#take an hour or so to go through most of the usual stretching routines from training

[circusislife]

aszexdrctfuvgybhunj morning!!!

how ru? food/water/stretch??

also: ur awesome, love ya /p!!

and goodnight to you! :D <3

breakfast had, stretches good! (also still very pleasantly flexible from "rag-doll stretching" I did two days ago :3)

love you too! /p and you're also so very cool and caring!!!

(ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧<3

[esouliie]

everything comes out, teenage petulance ⋆⟡˖

– synopsis | someone from wanda’s past interrupts your saturday morning and you’re not happy about it. wanda, however…

– warnings | angst, hurt/comfort, age gap couple, reader is younger & inexperienced and with that comes✨ emotional immaturity✨ but wanda is *chefs kiss* at giving reassurance :3

– notes | not proof read but the writing is rough!!! but but but i tried to write the inexperienced reader in an age gap relationship with the concept of conflicting emotional maturity… and i hate it lol, the dialogue sucks ass :/ i wish i could write reader with better petulant teenager energy!

You woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and the soft hum of Wanda moving about the kitchen. Saturdays with her are your favorite, a break from the routine of the week. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Wanda's voice floated in from the other room.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," her tone gentle and affectionate. "I've made us some coffee."

You stretched and yawned, making your way to the kitchen where Wanda stood by the counter, her eyes twinkling as she hands you a mug. You took a sip, savoring the rich flavor of your favourite Colombian blend, overloaded with the insurmountable amount of sugar and cream she put in. Usually, she complains about how you take your coffee - constantly complaining how your daily sugar intake was enough to knock out an elephant - but she knew you wouldn’t drink coffee any other way.

And you needed coffee.

"Thanks, Wands," you mumbled as you smiled up at her, noticing her nose scrunch as she mimicked your smile. She's a few years older than you, and she wore it with pride. She was confident in herself, there was never a time she felt insecure about her age, and the most emotionally intelligent person you’ve ever met. In the beginning of your relationship, all of your “arguments” ended with healthy communication from Wanda’s side whereas you’d close up like a clam, refusing to talk or fight or even run away. You’d just switch off. And so, her maturity and confidence used to make you feel a bit self-conscious. But every day was better, because you have an excellent teacher who loves you endlessly.

You and all your emotional problems.

"Ready for our walk?" she asked, reaching for the leash. "Lucky's been waiting all week."

You nodded eagerly. "Absolutely. Let's go."

You both had been watching Lucky for the past couple weeks. Your bestfriend - Kate Bishop - had recently gone to Russia to visit her girlfriend’s parents. You were all for it, an exciting buzz had followed you the whole upcoming week. Wanda was a bit unsure at first, having never owned a dog, she wasn’t sure how to take care of it, but you reassured you had enough experience for the both of you.

The park was just a short walk from your house, and as you stepped outside, the crisp morning air filled your lungs. Lucky, the exuberant golden retriever, darted ahead, his tail wagging furiously. but never too far away from you both. The park was alive with people and their pets, the sound of laughter and conversation mingling with birdsong. Children ran across the grass, their gleeful shouts echoing through the trees.

Wanda took your hand, her fingers warm against yours. "It's such a beautiful day," she said, her eyes scanning the park. "Perfect for a walk."

This week had been especially busy for both of you. Wanda had been tirelessly working as the director of her own gallery, a lifelong dream that she had finally realised after months of dedication and effort. Meanwhile, you were preparing for your finals, which meant spending countless hours holed up in the library or Wanda's home office. As a result, the past few days you had seen very little of each other, making the rare moments like this morning even more precious.

You hummed in agreement and squeeze her hand, feeling a rush of affection for the blonde. “Here! You take this!” She offered, handing you Lucky’s ball in exchange for his lead.

Just then, before you could run off to play fetch, someone called out, "Wanda!" Her grip on your hand immediately loosened, and she dropped it, stepping a few steps away. You turned to see an older man - his mousy brown hair styled neatly with a suit jacket over his arm - approaching with a skip in his step.

There was no ring on his finger.

"Wanda, is that really you?" he asked, a broad smile spreading across his face , showing a bit too much teeth for you, as he hugged her warmly. You almost rolled your eyes as they rocked side to side in their embrace, shared laughter floating between them.

As fucking if.

“Vis! It’s been ages.” Wanda is the first to pull away, and yet her arms are still wrapped around his biceps. Your eye twitched as you notice her brush her fingers along the stretched fabric.

You stood there awkwardly. The pair fell into easy conversation as if they were ex lovers or something, and you waited for an introduction that never came. Their voices became a distant murmur as you drifted away from the conversation, your attention returning to Lucky, who was no longer by your side, and who was dangerously close to the pond, trying to reach the ducks with his snout.

“Lucky! Leave the ducks alone!” You called, grabbing his lead from Wanda’s, albeit loose grip, hurrying over towards the dog who was either ignoring you or hyper-fixated on reaching those ducks.

You’re not sure what happened next. You either spooked Lucky out of his trance or he really was being an ass today, but as soon as you got close enough to clip his lead to his collar, he spun on his back legs, knocking into you and zooming away. You stumbled, your balance slipping as you flailed to stay upright. With a yelp, you tumbled down, your body hitting the muddy bank. Your leg splashed into the water, soaking your entire leg. Wet and cold, you scrambled to stand up but a sharp pain shooting through your ankle had you sinking back on to the bank, before you managed to pick yourself up on your good leg. Tears from the pain and embarrassment blurred your vision as you looked down at the state of you. Your pretty dress Wanda had picked out for you this morning was coated in mud and all sorts of dirt. You watched in grimace as pond water dripped out of your shoe as you moved away from the scene of the crime.

Remembering you weren’t alone, and your girlfriend had probably seen the dog wipe you out, you searched for Wanda, only to find her still with her “old friend.” In fact, they seem to have moved over towards a spare bench as you noticed how close they were sat next to each other. Turned towards one another, their arms were basically brushing. Wanda had laughed at something Vis had said as she threw her head back, almost falling backwards until he grabbed onto her, pulling her closer towards him.

The sight made your stomach churn. Anger swirled in a violent revenge inside, and yet, it was sadness that slipped down your face. You felt a burning sensation in your chest and a lump forming in your throat.

All you wanted to do was go home.

A mother and her young daughter who had watched you fall made their way over to you, the question already posed in the way she looked at you. “Are you alright?”

Your teary eyes shifted back to the bench. Still lost in conversation, you watched and waited, wondering what it was they were talking about, wondering if she had even noticed you’re hurt.

But it’s clear she hadn’t seen you fall… or maybe she just forgot you were even here.

“I’m fine.” You replied, but your eyes deceived you.

The woman followed your gaze, “Oh! Are they your parents?”

You scoffed but there wasn’t any bite to it, and fresh tears rolled off your face, “No.”

You began to hobble forward, in search of Lucky but the stranger was one step ahead of you. She grabbed onto your arm, claiming you shouldn’t put your weight on your injured ankle, as she sent her daughter ahead looking for Lucky. She found him in no time, on the other side of the pond, no longer trying to reach the ducks but sat watching them.

You called for him, and without a fuss, he came. You clipped him to his lead, as he stared up at you curiously. He seemed to sense your distress and was suddenly still, looking up at you with a sorrowful expression, as if he understood the part he had played in this. Before you could return to full height, he leaned his head into yours. His actions saying a thousand words, and you couldn’t help but smile at the pup, giving him a little scratch. “It’s okay, bud. I know you didn’t mean to.”

Meeting the concerned mother’s gaze, you pointed towards Wanda, “I’m just gonna…” You trailed off but she understood, turning away with a genuine “get well soon”, instructions to ice your ankle as soon as you get home, and her daughter in hand. With that, she turned in the opposite direction, heading back towards where you fell.

You walked in the other direction, deciding to go around Wanda. You didn’t want to see her right now. Noticing the park exit in sight, Lucky dragged on his lead, trying to turn back the way you came.

“No, Lucky. We’re going home.” You ushered him through the gates, “She can stay here with him.”

A shout caught your attention. Behind you, Wanda was walking - almost running - towards you. The man was nowhere in sight. “Y/N! Where did you go? Why are you leaving?” You noticed a tinge of frustration in her voice, but that was dropped as soon as she took in your soaked state. “What happened?”

“Oh so you did remember I was here.” With that, you turned and walked away as fast as your ankle would let you.

“What-?” You heard Wanda struggle for words behind you before she caught up, her hand grabbing your cold, still - damp arm. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“You would know if you weren’t so impressed by your boyfriend back there.” You spat, shrugging off any hold she had on you.

She grabbed your arm again, firmer this time. “He’s not my boyfriend. His name’s Vision. We went to school together. I haven’t seen him in years.”

Her tone remained the same soft melody, despite the obvious frustration earlier.

You remained silent, scoffing in reply, as you tried to walk away, but she stopped you again, turning you around to face her.

Her warm hands held your cheeks, forcing you to make eye contact. “Hey, what’s really wrong?”

Her gaze softened, concern evident, and you felt tears pooling again as you fought within yourself, torn between letting go of your anger or clinging to it like petulant teenager.

“Don’t shut me out. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You forgot about me,” you whispered, your voice trembling as tears streamed down your face. She wiped at them and a hum encouraged you to continue.

“You dropped my hand, and was talking to that guy so much, you didn’t even know I was still there. Lucky was acting up, so I went to get him, and I fell in the pond. My ankle really hurts, I think I sprained it, and I’ve ruined my dress and—” A sharp sob cut you off as your emotions overwhelmed.

Sensing your distress, Wanda pulled you into her arms. “It’s okay, baby,” she consoled softly, her voice remaining gentle and soothing.

Being in Wanda's arms usually helped you calm down. The warmth of her embrace and the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed steadily would bring you a sense of peace. You would listen to her heartbeat, syncing your breath to its comforting rhythm, as her presence soothe your worries away.

However your anger surged, unable to latch onto a single thing as it flailed wildly. You pushed back against her chest, but she didn’t let go. "No, don't baby me! You forgot about me! I fell into a pond, and you weren't even there to help. A stranger did, Wanda. A fucking stranger cared more about me than my own girlfriend because she was too busy with some fucking guy!"

Her grip tightened slightly as she whispered, a juxtaposed effort to your loud volume, “I know, and I’m so sorry.” But you were too upset to care, your hurt and frustration drowning out her words of apology. You tried to close down on yourself, shielding away from the pain.

“Wanda, let go of me,” you said, hands pushing against her as your voice trembled with the effort to hold back the flood of emotions.

“No,” Wanda replied firmly, her eyes searching yours. “Tell me how you feel.”

“I already told you! ” Her persistence had you shouting again, the walls you were trying to build around your heart crumbled. Tears welled up in your eyes as your throat closed up as you started to sob uncontrollably. Frantic images of Wanda on the bench with the man flashed through your mind, tormenting you. You wiped at your face desperately, but the tears kept coming, a torrent of pain, betrayal and immeasurable grief.

“You acted like I didn’t exist,” you choked out between sobs. “It was like you were ashamed of me.”

Wanda’s eyes widened, not expecting that to be your response. “I’m not ashamed of you.” She said, her voice cracking with emotion. “I don’t know why I dropped your hand or why I didn’t introduce you as my girlfriend. It was a mistake and I’m so sorry.” Her own tears began to pool, her sorrow evident.

“I could never be ashamed of you, Y/N.”

She pulled you into a tight embrace, tears falling on top of your head as she whispered a few more apologies, and a promise to do better, to never make you feel invisible again or doubt her love for you.

“I want to go home.” You whispered, with a defeated energy.

Wanda remained unconvinced, though she understood your struggle. She had been tirelessly encouraging you to be more open about your feelings, and she had seen you make significant progress. However, she knew that progress wasn’t linear. Despite your improvements since you first started dating, she anticipated the occasional bad day. Recognising that this conversation wasn't suited for a public setting, Wanda shifted the focus. “I think Lucky does too,” she said softly, nodding towards the enthusiastic dog at your side.

You followed her gaze to Lucky, who was wagging his tail so energetically - despite the tense conversation he had just been present in- it seemed he might take off at any moment. “Okay, boy. Let’s go,” you said, giving him the command he was eagerly awaiting.

As the golden retriever began to trot down the street, you turned to the older woman. “I’m sorry Wands.”

The weight of those few words lingered in the air, before you felt a gentle squeeze on your hand as Wanda had intertwined her fingers with yours, her grip reassuring and steadfast. “I know. I’m sorry too.”

She didn't let go the entire way, and once again, her presence was a silent promise of growth, support and understanding as you made your way home together.

[ladywhistlewrites]

Hi can I request a wife x Anthony bridgerton story where reader is finally pregnant and how she would tell Anthony and the family

hi darling, ofc!! (omg thanks for sending an ask)🩷

Anthony Bridgerton x female wife! reader

warnings: mentions of period/blood, pregnancy

***

The morning light filters through the delicate lace curtains, casting a warm glow over the room as you stretch beneath the covers. It’s early, and the house is still wrapped in the serene quiet of dawn. You take a deep breath, feeling the familiar tug of routine urging you to start the day. As you move to rise, a sudden realization freezes you in place. You glance down at the crisp white sheets beneath you and feel a jolt of surprise and anticipation. There is no sign of your monthly visitor.

Your heart begins to race. Could it be? After all these months of hope and disappointment, dare you believe it? Your hands tremble slightly as you press them to your abdomen, a wave of tentative joy washing over you. You have to be sure. Quietly, so as not to wake the household, you slip from the bed and dress quickly, your thoughts a whirlwind of hope and possibility.

Making your way down the hall, your steps are light, almost as if you are floating. Each breath feels like a prayer, a silent plea for your dreams to be true. As you approach Anthony’s studio, you hear the soft scratching of his pen against paper. He’s been up for hours, as is his custom, losing himself in work before the household stirs.

You hesitate for a moment at the door, gathering your courage. Then, with a bright smile breaking across your face, you push it open and step inside. Anthony looks up, his eyes lighting with surprise and pleasure at the sight of you.

“My love,” he greets, rising from his desk. “What brings you here so early?”

You can barely contain your excitement as you close the distance between you, your hands reaching out to grasp his. “Anthony, I have news. The most wonderful news.” Your voice trembles with emotion, and you see his eyes widen, a spark of anticipation igniting within them.

“What is it?” he asks, his tone eager, almost breathless.

“I… I think I’m pregnant,” you whisper, tears of joy welling in your eyes. “I checked the sheets this morning, and there was nothing. I haven’t felt any of the usual signs. Anthony, I believe we are finally going to have a child.”

For a moment, he is silent, the words hanging in the air between you. Then, with a cry of joy, he sweeps you into his arms, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. Laughter bubbles from your lips as you cling to him, the room a blur of motion and happiness.

He sets you down gently, his hands framing your face as he gazes into your eyes, his own brimming with tears. “My love, you’ve made me the happiest man in the world,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “We are going to be parents.”

You nod, unable to speak, overwhelmed by the depth of his joy and the love shining in his eyes. He kisses you then, a tender, reverent kiss that speaks of promises and dreams and the future you will build together.

In the hours that follow, you and Anthony make plans to share the joyous news with the rest of the Bridgerton family. The day seems to fly by, a whirlwind of preparations and secret smiles, your heart soaring with the knowledge of the life growing within you.

As evening falls, the dining room is a picture of elegance and warmth. The table is set with the finest china, gleaming silverware, and fresh flowers that fill the air with a sweet fragrance. The soft glow of candlelight bathes the room in a golden hue, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

The family gathers, their faces alight with curiosity and affection. You can barely contain your excitement, your eyes meeting Anthony’s across the table, a silent communication passing between you. Finally, as the conversation lulls, Anthony rises, his hand reaching for yours.

“Everyone,” he begins, his voice steady but filled with emotion, “we have some wonderful news to share. We have just learned that we are expecting a child.”

For a heartbeat, there is silence, and then the room erupts in joyous exclamations. Daphne and Eloise rush to embrace you, their laughter mingling with yours. Benedict and Colin slap Anthony on the back, their congratulations hearty and sincere. The younger Bridgertons dance around the room, their excitement infectious.

Violet, her eyes shining with tears, crosses the room to you. She takes your hands in hers, her smile radiant as she draws you into a warm embrace. “Oh, my dear,” she whispers, her voice trembling with happiness, “this is the most wonderful news. I am so happy for you both.”

You hold her tightly, the love and acceptance in her embrace filling you with a profound sense of belonging. “Thank you, Violet,” you whisper back, your voice choked with emotion. “We are so blessed to have all of you to share this with.”

As the evening unfolds, the room is filled with laughter and celebration. Glasses are raised in toasts, and stories are shared, each one adding to the tapestry of joy that weaves through the night. You sit beside Anthony, your hand in his, your heart full to bursting with love and happiness.

This is the beginning of a new chapter, a future filled with promise and hope. And as you look around at the faces of those you hold dear, you know that this child will be welcomed into a world brimming with love and joy, surrounded by family who will cherish them always.

***

hope you like it!!🩷

[manifestobackshot]

Hoon who's so stressed after a Figure skating comp and just needs to take out all his stress on you <33

Stressed

Poor Hoon who can't even wait to properly be alone with you, his manager turned dirty little secret, to fuck.

    ✰ PAIRING

↳ park sunghoon x fem!reader

    ✰ GENRES & AUS

↳ smut, figure skater!sunghoon au, secret relationship

    ✰ WORD COUNT

↳ 1.3k words

    ✰ WARNINGS/CONTENT

↳ reader is sunghoon's manager, they have sex in secret, car sex, biting, pain kinda, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, biting, sunghoon is a little selfish

if you read, please reblog.

—

It was a bad run for Sunghoon, showed up late and lost 15 minutes of preparation, couldn't land his routine as he usually does, didn't place like he usually does. As a perfectionist, this fucked him up more than anything. Even worse, his coach scolds him after, going on about how conditioning obviously wasn't conditioning him enough, how this season seems to be the beginning of his downfall, how so much work goes into molding and shaping Sunghoon into the perfect skater, and yet he still manages to end up like this.

His coach has more words to say, but as you pass by, he stops his scolding and calls you over, "Christ, I can't anymore. Do you have the manager's spare I gave you?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Just take him out to the van first, I don't have the energy right now. Sunghoon, show up at 6 am tomorrow, not 7 am. We clearly have work to do," he finishes, rolling his eyes and storming off.

You two walk out to the parking garage alone, passing by a couple cars exiting. It's quiet on the way there, not a peep from Sunghoon, only the sounds of cars, the rustling of his competition bag, and your footsteps.

You approach and unlock the team van, opening the door and letting Sunghoon in the backseat before climbing in with him. You have some room to sit, talk, and ask what the fuck happened in the comfort of idle time and tinted windows.

Surprisingly, Sunghoon is first to ask something, "Can you do me a favor?"

"Mm," you acknowledge, dropping your professional manager act and inching closer to him, leaning on his shoulder.

"Help me out," he starts, taking your hand into his and guiding it onto his abdomen, trailing it down towards his sweats, "relieve some stress for me?"

You know that the rest of the team, coach included, take forever to deal with things after the competition. Usually, Hoon would be back there mingling and whatnot for at least another half hour. Right now, you have the time.

...And how could you ever say no to him when he's like this? Aching against your hand, cold palms guiding you to where he wants you most, face flushed with frustration and humiliation from the verbal ass-whooping handed to him, instability in his voice from anger... no isn't even on your mind.

You don't even say anything to him as you gently move his hand so you can slightly roll over and quickly undo the button on your black jeans, sliding them and your panties down your thighs and off of you to place them in the front seat for easy access later on.

Sunghoon, though he wants you so bad right now, doesn't say anything as he waits for you to get ready for him to fuck you. He just looks at you, lips parted and brows slightly furrowed, overwhelmed with both frustration and need to release. His sweats and boxer briefs are pulled down just enough to release his cock, swelled with arousal, so he can spit in his hand and swipe it over his pink tip and stroke himself in anticipation.

You know he gets quiet when he's angry, and he loves to fuck when he's angry. It's nothing against you, in fact, he can express himself much better through his action than his words in moments like this.

And express himself he does when you hover over him to lower yourself onto him, sacrificing your comfort and preparation to take care of your dear skater Sunghoon, and he places his hands on your hips, pushing you down onto his length with a searing stretch that feels good only because it's him.

He hisses entering you dry like this, enjoying the warmth of your walls but missing the wetness, though, in this moment, he doesn't care. In time, you'll be exactly what he needs, he knows it.

Words can't express how disappointed he is in himself, how frustrated he is, how mad he is at his coach, or how good you feel around him. All he can do is bury his face in the crook of your neck as he lifts your hips to set the pace he wants you to fuck him at—rough and fast.

