#Referee's Screen

[oldschoolfrp]

"A plague zombie, a victim of the horrible Canopus plague -- It appears to be made of a dark brown, glistening, gelatinous substance." (Harry Quinn illustration from The Albuquerque Starport, introductory Gamma World adventure by Paul Reiche III bundled with the 1981 1st edition Referee's Screen)

[yuujispinkhair]

Boxer!Sukuna headcanons

Inspired by this lovely ask. Thank you so much for sending me that and making me lose my mind over Boxer!Sukuna.

Pairing: Boxer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: 18+, modern AU, smut, squirting. Mentions of boxing injuries, biting, blood. I know that boxers usually wear a groin protector, but I chose to ignore this for this AU because I wanted to write a sexy detail lol. Sukuna + Reader are in a relationship. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who always wants you by his side backstage until it's time for him to enter the arena. You are his good luck charm and the only one who is allowed to wrap the bandages around his hands before he slips into his gloves. Not that he needs any luck with the skills he has, but he loves seeing you press your sweet kisses on his boxing gloves and smile at him before you hug him tightly and tell him to please be careful.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who gets a warm feeling in his heart when he sees how worried you always are. Much more nervous before his fights than he is. But he always reassures you, wrapping his muscular tattooed arms tightly around you and hugging you to his firm body while he tells you, "Don't worry, princess. You know I never lose."

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who smiles while you help him get dressed before a fight, helping him slip into the white silk kimono he wears for his ring entrance show. He can clear his mind the best when he feels your gentle hands caressing over his broad back.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who gives you his most charming smile before he grabs your chin and asks you for a good luck kiss, not just on his boxing gloves but also on his lips.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who always tells you he loves you before he leaves the backstage area. And hearing your "I love you, too" in return gives him another surge of motivation.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose ring-entrance show always makes the crowd go wild. The whole arena is bathed in blood-red light. A picture of an ancient shrine in a sea of blood gets projected onto the large screens. Dramatic classical music starts playing as a huge throne of skulls emerges from the fog, with Sukuna lounging casually on it, his head resting on the back of his hand. He's wearing the snow-white kimono and a crown on his pink hair, presenting himself as The King of Curses, which is his stage name.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose stage name fits him perfectly. One look at him and his powerful body and that dangerous and ambitious glint in his eyes, and everyone knows this guy is truly a King in the boxing ring.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who gracefully walks towards the ring with an arrogant look on his tattooed face, only accompanied by his assistant Uraume, who walks a few steps behind him as if they are a loyal shrine servant who follows their master obediently. They take off Sukuna's kimono for him and bow respectfully while the crowd cheers loudly.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who looks intimidating but beautiful as he stands there with a posture like a God while the white silk slips off his broad shoulders and reveals all the firm muscles and the sexy tattoos on his tall, athletic body.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who drops his serious act the moment he climbs into the ring and instead smirks his most charming smirk and lifts a hand to casually wave at his fans, letting them celebrate him as if he already won.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose last glance before every match belongs to you, though. As much as he enjoys the attention and worship from his fans, he always loves your gaze on him the most. You are the one who grounds him before a fight, the one who gives him the strength and the right mindset to lead him to victory.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose maroon eyes look directly into yours while he kisses his boxing gloves, at the same spot where your lips left their kisses a few minutes ago backstage. And right before he turns around to face the referee and his opponent, he winks at you and mouths, "I'll win this fight for you, baby".

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who already mocks his opponent before the fight even starts. Smiling tauntingly at him and asking him if he is scared. "You know, you can still run, little boy."

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who looks so sexy during his fights. All of his attacks are powerful and well-planned. He moves gracefully through the ring, like a big cat on the prowl, beautiful and deadly. Everyone can see that he isn't someone who just relies on his brute strength. Sukuna is intelligent, and he uses his mind to win his fights.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who is both hated and loved by the judges. They hate how cocky he is but admire his skills and respect him for how well-prepared he is for his matches.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who wins most of his fights with a knockout, laughing triumphantly when the referee counts down the seconds.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who only loses fights when he gets disqualified for committing a foul. Sometimes, he bites his opponents, drawing blood with his sharp teeth and laughing as he licks the blood off his lips. You know that this is also part of Sukuna's strategy. He is too controlled to let himself get carried away during a fight, but he loves the reputation those bloody attacks give him, basking in the fear he sees in his opponents' eyes when he whispers to them before a fight, "Did you see the guy I bit last month? Let's see how your blood tastes on my tongue."

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who is brilliant at blocking punches but also cannot be stopped if he gets hit. You used to be worried sick when you saw him receiving blows to the head until Sukuna reassured you that he is allowing it on purpose. It's all for the show. And sometimes, because he craves the pain since, it will spur him on even more.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who laughs after every punch his opponent lands, smirking cat-like as he licks the blood off his cracked lip, and his wild maroon eyes glitter amusedly at the other guy: "Aww, was that all you can do, brat? Gimme more, come on! Punch me! Make me bleed for real, you coward!"

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who looks so sexy with his tattooed skin all sweaty, every muscle in his tall, strong body taut. His veins standing out, and his broad chest rising and sinking as he breathes deeply. The outline of his long, thick cock visible through his dark red boxing shorts, making you want him so much.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who wears a sexy smirk on his beautiful tattooed face when he gets declared winner. He looks deeply into your eyes when the referee yanks his hand into the air to signal his win. This first moment is always for you alone, mesmerizing maroon eyes silently telling you that Sukuna dedicates this win to you.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who then punches his fist into the air and does a little round in the ring to let the crowd celebrate him like the King that he is. He is a professional, giving his fans what they crave, even while he craves something very different at that moment after a match.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who expects you to wait for him in his private locker room backstage, naked and wet, with your legs spread, ready to get taken by him.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who takes you rough and hard. He needs to fuck you to come down again after being so pumped up during his fight. His tall, muscular body is still dripping with sweat, smelling so sexy, a mix of sweat and musk and his expensive cologne. His breath is loud and harsh in your ear, turning into low, hoarse groans as he pounds your cunt with his cock and his heavy balls, just like he pounded his opponent with his fists.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who rubs your swollen clit firmly and whispers dirty things in your ear, making sure you give him your everything and squirt all over him when you cum on his fat cock.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who coos at you and calls you his good girl, his love, as he chases his own orgasm, finally allowing himself to let go, fucking you with hard erratic thrusts, his face buried in your neck, moaning loudly until he captures your lips in a heated kiss when he shoots his hot cum into your cunt.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who cuddles you afterward, pressing himself tightly against you while he is still buried balls-deep inside you, resting his forehead against yours and thanking you for being his lucky charm and the one who gives him strength. He stays like that, pressing you down with his heavy body, kissing you tenderly until his breathing finally calms down and the sweat on his body begins to dry.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who picks you up and murmurs to you, "Hold on to me, princess," before he carries you to the shower, not letting go of you even for a second, needing his princess on his cock and in his arms.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who showers with you and lets you wash him, sighing when you massage shower gel into his taut muscles, caressing him, and cleaning him, easing the tension in his body.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who returns the favor and lets his large, calloused hands wander gently over your naked and soaped-up body while he kisses you nonstop. Who caresses another orgasm out of you while you stroke his long thick cock slowly, making him spill his seed all over your hand.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who isn't the famous boxer, The King of Curses, anymore, when he is here under the shower with you. Here he is just Sukuna, your fiancé, who is joking around with you, all playful again, grinning that sexy grin and kissing you so sweetly, whispering against your skin how much you mean to him, and asking you where you want to have a late dinner tonight.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who fucks you once more, this time against the shower wall with your legs wrapped tightly around his hips and your hands in his pink hair. But this time, it is slow, sensual lovemaking. Slow, deep thrusts and tender French kisses until you both find completion at the same time and moan into each other's mouth. The perfect finish for a successful match.

HE IS SO SEXY 😭😭 I didn't know I would write so much for Boxer!Sukuna, but I enjoyed it so much to think of his dramatic ring-entrance show and the way he boxes, etc. I hope you enjoyed it too!!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

Update: There is a Part 2 now, in which Boxer!Sukuna and Reader have a baby together

[bueckers]

𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐄 ━━━ 𝐏𝐁

a/n | heavily inspired by that clip of caitlin & gabbie LOL. kind of a blurb

summary: paige gets caught looking at you a certain way on camera while you’re practically fuming during a game.

warning(s): just sexual tension & out of pocket comments, suggestive

pairing: paige bueckers x teammate!reader

The game against NC State was remarkably close, an unexpected challenge for only the second game of the season. As the third quarter dwindled to its final minutes, a sense of frustration began to set in. You found yourself doing everything in your power to gain composure.

The same girl had been targeting you all night, her aggressive play becoming increasingly blatant as the game progressed. Your patience was wearing thin, and when she charged at you once again, a surge of anger propelled you forward, ready to confront her. However, before you could react, Paige, Aubrey, and Ines intervened, stepping in to hold you back before you did something you’d regret.

Geno had benched you, which only added more fuel to the fire. When the other team called a timeout, the rest of the team was sent to the benches, but Paige was quick to run over to you. As soon as the whistle blew, you got out of my seat and jogged over to the referee, determined to explain that he had made the wrong call. He had been the entire game. Your frustration, however, got the better of you, and your words came out heated. The referee was clearly unimpressed with your complaints and wasn’t budging.

Paige stepped in front of you, concluding your one-sided heated conversation with the referee. She grabbed your arm with one hand and placed the other on your lower back to guide you away. “C’mere,” she mumbled, steering you back to the bench. You sat down, a little calmer than before but still huffing and puffing that you hadn’t gotten to say everything you wanted to.

Paige sat next to you, her entire body turned in your direction as she nearly fell off the seat. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and she knew exactly what to do to get you to calm down. “Talk to me,” she threw out huskily, knowing you had to actually get what you had to say out before resting. You were already on it.

“That girl has been all over me all night,” you began, words tumbling out in a rush. “Do you know how many fouls I’ve been cheated out of? It’s like she’s got it out for me. And the refs are fucking blind to it—this is bullshit..”

As you rambled on, Paige couldn’t tear her eyes away from you. She was perplexed at how you could look so good even while angry. Her eyes darted between yours and your lips the entire time, her lips slightly parted. Though you were loud, she barely heard a word, her ears blocking out all of the trash talk you let flow. Paige was captivated, caught between her desire to comfort you with reassuring words and letting you take her in the locker room after the game, which seemed to intensify with every fiery word you spoke.

Her head rested in one of her hands, and just as you finished speaking you turned to her, catching her lingering gaze on your lips. This out of all things made you crack a smile. “Paige,” you snapped her out of her short daze, her eyes averting back to yours.

