#unfiltered and unedited thoughts

[technicolorsnowflake]

Furiously reblogging every post of @newbluud I catch made me realise, that this is my little corner of the internet and I can fill it with as much garbage, amazing art (You know it is amazing and you cannot stop me from saying so) and knick-knacks that being me joy. And suddenly 'properly' engaging with Tumblr became so much easier. I can share the things I like with the people that stumble upon my little corner of the world.

[sunshinechay]

I finally finished For Him and I honestly wish it was a better show because it has one of the better representations of mental health struggles I’ve seen in a while. Intentionally or no, it had the message that if you feel you need it, seek help, that there are people who want to help you, regardless of who you are or what you have done.

Him’s mental illness is not specified but I think it’s a safe bet to go with depression. He blamed himself for Blue’s death and sank into that feeling. Rather than judge him or further blame him, his mother instead begs him to get help, to see a doctor. And he does. Lots of the time that doesn’t happen and the character in question (in this case Him) either continues to struggle or after a while is just magically cured, never to struggle again.

But Him gets help and what’s more is the narrative never blames him for needing help. The only people who look down on him for needing help are the antagonists (Te and Type). An enormous emphasis is placed on Him keeping up with his medication, with his therapy appointments. Everyone who cares for him wants Him to get better, to continue to get help if and when he needs it. It is refreshing to see and I hate that it’s buried in a story that makes little sense.

Even Blue’s suicide was done rather well or at least what I could watch of it, which was most of it.* Suicide is often a spur of the moment action. While people may think about it and there are people who makes plans right down to the day and time, more often it is just decided on in the moment. Blue struggled and in the end, he couldn’t keep going.

Blue and Him are two possible paths that a person can take. A fork in the road where each chose a different path, a path that felt right for them. Regardless of where they ended up, they had that choice to make.

I wish For Him was a better show because I love that message. I love the message that at a certain point, you need to make a choice. I won’t judge Blue for making the choice he did, he felt it was the right thing to do for him. Him chose a different path and thus the story happened. However it’s buried in a narrative that makes little sense and is a little exhausting after a while. Not many want to wade through the bs to get to that kind of message and I get that. I usually wouldn’t want to either. I only tried because I loved Nail, and surprised myself by finding this message hidden under all of it. It’s there and I wish it was louder.

*Suicide and suicide attempts are about the only thing I can’t watch without feeling sick and needing to stop so I had to skip through some of the scene.

[princessallura052]

Voltron Season 1 Thoughts (Review)

Season 1 was a very good introduction to the series. We learned a bit of each character’s base personality and went into depth with some of them such as Pidge and Allura and even bits and pieces of Shiro’s past. We got to see Voltron’s power and the Galra’s cruelty and how seeing that cruelty changed Hunk.

Shay was being oppressed and when he realised he could do something about that, Hunk grew. He stopped being a coward and scared and changed. That was amazing character development on his part.

Pidge also had some good character development this season, going from pushing everyone away to find her family to coming to realise that the team was her family. Hunk and Pidge were probably the two characters who evolved the most in this season and I love that.

I don’t support the trans Pidge headcanon. I believe Pidge was happy to be a girl but made the same decision Mulan did where she chose to pose as a boy to help her family. But she seemed miserable cutting her hair and struggled to let the others in close until she told them she was a girl. I am not super pro- LGBTQ+ but I am okay with same sex couples as long as its not turned into a fetish. However, I am anti-transgenderism. I don’t like it. No hate for the people but it makes me uncomfortable.

Hunk/Shay is adorable though. I support it. I will read it. I write it too. Keith started off interesting and I love his bad boy traits, so sexy and it made him very cool but he also feels very one-note this season. Still sexy, but I don’t like his personality very much. Shiro and Allura do really shine for me this season too though. Shiro is very strong – struggling with PTSD, which was written awesome but still being there for everyone and trying his best as leader.

And Allura, omg girl, my heart. You lost your planet, your people, your family and you’re still fighting for the greater good. Like that is true kindness. The way she helped the Balmera omg and her speech brought tears to my eyes. She definitely is my favourite this season, followed by Shiro.

Lance annoyed me. Like he’s not bad, I know but this season wasn’t really good for him or for Keith, but he’s too shallow for me to like him just yet. The parade stuff and constant flirting annoyed me a lot. I think the only time I liked him was when he defended Pidge in the first episode, like covered her mouth and all to keep her from getting in trouble. Weirdly enough, the two moments I liked him were when he was defending Pidge, once from Iverson and once from Sendak. I think I’ve always been a Plance shipper lol but never admitted it because it felt like that one odd ship.

Overall, I feel this season was a good introduction to the series but it’s not one I rewatch constantly as a whole season. Oh forgot to mention, I also liked the little snippets we got of Shiro and Keith’s brotherly bond. Keith rescuing Shiro from quarantine was probably his best moment to me in this series as well as protecting him when he had a PTSD attack. So yeah, that was sweet!

[thereindeerladyswritingblog]

I think the worst part is that i dont even think im unlovable. I know i’m worthy of love, i know that i am easy love and to be loved by. I know that i give my love freely to those around me, that i give my heart out to family and to friends and to the sweet old man who lets me cut his hair regularly. I know that every time i smile at a stranger, i hand them a piece of my heart, and every time i wave to the employees at the next store over in the eye glasses department, i am handing them a reminder that they too hold a part of me. I know that when the kids flock to me and squabble and seek out my company or my opinion, they too know they can love and be loved in return.

The problem lies not with how lovable i think i am, but in how undesirable i feel i am. I feel as though i thrust my love upon others and its not hard for them to love me in return. But nothing in me calls out to them at first glance. Nothing about me is remarkable or special or attractive. Nothing in me feels worth falling in love with. I am sunshine in the way that the sun is distant and untouchable, in the way that looking directly upon it brings pain but seeing the fruits of its labor brings joy. I am sunshine in the way that clouds blocking me out are welcomed happily and the wind blowing is a reprieve from my stifling warmth. I am sunshine in the way that i am too much on my own, but the reflection of me in the night is just fine, just right. I am sunshine in that the sun is a lone star, always seen, always cradling, always giving and caressing and loving but never, never, never being held in return.

I am easy to love because i give love freely. But i am still alone, undesirable and unwanted in full strength.

[gorejo]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

damn, wish I looked that good kicking someone. 

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

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

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

SATORU HAS A GIRLFRIEND? I’M SICKKKKKKK

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any hints as to who —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he swears he saw stars when he hears you.

 — “Me.”

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

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

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

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

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

Not, him.

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

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

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

Moments before —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dating Gojo Satoru. That would be nice. 

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

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

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

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

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

Win after fucking. And a loss without it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is there an option to decline?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"what if —"

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

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

— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Close friends. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sometimes I wish he would be —” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ahh Gojo-san! Look this way!”

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

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

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

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

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

Did he just fucking wink at me? 

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

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

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

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

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

“Gojo Satoru, I swear —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes sir,” the team harmoniously responded.

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

Sophomore year, summer —

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

It all started during your second year of university. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Starting is always the hardest, the rest is easy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it felt good — so fucking good. 

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

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

“No — ’Toru please —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—if I’m a virgin or not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were saying?” he grinned.

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

Day of finals, thirty seconds till the game starts —

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

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

“Me? Don’t know if Satoru —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tokyo (3): Kyoto (3)

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

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

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

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

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

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

the one that desperately fucked you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“good luck today,” you whispered.

Luck? he didn't need.

But you? he absolutely, detrimentally did.

Or, the latter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The key to your door opens at the exact time. 

He grins when you walk up to greet him.

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

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

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

“I have food —” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"what the fuck?" you suddenly gasped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“at least your pussy is honest.”

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tokyo (4): Kyoto (5)

Intermission before the third, final period —

A tie (6:6)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Twelve minutes till game —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From: Suguru

Don’t get mad… 

To: Suguru

You saying this makes me already mad. What happened?

From: Suguru

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

To: Suguru

I swear to god if you guys play —

From: Suguru

... it's his fault.

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

Thud! 

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

“It’s me.” You curtly announced.

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

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

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

“I’m already mad, Satoru —”

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

“Wait! What I meant was —”

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll cum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

Two minutes till game —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[elucubrare]

there's a fantasy about "perfect communication" where the other person can completely read your thoughts, and the good part of this is that there can be no misunderstanding because they know all of you and your true self. but

i don't think that those unfiltered thoughts are my "true self," to the extent that that's a real or helpful concept. my true self is the one i create - the one i want to show people, not the one that exists unedited. my true social self isn't the first, nasty, ungenerous thought that pops into my mind: it's the one that has looked at that impulse and decided, for the sake of people near me, not to voice it, or to voice it more kindly. that self isn't less true because there has been some effort involved in its creation.