You give in, keeping up with the direction his hands are so desperately signaling to you. You look down at him as he's focused on how it feels to fuck it out, thick, dark eyebrows knitted in pleasure and chasing release.

When Sunghoon looks up, you feel the tip of his nose and the plushness of his lips trail upwards before leaving you, replacing the sensation with his teeth grazing—no, biting— your neck.

It's hard to match his desperation and fuck him as hard as he wants you when he's locked onto you like this, thrusting upwards into you. You roll your hips into him, causing the seats of the car to buck and creak with every movement.

Still, it isn't enough for Sunghoon, muffling frustrated whimpers against the skin of your neck—now purple and red—as he tries to bury himself deeper, deeper, and deeper into you. Maybe, if he buries his cock into you deep enough, he'll be numb to the anger.

Truthfully, though, it's clear that he still feels every ounce of anger in his body, and he's making you feel it too. His strokes are vicious and sharp, tip hitting your cervix every time he bottoms out. It hurts, but you let him, cause you know he needs it.

Hoon feels blissfully painful inside of you as he drags his length against your walls, face still buried in your neck, kissing, licking, and biting you. He loves the way you feel wrapped around him, slowly becoming wetter as he fucks you so, so well.

He groans, both out of frustration and how good your cunt feels as he mercilessly uses you to relieve his stress. His hair clings to your skin as sweat sticks you two together with Sunghoon's face buried into your neck and chest, breathing heavily as he chases his orgasm.

The sound of your wet cunt makes his eyelids flutter closed, long eyelashes softly brushing against your skin as he imagines how hot it must look for you, all sloppy and swollen, to take his cock this roughly. He wishes he had to time and space to lay you out and see himself stretch your tight pussy out on his cock, taking every inch of him like he know you can.

He loves having you like this, knowing that you'd do anything for him even though it means you hurt a little more for him. You ache, for his pleasure. You act, for his pleasure.

Sunghoon grips the flesh on your hips harder, so strongly that you know it'll bruise and ache for days after, a reminder of him. He grabs you and slams you into him, bottoming out every time without failure, at an ever-increasing, delicious pace.

His breathing picks up and he slides down the seat just the slightest bit so he can fuck up into you even better. Hoon can't hide anymore, moans escaping his hips as he pushes you down further, and further, until he's moaning in desperation of release.

As he's pounding mercilessly into your sopping wet cunt, with one sharp motion, he fully sheaths himself into you one last time, shooting his hot, anguished cum inside of you, shuddering against your skin as he shallowly fucks the last drops of cum out of himself.

Out of breath, he pulls out of you, letting his load drip out of you onto his sweatpants before you carefully roll over to start cleaning up.

"Sorry," he exhales, "was a little stressed."

[russellsppttemplates]

Just say the word (Max Verstappen)

A secret relationship is hard enough to deal with when you don't have people constantly shipping your boyfriend with someone else

Note: english is not my first language. This is the first time I'm writing athlete!reader, so I thought about the sports I know better and swimming seemed fitting for what I wanted!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: secret relationship

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"You're alone today, Y/N?", one of the other girls, Ella, asked as you retrieved your waterproof workout plan sheet from the folder.

"I'm going away tomorrow and I won't be back until Monday morning, so I squeezed in my Saturday session now; Carol is coaching with the younger group today later", you explained the fact that you were at the pool without your coach.

At first, swimming was an after school activity since your parents worked long hours and they needed you to be occupied and somewhere with someone looking after you, but as you grew older, your passion for the activity became more serious. Combined with your natural skill and hard work - and, truth be told, a dust of luck from deep pocket sponsors - you were able to become a full time swimmer. Tokyo 2020 Olympics was the proudest moment of your career as you stepped on the podium next to two of the people you looked up to the most, wondering if you were ever going to stand in the top step and hear your national anthem play. Baby steps - Carol told you immediately - this is already a huge achievement, Y/N!

"Do you want to stretch together?", Ella wondered, throwing a foam roller for you to catch once you nodded and getting one for herself.

"Where are you off to this weekend?", she asked curiously. You were playing a risky game, you knew that much, going away only on weekends and travelling to countries where, coincidentally, the Formula One Grand Prix was being held.

Luckily for you, no one seemed to make the connection as the last two years you managed to keep your relationship a secret. You first met Max in a sponsor party at the beggining of your professional career when you needed to up your earnings as the costs of travelling to competitions was getting higher and heavier on your savings. It fell through, but other sponsors came your way and you and Max started hanging out after it. The Dutch driver was funny and charming and after winning your first Olympic medal, you felt unstoppable and confessed your feelings for him. When he admitted he felt the same for you, you went from there on. At first, the decision to keep it secret was both strategic, as Max didn't want you to miss out on any sponsorships or teams backing you because you were in a relationship with him, and personal as he didn't want the world's prying eyes on your relationship.

Two years later, you felt like there had never been a right time to do it so things stayed the way they were, and most of the time, you didn't mind it.

"Austria", you kept the city to yourself as you worked on your hips as they were still tight from yesterday.

"Didn't you go there last year?", she quirked an eyebrow.

"Last year, I had more of a city break weekend, this time around I'm going for a nature approach, you know? No phones, no Internet, digital detox and all of that", you offered, doubling up the excuse so she wouldn't expect to see and Instagram stories or posts from your weekend away.

"Sounds nice! It can really get in your head when you're too long on them - I have a timer on my phone because otherwise I won't even notice the amount of time I spend on social media", she smiled before silently asking if she could take the foam rollers back to their box.

Getting yourself on the water and used to the temperature, you started with your usual warm up routine before following the plan you stuck to the platform.

On some days, the session felt quick, before you knew, the other athletes were already stretching and getting prepped for their own session. Today, it seemed like it would never end, as you looked at the clock and only fifteen minutes had gone by since the last time you checked it. At least your times were improving, you thought, drinking some water before going back to practice your butterfly stroke as dictated by the workout sheet.

It was already evening time when you sat down on your bedroom floor, packing everything you had laid out to take on your trip with you when your phone rang.

"Hey, liefje", Max said as his face showed up on your screen, "how was your day?".

"Good. Had training in the morning, then a physio session because my hips kept hurting, and I found some time to buy a replacement for my moisturiser before I came home to have dinner and pack", you showed him the suitcase, "and you? The car seems good, a nice gap to the others as well", you mused.

"The same old Friday, really. Woke up, came to the track, a little debrief with Alice and then we headed to the track. Only tomorrow will tell, but I'm confident on the pole", he smiled, "can't wait to have you here with me and see your gorgeous face up close".

"You can see it now", you ridiculed as you rested your chin on your phone and looked into the camera so Max could have an interesting angle of your features, "beautiful, am I right?", you joked.

"The most beautiful", he complimented, "are you nearly done packing?", he wondered.

"Yes, just my charger and a few other last minute things left - I'll put them in my backpack tomorrow morning", you reasoned.

"You better get to sleep, your flight is early", your boyfriend encouraged, "I really need it - a proper shower first and then I'll go to bed", you assured, "I love you, Max, see you tomorrow", you blew him a kiss.

"I love you too, gorgeous! Text me updates from your flight, okay?", he smiled, smooching his lips for you to see before you ended the videocall.

The shower helped you unwind for the night, a little list on your kitchen counter to remember you of the last minute things as you turned off the lights and got back to your bedroom, your bed waiting for you so you could sleep a decent amount of hours.

Sitting on the waiting area of the airport, you placed your backpack on your legs and rested your elbows there, grabbing your phone to scroll through social media.

Ella was right, people did spend too much time on these. Everyone around you seemed to be on their phone or tablet devices.

A photo of your boyfriend showed up in your explore page, a fan page showing his walking back to the garage after FP1 and Alice was trailing right beside him.

Scrolling through the carrousel of pictures, you found a small video of them laughing together about something. The comments under it were the same as usual.

No one can convince me they're not together!😌 (to be read as I know I'm delulu)

If they're not, I'll volunteer to show them how good they would be for eachother! 🫣

Such a power couple 😮‍💨🥵

When they finally knock some sense into eachother's head and realise they're meant to be together, I'm claiming them as my parents! 🥹

No matter how many times you saw it, it never got easier. For all everyone knew, Max was single, so they weren't acting as a disregard of you. They didn't knew a regard of you to begin with. So they took interest in his love life and hoped he was in a relationship with some of the women he interacted with. Max usually didn't let many of them start to begin with, but Alice worked for the team, he could only get so far away and be distanced from her.

Max wouldn't cheat on you, you knew that. But the comments made you wonder. Would he be better off with someone else? Someone who could follow him anywhere?

The thoughts often plagued your mind, and they hadn't yet turned to the your other insecurities, so you had to be thankful for that.

Boarding on the plane, you played some music on your earbuds as you fished out your kindle to continue reading the book you started at the beggining of the week.

The buzz was installed on track as you found your spot in the stands just in time to see the marshalls tidying up whatever was left on the concrete so qualifying could start without a hitch.

This was usually how you did it. On Saturday, you would watch qualifying from the stands, waiting a little in the fan zone before Max whisked you into the hospitality with Gianpiero's help. On Sunday, you either stayed on the stands and repeated the same procedure or you arrived early to the track and stayed in his driver's room so to not lift any suspicions. You had been invited to watch a few races with the Paddock Club pass with some of the other Olympic athletes, but it hadn't happened in a while.

To anyone, you were a regular fan. You had your RedBull cap on and sunglasses, and you had never been recognised in one of the races, so you felt calm. The tricky bit of keeping your relationship hidden from the public eye was going to be later, for now, you could just wait and appreciate the fast laps.

"I'm sorry, you're Y/N Y/L/N, right?", a girl in a Ferrari cap called your name. Crap.

"Hi, I am", you smiled, "I'm sorry to ambush you like this - I am a big fan and you're a big inspiration to me. I also swim", she reasoned as she fumbled with her phone, "do you mind if my father takes a picture of us?", she politely asked.

"That's okay, yes", you smiled, taking off your sunglasses briefly as the older man snapped a picture before he shook your hand, "she won't shut up about your achievements! Did you tell Ms. Y/L/N that you're going to be in the qualifiers for Paris?".

"It's Y/N, please", you requested, "That's fantastic, congratulations! I hope it all works out for you and I'll see you around there!", you hugged her quickly before she thanked you and found their seats.

She seemed nice enough and it wasn't like you were a public figure, at least to the general public anyway really, so between all of the people who could've spotted you, she was fine.

"C'mon Max!", you yelled as he and Charles seemed to be separated by a few tenths of a second, cheering loudly when the times were set and your boyfriend got the pole position.

The timing was perfect as Max took a little longer than expected on his interviews, fans scattering to the fanzone and track experiences while you spotted Max's engineer, walking with him when no one seemed to be paying attention to it.

"I'll tell Max you're already here", he smiled before he closed the door of the driver's room.

It always felt a little odd. Like you were doing something forbidden and illegal by being there.

"Yes, we'll meet in a bit", Max told whoever was in the corridor after he opened the door, closing it back when you jumped on him, legs wrapping around his waist, "hey, pole sitter", you smirked, nuzzling your face on his neck and kissing the soft skin.

"Hello, liefje", he mumbled against your skin before you pulled away, "kiss?", you asked for his lips to settle on yours for a bit, filling up on eachother's presence.

"No one saw you come here?", he asked. You shook your head, "everybody was paying attention to other things, the only people I encountered already know so we're safe", you stated.

Max noticed the change of tone, but you wouldn't have time to properly discuss it so he let it slide for now, telling you instead about the session and how the car felt, as well as the dinner plans her had for you since the room service menu was "so varied we could make our own little buffet".

You stayed in the room while he had the debrief, leaving together when you made sure no one would see you two.

"Room service called back, they said they'll bring the food in ten minutes", Max said as you got out of the bathroom, dressed in pyjamas and fresh out of the shower, "That's good, I'm starving", you smiled as you sat down.

Max always received the food at the door to ensure no prying eyes would see something he didn't want, along with other precautions like packing up all your things in case someone from housekeeping enjoyed the gossip and took the rumours somewhere else.

"I know something is bothering you", Max began you had taken a piece of chicken to your much, "I noticed it when we were in my room, and even now there's something", he nudged your arm.

Chewing and swallowing afterwards, you moved the broccoli around your plate, gathering your thoughts before speaking up, "do you know people ship you and Alice?", you spoke up.

"Don't change the subject, darl - is that it?", Max tried to understand.

"People seem to think you'd make a great couple, like, they have your whole relationship panned out. Everyone thinks she's very pretty - and I agree with them -, and that you two have chemistry and that it would be nice for you to be with her - looks exchanged and all sorts of ideas", you mumbled.

"Liefje, I'd never do that to you, I don't interact with her that way", Max replied instantly.

"I know you don't, but it hurts to see", you admitted, "comments people make about my boyfriend and how he really should start dating someone - and they know who that person is, so really it's just a matter of putting two and two together!", you let a tear fall down your cheek.

"Y/N, I didn't know it was bothering you so much and bringing you such sadness", Max cupped your cheek, thumb wiping the tears that followed suit and looking into your eyes.

"I can ask the team to issue or statement - or we can go public. I don't care what we do as long as you feel better about it", he comforted.

"Do you want to go public?", you asked, afraid of the answer.

"Y/N, my love, being secret was just to protect you, for your good. If going public is the solution for this, I'm the first one to walk into the paddock tomorrow with you, holding hands and everything", he moved his hands to cradle your own.

"You mean that? It's just, I don't want people to assume you're single and throw themselves at you - or throw someone at you! I know Alice won't do it, but other people might and I'm tired of having to lie to people about where I'm going and saying no to dates they try to set up and why I gave a RedBull rain jacket on my car", you chuckled at the last one, remembering your coach's reaction when she saw it, "Since when do you follow F1?", Carol questioned.

"We'll do it tomorrow if you want, or whenever you feel ready, Y/N. I'll be by your side, always", he smiled kissing your lips lovingly.

"I don't have any paddock wag outfits with me", you giggled, "have to make a good impression".

"Please, you could go in these pyjamas and you'd still be the prettiest woman there", he pulled you to sit on his lap as you finished your dinner.

The next morning, people couldn't believe their eyes as Max walked hand in hand with a young woman, the pair of them talking about something between them as they giggled.

A few were unsure of it was really you while others asked their colleagues to please repeat your name, googling you quickly and finding out your achievements.

Soon enough, pictures flowed social media with the paddock's new power couple, gossip Instagram pages having a field day and it wasn't even lunch time.

"This is news", Daniel said as he spotted Max. He had been one of the few people outside of the team who knew about you two, you having made him swear that he would never tell anyone, and if by chance he did let something slip, you trusted him to make a joke out of it and for people to assume he was just teasing Max indeed.

"You won't have to keep it to yourself anymore, Danny", you said as you hugged his side quickly.

"That's good, actually, I think that's what has been keeping me from being focused in racing, it's a real relief, Y/N", he stated and for two seconds, you felt bad for putting such pressure on him, "I'm just kidding! C'mon, you know what I'm like", he gave you a big smile, "now, I have to go, will pop by to see you though!", Daniel said as he waved while he carried on to his team's garage.

Your interactions with Daniel and the team spurred curiosity as the media started thinking and hypothesizing that maybe your relationship was as new as they thought it was. As it turns out, once again, Max Verstappen knew how to keep private aspects away from the media.

For now, they would try to dig more and find out how the Olympic medalist swimmer stole the heart of the Formula One driver.

[matchavellichor]

If you’re still taking requests then I have one 😊

Could you please write a scenario where Sebastian goes home for the Christmas holiday to make amends with Anne and Solomon (before shit happens) and he leaves Ominis and Female MC alone. They finally get to spend time alone together for once and find they have a lot more in common than rheu previously thought (they go on walks, study in the library, hang out in the undercroft) and Ominis who already had a secret little crush on her but always thought that Sebastian kinda had a claim on her, starts falling very hard and he finally decides to do something about it. Maybe they’re hanging out in the undercroft one night and he spontaneously kisses her. I would adore if you could take this into NSFW territory, I’d love the awkward yet sensual first-time sex between them if you could (and as much as I love him, please no Dominis, I want the sweet boy we meet in the game) ♥️

A.N: Thank you for this request! I absolutely adored writing this, so precious 🥹 I hope you enjoy! Also thank you to everyone else who sent a request, I'm trying to get through all of them now that I'm on break and have more time 🫶

You Drew Stars

f!MC x Ominis Gaunt - NSFW/Fluff - 5.6k words

Summary: After Sebastian leaves the castle to spend winter break in Feldcroft, Ominis' sentiments for his friend slowly begin to stretch past the bounds of what's platonically appropriate...

Tags: "Un"requited Love, Pining, Miscommunication, Loss of Virginity, First-Times, Friends to Lovers, Supportive Friend Sebastian Sallow

The library was empty as Ominis meandered his way through towards the back shelves, most of the other students having gone home for winter break. To his satisfaction, the few who had stayed didn’t share any habits of curling up with a book an hour before curfew. 

He made his way to the old, royal purple chaise that he usually sat in towards the back corner of the establishment, tucked just behind a shelf on holistic gardening that no one ever frequented. He stilled when he noticed someone already there, the quiet sound of pages turning alerting him of their presence.

“Hey, Ominis,” She glanced up when she heard him approach and eyed the book in his hand curiously. “Some light reading before bed?��� 

“Oh, it’s you,” He scratched the back of his neck. “I was, but I think I’ll just head back to—”

“Don’t be silly,” She tucked herself towards one side of the lounge and patted the seat directly beside her. “Come on, there’s plenty of room.”

“It’s fine, really, you were here first—”

She sighed. “Will you just sit down?”

He shifted nervously in his place for a moment before finally coming to some decision and making his way towards her to take a seat. The chaise sat two people comfortably, albeit a bit cramped, their arms brushing every time either of them turned a page. 

She didn’t seem to mind. Unfortunately, he didn’t possess the same level of indifference, a faint flush of pink creeping up his neck from beneath his white Oxford when she crossed her legs and her thighs brushed against his.

After finishing up her chapter, she reached over to tilt the front cover of his book towards her, her curiosity getting the best of her. She was awfully forward, if not borderline rude. He tried to disguise the fact he liked it.

“Brontë?” Her eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Developed a rebellious streak, have you, Ominis?”

“Something like that,” He mused. “Though, I suppose there are better ways to defy my parents.”

“Oh, certainly. If you spent more time with me you’d have a plethora of creative ideas by now,” She grinned. “Not that sneaking around reading Muggle literature isn’t an admirable offense, of course.”

He breathed out a laugh. “You make an enticing offer, I have to admit.”

“What can I say, I’m enticing.”

Overwhelmingly, he thought.

He accompanied her to her dorm room afterwards and tried to wipe the stupid, dreadful smile on his face the entire walk back to his own.

They fell into a simple sort of routine. 

Even though they had already fit into some category of the word friends, it had never been in the same way that she was with Sebastian. The more he got to know her, the more he wondered why he hadn’t done so sooner. She was absolutely brilliant.

He quickly learned she was just as much of a night owl as he was, often walking into the common room to find her already curled up on one of the wingback chairs in front of the fireplace, waiting for him.

She’d lay out a rotating selection of Muggle literature and make him pick one for her to read to him, even if he insisted he could just cast a simple dictation spell or transfigure a copy in braille.

He quickly found his particular favorite was Jane Austen, to which she teased him relentlessly for being a bleeding heart romantic. Gods, she had no idea. 

She introduced him to Mary Shelley, which he enjoyed just as much, although he posited he’d grow to appreciate just about anything as long as it was her reading it to him.

It was over steaming cups of earl gray in the common room and midday walks through the snow-crested forest that his inkling of a crush morphed into something else. Something more.

Feelings, he recognized rather ruefully, one late evening after she’d fallen asleep with her head pillowed on his lap in the common room. 

Twisty, hot, almost nausea-inducing feelings. Overwhelming and nerve-wracking, but at the same time so unbelievably good, and warm, and sweet, because how could he feel anything else with her except pleasantries? 

They were the kind where he found he wanted to do nothing more but stay in the private, simple routine they’d created for themselves, just the two of them. Wanted to keep living in the daydream he’d invented about their relationship, where sometimes she’d hug him goodnight a little too tightly, or sit a little too close, and it’d almost feel like she cared for him the same way he cared for her. Almost.

He ignored the guilty, nagging sensation in his gut about her relationship with Sebastian, and decided he’d let his delusions take him through the remainder of their holiday together. 

//

Stretched out on the plush rug in front of the common room fireplace, he wrapped a hand around her ankle when she went to nudge him with a stockinged foot for the thirtieth time in the last five minutes.

“Quit it,” He didn’t glance up from where his fingers were combing over the braille in his open textbook. “You’re distracting me.”

“You’re not even studying anymore,” She wriggled her foot out of his hold and poked his thigh again in defiance. “You’re a terrible fake-reader, you know. You don’t even make your eyes move across the lines.”

