#so it counts as quad

[ryuuulen]

Hey there!

If you are a fan of any of the following youtubers :

-Dawko

-8 BitGaming (8-BitRyan and BazIsNotReal)

-Razzbowski

-Will of DaGames

Then this fnf mod is perfect for you!

Friday Night Funkin’ Vs The Quad-Squad !

“Friday Night Funkin VS The Quad Squad is an upcoming mod for the rhythm game “Friday Night Funkin,” by Cameron “Ninjamuffin99” Taylor, David “PhantomArcade” Brown, Isaac “Kawai Sprite” Garcia and evilsk8r for Newgrounds. It is made using the Psyche Engine developed by ShadowMario, RiverOaken and bbpanzu. This mod is about the content creators 8-BitGaming (8-BitRyan and BazIsNotReal), DAGames, Dawko and Razzbowski. In this universe, Boyfriend.xml (BF) and Girlfriend.xml (GF) travel to various places via a specific device which only the Dearest family know how to use. After incorrectly using the device on his own, BF winds up in the office of a rather eccentric – and highly confused – individual. After this unknown man takes the device for himself, he makes a deal with BF that he will return the item if the rapper agrees to make a click-bait-worthy video first. This mod contains six new songs personalised for each character with three charts each; multiple sprite sheets for all of the YouTubers; custom backgrounds for multiple familiar and unfamiliar locations; new mechanics during the songs; and a brand new overarching story. You don’t have to know any or all members of the Quad Squad to enjoy this mod, but if you do happen to be a fan (or you happen to be the actual content creators featured in this mod) then look out for some references!”

TL;DR: Boyfriend gets a teleportation device, he goes to Britain on accident, chaos ensues.

The OST for the mods demo is up, and i highly suggest checking it out.

other reasons you should check it out-

-Banger music

-Kewl art

-Dawktrap content

-Darko content

-other kewl things

[yunamaocaro]

favorite ice dance programs based on vibes:

🇯🇵 kana muramoto/daisuke takahashi ♡ la bayadère at the 2021 japanese nationals in saitama, japan

[etherylelixyr]

X has stopped replying to my texts. Did I do something wrong..? I must have. Why can't I be perfect like them.

[whatudottu]

Bare with me, I've got an idea that combines TFP Shockwave's invention of the cortical psychic patch, what motivation a Shattered Glass Shockwave might have made it, plus more broad cybertronian biology headcanons and how it lead to the invention of the cortical psychic patch in the first place-

Um... let's go!

To start, let's go in reverse order by talking cybertronian biology, or more specifically the more wire based functions of a more literal less sex version of interface panels. Because cybertronians are biomechanical aliens who's only method of 'reproduction' canonically (in most series) is through being birthed by the planet itself - on hold while Primus and Cybertron are dead - when I say 'interface panels' I mean panels housing plugs and ports that are typically there for medical stuff and otherwise data transfers or for use in hardware depending on the individual. The number of panels is relatively consistent and the number of in/out connections depends on the size of the bot (more for larger frames, less for smaller) and are kinda paired to whatever systems they are nearest location wise; two on either side of the hips or one each at the top of the legs, two on either side of the chest or one each at the top of the arms.

Depending on the location you can read the diagnostics of that part of the frame in more detail than if you tried investigating the same part in an entirely different panel; you're gonna get a more accurate read on damages to the left arm in the left arm panels then you are on the right leg. And for particular frames, the interface panels are used to control objects using the relevant limb or part - like a robotic arm to lift things heavier than your frame can handle - and probably even to have your frame be used AS a limb; combiner limbs would connect to whoever's the main body and interface with the relevant limb panel.

But there are panels that are explicitly medical use only, that being internal panels adjunct to the sparkchamber as well as another for specific monitoring of a cybertronian's organs, and paneling at the back of the helm or where it meets the neck for the processor and all the delicate software it holds. Bots with medical programing like Ratchet can interface with those panels directly in the event of a lack of resources (AKA the entirety of Transformers: Prime), and in fact the panel along the sparkchamber would be the easiest way to get a general systems check on a patient. Mecha like Knock Out who may or may not have actual history with being a medical doctor probably would have a harder time directly interfacing with the more delicate sparkchamber, organ, and processor panels, but he and Ratchet (and other bots with even the vaguest sense of medical training) can set up a line running to a monitor or sparkreader or any other medical hardware to fully take in a data analysis, even if it means more resources are used or that vulnerabilities could be introduced.

To the processor panel, much like brain surgery you kinda need a signal in the first place in order to get a read on it's damages, hardware or software. A spark read can let you know if the body is alive and all the damages that IT can diagnose for a general check, but operating on an offline or barely awake processor can lead to issues that you may not even be aware of at the time of procedure. It's why a direct connection (with appropriate medical coding) is better for processor diagnosis as the hardware bypass might have a signal delay between patient and doctor.

And here's where the cortical psychic patch comes in.

When Megan was otherwise comatose, the cortical psychic patch was able to allow access into his processor that had been percolating with activity (one described by Knock Out to be like 'a dream he may never wake from'), and though far from being an actual medical use of the patch it did allow for a non-medical bot to access the processor of a very much comatose patient. It was even Ratchet himself - resident medic of the Autobots - that knew how to create the patch even if it was banned for Autobot use.

Keeping in this reverse order, perhaps a SG Shockwave had invented the cortical psychic patch for an intended medical use, a tool meant for mecha who may not have been forged nor coded to BE medics but have enough training to be such (typically self-taught in the early stages of revolution, then mentored by forged medics when the war really picked up speed) in order to allow direct access to the processor interface panel. The design of it would be - rather than a plug that just magnetically sticks on to the back of a cybertronian's head - would be a series of plugs and ports of mostly universal design, adjustable to a degree for multiple frames, allowing the medic irrespective of coding to have full access to diagnose what the fuck is up with the processor.

Unfortuneately for SG Shockers (and fully intentional by TFP Shockwave) the patch isn't quite as synonymous as the medic's coding is to processor interfacing, being rather invasive of a connection even as it is, let alone the patch being more of a hardware connection which in of itself introduces vulnerabilities. Heck, it's not even safe for the operator themselves to use the patch, seeing as how Bumblebee got a head full of Megan; I mean, Bumblebee isn't a trained medic, but the fact that it happened at all is evidence to it's flaws. And that's to a patient who isn't of mind enough to struggle, Shockwave himself says that resisting the patch may cause damage to the patient/subject, combine that with the second option of 'let it happen and let them walk unabated in your head' and you're pretty much shit out of luck.

The base Shockwave would most certainly be fully aware of the intent, a direct hardline to an individual's processor is most definitely a connection to some very vulnerable software and thus information, the cortical psychic patch probably battling a lot of firewalls off with the ease of a medical interface. And in the base TFP universe, Autobots with only recent war-based medical training as opposed to previous education probably early on DID resort to using the patch as a crutch, Ratchet after all knew how to make one. It's probably a combination of Shockwave's brutal interrogation method USING the cortical psychic patch and the relatively inexperienced Autobot medics opting to use direct processor interface rather than the comparably safer hardware bypass that lead to it's banned status in the Autobot ranks, too many 'Bots were having trauma responses at the hands of young medic's servo's who didn't know any better and actively resisting the patch, which just so happened to lead to more Autobot casualties and thus probably shellshocking the medics in training to get them to fear the daunting prospect of actually losing a patient by THEIR OWN hands.

It's one thing to be using a tool made by someone who has been known to do lots of dubious shit, it's another to see a tool that you made to help be manipulated into an interrogation technique, made all the worse now that you have significantly more emotional capacity to not only feel guilty but feel solely responsible for the patch induced trauma of your own allies; the cortical psychic patch was banned by the Shattered Glass Decepticons for about similar reasons, but it's near worse for a lot of medics (even the experienced ones) had been relying on it solely for the fact that they weren't forged with the coding. The stagnated use of the cortical psychic patch in the base verse was mostly because Shockwave himself had been the inventor of it and main user of the patch, the Autobots avoiding it's use for the ban and the Decepticons not very experienced with the tool. In Shattered Glass however, the only real limit to it's perpetuity would be if the Autobots managed to learn how to create the patch at all, which if even in the base verse Ratchet knew how to make one, probably means that there's more than enough patch use in SG even if Shockwave gets caught in a spacebridge explosion or not.

And that's that I think- funny to talk about interface panels in a transformers post without doing it in a sex way haha- I just want these guys to be alien 😫

[trollbreak]

On about peipre this bedtime, yall

[thawthebeez]

a friend recommended i watch an anime called Skate-Leading Stars and in the first episode they've established a childhood rivalry with an absolute dick of an antagonist, gave us an orphaned protagonist who is the embodiment of the phrase "monkey see, monkey do,", snuck in some casual stalking and kidnapping amongst other illegal activities, created an entirely new sub-section of figure skating that is a combination of pairs, singles, and synchro, AND made the protag pull off a quad flip after YEARS of not skating without dying instantly. dear lord.

[mushroom-for-art]

Since I know I probably won't be able to art it here's a little thing of like age swapped Vismay and his siblings featuring @phlurrii Meau being just love her absolute baby sibling. Takes place before like their story so everything is fine nothing bad ever happened /yet/ (minus giratina getting yoited and Palkia Dialga having a huge spat)

Cuddles throughout the eons

His father had finally made more creations after being silent for much time. Vismays creation had been accidental causing the great powerful pokemon to reflect inside itself. He had been lonely but respected his father's isolation, learning the stars hearing them whisper their names.

His father had approached him, gently placing the tiny creatures onto a floating space cloud. They were so tiny..

Nervously he leaned in to look closer, they were in colors he had not seen before, not on anything living. He learnt of their reasons for being. A ruler of time, of space and of gravity and finally his gaze softened to the one that looked almost like him, their role to help foster the world that will one day exist. For now they were too young.

Though his father was caring and loving Arceus was just as new to living as any of them. Disappearing for who knows how long at a time to perfect their craft. Leaving him to watch over his siblings.

The twins, time and space were the oldest and would argue constantly he would watch them emptily swipe and bat at each other with hisses and screeches howls and growls, despite both being blind and tiny. The weird long bodied one was much more subdued but significantly more mobile having mastered quickly the art of wiggling and rolling. It was only the fluffy feline one that seemed to behave.

He spent all his time with them, they would crawl to him and against him trying to bury themselves into his fur as they dozed, time and space still kicking at each other for the best spot. He enjoyed the times asleep on his back feeling the little weight of their bodies on his stomach.

When they started to open their eyes to move more and communicate more they started growing quickly. He watched the more odd shaped ones butt heads from a safe viewing distance ready to step in if anyone got hurt. Giratina slapped his tail at Dialga who in turn tried to pin Palkia who was headbutting Giratina watching them roll around in circles essentially each hitting the other while getting hit themselves.

His pink sister, smaller than her brothers still would come over as he observed.

"Boys being too rough for you?" He would ask as the mew shoved her head under his chin where he lay lying over his paws as she curled up as he gently lay his chin back down on her lightly squishing her but by her giggling she didn't mind. He purred softly still watching the rambunctious lot watching them gradually exhaust themselves.

Giratina floated over first, wiggling and worming himself under his laid out tails before coming around using the tails as blankets to flop over his lower back near his legs. He was bigger than when he was first born but still small enough to use his big brother as a bed. Next came the twins shoving pushing arguing, Dialga flopped down with all his little weight against his side planting his head on the eldest upper shoulders while Palkia complaining stormed round to the other side flopping face first down his chin in the fluff of Vismays back who did grunt at the collision. They were small still but heavy.