[nevernonline]

✧.* twenty-seven?; ksy

synopsis: you always wanted to be considered a ‘serious’ journalist, but to get the chance at moving up the ranks and getting to produce your own stories, you’re get an idea to do one final story and impress your boss, that’s where inspiration strikes with the one and only soonyoung.

part of my ninety minute movies one shot series. ♡︎

paring: hoshi x fem! reader. 

genre: strangers2lvrs

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol, weed, cig, vape etc.) swearing, very bad jokes!, just fluffy and nice no seggsy time

word count: 8.4k

content: . non-idol idolings, some other svt members. hoshi is down bad fast xo.

note: my next little inspired movie writing is the icon that is 27 dresses. except instead of our female lead being the one in the wedding its my fav tiger (hamster) soony. I just love sappy cutie soonyoung so I apologize in advance. also unedited bc im a loser srry. it shouldn't be tew bad bc I tried to take my time lol. ily.

Finding a cozy spot at a table to the left of the bride and groom, you flipped open your notebook and started jotting down pin points on the decor, the flowers, the bride's beautiful flowing silk gown, and the way the groom looked at her with stars in his eyes. 

The first dance song rang around the room gathering all the adorned looks of friends and family watching as another couple took the leap on spending the rest of their lives together. 

A rocks glass was placed in front of your pen and paper as the chair next to her was suddenly filled with the stranger who put it there. 

“Taking notes for your own wedding?” 

“Oh. No, I'm doing a piece for the Daily on their wedding.” 

“Are you y/n l/n by any chance?” 

“I am. You’re familiar with me?” 

“Yeah, just through the bride. She’s my sister. She talks about you nonstop. I’m Soonyoung, I was the one who contacted you.” 

“I see. Nice to meet you. What’s the drink for?” 

“Working hard, I figured you should at least enjoy yourself a little bit.” 

“That’s nice. Thank you.” 

Soonyoung stared at the girl across from him, trying to catch a peak at her notes seeing if she was painting this night in a perfect light.

You caught on and shut the book quietly, giving him a small wink as a shout it would be everything his sister wanted. 

“What’s the drink?” 

“A vodka soda, lemon.” 

“So, you know my drink order? Thought you said you didn’t know who I was?” 

“I saw you at a wedding a few weeks ago, my friend Seungkwan. I noticed your drink, that's all. That’s how I got your contact actually.” 

“Lying on the first meet, a great sign. No wonder you look so familiar to me. You were the best man right? But blonde at the time?” 

“My sister would’ve killed me if I was blonde at her wedding and sorry not lying just felt creepy admitting it. 

“I liked it.” 

Soonyoung laughed remembering the conversation he had with his sister about his hair. 

“So what’s it like being in two weddings in one month, Soonyoung?” 

“Actually I’m going to be in three. Next week my coworker is getting married. Which would make my wedding count twenty-six.” 

“You’ve been to twenty-six weddings?” 

“Yep. After next week anyway. What’s your wedding count?” 

“Ones I’ve covered? Too many to count. Ones I’ve been in? Two I think. Both of my brothers are married. That’s about it.” 

“So you cover weddings but aren’t married?” 

Rolling your eyes at his unfiltered nature, you couldn’t help but feel like his question was out of curiosity and not judgment. The way his eyes searched hers for answers was genuinely adorable. 

“Almost at one point, but he cheated on me and is marrying her now. I didn’t actually become a journalist to cover weddings anyway, it sort of just happened.” 

“I see.” 

“What about you? Being at all those weddings and never getting married?” 

“No. Not even close, I was in love with the same girl for a long time, but she didn’t feel the same way.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” 

After spending the rest of your night enjoying Soonyoungs company, you bid goodbye to the bride and groom and headed back to your home to get down to working on the article. 

Digging through your black leather tote you realize you forgot to take your journal home with you, leaving it on the white table cloth being distracted by a new friend. 

Realizing you don’t have his number you took it upon yourself to stalk his social media profiles in hope you could find a way to get in contact with him, maybe he was your saving grace in taking your book for safekeeping until he could give it back to you. 

Saying fuck it for now you just began typing away about your night, thanking god or whomever that you backed up your calendar digitally when you get a clever idea to write an article still about weddings, but about the person you met who had been a groomsmen all those times. Searching for any kind of photos and videos of his past times supporting nuptials. 

All you came up with was a couple cheesing photos of him posing in his suits of many colors and types when you get the idea to go back into your own rolodex of photos and writings from weddings you’ve done in the past, noticing him standing near the bride and groom in just a few it was now safe to say he has piqued your interest even more than before. 

You decided to draft an email to your boss begging for the chance to write her an article about the types of bridesmaids and groomsmen who’ve been involved in many years of weddings as a support, if you found one person who had done so many in a short time it wouldn’t be hard to find more right? 

Before getting ready for bed you sat refreshing your email waiting for the go-ahead to investigate Soonyoung further with the excuse that it was simply just for work, it took multiple scrolls to the point where your thumb was starting to hurt from running it over the screen until she replied. 

‘Y/n, feel free to start drafting up the story. If I like it I’ll let you have more creative articles in the future. Please have it on my desk in two weeks.’

When the morning finally arrived, you had to make the rough decision to get out of bed and head to grab a coffee from the shop in your apartment lobby. Normally you’d be cuddled on your couch with your cat, spending your Saturday morning reading and watching reruns of your favorite reality shows, but much to your surprise the coffee stash you usually have stocked has dried up. 

Exiting the silver doors of the elevator a call came from the front desk attendant and you were met by a brown paper bag tied with a bow, the outside scribbled on with some crayons of silly faces and drawings of cartoon tigers, stickers of hello kitty, and a pink note taped to the handle. 

“Miss. Y/l/n! Some boy dropped this for you last night.” 

“Oh? Thank you, Max.” 

Ripping open the small note in line for your morning brew, it instantly puts a smile on your face.

‘Hi, I noticed you left this on the table. Hope it’s not weird. I dropped it off for you. Your address was inside. At least I can stalk you now. - Soonyoung (wedding guy lol)” 

Inside the bag was your planner and a few random pieces of candy thrown around. A small bookmark was placed on a page and written underneath was a date for next Thursday and the number of your new favorite subject marked ‘single seeking wedding date.’ 

After grabbing the paper cup from the barista behind the counter you whip your phone out and dial the number written inside your prized possession. 

“Hello, is this the single seeking a date?” 

“Hey, it is. Is this the cute girl who’s planner I found?” 

“I think so? I don’t know any other cute girls who like going to weddings.” 

“Are you available for drinks and a little pre-wedding party?” 

“When?” 

“Tonight.” 

“Tonight? Wow. Eager to see me again I see.” 

“I am. And I’m being bold right now which is new for me, so please don’t make me cry.” 

“Aw. But I’m sure you’re so pretty when you cry.” 

“I’m always pretty, y/n. So?” 

“Sure. Why not?” 

You heard Soonyoung gasp over the phone and drop something loud. 

“Really?” 

“Want me to take it back?” 

“No. Cool. I will.. pick you up at 6:30? We can get some drinks before and then it’s just like a casual party, but my friends are kind of fancy so maybe like nice cocktail attire. I’m sure you know.” 

“Okay. I’m sure you remember where to find me? After all, you did confess to being a stalker.” 

“Oh my god. I was kidding, don’t take me seriously. I’ll see you then.” 

“See you, Soony. Ok now I’m corny. That wasn’t meant to be a pun. Bye.” 

Hearing the boy's laughter over the phone almost gave you butterflies. 

“You’re funny. Bye.” 

Spending the rest of your normally relaxing afternoon getting ready to slyly interrogate your new friend, you decided to not go out of your way to look overly special after all you weren’t even sure this quote on quote date was anything romantic or just a way of initiating a friendship. 

Just before you leave your front door you sat to think if it was appropriate to bring along the same journal that was delivered to you the same morning, but made the conscious decision to leave it behind and not make this first night getting to know each other about you digging into his life for your own gain. 

The ride down the elevator had you inspecting yourself in its small safety mirror, fixing the very last strand of hair that felt out of place on your head, not paying any attention to the people jumping off and on from their various floors. 

When you finally stepped out into the marble covered lobby, you immediately spotted Soonyoung draped over the side of the couch holding his legs close, almost like a nervous child looking around the room and pouting because he can’t find his toy. 

When he finally locked eyes with you his childlike demeanor changed immediately into a spunky puppy, jumping up from his seat and dusting off crumbs on his pants that weren’t even there in the first place, maybe to wipe his hands from their small sweat they were undergoing. 

“Hi, y/n. You look very nice” 

“Really? So do you. Where are we headed?” 

“There’s a cool poet themed bar just like two blocks from here, I thought you’d enjoy it since you’re a writer and everything.” 

You looked at Soonyoung with wide eyes, it was a sign of how considerate he was yet again, just like the thought he put into bringing you, your planner and decorating the bag. 

His sharp brown eyes sparkled under the street lights, almost like they were reflecting stars, his baggy khaki pants with matching jacket slung perfectly over his frame, he was cute. You could admit it to yourself that something about him was magnetic and you already wanted more. 