“Hilarious,” He rolled his eyes, finally closing the book on his lap. “And maybe I’ve stopped studying because someone has been prodding me incessantly for the past half-hour.”

“My mental capacity has reached its limit for the night. And I’m starved,” She picked herself up from the floor, rolling her shoulders back in a stretch, before holding a hand out for him to take. “Come on, up. Let’s get something to eat.”

He waved his wand over his wristwatch. “It’s nearly one in the morning, where on earth are we going to get something to eat?” 

Her lips curled into a smirk as she helped him to his feet. “I have my ways.”

He sighed a defeated breath as he let her tug him along. “Yes, I’m aware. I’m afraid that’s precisely my concern.”

//

“Gods, we’re going to be given twin concussions by a kitchen elf any second now. I hear Tilly’s got a particularly strong arm.” The glowing tip of Ominis’ wand cast the dark surroundings of the Hogwarts kitchens in a red hue. “Keep an eye out for any hurtling rolling pins, will you?”

“Will you stop worrying? It’s fine.” She huffed, sticking her head into one of the pantries of the kitchens before popping out a few moments later. “Apple or blueberry?”

“Both?”

She grinned, slipping back inside. “This is why we’re friends.”

“We’re friends? This is news to me.” 

She narrowed her eyes at where he was poised at the doorway. “Keep talking like that and we’ll be enemies soon enough.”

“My biggest nightmare,” He teased. “I certainly would not want to get on your bad side.”

He followed her as she slipped past him out of the pantry with two magically-steaming pies in hand, making her way towards the exit of the kitchens. 

“You’re certainly a lot smarter than Sebastian, then,” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You know what’s good for you.” 

You’re good for me, he thought.

“Call it self-preservation.”

//

“How about dinner with a view?” She stopped at the bottom stairwell of the Astronomy tower, only pale moonlight and the dim, orange glow of the scattered wall sconces to illuminate the barren hallways they’d been treading through.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t really make a difference to me, all of my dinners are without a view.”

“Oh, look who’s all clever all of a sudden.” She rolled her eyes.

He grinned. “I’ve always been clever. Do keep up.”

She balanced the pie in her hands in one arm and took his hand with the other, beginning the long, meandering ascent to the upper tower platform.

Her fingers laced so nicely with his, as if they’d been carved to mold perfectly with his own. Smaller than his, but warm, and familiar. He reveled in the privilege of getting to touch her so freely, conscious of the fact this comfortableness would most likely end as soon as Sebastian was back from Feldcroft.

They sat cross-legged with their arms draped over the metal railing, tucking into their pies and trading spoonfuls of rich, syrupy goodness. It wasn’t as cold as a normal December night, but he cast periodic warming charms over them anyways and transfigured his jumper into a blanket that turned out only marginally big enough for the both of them.

They ate in comfortable, companionable silence and all that he could think about is how he wished he could do this always. In the summer, in the spring, in the fall. That this wasn’t something temporary, something that would be robbed from him in a few short weeks.

“Didn’t realize you were such a messy eater, Ominis.” She glanced up at him, an amused smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Where’s all that pureblood dining etiquette gone to?” 

He rolled his eyes and went to feel around for a napkin, but she leaned forward instead. He sucked in a sharp breath as she braced a hand on his thigh and swiped her thumb over the side of his mouth, collecting remnants of blueberry jam, brushing over his bottom lip in a moment that seemed to stretch for an eternity, though in reality was brief and fleeting. 

She sat back down in her seat, unphased, and popped the digit in her mouth, bottom teeth scraping over the pad of her thumb, sugar melting on her tongue. 

His mouth felt terribly dry.

He swallowed down the sensation of longing with a spoonful of apple filling and flaky, golden crust.

Bellies full with ungodly amounts of pie, they laid beside each other on the too-small blanket, and Ominis tried to ignore the too-loud sound of his blood rushing in his ears, paired with the too-fast beating of his heart in his chest, and attempted to simply relax. 

He closed his eyes and focused on something other than the consuming feeling of want prickling over his skin, setting his nerve-endings alight with the desire to touch and hold and caress. She wasn’t his to do any of those things with. 

He focused on her soft, steady breathing. The rise and fall of her chest beside his. 

“Merlin, it’s beautiful.” She murmured, a dazed quality to her voice.

“I’m sure it is.” He replied just as listless, though undoubtedly for other reasons.

She turned her head to face him. “Want me to describe it to you?” 

He turned to face her as well and he was suddenly acutely aware of the feeling of her breath ghosting his cheek. She was so close. His voice was quiet. “Would you?”

She nodded. “Alright, close your eyes.” 

He bit back a smile. “You’re such an idiot.” 

She grinned. “Shut up and do it.” 

He obliged with a disgruntled huff. Pleased, she turned back towards the scenery. 

“It’s a full moon tonight, so everything has this almost…silver glow. Like the whole world’s been dipped in platinum.” She began. 

He tried to picture it in his head, sheens of pale white cast over rolling hills and thick forest.

“You can see the entire lake from up here, never-ending and inky black, and juuust there, past the border of the forest—” She outstretched a hand. “—is Hogsmeade, with its little orange lights.”

She glanced sideways at him to see his eyes still closed, the softest smile brushing his lips. 

She continued, “What’s really pretty though, is the stars. Too many to ever count. Enough to make your head dizzy, really.” She let out a laugh and he decided it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. 

“Some are brighter than others, and you can make out little pictures in the night sky. Tonight, there’s Orion looking down on us,” She tilted her head, brows knitting together as she took a moment to study him. “Actually…”

He let out a startled breath when he felt her fingertips make contact with his cheek, dragging over his skin in feather-light touches, tracing the small smattering of beauty marks there.

“You bear a remarking similarity,” She ran her index softly between the points, connecting little invisible lines. “Right here.” 

He swallowed hard. “Do I?”

“Mhm,” She hummed. “It’s awfully pretty.”

She hadn’t pulled her hand back. His skin buzzed with the sensation, because her fingertips were still there, on his cheek, touching him with a softness that he had never known before in his life, with a kindness that he was so unaccustomed to.

Gentle, repetitive drags, skin-on-skin, that same prickling sensation of want having grown into something almost painful inside of him. Bubbling and overwhelming, just underneath his flesh, his fingers twitching with the desire to reach out and feel.

He was conscious of how stupid it was, mind-numbingly so, but he couldn’t bear the aching tension in his chest any longer, and he knew of only one way to acquiesce his restless heart.

He cupped her own cheek in his hand, dipped his chin forward, and captured her lips in his.

Her fingers froze against his cheek, and he could feel the slight surprise in her body language, before it quickly morphed into something else, something accepting, something satisfied. As if she’d been longing just as desperately, had been waiting for this the same way he’d been.

Her hand dragged down to thread through the fine, blonde hairs at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer to her, eliciting a sharp intake of air through his nose, settling all kinds of feelings deep behind his navel.

She parted her lips for him and he chased the syrupy taste of sugar on her tongue like he needed it to live, swallowed her quiet, breathy pants like mouthfuls of honey, sticky and saccharine and so overwhelmingly her he could drown in it. 

She was so sweet, so soft, and far, far too perfect for his fantasies to have ever possibly done her justice.

When she finally broke away, he could feel her drowsy, sapless smile against his lips. He smiled back, just as giddy, an absolute fool, surely, but in the moment he couldn’t care less. He resisted the urge to dive back in. To run his tongue over her teeth and plead for more, because he knew he would most likely never get enough. 

He was content then, just holding her. She tucked herself into his side, pillowed her head on his chest, and let him run his hands up and down her back. Let him bury his nose in the crown of her hair and revel in the feeling of having her there, feeling too much like his.

//

After that, their routine shifted into something else. Something unspoken, that didn’t really need any labels or clarifications, because it all fell into place like pieces of a puzzle. Normal and simple and easy and natural.

Because, of course he got to kiss her goodnight when he left her at her dorm room every evening. And it was only obvious that they’d lace their fingers together on their Sunday trips to Hogsmeade for a butterbeer, and sit on the same side of the booth instead of opposite each other like before. And why would she not drape her legs over his lap on that purple chaise in the library, or tuck herself into his side on that dusty, old loveseat in the Undercroft?

He wasn’t sure what he’d done to ever get so lucky, but he thanked Fortune herself every night he got to collect her in his arms and press lingering kisses to her forehead. It was an intoxicating feeling to have everything he wanted right there in his hands, soft and pliable and willing, so perfectly receptive to his touch, so eager to reciprocate with the same amount of fevered passion and affection.

Of course, there were levels of uncertainties to their relationship still. Questions he couldn’t bring himself to ask, out of fear of ruining everything. What are we and and for the love of Circe, tell me this means something to you, too poised on the tip of his tongue everytime she wrapped herself around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

There were boundaries, admittedly maybe only fictitious ones his own anxious brain fabricated, but ones nonetheless. He’d always ask her first before he kissed her, and she’d always respond with eager nods, blissful smiles, and her fingers curling into the front of his shirt to tug his mouth down to hers.

He adored kissing her.  Maybe a bit too much. Alright, maybe alarmingly too much.

He’d spend eternity with his mouth on hers if he could, and it still wouldn’t be enough. He constantly craved the numb, bruised feeling of his lips after a particularly long makeout session. He couldn’t get enough of touching her, of being so intimate with her, of the soft and sweet and spit-sticky brushes of her tongue against his, of that aching, heated swirl he got just behind his navel. 

She was bliss personified. 

Crossing a leg over the other on that worn, tawny loveseat in the Undercroft, he skimmed through the pages of the paperback in his hand with his wand. A few feet away from him, she was reducing a couple training dummies into splinters of charred wood, spell after spell rolling off her tongue with ease. 

His headstrong little witch. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips at how powerful she was, admiration swelling in his chest.

After getting her fix of dueling for the day and craving attention, she made her way over to him, sitting beside him, although more accurately, practically sitting on top of him. Not that he minded.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she looked up at him expectantly, and because he’d give her absolutely anything her little heart desired, he tucked his book away immediately and turned his focus towards her, pecking a kiss to her cheek. She smiled in satisfaction. 

He had the tiniest inkling of a feeling that maybe he was spoiling her rotten. Not that he minded that, either. 

“Tired?” 

She shook her head. “Just missed you.”

He brushed the back of his knuckles against her cheek and couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his mouth. “Did you now?”

She nodded, staring down at his lips as she leaned in to press her mouth against his. Simple and natural and easy. It was a wonder how normal it seemed, as if it was something they’d always done. 

Her tongue brushed against his bottom lip, pleading for entrance, and of course he obliged, because who was he to deny her anything?

He could feel the little exhale of breath against his cheek as his tongue met hers, feel the way she instinctively pressed more against him as if she wanted to mold herself to his very bones.

He loved having her like this. 

Eager and passion-filled, her magic thrumming in her veins with a little added intensity, reflected in the way she kissed him, in the way she touched him. 

She broke away for air, but he couldn’t help the desire to have more. He trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses over her jaw, down the length of her neck. He’d never kissed her there and he found himself particularly interested in exploring. She positively melted under his ministrations.

“Ominis,” She sighed his name on a breathy pant and the sound coursed straight to his groin, tugging at that aching desire in his gut, that heated, twisty, starved feeling that was always there when he touched her, lingering someone hidden, nursing it into something insatiable. 

She reconnected her mouth to his and stoked that flickering flame inside him until it was red-hot and all-consuming. 

He tangled his fingers through her hair and explored her mouth with a deliberate slowness. Languid, syrupy drags of his tongue against hers. Hot, needy breaths shared in a space between them that was far too little and far too much at the same time. 

A gasp died on his tongue when she shifted in her seat to press herself even more against him, effectively straddling his lap, impatience dripping down her spine. He went rigid.

“Hold on, don’t—” His fingers dug into her waist to still her, but she had already dragged her hips flush against his, right against that aching stiffness in his trousers. His face blanched, mortified. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

She held her bottom lip between her teeth, processing the feeling of him, a very specific part of him, pressed right to the gusset of her knickers, right under her skirt. It was like someone had stricken a match, lit her nerves on fire.

She shook her head, her cheeks hot. “Don’t apologize,” She smoothed her thumb over his cheek, reassuring. “I want you, too. I want this.” She shifted minutely, tentative, right against that throbbing part of him.

His brows knit together, looking almost pained. “Gods, you can’t say things like that.” 

“It’s true,” She whispered, shifting against him again, deliciously slow. The slightest roll of her hips. It was enough to ruin him completely. “Please, Ominis.”

He nodded then, forehead pressed against hers, fists white-knuckled in the starched linen of her shirt. He let his hands fall to his sides, onto the tattered pillows of the loveseat and sighed. 

“Not here.” He planted a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “You deserve something nicer.”

//

Ominis’ dorm was certainly nicer.

Clean and tidy to the point of almost being manic, just as she imagined it would be. She glanced over at the surrounding beds and noticed his side strikingly bare in comparison, devoid of the clutter of Quidditch posters, junk and other memorabilia that you would normally expect to find in a teenage boy’s room. 

His sheets were crisp and neatly-pressed, and laid back against his pillows, she could pick up the faint smell of vanilla and bergamot and, most strikingly, him.

He hovered over her there, his hands on either side of her head on the pillowcase, a pink flush dusting his cheekbones, uncertain. She found it awfully endearing. 

“Have you ever…?”

He shook his head, sheepish. “No.” 

She nodded. 

A gnawing feeling clawed itself inside his chest, something marred and ugly and possessive, a jealousy he knew he probably had no right to feel. “Have…you?”

She shook her head. “Never.”

His brows furrowed, confusion and surprise and a faint sense of relief etched into his features. “Really? You and Sebastian never…?”

She sputtered. “Me and Sebastian?”

“Er…yes? I assumed you two had already been—”

“Dear gods, no,” She laughed, as if the mere notion were hysterical. She looked at him bewildered. “Where on earth did you ever get that impression?” 

“I don’t know, you’re both always spending so much time together.” 

“As friends.” She choked. “If I’m being completely honest, I’ve always harbored a bit of a crush on you.” 

It was his turn to sputter. “On me?”

She smiled. “Yes, it’s a bit embarrassing, actually. I’m surprised Sebastian’s never told you. He’s tormented me about it since the moment he found out.” 

Ominis winced and let his head fall forward, voice muffled in the collar of her shirt. “Gods, I’ve been such an idiot.” 

“Well, that’s only natural,” She teased, raking her nails softly through the hair on his nape. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.” 

He picked his head up. “So, I…we could’ve been doing this, so much sooner?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Been wanting to get into my pants for very long, have you, Ominis?”

He groaned. “That’s not what I meant,” She watched as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, embarrassment tinging his cheeks. “I’ve liked you for quite a while.”

“Have you?” She grinned. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” He murmured. “A bit of pining was good for me. Humbling.” 

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Yes, I’m sure you’re not very used to not getting what you want, hm?”

“Mmh,” He hummed, non-committal, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Terribly spoiled, I’m afraid.”

“I won’t hold that against you, either.”

She laced her fingers behind his neck, tugging him forward to bring his lips down to hers again. Ominis could barely contain the euphoric feeling of relief in his chest, of completion, of blissful satisfaction in knowing the witch underneath him was his and only his. 

He let his hands wander, explore, caress, tugging her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt and running his hands over the creamy smooth expanse of her stomach. He let his lips roam with just as much fervor, trailing down the length of her neck, scraping biting kisses over her collarbone, over the soft curves of her jaw.

“Take this off me,” She pleaded in between kisses, breathless, and he would be a fool if he didn’t immediately oblige. Slender, deft fingers turned clumsy and unpracticed in the heat of the moment, fumbling over buttons and the zipper of her skirt with a lot more lack of finesse than he was used to doing most things in life. His heart was pounding too loud in his ears for him to care. 

If she was anything she was impatient, and he quickly learned this impatience would be the very bane of his existence, as she proceeded to grind her hips up to meet his every time he tried to pause and regain some level of composure. 

She seemed to take a form of sick gratification in the way he’d curse under his breath at the feeling of the soaked fabric of her knickers, rubbing back and forth against that stiff, aching part of him, nearly bringing him to completion.

He crawled down her body before she could torture him any longer, hooking his fingers into the hem of her knickers and tugging it down to pool at her ankles. He left a trail of wet, open-mouth kisses in his descent, dragging his tongue down the line of her sternum, slow and deliberate. 

She tensed. “You don’t have to—”

“Please,” He nosed at the soft curve of her stomach, his breath warm against her skin, eyes half-lidded behind blonde eyelashes. “I want to. Please let me.”

Her voice was quiet, anticipated. “Okay.”

It was all he needed to kiss her there, lips pressed to her dripping core, sucking just slightly, tentatively, just enough to make her gasp. His tongue was velvety smooth, purposefully slow, as if savoring it, savoring her.

“Tastes good,” He murmured against her cunt in a hum, lips sticky and glistening, voice hoarse and gravely with want. “Tastes s’good. Mmh.”

She couldn’t stifle her moans as he lapped at her firmer then, more focused, dragged the tip of his tongue and swirled it around that sensitive little bundle of nerves he had already deduced made her hips writhe and her hands tangle in his hair, pulling, pleading.

He didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but Ominis prided himself on being a very intuitive learner — and there was no better lesson than her nails raking over his scalp and her mewls muffled against the back of her hand every time he evidently did something  right with his tongue. In this more than anything, he was determined to get all O’s. 

“Oh, gods, Ominis,” She breathed out, and that was all it took for him to break, for him to push two fingers inside her cunt, wrap his lips around her clit, and suck. Hard, until her toes curled at either side of his hips on the bedding, and her head was thrown back onto the pillows, and she was repeating please, please, please like a prayer — as if she’d ever have to beg him for anything.

He pulled her over the edge with a groan against her cunt, fingers pressing into that little spot on her walls that made her vision white over with stars, melting her muscles into a puddle of ecstasy. Coaxed her through it, lapping at the wetness until she was reduced to shudders and breathy, shaky pants.

“You’re so beautiful,” He climbed over her, chest heaving, pressing kisses to her cheeks. He rambled praises, utterly sapless, euphoric, and if she didn’t know any better she’d think he was coming down from the high of his own orgasm with how giddy he sounded. “Oh my gods, you’re so unbelievably perfect. Sounded so good — tasted so good, fuck. You’re just—”

She kissed him then, not minding that she could taste herself on his tongue. Slow and sweet, her head dizzy with endorphins. He liked her like this.

Reaching down between them, she ran her hand down the placket of his briefs, palmed the evidence of his arousal, reveled in the way his lips faltered against hers. She dipped her fingers past the elastic of his waistband, and the whimper he let out when she finally wrapped her hand around him was nothing short of depraved.

“Want to be inside of you,” He pleaded, his hips rutting of their own accord against her palm, warm and slick with desire, a sticky bead of pre-cum pooling at the tip. He felt so thick in her hand. “Please, want— want it so bad.”

He couldn’t bear the restriction any longer, tugging his shorts down his thighs, exposing alabaster skin and flushed pink and so much of him she couldn’t pull her eyes away.

He notched himself at her entrance, lips hovering over hers, asking for permission without words, and all she could do was fervently nod to keep herself from begging.

He laced his fingers with hers as he slowly pushed in, gasps shared between their lips, foreheads pressed together. She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him closer, urging him for more.

His voice was wrecked when he spoke. “Is this — am I hurting you? Is this alright?”

She shook her head. “You’re perfect —you feel so perfect.”

He groaned, surging forward to capture her lips in his, pouring every ounce of devotion and adoration into the way his tongue brushed against hers, as he slowly rocked his hips, in and out, cautious, shallow thrusts. 

“Please, more,” She whispered, quiet, needy, and he couldn’t help but oblige. He bottomed out inside of her, his head falling to her shoulder, and eased his hips back to meet hers with a sharp thrust. 

She was overwhelmed by the novel and absolutely foreign feeling of being so full. That dull sting where he was stretching her out around him, that pleasurable ache where he was pressing up into her walls — it was all revoltingly delicious. She never wanted it to stop. 

“Christ, you’re — fuck,”  Her fingers wrapped around his bicep for support, nails digging little crescent-shaped marks into his skin. “You’re so deep—oh my gods, please move, please, please move,”

He was half-convinced he’d cut out his own beating heart in that moment and present it to her if she asked. He braced himself with his fingers splayed warm and broad on her hip, holding maybe a bit too tightly, and fucked into her with steady, deep thrusts, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“Yes, yes, yes,” She gasped, his cock pressing deep into that sensitive spot inside of her. She could feel that winding knot behind her navel being pulled taut,  being stretched tighter and tighter until she felt like she might break. “Like that, just like that — fuck, please don’t stop, please don’t stop,” 

Ominis had by no means a dirty mouth, was never, ever crass by an definition of the word, but hearing her pleading in his ear, feeling her squeeze so tightly around him, slick and warm and utterly divine — he couldn’t stop the endless litany spilling from his mouth, delirious from how good she felt as he thrust into her thoroughly, his self-restraint slipping out of him like grains of sand through open fingers.