“Yeah?” she mumbled, sitting up straighter now as she reached her hands behind her head to adjust her ponytail.

Your eyes followed her without your head moving for a moment, your smile only growing bigger as you realized why she was staring at you that way. “What?” she questioned, her smile being heard through it, faking her oblivion as she looked at you.

“You’re so fucking horny, bro.” you shook your head, smiling bright at her as she threw her head back, laughing, but she didn’t disagree. What you didn’t know, was that your interaction was caught on camera being televised—and of course screen recorded.

user1. lip readers get on this 😭

user2. Paige is down bad CONFIRMED

user3. The way she’s looking at her omg I physically can’t

user4. PAIGE MADISON BUECKERS!?!?

user5. are they dating?

user6. No

user7. I hope so

user8. nooo way this is real LMFAOOO

user9. her eyes shifting between her lips and eyes ohhh she’s so down bad

user10. FRIENDS DON’T LOOK AT FRIENDS THAT WAY!?!?

user11. wouldn’t be surprised if they’re fucking

user12. these comments are crazy as hell 😭

[tojipie]

mma fighter toji? (im so happy tk see that you’re back btw ❤️)

i really do think this is the best ask i’ve ever gotten pls feel proud of ur brain before u go to bed tonight bc ily. wrote this on the verge of falling asleep if u see any spelling error no u did not.

mma fighter!toji x reader | 1k words

content: violence, injury, blood, reader objectified by stranger

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“you got it, you got—don’t fucking look at her, look at me fushiguro!” your boyfriend’s manager yells, holding a bucket to the younger man’s heaving chest with a sigh.

toji nods at the command, taking a swig of water and spitting into the vessel before wiping his mouth with an ungloved hand. fighters never drank in the ring, it’d only settle heavy in your stomach. make you easier to catch.

blood and saliva drip down his chin and onto the floor of the ring, bright red patters against black mesh.

you watch the veins in toji’s neck pulse underneath sweaty skin, decorated with swirls of black and grey ink. his tattoos extend down his chest and back, working to cover the mess of purple and blue bruises across his body.

on his rib lies a scrawl of your name, etched into his skin for millions to see every time he stepped into the ring.

the raven haired man says something unintelligible to his team before smacking his temple with his glove, almost as if he was trying to knock something back into place.

you cringe at the thought of a brain injury so early into his career. you’d heard stories before, world class fighters reduced to shells of themselves. shot memories, seizures, even paralysis. you try not to think too deeply about it.

the TV screens in front of you pan to across the ring to his opponent. ryomen sukuna, 2 years into his career with every title under the sun.

everything except heavyweight champion. the name belonging to the winner of this very match.

sukuna was terrifying, completely unfazed by the rivets of blood pouring from his temple and left nostril. you’d quite literally watched him pop his nose back into place during the first break after your boyfriend had dealt a serious blow to it. to say this man scared you was an understatement.

toji notices your anxiety, leaning against the mesh wall of the ring to look down at you in the front row.

“you watchin’?” he yells with a grin, barely coherent over the mixed sounds of cheers and boos.

you smile, though your boyfriend scowls at the onslaught of paparazzi trying to capture the tender moment. he spits at the see-through wall of the ring to serve as an unspoken “fuck you.” cheers ring out from the sidelines as the screens capture the interaction.

toji turns to you and pushes off of the mesh wall, throwing his hands out with a “tsk” and a shake of his head.

“you worried about me baby?” he teases, fully aware that the cameras are still on him. “you don’t gotta worry about me, right?.”

you laugh, motioning for security to shoo any onlookers off. the mix of adrenaline and attention was clearly getting to him, though you loved when he got cocky like this. he always fucked you hardest after a big win.

the two men settle back into the middle of the ring, the referee separating them with an stern arm. sukuna looks down at you with an unreadable expression, pinning you to your seat with just a glance. toji’s pink-haired opponent turns back to him with a sinister grin, taking out his mouthguard to speak clearly. you only manage to make out the end of his insult, blood running cold as his words register.

“..and after they give me that title? i might fuck that little girlfriend of yours, fushiguro.”

toji says nothing, expression blank. you begin to wonder if he even heard the other man, but the buzz signifying round 3 pulls you out of your thoughts. you brace for whatever may come next.

sukuna is a brick wall, but toji’s light on his feet, weaving in and out of punches with his gloves guarding his face.

he’s faster than usual, spurred on by adrenaline and anger.

he lands a kick to sukuna’s ribs, the sickening crunch reaching the front row right on impact. definitely two, maybe even three broke ribs you hear a fan spectate.

his opponent curses, landing two punches to his chest before knocking toji to the ground, just barely missing the raven haired man with a solid blow right as he springs upwards.

“you gonna fuck her?” toji scoffs, landing another kick to sukuna’s injured ribs. you can barely make out their conversation even with a front row seat, you doubt anyone in the stands has been able to understand them this whole time.

the pink-haired man winces on impact, his first show of weakness since the beginning of the match.

“huh? tell me.” your boyfriend muses, dodging a kick and throwing sukuna to the floor. cheers ring out in the stadium at the direct show of brutality, you cover your mouth in anticipation.

toji settles his body weight on the man below him, twisting his arm as far as it will go while keeping his face to the floor. his legs wrap around and under the second man, squeezing his injured ribs like a vice with his thighs.

sukuna lands a blow with his free arm, then another, then another. toji does nothing, holding his opponent down with a smile almost too wide, too sinister.

“fuck.. fuck!” sukuna yells, struggling under the weight of the man above him.

the crowd is in hysterics, the announcers are out of their seats. “an unprecedented burst of energy,” you hear them call it. nothing like they’d ever seen before during any of toji’s matches.

you have to fight off the ego boost it gives you, knowing he’s only fighting this hard for you. because another man dared to speak on your name in his presence.

toji takes a couple more punches with that same smile, finally grabbing his opponent’s free arm to render the other man motionless.

you stagger out of your seat, running into the isle to get a better view of the ring.

the referee crouches by the two men, waiting to call the match. sukuna shares a look with third man, groaning before tapping toji’s wrist three times.

the crowd is animalistic. screams, wails, jeers, all of it meshes together within seconds.

toji’s security forms a circle around you, leading you towards the ring as fans flood the isles in celebration.

that was it, he’d won the title. Fushiguro Toji, heavyweight champion.

sukuna is led out of the ring by his team, choosing to forego any post-match interviews. he doesn’t dare look at you as he passes you on the steps, humiliated beyond belief.

calls of your name echo out from the center of the ring, your boyfriend pushing past paparazzi to scoop you into his arms.

the heat from his torso melts into yours as he clutches you to his body. he’s sweaty, practically bleeding from every direction too. but he’s smiling.

it’s not the smile he puts on for press, a quick flash of perfect teeth to keep the morale light, keep his sponsors happy. not the sinister smile he flaunts during matches either, fueled by bloodlust and pure adrenaline.

not even the cocky smile he puts on for the crowd when the match gets tough, the one that gets his opponents mad, gets the crowd hit and bothered.

this smile is soft, private. a small show of love in a sea of flashing cameras and prying eyes. this smile says “i love you, I do this for you.”

you reach for his face, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. toji wipes the blood—his— from your lips with a calloused thumb, pulling your head to his chest with a soft murmur.

“i love you.”

[kodasmind]

United front

Rhea X Reader X Damian

The crowd at Monday Night Raw was electric, the energy pulsating through the arena as fans eagerly awaited the next match. You stood backstage with Rhea Ripley, both of you watching the monitor as Damian Priest made his way to the ring. He was set to face JD McDonagh in what promised to be an intense bout.

"He's got this," Rhea said, her eyes fixed on the screen.

"Of course he does," you replied, sharing her confidence. Damian was a force to be reckoned with, and you knew he wouldn't go down easily.

The match began, and Damian took control early on, his power and agility on full display. However, as the fight progressed, JD managed to turn the tide, using his speed and technical skills to keep Damian on his toes. The two traded blows, each near-fall causing the crowd to gasp.

Just when it seemed Damian was about to secure the victory, Finn Bálor appeared at ringside. You felt a knot of dread form in your stomach as Finn slid into the ring, attacking Damian from behind. The referee called for the bell, disqualifying JD and awarding the match to Damian. But the assault didn't stop there.

As the bell rang, Dom Mysterio, Kalisto, and Liv Morgan joined Finn and JD, surrounding Damian. They began to pummel him, their combined assault overwhelming him. The crowd erupted in boos, but the beating continued.

"Come on, we have to help him!" Rhea shouted, already sprinting towards the curtain. You were right behind her, adrenaline surging through your veins.

Bursting onto the stage, the crowd's reaction shifted to cheers as you and Rhea charged towards the ring. Rhea slid in first, immediately going after Liv Morgan, her strength and fury on full display. You followed, targeting Kalisto with a series of rapid strikes.

The brawl was chaotic, each side trying to gain the upper hand. You managed to land a solid kick on Kalisto, sending him stumbling back. Rhea, meanwhile, lifted Liv and tossed her out of the ring with a powerful slam. Finn and JD turned their attention to you, but Damian, fueled by your support, fought back with renewed vigor.

He grabbed Finn, delivering a punishing chokeslam that shook the ring. You and Rhea teamed up against JD, your combined efforts finally driving him out of the ring. With Dom, Kalisto, and Liv already retreating, the attackers regrouped on the outside, glaring up at the three of you.

The crowd roared in approval as you helped Damian to his feet. He nodded his thanks, a determined look in his eyes. "Thanks for the save," he said, his voice hoarse from the fight.

"Anytime," Rhea replied, a fierce grin on her face. "They won't mess with you when we're around."

You gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "We're a team. We've got your back, always."

As the three of you stood tall in the ring, the fans cheered louder, the bond between you, Rhea, and Damian stronger than ever. You knew there would be more battles to come, but together, you were unstoppable.

[patscorner]

could u write kate martin x reader where they’re huge basketball rivals who end up falling in love?? maybe it starts out as like a secret relationship and then the media finds out and goes crazy abt it!!

also i love love love ur writing sm

Absolutely! Love you!

Rivals

Summary: The Gophers and Iowa have a generational rivalry with each other, tensions dating back years. What happens when one of Iowa's top players injures you?

wc: 3,248

Contains: slightly suggestive, mentions of blood, insta posts at the bottom, not proofread well, hella long

______________________________

The Minnesota Gophers vs. the Iowa Hawkeyes was one of the oldest rivalries in women’s college basketball history. Whether it’s overly aggressive plays, double technicals every couple minutes, and shoves being exchanged. It’s tradition at this point to have one or two chippy moments at one of these games.