“Y/n? Is that not your thing? I’m sorry we can do something else, I shouldn’t of assumed all writers like poetr-“ 

“Oh I’m sorry, I was distracted. Has anyone told you that you have insanely cute eyes? But yes, poetry’s cool. I’m more of a classic novel girl, but it sounds fun. Stop second guessing yourself. You’re good.” 

Your hand moved faster than your brain as you brought it up to pat him gently on his shoulder, a confirmation that you were having a good time and trying to ease his awkwardness. 

“Yeah, people have once or twice.” 

“Good. They really are cute.” 

The pink of Soonyoung’s cheeks grew into a deep red as he led you into the bar. The walls were covered in decaying pieces of paper written with words people had to get out for comfort. The smell was like the oldest library on earth, with a tinge of vanilla and vodka ringing through. 

Your brain took a moment to be present and remember all of the bad dates of your past. Maybe this wasn’t a date of your future, but if it was, he had already exceeded your expectations. 

As the waitress took your order, one Body Electric for your new friend a legit inspiration from Walt

Whitman to your choice which was a play on a Sylvia Plath poem. 

“Are you a lightweight?” 

You looked at Soonyojng not even halfway through his drink, feeling the ease and warmth of his body next

to you. 

“How can you tell?” 

“You relaxed for the first time tonight.” 

“I was nervous to hangout with you. I’m sorry. You’re just cool and pretty and I don’t know I feel like you’re way smarter than me and I’m intimidated by that sober” 

“I’m sure that’s not true. But if it’s any help I was nervous too.” 

“Really? So I have game?” 

“No. But you’re so cute I’d die if I hurt your feelings.” 

“So you’re a lightweight too?” 

“What? No way. Just honest to a fault.” 

Soonyoung smiled into the rim of his glass before taking his final sip and prompting you to finish your drink quickly, which you happily obliged. 

“Okay, on the way there.. I have to admit something. The party we’re going to is for the girl I liked before she got with this guy… it’s like unrequited love in a way.” 

“The girl you said you don’t love anymore?” 

“Yeah. I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I just wanted to see you again so I thought it was a good idea.” 

“I’m down. I’m not sure what, but I’m down.” 

“Cool.” 

“Want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? Or? I feel like it would be weird to say we were on a first date.” 

“Is this a date?” 

“Is it not?” 

“It was meant to be and it definitely is now.” 

“So pretend girlfriend, Soony?” 

“Maybe not an official girlfriend, how about… fourth date?” 

“Okay, have we had sex?” 

Soonyoung choked on his own spit which caused the two of you to end up in a fit of laughter on the street as you reached your next destination. 

“Obviously.” 

“That’s fair. I’ll tell everyone you were good.” 

“I think I love you.” 

“Shut up.” 

After spending the night waltzing around and parading your further long relationship with your fake new boyfriend to his friends in hopes to prove his fondness for his newest engaged friend has gone away even slightly. 

While maybe you were pretending to be on a date with Soonyoung, your head was spinning. If this was a fake date it was better than any date you had previously. Stepping outside to take a break from the party inside you pulled out your phone, jotting down notes and small nuggets of information you learned about Soonyoung’s past wedding experiences. 

“Taking notes on me? What are you a PI?” 

Behind you, you hadn’t realized the door you snuck out of opened and the boy had followed behind, curious if you were okay. 

“Yeah, you’re under investigation for being overly nice. Sorry.” 

“What do they say? I didn’t read them, just saw my name.” 

“Just some antidotes I want to remember. Nothing crazy.” 

“Do you want to leave? I’m starting to reach my alcohol limit and I would rather die than have you see my drunk alter ego the first time we hung out.” 

“Yeah, come on, let's go.” 

Going back through the back exit, you tripped behind Soonyoung’s tall frame grabbing onto his shoulder and giggling before he stood in the way of you hitting the ground. 

His lips were curled into a goofy smile. 

“I swear to god if you say something about me falling for you, you will get punched.” 

“How did you know?” 

“That fucking goofy smile you have on your face right now, I could just see it brewing in that head of yours.” 

“Okay, I don’t like that you’ve already figured me out. Let’s go, klutz.” 

Before you and Soonyoung could exit back into the fresh air, a familiar face appeared in front of you. Your ex boyfriend. Something about this night clicked for you, it was his party, there were so many people around and the only person from the wedding party you met was the bride. But taking a breath in and looking around the room, you realized how stupid you were to not see all the signs that this party was for him. 

“Y/n? Hoshi? Hey, how have you guys been?” 

Soonyoung still holding his arm around your shoulder gave a small back and fourth look between you and the tall boy who knew your name. 

“You guys know each other?” 

“Yep. Hi, Jihoon.” 

“I didn’t know you knew Hoshi either?” 

“Oh well we just started dating, he invited me to come hangout.” 

“Dating? Wow. I didn’t know you had time for people outside of work anymore.” 

“Jihoon, if you don’t mind we have to go now. Thank you for the open bar and this amazing time chatting, congratulations on marrying your hookup. Goodnight.” 

The start of your walk with Soonyoung was pure silence, there was an obvious elephant in the room and you could tell he was just itching to talk about it, so you decided to prompt him. 

“You’re curious aren’t you.” 

“Yes. But I don’t want to ask you to talk about it because we’re having fun. So I figured I’d try to ignore it.” 

“It’s fine. I’m curious too actually, it’s kind of funny that the girl you liked was hooking up with my boyfriend and now they’re married. And by funny I mean actually funny and we just spent the whole night not knowing that.” 

“I didn’t even know that Jihoon had a girlfriend when they first met, he never said anything about it.” 

“I don’t blame him actually, I do work way too much. I just wished he’d broken up with me instead of cheating on me for a month.” 

“When did you guys break up?” 

“Last December.” 

“Oh.” 

“It was more than a month wasn’t it?” 

“I think so.” 

“Cool, cool, cool.” 

“That’s fucked up y/n, I’m so sorry.” 

“That’s okay, we weren’t supposed to be together and his new girlfriend or future wife whatever seems like she’s really nice.” 

“She is, but she’s too nice. She does everything he wants, maybe he couldn’t handle your independence.” 

“Soony. You caught on that I’m a bad bitch?” 

“Have you met yourself?” 

“No. But, if I did I’d be obsessed with her and hate her at the same time.” 

“That’s exactly how I feel.” 

You punched his side, before stopping and realizing you had come up to your front door. Not even worried about the way your feet were aching to get out of your heeled shoes. 

“This is me.” 

“I know. I’ve been here like three times now in less than twenty-four hours. I’m starting to believe you actually think I’m stupid.” 

“Not stupid. Just silly. I’ll see you again right?” 

“I mean I did put days on your calendar to schedule out time for me.” 

“You littl-“ 

Suddenly you were cut off by Soonyoung’s hand covering your mouth to put a stop to you cursing him out. 

“I won’t take no for an answer.” 

Sinking your teeth into his hand he retreated from his momentary confidence quickly, looking at the proud smile you were sporting, pointing your well manicured finger in his face. 

“Don’t tell women to shut up, Soony.” 

“I never said shut up, you were going to call me a mean name and I’m sensitive. Go back to calling me cute.” 

“Maybe. Next time.” 

You went in for a one armed hug when all of the sudden Soonyoung came in with both arms, clinking your heads together. 

“Very smooth.” 

He liked the fact that you constantly teased him while making light of situations, regaining his confidence he pulled you into his embrace enveloping both arms around your shoulders, placing a small kiss on the part of your forehead that crashed into his. 

“I’ll see you next week.” 

“What’s next week?” 

“The wedding, check your planner. Well actually I’ll see you in two nights because we have to shop or go through your closet so we can match! Bye, y/nie.” 

Caught off guard by the kiss on your head and watching him hail a cab like it was nothing, you couldn’t help but smile on your way into your building, met by Max at the front desk beaming as wide as you and giving you a wink.  Knowing that he saw the cute and awkward interaction you shared with the hyper hamster outside. 

The two days in between you and Soonyoung’s first official interaction, you felt yourself looking forward to seeing him again and being in his presence like your own personal serotonin boost. 

The insane fact that your ex was marrying the girl he cheated on was enough, but the girl being Soonyoung’s painful crush? Especially when you felt he was becoming yours was beyond insane. 

You made up separate drafts of your article about the people who make weddings shine, from the families, the bridal parties. the insane bachelor and bachelorette nights, and mainly Soonyoung’s love for love. 

The two works of nonfiction were from different perspectives, one being your head and one being your heart. You couldn’t decide if it was appropriate to present a piece basically claiming how amazing you found Soonyoung for the whole world to see when you’re not even sure if he’d ever consider you to be more than a silly writer girl y/n, his friend or fake girlfriend. Your other was from the space of practicality, a genuine love letter to your career and the person who inspired this story, but also digging deep into the ideals of how frantic and selfish the wedding industry can be and what it means for an unmarried friend to take in burdens constantly for their loved ones when it takes a toll on their own heart. 