“You’re so perfect. My angel, oh my gods, all mine. Mine, mine, mine. Gorgeous, so gorgeous, you’re so tight, so tight around me. Fuck, I can’t stop, I can’t — I need —I need you, I love this, I love this so much, fuck, fuck, fuck, I love this, I love—”

His words died on a strangled moan as he finished inside of her, pumping into her until he pulled her over the edge along with him, electrifying her nerve-endings into bliss. He pressed his lips to hers like he needed her to breathe, like the only oxygen he desired was the ones she would give him from her very own lungs.

She spoke first, dazed. “That was—”

He let out a laugh, soft and pleasure-rough, the slightest bit drowsy. “Amazing. Brilliant. You’re absolutely brilliant.” 

She returned his gleaming smile with her own, teasing.

“You’ve only just noticed?”

//

It took one look. The raucous bustle of other students still disembarking around him, yet his attention was trained on his two friends smiling and waiting up for him. 

His eyes darted between the two, briefly combing over the faint bites of purple on her neck that was peeking out just slightly from beneath the green and silver of her scarf, then finally dipped to where their hands were surreptitiously clasped behind layers of cloaks, and he immediately knew.

Sebastian dropped his suitcase on the weathered boards of the dock with a thunk and ran up to clap his hands on his friends’ shoulders with a sly smile and a satisfied glint in his eyes.

“Fucking took you two long enough.”

[writervaul-t]

something about you

chapter three: friends?

summary: the start of fake dating is going well but [name] thinks they should go further.

pairing: modern!benjicot blackwood x f!reader

note: definitely filler chapter vibes but this is important to the plot i promise babes 🤞😫

masterlist | playlist

If looks could kill, [Name] would surely be dead. Since her lecture started 2 hours ago, she could feel someone staring at her. She did her best to figure out who it could have been but the lecture hall stretched too far to the point that people on the other side were essentially too small for her to see if they were even looking across the way.

She should have gotten used to this by now but she still wasn't. It had been days since her and Benji started "dating" and going out in front of the public. They had developed a routine; he would pick her up after work and her night lectures since he didn't have class around those times and take her to wherever she needed to be for that day and then walked off.

It seemed to have been fooling everyone. From the amount of people that would come up to her and pester her about what they were and how they even got together ("Do you think they'd buy into the idea you asked me out at the store?"/"Definitely."), they had managed to get everyone to think they were an item. Regardless, the treatment of being near invisible to being known by name had made her a little unnerved.

She did her best to seem unbothered by the newfound attention, the boring drolls from her Research Methods professor an open distraction. She focused on the class, making sure to note what confused her and that she had to review after she gets home today.

When the class had finally finished, [Name] had walked texted Benji quickly that she would take longer to go out before walking down to talk briefly about an assignment with the professor. It was a simple question but per usual, it had almost turned into a mini lecture where he had to explain his answer from the beginning. She could have fallen sleep there, had she not heard someone call Benji's name.

She glanced back, spotting Benji waiting from inside the classroom. He stood by the door with a crowd of people, talking animatedly. He must have made a joke when some people had laughed so loud, it echoed through the chamber. An easy going smile was on his face, though [Name] can tell it was more practiced than anything.

He looked down to where [Name] stood with the professor. An amused look crossed his face as he spotted the professor before pointing at the seat closest to him and waving to the crowd as they left before going on his phone. [Name] continued to nod along with the professor before finally feeling relief when he ended the conversation.

She had practically ran up the stairs, meeting Benji's gaze and smacking his shoulder lightly as they walked out. "Don't laugh."

"Why? Its funny watching someone practically nap standing up." Benji says, grabbing her bag off her shoulder. He looked ridiculous; the pinkand cream backpack contrasting greatly against his dark attire. [Name] had told him multiple times he didn't have to grab it from her, but Benji insisted.

"I'd do it for my real girlfriend so I'll do it for you." He argued again and again.

"Professor Dondarrion is such a bore." [Name] grumbles as they make their way outside. "All I asked was how to run a function on the system and he went all the went on and on about something else!"

"Yeah, that's why you get rid of Research Methods during your first year," Benji advises, grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together. She could feel the cold metal of his bracelet pressing against her skin as they walked. "Professor Martell is only available to first and final years here but makes the class interesting. Not to mention she's hot--"

"Nice way to remind me you're still just a man." [Name] countered, though she was more amused than anything else. Most of their walks together always consisted of Benji cracking some kind of crude joke that made [Name] cringe or laugh before they would run out of things to say and walk in silence together.

The first few days were nearly unbearable; the awkward silence and the fear of saying something offputting was enough to keep [Name] from doing or saying anything too damaging. Benji had been the first to break the tension when he had slipped on the wet pavement by her apartment. She wasn't sure she had laughed as hard as she did that day.

Still, some things felt missing but she hadn't had the chance to bring it up or was even sure if she wanted to bring it up. She was definitely sure Benji knew too; after all, he was a lot more perceptive than he led himself to be. Maybe he didn't know how to bring it up either. Regardless, if they felt something was off, they need to address it before it goes too far.

She tugged Benji's hand when they reached the crosswalk, directing themselves to the opposite way of either of their apartments. "Let's go somewhere before we head home." She only offers up. Benji goes along with it, letting her lead him to one of the overnight diners, King's Harbor.

Benji eyed the restaurant suspiciously. "Don't loonies only come in here?"

"Yes, you're looking at one right now." [Name] jokes quietly as she pulls him in. The diner was small, the inside seemingly taking them back into the 60s with the signature red and white leather chairs and a jukebox that hadn't worked in ages. Old posters of movies [Name] couldn't recognize besides Rosemary's Baby hung around in places where LED lights weren't swirling about along the walls.

"What a sight to see!" Yelena Hull calls out from behind the counter. "You're usually here past midnight, dove."

[Name] smiled. "Ah, well, I wanted to take my - ah..." She glanced at Benji sheepishly. "Benji to the diner."

"I'm her boyfriend." Benji states matter of factly, earning an elbow to the stomach by [Name]. He gave her an innocent look. "What? I am."

Yelena looks over at Benji, a smile breaking out of her face before turning to [Name]. "Well, lets get you and your Benji a seat!" She ushered the two to a corner table, just below the Rosemary's Baby movie poster. "Your favorite seat. And first good luck!"

Yelena sent a wink toward [Name], who covered her face in embarrassment as she walked away. "You'll have to excuse Yelena; I'm probably one of the only ones at the diner that doesn't disrupt her graveyard shifts."

"Why do you come here past midnight?" Benji asks.

[Name] motioned to her backpack. "To study. I can't really focus if my bed is a couple of feet away, you know?"

Benji gives [Name] a long look for a moment. "Do you just... Study and work?"

"Most times," [Name] admits. "But that's not why I brought you here. I know this little... Agreement we made is a little strange and we definitely didn't really start off on any proper footing so I guess I just wanted to, I don't know--?"

"Get to know each other more?" Benji suggests, making [Name] nod.

"Yeah - nothing too deep. Just simple stuff like favorite color but I think that's kind of obvious." She eyes his dark blue linen shirt and black pants before darting to her clothes - from her pink sweater to pink ribbons pinning some of her hair away. "But you know what I mean - we get to at least talk about something while we pretend to date."

"You're not wrong. Though not sure I want to hear about what you learned in class today." Benji says.

"I don't talk about class every day!" [Name] says back, throwing a balled up piece of straw cover between his brows.

Benji huffs, "Ha! Liar. You always talk about classes with me whenever I take you home. I swear, I know about your information science classes more than my own business classes."

"Because I had nothing else to talk about." [Name] counters. "Which is why--"

"We're here. I get it. But I still doubt you do anything fun."

The notion made [Name] glare at Benji, who only offered a smirk in response. When he'd gotten comfortable enough with her, he had ended up some weird mix of the Benji's she's seen: friendly and a provoker if he was in the mood.

[Name] rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know that I don't just study. I have actual hobbies."

Benji leaned into the table, a grin on his face. "Yeah? Like what?"

"I collect Peach Riots when I get the chance, go to the Kingsroad Market every Saturday and find a new recipe to eat while I watch horror movies--"

"Horror movies, huh?" Benji asks, glancing at the poster beside them. "And does that involve anyone?"

Chiara had only ever watched with [Name] if she was worn down long enough by the latter. It had taken her nearly a month and a promise to take the trash out that same month to convince her roommate to watch the Halloween series.

"Usually just me if Chiara can't or won't do that with me." She answers truthfully. "Your turn."

"I like hanging out with my friends." Benji starts, pausing a moment to think. "We go the bars and clubs around here often and sometimes go on weekends trips. Most times, though, we go to the beach just a couple miles from campus and have a campfire. Its only a couple of us but they make it really fun."

He seemed content when he spoke about his friends. Chiara hadn't been joking when she mentioned only sticking to a few people. [Name] wasn't even sure she saw him with them when they were just walking around campus, save for the Tully brothers who always made sure to make their friendship with Benji be known.

It made her wonder what it would be like to have a friend besides Chiara. [Name]'s first year had consisted of her constantly working shifts if it wasn't during the days she was on campus. Not to mention, CIC's small and elite population had her at a disadvantage since cliques and friend groups were already formed.

"Sounds nice." [Name] says to him, glad he was receptive to her impromptu change in their routine. Faintly, she checked the watch on her phone. "Am I holding you back, by the way?"

Benji shakes his head. "Nah. I got nothing tonight. Now, about those horror movies: what's your thoughts on that Texas Chainsaw Massacre remake?"

"Oh my god, do you have all night?"

The rest of the evening had been just that; movie hot takes and soon figuring out that both of them having an affinity for spicy food, even if Benji's mouth is burning a thousand degrees. By the time they had left the diner, they both had nearly everything to say and the walk felt shorter for [Name], which disappointed her greatly since they had gotten into the topic of Aeron Bracken's unusually inflated ego and how Benji went by his middle name "Davos" during Year 5 to 7 before dropping it because too many people were confused if Benjicot and Davos were the same people or not.

The night ended on a good note. [Name] had been more than eager to see Benji again soon instead of dreading trying to figure out what to say to him during their walks. Momentarily, she reminded herself about their agreed conditions and Benji's question from when they first spoke.

"We can't even be friends?"

Had they become friends? [Name] wonders to herself as she settled into bed that same night. For a moment she wants to push against it; making new friends outside of high school was tricky. Regardless, she felt a sense of calm and ease around him that she hadn't felt with many people here.

She pushes the panicked thought back as she closes her eyes, wondering just how interesting the next coming weeks will be now that Benjicot Blackwood seemingly found a way into her mundane routine.

taglist

@not-a-glad-gladiator @opheliaas-stuff @sahvlren @nikki-is-a-nerd @weird-things-i-think-about @cxcilla @anakilusmos @haydee5010 @waystarkia @newestobsessionishere @herejhsttostan @hardkiddonut @aisselasstuff @rebeccawinters @aemondsb1tch @radiantdanvers @northofvalyria

[eternalxvenus]

୨⎯ Like a good neighbor, Gojo is there ⎯୧

summary: You've just moved into a fixer-upper in a quaint neighborhood, excited to start building and designing your dream home. Everything's perfect…or would be, if it weren't for that gorgeous but obnoxious Satoru Gojo next door, who you fight with practically every day.

cw: smut 18+, satoru gojo x f!reader, smut, a little fluff, a smidgen of plot if you squint, gojo is annoying, no curses au, gojo is stupidly rich, pet names (baby, sweetheart), oral f!receiving, p in v, light choking, squirting

word count: 1.5k

notes: this is my first time writing smut so pls bear with me… the tile is bc that logo has been stuck in my head all damn day </3, im also debating on making a part 2… and lastly HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!

You woke up to the sound of birds and wind, the sun shining brightly through your uncovered windows. As you stretched your limbs out with a groan trying to fully wake up, you thought about all the things you had to do today.

The clock shown 9:15am. Getting out of bed, the house was warm thanks to the summer morning. After doing your morning routine and eating breakfast you decide that you’re next project for the house will be painting the outside porch railing. You already had the paint, opting for a soft brown color.

Outside the air was warm and almost humid. The half empty coffee cup rested on the small table you had out there. Your clothes were already stained and rugged from previous projects done on the house. You picked up a paintbrush and promptly started on the porch.

About an hour or so later you were still painting, a light sheen in your forehead as you hummed a song stuck in your head. This was the peace you were looking for.

“Heyyy Y/N, how’s your morning going?” You roll your eyes, recognizing the all to chipper voice. Your neighbor Satoru Gojo. He was the most non-peaceful thing about the entire neighborhood. You tried to ignore him, but of course he was already making his way over. “I said good morning, what’s wrong too tired to speak?” he inquired.

A loud huff leaves your mouth. “No Gojo. I just don’t want to speak. To you at least.”

“Ah don’t be like that. I know what’s got you in a sour mood. It’s that ugly paint color isn’t it? Looks like shit— literally.”

“Gojo please do not come over here starting nonsense. It’s a pretty neutral brown. Now go away and leave me be.” You pick up the paint can and move to the next part of the porch. Gojo watches you lazily as you move about. He’s uncharacteristically silent and you almost forget that he’s even there. Glancing up to give him a look that says ‘What?’

With a no good smile on his face he says “Have lunch with me Y/N. Take a break and i’ll make us something good.”

You thought about declining but you were really hungry. As if on command your stomach growled rather loudly. “What’s the catch? You berate all my artistic choices thus far?” you deadpan.

With a hand over his chest in mock offense Gojo replies saying, “I would never!” He starts walking over to his house beckoning you to follow. “C’mon i’ll make us some sandwich wraps.”

You follow Gojo into his house and i soon as you step inside you see the stark contrast the inside has compared to the outside. Everything looks modern and sleek.

Gojo clears his throat before speaking. “Have a seat wherever. I’ll get started on the wraps.” You give a brief nod, walking into his living room to get a closer look at the decor. Fifteen minutes later, Gojo walks in empty handed.

“I put the wraps in the fridge. I usually let them sit in there about 10-15 minutes before eating so they have a better crunch and don’t get as soggy.” He plopped down on the couch stretching out his arms and legs. His eyes kept moving down to your ass as you walked around. “Come sit and let’s talk.”

You sit down next to him, making sure to leave a good amount of space between you both, before he scoots you closer by the hips.

“You know, I’ve never had such a pretty neighbor before…” Gojo’s voice is smooth and filled with seduction. Your heartbeat picks up as he places a hand on your thigh squeezing lightly.

“Gojo… what are you doing?” You ask in a breathy voice. His touch had an effect on you and you hated it. The last thing he needed was an ego boost.

“Oh come on Y/N, why do you think i’m always coming to bother you? I needed an excuse to see your pretty face.” He lowered his head to place light kisses along your jaw and neck. You moved your head to the side to give him better access. It couldn’t hurt to have a little fun…

Gojo moves from your neck and looks into your eyes. You see the dark lustful look in them before he pulls you in for a heated and bruising kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, both of you barely stopping to get any air. You can feel the heat and arousal rushing through your body as he pulls you into his lap. Lifting his hips up slightly you can feel that he’s already hard and definitely not small. You break the kiss to pull off your shirt and Gojo nearly rips off your bra before taking one of your hard nipples into his mouth while working the other between his fingers. “Ah… Gojo-”

“Satoru” he says breathing heavily and looking into your eyes. “Please call me Satoru.”

“Satoru… don’t tease.” you nearly whine.

“Fuck… i need to taste you.” Without missing a beat Gojo lays you down on the couch, making quick work of getting your jeans and panties off. “You’re so wet, this all for me?” his lips formed that cocky smirk. “Shut up and do something.” you say squirming. He grabs your hips to still you then lowers his head to taste your arousal. “You taste better than I could’ve imagined… so fucking sweet.” He goes straight into it, sucking your clit into his mouth and teasing your hole with his tongue like he’s starved. Your hands immediately find purchase in his hair. You tug slightly making Gojo moan which only adds to the knot that’s already forming in your stomach.

You try to lift your hips but he has you in an iron grip. Heavy pants and moans slip past your lips as you feel that familiar sensation or your orgasm. “Ah! Sa-satoru! Fuck i’m gonna cum!” he continues working his tongue on your clit as he inserts two of his long fingers inside of you, curling them to hit that spot that has you seeing stars. Gojo eagerly licks and sucks all that you’re offering as you slowly start to come down from your high. He kisses your thighs and slowly makes his way up to your face. “I could eat you out all day” he breathes out. “But right now I wanna be inside you.”

You watch as he takes off his pants, seeing the wet patch on his boxers from his precum. After removing the rest of his clothing he now rests in between your legs, stroking himself as he rubs his tip against your clit. You buck your hips trying to get more friction but Gojo won’t budge. “Tell me what you want.” he whispers aligning himself with your entrance. “Satoru just fuck me please!” You say impatiently. The only warning you have is Gojo saying “If you say so.” before sliding his cock in until he bottomed out.

He threw his head back with a groan. “Shiiiit baby you’re so fucking tight.” He gave you a moment to adjust then started fucking you at an almost inhuman pace. All you could do was moan not able to form anything coherent. You felt Gojo’s hand come to your neck and squeeze just enough to heighten the force of his thrust. “You take me so well… this slutty pussy just keeps sucking me in.” His free hand slipped down to rub harsh circles on your clit causing you to practically scream. “Satoru! Too much!”

“You can take it baby i’m almost there. I want you to cum for me.”

Gojo keeps up his unrelenting pace and overstimulates your clit. You can feel him throbbing inside of you as his thrusts start to stagger and get sloppy signaling he was close. “Fuck baby I’m gonna cum… gonna cum all over those pretty tits.”

“Please Satoru! Feels so good… fucking cumming ah!” You feel a gush of warm liquid between your legs just as Gojo pulls out whimpering while spilling his cum all over your stomach. “F-fucking shit! Fuck baby…” you both lay there panting as Gojo gives you small feathery kisses. After a minute or two he gets up to grab a towel to clean you up with. He’s back in his boxers and had one of his shirts for you to wear. You blush taking it with a small “Thank you.”

Once you’ve sat up and slipped on the shirt you notice the wet spot staining the couch. “Shit… sorry about your couch Satoru. I’ll give you the money to replace it.”

Gojo laughs at your concern for his couch. “Don’t worry about it sweetheart.” He moves you both over to a the other side of the couch that isn’t ruined. “No really i’ll replace it, how much was it?” He mumbles something that you don’t understand. “What?”

“$3,600.”

You stare at him in shock. “Satoru what the hell!” He dismisses your shock with a wave of his hand and lays you both down. “I told you don’t worry about it. Right now just lay here with me.” Just as you both got comfortable and closed your eyes, your stomach growls loudly.

“I guess now would be a good time to get those sandwiches.” Gojo laughs.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[tiddygame]

Ghoap god type Au part 2!

part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3 /// part 4 /// part 5 /// part 6 /// part 7

i didn’t expect so many people to like this so this is a little addition written stream of consciousness style :)

Weeks have passed and the troops have marched on. Ghost is not very liked amongst his fellow soldiers, most viewing him as something less than human. If they notice the drastic uptick in him sneaking away, they say nothing. Whether it is out of respect, fear, or apathy does not matter.

When they stop somewhere, even if for just a night or two, he always searches the area for overgrown shrines belonging to the god. Now that he is actively seeking them out, he realizes that they’re everywhere.

Damn near every notable landscape was a ruin of what was once a commemoration for the god. Clearings in trees with stone circles on the ground, shallow caves with a pedestal holding forgotten gifts, eye-catching rocks that turned into statues when you paid attention — all for a deity that was now on the brink of death.

On the rare occasion he is unable to find one, he creates one. It was never really anything more than a pile of rocks, but the offerings were still accepted so he took it as a sign of approval. Before, he always ate his meals on the edge of camp, as far away from everyone as he could get while still being in camp. But then he remembered that he didn’t give a shit and would wander further into the woods before sitting down to eat.

Now, it was the same routine but a little less alone. To call some old ass god a friend was a stretch, especially since half of the time it felt more like trying to feed a skittish stray dog, but he enjoyed the time spent “together”. He decided not to think about whether that was an exploitable weakness or if he was going soft and instead tried to enjoy his newfound respite.

Of course, nothing stays happy forever.

When the battle they had been marched towards finally came, Ghost was put on the frontlines, as per usual. This time he felt Different but chalked it up to nerves with feeling like he might have something to lose now.