As they continued to grow they continued to argue over where they each landed, Vismay had grown a bit with them but he wasn't going to get any bigger now. Although he tried not to play favorite Meau always got first dibs, though she was too big to fit under his chin now she wasn't too big to shove herself into her brothers side where he would wrap a paw or two over her, she was about half his size now but the boys were much bigger.

Dialga and Palkia would squabble over who got where usually always arguing over who gets the stomach or his back depending on how he was lying, this time Palkia won lounging over his back to an almost painful degree for his weight that even Meau faintly hissed and swatted his snout to back up. Giratina snuck his head down on his leg as a pillow after the two brothers snarled at each other for 'getting in each others space.' Dialga relented to lying down in front of him head shoved over his chin as his tail thumped much like when he would have a tantrum as a baby. He could only softly sigh. He loved them, but they were getting too big for this.

The last time they all were together Vismay had been asleep on his back, unaware that his exposed stomach was irresistibly enticing to the dragons who forgot their size and Meau who he often let get away with using him as a bed or pillow despite now towering over him.

The boys snapped and argued as they shoved each other until they managed to work out an arrangement that worked each shoving their head wherever they could fit unaware of their size and weight while Meau waited tactfully and squeezed her way into a gap tail wiggling as she snuck her way to resting her chin on soft fluff batting Dialga softly to move his fat head to get extra comfortable.

Vismay wheezed under the dragon pile, not injured, just very squished, and although they cooed and made varying purrs of contentment he did unfortunately have to let them know they were now a bit too large to sleep on him like they used to.

In honesty, he would've traded anything to get another day with them from before. He hadn't realized at the time how quickly they'd outgrow him, he would've cherished the time with them more. Especially as he saw them all eventually split, his sweet little Giratina banished to an opposite world and the twins in one last spat create their own realms to be away from each other. Meau had floated to his side in quiet mourning of the broken bonds. He had held his baby sister glad to have not lost all his siblings.

He joined her when the 'Earth' thing was created, he didn't quite understand it but he watched Meau partake in her duties.

Although he did not wish to leave her side for fear of her disappearing or being sent away like her brothers he was curious about this planet. She'd told him she would be fine and he had explored, seeing different creatures both great and small growing, thriving and dying, all parts of life. He was fascinated by the world created, the moving of the sun and breeze through his fur reminding him of the twins, he wondered if they could see this world in their realms? If they knew the powers they had helped create a balance? And what of Giratina too, he hoped he was okay.

During his travels him and Meau would exchange messages through their powerful psychic abilities but as of late he hadn't heard from her. As he lay on his side thinking in a dozing state he sensed a presence, it landed on his second shoulder. Tiny paws padded into him with curiosity and caution as he slowly opened an eye to peer at the little creature. Almost looks like Meau, but smaller, no crown as it stared back at him looking a bit startled. It's raised fluffed tail was all one color and it seemed to lack a stomach pattern as he slowly closed his eye again. Despite all that he could sense Meaus' energy from them and as he felt them settle and pad his shoulder before sinking into his thick fur. He felt her gently headbutt into him and lifted his upper paw carefully as the tinier Meau made a faint mewing, Meau cuddled herself into him making herself the small spoon as the tiny meau moved sliding down his shoulder and falling face first into Meaus fur before wiggling shuffling and settling cuddled between the both of them as they all quietly purred.

"Yours?" he asked lazily aloud.

"Yes, I wanted you to meet my child Mew." She responded content in a long missed cuddle with her brother as her kitten began to chew on strands of Vismay long fur.

She was right though her kitten was incredibly Mew, it was a great name as he held them properly after their impromptu siesta. They were incredibly cute. He could only smile, despite looking less like herself she seemed very happy and her kitten was perfect and he couldn't be happier for her. They chirped and chatted to each other as Meau fetched berries explaining she'd traveled so Vismay could meet them to which he was most grateful. He'd missed his baby sister and told her though he would've flown day in and day out to visit had he known and if she need please contact him. He would be more than happy to help her after all.

She'd smiled and bumped her shoulder into him playfully in unspoken gratitude of the offer, though he got the impression she likely would not contact him but the world was gentle, she likely would not need his help.

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

Big, Strong Man

PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

WARNINGS: GYM FLUFF, swearing

WORD COUNT: 528

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

“Bucky, that’s insane I can’t fucking do that,” you chastise your boyfriend as you point at the weights he’s putting onto the leg press. “James, that’s almost 200 pounds,” you whine and grab his elbow, trying to stop him from adding more weights.

Two months ago, you told your man that you wanted to go with him to the gym. He asked you why, because he already loves you the way you were. You smiled at his statement and assured him that you were not feeling insecure, but was looking for something to do as a couple.

And you were not a newbie to the gym; however, you weren’t as frequent as your 6’2 man.

“Doll, s’fine. I believe in you,” he rubs your exposed arms, as he sneakily glances at the cleavage your sports bra exhibits. You flick his cap and snap at him, “eyes up here, Barnes.” He chuckles at your smirk and gestures you to sit at the machine.

You knew that going to the gym with Bucky was going to be fun, but what you didn’t except was that the man was going to be pushing you to your limits and making you break PR’s all the time.

You sit at the machine and follow Bucky’s instructions on how to place your feet. “Ok so shoulder-width wide and point your toes out. You feelin’ okay, babe?” He wipes some sweat off your forehead with his thumb, before combing some of your loose hairs back.

“Fine,” you reply with a smile, “how many reps?” Bucky looks at the machine then back at you, “since we’re going heavy this time, I’d say seven. But, if you can’t then stop darlin’. I don’t want you injured.”

You smile and adjust your headphones to cover your ears. Giving a thumbs up to your boyfriend, who stands in your line of view, music starts blasting into your ears and you start pushing with your quads.

At the end of the set, you don’t even know how many times you pushed, your puffing and groaning when you set the machine to the start position.

You drop your legs, and they start quaking. The music pauses and Bucky signals to remove one of the covered ears. When you do, Bucky’s slapping your shoulders and cheering, “babe, that was fifteen. You did fifteen reps!”

You’re in shock, “what!” Bucky nods, he tells you how he was counting, and didn’t want to stop when you passed seven. You slap Bucky’s arm playfully before giving him a glare, “fuckin hell, Buck. What if it dropped, I could’ve been crushed!”

Bucky shakes his head, “no you wouldn’t.” He gives you one of his cheeky smiles, that he only reserves for you.

You narrow your eyes playfully at him and dip your hip before crossing your arms, “yeah? Why?”

Bucky copies your stance and walks to you until you are toe to toe, he wraps his metal arm around your waist and pulls you close. He nudges his nose to yours, and you place your palms on his clothed, insanely sweaty and muscular, chest.

“Cuz you got a big, strong man to save you, doll,” he pecks your lips.

🎀🎀🎀

Whoops, looks like I dropped something (this fic). 🤭🤭🤭

This is dedicated to the lovely gentleman who helped with the leg press machine today at the gym, what can I say. I'm just a girl 🎀

Lemme know what you lovelies think!!!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[delusionalwriterr]

Gym Buddy

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You have a hard time keeping your eyes off of your gym crush.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: none

A/N: Shoutout to my gym girlies out there, this one's for you 🫵🏻

Masterlist

———

“What are we hitting today?” your friend asks you as you both enter the gym. You look over to the receptionist and greet him with a smile. Adjusting the gym bag on your shoulder, you turn to your friend and shrug. 

“I was thinking legs?” you suggest as the two of you head to the locker area. You usually go to the gym alone, but today was thankfully one of the rare occasions your schedule aligned with your friend’s so you took this opportunity to invite her to the gym with you— something you used to do back when you were still in college. 

Your friend nods in response before beginning to stuff her locker with the stuff she didn’t need, you mirroring her actions. “Quads, hams, glutes, or all of the above?” she chuckles, pulling out her shaker bottle and scooping in some pre-workout. 

“I did quads last time, are you cool with hams and glutes?” you ask to which she nods again. “But you can do quads if you want.” 

This time she shakes her head, “Nah, you know me. I can never say no to a good glute workout.” She turns to her side and nudges your hip with hers, drawing a chuckle from you. 

You walk towards the workout area, your eyes scanning the room and immediately stopping by the benches. You feel your heart hammer in your chest as you watch him do bench presses— his chest puffing out and leaving no room for imagination thanks to the compression shirt he was wearing. 

Bucky Barnes started going to your gym a few months ago, and to say you were shocked to see him there the first time was an understatement. Not that you were complaining though, but you practically fell off the treadmill you were using when you saw him walk in for the first time donning an oversized shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and a baseball cap. 

Safe to say that he is definitely your gym crush, and you would be lying when you say that you look forward to going to the gym just to see if he was there. 

Your gaze stayed on him as your friend led you to the Smith machine. You glance at his face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and mouth letting out huffs of breath as he raises the 100kg dumbells above him. 

Goddamn. 

Your attention is brought back to your friend as she begins loading the bar with a few weights to start your first exercise. You snap out of your daze and help her by loading up the other side before finally beginning. 

Taking turns, the two of you did a few sets of back squats, but your mind was definitely elsewhere. You desperately tried not to look at Bucky for too long, afraid that your friend might notice or worse, you get caught by Bucky staring at him. 

“Okay, what’s up? I feel like you left your brain back at home,” your friend joked as you took a break before starting your next exercise. You roll your eyes, taking a swig from your water bottle, ignoring her question. 

Your eyes subconsciously trail to Bucky, once again. This time, he was hunching over the bench as he stared at his phone, chest rising and falling at a steady pace. Your friend follows your gaze and hums in realization. 

“Ah, I see,” she pipes up with a smirk on her face, “you got hots for the Avenger.” 

You laugh softly, turning back to her and shrugging your shoulders. “Guilty as charged.” 

“Why don’t you go for it?” she pesters, causing you to rapidly shake your head. “No way, I’m scared he might just glare at me or something.” 

She scoffs before beginning to look for other plates to load the smith machine. She looks around your area only to find none that would suffice for your next exercise. So she scans the gym in search of heavier plates only to find a stack of 25’s that were conveniently placed beside Bucky. 

She smirks before trudging her way towards him despite your attempts to pull her back. “Come back here!” you whisper sharply, but ultimately give up once she reaches him. 

You see her gently tap Bucky on the shoulder, prompting the super soldier to turn and face her. You feel your whole body tense and your face starts to heat up. You watch as your friend points to the stack of plates beside Bucky and you see him nod and begin to stand up. 

Oh god, is he coming over here? You thought to yourself. Sure enough, you see your friend and Bucky each pick up a plate and head towards your direction. Your eyes briefly meet his, causing you to turn away and act busy by scrolling through your phone. 

You feel your heartbeat quicken as you see them grow closer through your peripheral until they are standing right in front of the machine. “Thank you so much!” your friend smiles as they both load the weights onto the bar. “I would’ve asked my friend to help me out, but the pre-workout hasn’t kicked in for her, you know?” she jokes, earning a soft chuckle from Bucky and a glare from you. 

“It’s no problem,” Bucky says, gaze shifting between the two of you, a shy smile on his lips. “Have a nice workout,” he adds, before heading back over to the benches. 