The biggest debate in your body was the fact the real article, the one you wanted to write, was at the fault of someone who had only in the short space of two days made you feel again, but it was honest and genuine. 

You knew Soonyoung had to have some pain working and being a part of a wedding for the girl he saw himself marrying. 

Luckily you have another few days to decide which way it’ll go. 

Sitting on the thought of what one you should put out, you were awoken out of your thought bubble to a string of buzzes from your cell phone sitting face down on your desk. 

None other than the boy that had been living in your head for the past 48 hours. 

Soonyoung’s texts were multiple lines of photos and silly messages asking you which outfit he should wear that could match any of the dresses you had hanging in your closet for the wedding. 

One of the options was a beige suit, simple in theory but something about the way he styled it with a funky sage green t-shirt and matching sneakers made you smile. Even if you didn’t have anything to match this outfit you would make an effort to go out and spruce up your wardrobe to be on his level. 

After quickly responding that it was your choice, he retorted back in his true fashion you’d have to send him your options too or he’d come over to help you. 

In a desperate subconscious way you agreed to his antics. 

Now nearly an hour later a call came from the front desk that a visitor had arrived asking for consent he could come upstairs which you happily agreed assuming it was none other than Soonyoung himself. The person on the opposite side of the door was not the sharp eyed boy you’d expected, but Jihoon. 

“Why are you here?” 

“I wanted to see you after the other night, I just wanted to say hey.” 

“Okay? Then text me. Don’t come over unannounced, I have a friend I’m expecting.” 

“You wouldn’t have responded.” 

“That’s true.” 

Standing with your arms crossed in your doorway not letting Jihoon into the now redecorated apartment you once had let him live in, you weren’t budging on your gut feeling to let him in and talk. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Like I said. I’m expecting a friend. So.. no.” 

“Who? Hoshi? You guys aren’t seriously together? He’s not your type, too goofy.” 

“Isn’t he your friend?” 

“He’s Nana’s friend, but he’s okay. I’m just saying it's not your style.” 

Nana? A stupid nickname for his fiance who’s name was simply Anna. So as you rolled your eyes and shut your apartment door behind you as you stepped into the hallway as a clear defining factor he was not welcome you stood far apart from him as a line in the sand. 

“He’s not goofy. He’s sweet and yes he’s on his way so maybe you should leave before saying anything else so he doesn’t get the wrong idea.” 

Jihoon wavered a bit, looking towards the elevator door at the end of the hall as if like a movie Soonyoung would walk out of the elevator at the mention he was on his way over. 

“Maybe take the stairs. I’ll see you at your wedding with my date.” 

Rushing in and slamming the door in his face, you sink to the floor in a moment of pure exhaustion over interacting with someone like your ex. 

Why wasn’t Soonyoung right for you? Why did you not want that to be true? And why were you so dead set on proving him absolutely wrong? 

In your rush of emotions another knock came to your door. Without looking through the peephole you swung it open rapidly. 

“Look I told you to g- oh, Soonyoung! Thank god.” 

Your body made a move before your head could even catch up as you ended up hugging him tightly, rushing him inside as if Jihoon didn’t get the message and was watching in from a hidden spot in the corridor. 

“Y/N are you okay?” 

“Yes. Sorry, someone just came over that I did not want to see. Welcome.” 

You watched as his eyes took in the view of your pink and green splattered apartment, things like funky vases full of wildflowers, plant tendrils floating down from shelves tucked between books of various sizes and ages, a small nook with sleeping white and black cat hid inside snuggling into his stuffed toy. 

“I love it here.” 

“Really? I redecorated recently, it was cold before. I love it now.” 

“Also it smells amazing, do you bake? It smells like cookies and coffee. Wow.” 

“I do not bake, but I do have candles that give the illusion. What’s in the bag?” 

Soonyoung set a small black duffle bag down on the counter and began pulling the contents out one by one, showing them off like a beauty guru. 

Wine, five small bags of potato chips, beer Incase you didn’t like wine and he was unsure, a slice of delicious looking chocolate cake, and a container marked with your name of his moms homemade soup. 

“Why did you do this?” 

“I thought we would have fun while picking out matching outfits. Will you let me see your closet? Please, please, please. I’m so curious.” 

“It’s not that impressive at all.” 

“If your apartment looks like this then I have only the highest expectations for you.” 

Smiling, you jokingly made a come on motion with your fingers and led him into your spare bedroom that now existed as a half home office and half closet. 

His eyes took in even more of your fun design work, the racks of records, pictures of you and your friends, and one of the things that made him feel like he could fall in love with you, your rack full of limited edition shoes and bags. 

“Not impressive? You have some of the coolest shit I’ve ever seen in here?” 

“I’m just a girl with a cat and a lot of time on my hands. Since being single I’ve just spent it on shopping and ordering take out.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking what were you and Jihoon like together? You guys seem really opposite to me.” 

There it was again, someone not right for you. Was it just in your head that you think maybe you’re the problem of why this comment is being made? 

“Uh, we were okay at first. We met in college about three weeks before graduation and spent so much time together. But if I think about it, we just hung out in his dorm where I watched him play video games and watch anime even though I was not interested. I kind of wish I was more outspoken about it. I missed a bunch of things my friends had done wasting away on his futon drinking shitty cheap alcohol and waiting on him hand and foot and whatever else.” 

“Really? So you guys dated for a long time I guess. Did it change a lot once you got out?” 

“Not really. A lot of people knew we were ‘dating’ but in the time that we did, we probably went on one or two actual dates.” 

“That makes me sad actually.” 

“Why? I made the choice to do all those things. At least I don’t have an ugly poster of John Lennon on my wall just to show I loved him.” 

Soonyoung was set off by that, laughing and imagining you having a photo of a musician on your wall to impress your boyfriend. 

“What’s so funny? Haven’t you done anything embarrassing to impress a girl?” 

“Definitely. Too many to choose from actually.” 

“At least you're charming, I came off as obsessive and stupidly in love. Not a good look for me.” 

“Caring too much is never a bad thing when you think you’re in love and you’re charming too.” 

“Why thank you good sir.” 

“And you’re weird. Which personally is a green flag for me. I didn’t expect that from you actually.” 

“Is that a compliment though, really?” 

“For me? Yes. I don’t like normal people well, not normal people I guess, just people who have no personality or something I can learn from. I want someone as a friend or whatever else to challenge me a little, it’s healthy.” 

“I think that’s really cool of you, I agree. I like people that are willing to try new stuff or get me out of my comfort zone.” 

“Was showing me your office a way of me getting you out of your comfort zone?” 

“Sort of. This is kind of like my safe haven.” 

Soonyoung just gave you a wide toothed smile, beaming from ear to eat that you admitted he was even just slightly somewhat of your type. 

As the night went on and on the boy that has now broken down a couple of your walls, not quickly but brick by brick was sitting comfortably next to your cat curled up in the same manor helping you pick out something that would go with his two outfits, one for the wedding itself and one for the rehearsal dinner which he promised you that you’d only eat and leave to have more fun just out of respect for the couple and his friend Anna. 

Now each of you taking the bottle of wine he brought slowly, sitting on your floor surrounded by shoes and loose pairs of pants, giggling over nothing he stared in your eyes almost like you could read that he had another interrogating question. 

“Was Jihoon the one at the door before?” 

“How did you kno–” 

“I can’t remember you mentioning anybody that would come over unannounced and make you look as upset as you did.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you know why he was here?” 

“He just gave me some stupid antidote that he wanted to see me after the other day, I didn’t ask further. When I told him I had a friend coming over he just knew it was you for some reason and then told me we couldn’t be dating seriously because you’re not my type? As if he’d know? It was weird all around.” 

“Do you still have feelings for him?” 

“No. I realized once we broke up and now after knowing he was cheating on me more than a few nights that it was an amazing decision. When we first ended it I just kicked him out and ghosted all his texts, he used to update me on his life every now and again, the last time we talked for real, before today he called me crying that his Grandmother was sick, so we just had a brief talk and it ended for real there. I genuinely never thought I’d see him again.” 

“Also, am I your type?” 

Ss wine dribbled down your chin you were once again surprised by Soonyoung’s random fit of confidence. 

“Yeah. You’re nice and I love how annoying you are. I think you get under my skin in the best way.” 

“Wow. I’m surprised you admitted it.” 

“What can I say, wine drunk y/n is honest.” 

“And what about my physical type? Sexy, cool, handsome, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen?” 

Taking a note from his book you swung your closest arm to him, you clipped your fingers over his mouth and shut him up. 

Much to your surprise he took a note from your book and instead of biting your hand he stuck his tongue through his lips and licked your fingers which caused you to lunge towards him further, jokingly pissed he did just so. 

As you were fighting for comedic relief you sat suddenly face to face with him holding onto your wrists to resist more thrash fighting. 

The two of you stared at each other filling the room with intense tension of your lips being so close once again. 