That morning, he hadn’t received breakfast so the only offering he had been able to provide was a few flowers that were in the area. He felt beyond stupid while picking them, but when they were laid down, the god hadn’t even waited for him to turn away to be able to dramatically accept the offering. They were accepted immediately, with a strong breeze rustling the branches and such an intense feeling flooding through him he’d had to take a step back.

The forgotten god of death likes flowers, apparently.

Within a few hours, he went from wondering if he would now be upgrading his food offerings to include a garnish of whatever flowers he found in the area, to wondering if that would be the last offering the god would ever receive.

The arrow had nestled between plates of his armor, striking him in the lower ribs. He was dying far too slowly for it to have hit anything vital, but he was still dying. He was an okay field medic, but it was that very knowledge that meant he knew he was doomed.

Being nothing more than a weapon, he was not allowed to see the healers the same way everyone else was. As the battle finished with their side unfortunately victorious, he wondered if the general even realized he could be fatally wounded.

The smoke cleared, the injured men were hurried to the medical tents, the general began planning their next attack, and Ghost lay there, dying and forgotten in an open field. He had been looking forward to this moment for so long, but now that he was here, he wondered who would give his god offerings tomorrow. Realizing that in dying, he would be taking the god with him made him feel almost remorseful.

But the darkness was creeping in on his vision and his woes seemed to fall away as did the rest of the world. Perhaps he would be seeing the god soon.

————

He did not expect to wake up, and yet he was staring at the canopy of leaves above him and wondering why Hell looked so nice. When the pounding in his head went away, he sat up slowly, first rolling onto his side and reeling from the pain. When he was able to push himself up into a seated position, he realized that Hell not only looked lovely, but incredibly familiar as well.

Once his vision stopped swirling, he saw that he wasn’t in the afterlife at all, but instead had been lying on the offering table he had just left flowers on that morning. Still barely comprehending what was going on, he scrambled off the shrine. Just because he’d challenge a god to a fistfight doesn’t mean he’s entirely stupid. He still remembers stories that the elders would use to scare him and the other kids — about how anything on the offering table was an offering that could be taken.

He wasn’t interested in becoming a human sacrifice just yet so he fell to the grass and tried to remember what happened. The pain made everything muddied, but he knew for certain he was supposed to be dead. The shrine he had woken on gave some indication of what must’ve happened, though the why of it all was still a mystery.

Would the god of death betray his own domain just for the sake of keeping him alive?

Lifting his shirt and finding a golden scar on what should have been a fatal injury, he found out that yes, yes they would. The pain made it take a good few minutes to stand and he distantly wondered how much power the god had. He’d heard of deities saving their favorite (and in this case, only) follower from the brink of death, but never heard mention of the pain.

He deduced that the god must still be too weak to have done such magic fuckery without repercussions and that the full-body agony must be at least one of those repercussions. As he sat pondering the power level of the being, he went to run his hand through his hair but stopped, feeling something that wasn’t there before.

A flower, tucked behind his ear. One he picked that morning.

The god of death saved him and put a dandelion behind his ear.

————

It wasn't until the next night that he was able to visit the shrine. As expected, he was yelled at for disappearing for several hours but he was too out of it to really hear any of what was being said. The pain would come and go at seemingly random and each spike that made his steps stutter was another reminder of just how close he had been to death.

Waylaid by his duties and own requirements of rest, he finally snuck out with the little dinner he had been given. Part of him was a lot more scared than he’d like to admit, having no idea what the god would want in return for the miracle they’d performed. He really did not want to be indebted to yet another person, much less a god.

It took him much longer than usual to make it to the shrine, slowed by pain and exhaustion. It was pitch black by the time he got there but the area around the pedestal had a slight glow.

He set down his offerings and really hoped it was enough to not incur the wrath of an angry god that felt like they were owed more than they received. His dinner — consisting of a bread roll and salted meat, a true feast — along with some jewelry he was able to pilfer and more flowers was far from what any god would expect in return for such a miracle, but it was all he had to offer.

He took a stuttering step back and bowed his head. He may be a prideful bastard but he’d consider the day a victory if he lived long enough to feel embarrassed. His fingers tingled, the leaves rustled, and he opened his eyes to find— Oh. Hmmm.

The flowers and jewelry were gone, but the plate had more food on it.

Well, that’s… something. He looked up at the sky, wondering if the god was watching him. After some hesitation, he verbalized his question, asking if this meant the offering was rejected.

There was no answer. When he looked back down, the plate had been moved closer towards him. Okay, what the fuck? The food looked kind of shitty, honestly, but looking closer he realized that’s because it was his offerings that he had given.

Still not quite grasping the situation, he slowly grabbed the plate, waiting to see if he’d be struck by lightning. However, no murderous rain clouds spontaneously appeared as it left the altar. He examined the plate. The food was stacked rather precariously; there wasn’t much of it but the randomness of the items ensured it was on the brink of falling.

Was this meant to be a gift? For him? Why would a god continue to give more and more while receiving almost nothing in return?

He took a moment to sit down, definitely out of caution and not pain, trying to figure out if this was what the deity wanted him to do. Tentatively, he grabbed a piece of bread and slowly began eating. He was slowed by the shake in his hands and for once was right in saying it wasn’t from nerves. The shakiness had been persisting ever since he woke up but had gotten better over time. Before, he hadn’t been able to even pick up small items without struggle. It all seemed a small price to pay considering he should’ve died in that field.

As he ate, he stared up at the altar and wondered how a god whose favorite offerings were flowers had gotten such an awful reputation. Lost in thought, he was pulled back to the present as the apple almost rolled off the plate. He caught it, moving to set it in his lap instead, but noticed something that made him freeze.

Someone was there.

He felt it, both the eyes watching him and the domineering presence that had taken up the area. He carefully continued his movements while looking around, alarmed to see nothing there. He took stock of his surroundings, trying to discern what he was sensing. It seemed the god was no longer simply watching him from the heavens.

Not expecting an answer, he asked aloud if the god wanted some of the food, resolutely staring at his plate. He was unused to feeling a divine being near him. It was unsettling.

No.

The answer seemed to materialize from nothing. He hadn’t heard it, hadn’t read it, it didn’t even feel like it had been some kind of psychic fuckery. It just was. Man, gods were weird.

Pushing the limit, he asked if they had a favorite flower.

Whichever you give me.

And then the presence was gone. He was back to eating alone in a clearing. What the fuck does that mean? The weird godly way of talking didn’t provide much in the way of tone. Was it happy? Flirty? Apathetic? Annoyed?

He shook his head and resumed eating. It didn’t matter. Tomorrow would be an even longer day as they pack up and march on.

He needs to get his god more flowers.

[queen-of-reptiles]

𝙿𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚂

description: Lauren runs through the same park everyday, at the same time everyday, but when she is an hour later one day, she finds her routine changing, so she can get one more look at the beauty hidden amongst pages of notes.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

lauren hemp x female reader

disclaimer: this is all fiction! Do not take any of this seriously

warnings: so much fluff omg, so much fluff, fluffffff

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted

liked by, y/f/n1, y/f/n2, and 388 others

y/n man fuck whoever told me to study law 🤓

view 103 comments

y/f/n1: girl ik, I've just eaten a tub of ice cream, cried and banged out an essay on civil justice in the 80's. 😝

^

y/n: lmao loved the add on of cried 😌

^

y/f/n1: felt like it was needed ☺️

y/f/n2: I don't get how you make everything look so aesthetic??? 😩😩

^

y/n: because I am deffo failing this course so might as well make it look good ! 💙

^

y/f/n3: Didn't you get an A in our last test? 🤨

^

y/f/n4: I am a drama kid, and even I know she's fucking dramatic 😭

^

y/f/n3: Such a drama queen this one!

^

y/n: I hate both of you stfu 🙄

y/bff/n: That's my best friend, she real bad bitch, she don't got no money, cause at law she's shit... 😏

^

y/n: how long did that take you? 🤨

^

y/bff/n: too long honestly...

^

y/n: 😭😭

see more comments...

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Lauren was running an hour later than usual, they had quite an exhausting game yesterday, so on her day off, she usually slept in until half eight ad was running in the park by nine.

Today it was ten am, and as Lauren jogged through, music pushing her through, she paused in shock. The most beautiful girl she had ever seen was lying on a picnic blanket, basking in the warm summer sun.

Rings littered her thin fingers, as well as several necklaces which hung from her neck and over the notebook she was writing in. Jeans and a sweet flowery top covered her, the mom jeans hanging on her body.

She had wired headphones in, which Lauren found odd, but the girl didn't seem to notice her as she stared, too focused on writing whatever she was writing.

Lauren briefly though about going over, but then she realised she was messy haired, red faced, and sweaty and thought better of it. So instead, she jogged on.

But suddenly Lauren found herself changing her routine, and every day off she had, which changed, she went to the park at 10am, and every time, other than Thursdays and Tuesdays, the girl was there, buried in pages.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

lauren_hemp just posted on her close friends story

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

lauren_hemp just posted on her close friends story

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted on her story

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

After Lauren's complete fail, the next day off they had, Chloe, Alex and Jill came with her to the park, the four in relaxed outfits and hoping to sit and relax together, as well as help Lauren with this painful crush.

As they got there, the mysterious girl was already there, writing out pages and pages once again, and Jill let out a light whistle, nodding at Lauren in agreement.

The girl was hot. Chloe and Alex both sat down near her, dragging the other two with them, y/n looked up and she waved nicely at Lauren, who waved back with a smile.

Chloe sighed in relief that Lauren had at least reacted normal to that, and as y/n went back to studying the four friends started a conversation as they relaxed in the sun.

Eventually the group got up to play some football, y/n having not moved since the turned up, Chloe had hit the ball slightly hard and Lauren blanched as she ran.

The quick blonde, only manged just to get to y/n, pulling the girl who had stood up to stretch out of the way of the incoming ball the football instead hitting one of her notebooks and sending loose pages everywhere.

"Oh my god." y/n gasps.

"Sorry!" Chloe calls. "I am so sorry!" She adds again, but y/n waves a hand kindly.

"Luckily I have my guardian angel!" y/n calls, smiling at Lauren gratefully, who blushes at the sweet nickname. "Thank you." y/n adds as she bends down to pick at her papers.

Lauren kicks the ball across to Chloe who restarts their game of up, with the other two, but Lauren stays by y/n leaning down to help pick up her scattered papers.

"Oh you don't have to." y/n starts but Lauren smiles and shakes her head.

"I want to." Lauren promises as she hands the girl her papers. "Do you maybe want to get coffee sometime?" Lauren suddenly asks, as if she had been forced to say it.

Truth is, if she hadn't of said it then, she never would have. y/n looked up at her and furrowed her brows slightly, as if trying to figure something out.

"Like a date?" She asks and Lauren nods.

"Unless you don't want to." Lauren adds.

"No I want to, I was just trying to figure out why Lauren Hemp is asking me out." y/n admits and Lauren winces.

"You know who I am?" She asks and y/n shrugs.

"My best friend is a city fan, though I am more partial to Arsenal I must admit." y/n teases and Lauren pretends as she's been shot dragging and heart-breakingly beautiful laugh from the student.

"How could you?" Lauren asks jokingly and y/n laughs again.

"Quite easily, I suppose I will have to make it up to you." y/n hums. "How about a date tomorrow, after coffee today?" She asks and Lauren grins.

"Uh, yeah, yeah that would be great." Lauren smiles, a bright gleam in her eyes.

"Cool, well can I get your number then?" y/n asks and Lauren jerks forward, quickly tapping her number in and sending a message to herself.

"Do you want to go get coffee now?" Lauren asks, y/n sighing in relief and nodding.

"Please, I look at anything else about civil justice proceedings, my brain is going to self-destruct." y/n says and Lauren chuckles and looks up to tell her friends.

However, she finds no one, the three having dispersed with shared grins as Lauren and y/n started talking, finding no reason to interrupt they left.

y/n packed away her notes, throwing her highlighters into her pencil case and standing up, she smoothed out her summer dress, the article stopping just below her knees.

"You're so pretty." Lauren said without thinking, and even though she had just said it aloud, it sounded so calm and meant.

"Charmer." y/n blushed, smiling softly as she held out her hand. "Come on." She smiles and Lauren takes her hand.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

lauren_hemp just posted on her story

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted on their story

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

lauren_hemp just posted on her story

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted on their story

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

twitter/ X

username1: has anyone seen Lauren's story???? 🤨🤨

^

username2: YES - is she out on a date?

^

username3: it looks like it !!!! 😏😏

username4: Lauren and a girl have been seen out in Manchester!!!

^

username5: She is in my class at school!!! 😱😱

^

username6: her @ is @y/n - She is so pretty! 😊

^

username7: nahhh she's not 🙄🙄

^

username8: yeah what if she is just using Lauren??? 😡

^

username9: stfu it aint our bsuiness! 🖕

see more comments...

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

lauren_hemp just posted

liked by, chloekelly, leahwilliamsonn, and 487, 288 others

tagged y/n

lauren_hemp So proud of you baby <3 you deserve this after all the sleepless night and pages of notes! Also happy one year love - best WAG I could have asked for!

view 13, 711 comments

username1: has it been a year already??? WOah !!

username2: feels like just yesterday we were hunting her down ...

^

username3: who would have guessed how much we would love her too! ☺️☺️

leahwilliamsonn: Well done y/n!!

^

y/n: Thankooooo xxx

y/bff/n: SOOoooooooOO PROUD! 💙

^

y/n: love youuuuuu 💙

y/f/n1: It seems like only yesterday you were crying with dominoes saying you were going to drop out. 🥹

^

y/n: what a time, what a time. 😊

username4: This is all just so cute! 🥹

chloekelly: This happened because of me just so everyone knows 👏👏

^

lauren_hemp: yes lets all thank Chloe for nearly knocking out my girlfriend 🙄

^

y/n: thanks Chloe! Thought she would never come and talk to me. <3

^

lauren_hemp: I would have! 😶

^

chloekelly: nahhhhhh ☺️

^

username5: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA 😂

see more comments...

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

END

loved this one as it is just cuteness honestly !!

-

Queenie xx

[alien-magnolia]

Wife <3

Short fic/ description: domestics with your older!neighbor Eddie Munson, who you love with your whole heart!! Marriage is bliss.

Tw: d/s implied dynamics, major breeding/preg kink, family fluff, protective! Eddie Munson, dom-coded! Eddie Munson, sub-coded!Hyperfem reader!!

A/n: I think I might make this a series!

Your pink fingernails tapped on the pastel blue mixer as it mixed the eggs, flour, milk, baking soda and sugar together. You were baking a cake for the return of your beloved husband, Eddie. 

Although you were only twenty-three, he was thirty-five, and you first met him as you and your dad moved into Hawkins. Your dad and yourself came from a religious family, and you made sure to make room for G-d in your day to day life. 

Your very ‘trustworthy’ next door neighbor was exactly what you wished for. Your relationship grew, the two of you fell in love. Eddie Munson saved you in an way that G-d never would. He was your person, a person that was your home. 

You moved in next door with him only a few months after you began to date. A year after, a quiet and eloping wedding in the deep of the Hawkins woods, where you and Eddie swam in the creek naked afterwards, for hours on end. 

Here you were then, home-making, adding an earnest addition to the delicious dinner ready for your husband. You rub your belly, swollen with Eddie’s child, as you feel a cramp. Your unborn babe must have been kicking. 

You hear your Eds come through the door. Strong, fully tatted arms wrap around you, pulling you close. “How’s my beautiful girl today, huh?,” he asks, with a peck to your cheek, which turns into a long, tender kiss. “M’fine, my Eds. Just cramps.”

He gave you a look of pity, then leaning down to caress your heavy belly, heavy just for him. “How’s my son today, being nice to mommy?,” he chuckles, his hairy hand soothing the swollen stretch marks he gave you. 

Just a few months after marriage, the both of you had fulfilled your most primal urges <3 here he had, his young wife, all round and heavy with his child, he bred her to his heart’s content!! Oh, did you love being bred. You and your Eds tried for months, months, for a child. You were almost at full-term now, and how you loved carrying your husband’s seed all this time, feeling it grow inside you. 

You sigh, leaning into Eddie as his dark curls tickle your cheek, his beard feels scratchy as he buries his head into your neck. “Made dinner f’me, huh? Can’t wait, sweetheart. Go on, you rest on the couch and I’ll take care of you both.” You do as said, and how you loved being coddled by him. 

He brings you the dinner that you made, gives you a shoulder, neck, and belly rub , his muscles kneading your skin, you were completely putty in his hands. This was usually apart of your nightly routine. You would face the days worth of chores, pregnancy issues, and more. Eds would come home, feed you, calm you down, and then you were under his spell, wrapped around his tattooed finger (wedding ring tattoos instead of actual rings) all ready to be bred before the night would end. 

My happy, heavy wife, hmm?,” he’d say, after a massage. Daddy’s girl, carrying my seed, so fuckin’ good f’me.” At that point, you’d already be panting for him, watching his calloused fingers go up your thigh, squeezing the soft skin you had there.

The cross on the wall watches the both of you with searing contempt, as Eddie starts his ministrations elsewhere, between your legs, one hand gently rubbing your puffy and swollen clit <3 the other rests on your belly.

Sooner rather than later, he has you back up, legs spread, pounding you from behind while you scream, losing your mind at the feeling of his thick cock dragging along your walls, his veins pulsing, his balls softly teasing your puffy lips!!

You chant his name as if he were G-d himself! “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, was all you could think about, as his wide chest pressed down against your back, having his pregnant wife in a mating press, he finished in you. <3 

“You okay, sweets? Let me help you up, yeah?,” he smiles, that chivalrous, protective side of his always showing, growing even stronger for his wife, knowing there is more to protect now <3.

He adjusts you comfortably on the couch, you lay your head on his chest, fingers tracing his happy trail. You felt ever so happy, that warm trail of his seed dripping down your still pulsing walls. 

Evolution, biology, have run their course. Both you and Eddie succumbed to your most primal instinct. You were married, owned — pregnant, bred. He would die protecting his wife and unborn child.

The both of your wedding ring tattoos glistened in the light of the dim yellow bulb, covered by a white linen shade with ‘Garfield’ on it.

Gentle hands in larger ones, the both of you drift off to sleep, with Eddie’s hand still around your belly, loving you, cherishing your body.

[mister-ious]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley at the Gym headcanons:

Nsfw mdni thx

Fuuuuuckkkkk Ghost at the gym getting pumped and his muscles bulging out of his fitted black tee, flexing and stretching while he lifts and pushes. He would grunt and groan at the very last few reps of his sets and he’d try to keep his face from contorting, just letting his eyes squint and keeping a little frown or pursing his lips.

Ghost’s tee would be damp with sweat and would cling to every groove and crevice of his muscles like a fucking glove. And fuuuck his scent.. He’d smell sooo good. Just the thought of his musk just emanating from his dirty post-gym clothing makes me feral… putting me back in a primitive state its not even funny bro.

He’d probably spend just over an hour working out. He also probably prefers calisthenics over weights for the convenience, so he’d know all these tricks, AND it would one of the reasons why he’s able to soundlessly slither around and through environments: excellent balance.

And when he does use weights, he’s more likely to use equipment like a benchpress/leg-presssince it would train both limbs at the same time so that it’s more efficient—minmaxing gym routine.

When he’s not able to go to the gym he’d workout at home/at the barracks using whatever furniture is available. If he’s at the barracks, Soap would probably join him if Soap randomly witnesses it.

Also if he’s using the gym at the military he’d put on a black surgical mask, but, if he’s not and is using a normal gym he’d go mask-off.

Ghost wouldn’t be super lean since he doesn’t give that much of a fuck about his diet. Like, he’d care about getting all of his nutrients but he wouldn’t be much of a protein fiend. He’s a big muscular man, not an instagram gym influencer.

Like that popular hc, he wouldn’t listen to music at the gym BUUUT i feel like he would keep a pair of headphones on to muffle the outside noise. He wants total silence while working out, like a weirdo. Ghost would also carry those gallon sized water bottles with him to the gym.

After his workout, he’d take an agonising cold shower—he’d poker-face through it though as if it was a normal temperature-d shower. He’d take around 25 minutes since he’s a big man with big limbs and a big body to clean. Usually, Ghost would exercise in the early hours of the morning so after his workout, he’d eat.

Ghost would probably make something Huge. Maybe a pot of slop: anything he could get his hands on in his pantry and fridge and just plopped them in a pot on some heat. Or something like a girthy breakfast burrito.