So it’s no surprise when tonight is no different. It’s tied, 83-83 in the third quarter with two minutes and thirty-six seconds left. The air is so filled with tension, it was like a heavy cloud of negativity loomed over both teams. Patience was thin on both benches, and everyone, even the people watching from home could feel it.

You’d been guarding Kate all night, and to say it was a challenge would be an understatement. She was agile and quick on her feet, and in some cases, she just managed to slip through your defensive skills. But, you were able to keep up with her, following and predicting her moves closely. She got a couple shots on you, but you didn’t let that stir your determination.

You were on your A game offensively tonight, too. Whether it was weaving through players with ease, calling good screens, or taking risky threes, you were doing it all.

It was paying off, too. Until the beginning of the fourth quarter. The game had just resumed, you guarding Kate once more. She’d been more physical, which you weren’t expecting, but you adapted, quickly matching her energy.

You had gotten the offensive rebound, running back to the Iowa basket, Kate hot on your tail. You get into position to make a layup, but Kate is right there to block your shot. She smacks the ball, but her momentum sends her body into yours, sending you flying to the ground.

You crash into the base of the basketball hoop, back hitting the floor first, followed by your head smacking into the stanchion. You squeal loudly, but the crowd's deafening cheers drowned out any noises you could’ve made. You’d made the layup, but that was the least of your concerns.

You’re grabbing your head, rolling over on your side, trying to find a position that relieves some of the pounding that has started in your head. Kate immediately goes to check on you, but that doesn’t last long when your teammates push her out of the way to get to you. One of your teammates starts yelling at Kate, who yells back, and the referee's whistle pierces through the air, signaling technicals for both players.

You’re still curled up under the basketball hoop, holding the back of your head, when you feel a warm liquid. You pull your hand away, and your eyes widen as you stare at your crimson cover palm.

Everyone who knows you, knows you hate blood. The red liquid sends a wave of nausea to your already banged up head, and you close your eyes to avoid the tears falling, and to relieve some of the tension that the lights were causing. The crowd silences as the camera shows you looking at your hand in horror.

Your breathing picks up as you continue to look at your hand. Tears fall from your eyes as you start to hyperventilate, unaware that eventually the lack of oxygen would cause you to lose consciousness.

You're only out for about 30 seconds, but that was more than enough time for you to be surrounded. You wake up to the athletic training staff, your teammates, and the coaching staff around you. You're running on autopilot, so the first thing you try to do is sit up, which doesn’t end too well for you. You attempt to lift your head off the ground, but a sharp pain shoots down your back, causing you to gasp loudly.

“Shh-stay still, honey.” one staff member assures you. You groan in response, feeling multiple hands on you at once. You don’t say anything as you try to roll over on your stomach and attempt to relieve the pain in your back. You have a pounding headache and have no idea what’s going on or what happened.

“You gotta stop moving. The ambulance is on the way.” You freeze at these words.

Ambulance?

You have no idea what happened but all you know is that you have a basketball game to play. "W-we gotta play.” You croak out, looking at your teammates, tears brimming your eyes. You watch through blurry eyes as they shake their heads.

“No, kid, I think you're done for the night."

"No, no, n-no we gotta play- we're so close." You whimper out shakily. A couple of your teammates turn their heads, your statement making an already emotional moment even more heart-wrecking.

You feel someone grab your hand and rub it soothingly, attempting to distract you from the increasing pain in your spine. The Iowa bench was kneeling out of respect, because rivals or not, they weren't fucking monsters.

You sigh, accepting that you were done for the night and probably a while after. “What happened?” You whispered to no one in particular. You felt someone adjust the towels that you didn’t realize were under your head. The once white towels were colored now, and you felt sympathy for whoever had to clean them after.

“You fell kid, but you’re gonna be okay.” one of your teammates says. You hum in response.

All you could do is pray that she was right.

The crowd gave you a standing ovation as you were put on the stretcher and wheeled into the back of the ambulance. Despite their attempts to keep you awake, the loss of blood made it hard for you to keep your eyes open.

On the way to the hospital, they check your memory, which is pretty good, all except the moments leading up to the incident. All you remember is the girl that ran into you. When they get you to the hospital, they run their tests and find out that you had a pretty bad concussion, along with a crack in your spine. It’s safe to say you were done for the season.

Eventually, you were released, immediately starting physical therapy and, put in crutches and given a body wrap. You finally check your phone, and you see thousands of overwhelming messages from friends, family, and teammates. You respond to a couple of them, informing them that you were okay before going to instagram. Normally, you’d stay off of social media, but you needed something to distract yourself.

You’ve got hundreds of notifications on there, too, but one stands out the most.

A message from @katemartin

Just wanted to sincerely apologize for knocking you down the other night, I hope you know it wasn’t intentional. I don’t know if you’ll even read this, but you’re in my thoughts and prayers. Opponents or not, you’re a good player, and it’s devastating to see you injured. Get well soon.

Your heart swells at the message, as tears start to brim your eyes. You don’t know what to say, because this has never happened to you before. Usually, when someone gets injured, they get a pat on the back, and that’s it. But she went out of her way to message you.

You heart her message before typing a message back to her.

Thank you for the prayers, I know it wasn’t intentional, I watched the playback. I appreciate the message.

After you click send, you decide to leave it and begin scrolling through your feed. Nothing interesting comes up until you see Kate doing a post-game press conference. She’s asked her thoughts on the collision between you two.

“It was a basketball play. I had no intention of slamming into her like that. She’s an amazing player, like I seriously look up to her. The way she carries herself and the way she plays, that’s an example I think a lot of people should learn from.” she takes a deep, shaky breath, clearly trying to keep her composure. It breaks your heart to see her this shaken up about you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for being a part of the reason she’s not playing. Everyone deserves to do the things they love, and it’s not fair that I took that from her. Our teams may be hella competitive rivals, but despite that, this is a sisterhood. We aren't friends, but never would I ever wanna hurt her like that. It was an accident.” Kate’s voice cracks at the end, and her teammate rubs her back as she looks down.

“It was an honor to play with her, and I wish her the best.” she finishes, before the clip ends.

You’re in tears by the end of it, and you just want to give her a giant hug, tell her that you forgive her, and that you’ll be back on the court in no time. But instead, you stick with responding to her message she had just sent you.

How are you doing?

It’s been 4 months since your injury, and you’ve been talking to Kate non-stop. You and her had been texting back and forth, calling, and falling asleep on facetime. A lot of the time was talking about nothing in particular, with a couple updates as to where you are in your recovery.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart tighten when you talk to her. It’s like a breath of fresh air. Even though you were barely around her, you felt like you were missing something whenever you two weren’t having a conversation. You knew you were falling and falling hard. Little did you know, Kate was falling just the same.

Kate couldn't sleep well to begin with, but now she definitely couldn't sleep without talking to you. She couldn't go a minute without thinking about what you were doing, what you were wearing, what you were thinking. It got so bad that her teammates were practically begging her to ask this mystery girl out. Her daydreams were distracting her from her practices, the way she played in games, and her schoolwork.

Finally, (after Caitlin went on a ten minute rant about how painfully in love she was), Kate found the confidence to ask you out on a phone call. She was nervous and stuttering over her words, her face painted a beautiful pink.

"Maybe we could hang out sometime, like by ourselves. Like we could go to like the movies-or maybe out to eat somewhere. Or-or not, y'know we could hang out with other people, like our teammates, like not together because I don't think they like each other very much, but we could like not tell them, or we could tell them b-"

You cut off her rambling with a laugh, finding her anxiousness adorable. "Kate 'Money' Martin are you asking me out?" You ask, raising your eyebrows teasingly.

You watch as her face reddens even more, her teeth capturing her bottom as she playfully rolls her eyes at your mocking tone. "Y'know what, never mind. I take it back." She smiles at you.

"Oh, no, no, you got me locked in now." You say smiling softly back at her.

"Is that a yes…?" Kate asked in a joking manner, but you could sense a serious undertone to it.

You bite your lip lightly, staring at the blonde on your phone screen.

"Whatcha got in mind?"

Kate made the six hour drive to Minnesota that Saturday after booking a hotel room not far from campus. As much as you would've liked her to stay with you, you knew your dorm mates wouldn't approve of having her in your shared space. They knew you were talking to someone, but you were very cautious about when you talked to Kate, often doing it fairly late into the night when they were asleep or not home. You thought you were doing a good job, as they never brought up anything about it.

Either way, to not draw attention, you both decided it'd be best if you went super late at night, knowing that the second the public finds out Kate was in Minnesota, rumors would fly, and the media would go crazy. So, you came up with a shifty excuse to be out of the house at three a.m. on a random Saturday morning. You had no idea what Kate had set up, you just knew that you were meeting her at a random park near campus.

Turns out Kate had the date very planned out, from how long it would take to get from point A to point B, to where'd you'd be sitting. She took you to the beach, and even though it was dark, the sounds of the water crashing onto shore was enough for you.

Then she paid, against your will, for sushi. You went into the restaurant and you both sat in the car and ate your meal. Conversations flow smoothly all night, without a single moment of uncomfortable silence. The evening was filled with laughter and lighthearted banter, the both of you losing track of time until the sun started to bleed into the night sky.

You both were tired, tangled in the bed of Kate's truck, basking in each other's company. You were so comfortable, and you never wanted this moment to end. Kate was different from anybody else you'd ever met before. Even though this was the first time you'd even hung out with her, you wanted nothing more than to hold her forever. And to make her yours.

"What're you thinkin' about?" She asked, breaking the silence and pulling you from your thoughts. You're laying on her chest, her arms wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close.

You look up at her and find her gaze already in you. "The sun's coming up." You whispered, licking your lips. Her eyes trail down to them before finding their way back to your eyes. The way she looks at you almost makes you fold right then and there.

"Hmm." Kate responded as her eyes made their way back down to your lips and stayed there. After a moment, you brought your hand up to her cheek to direct her eyes back to yours. You smile as her face turns a bright shade of red.

"You're so pretty." She whispers as she seemingly examines your face. Now it's your turn to blush.

It almost makes you angry, the urge to kiss her lips. You want nothing more than to pour all your words into one kiss.

Fuck it.

You push your lips to hers, passionately expressing your feelings for her wordlessly. It takes her a second to process what's going on, but as soon as she does, she's melting under your touch. She's like putty in the palm of your hand at this point.

You adjust your body, lifting yourself so that the both of you are facing each other. You wrap your arm around her waist, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. Your moment catches Kate off guard, causing her to moan lightly. You smile before pulling away.

Pants fill the air as you both attempt to catch your breath, letting the tension linger in the air. "Holy shit." Kate lets out a breathy laugh.