“If I knew you wouldn’t be mad at me I’d kiss you right now.” 

“Soonyoung, you’re so stupid. Why would I be mad at you?” 

“So I can kiss you?” 

“Nope.” 

Soonyoung pushed his bottom lip out from his top, replacing his cute puppy face with a pouty one. 

You decided to quickly dive in and pace a peck on his protruding bottom lip. 

He immediately let you go and erupted into a fit of giggles like a little kid, as you tried to sneak away quickly he grabbed onto the arm of your sweatshirt which you quickly unzipped and slipped out of, running through the door of your office and into the rest of the house as he chased behind. 

“You have to know I’m going to catch you for that, that was so mean y/n.” 

As you were winning the fight, getting away from the boy chasing you around, you suddenly tripped up and felt his hand grasp your shoulder, turning you around with secret strength. 

Standing face to face with him now, your stubbed toe throbbing through your fuzzy socks, you both were holding in a whole lot of laughter. 

Soonyoung’s hand slipped behind your head and pulled you in for a much more romantic type of kiss than you gave him before. The two of you touched lips softly, as your smiles were still prominent on your faces. 

Before anything could escalate further your phone began to ring again and your boss's name was plastered over the front, which you answered with panting breaths still in a haze from kissing the boy you made you feel young again. 

“y/n? Hi, would you be able to send over a draft of your article you begged me for? We were looking for something to print for tomorrow if you’re interested? I’ll have someone expedite the editing process tonight.” 

“Oh, shit. Yeah of course, I’ll rush and email it to you now.” 

“Thank you, congratulations y/n.” 

“Thank you. Bye.” 

Oh my god, Soony, stay here. I have to email my boss quickly about my article, she wants to print it for tomorrow's paper. I’ll be right back.” 

“What? Congratulations. But don't worry, I’m not leaving.” 

“Good, sorry, be right back.” 

Rushing back into your office you flipped open your computer and sent your final article draft, choosing the one that your gut felt would be better for your personal life at the moment, especially after the kiss you just shared with the boy it was about. 

Typing a quick message along with your attachment you just said a big thank you and clicked send before grabbing the half drank bottle off the floor and ran back to Soonyoung munching on a bag of chips waiting for you. 

“Shall we celebrate?” 

“What are we celebrating?” 

“Me, idiot. I’ve been trying to get a real article published ever since I got the job doing weddings. I love weddings, but always being so happy and cheerful and not getting a chance to stretch my creative juices is frustrating.” 

“Can we also celebrate kissing? That seems more fun.” 

“Shut up, asshole.” 

Taking a swig from the bottle, you passed it over to your male counterpart and watching him take an equally large drink matching your energy. 

You and Soonyoung spent the rest of the night talking about how tomorrow will go, where will you and he be sitting, will Jihoon be giving you side eyes or talking shit with some of the other guests. How nice of a chance it’ll be to experience a wedding simply just enjoying with someone on your side and not for work. 

After sitting in bed and still thinking about your kiss with Soonyoung many hours later, you saw a text from your boss letting you know she loved the article and to watch out for it in the morning. 

When that finally rolled around, you woke up to a lot of messages congratulating you and your new found success, many people from college, your parents, but the one person you were looking for was nowhere to be found in those texts. 

Putting the praise aside for a moment, you slipped back out of your bed to jump into the shower and start getting ready for your dinner celebrating the devil that was your ex. 

When you stepped out and went to grab onto your device once again you saw a text from the one person you were most excited to read, but it was less than exciting. Soonyoung expressed how upset the article made him and accused you of using him to further your career, something Jihoon supposedly warned him of the night of his pre-wedding party and he chose to ignore. 

Confused why he would be so upset about your praise for him, you ran to your front door and ripped open the pages of the paper only to find the article that you sent was a mistake, it was the one shitting on weddings, basically claiming Soonyoung himself was an unmarried loser, not in those words but you could see why it came across that way. Some of the simple moments of praise for his hard work were cut out in the editing room, only leaving the small bits of gossip and harsh criticisms sprinkled in between. 

Rushing back inside as your stomach sank to the floor you tried his number three times before getting no answer. Which made you frantically dial your boss’s number and interrogate her on why parts of your article were cut out, she simply answered that fluff doesn’t sell and she was proud of you. 

Soonyoung not responding had let you in on the fact that he wasn’t going to be seeing you today or maybe even seeing anybody for that matter, he was embarrassed and rightfully so. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Continuing your quest on trying to reach him, you decided to still get ready for your night out, maybe not in the intense matching outfit way you wanted to last night, but just something where you could sneak into Jihoon’s wedding party and slide Soonyoung the real article you wanted him to read. 

Running down the street to the venue with no accurate directions in sight, you saw your ex standing on a corner, smoking a brown wrapped joint in his suit. 

“Jihoon. Jihoon.” 

“What? Back to grovel for a favor?” 

“Yes, please, just give this to Soonyoung for me. Please, I’ve never asked you for a favor like this, just once do something for me.” 

“You’re really serious about him?” 

“I am.” 

“So you didn’t mean to slam him in the article like you did?” 

“No. My boss cut out the good parts of the article, this was the one I meant to send. Just for me. I want you to be happy, Jihoon, I do. I want it for myself too, just please give it to him. Make sure he reads it.” 

“Okay.” 

“I know we haven’t had the best past and I know I'm coming here askin- Wait? Okay? Really?” 

“Yeah. I can tell this means a lot to you and the reason I came over today was just to formally invite you to the wedding. You’re a big part of my life and now Soonyoung’s, well maybe, besides the point. My fiance is one of his best friends, she liked you too, that was the only reason.” 

“Oh. Well I don’t think I’ll make it.” 

“How about you come on official business and give this to him yourself?” 

“No. I couldn’t do that. It’s your day not mine.” 

“We both deserve a big love, y/n.” 

Taking back your enveloped letter, you couldn’t help but be impressed by how mature Anna had made Jihoon become and you knew he was right. Sometimes love just falls in your lap and you can’t do anything about it. 

Ashing out his joint, he handed you the other half as an olive branch to celebrate old times and bid you goodbye until tomorrow. 

Before going back inside, he turned to you with one final wish. 

“You better look damn good tomorrow too, no suits. Wear something nice to confess your feelings, otherwise you’ll look like a dumbass.” 

“Got it.” 

Catching your breath and shoving the letter and paraphernalia back into your purse, you decided to take Jihoon’s advice. To look amazing, you stumbled upon a shop called ‘All's Well that Ends Well.’ situation just a block down from the poetry inspired bar Soonyoung took you to just a few days before. 

Stepping inside the store, the first thing you saw was a navy blue dress, the halter neckline and the silk straight flowing down to the floor, you knew it was meant for you. Especially because it would match the light pink suit Soonyoung was meant to be sporting with you by his side. The easiest shopping experience of your life. 

As the sales associate packed your order up and sealed it with a light pink bow, you knew it was a sign or something of the sort. 

With less than twenty-four hours of doing the most insane thing of your life, confessing to a man who essentially hated you after you had been kissing just hours before, you stayed up all night, using the weed that Jihoon gave you to stay focused on the task at hand, you almost considered cutting of your hair to enter a new era of your life, but only girls who were going through something would consider that and you attempted to tell yourself you were calm. 

When the morning sun rang around you finished writing a letter to match the one already placed in the envelope to accompany your sorry. You even decorated the outside with stickers of tigers and spongebob characters just to make Soonyoung smile. 

Sliding into your navy blue dress and silver heels, your hair was down and curled into perfect waves. You kissed your cat on the head and made your way over to the venue by foot, just to give yourself a little fresh air and piece of mind, hoping to slip in early enough so that you’d be seated before he even knew you came. 

Slipping into a space near the back of the room on Jihoon’s side, you opened your phone to an encouraging text from him telling you that you’ve got this and he’s excited to hear more about it later, plus reminding you to have fun and enjoy yourself. 

As the progression started you watched along with the other wedding goers, catching glimpses of Jihoon’s smiling family, which made your heart feel warm. 

As the wedding part waltz down the aisle in their pastel pink suits and rosy toned dresses, you saw a now blonde again head appear on the arm of a girl who looked a lot like Anna, so it was fair to assume it was her sister. 

Soonyoung didn’t glance your way, but something about the change in his demeanor made you aware he knew you had come. 

“Everyone please rise for the bride.” 

Anna walked out with her father on her arm, floating across the room like an angel in white. Her dress was adorned with small beaded flowers from the tips of her fingers down to the vail over her blonde hair. 

She was truly beautiful, you couldn’t help but feel like a peasant in the room with this woman who both of the men you had either once had feelings for or now did once loved. 

The whole ceremony was beautiful, but you missed a lot of it as you stared Soonyoung’s way trying to catch his eyes, but he never met yours. He was too busy enjoying the fact that his friends were getting married and the fact you had upset him. 