Fuuuck it’d also be nice if Ghost happened to have taken an interest in rock-climbing. I think he’d like it since there are probably similar drills to rock-climbing in his military training. So fucking hot to imagine him just scanning this wall and immediately finding the most optimal way to climb to the top. You’ll see his biceps flex and his triceps form dimples fuck

Reader-insert/nsfw part:

There would be some times where he’d get extremely horny after gym and would immediately rush back home. His cock erect, creating a tent in his sweats as he drives. He couldn’t wait so he’d pullover to some indoor parking lot and palm his swollen dick, slowly taking off his pants and briefs. He pumps his hand slowly up and down his thick length, imagining you in between his legs, kneeling down and looking up at him with those big eyes of yours.

He’d shudder at the thought of it. His dick twitching in his hand as he fucks it faster. Shaky sighs turn into grunts, grunts turn into groans, and groans turn into growls. Fuck, he’s so close.

“Fuck, love,” he hisses, thrusting into his hand as he tightens his grip.

“Ah..!” He spurts opaque ribbons onto his steering wheel and pants, gasping and writhing in his seat as his cock spasms out the last few drops, gushing down to his balls.

“Fuck.”

[little-svt]

Makeup wearing | Angst + Comfort

Wc: 2.2k+

Taglist: @pastel-princess-please @kiki-woo @fishsquishh

Celebrity

It felt like the two of you had been waiting for this event for longer than you’d been together. That wasn’t the case of course, but there was nothing more important to Jihoon. More than his career and his relationship with you, than the critical decision to finally go public with you. The announcement of your attendance to the biggest awards show in the Korean entertainment industry had been released to the public just a month before and each day since had passed incredibly slow, anticipation flipping back and forth from excitement to nauseating anxiety and back again. He’d shield your eyes and ears from those spreading hate so you would only be surrounded with the rosy glow of all his fans and friends who supported the two of you wholeheartedly. Anything to lessen the pressure.

It had helped, he had helped. But with the day finally upon you, honestly it hadn’t felt real. A good morning kiss from Jihoon and another before he left for work as usual. But it wasn’t as usual, you both had a big day ahead of you. The pressure still monumental.

“Today’s the day. Still sleepy, baby?” He’d shared a thoughtful smile with you when he stopped by for his final goodbye kiss for the day, your eyes still closed, not quite awake yet.

He’d let you sleep in a little longer, knowing you had a million alarms and the two of you had planned everything down to your eye makeup for this event. It would be okay… everything would be fine. As he collected the rest of his things, closing the door quietly so he wouldn’t wake you, Jihoon’s mind wandered, thinking unwillingly, dolefully of all the support they’d lost. It was worth it, without a doubt. But still, he hadn’t taken even a second to mourn, looking away, scrolling past, putting down his phone as to not expose you or make you any more anxious than you already were. So you’d never have to worry that he might regret his choice for a single second. Jihoon wanted this, to share his world with you, and you with the world. It was time.

Waking up without him was more common than you liked but at the same time, both you and Jihoon liked your ‘You time’. You took your time getting up, stretching and basking in the sun a moment as you open the curtains in your room on your way to the bathroom. Then onto the most important meal of the day, you chopped fruit for your cereal and took your place in front of the television and put on your latest favorite show.

When you finally opened your eyes for the morning, the curtains were shut, leaving the rooms comfortable, dim darkness. Perfect for sleeping until noon, you learned as you picked up your phone, rolling over to find the bedside next to you, made up neatly as usual. Jihoon was a little too good at sneaking out without waking you. But you appreciated it. Sleeping in when you could wasn’t rare, but it was always a treat.

Taking your time, a little before noon you finally rolled out of bed, opening your curtains and standing in the warmth of the rising sun just a little longer before starting your morning routine; brushing your teeth, breakfast, getting dressed for the day. You skipped the last part, settling for a bowl of cereal in front of the television, comfortable in your pajamas.

A few hours later you realized you overestimated how long you would be able to sit in front of the tv and do nothing, finding yourself pulling your hair back and scanning your apartment. Seeing your abandoned bowl on the counter you got to washing dishes first, moving around your kitchen, wiping counters until light clutter here and there lead you through each of the rooms in your home. All tucker out, you crashed again on the sofa, still in your pjs and only an hour and a half burned, 3 to go. A ding from your phone caught your attention.

‘Good morning, beautiful. Did you eat yet?? I’m getting lunch with some of the guys now’ - 🍚 my rice boy 🍚

Smiling to yourself you pushed down the urge to reply snarkily that it was in fact; no longer morning.

‘I had breakfast a few hours ago! Just got done cleaning the entire house 🙈😝 send help I’m actually bored out of my mind’

Pushing send you glanced around again, maybe you’d missed something, but apparently your mind was hellbent not to relax during your only downtime. Not long after, your phone dinged again.

‘Maybe watch a few episodes of that show you’ve been trying to get to? I’ll see you later 🫰’ - 🍚 my rice boy 🍚

You found yourself smiling again at his sign off. Jihoon had come far from his dry texting days, with your help of course. To others it didn’t seem like much but they weren’t there to see the frequent ‘👍’ and ‘yes/no’ to questions that definitely needed elaboration. He always insisted he was more of a phone call type of guy. Somehow this same man was writing and producing award winning albums for an internationally famous KPOP group.

Setting your phone down on the glass coffee table, you swapped it out for the remote again, and began scrolling through Netflix. If you watched the new drama you’d been wanting to finish, you wouldn’t be able to relax or pull yourself away. You mumbled mindlessly to yourself, settling on a show you’d watched more than a couple times now, possibly more than you could count on two hands. It was comforting and while it wasn’t around when you were growing up, it gave you the same nostalgic feeling. While the intro played, you stood to fetch yourself a drink, grabbing your favorite plush before you headed back to the living room to plop on the sofa, baby blue mug in hand just in time for the intro to end.

Curling around your plush, you found yourself stretching out, resting your head on a throw pillow as the second and third episodes rolled around. It was too late when you became conscious of your heavy eyelids and tired body, your eyes already fluttering shut.

Some time later a warm hand shifted on your tummy, big, strong arms squeezing you slightly, just enough to pull you to his body, a safe cocoon around you. When your eyes blinked open, your vision, the room - no - the world was hazy. When had you moved to your bed? And when had Jihoon come home. Thoughts didn’t stick in your mind long, brushed away by the fuzzy, warm feelings surrounding you, coating every touch, sound, even his smell.

“You think too much.” He muttered, lips against your ear, still half asleep. He always seemed to know when you were awake, even if you were completely still.

Your cheeks tingled, your lips stretching into a sleepy smile as you shimmied and twisted to face him.

“Aah, no.”, he complained, eyebrows creasing as he closed his eyes even tighter, feeling quite noncompliant to your decision to wake up, “I can’t even cuddle you??”

“Ehehe.. You can…”, you giggled when he allowed you, even welcomed you rubbing your nose against his, “But you’re gonna be mad..”

Jihoon opened his eyes, looking at you quizzically. His silly expression only making you laugh more.

“I gotta pee!!” you squealed, squirming out of his hold.

Still groggy, he grasped what he could of you, your warmth quickly leaving the moment you shifted from his chest. A series of desperate, complaining ‘no’s repeating as he fought with you and the blankets to keep you in his arms a little longer.

Something so simple..

The front door slammed as Jihoon strode urgently through your apartment, not stopping to remove his shoes as he threw his bag to the floor. His mind hardly registered you rousing from your sleep on the sofa as he passed you to tear through your room, his clothes, and anything in his way so uncharacteristically. Each harsh clatter of clothes hangers or thud of a shoe made your heart jump a little as you rubbed the sleepy from your eyes, anxious and confused. Your hands tightened almost painfully around the soft fabric of your blanket, squeezing and pulling it to your chest as you listened. You still hadn’t collect your thoughts, only anxiously wondering what could have made him so mad.

Not long later he was trudge back to the living room, his stylists could take care of the rest. Just when he thought he couldn’t lose his head anymore, you were still sitting on the sofa, your hair a mess, in your Saturday pajamas.

“Y/n-“, he held his head, turning away from you to take a breath but a quick glance at his watch and he was boiling.

“Why are you..?” Your words wouldn’t come out, your voice trapped in your lungs as your eyes flittered over his composure, nearly trembling with an anger that frightened you, silenced you.

“What do you mean why am I-“, how you could ask that was baffling to him, “Where is your head? We don’t have time.”

Your eyes stung with tears as he stepped toward you, and you could only try not to cry pathetically as he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t. He repeated that over and over in his head. There was just no time. Small and insignificant couldn’t begin to describe the feeling you were drowning in, the ache of fear in your heart of the one person who always made you feel safe. You watched him speed around, fetching your clothes, fixing your hair and makeup. Looking right through you.

“Appa mad-“

“Y/n, we cannot do this right now. PLEASE.” He did look at you this time, right into your eyes. But you didn’t recognize this man. And that was all it took.

The makeup he applied streaked down your cheek, one tear, two, and soon your face was a streaky mess. Worse off, he took a step back when he realized his first thought was regret that he hadn’t chosen a waterproof mascara.

“SHIT!” He cursed, not sure at what. Not at you. But all you heard was your Appa yelling and cursing at you.

“I don’t wanna!!” Sobbing, you squirmed out of your dress, plopped onto the bathroom floor and just wailed.

He was on the verge of pulling out his hair, his mind whirring, messy, but the sound of your cry rang clear. None of this mattered at all without you.

“Baby-“ he sighed, softening. But maybe too stubborn or just plain distraught you continued to sob and fret.

“Baby, look at me.”, Jihoon grabbed your face in his hands, he needed you to focus even knowing it would be so hard at a time like this, “Appa is not mad.”

Blinking, tears still dripping from your eyelashes, how could you believe him? He only held your face like this when you got into trouble or when you had serious talks.

“I made Appa late…” your voice shook as you worked your little mind around the situation, each word threatening to turn into a cry and then a wail.

“No, baby.”, he did his best to fruitlessly catch your tears with his thumbs, “Appa made Appa late.”

Your sobs stopped in confusion. Eyes still blurry, you blinked away your tears until you could see him clearly. The confusion only grew seeing a soft smile, a sad look still in his eyes while he looked over your puffy, teary features.

“I got caught up in the studio. Same old story, right? I was thinking about you, about us. This is a big night for us, isn’t it?”

A handful of words could only do so much couldn’t they? But these words were pure and potent, a spell strong enough to calm your mind. They were true, he should have been home with more than enough time to wake you and get ready alongside you tonight. Jihoon continued, slowly working at your hair as he spoke.

“I was writing a song I want you to hear someday. Words and melodies that make me think of you. Once I started recording, I guess time got away from me.” Finished with your hair, he used a cotton pad soaked in makeup remover to clean up your eye makeup.

“That wasn’t fair of Appa, huh? This isn’t your fault, kiddo”, he gave you a kiss before tapping some pink gloss on your pouting lips. To his surprise, you took his hand in both of yours with the sweetest expression, your watery eyes big when you spoke.

“It’s okay, Appa. It’ll be okay.”

He could help but laugh and kiss your head. His lips pressed firmly against the top of your head, eyebrows scrunched together, he hoped you could feel every ounce of love he had for you.

“Okay, baby-”, he held your face between his hands again, serious time had returned, this time much less scary now that you’d calmed down, “Can you be big for Appa, tonight?”

Nodding as he squished your cheeks, you sat up straight speedily, letting him help you get ready for your big evening. The stylist would have to forgive him for being late this time. Everything would be okay as long as he had you.

🧸Endnote: was it worth it being so late? 🙈 I’ve been working on this fic since before Woozi day 💔 I really love it though he always hitting me with the feels 💘 I really wanted to take my time with this as well since it’s such a sensitive area, I wanted to make sure I portrayed how I view our Hoonie the very best I could ㅠ ㅠ somehow it feels a little silly but I wanted to express it in a way that shows him as a caregiver needing you as much as you need him AKA nellie is just a simp 😭💖 ~ 🐶🐰🍓

🧸Masterlist🧸

[kewpie-aisle]

𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕨𝕠 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕𝕤

Moving to Japan to start a new career is never an easy step. But it's a once in a lifetime opportunity, and somewhere along the way you find a spark like no other

pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x PhysicalTherapist!Reader

notes: suggestive language, professional f!reader, formerathlete!reader, took a lot of creative liberties with the reader character, OCs included. Words in bold are inner thoughts

wc: 6288 words

I potentially may make this a series - let me know!

dividers made by cafekitsune

The soft sound of your alarm starts shifting and growing louder, as you fumble in the dark to hit the stop button. Opening one eye to see the sun’s rays lighting up the room in a low orange glow. The light breeze through the curtains and the light is enough to get you up and begin your morning stretches with a groan. The morning routine becomes a blur as you navigate through the usual of showering, getting dressed, and eating a quick breakfast before heading out to work. Most people dread the morning commute, but it’s your personal solace to tune out the world and enjoy an hour of time to yourself. Headphones on, music blasting, daydreams carrying you through Osaka as the subway zips through the city. A buzzing sensation from your pocket interrupting your peace, but you already have a guess on who’s trying to get your attention this morning. Glancing at your phone screen, you catch the message banner before your phone goes back to sleep. Exactly on time.

Coach Foster: What’s your arrival? Y/N: Take a guess Coach Foster:...Y/N. Y/N: You’re messaging me at 6:45AM, come on now. Entertain me. Coach Foster: Knowing you, you’re probably already on the train. So, about ten minutes away? Checking your map estimate, you huff out a quiet chuckle. Damn, he’s good. After a brisk jog to your destination, you’re pushing through the doors of the athletics facility Coach gave you directions for, to see the man already waiting by the inside entrance for you. 

“Are you finally going to admit that you’re my assigned FBI agent? You have to be tracking me, how else are you still this good at knowing my whereabouts Fossy” you tease as you’re pulled into a hug from the older gentleman. Samson Foster, the head coach for the MSBY Black Jackals, in his black tracksuit pulls away and looks down at you with a warm smile on his face. It’s been quite a few years since you’ve seen him, but the few greys peppered through his normally blond hair is the only telltale sign of time passing. “Let’s keep the nicknames at bay in front of the team please? I don’t need mutiny in this team too.” He shakes his head with a grimace, as he steers you inside to give you a tour of the facilities. “We can play catch up at your welcome party tonight, but for now let’s get you started on your first day.” Coach Foster begins running through the itinerary, you both make quick work of getting through the necessary formalities with onboarding. As you make your way to the medical team offices, you hear the distant shuffles of sneakers and a whistle blowing. Making a note that the courts must be closeby, Coach opens a door leading you into a room that reminds you so much of the principal’s office. Standing to the side are two individuals quietly discussing over a clipboard before looking up at you.

“There they are. You were right Foster, she’s exactly on time.” An older gentleman in a white coat looks at his watch, breathing out a laugh before bowing for introductions. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N. We’ve heard only wonderful things about you from Coach Foster. I’m Dr. Preston Burke, the team physician for the MSBY Black Jackals. This here is my colleague, Iwaizumi Hajime.” You shake the doctor’s hand as you look over to the other man to his side. As you reach your hand out, the other man bows quickly before taking your hand in a firm shake. “Iwaizumi Hajime, last name comes first in many Japanese introductions as it’s standard to go by last names here. I’m the athletic trainer for the team, it’s nice to meet you.” Handshake firm, your eyes follow the hand up a strong tanned arm, to the face of a god. Ok girl, reel it in. Yes he’s good looking. The man in front of you quirks an eyebrow in reaction to a small chuckle escaping your mouth, shaking off your inner thoughts, you smile. “Thank you Iwaizumi-san, for the cultural explanation. I’ve done some prep, wouldn’t want to come into another country and disrespect anyone. Please correct me at any time if I’ve done something wrong. It’s nice to officially meet you. I’ve gotten a lot of notes from Coach Foster.” Letting go of each other’s hands, both your attention is turned to Dr. Burke’s mention of the day’s itinerary. Although the majority of the day consists of introductions, the medical staff team has some blocks to discuss structure and strategy to help you get adjusted. Thankfully a lot of the material had been shared ahead of time, so you’re able to hit the ground running today. But the introductions aren’t until later in the day, but you have a small break before the staff meetings. So you head off to your desk with Dr. Burke, to get set up. “Iwaizumi please come with me, I need your eyes on some gameplay strategies that Meian put together. He’s waiting for us on the court.” Coach Foster pats the young man’s shoulder as he nods to agree. “I promise to keep it quick so he’s back to join you both.” Coach and Dr. Burke share a quick nod before the group says their goodbyes and splits up. 

The walk is quick and short down the hall to your shared office as Dr. Burke talks more about their background. You seamlessly go through the motions, bonding over the struggles of university, family back home, tips and tricks for learning the Japanese language, all the similar snags that come with international careers. It wasn’t an easy decision to just pick up your entire life and move to Japan, but the physical therapist role was one you couldn’t pass up. Dr. Burke’s reputation precedes him, the D-1 volleyball team is one of the best, and with your prior playing experience, you would be a perfect fit. Change wasn’t something you were ever afraid of, but after all the suffering through grad school and license tests you would be a sucker to not accept the perfect job. “I’m sure you had a similar experience Dr. Burke, but Coach has the charismatic skills of a car salesman who's low on his quota. After his pitch, there was no way I could refuse.” Dr. Burke’s solemn expression with a hand on his chin in a contemplative pose has you giggling. Birds of a feather, seems he was roped in just like you. It takes a few minutes to get your desk and laptop set up, before you’re given the tour. The shared office houses two desks in the front and a recessed second office for the primary physician. The room was primarily for administrative work, but the team’s main course of work would be in the medical office. Dr. Burke brings you down the hallway where you again hear the shuffles and faint shouts from the main courts. “The main gymnasium is just around the corner. The medical rooms are situated a stone’s throw away, for obvious reasons. You have a fully furnished space further down the hall, in between the medical offices and the locker room. For added privacy for your conversations, however thanks to your added experience, you’ll find yourself here or on the court with Iwaizumi-kun.” The doctor takes you around the pristine and sterile facilities, noting the rehabilitation and care equipment set up alongside private beds. Clearly the team has been doing well, and are supported financially. It’s good to see proper facilities set up to care for the players. Majority of the work falls within the Athletic Trainer role, since you’re fully licensed for psychological evaluations you can provide an added service. But essentially Iwaizumi-san and you would be a tag team pair. The doctor runs through the standard care protocol and shares where primary care on premise ends so that serious care is provided at approved medical facilities. Your hands are already full with the players’ files as he guides you back to the shared office space. “Iwaizumi-kun took all the careful notes in those files. His attention to detail has been a gift to me, honestly. Actually he used to play volleyball throughout his childhood as well. Quit playing after high school to study abroad for college, you should talk to him about that. Something for the two of you to bond over” he gestures to the files that you’re reading through at your desk. You hum in response, taking in carefully jotted notes in the margins of player statistics. Comments on postures, dietary restrictions, even tracked personal exercise routines to know where to adjust in facility workouts. Iwaizumi-san had begun to research cryotherapy equipment for budgeting pitches to the finance department it seemed like. 

“If it’s cryotherapy, I know a guy who can help us cut some of these estimates down. In fact one of the player’s is also close with him. We’re friends from -” cut off by a knock on the door, you both turn to see Iwaizumi-san walk in with a wave. 

“Sorry about my delay, I got caught up with Meian. What have I missed?” He notices the files in your hand and nods. “Catching up on the files? I hope my handwriting isn’t difficult to read, sometimes I can’t find my notebook in time and jot down what I can wherever I can.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he strides over to your side. You breathe out a laugh, assuring him his handwriting is neat and easy to read. You’re sharing some insight on cryotherapy research you’ve done, pulling out your phone to show him a presentation deck you had put together. Ducking his head down closer to get a look at your screen, he’s amazed by the amount of detail. Even noting slides that go into the benefits per muscular function of whole-body cryotherapy. It’s not often he meets someone who’s as passionate about the science behind the body. Glancing up at a ping on your phone, he can’t help but notice your wallpaper as it flashes by while you switch apps. “Was that…Talita Antunes as your wallpaper?” He peers over at you to see your eyes widen in surprise before you flash him the world’s biggest smile. A pang hits his heart, and the hand he’s resting on your desk to prop himself up slips a bit. Not fully catching your excited explanation about how she’s your favorite player. The room around him goes silent except for the thundering of his heart as you place your hand on his arm to show him some highlight clips of hers, impressed by the fact that you know her. Internally, Iwaizumi is making a note to buy Hinata lunch as a thank you, for drilling basic Brazilian beach volleyball facts into his head. Especially if it meant getting to see your amazing smile. A dimple popping up on one side, or the way your eyes fully crinkle to show that when you smile, your whole being exudes it. The sounds of the room slowly come back to his senses as he feels you gently pushing his shoulder. “Earth to Iwaizumi-san? Have I bored you to another dimension? Come on now, she’s too cool for you to zone out on me” You shake the man one last time, although shake should be used lightly. The trainer stood solidly, a body of muscle, needing a lot more force to cause movement. You couldn’t help but admire the sturdy feeling of muscle under your touch, shaking off the unexpected thought immediately. Taking your hand off him quickly to ensure you didn’t cross any boundaries, knowing the Japanese culture is a bit more conservative about physical touch. Hearing a soft apology, the trainer quirks an eyebrow at you, a silent ask for why. When you explain your thought on potentially making him uncomfortable, you’re met with a chuckle. “I told you he studied abroad right Y/N, he’s not bothered by that. Iwaizumi-kun lived in California for quite some time for his studies and clinical practices. Not as traditional as you think.” Dr. Burke calls out, after observing you both engrossed in your own world. It’s not often he sees his younger colleague be so carefree. Iwaizumi-kun has carried a lot of responsibility on his shoulders, especially in the early days prior to the doctor accepting the full time offer. He remembers watching Iwaizumi-kun work late night after night, taking on his own load of work so that he could go back to the hospital. Despite being the age of many of the players, he’s watched the young man carry himself with a maturity beyond his years. Although the two are close, he’s unsure if that’s his natural disposition or one he was made to mold into for personal reasons. But seeing him now, geek out about sports medicine knowledge, beach volleyball, and instinctually soften around you, warmed the older gentleman’s heart. There was clearly a natural chemistry between you two, whatever direction it goes in, all he could hope for is a happy one for the trainer. He had a soft spot in his heart for the young man, and knows that the Coach cared for the new recruit. Humming to himself, he brings his attention back to you both.