You chuckle with her, rubbing her waist absent-mindedly.

She rolls over back on her back, staring at the sky, you mimic her actions, sighing deeply. You can sense that the end of your date is near as the sun rises.

"I have to go." Kate whispers. You nod, reaching down and intertwining your fingers. You were right.

Over the next five months, you and Kate took turns seeing each other in the same way, at night, mostly ending up with you two touching each other (in more than one way). It was starting to get exhausting to hide it from your teammates, so eventually, Kate let it slip, and they weren't surprised. They already had their suspicions since the injury.

You weren't too pleased when she told you she'd revealed your secrets, but you were relieved that they didn't hate you. It gave you enough confidence to comfortably tell your team, who, like the Iowa team, wasn't surprised or upset at the idea of you and Kate being together.

It lifted a huge weight off your guys' chest, feeling better about leaving at two or three in the morning. The longer your relationship went on, the more comfortable you both got.

This was both good and bad, as you fell more in love with each other every day. But it also came with the desire to see each other more, which led to you both growing impatient and making sloppy mistakes. It started with you accidentally posting a picture of you holding Kate's hand on your public story instead of your close friends, like you had intended. Even though you couldn't see her face, you knew some people would be able to figure who it was, plus, at that point, it was an early relationship, and neither of you were ready for that kind of attention. Luckily, you deleted it before anyone could see it, but it was too close of a call for your liking.

Another slip-up happened a month later, where you posted a picture in Kate's hoodie, but you were able to pretend that you both happened to have the same hoodie.

The last straw, though, was Kate being recognized by a fan while pumping gas. You ducked down in the trunk as you watched the fan approach her and ask for an autograph and picture, which she agreed to.

The fan had a short conversation with her, which you later found out they had asked about why Kate was in Minnesota. The best Kate could come up with was that she was 'visiting a friend', which you teased her about her lack of an answer.

The fan posted about Kate being in Minnesota and why, and it shocked the internet. Some fans had done a deep dive and found dots that connected you to Kate, such as the hoodie picture. At this point, you both were tired of hiding, tired of not being able to go out during the daylight or support each other during games.

So you both decided it was time to let the people know.

Yourusername

liked by katemartin and 294,210 others

yourusername: Find your person. They make life worth living

user| oh??

user| mystery woman?

user| I knew it

-> user| I feel like we all know who this is at this point

katemartin

liked by yourusername and 968,148 others

katemartin: You're my end and my beginning, even when I lose, I'm winning

user| no wait a minute

user| pov: the dots are connecting

user| my fav enemies to lovers story

caitlinclark22| took you long enough 🙄

-> yourusername| something you'd like to share with the class Martin??

-> katemartin| @caitlinclark22 I hate you.

->katemartin| @yourusername … no…

-> caitlinclark22| @katemartin you should be thanking me 🤗(pay up)

-> user| Caitlin in the comments has me cackling

user| Caitlin instigated is something I didn't know I needed

-> caitlinclark22| I did not instigate… just gave a gentle shove

-> katemartin| @caitlinclark22 I will gently shove you off a cliff 😍😄

->caitlinclark22| awww ur so cute😗

______________________________

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @breeloveschris

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch. 3 returning the favor

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

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

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 3/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 4.5k

a/n. hope you enjoy! i really had fun incorporating a lot of the other characters in this one.

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

|| 9:21AM Gojo Satoru sent you a photo

|| 9:22AM Gojo Satoru: Here’s our practice schedule for the week. Honestly, it’s better if you come when we do practice games or something, since on other days we just do drills or strength training, but coach doesn’t really tell us what we’re doing beforehand so would probs have to play it by ear

|| 9:27AM Gojo Satoru: Oh yeah, we’ve got a big game in three weeks on the 28th. It’ll decide if we’re automatically seeded into the top 16 teams bracket, which is really crucial if we want to eventually bring home the championship. Not sure when your assignment is due, but that would be a good official game to come to 

|| 9:28AM Gojo Satoru: Let me know as soon as you can if you want to make that game. I’ll have to ask coach to get the referee sign-off for you to be on-field during play at least a week before

You look down at all the messages he was sending you during class on a Monday morning. After he sent you that house party details post from his fraternity’s Instagram page last week, their posts kept popping up in your feed and you saw one this morning with a bunch of the guys in the frat, Gojo included, shotgunning beers until 3AM last night. You marvel at how he’s somehow not hungover beyond repair and is texting you before noon. 

Pressing and holding on to his messages, you give him little thumbs up reactions and you decide on a heart reaction for the picture he sent you of the practice schedule. Then, you set your phone down and look at the video of the men’s soccer team highlights your professor was playing from the game a week and a half ago.

“Here, here, this right here. Midfielder #24 surveyed the field, spotting #13 making a run for it down the flank. Pinpoint pass to left winger, who starts steering through defenders, but loses the ball. Then, center forward #10 steals the ball back! He steals the ball, he fucking steals the fucking ball back!” Your professor was running back and forth in front of the projector screen, his finger following the movement of the soccer ball in the video. Your heart jumps a beat when Gojo shows up on screen, with his signature #10 jersey, and some people in the lecture hall stand up in excitement with the professor. “Beelines towards the goal, and BAM! Goalie stood no fucking chance, ball sent immaculately into the back of the net. Victory for UTokyo, 2-1, in the last seconds of the game!" Your professor cheers and jumps up and down. Some people cheer with him, others sigh, others are in awe, and some simply clap. 

Another entire lecture goes by where the professor spends absolutely no time going over film photography theory and instead just talks about how soccer used to be back in his day. You approach him after class, clutching your laptop case to your chest, and it’s only when you clear your throat in front of him that he finally looks up at you from the podium. 

“Oh, y/n, how can I help you?” He asks as he shoves his phone back in his pocket.

“Hey, professor. Bit of a request, could I have like two extra days for my assignment? There’s this event that I really want to use for the subject matter but it’s the day before the deadline, and I would need some time to develop my photos,” you say in the politest tone you can muster up.

“Yeah, sure. Just get it in before the end of the deadline week,” he says nonchalantly. “Looking forward to seeing it. Good work on the last one, by the way.”

You give him a smile and a word of appreciation before turning on your heel and making it up the stairs to exit the lecture hall, pulling your phone out of your tote bag. 

|| 9:53AM You: i can make it on the 28th. please get that referee permission for me

You press your lips together as you press send, and then type a bit more.

|| 9:54AM You: and thanks a lot

Your stomach is suddenly growling and you’re about to head over to the student hub when your phone starts ringing. You look down at the contact name that says Nobara and pick up.

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up,” you say as you make your way towards the heart of campus, enjoying the light breeze as the sun peeked through the clouds. 

“Where are you? Didn’t we have a Film Club meeting today?” She asks you, her tone a bit impatient. “We were supposed to discuss that collaboration with the school newsletter.”

Shoot. You forgot. These days, you were a bit too distracted by recent happenings, like Mina practically falling head-over-heels for a guy that was quite possibly the opposite of her type, the towering amount of class assignments that never seemed to end, and this whole arrangement you were trying to coordinate with Gojo Satoru. The Film Club meeting totally slipped your mind. You were supposed to head out of class a bit early to make it on time. “I’m so sorry, Nobara. I totally forgot about it. I’m unfortunately all the way on the other end of campus right now. I typed up some notes in the document, can you just run those by them? If we need anything else, I’ll reach out to them by email.” 

She sighs on the other end of the line. “Yeah. I’m not good at these conversations, but I guess as President I should be better at them anyways. I’ll let you know how it goes.” And then she hangs up. 

Mentally happy that you were at least free of one other obligation today, you prepare to make your way to the dining hall when your phone vibrates again.

|| 10:01AM Gojo Satoru: Will do, and sure thing. By the way, you free right now? Coach is having us do a practice game, probably for around 2 hours

You squint your eyes at his message, considering the opportunity. You didn’t have any other classes left for the day and were just going to grab something to eat before heading home, but now you wonder if you should make it to this practice session. He did say that you have to be flexible since he doesn’t even know exactly what they’ll end up doing before practice, so you figured this might be your only chance this week to practice capturing shots of them as they play, since it seemed like they had Tuesday & Friday off based on Gojo’s schedule picture. Unfortunately, you only brought your digital camera with you today since your film camera was too heavy to carry around unless you knew you needed it, but you can still do a lot with digital that would help for the film camera shoot. You could make it work.

|| 10:05AM You: yeah, i’m free. i was just gonna grab something to eat first, and then i’ll head over to the field in maybe 15 min. but i’m not exactly sure how to get onto the field, or where the entrance is…

He adds a heart reaction to your message which startles you a little bit. An accident, maybe?

|| 10:06AM Gojo Satoru: Lol, just meet me at that weird art sculpture they put up last semester. The one that cost like all of our tuition money. I’ll walk you to the field

You let out a sigh, somewhat nervous that you'll be seeing him again soon. The last time you saw Gojo was when you left him standing unceremoniously at the kitchen island with a somewhat offending comment. Nonetheless, he didn’t necessarily seem angry at you. Quite the opposite, actually. He’s been way more helpful than you had ever anticipated. You started to feel like the effort you put into getting Mina to go to that house party was nothing compared to the effort he was putting in for you to ace this assignment. 

Stopping by your school’s mini grocery store, you pick up a sandwich plus some strawberry vanilla soda, and take some bites as well as some sips as you leisurely make your way to the expensive art sculpture near the sports fields. As you get closer to it, you see Gojo from a distance talking to some people. A few of them were guys, a few of them girls, and he was laughing out loud at something one of the girls said. A part of you wonders what it’s like to be adored by so many people. 

When he spots you at the other side of the cross walk, he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he’s hurriedly saying goodbye to the group in front of him. Their heads turn to each other in confusion before turning their attention in your direction as he makes his way over to you.

“Hey,” he says as he lightly jogs up to the sidewalk you were standing on. You notice he’s wearing a black long sleeve undershirt with a short-sleeved blue one on top, along with some athletic black shorts and running shoes. When he brushes some of his hair away from where it had fallen near his eyes, your heart skips a beat at his handsome expression. A smile graces his face. “You ready?”

You nod, swallowing the mouthful of sandwich you didn’t realize you had stopped chewing, and follow his lead as the two of you cut across behind the batting cages of the school’s softball training area. Your eyes fell to Gojo’s back as he walked on the pavement. His shoulders were broad, shoulder blades pulling the upper half of the fabric of his clothing somewhat taut across as the rest of it freely flowed down to his lean lower back. The long sleeved shirt he wore underneath was pretty loose-fitting, but you could still see the thickness of his muscles. With every step that he took, his calves flexed in a way that made you realize he must really work out.