Your friend turns to you, a wicked smile on her lips. “See? He won’t bite,” she chides, causing you to roll your eyes before heading to the machine to start RDLs. “Unless you’re into that sort of stuff,” she continues, earning a smack on the shoulder from you. 

“I’m never working out with you again.” 

—

The next few days were not as uneventful as you’d hoped. You thought by going to the gym alone like you usually do would mean that you’d have more time to just subtly watch Bucky from across the room without worrying about any friends that would force you to interact with him. 

But just a few days after your initial interaction with Bucky, you were put in a situation where you had the chance to look at him up close once again. 

You were doing tricep pushdowns on the cable machine when you felt a hand tap you on the shoulder, causing you to jump. You turn around to meet the pair of blue eyes you so desperately gazed at all the time. 

You were frozen in your spot as you took in how attractive he looked in his compression shirt, arms bulging by the sleeves. You were snapped out of your daze when you realized he was talking to you. “I’m sorry, what?” you asked sheepishly, removing one of your earphones. 

Bucky smiled shyly in return. “Are you using the other cable?” he asked, pointing at the machine next to you. You shook your head, heat rushing to your face upon the thought of him working out beside you. “No, go ahead.” 

He smiled again before positioning himself beside you and starting his workout. You tried your best not to get distracted by the godly sight next to you, but you didn’t muster enough courage to talk to him after that. 

The next time you talk was the week after that. You were doing a particularly heavy set of dumbbell shoulder presses (while keeping note of Bucky somewhere behind you doing bicep curls). It was already your third set, and you were aiming to push out 12 reps until you started to feel your weaker arm give out. 

You braced your core harder as you pushed yourself to get the last rep in until you saw Bucky drop the dumbbells he was holding to rush behind you. “I got you,” he mumbled, lightly placing his hands just below your triceps to give you stability. 

You tried to ignore your heart that was hammering in your chest as you were finally able to fully lift the dumbbells over your head. You moved to lower them to put them down, but Bucky suddenly wrapped his hands on your wrists. “All you, give me one more.”

Jesus Christ. 

You pushed yourself one more time, ignoring the pain in your shoulders as you gave it your all. Once you finally put the dumbbells down, you turned to him. “Thanks,” you smiled, which Bucky returned. 

“No problem,” he replied, but before you could say anything else, he was already walking back to his spot to continue his set. You were extra energized to workout that day. 

Which brings you to a week after that. You were just stepping out of your car when you spot Bucky getting off his bike. You subtly watch as he took his helmet off, and revel in the way he tied his hair into a small bun by the nape of his neck. 

God, you were down bad. 

You were too busy trying not to drool and fail to notice that he was actually staring back at you. It wasn’t until he gave you a shy nod when you snap back to reality and return the gesture but throwing him a sheepish wave. 

“What are you training today?” he calls out as he watches you take your gym bag from the trunk of your car and slung it on your shoulder. “Oh, I’m doing pull today. What about you?” you ask, silently hoping he was planning to do the same. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asks which practically made your heart do backflips. Trying to hide your giddiness, you give him a short nod as you and him begin to make your way inside the gym. 

You enter and greet a few familiar faces as Bucky follows suit before stopping in front of the lat pulldown machine. “Are you okay with starting with this?” you ask. 

“What, no warm up?” Bucky asks in return, prompting your cheeks to heat up. “I don’t warm up,” you start, “And before you lecture me, I know it’s bad… I’m just too lazy to do it.”

He chuckles softly at this as he begins to take off the sweatshirt he was wearing to reveal that he was wearing a muscle tee underneath, leaving almost no room for imagination. “S’okay. I’m too lazy to warm up sometimes too.” 

You laugh as you take a seat in front of the machine, pick a favorable weight, and begin your set. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, the thought of Bucky Barnes standing just beside you to watch you do your set was both nerve wracking and motivating at the same time. Sure, you wanted to impress him with the amount of reps you could push out, but the way he was staring at you was also making your knees grow weak. 

Thankfully, you finish your first set with minimal struggle before standing up and gesturing for him to go next. “That seemed a little too easy for you,” Bucky began, “I know you can lift heavier than that, doll.” 

You try to ignore the way your stomach flipped upon hearing the pet name and reply with a playful scoff instead. You take a swig from your bottle as he starts his set. While lifting the whole stack, you admire the way his back muscles expand and contract without focusing too much on the soft grunts that were leaving his mouth. 

Did it suddenly get too hot in here? 

After a few more workouts and taking turns checking each other out, you both decide to end the day with a set of hammer curls. You watch in awe as he begins to work with a pair of 80kg dumbbells, making your weight look puny. 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” you huffed as you continue your set. You see him slightly turn his head towards you in acknowledgment. “Given that you literally have a serum that makes you… you know, strong enough to lift a truck—“ he laughs at that, “why do you still work out?” 

He ends his set and places his dumbbells back on the rack. “Well it sort of feels like therapy for me. When I go to the gym, it’s like— are you done with these?” he stops, pointing at the dumbbells you placed down while he was talking. You nod and before you could protest, he picks up the pair with one hand and places them back on the rack for you. “Anyway, when I go to the gym, I can forget about everything, you know? It feels nice to leave the rest of the world behind and pretend like everything is normal in my life,” he finishes. 

Bucky lifts his metal arm in front of him. “This doesn’t really help with that though,” he adds, letting out a sad laugh. Your heart clenches at his sentiment, but before you know it, you blurt out, “Do you wanna get coffee after this?”

You widen your eyes at your sudden forwardness. A few weeks ago, you could barely approach him to ask help in re-racking weights, but you also never really imagined you would one day do pull with him, too. So this was sort of like a seize the day kind of thing. 

Bucky, too, was caught off guard with your invitation. He never really talked to anyone when he went to the gym, preferring to just keep to himself, but there was something about you that pulled him closer. Maybe it was how friendly you were with everyone in the gym or how he saw you continuously push yourself to your limit in every exercise you do, but he was always intrigued by you. 

His therapist told him to step out of his comfort zone more, so with a smile, he replies, “Only if you let me be your gym buddy from now on.” 

Your smile reaches your ears as you offer him your hand, which he gladly took, “Deal.” 

———

A/N: This really gives off crack energy, but hope you liked it either way ◡̈

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ big gym energy (is this my fantasy?) | fushiguro toji

wc: 2.0k

summary: who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday?

contains: gn!reader, non-curse au, college au, appearance of itafushikugi (mostly nobara), reader has a huge and lowkey delusional crush on toji, age gap

a/n: the gym toji fic! tone in this is a bit different from what i write, and it's lowkey a crack fic but i hope it's still enjoyable! listened to: big energy - latto & area codes - kaliii

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: going to the gym for yourself (and totally not for that cute guy who sometimes says hi)

“You’re going to the gym?” Nobara halts smack in the middle of the busy hallway. Groans huff behind her, the rest of your class filing out of the lecture hall. You bow your head apologetically as you pull her to the side. 

“Yes.” 

She squints, skeptical, “You.” 

You nod.

“The gym.” she says it slower this time, tilting her head down. 

You nod again. 

Nobara blinks, shifting her weight as she reaches one hand inside the pocket of her overalls. There’s a long pause, rushed footsteps amplifying the suspense, then—

“Okay, what’s the bet? How much did Maki put out? I want in.” 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you loop your arm around hers and continue walking. 

There’s good reason for her to doubt you; she knows you best after all. In your little quad, you are the least likely to be found doing any physical activity or sport whatsoever—and that’s saying a lot, considering the other fourth of your group is Megumi. But at least he walks his dogs regularly. 

“Rude,” you scoff jokingly, “there’s no bet, just testing it out because they have a free trial promo.”

It shouldn’t hurt to check it out, you think. One of your resolutions this year is to finally get started on your fitness journey, whatever form it may be. 

“You should come.” 

Nobara snorts, “Wrong person,” you both turn at a corner, “ask Itadori.”

The gym is just a few blocks away from your campus, a good 18-minute walk if you’re counting—which is also part of what makes it so appealing. The ad you’d seen for the free trial is an early bird promo to attract new customers for the gym’s new branch launch. 

And it does make the most sense to ask him; he is the sports science major after all—

“No way,” you step out on the sidewalk, “telling him is practically committing to a membership.” 

—but Yuuji is a bit too eager when it comes to things like this. No doubt he’ll be at your heel, wagging his figurative golden retriever tail at the prospect of being your certified gym buddy. It’s endearing and you know he means well, but that’s way too much pressure for someone who’s just starting out. 

She laughs, readjusting her bag, “He’d know how to use the machines though.” 

“I watched some videos…” you mumble, because Nobara has a point, but if you’re being honest, you feel just a teensy bit embarrassed at the idea of anyone else knowing about your attempts at fitness this early on, lest it fail in the end. “I can probably ask someone there…” 

“Try the most jacked up person in the gym.” 

You shove her jokingly, her laughter echoing down the road. 

. 

The first person you meet at the gym is the lady at the front desk. Her ponytail sways as she greets you, a chirpy smile welcoming you in as she holds an iPad to her chest while touring you around—at the center, the main floor plan is decked out with machines; towards the back sit the squat racks, and to your sides are the private cycling rooms and multifunctional spaces. According to her, they also offer yoga classes every 6:00 p.m. on Wednesdays. 

You’d expected a lot more people to be in here at 7:00 p.m., but you suppose it makes sense others would prefer to spend their Friday nights elsewhere. 

Looking around, you spot a middle-aged lady you swear is Megumi’s English professor; on the treadmills, a couple your age share a laugh as they try to match pace. There are some machines you’ve never even seen in your life, Youtube videos included.

You take a deep breath. You can ask for help. 

After all, the crowd feels friendly enough, not too intimidating—

—until your eyes land on him, on the benches; an absolute tank of a man doing chest presses with what you think are probably the heaviest dumbbells on the rack. 

You try not to stare, catching only a glimpse of the way his biceps flex against the tight sleeves of his black compression shirt. 

Don’t be a creep, you tell yourself, walking towards the leg press machine. You may be new here, but you’ve learned that gym etiquette isn’t so far off from acting like a civilized human being. 

Thank god you never take Nobara seriously, because you can’t even imagine the stuttering mess you’d be if you had to ask him how to work any of these god forsaken machines. 

.

It’s a good thing, then, that help comes to you without you having to say a word. 

This is number four out of five sessions in your free trial promo, and you have no idea how to get the goddamn plates out of the barbell. You pull some out from the other side and the whole barbell comes along with it. When you attempt the other side, it does the same. Then when you finally do manage to get off the plates on one side, the whole barbell drops, clanging loudly against the metal foot of the squat rack set-up. 

(Now that you think about it, maybe it isn’t such a good thing that you’ve been offered help instead of you asking. There must be a reason someone thinks you could need it.)

Someone, who is also the last person you could ever possibly want to embarrass yourself in front of.

Someone, who just so happens to be the jacked up tank of a man you’ve admittedly glanced at a few times in your past few visits here. 

“To make it easier,” he crouches beside you, laying down a smaller plate and rolling the larger ones on the barbell over it. 

He unloads them like they weigh nothing—and with his physique, it isn’t hard to believe that they probably do. His biceps look to be the size of your head, chest popping out in ways you’ve only seen on those Tiktok thirst edits; his one hand is larger than a 2.5 kilogram plate, and his forearms look like they could ch—

Mind out of the gutter, you blink away, focusing instead on the metal bar in front of you. 