“We should be continuing her itinerary for the day, you know Iwaizumi-kun.” “Oh what? You haven’t given her the 360 degree luxury tour of our state of the art office? Well who am I to deprive her of that!” The trainer looks down at you and motions his finger in a circle; telling you to take a spin. “Luxury tour done.” A smirk plays on his lips watching you seriously take a spin in mock wonder, turning into a grin as you bite down on your bottom lip to stifle a laugh. He glances at the doctor with a raised eyebrow and a hand on the hip, silently asking what’s next on the itinerary. The three burst out into a fit of laughter from an exchange of looks, the sounds bouncing off the walls to surround the three. The moment is interrupted with a knock on the door, one of the assistant coaches peeking into the room. “Sounds like you guys are having fun, hate to interrupt that, but it’s time to meet the Jackals! Iwaizumi, can you please bring her when you’re both ready? We’ll see you in the main gymnasium” and just like he’s gone as fast as he was in the doorway. You gather yourself, turning to ask the doctor if you look nice. He flashes you a sincere thumbs up before making his way over to you. The doc gives you a gentle pat on the shoulder and a whisper of good luck as you’re pushed out the door to meet the players. 

“Why are you giving me that look?” You’re able to ask over your shoulder only to hear a soft “match their energy if you can” and a laugh before the door closes.

Iwaizumi-san has a stone cold grimace etched into his face. “Do I need to be worried? You both are absolutely not setting me up for success here” you poke at the man’s shoulder to try and get more information. “You’d think I’m being sent out to war with how solemn you guys are being. Is the team rowdy or something?” This gets a chuckle out of the man as he pushes open two large double doors into the court. “Or something” he replies quickly with a small smirk that vanishes in a second. The loud sounds of sneakers squeaking and players shouting take over your entire senses. A practice match is going on, the ball is rapidly being passed back and forth across the net. A player jumps to the side before jumping up to smash down a high set. 

For a player of that stature, a jumping height like that isn’t common. As if Apollo himself graced the court and grew wings to fly up to his perch in the sky. The whistle blows and the orange haired player lands on his feet with a heavy thump. Strong thighs easily absorb the shock of the jump to allow the player to gracefully stand up. Excited high fives with a blond setter are shared, cheers for a successful play. Hinata Shoyou. Gods, the matches on tv never do it enough justice. He’s always better in person. You can’t help a low whistle, coming out your mouth as you make your way to Coach’s side, unaware of the pair of watchful eyes from your side.

Iwaizumi looks down at you to gauge your reaction to the play. He’s used to dropped jaws or people stopped in their tracks when watching Shoyo play. He still remembers his first time watching him play like it was yesterday, and not more than a decade ago. Especially for a non-Japanese native who may not be familiar with all the players, the wing spiker’s jump must’ve been astonishing. But there you are, surprising him instead. Not an ounce of shock on your face but instead a giant grin and a fire in your eyes that he often sees in the players’ eye. 

“Someone has secrets to spill later” he nudges you with an elbow before taking his spot on the other side of Coach Foster. Before you can respond to the insinuation, Coach is whistling the team over. In front of you stood all the players, with the starting 9 rotation in the front. A handful of them grab their towels to wipe sweat off their bodies, and take a much needed water break. Thank you Coach for allowing me this opportunity to enjoy this eye candy. You praise the gods above for boys teams being able to play shirts vs skins practices, before a hand comes down on your shoulder. “Say hello to our new physical therapist, Dr. F/N L/N. I hope everyone read the introductory email that was sent out. A lot more of her background details are shared there. She will be working with Dr. Burke and Iwaizumi on the medical team. Make her feel welcome, she’s traveled a long way to officially join our team.” He pushes you out a bit in front of the group. “Don’t know what more I can add after that introduction. Especially if you’ve already gotten my full government records shared via email, from the sounds of it. But if anyone hasn’t gotten a chance to read it, feel free to come ask any questions. I am an open book. I’m practicing my Japanese, so any guidance is deeply appreciated if I make any mistakes. I’m in your care, I look forward to getting along with all of you.” You smile and bow to the team. 

The team runs through introductions and begins breaking out into groups to get back into practice. A few players linger back to chat with you excited for a new face in the group.

“Finally, a friendly and pretty addition to the team. Amen!” says the blonde setter you watched earlier. “We welcome your much needed presence on the otherwise stoic and unappealing sidelines. Miya Atsumu at your service.” He reaches his hand out with a wink. You shake his hand with a chortle “Whaaat? You’re telling me you don’t enjoy Coach Foster’s dashing looks and heart stopping smile? Come on now. Or is it that you haven’t earned his infamous dimples yet?” You quirk an eyebrow at the setter who’s looking between you and Coach Foster in shock. “DIMPLES??!” He’s immediately trying to force eye contact with Coach, who’s rapidly walking away with a grumble. Snaps his head back at you “You must tell me more. The beast of the ice land giving out smiles? What is this preferential treatment and how do we enjoy this Y/N-san?” “That’s Dr. L/N to you. Some of us are just born with it” teasingly you huff on your fingers, buffing them out on your shoulder “but I can try to teach you my ways, Atsumu-san.”  “Sticking it to you on her first day. I like her” Sakusa Kiyoomi flashes you a thumbs up, while Atsumu crosses his arms pouting on the side. “I’m Sakusa Kiyoomi, nice to meet you Doctor. Good luck fixing the mental psyche that is this kid trapped in a man’s body.” He gestures to Atsumu, and before you can break up the fight to say that’s not how sports therapy works, a boisterous laugh erupts behind you. The laugh bounces off the walls, the sound registering itself in a secure corner of your brain, holding tight so you don’t forget the sound. Scratching all the right parts. Everyone turns around to see Iwaizumi with his head back laughing before calming down to a chuckle. “I like her too, especially if she can wrangle some of you idiots this quickly. Dr. L/N is well equipped to be helping with training materials and guidance as well. She’s an athletic trainer first before you have to knock on her office door. We’ll be working together on a lot, make sure to pay attention to her and don’t give her grief…” he pauses for a second to look over at you, who’s got a strong grip on the back of Atsumu’s jersey to hold him back from Sakusa who’s found himself behind Bokuto. “Or give her all the grief. She can handle it” he finishes with a smirk and a pat on your head before walking off to assist the players on court. “....are we all going to ignore THE Iwaizumi Hajime belly laughing and teasing the new girl? Like we’re all going to scream about this at the welcome party right?” The large player protecting Sakusa, points back at the retreating trainer with his thumb questioning the group. Shocked nods from the whole group before returning their attention to you. You let go of your hold on Atsumu’s jersey with a huff.

“You guys keep mentioning a party but I haven’t gotten a proper invite. Who are you welcoming if I’m not there?” you chuckle looking at the boys. 

The large player steps forward with a hand outstretched “Bokuto Koutaro, feel free to call me Koutaro! I should be surprised that you didn’t receive your invite, but considering we left that to Inu-san, it all makes sense.” The libero raises his hands in the defensive “I mixed up the order of names in the email. I forgot the first name last name thing.” Bokuto shakes his head with a chuckle “We’ll be heading out together after practice, feel free to join us. Can’t have the guest of honor not join.” “It’s time to get back to practice, boys. You can interrogate the doc later” Hinata Shoyo pipes up. He’s got a playful smirk as he rallies the boys away from you. “Take the time you need to collect yourself doctor” he sing songs while walking away. You can begin to feel the prickles of heat at the tips of your ears after the boys leave. Iwaizumi’s head pat had left you stunned, the warmth of the gesture gave you butterflies. You were not sure what to make of any of it, but wanted to make sure you didn’t give anything away on your face. You thought you got away with it, but Shoyo always notices everything. I’ll deal with him later.

It’s not often that you get flustered, let alone from someone you just met. But Iwaizumi-san’s playfulness caught you off guard. From most of the reports from Coach Foster, the trainer was described as reliable, diligent, and stern. But the man in front of you was charming, attentive, respectful, and expressive. And extremely easy on the eyes. 

Despite being surrounded by all the players, you often found your eyes peering over at your colleague. Half the fun of watching the rest of practice was watching Iwaizumi-san in action. You observed as Iwaizumi walked around the sidelines of the court observing each practice group. Helping correct posture mid play to ensure safety. Check in on stretching sessions, to help players with new stretches that would better help pains they were dealing with. Eyes drinking in the sight of the trainer showing new stretches, bending down as each muscle in his legs flex. His shorts riding up slightly from the stretch of his thick thighs having you gulping a ghost of a frog stuck in your throat. Thoughts of your hands running across the expanse of his back before wrapping around his shoulders. Pausing your court observation to physically wave away inappropriate thoughts. Crushes aren’t a new concept but this was something you hadn’t felt since you were in middle school being hit with puberty’s wrath. 

It’s not that he wasn’t all the characteristics Coach had shared, he was all that and more. Often stopping by your spot on the sidelines to point out other players and their common concerns and where additional consulting later would be beneficial. Each time, Iwaizumi-san would make some type of contact with you, that would send you into a mental frenzy. Hand on the edge of your seat, fingers barely grazing your knee as he peered over your notebook. His shoulder bumping against yours as he pointed out certain players to you. Hands grabbing both your shoulders to turn you to bring your attention to a play happening across the court, grateful for your long sleeve shirt covering the goosebumps on your arms. Stand up girl, you are a grown woman!! You’re granted a respite from the internal chaos when Coach sends Iwaizumi to the captain to talk about player rotations.

Albeit your teenage heart palpitations, the rest of practice went smoothly. Iwaizumi-san and you had fallen into an effortless rhythm. After observing group dynamics and game play, you had taken notes on a few of the players. On your way over to the trainer to get his thoughts on some workout routine adjustments, your attention is brought to the court.

The team had been caught up in serve practices which was beginning to frustrate some of the players. Coach Foster had always advocated for every player running really difficult plays or shots, repetitively. Not only to build up a repertoire of skills, but he believed that the difficulty and frustration brings out a truth in how a player handles a challenge. Today he was keen on having everyone run hybrid serves, not knowing which serve he would call out mid jump. The purpose of the hybrid serve is psyching out the opposing team, and control of the court mid air. It always starts as a jump serve, but he would then call out other styles to see how well the players can control their wrist movements. It’s an exhausting drill, especially because Coach has upped the ante and placed a water bottle along the attack lines and boundary lines of the court. He was now calling out locations for the players to aim to hit. Although there were some successes, the majority of the players were missing the targets with incomplete serves from not knowing which command the Coach would call out.

At the moment of another missed target, a loud cry rang through the court. Everyone peered over to see that the usually calm Sakusa-san was bent over muttering to himself before turning to shout. “It’s not enough time! You’re not maintaining any pattern in the serve switches and the locations. No one can serve these ridiculous plays.” He was huffing with clenched fists, wild eyes scanning the Coach’s face for any reaction. Sakusa-san had been playing calmly the entire day, but you had noticed he often went to the side for individual practice. He’d often repeat the same plays for a long time before being called for a group practice. “You’re analyzing the serve too much Sakusa-san. Listen for the location, your grip will adjust to the serve style that matches the location.” The advice had slipped out of your mouth while taking notes. You hadn’t meant to say anything and look up to the group staring at you. Coach had a small smile on his face and a glint in his eyes. Realization dawning on you on the reason he was relentless with this specific drill for the team. But before either of you could express anything Sakusa-san interrupted with a short laugh. “And what would you know about this? This isn’t a matter of an injury messing with my psyche or some childhood trauma rearing its head. This is a matter of game play. I don’t need advice from someone who doesn’t know what they’re talking about” he sneered. You could see a flash of regret on his face after the outburst. He was at a peak of burnout from the intense practice, but Coach Foster steps in between you both. He tosses you a ball and points to the service line. “On my whistle” he demands. Years later and you still know better than to question him when that tone comes out. With a sigh you hand your notes to Iwaizumi-san who’s failing at controlling his face, a mix of concern and confusion. “It’s been a long time you old fart…if I embarrass myself…” he hears you grumble to yourself as you get in position. Iwaizumi carefully watches as the boys on the court make way and you stand a few feet behind the serve line. Gathering your hair up in a ponytail, you stretch your arms before picking back up the ball. Your entire demeanor has changed from the contemplative and playful person he’s been watching throughout the day. He doesn’t know why, but he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you since you walked into the office. Everything about you intrigues him, makes him want to know every detail about the person before him who’s full of surprises. Every time he thinks he understands, you shock him. 

Just like now, as he watches you crouch and nod to Coach. Launching the ball high, taking two long strides before jumping on the third step. And jump you did, pulling all the air around you, right out of his lungs, bringing the court to a still as you went up. Coach’s command for a float serve follows before the whistle shrill has fully faded. Then comes the location, left corner of the attack line. Your grip adjusts on instinct, waiting for the height to fall a bit before making contact with your palm evenly. Your eyes don’t leave the targeted water bottle as you drop down. The ball makes clean contact to topple the bottle with a reverberating smack. You land on your feet harshly, forgetting about the worn out shoes you were wearing. Losing your balance from the lack of traction, you feel yourself slip, but you feel broad hands slide under your arms catching you from the back. Back thumping into someone’s chest, you tilt your head back to see Iwaizumi-san flashing you the largest grin, lit up from the back by the overhead lights causing a light halo around him. Pretty. You can hear your heart beating in your ears from the sudden physical activity, but it picks up speed. A blush spreads across your cheeks as you slip a little and lean back into his chest for support. “Easy there tiger, I got you” he says, easily straightening you up. The casual petname sending you into an embarrassing spiral. Immediately turning your face out of his vision, you’re trying to regain composure. He’s checking to make sure you aren’t injured as you remember now’s not the time to be simping for your hot colleague. But it’s time to be pissed at a pompous old man who’s always got you marching to his tune. You scan the court finding the target for your death stare chucking on the sidelines. “A float serve you demonic maniac?! And if Iwaizumi-san here hadn’t been my knight in shining armor to catch me, and I busted my ass in front of everyone? Then what?” You’re shaking your fist at Coach, who’s chuckle has grown to a full laugh as he walks over. Despite his laughs, he makes sure to check your ok, chastising your shoe choice before turning to the shocked group of players. “Let me reintroduce her, Dr. Y/N L/N, former setter and a 2x Women’s World Championships winner. Now the Physical Therapist for the MSBY Black Jackals. My former player.” He proudly announced to Sakusa who’s gone pale. Arms crossed waiting for the shock to subside. Kissing your teeth you politely step in front of Coach to end the embarrassment, keeping at bay a swell of warmth over the pride he has in you. “Please don’t brag about me to literal Olympians and Pro players. I’m retired, rusty, not on their level and not here to teach them a lesson. But Sakusa-san, my advice was purely in reference to your exhaustion. You were overthinking. I apologize for overstepping.” You shoot him a reassuring smile and reach out with your fist as an extension of friendship. He bows and reaches out to fist bump sheepishly. “But next time you want to cut me to the core, pick something more truthful and scathing. I like a challenge.” You tease with a wink drawing a small groan from the player as he covers his face with his free hand. 

The court erupts with a thousand questions and comments all at once. A swarm of giant bodies covering you before you can step out of the danger zone. A bronzed hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you out and into a familiar chest, thumping into Iwaizumi-san with a small huff. His other hand finds your waist to balance you; eyes look up into his olive ones that flash with an expression you can’t read. Clearing your throat, you glance at both his hands holding you, before he releases you with a quick apology. Hands up in defense, but his lips curling up into a smirk as the flush on your face grows. The lingering heat from his hand on your waist has every nerve ending in your brain going off. You mutter a thank you, shy now that the object of your disturbance was back to being front and center. No longer able to stop yourself from looking at him from top to bottom. Tall, dark, and handsome to a tee. Everything about him was broad and strong. Brain short circuiting just thinking of those same hands and body fully wrapped around yours, had you not had a modicum of dignity. Dignity be damned right now, may as well shoot my shot later. Brought out of your thoughts with a small cough from the trainer. “We can look at each other all we want tonight, but it’d be nice to talk properly and learn more about you. Especially so you can share any other secrets you’re holding on to Dr. Extraordinaire” he ruffles your hair lightly with a soft smile. Whatever witty retort on its way out your lips, caught in your throat, when he leans down to whisper in your ear “Can’t say I haven’t been enjoying checking you out the whole day too”. He relishes in the deep flush across your face and the tingle on his lips from grazing your ear. But when he sees your eyebrows furrow he panics a bit. Did he cross a line while caught up in the new feeling of butterflies in his stomach? Maybe he had read the situation completely wrong and you hadn’t been checking him out. Trying to gauge from your expression if he’s about to deal with a gnarly HR complaint, he sees your bottom lip stick out in a pout.

“You’re telling me I’ve been working hard taking notes all throughout practice to share with you when I could have been checking you out openly?” You swat at his chest before turning away from the man. “Coach definitely put my information in that intro email so not really a secret to spill if it was blasted out. Can’t fault me for no one reading it.” Your shrug met with Iwaizumi gaping at you. Rubbing the back of his neck before mumbling something about skimming the email, unaware how cute the whole moment is to you. Happy to know it’s not just you feeling nervous around the man, you throw caution to the wind. “Besides, I have way more fun secrets to learn than that, Iwa-chan~” you glance over your shoulder, looking up at the man through your lashes. Lips curling up into a coy smile as a light flush blooms across the man’s face from the choice of nickname sung out teasingly. The group of players snapping you both out of your bubble with the announcement of the end of practice and hitting the showers to get ready for the welcome party. You start to walk back to the office to grab your things when his voice calls out to you. “Hajime” You turn around to look at him. “Call me Hajime.” 

He catches up with you and gently places a hand on the small of your back to guide you to the shared office. “We can walk together, don’t want to waste another minute not learning.” He glances down with a smile hearing you giggle, a sound he pockets in a corner of his brain to hold on to forever. 

But definitely one he plans to hear throughout the night if he can help it.

[sleepershell]

But You

word count: 2538

summary: after months of babysitting for Steve Harrington, you catch him in a soft moment and the two of you finally do what you've been craving to do

pairing: f!babysitter!reader x dilf!steve

content: fluff, angst, age gap, jokes, smut, cunnilingus

You’d been his babysitter for a few months, watching over little junior on the occasional evenings Mr. Harrington (Steve? You still weren’t sure what to call him) went out. Most times the routine was the same, you’d be paid for the full four hours he’d hired you for, but he’d never last longer than two. It seemed rude to pry but, eventually, the ice was broken. One of those rare nights you’d actually gotten junior to bed before Mr. Harrington’s arrival, he came in and promptly opened a can of beer while counting out the bills to hand you. And then he sighed, and said it hadn’t gone well. You’d nodded, scrunched your mouth up in a look of friendly pity. It hadn’t been so clear what the right thing to say was, so you’d lingered just a little longer than usual, sitting in the heavy silence.

So you were shocked on the late November evening that Mr. Harrington remained out far past the time you’d put junior to bed, leaving you almost dozing as you watched Seinfeld reruns on his couch. When the clock read eleven, you muttered an impressed “go Mr Harrington,” thinking the date must’ve gone well. There was a gnawing in your gut, one that you wished would go away. But you could never get out of your head those threads of memory that stirred something inside you. The heat of his hand when it brushed yours to hand you cash, the mole on that slip of skin you could see when he lifted his arms to stretch, the way his eyes lit up when he spoke to his son… All your friends teased you for having a crush on the guy you babysat for to make some extra cash. And while it was probably pathetic and ridiculous, you didn’t want to give it up.