“What are you eating?” He says as he turns around to face you, walking backwards for a few paces as he looks at your hands.

“Oh, just a veggie sandwich,” you answer as you hold it up next to your face. “Campus delicacy.”

His smile widens. “And what are you drinking?” This time he asks with a bit more curiosity.

“It's strawberry vanilla soda,” you say as you juggle all of the things you were holding in your arms. 

“Can I have some?” He asks with a somewhat innocent tone. “The soda, I mean. I’ve never had that flavor.” 

You hesitate, but alas you were a people-pleaser. “Sure.” 

He halts his movements and so you do too, and he closes the gap between you two in one exaggerated stride. His hand gently pulls the soda bottle out from where it was tucked into your elbow to keep it from falling. You notice the veins on his hand get more defined as he squeezes & twists to release the cap and it sends something akin to a wave of arousal through your body, entirely startling you. But when he brings the bottle up to his lips with his head tipping backwards, drinking directly from it, neck bobbing as he swallows and a single drop trickles down the expanse of his jawline, the arousal directly hits you at your core. 

“Hm,” he licks his lips. “That’s pretty good.” 

You’re standing there in shock, your grip on your sandwich causing dents in the bread. He dabs the stray droplet of liquid at his chin with the back of his hand and turns around to keep walking ahead, making his way up the stairs onto what looks like a grassy field. It takes you a second to start moving too, and by then you need to do a light jog just to catch up to him. 

There’s a comfortable silence that develops between the two of you and when you glance at Gojo, you notice his eyes are closed and there’s a serene smile on his face, a gust of wind pushing the hair up out of his forehead and sending the blades of grass dancing across the hilly field. You smile too at the sensation of cool wind on your skin. It was a beautiful day outside with sparkling sunshine and quiet whistling wind.

“Can I ask you something?” You say after contemplating if you should interrupt his somewhat meditative state. 

“You can ask me anything,” he easily replies. 

“Why are you so willing to help me out with my assignment?” 

He turns his head to look at you with a neutral expression. “Because you did me a favor.” 

You sigh. “I know…but it really wasn’t that hard to convince Mina to go to that party. I feel like you’re helping me out way more than I helped you out.” A small ladybug lands on the fabric of your jeans and you marvel at it before it flutters its wings and flies away.

He’s silent for a second. “Honestly, when you agreed to help me out with Todo’s little crush, which by the way I had to do because I lost a bet, and you mentioned something about terms and conditions in your message,” he starts to say, a brief pause making its way between the sentence as if he was actively trying to relive that first night he was texting you, “I thought you were going to ask for something sexual in return.” 

Your mouth drops at his line of thinking, suddenly mortified. That’s how your message came across to him? Oh my God, you had to rethink how you texted everyone in your life from now on.

“I mean, weren’t you being a little flirty? ‘My terms and conditions will come later’. Or do I just have some weird sexual brain rot?” His eyes are still on you, his tone way too casual in your opinion for this sudden topic of conversation. You also realize that he thinks having sex with him would be returning you the favor. And then you try not to think about how good he probably is in bed. 

When you can’t think of what to say and just stare at him with wide eyes, he smiles and stretches his arms out in front of him as another gust of wind passes by. “Well, anyways, when you shared what you actually wanted from me and it ended up being a pretty earnest request…let’s just say I was emotionally moved by your dreams and aspirations.” He says that last part somewhat dramatically and you roll your eyes, sending him an annoyed look. “A little disappointed, but nonetheless moved.” 

“Wow, you’re the type of person that would trade favors for sex?” you ask him with a sneer to your tone. 

He sends a lazy smirk to you over his shoulder to where you’re trailing behind him now. “Not really, no, can’t say I’ve ever done it before,” he says slyly, “probably would’ve made an exception for you, though.” And then he’s giving you a wink.

You can’t help but blush a little. He was definitely just teasing you, some hobby of his that he does just to constantly get a kick out of the people around him since he knows he just has that much of an effect on them, so you try not to let his words get past your skin to the more vulnerable parts of you. He’s reading your expression before he speaks up again.

“We’ve already started this little return favor of yours, so no take-backs. It’s an eye for an eye. Not an eye for an eye and throw some casual sex in there, too.” He makes his way up what seems to be the largest hill across the field and he stops at the top, peering out at whatever was across from it. When you made your way to the top too, your eyes widened as you saw an expanse of flat grassiness covered in orange cones, green land markers, white chalk outlines, and netted goals. Oh, and a lot of men. “Alright, you freaky little photographer. Here are your muses.” 

You let out the breath you were holding in and smiled, hands immediately reaching for your digital camera case within your tote bag. A wave of creativity and inspiration hit you as you were finally able to lay your eyes on your subject matter and setting, and you couldn’t wait to get started. 

Gojo makes his way down the hill and you stumble after him. He high-fives a couple of his teammates that were leaving the first wave of practice and makes his way over where the second-wave practice players were stretching on the field and running laps.

“C’mon, Itadori, I’ve seen snails with a more urgent sense of direction than you! Pick up those goddamn knees!” You hear a loud voice from a few feet away from you and flinch, eyeing the scary looking man that had a…Pomeranian dog in his arms? He was wearing a black athletic jumpsuit and had extremely tinted, thick sunglasses on. His facial hair was a bit jarring and you immediately decided you were scared of him, despite how gently he was petting the little dog cradled in his arms. 

“That’s coach Yaga,” Gojo says beside you with a smile on his face and his hands on his hips. “Real nice guy.”

You turn to give him a suspicious look and he just returns it with a wider smile. 

“Hey! It’s y/n,” you hear a somewhat familiar voice call out and you glance at the direction it came from. You see Geto standing next to Nanami and he whacks his hand against the blonde's chest to get his attention when he makes eye contact with you before jogging over. You see Gojo put his hands in his shorts pockets in your periphery. “What are you doing here?” 

You give him a shy smile, suddenly embarrassed by the attention. “Here to take some photos.”

“Are you with the school newsletter?” Nanami’s smooth voice says as he approaches Geto, standing next to him. They both were wearing matching blue tracksuits. 

“No, I’m not. Just here to…take some photos for one of my classes. It’s for a film photography assignment.” You suddenly wished you were part of the school newsletter committee, so that you could at least provide them with some positive publicity with your photos. You wondered if they would think you’re just using them. As if Gojo could read your mind, he patted Geto harshly on the back and let out a loud, obnoxious laugh.

“Hear that, punks? She wants to try and take some nice photos of you lot. Be grateful! Of course, your grotesque appearances cannot simply be fixed by any technology yet known to man,” Gojo says rather loudly, continuing to smack Geto on the back. Geto has a small pitiful smile on his face and Nanami just looks annoyed. You feel lighter somehow, less tense. 

“Okay, cool, let us know if we can help in any way,” Geto says kindly as he sits down on the grass to continue stretching out his legs. “Oh by the way, Satoru, Chosou’s out sick today so you might need to cover for goalie.” 

“What? Why’s that fucker always getting sick?” Gojo says as he walks towards one of the duffle bags on the bench, and you assume it’s his. He pulls out a water bottle. “He needs to stop eating that goddamn grocery store sushi.” 

“Oh! Oh! It’s you,” another somewhat familiar voice calls out from ahead. You see a guy wearing a dark blue jacket that had a red hood approaching you from the inner field. Then you recognize he was that guy at the entrance of the house party that called you a- “It’s casual tomboy!” 

Your eye twitches slightly as you take in your appearance. Sure, you were wearing jeans again, but your top was somewhat stylish and feminine. He arrives in front of you and notices the digital camera hung at your neck. “Hey, what’s that?” He points directly at your midriff where the camera sat. He almost pokes his finger right through the delicate attachable lens that cost you nearly two months of rent.

“A little rude, Yuuji,” Geto says, grunting as he switches from one stretch to the other. 

Yuuji gets closer to you to study the camera and you instinctively lean away from him before Gojo is grabbing him by the hood of his jacket and yanking him away from you, Yuuji’s arms flailing out in front of himself in a struggle. “Hey, get back to practice. You’re not allowed to talk to pretty seniors.” 

Coach Yaga grunts and crosses his arms from where he stood a few feet away, the tiny pomeranian now barking at his feet. “I never said you could stop running laps, Itadori! Get your ass back out there! I’ll be sending you to recreational soccer for the rest of your freshman year if you don’t get your damn head straight!” Gojo lets go of Itadori’s hood and the poor boy is scrambling across the field to join what seems like the other first-years for their warm-up laps. Coach Yaga turns to you and gives a hmph before vaguely gesturing to you. “May I know what you’re doing out on my field?”

“Coach!” Gojo says, making his way over to the scary man. He slings his arm around his neck and the man just continues to glare at him through his sunglasses. “She’s with me today. Photographer y/n will be taking some handsome photographs of you that you can send to your wife, and then maybe your wife will actually want to-”

Coach Yaga puts Gojo in a headlock and Gojo’s instantly tapping on his back to get him to ease up. “I dare you to finish that sentence, boy.”

You let out a small laugh. This was certainly a lively bunch. Nanami approaches you and expresses interest in your camera. You lift it up for him to take a closer look. He pinches his chin between his bent index finger and thumb, as if he was a detective analyzing a crime scene. “I see…so this is a film camera.” 

“Ah…” you laugh awkwardly. “No, this is just a digital camera.” 

“I see…so this is a digital camera,” he repeats, equally as intrigued. 

The time eventually comes along where all the players start the practice match. There’s obviously not enough players out on the field for full teams on each side, but they’re split into 1st & 4th years vs. 2nd & 3rd years. You learn that the second wave practice group has the talented players at the top of each of their year groups. Gojo doesn’t seem to participate in the practice match despite one team having to omit having a goalie since the coach requested he sit out to watch the plays and make suggestions.  You’re a bit sad you don’t get to see him play, but figured you’ll have a chance in the future. You take a few snapshots as one of the other first-years, a quiet boy named Megumi, kicks the ball towards the goal that ends up bouncing off the goal frame. You spend some time tweaking the exposure, zoom, and focus until you feel like you have a pretty good idea of the settings you’ll need to get some fluid shots. 

When you look up over the field again, raising your digital camera to your face, you notice Gojo looking at you from across the field where he stood at the sidelines. You both keep your gaze on one another for a couple of seconds, and you boldly lift the camera up to your eye, taking a few snapshots of him. When you pull it away, look down at the results on the small screen, and then glance back up at him, his eyes are slightly wide. Something stirs within you when you remember his words from earlier: I thought you were going to ask for something sexual.