God, you don’t even know this man’s name. 

“T-thanks.” you stutter, embarrassed. 

He gives you a half-smile, lips turned on one side, “Sure.” then he walks away, the tightness of his black compression shirt hugging the ridges of his back muscles. 

You gulp. 

So begins your year-long gym membership.

(And maybe, just maybe, the kind-of-meet-cute of a lifetime. Who knows, really?) 

.

“Who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday,” she snorts, fingers grazing over the curved edges of the heart-shaped watermelons in the fruit aisle.

You hush her, scanning the area around you for anyone who might have overhead. 

It’s 11:00 p.m. on a Thursday, so you doubt it, but you can never be too sure.

“He’s nice, you know.” you pout. 

“Yeah, what’s his name?” Nobara gives you a look. 

You glare, touché. 

Maybe you don’t know his name. Yet. 

But he’s always offered to stack on the heavy plates for you, and will oftentimes help in unloading them too. There are times when you aren’t quite sure how to work the machines and he swoops in like the gym buff version of prince charming, teaching you proper form just so you don’t get injured. He’ll wipe down a mat for you to use some days, because—

“Stretching is important,” he never fails to mention.

He’s nice. 

And you have an insanely delusional crush on him, but you don’t care, because why else would he be giving you this much attention if he wasn’t interested in you too? 

.

You find out many things about your gym crush, most of them completely unexpected. 

One: his hair is unusually soft for someone who looks so rough. Or, well, you think it looks soft, you can’t tell for sure; you haven’t actually touched it to be able to tell. The black mop on his head falls flat over his eyes on the few days you assume are right before his next scheduled haircut. It surprises you even more when he walks in the gym with a small hair tie holding his bangs up. 

Two: he does a considerable amount of bodyweight exercises for someone his size—Calisthenics, specifically. 

You watch him pull himself up the bar, biceps and back straining against the movement. The muscles ripple across the fabric of his tee, and it’s impressive how smoothly he’s able to go up and down; as if he isn’t exerting any effort at all. Then, the push-ups and dips. He can do them all, in every variation you never even thought existed, and it’s always done with so much ease. 

It gives you reason to believe that he could be gentle, controlled. In what? Well. You know. 

Three: he likes fruity things. You expected his go-to to be straight black, maybe a chocolate protein shake on other days too. But he shows up one day with a smoothie in the shade of vibrant magenta. Dragonfruit, you assume, from all the black specks floating in it. 

This also happens to be the first time you initiate the conversation with him.  

“Your smoothie looks good,” you mumble, a little hesitant. 

God, so awkward. 

He looks up from adjusting the plate stoppers on your bar. 

A hum rumbles from his throat before he flashes you the same half-smile he always does, “Strawberry, banana, and dragonfruit.” 

You don’t really know what to say after that other than, “Cool.” 

And you mentally facepalm yourself. 

. 

In your fourth month at the gym, you learn a few more unexpected things that change everything. 

You’ve just finished freshening up and you’re on the way out when you bump into— 

“Megumi?” 

He looks up from his phone, dark strands hitting the tips of his eyelashes as he pushes back one side of his headphones. He raises an eyebrow, confused and surprised.  

“You gym?” 

“What’re you doing here?” 

Pink dusts his cheeks as he ducks his head, motioning for you to go first. 

“Sorry,” you chuckle, adjusting the strap of your duffel bag, “I started going here a few months ago. You?” 

He looks a little surprised by it, probably more so at the fact that you’ve kept it a secret from him for so long, but he nods, “That’s good. You did mention wanting to work on your fitness more this year.” then, he shifts, adjusting his weight before hanging his headphones by his neck. 

“I’m waiting for my dad.” 

In the past few years you’ve known Megumi, he’s never mentioned his dad. You never bothered to ask because you suspected there was a good reason he never talked about him in the first place. 

And so comes number four, and maybe the last unexpected thing you find out about your gym crush— 

“Megumi!” 

You both turn around to the voice of none other than Nobara’s proclaimed rippest DILF in Japan; the most jacked up tank of a man who also happens to be the man you’ve crushed hard on for the past four months.  

Everything is snapping into place, information forming bridges you would rather not cross right now. 

He walks up to Megumi, duffel bag slung across his chest as he reaches for your friend.

Megumi looks like he wants to wither away, embarrassed at you seeing him tucked under his dad’s arm. But all your brain can really comprehend is that Megumi, your good friend, is currently squished between the bicep and chest you’ve been staring at since your first day at the gym.

You hold your breath, the realization creeping to the forefront of your mind. There had been signs that your gym crush was a dad; apart from being built like one, he’d offhandedly mention ‘son’ a few times. You didn’t think it would be—

“Oh, you two know each other?” your gym crush tilts his head, turning to you, “you didn’t tell me your friend signed up for this gym, Megumi.” 

“I didn’t know,” Megumi grumbles, and the look on his face can rival yours, for sure. Tough competition on ‘who looks like they want to die the most right now?’. 

But he can’t win. 

Because when Megumi begrudgingly introduces your gym crush to you as his dad, you’re pretty sure you’ve buried yourself twelve feet underground. 

(It doesn’t ease the embarrassment when you learn unexpected thing number five: he’s been a trainer at the gym this entire time.)

thank you notes: to @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for encouraging me all the way!! ily ari

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[toxicanonymity]

Joel fucking reader and she begs him to pull out but he comes inside her anyway (he has a secret breeding kink) 🥵🥵🥵

NSFW 18+ | master list

Month or two into the outbreak, you’ve run out of birth control, all the condoms have long been looted.  Sex is practically the only thing left worth living for and you refuse to give it up.  Even if you tried, Joel is too hot, you spend half the day fantasizing about him.

You find a soft grassy meadow and a creek to rest by.  Joel comes up behind you and starts kissing at your neck, reaches around to unbutton your shirt. 

Right away you remind him, “You’ve gotta pull out, babe.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he says into your neck as he plants his mouth and sucks, and your body opens up with a need to be filled.

“Promise me.” 

“Mmm-hmm,” he reaches into your shirt and feels your nipple harden against his palm. 

Unsure if he’s hearing a word you say, just to be safe you get on top this time.  You straddle him while he sits back on his knees and his hips move like the ocean as you ride him.  You roll your hips to his rhythm, your clit rubbing into his body just right, arms draped around his shoulders. 

You start to come and know he won’t be far behind you, so you bear down on his shoulders and the balls of your feet reach for the ground.  Before you can dismount him, he sits up on his knees and cradles your head with one hand, lays you down flat on the grass and yanks both your thighs into him.  

“Pull out, babe,” you remind him. He doesn’t respond, just pummels you through your climax. 

“Come on my tits,” you try as the waves of your climax keep coming. 

He grunts and winces, leans forward, puts you in a full-on mating press, keeps pounding into you.  

“Fuck, come in my mouth,” you beg, but then it’s too late. 

He erupts inside you.  You gasp and moan and give up.  You give in..  It feels too good milking him, his cock pulsing enormously, his hot seed filling you up.  It's happening. You might as well enjoy it. 

He stays inside you, pressing your quads into your abdomen.  

“Babe you know i love to feel you come.  But I’m telling you, one day our luck is gonna run out."

He's counting on it.

“No, you’re right.” he says, and finally pulls out, keeping an eye on your tight, wet hole, hoping not too much of him drips out.  

-

Thanks for the ask! <3

joel miller master list

[chimielie]

yeah, you might want me to drop dead (but i don't even care)

summary: Atsumu x F!Reader. atsumu would categorize your relationship like this: he thinks you're hot when you're angry. you would categorize your relationship with atsumu like this: he had woken up one day and decided to drive you out of your fucking mind insane. 

word count: 2k

cw: miya atsumu's degradation kink (it's still sfw he's just not subtle), suggestive at the end

a/n: another resurrected fic from the drafts. walk him like a dog, bitch, walk him like a dog

Miya Atsumu was a player known for his thirst for blood. Like his brother, who termed the all-consuming need to dominate their opponent hunger, he relished in complete fucking annihilation. He was hardly soft off the court, too: few of his peers could withstand his cutting humor, his teammates couldn’t understand how he hadn’t scared off his fan club, and he had crushed a few hearts beneath his heel in his time.

He’d met his match in the natural enemy of heartbreakers: his university’s resident maneater.

“Hey!” Atsumu calls your name, lengthening his stride to catch up to you. You grimace—he can barely see your side profile now, but oh, you’re slowing down so he can catch up. Unusually considerate.

Oh, no, there’s just a clog in the artery of the crowded hallway, halting your escape.

“Hi,” he sing-songs, stretching the word out several extra syllables. 

“Good morning, Atsumu,” you say tightly, drawing up your shoulders so your arm won’t brush his bicep in the limited space. “I was hoping you’d died, since you weren’t in lecture this morning. Better yet, maybe someone buried you alive last night and you hadn’t dug your way out yet.”

“You went with the option that doesn’t kill me! You care,” he says happily, and takes a moment to bask in it. “I was actually at a volleyball game, you should come to one sometime, I’m pretty good at it—”

“I’d rather walk in traffic, ‘Tsumu,” you shoot him a wide smile that makes his knees feel weak and wobbly and shove your way straight through the crowd of people, leaving only an uncaring ‘Scuse me! in your wake. 

A lot of people would categorize your relationship with Atsumu as complicated. Atsumu is not one of those people.

Atsumu would categorize your relationship like this: many moons ago, you and he had been in a few of the same classes and shared some mutual friends—mere acquaintances. He hadn’t known you very well. In fact, he’d thought you were cute, which he now knows you aren’t. A few minor catastrophes he wasn’t privy to later, you had come to verbal blows with some loser in the middle of the quad. You’d later found it rather embarrassing. Watching you eviscerate him, though, Atsumu had experienced a fear like never before. If he was bloodthirsty, you bathed in ichor. 

He would always remember the look on your face as you dealt the final blow and turned away, walking with a straight back right toward him.

Atsumu, who had never seen anything quite like the look of controlled rage on your face as you took that man apart. Who wasn’t sure why the sound of you doing your damnedest to instigate a fight made him shiver despite being all too warm inside. Who was looking up at you from his seat like a puppy, desperate to see you don your war paint again.

You walked past him, because of course you did. You weren’t pulled by the same magnetic force he was, focused on him like he was suddenly fixated on you. You were barely acquainted with him and obviously going to your friends for moral support and ice cream and whatever it was people did after one of them basically tarred and feathered someone in the town square. He was merely a bystander along the path you strode.

Of course, the very action of totally ignoring his existence cinched it: he was hooked.

You would categorize your relationship with Atsumu like this: he had woken up one day and decided to drive you out of your fucking mind insane. 

You’d tried to ignore him. He was persistent, though, and he just pushed and pushed and pushed until he crossed the line. It was exhausting.

Except that you kind of loved fighting with him.

You couldn’t help the adrenaline rush it gave you, the way he seemed to light a fire inside you no one else could and keep it burning hot. It was almost like a release to debate him, the way some people boxed or listened to heavy metal to destress. The feeling of victory never failed to put a sparkle in your eye and a cocky smirk on your lips; sometimes, you felt like he was stepping back and letting you win.

This continued in perfectly pleasant vicious and sometimes bloody antagonism for the course of forever until a few months ago, when Atsumu had begun the new and inimitable torture of flirting with you. It was horrible and it was weird and you had no idea what kind of mind game he was playing, but you certainly intended to find out. 