When the ceremony ended you followed the other guests to the front of the church, holding your envelope in your hand and greeting the bride and groom, Anna and Jihoon beamed at you before she pointed her finger to a room off the side of the front door, some sort of administration office where Soonyoung would be waiting for you. Which also told you Jihoon had filled her in on your little plan. 

You cracked open the old wooden door, trying to be subtle but the rotting wood creaked under the old floor boards making your entrance more known than you would’ve liked. 

Soonyoung was seated in a red leather chair to the side of the desk, his now blonde hair meeting your eyes before his face. Not giving in to turn around and look at you. 

“Soonyoung? I know you probably don’t want to speak to me. But, this was the real article. It was never meant to be that way. I’m sorry.” 

You placed the letter in front of him on the desk and moved to turn back to the door before you heard his voice. 

“So you didn’t mean all those mean things you wrote about me? That I was a desperate groomsman waiting for his shot to have a day for himself?” 

“No.” 

“You didn’t mean to say that my ostentatious nature was cringe worthy?” 

“Not in that way no, my boss cut out all the good things I said about you. She put it in her own words for dramatic effect. I quit this morning.” 

“You quit? Why?” 

“I wanted to try to make this right in the best way I could, she wouldn’t reprint the article how I wrote it and told me that if I didn’t like her style I should get a job somewhere else. So I quit.” 

Soonyoung just nodded, he couldn’t imagine why you would give up a golden opportunity just to prove your boss wrong or right for that matter all because of him. The only way he could make sense of what you were saying is that you were truly sorry and you cared about him. 

He made a bold move and threw the letter in the trash can to the side of the old oak desk and got out of his chair to hug you. 

“You’re not going to read it.” 

Speaking into his shoulder, you got a calming exhale of his cologne. 

“I don’t need to. I know you're telling me the truth, you said it yourself you don’t lie when you drink wine, and I can smell it on your breath.” 

Slipping your hands up from their place around his neck into his hair you giggled slightly, looking at the now dyed blonde locks of hair. 

“You dyed it back?” 

“You said you liked it. I thought you’d be my date and I had the appointment so I didn’t want to cancel.” 

“You weren’t hoping I’d show up here?” 

“I knew you would. I saw you talking to Jihoon outside last night through the window. I wasn’t sure exactly because you did walk away and he never told me what happened. But, when I saw you today sitting in the crowd. I knew my inkling was right.” 

“Did the cohesive outfit impress you? I missed one night, but I hope I made up for it today.” 

Soonyoung pushed you away slightly by your shoulders and made you do a spin for him. 

“You look beautiful.” 

“You’re such a dork.” 

Soonyoung playfully swung you around in the office covered in photos of church go-ers and crosses, bringing you into his chest tightly. 

“So, what did you write in that article? That I was devilishly handsome and cool?” 

“Nope. Just that you were a bad kisser.” 

“Seems like you need a reminder.” 

“Maybe.” 

As your lips met Soonyoungs once again your heart sank into your stomach and was beating rapidly. You just fit and he never once doubted your heart. 

“What do you say? Should we go outside and dance?” 

“Can you even dance?” 

“Y/n? Can I even dance? What do you even think I do for a living?” 

“Oh. I’m such an idiot. Anna works at a talent agency. Got it.” 

“Come on, silly. Before our audience outside gets bigger.” 

When you exited the office back into the group of people outside, for some reason Jihoon started a cheer alongside his new wife. 

Soon you and Soonyoung were dancing the night away and drinking a little too much than your stomachs could handle. 

When you finally got a moment of dizzy drunkenness alone, he had you sitting on a bench where he knelt to the ground. Your mouth got the better of you once again. 

“Oh my god you're not proposing already are you I mean I know I’m amaz-” 

“Y/n shut up, I’m tying my shoe.” 

“Cool, cool. Got it.” 

“But the next wedding I attend hopefully I’ll be the groom.” 

With a wink Soonyoung sat back at your side as you watched the stars together, making a mental note that the next wedding would belong to the both of you.

taglist: @sahazzy

[okkalo]

christmas decorations?

sae x reader

genre(s): fluff

warnings(s): reader implied to be shorter once, you decorate for christmas :|

when u want to write for a prompt but think of another one when writing and stuff and then this happens and yeah

“what the hell is this?” the question slipped past sae’s lips without any thought, his eyes reflecting the warm lights you decorated around your shared apartment. the scent of a welcoming vanilla threw him off as well as the sight of christmas decorations replacing much of his earlier modern ones. it didn’t take much to figure out the person who set it all up, especially with you peeking around the corner with a small grin taking over your lips.

“welcome home, sae,” you greeted, completely ignoring his earlier question. you padded up to him, enveloping him in a warm hug he didn’t hesitate to half return, his eyes still wandering the bright sights in front of him.

“what is all of this?” he asked again, much nicer than last time. you could only smile at the question, turning around to see the same sight as him.

“it’s christmas decorations; remember how we both agreed to decorate the apartment?” you explained as you turned back around to see his usual deadpan face turned into one of dumbstruck.

sae, hard to believe or not, was one to decorate during the holidays. sure, he put a small tree out and some winter themed candles, after all what else would he need? so, when he agreed to decorate the apartment he expected nothing more than his usual decorations, not a whole christmas town in his apartment. how did you even do all of this by yourself?

“did you mean to turn my apartment to the north pole?” he narrowed his eyes, his unfiltered question slipping off his tongue with such ease.

“sae!” you slapped his arm, drawing his eyes down to you, “it’s normal to decorate your apartment like this!” you reasoned, crossing your arms before him. “and it’s our apartment.”

he looked at you as if you had grown a third head, with you glaring at him right back. you two stood like this for a minute, no words needing to be said as enough was told through the eye contact you both held. it was after that minute when sae finally gave in with a sigh, stripping himself of his coat and shoes, his eyes trailing upwards once more to take in the new apartment.

“you gonna leave milk and cookies out for santa too?” he mockingly asked as he hung up his coat before walking forward.

“oh, shut up,” you responded with an eye roll, following behind him. despite his mean words, you knew he would allow the decorations to stay and would even get used to them. you slipped in between his arm and the side of his torso, leaning gently onto him as he continued to take in the sight. his arm gently rubbed up and down your arm, an instinctive move that he barely put any thought into as his eyes caught onto the bare christmas tree.

“why does the tree look so plain?” he broke the silence with another question before looking down at you. he was met with another grin from you as you met his gaze once again.

“i wanted to put the ornaments on with you.” you gave him a nudge, his eyes rolling at the action before he gave you his normal deadpan. “oh, come on sae! please, i just wanna have a cute couple moment for the both of us,” you pleaded, standing up from your earlier leaning position on him to show you were serious.

he hated himself for finding you adorable for wanting something so simple, and he for sure hated himself for giving another sigh before giving into you once more. he gave you a gentle push towards the tree, signaling you he would follow behind. “fine,” he grumbled, drawing an excited giggle from you. with a tug on his hand, you made sure he followed you to the box of ornaments sitting next to the empty christmas tree.

sure, he might’ve bickered with you the whole time, but maybe he did enjoy coming home to more than a small tree as his only decoration.

unedited. thanks for reading!

[obitohno]

daydreaming about best friend! kirishima whose thoughts of you are anything but friendly.

fem! reader, 18+, friends to lovers, unrequited feelings, kiri is a jealous mess, hickeys, making out, unprotected sex, kitchen sex, dry humping, semi-angst, kiri is whipped with a capital W

2.1k (unedited)

reblogs are appreciated ~

if there’s one of the very few things that kirishima dislikes about you the most, it’s the fact that you are so frustratingly oblivious, he swears that it’ll be the death of him. 

long has he given up on pretending that he thinks of you as just another of his many friends, yet, he has become particularly well-practised in the act of feigning nonchalance each time you brush off his advances as another of his silly little jokes. it hurt, at first, because he really couldn’t understand why you never took him seriously, but over time, that tiny, bitter spark of pain has slowly morphed into a frustration that has him—too many a time, in bakugo’s opinion—forcing his friend to listen as he rambles away into the early hours of the morning whenever he decides to invite himself over to the blonde’s residence. 

‘maybe she’s just not into you, shitty hair,’ was the response that had been snapped at him the last time he’d stayed over, and kirishima had swallowed down the crushing defeat that had churned at his stomach around a mouthful of beer. 

still, he continues on with his plan to take the time out of his schedule to meet with you for dinner this friday evening—something which as long been a part of his weekly routine for the past year or so—and when you kiss him on the cheek just as he’s stepping past the threshold of the front door, throwing your arms around the broad expanse of his shoulders and exclaiming that he’s a godsend for bringing the bottle of wine that you’d requested hours before—because holy shit, kiri, this week has been absolute hell—his pulse stutters where it thrums at the side of his neck, because, truly, he isn’t sure just how much longer he can take this. 

dinner appears as normal, with him pretending that he’s not sneaking glances at the shape of your mouth as he listens to you chatter on about just exactly why this week has been absolute hell, but really, he’s not entirely focusing on what you’re saying, as his attention is suddenly darting down towards where the woollen neckline of your oversized cardigan has slipped from your left shoulder to expose what he now sees to be a bruise on your collarbone. 