Your mind wanders back to the party from last weekend, and the feeling of him leaning down next to your ear in the kitchen as he said “Thanks, I owe you one. Find me later, ‘kay?” The memory itself made your cheeks feel warm. Did he…think that something was going to happen that night at the party? Probably would’ve made an exception for you…Disappointed, but nonetheless moved. Somewhere in the haziness of your thoughts, you realize that meant that Gojo would’ve wanted to sleep with you if that was indeed your condition.

When you look to the other side of the field again, Gojo’s eyes are still on you but his handsome face looks a bit troubled, eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly pursed. You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking, but for some reason you felt like he could tell what you were. When you raised an eyebrow at him, his face relaxed and he slowly shook his head as if to say it's nothing. 

Coach Yaga’s sharp whistle cuts through the silent conversation you two were having as he yells, “alright, boys. Practice over! Go stretch yourselves out.” 

You quickly stuff your digital camera back into its case and collect your things into your tote bag. In your peripheral vision, Gojo’s making his way over to you and when he’s right next to you, you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“How’d it go? Get some good shots?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested.

“Um, yeah, I think so.” You’re still not looking at him, pretending to fiddle with something in your tote bag. He leans down a bit to look at your face more clearly when he notices you’re not meeting his gaze, but you still struggle to make eye contact with him. “I’ve gotta go, can you tell the guys I said bye?” And then you’re making your way up the hill.

There’s a beat of silence as confusion washes over him from your behavior. “Hey, wait, y/n, do you know how to get back to campus?”

You spin to face him when you're at the top of the hill, finally looking him in the eye. There’s a concerned expression on his face. “Yes, I’ll be fine. Thanks a lot for today. Let me buy you a strawberry vanilla soda sometime, okay?” Flashing him a small smile, you turn around and run down the hill, ignoring the fast beating of your heart.

a/n. thanks a bunch for reading!

➸ take me to chapter four!

[prettymfwrites]

CaitVi Streamer Headcanons

Streamer Caitlyn x Streamer Vi x female Reader Headcanons

1. Streamer Chaos

Caitlyn’s streams are polished, focused, and often tactical, whether she’s dominating in FPS games or discussing strategies with her chat. She’s the analytical one, always reading her opponents and responding gracefully, even in defeat.

Vi, on the other hand, streams pure chaos. She’s loud, competitive, and incredibly reactive to the highs and lows of her games. Her stream often involves a lot of trash-talking, slamming the desk (lightly), and sometimes standing up mid-game to shout at the screen.

You? You’re their grounding force, occasionally wandering between the two setups to bring snacks, drinks, or calm them down when a particularly intense game has them riled up.

2. Cute Interactions on Stream

Sometimes, you appear on Vi’s stream just to egg her on. “Babe, Cait’s gonna destroy you again if you keep rushing in like that,” you tease, leaning into her frame.

Caitlyn's chat loves seeing you pop into her stream because you always bring a sense of calm. You’ll hand her a cup of tea or sneak a kiss to her cheek, prompting Caitlyn’s infamous deadpan: “Don’t let Vi see this,she might cry.”

When Caitlyn and Vi stream together, their streams are full of back-and-forth banter, playful insults, and moments of teamwork that go hilariously wrong. You’re often caught in the crossfire when they drag you into their antics.

3. Dinner Drama

After Caitlyn utterly demolishes Vi in an intense round of Apex Legends, Vi refuses to speak. You bring dinner to the table, trying not to laugh at her overdramatic huffs and pouts.

Caitlyn doesn’t help, though. She casually asks for a dinner roll, knowing full well it’ll set Vi off. As predicted, Vi flings the roll at Caitlyn, who dodges dramatically before laughing and picking it up. “You missed, sweetheart.”

Caitlyn leans over Vi’s chair, wrapping her arms around her and pressing teasing kisses to her cheek. “I can’t believe you let this unhinged mongoose beat you,” she murmurs, her tone dripping with amusement. Vi tries to hold back a smile, but her mumbled “shut up” only makes you both giggle harder.

4. Protective Moments

Vi’s chat can get rowdy, and while most fans adore your presence, there’s always a troll or two who makes snide comments about you. The first time it happens, Vi is not having it. She stops her game mid-round, fixes her camera with a death glare, and goes on a fiery rant about respecting her girlfriend.

Caitlyn, however, handles trolls differently. She’ll casually ban them without a second thought, coolly saying, “You’re clearly not here for the right reasons. Bye.” Her chat cheers her on every time.

You feel so loved by how fiercely they both protect you, though you often tell them not to worry about the comments. “They’re just jealous they don’t get dinner rolls thrown at them by Vi,” you joke.

5. Competitive Chaos

When Vi loses a game to Caitlyn (which happens often), she’ll dramatically collapse into your lap while you’re sitting nearby, whining, “Why are you with her when she’s such a bully?”

You can’t help but laugh, running your fingers through her hair. Caitlyn, from her desk, will smirk and say, “Because I bring her snacks and don’t break my keyboard after every loss.”

One time, Vi gets so worked up after losing three matches in a row that she challenges Caitlyn to a physical game of Mario Kart. You end up being the neutral referee, though you mostly just laugh as Vi leans so far into the turns she nearly falls off the couch.

6. Sweet Moments Behind the Scenes

After an exhausting stream, the three of you cuddle up on the couch. Caitlyn leans against your shoulder while Vi sprawls across both of you. Despite their competitive nature on stream, they’re both soft with you, taking turns to kiss your temple and thank you for always being there for them.

On Caitlyn’s birthday stream, you and Vi plan a surprise. Mid-stream, you burst into her room with a cake and balloons, and her normally calm demeanor breaks into pure joy. The chat floods with hearts as she pulls both of you into a hug, her headset awkwardly bumping against your face.

7. Dealing With the Drama

The three of you sit down together to discuss handling fan toxicity when it flares up. Caitlyn insists on stricter moderation rules, while Vi wants to call out every disrespectful fan by name.

“Babe, you can’t go to war with every troll,” Caitlyn tells Vi, amused.

“Watch me,” Vi responds, though she eventually agrees that focusing on the positive outweighs feeding into the negativity.

8. Fan Favorites

Fans adore how much Caitlyn and Vi clearly love you. Compilations of the three of you interacting flood YouTube and TikTok, with titles like "Cutest Streamer Trio Moments!"

Your favorite clip? The time Caitlyn leaned over to kiss Vi after a win, only for you to pop up in the background and say, “Forgetting something?” Both of them immediately pulled you into frame for kisses, and the chat exploded with comments about how lucky you all were to have each other.

---------

I take requests!

[three-realms-archive]

The RAD Cheer Squad

(Hi, hi! We’ve got some ideas in the inbox which i’m so so excited to get to - feel free to plop in some more! please read the rules in the pinned post first, tho.)

(for now, tho, have this stupidity.)

“Oh, my goodness…” Lucifer places his head in his hands.

“Oh, my goodness!” Asmo smiles wildly in excitement.

They lean forward in their seats, speaking at the same time… In entirely opposite tones.

The stadium erupts into applause. Demons are screaming, scrambling over each other to get a glimpse of the centre of the Fangol pitch. Ghosts are scurrying to focus their cameras on the scene unfolding there, which is streamed live to the big screen opposite the bleachers.

You wink at one of the cameras, then bat your eyelashes innocently as you giggle; hiding your mouth behind a set of glittery pom-poms. Another round of applause - and even louder cheering. Beel stands a little ways away with his team; who nudge and shove him playfully. They all know you too and the view on the screen changes to them hyping up the crowd and fondly sending you waves and salutes. The Avatar of Gluttony, a Ruler of the Underworld, has the goofiest, widest grin on his face as you cheekily blow him an exaggerated kiss. Another - another - chorus of applause.

You smile, satisfied.

It’s time to let your partner take the spotlight.

To the time of the marching band playing a rhythmic fanfare in the background, you spin, shimmy and sway your hips, showing off to the crowd. Asmo, Levi and Thirteen are waving fans and glowsticks. Satan and Mammon are clapping to the beat. Raphael and Simeon are smiling fondly, as Luke and Solomon make up silly cheerleading chants. You spot them where they’re sitting and flash your biggest smile. Then, just as choreographed, you give a dramatic pose. You wave to the audience. You gather all your strength… You take a deep breath… And you toss your pom-poms to…!

“… Lord Diavolo.” Lucifer and Mephistopheles groan, as the Crown Prince laughs heartily, sporting a cheerleading outfit identical to yours, in both design and size. He seems very happy, at least; even if he’s stiffly moving his hips in a circle and attempting cartwheels and backflips.

… Even if he’s accidentally flung one of his pom-poms into the face of the referee during one said-backflip.

…

… Even if he’s wearing the Devildom’s tightest miniskirt.

But, hey!

Now the crowd’s louder than ever!

(i’ve had this idea forever and initially wrote it with a much deeper backstory, all leading up to this single moment. but then i realised cheerleader!dia was pretty good on its own ahaha. if anyone ever does fanart of this pls pls pls send it my way.)

[chelseacultt]

I Should Hate You

Katie McCabe x Reader

Summary: Katie is tasked with marking you.

Word Count: 1.1k words

You knew that playing Arsenal at the Emirates would be a struggle. The roaring celebratory crowds anytime an Arsenal player started a run. The equally enthusiastic boos every time you and your teammates so much as touched the ball. Nothing out of the ordinary. What you weren’t expecting, though, was your current position. 

“Sorry, darlin’,” says Arsenal’s Irish superstar as she untangles her body from yours. She stands and reaches both of her hands out for you, a small smile on her face. You might’ve appreciated the gesture if she hadn’t been on the offensive end of all the fouls you’ve encountered during the last 60 minutes. But she has been, so you don’t. Instead, you brush her off and pull yourself up before returning to your original position. 

“That’s, like, the 10th time she’s fouled me. I swear she has a personal vendetta against me or something,” you gesture around aimlessly as you take your place next to your best friend. 

“What has she done now?” Lauren James asks with a quiet laugh as she kneels down to retie her boots. 

“Aside from embarrassing me repeatedly for the past hour, she just tripped me. On purpose, probably.” You reach a hand down and help LJ up once she finishes tying her laces.

LJ lets out a laugh at your reply. “Right, well, that’s called ‘marking.’ Perhaps you’ve heard of it?” LJ squeezes your shoulder with a smirk before the referee blows her whistle, signaling for play to start back up. You share a laugh before attempting to clear your mind and get back into the game. Your attempt starts fruitfully, and you forget all thoughts of your complications with the Irish woman. 