Atsumu, for his part, had recently realized that he likes it when you smile so much more than when you scowl. He likes it when you flutter your lashes instead of staring flatly into his soul, hoping to yank it out and set it aflame. He likes it when you say nice things to him, which has only happened once, but was very nearly a second sexual awakening and thus monumental.

He does not like it when other men flirt with you.

“Your pencil is broken,” Osamu notes, glancing down at his brother’s clenched fist. “You’ll get splinters.”

“What? Oh,” says Atsumu distractedly. “Yeah, I’ll do it later.”

Your laugh rings across the library, the warm glow of a fireplace instead of the burning fires of hell you share with Atsumu. His grip slackens, and his twin takes the opportunity to prise the pulverized writing utensil out of his hand. This kindness goes unnoticed as the guy, that’s how Atsumu’s thinking the word in his mind, low and mocking, guy, says something to you that makes him instinctively kick Osamu in the shin.

“Ow! Douchebag!”

“Sorry, reflex,” Atsumu apologizes.

“Do you want to go with me?” Asks the dickhead you’re talking to.

“To ice cream? Sure,” you reply, and you don’t even sound like you’re being sarcastic. What the fuck? There’s a long pause while the jagoff scuffs his shoe against the floor, a red flush coming over his face while you stare slightly past him with your trademark stare. But your lips are slightly turned up.

The expression haunts Atsumu on his walk back. Your smile was so pretty, sweet and soft. You never smile at him except mockingly. 

“At the risk of sounding like I care,” Suna says. “Are you okay?” 

“If I killed someone, would you help me get rid of the body?” Atsumu says, staring straight ahead.

“No,” Osamu says, “he’s finding out about human emotions and he’s coping very badly.”

Atsumu is ignoring you. As quickly as his interest (his desire to piss you off) had flared up, it had disappeared seemingly overnight, which was fine for you. It was great! You had booted the most annoying man in the world out of your life and replaced him with a perfectly nice guy. Your life was coming up roses.

Except it was driving you insane. You had your phone out, held an inch below your desk, leaving the perfectly nice guy (what was his name? You hadn’t saved it in your contacts and you weren’t sure why) on read as you stared across the room at the faux-blond.

He was chattering to another boy who looked bemused and patient; probably another volleyball player. You were half-convinced this was part two of his ploy to get under your skin; he was playing the unpredictable game.

As you try to bore a hole in his brain with your eyes, you see him glance back at you for a second, just a second, and that’s it. You slam your palms down on the desk, shooting up from your seat, trying not to make eye contact when a few other students turn and look at you because of the noise. He still won’t look directly at you as you make your way to his seat.

“I just remembered I have to leave,” says Atsumu’s friend—Aran, not that you care what his friends are called—picking up his bag. “I have to go be anywhere else right now.”

“What,” Atsumu whines as he books it away from the two of you. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Yeah,” you snap, folding your arms in front of your chest. You’re not sure why you’re so angry, just at the look of his melting chocolate eyes and hunched shoulders and pouty lips. Ugh. He’s the worst. “You’re avoiding me. Why.” The question sounds more like a sentence or maybe a threat.

“I’m not doing that,” he defends weakly. “Maybe I just got tired of looking at your face.”

“My face is fucking precious, okay,” you argue, “you should want to look at it all the time. Idiot. What’s wrong with you?”

“I do—I mean, what? What’s wrong with you?” He returns, and there’s the familiar snap and sting that you like so much. “You don’t even like it when I talk to you—”

“I don’t!”

“So why are you mad now that I’m not?”

“Because—” You struggle for reasoning. You can’t find it. Something strange and huge is crawling its way up your throat.

“Because, uh, um,” he mocks you, and you almost sock him. “Make up your mind! I was trying to be nice to you, even though it’s fucking boring!”

“I don’t want you to be nice to me!” You shout, and then curl over, your face nearly in his lap as almost everyone else in the room turns to look at you. One of the library workers shushes you loudly. “It’s—you’re right, it is boring. Everything else is fucking boring. I like it when you bother me, ‘Tsumu, okay?”

“Okay,” Atsumu says, eyes widening, leaning away from you as you seem nearly on the verge of manic combustion in front of you. “Then—I’ll keep doing it?”

“Will you?” You sit up straight and look him squarely in the eye. He gulps, unsure what he’s being asked. Something is fluttering in his stomach, but he’s hesitant to trust it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, and it feels like so much more than a confession.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you say, in the same deceptively soft tone. “Can I kiss you?”

“Not if I kiss you—” You grab his face before he can finish talking and smash your lips onto his, first hard and like you’re trying to bully your way into his mouth, then a little sweeter, a little more tender. “First?”

“I win,” you say smugly as he tries to remember how to breathe.

“Please leave,” says the librarian. 

You live alone, which is amazing, because if Atsumu were to see his brother or teammates right now he might commit felony battery. In your apartment, which is full of trinkets Atsumu wants to examine but can’t because he’s very busy staring at you, you shove him onto the couch and sit on him. Sort of like you’re wrestling, but not at all.

“If we’re goin’ out,” he says, “we are going out, right?”

“Yes, ‘Tsumu,” you say, and your smile is as bright as the stars. He clears his throat and prays his voice doesn’t crack.

“Good. Uh, if we’re goin’ out, does that mean you have to start bein’ nice to me?” 

“I’ll be nicer to you,” you promise.

“Oh.” His tone is almost disappointed. 

“Or,” you lean down, and he almost chokes on his own inhale. “I can date you and be mean to you at the same time,” you say into his reddening ear, your breath hot and your smiling lips barely, just barely brushing his skin. Atsumu makes a squeaking noise that can barely be understood. “What was that?”

“Yes, please,” he says fervently.

You bite his earlobe teasingly, and he finds that really nice, actually. The nicest.

[incorrectbatfam]

On the subject of Damian and the axolotl, I feel like people do send him pictures of animals and stuff and he gives a rating, idk tho

Stranger: I thought you'd like to know that Lacey had her puppies. *sends a pic*

Damian: For once, a mother who should be proud. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: *sends a derpy cat pic* This is my cat Momo, short for Movie-Theater Mozzarella-Sticks. He just turned 3 and likes to eat pillow feathers.

Damian: Truly the cat of all time. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: I think I saw Krypto the Superdog on my way to work. *sends blurry video of Krypto flying*

Damian: There goes Metropolis's hero. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: *sends a pic of a lizard in a pointy hat* This is King Gizzard, my lizard, as a wizard for Halloween.

Damian: I would give him all my candy. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: *sends a video of their parrot*

The parrot: Polly loves crackers and Damian.

Damian: Tell Polly I love her too. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: Bruh there are so many gophers at Gotham U. *sends pic of gophers chilling in the quad*

Damian: 10/10. Good for them, living their best life.

———————

Stranger: Do fish count? If so here's Bubbles. *sends video of a goldfish*

Damian: They absolutely do. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: I went to my aunt's farm and got to ride the horses. Meet Dash. *sends Instagram story with a horse*

Damian: A fine specimen. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: Opinions on this stingray? *sends scuba diving footage*

Damian: Superb. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: I found a worm. What should I name him? *sends pic*

Damian: He looks like a Kevin. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: This is me and my stepdad with the hens we've been raising. *sends pic*

Damian: What lovely ladies. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: I went to a butterfly garden today. *sends video of a butterfly landing on their hand*

Damian: Stunning. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: I just got back from a safari. *sends album of savannah herds*

Damian: Next time take me with you. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: *sends a Ratatouille GIF*

Damian: Don't tell my family but I'm training my rats to do the same. 10/10 by the way.

———————

Stranger: This is Herbie, our class bunny. *sends a pic with the teacher fumbling in the background*

Damian: He looks more intelligent than your teacher. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: *sends pic* Got bored and bought a frog. I'm naming him Toad.

Damian: I hope your life is as dull as ever. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: Tzu Tzu keeps leaving her laundry everywhere. *sends video of a snake shedding its skin*

Damian: You're her assistant. Do your job. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: I finally got a hamster!! *sends video*

Damian: Now treat them like royalty and get yourself some tubing. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: Ideas for decorating my hermit crab's shell? For context his name is Juan and he likes the color yellow. *sends pic*

Damian: I suggest black and gold. 10/10.

———————

Stranger: I saw a turtle on my morning walk. *sends a pic*

Damian: Ethereal. 10/10.

———————

Bruce: *sends a family photo*

Damian: *blocks and reports*

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Beautiful Stranger

You Thought That You Were the Boss Tonight, but I Can Put Up One Good Fight (3)

Mommy!Wanda x Beefy!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friend has invited you out to a party and has also told you to try and bring your new girlfriend.

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Alcohol and drug consumption, W eats R out, R uses a strap on W, W is called Mommy, R is called Daddy, Dom/sub dynamics

A/N: Here you go have a party scene

September 13, 2023

“Hey! Y/N!” You hear your best friend, Yelena, call as she catches up to you in the quad. 

“Hey Lena, what’s up?” We were headed to the same class; English.  

“There’s a party this weekend that Stark is throwing. Are you finally going to come or are you babysitting again?” She asks as the two of you walk and you huff, rolling your eyes.

“Not this weekend Lena, the boys are going to their dads and it’s a bit more than babysitting at this point. I told you that.” Lena laughs.

“I’m messing with you. If they won’t be there this weekend you should convince this hot milf you’re banging to join us.” You punch Lena giving her a dead arm as she hisses in pain. “Fuck jeez I can’t even joke with you about it.” 

“Yes because you know I actually like her Lena. It’s not just about banging the hot mom next door.” You remind her and she smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

“I know, so convince her so we can all meet her.” You roll your eyes.

“I doubt she’ll want to Lena. I’m sure her party days are over and done with, besides she can’t even drink.” You mention off handedly.

“Why not?”

“She’s pre-“ You stop yourself realizing you didn’t mention before that Wanda is currently pregnant and you’re banging her. Let's just add that to your list of kinks as Lena’s eyes widen. “Don’t. Lena. Fuck. Stop! Don’t look at me like that!” She has this shit eating smirk on her face. 

“Look at you like what detka? Like you’re totally into older milf’s who are also pregnant and that’s why none of us could ever dream of getting you off? Did I forget anything?” You don’t dare tell Lena that she calls you Daddy when the two of you fuck. 

“That’s it I’m gonna murder you and I’ll make it look like a goddamn accident Lena.” You say through gritted teeth.

“Fine, fine! I give! I won’t mention it, but if she says no at least let me meet her? I do actually care if she’s treating you right and not just using you.”

“She would never Lena...she’s incredibly sweet and kind and caring and loving and....” Lena starts making gagging noises. “Why do I even bother?” You start walking ahead of her. As she scrambles to catch back up and apologize, but, you decide to ignore her.

----------------------------------------------

“Hey Wands?” You ask as she makes dinner, the boys occupied in the living room by TV and video games. 

“Yes pretty girl?” She flicks her eyes to you as she prepares vegetables for a roast she’s making.

“I got invited to a party on Friday,” Wanda nods, listening as you speak, but concentrating on the vegetables she’s cutting. “and my best friend Lena said since the boys are going to Vis’s this weekend that we should both go...I know it’s a college party and I’m sure you have no intent in partying with any of us, but my friends want to meet this mysterious woman I always talk about,” You feel your face heat up, “I told Lena you probably wouldn’t want to go, so if you don’t want to that’s fine and we can-“

“Is it important to you?” She cuts me off.