‘what the hell is that?’ 

the words are snapped out from between his lips before he can stop himself, and when you pause to stare at him, wide eyed, he falters, shocked by the unfiltered bitterness that bites at his own tone. quickly, your fingers are scrabbling to tug the fabric of your cardigan back over your shoulder, a grimace crinkling the bridge of your nose. 

‘it’s nothing.’ 

your answer is rushed, eyes darting away from his when he stares at you, hard. his eyes burn into surface of your cardigan as if he can see through it, and there’s an uncomfortable stretch of silence that serves nothing but to the stew the ugly boil of jealousy that has bile tickling at the back of his throat. ‘don’t look like nothin’ to me,’ he eventually grits out, trying, and failing to form a smile on the curve of his lips. it’s anything but genuine, evidently forced as it doesn’t reach his eyes, the corners of his mouth quickly turning downward when his gaze focuses on your shoulder once more. 

‘it’s just a hickey, kiri,’ your eyes are rolling now, and that is what makes him snap. 

‘just a hickey?’ his features are twisting into a sneer that just doesn’t look right on his face, brows furrowing together to form a frown that only makes him look all the more annoyed. he’s jabbing the tip of his index finger in the direction of your shoulder, leaning over the edge of the table to do so. ‘that ain’t just a hickey, it’s—’

‘it’s none of your business, is what it is,’ you’re frowning at him now, lips pressed into a straight line. 

logically, he knows that what you’ve said isn’t a lie, but it cuts him, deep, and he physically flinches, slumping back into his seat. he forces down the lump that has formed at the back of his throat, trying his best to diminish the ache that has settled in the centre of his chest with an exhale. 

it doesn’t work. 

again, the two of you sit in silence, his stare pointedly aimed toward his unfinished plate of pasta, failing to notice the brief flicker of a smirk that tugs at the corners of your mouth. you allow him to filter through his own thoughts, busying yourself with tidying away your dishes, quickly downing the last of your wine before rising from your seat. the scrape of the chair legs dragging across the floor is what has his stare shifting, focusing on the space between your shoulders as you retreat into the kitchen, disappearing from his line of sight. 

maybe she’s just not into you, shitty hair. 

the words makes his head spin, dizzy with the mortification of his own lack of propriety. months, years, he’s spent dreaming of you, almost every waking second consumed by nothing but you, you, you. 

and all of that has been ruined by the sight of that stupid little hickey. 

bakugo was right. 

you really aren’t into him. 

nausea gnaws at his stomach, and embarrassingly so, he can feel the tell-tale bite of tears stinging just beneath his lashes, his sclera glistening wetly. rapidly, he blinks, because who the hell does he think he is, crying pathetically into his plate of pasta? he’s fucking red riot, for god’s sake. 

his throat vibrates with the force of which he clears his throat, and from where he sits, he can hear you, the gentle clinks of the pots and pans accompanied by the opening and closing of the cupboard doors. but quickly, the noise of the kitchen tinkers into silence, and when you fail to re-emerge, it is he who relents, seeking you first. 

half-eaten plate of pasta now cold, he swipes it from the table with the intention of at least aiding you with the tidying, especially now that his appetite has ceased to exist. only, once he ducks his way into the kitchen, his arm outstretched with the aim to place his plate onto the counter, his eyes immediately focus onto you—a very naked you—perched on the opposing counter like a carefully placed piece of bone china. 

an inhuman noise scratches from the back of his throat, and the plate of uneaten pasta slips from his fingers, the contents splattering onto the tiled floor in a gooey mess that intermingles with the now shattered ceramic. 

voice catching on a flustered yelp, he blurts some form of an apology, cheeks aflame, stuck between wanting to tidy the mess that he’s made, and also gawking at every inch of bare skin that has his breath hitching, faltering horribly when your thighs part to reveal just the tiniest flash of your cunt. slack jawed, he stills by the doorway, the crimson of his irises stretched wide as he hesitates, evidently unsure of which situation he should attend to first, eyes reluctantly tearing from you to dart toward the mess on the floor. 

luckily, you make the decision for him, beckoning him forth with a whisper of his given name. 

‘leave it, eiji.’ 

‘… but the—’

‘leave it.’ 

and, fuck, he really, really wants to. but he also feels a tad guilty for leaving such a mess—bakugo would have his neck for even considering it. 

but, again, luckily, you aren’t bakugo, and so when you encourage him closer a second time, the crook of your index and middle fingers inviting him to the other side of the room, he’s quick to follow the instruction. 

your thighs spread, widening to accommodate the width of his hips, greedily wrapped tight around him just a second later. startled by your enthusiasm, he pants a coy chuckle, unsure of where to put his hands, pupils blown wide as he watches, transfixed by the rise and fall of your breasts with each breath that you inhale through your nostrils. he settles for supporting his weight on his hands, palms pressed flat to the cool marble of the countertop, and bowed above you like this, he’s privy to the way that your slit glistens for him, your folds parted along with the stretch of your thighs. 

‘oh fuck,’ he chokes on another strained laugh, stammering when his stare then fixates to the dribble of slick that is slowly forming a puddle beneath the curve of your behind. unbeknownst to him, you’re just as giddy as he is, disbelief swelling inside you, especially as he’s failed to notice that in between entering the kitchen and removing your clothes, you’d also taken the time to quickly swipe away the ‘bruise’ with a splash of water. somehow, what had started as a silly idea, born from the frustration of life somehow finding a way to cockblock you for months on end, has actually worked. 

in all of the time that you’ve known the redhead, you’d never pegged him as the jealous type, but if the hunger that has filtered its way into his heated stare is a promised reaction, then you’re not above making him jealous over and over again. especially when it finally has him pressed to you like this, his jean-clad crotch brushing over the exposed nub of your clit. your fingers come to tickle their way beneath the hem of his t-shirt, your nails skimming over the muscles that tense and harden beneath your searing touch.  

‘how ‘bout you gimme a hickey of your own?’ 

instantly, his eyes snap toward where that damned hickey had been, only, the frown that now mars the space between his brows is one formed with confusion. 

‘huh—?’ 

through heavily lidded eyes, you watch the exact moment that realisation dawns upon him, his lips parting, nostrils flaring—with arousal or annoyance, you’re not sure. the reds of his eyes snap to yours, and there’s a flash of his teeth as he smiles down at you, lips twisting meanly. 

‘you fuckin’—’

he’s silenced by the shape of your mouth moulding to his. 

‘mfph!’ 

the taste of you is overwhelming, and his knees buckle, the right one harshly colliding with the cupboard door when you roughly tug him closer, the length of your fingers buried between the crimson tresses of his hair. tonight is one of the rare nights that he wears it loose from its usual up-do, and you’re more than willing to take advantage of the fact that he’s done so, pulling at the length to guide his head to the left, tilting your own as his tongue guides its way into the heat of your mouth. 

he kisses just as excitedly as you’d imagined, enthusiastically licking his way over the ridges of your teeth and along the bumps of the roof of your mouth before wetly sliding across the flat of your tongue. he eagerly swallows the breathy moan that you offer, echoing the sound with one of his own, the blunt edges of his nails biting into the meat of your hip, his pelvis canting toward yours. the swell of his cock is the perfect distraction, your clit throbbing in approval when your fingers dislodge from his hair to busy themselves with hurriedly unbuckling his belt, anticipation beating a rapid pulse at your throat as you listen to the dull thud! of the metal clinking upon the floor once the denim has been impatiently shoved down the muscled length of his legs. 

between his thighs, blood has pumped his girth full, the pink of his slit swollen, weeping a sap that smears a mess over your clit as his length glides between your seeping folds. 

your pitched mewl of approval is muffled to his temple, the press of his lips now aimed for your pulse, his teeth grazing along the stretch of your neck, which tilts to accommodate the way that he mouths a mark to the surface of your skin. his frenulum catches on your clit, and the yelp that escapes you is one that has him groaning, the blunts of his teeth nipping at your collarbone next. 

‘eiji,’ you gasp below him, encouraging the experimental nudge of his tip at your opening with a roll of your hips. and as your glittering hole stretches around the width of him, his prick claims ownership of the cavern of your weeping cunt, and his mark at your throat stings with the promise of many more to come. 

some dreams really do come true. 

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.

[got-peaches]

thought i should give an unfiltered unedited photo too! ❤️

[getyourjollies]

MY TOTALLY UNFILTERED AND UNEDITED NOTES ON SONGS FROM THE FIRST HALF OF THE OUTSIDERS THE MUSICAL

enjoy?? 😭 part two coming soon 🫶🏻

TULSA ‘67-

•THE RUN??? at the very end?? omg

•sky 💗💗

•omg the vocals are insane brody IS ponyboy

•vocals are richhhhh

•football STAHRRR

•no like the staccato 😩😩

•okay the orchestra popped off on this track though

•”building up the west side while the east side falls apart” 😭😭😭

•WE’RE GREASERS!!!