You begin running up the wing as your teammates initiate an attack. “Heads up!” Erin yells as she sends the ball soaring toward you from the 18-yard box. Before you can even think about your next move, a sharp pain shoots through your ankle and shoulder, and you find yourself on the ground once again. Your teammates shout, and the crowd erupts in deafening boos as the referee shows your assailant a yellow and then points to the spot. 

“Oh, bullshit! I hardly touched her!” exclaims a voice you’ve grown all too accustomed to hearing today. 

“Want to explain why I’m on the ground then?” Nathalie helps you up as you glare at Katie. “I’m okay,” you assure Nathalie quickly, brushing off her questioning of your fitness and turning back toward the Ireland captain. 

“I don’t know, but I think VAR’s about to find out,” Katie states with a smirk (that you wish you could smack off her face) as she raises her eyebrows and gestures behind you before crossing her arms. You turn to see the referee walking to the penalty check screen. An intense suspense fills the stadium as everyone awaits the referee’s final decision. 

“Has to go our way. She completely clipped you. Studs up and everything,” speaks your captain, Millie Bright. She joins the swarm of fellow Chelsea players that has now formed around you, the Arsenal players having disbursed. 

After a thorough review of the penalty decision, the referee swiftly returns to the pitch. With a firm expression, she announces her reversal of the call, awarding the decision in favor of Arsenal. 

“Come on! That is shit!” Guro shouts as the referee cancels the previously awarded penalty. The thunderous cheers of the Arsenal fans drown out her shouts. The dramatics of the Norwegian winger do nothing to ease your spirits like they usually would. The game ends shortly after, ending in a 3-1 Arsenal win. 

You deflate, refraining from diplomatically shaking hands with the Arsenal players after the game. You’re standing off to the side watching a bantering Sam Kerr and Caitlin Foord when you sense a presence walking up behind you, followed by the feeling of two hands on your waist. “Think ya better fire your diving instructor,” the voice whispers in your ear before the accompanying hands pull you toward their chest. 

You pull away from the person completely and turn around to face the Irish woman who has recently been the absolute vain of your existence. “I know that you know that call was fucked,” you say sternly.

Katie mock gasps, raises her eyebrows, and drops her jaw. “You want us to what?” she jokes and feigns disbelief.

“Stop,” you reply with a roll of your eyes. She steps closer to you at this reply.

She laughs, “Ah, that’s not a word I hear too often. The eye roll is a different story.” You’re unsure if the innuendos were intentional. The way she’s not even trying to hide biting her lip answers this question for you, though. She smirks again at your lack of response, and you only kind of want to smack it off her face this time. You feel your face heat up as she keeps her eyes trained on yours. You nervously look away and busy yourself watching Niamh’s post-match interview, hoping that Katie will just walk away.

You keep your eyes on Niamh as you feel Katie step close to you again, despite something urging you to turn your head toward the other girl. Katie keeps her hands to herself as she leans close to whisper in your ear this time; her lips brush against your ear as she murmurs, “The more you try to ignore me, the more I want to be right here.” Your breath catches as her words linger in your ear. 

Katie pulls away after a tension-filled minute, her expression combining smug delight and amusement. She clearly enjoys the reaction she just pulled out of you. She steals a quick glance at your lips before looking back up at your eyes and holding out one of her hands. Your mind is still whirling from the earlier feeling of having her body so close to yours. You just stare at her outstretched hand. 

“See something you like?” she asks as she wiggles her fingers and turns her hand around and back. Your eyes jump back up to hers. “Yeah. Your yellow card earlier,” you choke out.

“Katie!” someone yells from behind you before Katie can reply. Probably one of her teammates. You can’t be bothered to check. Katie nods at the person before turning back to you. Her hand still outstretched, she reaches for one of yours and shakes it with no help from you.

“Until next time, love, yeah?” With an ever-present smirk, she finally removes her hand from yours and starts to walk away. “Unless ya don’t feel like waiting that long. Up to you,” she winks and joins her teammate (whose identity you’re still unsure of).

You’re pretty sure she just put the ball in your court.

a/n: first fic 👀 hopefully it's not terrible. I have mixed feelings about my first post being for an arsenal player but!!! advice is appreciated. thank you alright bye

[hocktuah]

ｃａｓｕａｌｔｉｅｓ

☆ ｎ. ｈｉｓｃｈｉｅｒ ☆

summary: you & nico agreed to keep things casual, but ten seconds into the third period of tonight’s home game & a costly injury changes the fate of your affair indefinitely. (warning: mentions of bodily injury, allusions to smut, and a reference to my blurb, ‘learning the game’ — read at your own discretion!)

genre: angst + happy ending

word count: 3.9k

You swear the last eight seconds were a nightmare Nico would wake you up from with his husky voice and dewy lips against clammy skin. As the gaps between his eyelids remain dazed, and the grimace on his face persists, though, you find yourself pinching the skin on your forearm for confirmation. What you just witnessed on his flat screen wasn’t a figmentation—the team captain you love was undoubtedly harmed on the ice. It is a vast juxtaposition to the end of the second period, where he’d scored his second natural hat trick of his career and beamed under the rain of toques, baseball caps, and what looked to be a fairly immodest brassiere. You take no acknowledgment of the last-mentioned and instead celebrate with him as though you are in the rink with the rest of the chanting crowd. At one point, you whipped out your cell phone and texted him: So proud of you, call me when you can! <3 In the quiet apartment located on the outskirts of New Jersey, you cheered boastfully during the swap of the goalie nets, and squealed to nobody in particular, “That’s my boyfriend!”

There was nobody you could announce it to. As far as your friends and family know, your relationship with Nico hasn’t passed into the territory of exclusive, which was true at the start. A few coffee dates here, and a Sunday hike there are all that you’ve indulged their prying ears in for the last year. The late-night phone calls, extra team hoodie with his last name and number emblazoned on the back, and key to his home you now shared stayed confidential. Even Nico’s teammates–the ones he would go as far as to call “brothers”--probably knew less than your mother did.

The idea of keeping your relationship private never bothered you much, though. You’d never been the type to kiss and tell. (A hottie lamottie ice hockey captain is no exception.) Plus, Nico’s inclination to protect you from both the limelight and vulturous media teams made the option to object when he insisted it would be best for the two of you a moot point. Were you exhilarated by the late-night rendezvous spent in some hole-in-the-wall dive bar, or the thrilling mission to keep what you two had like a dirty little secret? Not necessarily. But you trust him with your whole heart, and that is reason enough for you.

★☆★☆★ ★☆★☆★

“Any reason for the undercover gear?” Nico’s eyes did all the gesturing for him as he viewed your ensemble. He vowed to be the only person present at The Prudential Center (or “The Rock” as he refers to it) for your private tour of his workplace. True to his word, the arena is soaked in an eerie silence with only two bodies occupying it. Minus the rooting fans, referees and red uniforms, it could pass for a game night. He refused to spill how he managed to have this okayed by the building owners, management, etc. You remembered him shrugging at your gawk when he first proposed it, flashing his teeth as he answered, “Perks of being captain.”

This time, it was you who played innocent. As you stared up into his curious eyes, you hoped he wouldn't read your lustful intentions easily. “Just wanted to try something new.” The khaki dress mimicking a trench coat skirted your calves as he guided you past the bleachers, penalty boxes and player seating. When you adjourned to the locker rooms, an unmistakable flare of sweat and metal singed your nostrils but Nico paid no mind to it. As long as he’d been working here, he’d probably ask what smell you’re referring to if you commented on it.

“Alright, Schatz, let’s put some gear on you and I think you’ll be ready to skate.” Nico unlatched the hinge to a spare locker, where spare padding was stowed away from prying eyes. While his back was toward you, a tentative hand began toying with the bound knot at the front of the gown. “I hope you don’t run cold, I forgot to sneak an extra pair of gloves in here since the last game. What are you wearing under there anyway?” He turned back to face you and stiffened at the sight of your naked figure, and the aforementioned dress forgotten in a pile beside you.

“Oh…” He didn’t hesitate to approach you with a slow-building smirk. Mirth lingered in his eyes as his fingers took purchase of your hips and drew your body closer to his. A chill trickled down your spine from the icy fingerprints that left indents on your skin, and you could feel your nipples begin to harden with the lack of cloth. Scratchy chuckles echoed throughout the room, as desire rolled off of you in waves. The mutual yearning was palpable in his voice.“Guess that answers my question.”

“What can I say? We wagered. And I’m a woman of my word.” A delighted hum escaped him, as he started rubbing teasing circles in the spaces of your lower ribs.

“That you are.”

The wager in question was a spur-of-the-moment stake you offered last night prior to the game. You were wishing him luck from the other side of the phone after flipping to the channel the game would be broadcasted from, and his confidence was deflating by the second as he rambled on about how the last few practice days were going awry, and the games before those were an even bigger shit show. He needed motivation, and you were elated to offer it.

“Why don’t we make things interesting?”

“What do you mean?”

Biting your lip, you asked him “Is anyone around?”

“Just me. Why?”

“Every goal you score, I’ll reward you.”

“Reward me, huh?” His voice morphed into a more uppity tone. “How so?”

“Use your imagination. And tell me what you come up with…good luck, baby.”

“Wait, Y/N-” You hung up the phone before he could ask if you were insinuating what he thought you were. No more than an hour later, he’d be scoring the first natural hat trick and beaming for two different reasons.

“I’ve thought of a few different ways you could reward me…” his hot breath and coarse mustache tickled the shell of your ear as he pressed a kiss below it. “You ready?”

“I’m all yours, cap.” Minutes later, the placid locker room was overflowing with moans and pants and other debauchery.

★☆★☆★ ★☆★☆★

“I’ll tell you now folks, this is the nastiest hit we’ve seen one of the Devils take in a while. Let’s see that again.” Per the commentator’s cue, the television and all its high-definition project the casualty from a new (and arguably better) angle. The rubber puck glides in the air of the rink after being whomped by the stick of an opposing team member. Against the wall of the rink, Nico never takes his eyes from the disc until the last moment, when a burly player sporting a jersey of differing colors checks him harshly against the bordering plexiglass, and the wobbling saucer collides into the shield protruding from his helmet.

You couldn’t hold back your wince at the gruesome replay, much like analysts who are now rattling off about a possible power play for the home team. You wish to see how bad the extent of his injuries truly are instead of what caused them with a small clue that “Hischier will be taking a visit to the sports med in the dressing room for that one.” The camera cuts back to his red jersey retreating past the stands as he clutches his side and limps away with assistance from one of the refs. When the cameraman pans over to the sanitization team scraping crimson droplets from the ice, you are already exiting the door with Nico’s car keys clutched in a fist.