“I mean you meeting my friends is important, but it doesn’t have to be the party Lena said-“

“Then we can go to the party.” She cut you off again, but you're surprised by her answer so much that you can’t even be mad. 

“You want to meet my friends?” You ask, tilting your head, eyebrows knit in confusion as Wanda stops what she’s doing, moving around the island to stand between your legs, resting her arms on your shoulders.

“Of course I do sweet girl. I want to be a part of your life. Every part of it and that includes meeting your friends even if it’s some college party and I haven’t partied since I was your age sweet girl.” She kisses you tenderly and the boys make noises at us. 

“Go back to your show boys. Mommy’s busy.” Wanda gives them a look and the boys giggle. We had told them yesterday morning about us after what had happened the previous night. You laugh with the boys and eventually so does Wanda.

-----------------------------------------------

Wanda wears a green off the shoulder frilled and layered dress that falls to her mid thigh. You look her over and before she can even say anything as she looks herself over in the mirror You come up behind her, wrapping your arms just under her belly which the dress hides nicely as she decided she didn’t want your friends other than Lena you told her you had accidentally let it slip. Wanda wasn’t mad thankfully. 

“You look amazing beautiful girl.” You kiss her neck, her hair is flowing in waves over her shoulders and her make-up is impeccable. 

“You think so?” 

“I know so. I’m looking at you and it kind of makes me wanna skip the party and just fuck you all night with my cock.” You whisper in her ear. 

“Mmmm don’t threaten me with a good time.” She turns around, kissing you gently, not wanting to smudge her lipstick. You see her look over your outfit, you have decided to wear black skinny jeans, a white crop top and a cropped leather jacket that just barely falls past your tits. Your hair is down and straightened and you've got your knee high lace-up boots that have these little chains hanging off them. 

“Mmmm pretty girl Mommy wants you so bad.” She bites her lip as she looks you over. You pull her chin up to meet your eyes. 

“Behave yourself and you can ride Daddy’s cock until you see stars when we get home.” She simple nods and smiles. “Good girl. Grab your purse and let’s go.”

-----------------------------------------------

You hold Wanda’s hand as you get inside, music blaring people drinking and doing drugs. You're offered a joint by some girl. You think she’s in your language class or maybe networking either way you smile, taking a long drag as you feel Wanda’s hand squeeze yours, pulling your attention to her. You're reminded that you've never smoked in front of her. It’s something you tend not to do, but when it’s offered you usually take it. 

You hand it back to the girl and give a quick thank you as you find your group of friends in Stark’s basement where there are pool tables that people are playing at including your friends except for Lena. 

“Hey guys!” You speak cheerfully as you see the three of them playing a game of pool. Peter, MJ, and Kate all look at you and smile as you hug each of them asking Kate where Lena is, who is currently grabbing drinks and shots for all of you. You nod and introduce Wanda to them,

“Guys this is Wanda. We’ve been kind of seeing each other all summer. Well not exactly all summer, but we met at the beginning of summer when I moved in.” You start rambling and Wanda stops you by squeezing your hand.

“It’s nice to finally meet you all. I know Y/N here has told me you guys always invited her out, but she’s been turning you down because of me and I feel bad about taking up all her time, but she’s been a big help, She wraps her arms around your arm and You can feel her belly and her tits against you. You wanna melt into a puddle from the feeling as the conversation goes on without you.

“Okay who is ready for some drinks!?” Yelena calls out and Wanda snaps her head at the voice.

“Yel?” Wanda asks and Lena is looking at Wanda wide eyed.

“Oh hey Wands so you’re the one taking up my best friend's time!” Yelena walks over hugging Wanda like they’re old friends. 

“Am I...am I missing something?” You ask, dumbfounded.

“Well if you had ever said her name I would have known you were dating Tasha’s best friend! Wow! This is crazy!” You punch Yelena once again giving her a dead arm. “Ah! Stop doing that! It hurts!” Yelena hissed, shaking her arm trying to get feeling back as quickly as she could. 

“Tasha as in your big sister Nat? Natty? Natty bear?” Kate asks listing off literally every nickname we’ve ever given to her older sister.

“Yes! That Tasha!” You say and huff.

“Pretty girl it’s okay. Everything is fine.” Wanda reassures me as You lean your forehead against her temple,

“I need a drink...” You whimper to Wanda. 

“Go have one it’s okay if you drink. Just because I can’t doesn’t mean you need to stop yourself.” You smile and pull her in for a kiss. You go over to the table that Lena put the drinks down at noticing she still brought over six shots and six beers, well bottoms up. You take one shot after the other of the vodka Lena had brought the clear liquid burning and setting your stomach a blaze then popped the top on the beer bottle, using the table to take off the top as you start drinking it, looking back as Yelena and Wanda talk the others getting involved. 

You smiled though it was a turn of events. You weren't expecting your girlfriend to be getting along with all of your friends just fine and it didn’t matter that she’s ten years older than us, or that she has kids, or that she’s pregnant. She’s just Wanda right now. You move back over, feeling the buzz start from drinking and smoking, wrapping myself around Wanda from behind; kissing her neck. The other four were playing pool, talking with us in between turns and eventually we played a round of cut throat so we could all get involved. 

A few hours later you were floating in the clouds. All giggling from drinking. Wanda says the goodbyes for you two and how nice it was to meet everyone, taking your keys as the two of you approach the car, “I’m driving sweetie, go get in your passenger princess spot.” Wanda teases, making you giggle. 

“Jokes on you beautiful I like being passenger princess.” You tell her. “I hate driving sometimes. This is so much better.” You get comfy in your seat, closing your eyes after you've buckled in. As she starts driving you two home, she puts her hand on your thigh as you connect your phone to Bluetooth, putting on, Dove Cameron’s album Alchemical: Volume 1, skipping to the song Sand.

“I love hearing you sing pretty girl.” Wanda says squeezing your thigh, keeping her eyes on the road. You had your eyes on her the whole time you sang and she knew it.

“I’m not a great singer.”

“But you sing with your heart. So it’s beautiful.” Wanda assures me, making me smile. 

-----------------------------------------------

By the time the two of you got home you were feeling better. Though you still took the water from Wanda that she grabbed from the fridge. You sat up on the counter while you drank it as Wanda grabbed something small to reheat from earlier in the week. You watched her practically dance around the kitchen, humming a tune from the music you had playing in the car. She was absolutely beautiful.

“Wands?” You call out. When she looks over at you, your arms are outstretched, hands reaching for her. She smiled walking over to you and settling between your legs. Her arms wrapped around your waist and your own wrapped around her shoulders. 

“Is this what you need, sweet girl?” Wanda's voice is muffled against your chest. You give her a small ‘Mmm’ into her hair. “I love you being Daddy, but it's okay when you need to be all soft like this. I still love you like this.” You knew how needy you could be at times, especially when you'd been drinking. You kiss the top of her head and take a moment to just breathe her in and cherish the moment.

“I know. I just prefer it. I can be myself with you Wands and it's all I've ever given you.” She looks up at you with a smile, getting up on her tiptoes to kiss you.

“Good.” You smile into the kiss. You try to lick her lip, to keep going, but she stops you. “Ah. Food first then we can have our fun.” You subconsciously let out a whine in displeasure. Wanda smirks, whispering in your ear, “Behave and do as Mommy says sweet girl.” You felt your eyes roll back as your stomach flipped. 

Wanda had such an effect on you, sober or not. Usually you were able to overpower her; take the situation and flip it, but it was obvious to you that she wanted to win at some point. So you listened to her, even letting her feed you. You knew it made her happy. The smile on her face was as wide as ever. You knew Wanda loved being a mom, loved taking care of those around her.

-----------------------------------------------

“F-fuck…” You moaned out as Wanda's tongue buried it's way inside of you. She'd already had you cum once, but you were even more needy than either of you had anticipated. You never let others touch you, but Wanda made you feel like you were on fire. Your hand tangled in her hair, hips rocking against her face as you moaned out, “Fuck…cumming…ahhh…” You bit your lip, feeling her tongue lap inside of you as you came down from your high.

Wanda crawled back up, after cleaNing you with her tongue. She leaned down to kiss you, tasting yourself on her lips. A moan slipped past your lips before flipping the two of you over carefully. 

“My turn to make you feel good Mommy.” You leaned back down, kissing her. “I promised you my cock didn't I?” You saw Wanda's eyes light up, she'd been waiting for it. As you got up to put the strap on you looked over her body. Letting your eyes rake over her form, admiring it as you crawled up between her legs. “You are so fucking beautiful. I swear no one could even come close to you.” You told her as you slowly slid inside of her. A quiet moan slipped out as you leaned over her. “Look at Daddy while she fucks you.” Wanda's eyes locked with yours as you started your thrusts. 

Slow and steady at first listening to every little noise she made because of you. Watching her body move beneath you. Everything about it was beautiful, perfect. Nothing to you was better than this. Nothing was better than what you two had built over the summer. Nothing was better than the family you've found.

[wttcsms]

balancing act ; satoru gojo.

pairing satoru gojo x f!reader   word count 3.9k   synopsis gojo bets that he can get you to fall in love in three months, and you bet that he can't go three months with staying committed to one person and not bang them. neither of you plan on losing. content contains modern no curses!au, mentions of sex and vulgar language (but no smut yet), simp gojo <3 author’s notes i plan on wrapping things up quickly this time around, so i have five parts planned for this mini series!

Satoru Gojo is used to a wide array of reactions to any of his antics: awe (the summer analyst, Miwa, always stares at him like he himself is the one who created the stock market), irritation (Nanami is rarely ever in agreement with the comments Gojo leaves on his work), lust (Gojo gives just as much he receives because he’s benevolent like that — his words, of course). 

But he’s not quite used to being laughed at. 

He’s handsome, and he knows it, a deadly combination for any man because Shoko claims that all men are born with an astonishing amount of audacity and it only ever grows as they get older. Satoru brings up the fact that Shoko technically cheated her way through med school, and that any doctor worth her degree wouldn’t get onto patients while lighting up a cigarette of all things, but Shoko is equally stubborn and audacious as any man, and it just makes her a worthy opponent to get into arguments with. 

Being attractive and arrogant isn’t enough to keep him from suffering mild humiliation from time to time, though. The reason why Satoru doesn’t get embarrassed is because the world is unfair, so he happens to be born rich and smart enough and talented enough to just keep on getting richer. Even he is entirely aware of his privilege, but he’s got the type of personality that would be endearing even if he wasn’t hot, so everyone loves him. 

And you don’t hate him, he knows that. He also knows that you don’t love him, which is fine, because it’s not your love, or awe, or irritation, or lust (okay, maybe some lust would be nice) that Satoru wants from you. He just wants you for you, your honesty and whatever scraps of yourself that you toss to him. 

Today’s scraps are your laughter, which rings through the whole entire office, singing above the noisy clacks of keys being smashed by the analysts and the whirring of the printer shooting out hundreds of pages a minute. He feels a warmth spread from his stomach to his chest and maybe it even rises up to his neck, he’s not so sure. He should feel slightly embarrassed, he thinks, to have said something seriously only for you to find comedy in it, but he doesn’t. He just feels pleased with himself for making you laugh, like he’s done something great.