GREASE GOT A HOLD-

•ANOTHER RUN?? holy shit

•okay jason pop OFF love you pooks

•”little brother” 🥹🫶🏻

•jazzy afff

•so catchy

•more tromboneeeee

•dee tofa HIGH NOTE?

•poneyboyuh

•ensemble POP OFF!!

RUNS IN THE FAMILY-

•aww darry ☹️

•brent’s vocals have so much feeling it’s wild

•”don’t know what them boys would do without me.” aww 😭😭

•gonna go cry rq

•southern ish

•daddy’s a little bit mad

•”what would i do on my own” ☹️☹️

GREAT EXPECTATIONS-

•VOCALS. ARE. WILD.

•actually intense though i forgot how much i love this song

•okay brody eat it upppp

•the self awareness about him being the only one who has a shot, and everyone is counting on him to make it for all of them ☹️

•the name dropping though 😭

FRIDAY AT THE DRIVE IN-

•KWP is still hot

•thought i would like it more

•emma’s voice will take some getting used to

•why is it so southern wtf

•lots of good ensemble vocals

I COULD TALK TO YOU ALL NIGHT-

•after fatdi i thought i wouldn’t like it but awwww

•cuties

•HARMONIESSSS

•emma and brody sound so good together

•”nobody’s ever listened to me like that” AWW BABY 😭😭

RUNS IN THE FAMILY (REPRISE)-

•before- i’m scared guys

•after- WAHHHHHH

•DADDYS MADDDDDD

•”i’ll fold the laundry- i’ll fold all of it 😁” thanks baby i love you

•the slap IS SO GOOD SHITTING MYSELF

•guys i think i have a crush on brent comer

•THE VOCALS have got me FALLING IN LOVE

FAR AWAY FROM TULSA-

•HARMONIES 😩😩😩😩

•sky and brody are made for each other

•johnnys garden 😭

•ponyboy being naive and johnny enabling him tho :/

•GREATTTTT EXPECTAAATIONS

•the drums in that part WERE POPPING OFF!???

RUN RUN BROTHER-

•Joshua Boone i am sorry for doubting you 🤭

•i heard the beginning and my heart DROPPED

•sky lakota lynch i will love you for the rest of my life

•okay jazzyyyy???

•okay what if i just ended it all.

•THE ENDING 😭😭 THE REFERENCES TO THE OTHER SONGS

•FULL BODY CHILLS

•literally shaking as i type this

•”you’re a greaser now and you ain’t going back” IN A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT CONTEXT IS WILDDD

•dallys advice being to always run ☹️

•JOSHUAS VOCALS IN THE SECOND CHORUS THOUGH 😩😩🤭🤭🤭

[theiloveyousong]

i come to you, discord server, first with my desperate thoughts. my unfiltered, unedited ideas. and what do you do? you ignore it. and that is why i put them on tumblr dot com for all the world to see, for the validation we all crave

[gemini-sensei]

So now I can't stop thinking about poly Daniel and Amanda with a older first time mom! Reader who shows up to the dealership trying to find a new car for her and the baby.

She wants to trade in her old car because she needs to upgrade, and plus she can't fit in the front seat because her baby bump has gotten so big and the car is too small for her. She's super nervous about the whole thing because not only is she pregnant but she's never gone to an actual dealership to buy a car before.

And Amanda and Daniel notice her right away👀

I can't stop thinking about it now!!!😭🙏

- Sensei-Venus💕✨

@sensei-venus (unedited, unfiltered thoughts)

Your mind- 🥰

😓 my mind, I got a migrain between working on this one so it's not my best work

She walks around the dealership so confused. There's so much more there than she was anticipating and she doesn't know what to do. She's not hard to miss with her big, swelling belly and pretty face. Amanda and Daniel decide they're going to work with her, walking up with big smiles on their faces. They introduce themselves and shake her hand, which makes Reader giggle. She tells them she recognizes Daniel from his commercials and immediately puts her hand back on her belly.

When they ask her what she's doing there, she explains the situation. She tells them she needs a new car because her belly is too big and her car is too small. It's also not a good car for a baby. They catch on to the fact that she doesn't have a partner, she doesn't so much as mention one. Amanda laments about how it must be hard to get too and from work so big and pregnant, and Reader laugh again and explains she's working from home. It's the appointments and the store that she struggles to get to.

"It's so hard getting all the baby's things. I mean, I don't even have a crib because I can't fit it in my tiny car. That's why I was hoping to trade it in? It's practically brand new, I've only had it a few years, and the milage is still good," she tells them, hoping to sell it to them. She doesn't realize she doesn't have to, she doesn't see the way that they look at her or the looks they give each other when she looks down. "I've never wrecked it, never had a problem with it. I think the resell value would be pretty good."

"Oh, you don't worry about that," Amanda says, gently touching her arm. It's a comforting gesture because she shouldn't have to worry about stuff like that, especially heavily pregnant. She offers Reader her arm. "Let's walk outside and take a look at your car."

So they take a walk outside and Daniel takes a look at Reader's car, but him and Amanda already know they're going to take the car. How can they not? She's in obvious need of a new car, she can't drive herself and a baby in this small thing. So while Daniel is checking it out, Amanda is telling her about how things are going to work when she trades it in.

They take her inside to do some paperwork and let her rest her feet. Instead of taking her around to look at cars, they show her some on the computer. Amanda is sitting a little close, her voice nice and low and tender. Daniel is sitting on her other side, explaining all the great thing about each car and how good they'll be for baby car seats and what not. They're so sweet to her and she has no idea that they typically don't help customers this much. They sell cars all the time, sure, but it's never this up close and personal.

She takes to it very nicely, though. She's so appreciative of their help and she can't thank them enough. She looks so cute to them, they tell her that she doesn't have to the k them at all. They're just doing their jobs after all, but she insists that she should thank them in some way, since they've been so patient with her...

[momentsbeforemass]

Forgive and road sign

“I will never forgive you.”

When that’s our first unedited, unfiltered response? It’s a sure sign that someone has really hurt us. That what they did cut us. Deeply.

There’s nothing wrong with feeling that way.

But there is a danger in feeling that way. And it comes – not from feeling that way – but from holding onto it.

From allowing it to replay in our thoughts. Allowing how we were hurt by someone to replay in our thoughts does nothing to the person who hurt us. But it hurts us all over again, each time we do it.

If what they did to us is like being pushed down the stairs? Then allowing what they did to us to replay in our thoughts is like pushing yourself down the stairs.

This is why Jesus commands us to forgive in today’s Gospel. Not because the people who pushed us down the stairs deserve anything from us.

But because God loves us too much to let us push ourselves down the stairs again. And again.

“So that I means I just have to forgive and forget?”

No. That’s how God works.

When God forgives us, God forgets everything that’s He’s forgiven.

It’s why one of the saddest things that you and I can do to ourselves is beat ourselves up over something that God has already forgiven. When we drag something back to God that He has already forgiven us for, God has no idea what we’re talking about.

But that’s not how you and I work.

For us, it’s not “forgive and forget.” It’s “forgive and road sign.”

Forgive so we can let go of what they did. And any claim we have against them – no matter how right we may be.

Forgive so we can stop allowing it to replay. So we can let go of how it feels.

Forgive so we can stop letting them live rent-free in our heads. So they can’t hurt us again.

Don’t forget. Hold on to that hard-earned wisdom. But keep it only as a road sign.

Keep it on the road, to give the warning. If we ever head down that road again.

And if we never head down that road again? Let it rust.

Don’t try to forgive on your own. Take it to God in prayer.

Follow God’s lead when it comes to forgiveness.

And if He puts the question in your heart, “should I go to counselling?” You know the answer. Go.

God loves you too much to let you live another day without the joy that comes from forgiveness. Or the freedom that comes from a good road sign.

Today’s Readings

[bornincaldecott]

Rogue has spent so much of life with her guard up, afraid to say or do the wrong thing and hurt someone.

With Remy, though? It's different — at least now. She knows her heart's safe with him, and that she can let her guard down. It didn't happen all at once, but but bit-by-bit she opened up to him, and he was patient and understanding.

I like to think that Remy gets the unedited version of Rogue. Gut reactions, unfiltered thoughts, random tangents about things she's passionate about that he might not know from the man on the moon. But he listens to her, never judging or trying to quiet her voice. He sees every side of her — the good, the bad, and everything in between — and he's here for it.

Remy LeBeau is a prince.

[random-xpressions]

Shame is what you'll leave outside the door of my tavern. Step in naked or never come at all. Your every dark thought, your every hidden desire, your untamed lusts that fills up every nerve of your being - wear it all in your eyes. No veil, no masks here. The purest essence of you - all your light, with all your deepest dark. Come as you are, unedited, unfiltered, raw, real, the authentic you which the world is yet to know...

Random Xpressions