Sometime around midnight the door clattered open. You pursed your mouth, prepared to wolf whistle at his apparent success, but the light mood was broken when your gaze landed on him. His eyes were downcast and there was no joy on his face. His entrance to the living room was accompanied by the wafting smell of alcohol. Not his usual cheap beer, the smell of liquor, maybe whiskey? You stood, taking a step to meet him.

“Mr. Harrington, are you alright?”

“Steve.” He gritted, rubbing his eyes with a heavy hand.

“Right, er, Steve…” it felt intrusive to repeat the question, but he’d leaned onto the island between the living room and kitchen, his back facing you. “It’s late?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll pay you more than usual.”

“No, it isn’t that.” He hadn’t moved, so you took a few steps closer, not quite close enough to put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just realizing I’m probably going to screw up every date I ever go on,” he straightened up, meeting you with a sarcastic nod, “but yeah, totally okay.”

You blinked at him. You’d heard sarcasm from him before but never meanness.

He deflated, all the air in his chest leaving him in a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, y/n, I’m being a dick.” He shook his head at himself, walking around to the other side of the island, toward the fridge. “Do you want a beer?”

“Sure.” You placed your palms on the island. Most nights you’d say no, knowing that he was only asking to be polite as he got one of his own. That night, a deep sadness exuded from him. And maybe he needed a friend, you thought. You were halfway through the can before you decided to break the silence. “What happened?”

He shrugged, exasperated. “The same thing as always.”

“So, she didn’t like you?” You asked, hoping to rip through the pain as easily as one could, like a band-aid.

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “No. She liked me.”

“Oh.” You took a sip of beer. “You didn’t like her?”

“No, she was fine.” He approached the fridge. “Real pretty, and smart.”

He placed another beer next to you before cracking his own, despite you having more than a third of the first one left.

“Well, what, then? Did something happen?” He’d clearly been out much later and been either at someone’s home or a bar. “Was the sex bad?"

He choked on his beer, looked at you wide-eyed. Then, slowly, “You think I’m having sex with all these women?”

You shrugged, nodded your head. Didn’t feel right to add that you thought he only got that far sometimes.

“Well, as much as that flatters me, no. I’m not.”

“Why not?” He was hot, relatively well off, and funny. It made no sense why he’d struggle making it with the ladies. He wasn’t even really that old—only thirty-six.

“Well,” he turned to you, his face animated as though he had so much to say, but then stopped. Stopped so abruptly that his mouth hung slightly open. “Well, I don’t know.”

“Is it because you can’t bring them here?”

“Of course not. They usually want to have a nightcap at their house. Or a hotel.”

“And you say… no?” He was really starting to confuse you.

“Well, yeah, I just tell them I have to get back because the babysitter has to go home.”

“But I never have to go home. I could do overnights, if that helps. I’m sorry if you’ve been afraid to ask me.” Your words came out too fast.

“I know. No, I-“ he sighed again, leaned an arm against the counter and the other hand on his hip. “It’s an excuse.”

“Thanks for this.” You were opening your second beer. “Why don’t you want to sleep with them?”

“They’re just, I don’t know, I used to have no problem but since I’ve had to have a sitter for junior it just…” he made a waving gesture, “complicates things.”

The way his eyes looked slightly up at you from under his brow—something was different. You felt like his eyes were seeing way more of you than usual. A prickling heat rose up your neck, between your thighs. It couldn’t be that he… “I don’t understand.”

“Ah fuck, nevermind, y/n, I’m s—I’m sorry I let myself unload on you like that I’m just having a rough night. Thanks for getting junior to bed.” He leaned back against the counter and was looking worse for wear. Tired, and you could tell these beers were closer to his last than his first.

You felt the absence of his penetrating gaze so fully that you reached out. Placed a hand on his arm.

“Oh, fuck,” he said, face gone pale. And then he took off toward the bathroom to unload the night’s debauchery. You followed with a cup of water. He was on the cream tiled floor, flushing just as you approached. “I’m so sorry, I haven’t done this in years. You should go home.”

Instead you sat down on the closed toilet lid, extended the glass to him. “I put junior to bed, I can put you to bed, too, Mr. Ha— Steve.” He groaned, leaning his head on the lip of the pedestal sink.

He protested but let you follow him to his room. It was messier than you’d expected. The rest of the house was always pretty tidy but he had clothes strewn about and on the floor. It was a bad idea, you knew. You were stepping into the bedroom of your employer that you had the major hots for. But he was letting you, and seemed maybe like he was looking for the same thing. As you stared in wonder at the room you’d never let yourself peek into, Steve plopped onto his bed.

“Is that how you sleep?” You asked.

“Huh?” He looked down at himself. Then back up at you. “No.”

This was a turning point. You could turn back. It was probably the last chance before you ran the risk of losing your weekend gig with the sweetest kid and his sweetest dad and the best pay. But the beer was warm in your belly, and you didn’t drink often, which made your brain feel all the more beautiful and fuzzy when you did.

“You should get comfortable.”

Slowly and with a frown, as if he expected at any moment you would yell at him to stop, he pulled off his sweater and the t-shirt below it at once. He was fit, as though he’d once been really lean but had gained an extra covering of flesh. It was nice. And his chest was harrier than you’d expected—very 70s. Then he dropped and kicked away the jeans he’d been wearing, leaving him in his boxers. You nodded at the bed, and he climbed under the comforter. A weight lingered in your gut, heavy mass of all the fear your body wanted you to feel. But your mind was so light and happy, and you wanted to, so you stepped forward, dropped your own jeans to the ground, and climbed into the bed next to him. Clad in the huge t-shirt you’d worn, you were still hidden from sight but the message you’d given was very, very clear: you can do me now, Mr. Harrington.

One hand rested over his eyes as you laid side by side, both facing the white ceiling above.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t sleep with your dates.”

He groaned, moved his hand and turned onto his side to look at you. His sleepy gaze pinned you where you were, only your face turned to look at him. Touch me, touch me, touch me, your skin screamed.

“I can’t sleep with them. I can’t when I know I’m coming home to you.”

“Steve.” You reached up a hand, brushed one finger along his bottom lip. His eyes closed at the contact. You moved your hand down, dipping below the covers, and found his hardness there, straining against the fabric of his boxers. He sucked in a breath.

“Y/n, don’t… you don’t have to—“

“Jesus, shut up Steve.” His eyes went wide. You’d never spoken to him like that. Of course you hadn’t, you were his babysitter. “I want to.”

His eyes searched as you turned toward him, letting your hand press into him while the other found his chest. You could feel the whorls of hair there, softer than you’d have expected. His cock, on the other hand, was so hard and so hot. He ground into your hand at the contact, and then lost whatever composure he must’ve been maintaining even while drunk.

“Fuck, I want you.” His hand were like fire trailing down your waist, catching on you like tinder, grabbing tight. And then they climbed up, grasping your tits. He groaned, brows raised and looked at you in surprise at the lack of barrier. As if he hadn’t ever noticed that you never wore a bra to babysit at the Harrington’s, when you knew damn well he had. Your t-shirt was a pile on the floor seconds later, and his hands splayed on your back, holding your chest to his face. He was so involved with them that he didn’t seem to notice when he sucked just hard enough to elicit your mewling. He held tight as his tongue flicked against the hard point of your nipple. “So soft.”

And then he was trailing down the plane of your stomach below the comforter, toward the part of you that was pressed now between your thighs in anticipation of the pleasure. And then he stilled and stopped. And started to laugh.

“Steve, what’s going on?” You whined. Oh god, your stomach dropped, what was so ugly that he was laughing?

“Well, I’m kind of concerned. You know it isn’t Monday, right?” He poked his head out from below the covers, looking smug.

“Oh god.” You plopped your hands over your face. You’d stupidly thought it was safe to wear a not-cute pair of panties today, opting for the clean “Monday” pair, which was white with green flowers printed on it.

“No, I like it.” He tucked a finger under the elastic, ran it between the edge and your skin. “It’s cute.”

You wanted to protest, but then his face was pressed to the white and green cotton, hard. He breathed deeply, sucking in the smell of you and providing enough pressure to bring you right back to attention.

“You smell so good.” He crooned, and started to tug the garment off you.

“Steve I’m, er, I didn’t shave.” You said, voice small.

He poked back out, flashing a toothy smirking. “That’s great, I love bush.” And winked. Jesus, what an idiot.

Your legs were gently, fuck, so gently, spread, and there was a moment free of sensation. Desire stirred at your core. He was looking right at it.

“So beautiful.” His voice made a sound escape your throat. A finger ran over your slit. “And so wet.”

His mouth was insane. He kissed your cunt up and down with a reverence you would have imagined to be reserved for spiritual practices. He breathed you in, each time with a groan, placing kisses on your thighs and folds until you thought you were going to burst. And then, just a moment before you would’ve begun to beg for it, he ran his tongue lightly over your clit, and your legs spasmed in response.

You reached above your head to grasp the wooden headboard and screwed your eyes shut as Steve responded to your movements. He was so in tune with your cries, kept steady when you squirmed, moved on when you’d gone more quiet. There was a building pressure coiling in your pelvis somewhere, tightening with every minute that he languorously stroked at the point of sensation in you. Your panting intensified as the coil neared the point of snapping. And then you heard Steve fucking Harrington’s ridiculous moan, and it all let go. All of the pent up pleasure released like a flood through your every limb. You thrust your hips forward, chasing the orgasm for as long as the wave would carry you. And when it was over, you lay in its wake, panting still.

You were distantly aware of Steve standing up, putting on some music.

“I doubt we’ll wake him, but I’d rather not scar the kid for life.” He said, appearing next to you in bed. He was propped on one arm, smiling down at you, when you opened your eyes to get a glance of him. “Hey, beautiful.” His lips were slightly more red than usual.

“It lasted forever. That was the longest orgasm I’ve ever had.” You said, giggling, still in awe over it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

He grinned down at you, lowering his eyes to your lips as he began singing in a half-whisper to Love my Way by The Psychedelic Furs.

“I love this song.”

His singing became a hum when his lips found the soft planes of your jaw, your neck, the line of your clavicle. His wonderful hair fell forward, brushing like butterfly kisses on your skin.

"Wanna do it again?"

[zer05trange]

Roaring Sea

VII. On Ice

⋆｡°✩ (childe x fem!reader)✩°｡⋆

⋆｡°✩ wc: 2.4k

⋆｡°✩warnings: none for this chapter!

⋆｡°✩ series masterlist

It’s cold. Snezhnaya is unforgiving, per usual. But something is different about the cold this year. Something about going to sleep and waking up in a cold bed, or walking outside and feeling the wind bite your face harsher than normal, it feels different.

When you carelessly burnt your finger in the oven, you could only feel the icy burn that came with it. Alternatively, the word “cold” in your life could be switched with "numbness". That’s all you’ve felt, numb. An overwhelming numbness overcame you, and you knew exactly why.

One month. You can’t pinpoint it exactly, but it was approximately one month since he left you that night. You don’t blame him, you demanded that he leave and he listened. And you can’t necessarily blame yourself either. It was terrifying, what you saw, and what you learned. Witnessing it was like a whiplash, so sudden and violent, yet there was little you could’ve done to stop it. Everything happens for a reason, and Celestia wanted you to see what you did at that moment. Whilst thinking over the situation, an old lullaby circled through your head:

You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice. The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again.

It’s not like he promised you anything, but he did lie. And in Snezhnaya, lying is condemnable. It rang around in your head when you thought of his face that night outside of your home. It swam around while he tried to talk with you the day after. And it carried over for the weeks it took you to mull over it. 

Yet, you’ve begun to miss him. Begun may be a stretch, because mere hours after he left, you realized that his presence would be missing from your life. And having someone that you spend so much time with to be ripped away within minutes really does something to a person. 

You spent a good amount of your time walking through the city, trying to find any trace of him. You even kept an eye on the Fatui meandering about downtown, making sure that none of them took a second glance at you. And they didn’t, besides their usual patrols through the city.

After your conversation with Teucer, Tartaglia's lies became more evident to you. Tartaglia wasn’t in Liyue to make and sell toys. He was in Liyue for the Tsaritsa’s bidding, and most likely causing chaos and slaughtering human beings while at it. But you kept the secret, you care for Teucer beyond the bounds of Tartaglia, and Teucer does not need to know the gruesome details of what his brother did for a living. But he gave you an answer, at least. 

Tartaglia went off to Liyue, away from Snezhnaya. Away from you.

You found this out a little over a week after he left your apartment. It had been three weeks since you found it out by now, so by doing simple math, you haven’t seen him in over a month. 

It sucked. It didn’t take you too long to realize why it sucked too. You felt deeper feelings for Tartaglia. Feelings that transcended a crush or a situationship, and you knew it was called love. You don’t like calling it love due to your pride, and you discovering his secret job , so you attempt to not think about the word.

It’s hard not to think about it, though. The man you realized you love was now in a different country. He left for work, and he left when you drove him away. He wouldn’t come back to you and your bakery unless it was for his brother. Even then, the only traces you’d see of him would be through the eyes of Teucer.

It took you weeks to process your emotions and what occurred that night in your apartment. You let Ivan run the shop for a while, before finally getting yourself downstairs and interacting with your customers first hand. So after some time, you began to reinstate a routine in your life. You woke up, began baking, ran your shop until it closed, and you finally found yourself outside in Snezhnaya’s winter.

The bakery closed a few hours ago, so once you ate something warm, you made your way down the river-front of the city. You located your normal spot, which is against a cement wall that served as a protective barrier between the mainland and the harbor. There’s a small barrel with a gas lantern next to you, put there to guide light to crews and guards that walked about the harbor when the sun died out for the day. You use it to stay alive, because though you dress with multiple layers, the icy weather wasn’t something to play with. You slide down the wall, and curl yourself up into a ball with your head facing toward the river. 

A cargo boat begins to take off south of the river, which means that it was going toward Liyue or Sumeru to give the limited goods it had to offer. Through your time gazing at the river, you watched a fair share of ships enter and exit the harbor. Most of which being cargo ships due to the lack of Fatui on board, and they always have an emblem on the side that signified it was carrying goods rather than people. 

Though occasionally, you see the Fatui ships. Its black and blue flags could be seen for miles, the way the corners are cut into crisp edges seem as though they could cut the evening breeze air in half. Many agents stood on board, and you could see the massive amount of people on deck from miles away. When they loaded off the ship, they came off confident, victorious, and intimidating. Each time a troop walked past your sitting form, you straightened up in a sitting position. 

As soon as the cargo ship takes off, you see a Fatui ship come up from the south. It’s larger than the usual Fatui ships, which is saying something considering their usual grandiose size, and its sails are imprinted with an unusual logo. You’ve never seen the emblem before, but you can tell it’s different from miles away. You watch it slowly make its way toward the harbor, its size growing with each stride it took. 

A group of armed Fatui guards notice the ship itself, and stand themselves at the edge of the harbor. You don a confused look on your face, though you’ve seen a couple of Fatui ships in your spare evenings, you never saw a protocol like this being taken. As the ship neared its landing, more and more agents began to surround the loading area. 

The ship docks and once in a safe position, agents begin to get off the ship. The guarding Fatuu stand still at the edge of the dock, creating an aisle for the agents to walk through. You can’t see much due to the barrier the agents made, but you were correct in your assumption that there was quite a large amount of agents on board. It seems like a parade of members are flowing out of the boat and onto the harbor. 

A legionnaire, who was standing guard for the past thirty minutes, finally catches sight of you. He starts his way over to you, with big booming steps and his gun held in his arms. 

“Citizens should not be out here, you will need to leave the premises,” His deep voice sends a chill down your spine. His large and muscular frame blocks any sight of what’s happening behind him, as he’s essentially cornered you against the wall. A feeling of fear creeps up within you, and you begin to think of how you’re going to get out of this situation.

“Stand down, she can stay,” A voice is heard from behind the man, which causes him to turn around and face the voice. You note that now the legionnaire has the air of fear coming off of him, almost like he’s trembling, and you wonder who could have the power to incite that fear in a Fatui agent. 

The legionnaire scurries off, leaving you to face the person you couldn’t quite make out. From your sitting point, you can’t see the person’s face unless you look up. They’re nicely dressed, with a long and gray trench coat decorated in Fatui medals and pins. They have black gloves that match their pants and shoes, and a large, red scarf covering most of their neck. But when you look up, they take off their mask, and it’s the familiar face of the man who couldn’t get out of your mind. 

“I won’t bother you, I just didn’t want one of my men giving you any trouble,” He backs away, noticing how your face changed from one of fear to one of defense. You look down at the wooden ground beneath you, as he turns away from you. But you can’t let it end like this, not out of a simple favor to get some legionnaire to leave you alone. You’re too stubborn for that. 

“Wait,” You can’t stop yourself from speaking, your head jerking up to look at him. He turns around slowly, and watches as you nudge your head to the side, motioning for him to sit next to you. He obliges, and you hear him slide down the wall next to you. You sit in silence for a bit. Not knowing what to say, or what to do, but if he was here, you’re going to take advantage of it.

“How did you know it was me?” You ask, your face looking forward toward the water. 

“I noticed when we were coming in,” He responds, also looking straight ahead, “I wouldn’t mistake you.” 

You notice that though his face looks ahead, his hands are fiddling with his gloves. You straighten your back and cross your arms, huffing out a breath and seeing it puff out of your mouth.

“You could die out here,” He speaks up, seeing your body’s reaction to the cold. 

“I like watching the harbor,” You curtly answer, your eyes catching onto two jumping fishes in the river. He doesn’t answer you, instead letting his hands fall in his lap and his eyes look toward the dock. By now, the harbor was almost empty, all the Fatui agents traveled back to their own respective camps. For a few minutes, you watch fish hop in and out of the water, and you don’t dare look toward Tartaglia’s way. 

He clears his throat, taking a deep inhale before sighing it out.

“It’s Ajax,” You hear him say. 

“What?” For the first time, you turn your eyes his way. He has a little bit of dried blood under his ear, where his signature earring dangles. Unfortunately, for your conscience, he’s still as beautiful as ever, and the moonlight makes him glow in a way you only saw once. 

“My name, my real name, is Ajax,” He mutters. 

“Oh,” You stop to think about it. It’s a pretty name, one that fits the man more than his many aliases you discovered. 

“It’s a nice name,” You remark, “I wish I could’ve known you as Ajax.” You didn’t mean to sound harsh when you said it, but you could tell that Tar– Ajax took it the wrong way. 

“Wait I’m sorr–”

“No need to apologize, I deserved it,” He brushes off with a chuckle before taking another deep breath, “I don’t think you know how sorry I am. About everything.”

“I don’t,” You respond honestly.

A few minutes of silence pass, and you interject it since he hadn't spoken up to defend himself, "Do you want to prove it?"

“Yes,” He says without missing a beat, his face turning to yours.

“I’ll give you the time,” You look back at him, so he can see how serious you are, “But I have some conditions.”

He smiles at your approach to the situation. He doesn’t think you could ever get out of your business-like mindset. It’s a part of what he fell for, after all.

“I don’t want you to die, Ajax. You can’t die, I care about you too much for you to go off and get killed,” You take in a breath, “And I want you to think more about what you’re doing. You need to be more conscientious of the decisions you make.”

He chuckles, just like how he would when you’d make a remark about the way he’d do something stupid while baking. But this time it was his life, and the lives of others, he could tell you weren’t joking about it.

“You don’t have to worry about me dying. I’m the best, after all,” Ajax remarks, adding a more upbeat tone to the conversation.

“Don’t be arrogant,” You calmly snap at him, “And one more thing.” 

“Yes, Y/N?”

“You can’t lie anymore,” You look into his eyes, darkened by years of Fatui work. 

“Never again,” He responds. 

You think of the lullaby yet again, but before you can hold out your pinkie finger, he beats you to it. You interlock yours with his, in a childish way of setting a promise. 

“If not, I’ll freeze your tongue off, and way worse,” You say with a small smile on your face, and he laughs yet again. He pulls his pinkie away from yours, and brings his arm around you, pulling your shivering body closer to him. Your head falls onto his shoulder, nuzzling into his soft coat. His head rests against yours, his hair intermingling with your strands. 

It will take time, but you will make things work. Both of you will. Celestia creates things to fall into place, and with his endless determination, and your stubborn nature, there’s no doubt that the two of you can help her create what the two of you want together.

⋆｡°✩a/n: one more chapter!!! They made up :))) Thank y'all for reading!!!

⋆｡°✩tag list: @inlovewithlondonn @zamorazz @ay4tou @kur0melon @boomie-123 @esthelily @i-simp-for-giyuu @itsflowerdomethings @whatamidoing89 @luvrkise @ninjaartsimping