“You are so full of shit, Gojo.” You’re still smiling, even though you’re not bothering to look at him anymore. Your attention is now focused on the report one of the analysts has turned into you, and from the lack of comments you’re leaving, he assumes it’s Megumi’s work. 

“I was being serious, y’know.” Satoru’s more than tall enough to see over the cubicles, especially when he’s standing up, and he leans over it, his head and upper body leaning into your personal desk space. The cubicles don’t do jack shit for privacy, anyway, so he doesn’t feel bad when you complain that he’s invading your privacy. If it was privacy that you craved, you wouldn’t have three monitors raised, each of them displaying a jumble of numbers and words that Satoru doesn’t care about. 

“So was I.” You tell him.

Just thirty minutes ago, you walked into the office with a quad shot espresso, unceremoniously plopped your Longchamp tote onto the floor, and dramatically sighed to get your desk neighbor’s attention. Utahime is always a good sport when it comes to your antics but doesn’t bother extending the same courtesy to Satoru, which he considers to be very unfair considering that he’s technically everyone’s boss. It is his name that’s displayed on the side of the building, and his private equity firm that he’s built up alongside Suguru. 

“What happened this time?” Utahime asks you, like the good sport she is. Satoru, at that time, was pretending not to eavesdrop even though he is, because he’s a nosy bastard. 

“I hate men.” You say, leaning back in your chair. “He left me for someone nice.”

The way you say it lets him — and Utahime, who is actually the person you’re talking to — know that that nice was a direct quote from your ex.

Utahime furrows her brows, looking confused. “But you are nice.” 

Debatable, is what Satoru wants to say, but he’s remaining silent so he can get the full story out of you first.

“No. I’m a workaholic with no personality outside of my fancy finance job.” 

Ouch. 

Satoru doesn’t see an issue with you, though. So what, you’re hardworking and focused? He thinks it’s kinda hot to see someone with so much ambition and discipline. He wouldn’t have hired you if you were anything less. 

“He’s just insecure.” Utahime says, soft voice trying to soothe you, even though Satoru hears the familiar sound of your manicure typing in your login details to your computer. He knows it’s silly to think he can tell the difference between your typing and anyone else’s, and he doesn’t want to think too hard about what that could possibly mean when it comes to defining his feelings for you.

“You said the same thing about my last three exes, and they all said similar things about me.” Satoru can’t see either of you from this angle, but he’s certain that you’re opening up your emails right about now. The conversation is coming to a close, and he needs to start focusing on his own tasks, but then you say something interesting, practically baiting him to come out of his office.

“I’ve decided that from this point forward, I am swearing off men.” 

Utahime laughs. “You can’t just swear off all men because of a few bad ones.”

“Not forever.” You clarify. “Just for the time being. All the men I’ve dealt with  in Tokyo suck.”

On paper, all your exes are fantastic catches. There’s the surgeon (who found you to be too independent), the professor (who thought you were too busy to give him the attention he needed), the hedge fund associate (who thought that he liked smart girls, but apparently, not ones smarter than him), and your newest ex, the investment banker. The irony isn’t lost on anyone — an investment banker criticizing someone for being a workaholic obsessed with the prestige of their finance career? If he was going to scramble for an excuse to want to see other people, he should have chosen some other cliche line instead of using the same one someone else must have said to him. 

“What’s this about men in Tokyo?” Satoru strolls up to the divider between you and Utahime, hands in his pockets, pretending that he hasn’t been listening to the entirety of your conversation from the very beginning.

“That all of them suck.” You say, with that unwavering confidence he likes. 

“I’m a man in Tokyo.” He’s grinning.

“Yeah. I stand by what I said.” You’re not even being courteous enough to look at him, still focused on whatever email is on your screen.

His grin only grows wider.

“Maybe all the men you’ve been with are subpar, but I bet I could change your mind.” 

“Is this even appropriate for work?” Utahime interjects. 

“If it’ll make my dear employee Utahime happy, I can grab someone from HR to supervise this conversation.” Satoru says.

“It’s a trap.” You tell her, lips curling up in a smile that lets him know you’re going to say something very mean and probably true about him. “He’s already broken protocol with everyone who works there.” 

“You’re very disrespectful to your boss. Anyone else would have fired you on the spot.” Satoru only pretends to be wounded by your comments, but everyone knows that he’s as good at taking it as he is at dishing it out. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that Satoru owns this firm because he’s not very good at professionalism himself. 

Utahime mutters something under her breath, deciding not to engage further in whatever it is the two of you are doing.

“So, whaddya say? Wanna test out your ‘all men in Tokyo suck’ theory with me?” He knows this teasing won’t go anywhere, even if he wants it to. You’re good at your job, and you’re good at being a professional. Somehow, he doesn’t think you would consider fucking your boss as something very professional. 

“I would, but I have standards.” 

Satoru wants to make a snide comment about all the guys who have dumped you, but he can’t, because it’s already been established that they’re not just decent by regular standards, but stellar. Rich, successful, well educated men who could probably make you cum. 

Well, Satoru is richer, more successful, and more educated than all of them combined, he thinks. And he would gladly make you cum like crazy, if you let him. 

“C’mon, what’s wrong with me?” 

“Promise I won’t get fired if I’m being honest?” You turn your desk chair, looking up at him with mock doe eyes, and the sight shouldn’t be both endearing and hot to him, but it is. 

“Give me your worst.” He tells you, both of you smiling at the challenge. 

“I don’t give anything of myself to a man who can’t even bother to commit to anyone.” 

Of course, you have a point. Satoru’s not known for dating anyone. He takes women out on extravagant dates, yes, but he doesn’t actually practice the act of dating. 

He doesn’t see a point to it. Most people, save for his friends (a bit weird to consider some of his closest companions are actually his employees), see beyond his shiny veneer, and dating would just complicate things. Dating means someone seeing the duller, not-so-great parts of himself.  

“I could commit if it’s you.” 

The way he says it, without that familiar teasing lilt of his, makes you burst out laughing. He really is trying to commit… to the bit, that is. For a moment, Satoru almost tricks you into thinking he’s serious. 

“You are so full of shit, Gojo.”

You’re focused on your work, not the momentary hurt look that disappears from his face as quickly as it came. 

“Don’t be such a pessimist.” He tells you. “I bet I could make you believe in love again.” 

“Who said I didn’t believe in love?” You frown at that. “I just don’t believe that the men in this city are capable of it.” 

“Bonus season is upon us.” Satoru says, suddenly having a bright idea. He’s so rich that his wealth seems to be an extension of himself, and like all other parts of his body and mind, he uses it to his advantage. 

“Ugh, don’t tell me this conversation is going to affect my bonus check. I really will go to HR, then.” 

“I’ll double your bonus pay if you let me court you for three months.”

“Court me?” You’re laughing at him again. He eats it up, savors it, lets it settle on his tongue and warm his insides. 

“If you’re so convinced I’d be horrible and only prove you right, wouldn’t you jump at the chance to make some easy money?” 

He’s trying to bait you into accepting; you know it. You also know that nothing from Gojo comes easy. He makes it entirely too convenient to forget that he’s razor sharp and cutthroat, the things he needs to be in order to remain on top of the finance scene, but he’s always joking, always teasing, that it feels like he almost doesn’t like being taken seriously. 

“Like I said, I don’t deal with men with commitment issues.”

There was a brief moment in time where you considered going out with Gojo. The two of you have always been rotating in the same social circles, way back to your high school and university days. You don’t shame him for having casual sex because Gojo is genuinely sweet when he wants to be, and you know that everyone he’s ever fucked has done so more than willingly, probably too eagerly. They all get broken up over the fact that Gojo never wants to actually enter into a relationship with them, and it’s probably because they chose not to take him seriously. He has a bad habit of spitting out the truth but presenting it like some sort of joke. A guy shouldn’t take you out to a nice dinner and make you cum twice before even thinking about himself if he doesn’t want a girl to fall in love with him. 

For as long as you’ve known Gojo, he’s never dated once. Never a high school sweetheart or a tumultuous college relationship bound for disappointment and a messy breakup. Even now, he doesn’t follow the example of the other men in positions of power like him, who pursue doe-eyed college girls to shower with affection and trap into manipulative relationships. 

He’s cute and funny and would treat you right, but you can’t deal with the embarrassment of having someone only for one night or two, only to have them do the same thing they did with you, just with someone else. It would feel like a mockery. Your pride doesn’t give you room to give in to Gojo’s charm.

“Is that really your only stipulation?” He shrugs, like this is something insignificant, and you’re being so silly. “I’ll stay committed to you for the entire duration of the bet.” 

You narrow your eyes. “You need to keep your dick wet at all times. I’m pretty sure you die if you don’t get off at least once a day.” 

Utahime coughs, but it sounds too much like a laugh. 

“True, but I bet you’d be great at keeping me alive.” 

Oh, he is definitely getting sent to HR.

“So you want me to believe in love, and you’re convinced you can do this by the time bonus season rolls around, which is only three months.” You’re entering business mode, rearranging the facts and coming up with strategies in your head. Satoru never thought that someone thinking could be so attractive, but here he is, and here you are. 

“I’ll agree to participate, but only if you can handle what I consider to be proper courting.”

“What does that consist of?” He’s got you, hook, line, and sinker. There’s nothing Satoru Gojo cannot accomplish. He’s built up his own wildly successful private equity firm, doubling his family’s fortune. He graduated top of his class. He gives every girl he’s ever been with consecutive, mind blowing orgasms using just his tongue and two fingers. There’s nothing you could possibly say that his natural talents and money can’t handle. 

“No sex. No kissing. No touching.” You lean back in your chair, looking far too smug. 

“Done.” 

He doesn’t even have to think about agreeing, but you falter, just for a second. 

“Really?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“It’s not just you saying no to sex with me, but sex in general.” You pause, trying to spot when the realization of the severity of his situation is. When he doesn’t give you a reaction, just still continuing to tilt his head in mild amusement, you continue. “You can’t flirt or take anyone else on a date, and you definitely can’t fuck them, either.” 

“Yes, I’m aware.” 

“You’re going to regret this.” You huff, certain that Gojo is dumber than you thought. He might think this is all fun and games now, but when he’s pent up and unable to get off, you’re certain you’re going to receive a text from him forfeiting the bet altogether. It shouldn’t bother you that he acts like your addition to the bet is easy, because his failure means your pockets get fatter, but it’s no fun playing games when someone isn’t ready to fully play to win.

“Hmm. We’ll see.” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Make sure to finish going over all the analysts’ slide decks because I’m taking you out tomorrow night.” 

The timer for the bet starts tomorrow, then.

Satoru thinks it’s cute that you thought you had him there, dangling sex like he’s some barbarian who can’t survive without it. Sure, fucking is fun, and sure, you’re definitely denying yourself of some of the greatest experiences you could have had, but he uses his brain more than his dick. 

If any girl is worth going celibate for, it’d be you.

Sitting in his office, he can’t concentrate on his work. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much that you think not having access to your body would be enough to turn him away. Either you really do think he’s a sex addict, or the men you’ve been with aren’t as great as they appear to be. It’s probably a mixture of both, but this conclusion doesn’t make him any happier. 

Neither does having Suguru saunter into his office, without knocking. Just walks in, like he owns the place. And with his fifty-percent ownership of the firm, and his last name right next to Gojo’s on the building, he kind of does.

“HR is going to have a field day with you,” his best friend says in exchange for a greeting. Satoru would have preferred a hello.

“HR is in charge of the payroll that I fund,” is Satoru’s retort. 

“Only you would force an employee into a childish bet instead of asking her out like a normal person.”

“Didn’t force her.” Satoru conveniently doesn’t acknowledge the latter half of his statement.

“Didn’t really give her much choice, either.” Suguru smiles. “Shit, even I’d deal with your ass for two hundred grand more.” 

“Well, unfortunately for you, I’m committed to one woman only.” 

“God help her.” And then, after taking a second to think, Suguru continues. “Actually, if He really cared, He wouldn’t have kept leading her to the same places as you.” 

“Maybe I’m her blessing.” 

No one in the office knows why Suguru is laughing so hard behind Gojo’s closed door.

“There’s no way this is legal,” Utahime tells you, taking a sip out of her iced matcha latte before continuing on her half-lecture/half-rant. “Gojo needs to be behind bars.”

A bit dramatic, all things considered. It’s not like Gojo’s comments even make the list for sleazy things male coworkers have said to you before, and you’re not entirely innocent, either. You like to poke and prod at him because it’s fun, and you know that Gojo can take it. 

Utahime does not respect Gojo, but she does like him enough to tolerate him. They’re like brother and sister, so much so that one time, someone made an offhand comment about how they should just fuck to get rid of their antagonism towards each other, and they both threw up because they were so disgusted. 

“It is a bit inappropriate,” Nanami comments, and you know he’s right because when has Nanami ever been wrong?

Granted, Nanami must have been wrong sometime in his life. He started out with a similar background as everyone else working in the firm. He landed an internship and then a return offer in investment banking, despised it, pursued academia, and was halfway done with a PhD program in economics before he decided to come back and work for Gojo and Geto. He doesn’t tell anyone why he came back, and no one is close enough with him to ask and expect an honest answer.

Nanami having lunch with you is a treat because he prefers avoiding everyone in the office, so it almost feels like you’ve won a coveted prize, one to show off whenever you get back to the office. He likes to keep to himself, but even he’s only human. The interest in your little bet with Gojo is harbored by him, too, same as everyone else who’s heard about it. 

You should feel embarrassed about having your life so publicly known, but finance is a small, incestual pool. Everyone working within it knows each other, has fucked each other, and will continue to exclusively hate and love only each other. It’s a bit cultish, if you think about it, so you try not to focus on the social aspects of the job. 

“It’s not like I’m on his team or anything. I technically only handle deals managed by Geto.” You say this in defense of yourself, as if it changes the morality and ethics of the whole bet. It doesn’t, but the attempt doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Geto and Gojo are essentially two halves of the same whole.” Utahime replies. “Geto just has more public decency training.” 

“You’re telling me that you can see Geto betting someone that he can make her fall in love with him in three months?” 

“No. He’s not as audacious. I like Geto, he’s very cautious.” Nanami looks thoughtful for a second. “He would bet six months, just to be safe.” 

Satoru knows that he’s screwed the moment you’re being introduced as the newest student in his class. School started two weeks ago, so everything’s already been settled. Everything important, that is, so the hottest girl in class has been established, along with who’s going to be relentlessly bullied, and who everyone is going to cheat off of. He has different routes mapped out for getting to class, depending on his mood and who he’s trying to avoid, along with a new secret hiding spot that he’s not going to share with anyone, except for Suguru, and maybe Shoko. 

He likes that he’s already gotten all this shit dealt with so he can spend the rest of the year relaxing, but he’s watching you as you’re standing in front of the class, talking to the teacher and then introducing yourself.

The first thing he notices is that the ugly school uniforms are decidedly not ugly. He comes to this startling conclusion when the boxy, starchy white button-up shirt doesn’t look like cardboard on you, and that the gray wool of your skirt doesn’t wash you out. 

The next thing he notices is that you speak differently than any of the other teenage girls he’s dealt with, save for Utahime and Shoko. Shoko has no issue with speaking her mind, and if Satoru presses enough buttons with enough pressure, he can get Utahime to curse like a sailor. He spaces his aggressions out accordingly, so that way when she does blow up in his face, she does it in the presence of an adult. You introduce yourself confidently; there is nothing shy or meek about you, even though standing in front of a bunch of disinterested teens — your strange new peers for the rest of your high school years — should be anxiety inducing. 

Then, you take the empty seat next to him like it belongs to you, and Satoru is starting to think that maybe it does, that maybe it always has. 

(Well, Suguru is sick today, that’s why the seat was available.)

Anyway, all of his carefully laid out plans are now tossed out the window. He needs to figure out what route you take to get around, and what the rest of your class schedule looks like, and maybe it’s just him, but the former hottest girl in school has now been demoted to second-best. 

He feels a shift in the air, like the universe is trying to signal major change in his life, and rather than run away from it, Satoru settles into his seat, noticing how you’re not even giving him the time of day. 

There’s an unfamiliar feeling rising inside of him; something that says you’re going to constantly knock him off-balance and—

—he kinda likes it.

[cupid-styles]

Ahhhh I need more hockey!harry 😍 I need a whole back story to how they met, when he started teasing her and for what reason and how they end up together. It’s soo good, I especially loved the jealous blurb, I need more! ❤️

ahhhhh thank you cutie!!! here's a blurb on how they met and got to where they are now

also tysm to cutie @harrysonlylover for this collage!!!! this v much represents their relationship <3

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: none!

masterlist | talk to me

hockey h x ballerina!yn masterlist

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. . .

Things between Harry and Y/N weren’t always like this.

In fact, maybe in another world, they would’ve been friends. Even lovers, perhaps, but that may be pushing the envelope just a tad. They’re both third years, which means they started at the university at the same time. They attended all of those silly orientation meetings and events alongside one another (and few hundred others) that are designed to make incoming freshmen feel more comfortable, but in reality, just make things awkward and cringy. 

(Harry remembers visibly recoiling when he was told to come up with a fun fact, and they weren’t allowed to say anything about their majors or primary sports.) 

(He ended up going with the fact that he was born in London, which their orientation leader, Lisa, was far too interested in — an annoying amount, really. He thinks she tried getting with him at the bonfire that evening, but Harry was so exhausted he couldn’t even be bothered to pretend like he knew what she was getting at.)

But Y/N was in his orientation group, actually. Years later, he still remembers how strong her legs looked in her shorts and the way she tied her hair up with a velvet scrunchie (it was in the middle of July, and the heat was sweltering, sunrays pelting them straight into their backs and necks). He doesn’t recall what her fun fact was, but he does know that they were paired up for some dumb icebreaker activity. In an effort to get them better familiar with the campus, they had to do a scavenger hunt which, to Harry, felt like cruel and unusual punishment considering the rapidly increasing temperature. They were instructed to fill up their free, university-sponsored water bottles and get to work, returning back to the post before 5 pm, where they’d be having some sort of barbecue situation.

At first, Harry thinks she’s shy. Well, she is — she’s quiet and doesn’t say much besides a soft “thank you” when he offers to run her water bottle over to the refill station. She’s focused on the task at hand, though he can both tell that they would rather poke their own eyes out than do it.

“Let’s take a break,” Harry decides, not 20 minutes in. It’s mainly because his eyes zero in on a shady area on the quad, a semblance of shade offered by a large oak tree. Y/N, exhausted herself, doesn’t fight him.

She sits cross-legged in the grass, her posture near impeccable as Harry lays down, fixing his sunglasses into his curly hair. 

“Have you decided on a major yet?” Harry asks, desperate for some sort of small talk — normally, he doesn’t care for niceties, but the near-silence between them is killing him, considering how hot and bored he is.

“I have a ballet scholarship.” she answers simply.

“That’s cool,” he nods, though he doesn’t know a single thing about it, “I didn’t know this school was big on ballet.”

He notices the way she wrinkles her nose, eyes squinting slightly. 

“It’s one of the top dance schools in the country, only behind performing arts universities.”

“Oh. Nice.”

Y/N attempts to shake away his ignorance, head cocking to look down at the male laying at her side. “And you? What are you majoring in?”

And Harry doesn’t really mean it, but it comes out without him even realizing it. It’s just— no one’s asked him that in years, but only because where he’s from, everybody knows he was the top hockey player in the city, number five in the state. Nobody ever expected Harry to go to school to study anything because it was always known that he’d go for hockey. 

So, he snorts. He actually, physically snorts, and the look of apparent disgust is immediately clear on Y/N’s face. Parting his lips, he instantly wishes he can take it back, especially when she straightens her posture to sit up a bit higher.

“I’m sorry, I— I’m here for hockey,” Harry flounders, sitting up on his elbows. “I have a hockey scholarship.”

“And was I supposed to know that?” Y/N fires back with narrowed eyes. He shakes his head. 

“No, of course not.”

“Right,” she says, standing from the shady oasis and brushing her hands over her bum to get any grass off of it, “Let’s finish this.”

. . . 

Harry was wrong about Y/N.

He thought she was shy and quiet, maybe a bit mousy if anything. But no— it turns out, in the few hours that he’s known Y/N, if she doesn’t have a taste for someone, she’ll make it known. It’s not even in outwardly mean ways, it’s just passive aggressive, like dismissive hums at his every attempt at conversation, or him pointing out the ballet studio on their walk through the campus center. He even says “oh, wow, it looks beautiful,” hoping to pet at the excited, passionate part of her personality, but instead, she ignores him. 

She ignores him.

So when they finally finish the stupid scavenger hunt, Harry couldn’t be more eager to be done with it. He tells her he’ll submit the papers to their orientation leader so she can go fuck off and find whatever friends she’s made, and she does, without even a bit of arguing. It makes Harry sigh as he’s walking back to the big barbecue event in the quad. He feels bad for his cocky response — he didn’t even mean it, and it came off so arrogantly that she would probably forever associate him with it until they went their separate ways. 

He has a hockey thing tonight — the rest of the team that aren’t first-years are already back on campus, practicing and gearing up for the start of the season, so the coach invited him to come meet everyone — but he can’t shake how shitty he feels about someone already hating him. He decides he’ll offer an olive branch of cheese fries (he opts out of a burger or hot dog, just in case she’s vegetarian). He spots her sitting at a table in the same shady spot they were in earlier, two other girls by her side as they chat. From here, she looks happy, engaged in casual conversation with people she could’ve met today or known for years — he really can’t tell.

When he makes it over to their table, he expects Y/N to at least look up at him, some sort of recognition in her expression, but instead she just looks… confused? Bored?

“Hey,” Harry greets awkwardly, feeling that their conversation immediately took a pause due to his presence. He places the cheese fries down on the table. “I’m sorry again about today. I don’t want that to be your first impression of me.”

Based on her demeanor, he doesn’t expect a gracious response; if anything, a lackluster “it’s fine” would have sufficed. But instead, her eyebrow quirks and she cocks her head to the side. 

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

It hits Harry in the gut. 

He flounders, his lips parting open and closed like a fish gasping for air. He collects himself a moment later, pressing his mouth into a tight line. 

“You’re right. Must have confused you with someone else,” he replies with a clenched jaw. “Enjoy the fries anyway.”

His legs quickly carry him far away from the table and in the direction of the hockey arena and locker room. He hopes he can pull some skates on and at least shoot around a little, because if he ever has to see that girl’s face again, she’ll have hell to pay.