Amidst your night drive to Prudential Stadium, you listen hopelessly to the radio static while flipping from station to station. The dimly lit street lamps and traffic only build your anxiety to new heights, as you cruise through any side roads at her disposal. “Come on, come on…” you murmur, unsure if the plea is for the next station to be discussing tonight’s game or hoping the wind will catch your begs and carry them to Nico’s ear. The unharmonious crackling and overplayed pop hits persist, before being broken up by two familiar voices.

“...been a monumental night for the New Jersey Devils as they’re close to celebrating the fifth win of their season.”

“Yes.” You hiss victoriously.

“And it looks like we’re still waiting on an update from the medical team on the captain, Nico Hischier, who took a pretty hard hit earlier tonight.” A knot slowly tightens in your stomach as you press your foot to the gas pedal and barrel through a yellow light. “It didn’t look pretty when he was being escorted off the ice, and I know some fans watching the game tonight are pretty devastated. The rest of the team is staying determined though, as the opposing player at fault only got put in a two-minute penalty during the powerplay at the beginning of this quarter.” Your grip around the steering wheel tightens.

“Bastard shouldn’t be allowed back on the ice at all.” You spit.

As you navigate through the congested arena’s parking lot for a free space, you feel foolish. What would he think to see you in person at one of his games? Drawing unwanted attention and interrogative questions about the relationship that neither of you had discussed proper answers to is all the reason for keeping this affair hush-hush. Would he pretend like you’re just another fan in the crowd supporting her home team? Would he drop his eyelid in a wink and skate off with a smug smirk? More importantly, what would you do in that position? How would you even get inside without a pass—

How are you expected to be let inside at all?

Before you can fall victim to a deeper thought spiral, the sound of your boyfriend’s name brings your attention back to the radio.

“And it looks like the medical team is coming to us with an update on Hischier. We’ll be back with that after these messages from our sponsors.”

“Unbelievable.” You scowl and lean back against the rough polyester car seat. The silence and not knowing are becoming torturous for you minute by minute. Sparing a glance in the rearview mirror, red watery eyes woefully greet you. “Please be okay, baby, please…” You cry out, yearning for his warm embrace or his fuzzy voice to sing you a lullaby or scruffy beard to tickle your skin in between relieved kisses. “Please be okay.” Your voice comes out raspy as you turn your gaze to the glove box. Feeling sticky and snotty from the tears, you unlatch the compartment’s handle and relish in the sight of his secret stash of drive-thru napkins. Your clammy, trembling hands grab a few for good measure but halt at the sight of a red, velvet cube peeking out of the rest of the impromptu tissues.

You peer from car window to car window, observing the empty parking lot and settling your gaze back on the box. Wasting no more time, your napkin-free hand rushes to grab it and flick on the interior light in the process. You fling the lid open and almost begin crying again. The gemstone encrusted in diamonds glints beneath the yellowed wash, and it takes little time to deduce that the ring wasn’t a simple splurge, but one of the first steps to forever with Nico.

As the commercials over the radio conclude, your phone begins buzzing in sync with it. Jumping in fright, you delicately close the box to tuck it away in your hoodie pocket. The phone illuminates the inside of the car even more with a photo of Nico taken just a month ago.

★☆★☆★ ★☆★☆★

His eyes peeled open at the sound of a camera shutter, and your whispered swears. The cool bed sheets splayed over your bodies coaxed him awake, as he exhaled sharply through his nose, and while you fiddled distractedly with the volume of your phone, Nico took the chance to tighten his hold on your hips and position himself above you. You squeaked between devious giggles, hand still clutching your phone with a small smile. He drew his face closer to yours and relished in the sweet aroma of your conditioner. In a few instances, his hair reeked of the same sugary fragrance and you had to bite back a smile at his usual excuse: “s’not my fault yours smells better.”

“Whatcha doin’?” He asked innocently.

“Nothing.” Your response was just as harmless, but his eyes flickered down to the phone being pressed further against your chest, and he quickly became skeptical. He emitted a low hum, and you bit your lip to shield a grin.

“That so?” He tried again.

“Yup.” The answer is curt and accumulated more suspicion when complemented by reddened cheeks. Another low hum escaped him as he nuzzled his bearded face into the crevice of your neck and shoulder. After he pressed a chaste kiss to your skin, he rambled something in German, far beyond your comprehension.

“Du hast glück, dass ich dich liebe, Schnügel.”

“You love me and want to…snuggle?” You tried translating anyway and earned a few quiet laughs in response. The vibration of his laughs against your body kindled a homely warmth in the depths of your stomach. You never dealt with the fabled butterflies when it came to Nico, only a burning comfort that never seemed to be extinguished.

“I want you to show me what you’re hiding.” He once again attempted to reach for your phone, which you slid beneath the pillow, barely out of his grasp.

“Uh-uh, don’t think so.”

“Is it a sequel to Hockey for Dummies?” He guessed. You scoffed and shook your head.

“Nope.”

He gasped and raised his eyebrows. Something tantalizing swirled in his eyes as he continued to prod, “Is it…a naughty picture of you?” His voice lowered to a whisper.

“No.” You whispered back and giggled, squirming embarrassed beneath him. “You got to see all of me last night, anyway, perv.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He shrugged. “So what is it then? Do you have a secret shrine dedicated to me that you’re adding to, or something?” You snorted and rolled your eyes.

“If a couple of old t-shirts and a bottle of your shampoo count as a shrine, then yes. That’s precisely it.” He gasped.

“That’s all?” Feigning agony, he flopped down to his original spot on the mattress. Like a soldier wounded on the battlefield, his hand that was once teasing the skin around your hip reached up to clutch his heart. “Here I was, thinking you truly loved me. I have books you’ve read, a blanket you’ve knitted, even the perfume you wore to dinner last night.”

“Maybe because I brought that bottle of perfume over last night, you goof.” The knitted blanket was gifted to him last winter by her, too. You’d be more offended had he not mentioned it. Playfully, you poked him. “Anyway, I’d probably have more of your stuff to show off if you…” Your voice trailed off, as did her gaze on the comforter still haphazardly covering them. Nico knew where you were going with the sentence, though. He admitted to you and himself on several occasions you weren't deserving of the commute to his home, nor the excuses of work always getting in the way of nights they could be spending together at your humble abode. And humble, it was. The first night he stayed over at your studio apartment he felt like he’d been crammed into a pintrest-ified dollhouse. You argue that the limited space makes it more “cozy” .

“I know, meine liebe, I know." His hand rose to entangle in her locks, and the feeling of his digits as they ran through her messy tendrils was near orgasmic. You reached to reclaim her phone beneath the pillowcase and frowned at the screen which still displayed a photo of him as he blissfully snoozed.

“Sometimes it gets hard, not waking up next to you.” The realization dawned on Nico, then. This was not about having two separate places to talk, eat, and sleep together whenever they preferred. It’s about the fact that they have not discussed narrowing it down to one. He shifts his gaze to the nightstand, where your retainer case stayed. Then they flickered to the top drawer of his chest, where a piece of your cheeky briefs dangled precariously on the corner. Your body wash settled in the corner of his bathtub rail. You, a mesmerizing sight to behold as you laid lackadaisical in his shirt and under his sheets. Nico concluded he didn’t want bits and pieces anymore. He wanted the whole damn package. He wants all of you.

“Come on, up.” He insisted as he jostled her arm.

“Huh?” Confused, you followed his lead and crawled out of bed anyway to join him at the foot of it. “Where are we going?” He couldn’t hide his grin. There had been no him or her since their first month together. It was always both of them.

“To make a copy of my house key for you.” Your eyes widened, and now he’d felt unsure for jumping at the opportunity. “Unless you plan to pick the lock every time I’m not here–”

Your body collided with his in an instant, aglow with radiance and devotion for the man that stood in front of you. “Yes, please.” You answered as though it were a proposal, rather than a gentle command on his part.

Proposal. He pondered the word to himself on the drive to the nearest handy store, sparing glances at you every few moments that you weren’t looking back. Is that what’s next for the two of you?

“Did you want to stop for coffee on the way? You never got to make your morning cup.” You gently reminded, before adding with a sly smirk, “Plus, we did keep each other up pretty late last night.”

But Nico didn’t need to keep second-guessing with you.

All the answers were simple because all of them were yes.

★☆★☆★ ★☆★☆★

Through her discovery and onslaught of tears, you muster a fond smile and answer the call.

“N-neeks?” You get out through stuttering breaths.

“Love, are you crying? What happened?” You wanted to hug him and slap him across the face at the same time for the idiotic question.

“What do you mean ‘what happened?’ Twenty minutes ago you got slammed to the floor and a hockey puck to the face, that’s what happened!” You catch a quiet wince on the other end of the line and are now wanting to slap yourself. “Are you okay?”

“I’m…I’m fine.”

“Nico…”

“I swear I’m okay. Just had a bruised rib and a couple of cuts on my cheek. The sports doctor just left and cleared me for our game two weeks from now.”

“No broken bones?”

“Nope.”

“Heart’s still beating?”

“It better be, or my girlfriend’s gonna kill me.” He coughs out a few laughs, but you can feel the hurt behind them.

“Um…I was so freaked out when I saw them lead you to the dressing room that I drove here.” You sniffle, looking up at the car’s roof.

“Wait you–you’re at the stadium right now?”

“Yeah, pretty stupid of me considering I can’t go inside.” Nico wants to ask what’s stopping you before it dawns on him; you have no ticket, no pass to the locker rooms, not even acknowledged to be related to any member of the team like the other WAGS (“As in Wives and Girlfriends” he remembers you telling him).

“Meine Liebe, where are you parked?” Amidst all of the turmoil tonight’s put the two of you through, you manage a dry laugh.

“Nico, you can’t sneak out in the middle of your own game.” Part of you hopes his injury warrants omitting the post-game interviews, photo ops, and everything else in between, so you won’t be wasting much more time in the humming car.

“What? No, of course not.” He insists, “I’m sneaking you in.” Your laughter turns to a choke.

“Excuse me? That’s a ridiculous idea!” You want to add the fact that nobody would recognize you, let alone be as amicable as they are to Nico. As pure as your intentions are, you’re still a stranger. A foreign body. (And to some very appreciative fans, a threat.)

He exhales something between a breath of relief and a humored laugh. You hear it bounce off of the locker room walls. “Petal, I don’t know if I can hide you any longer. I-I don’t want to. Do you?” He volleys you the question, and the weight of the velvet box nestled in your pocket increases ten-fold.

“No. I don’t think I’ve wanted us to be a secret for a while…” You admit through a wobbling lip.

“Where are you parked?” He asks once again. The buzzer sounds through his end of the phone, and this time you aren’t reluctant to answer.

His appearance was like a car wreck you couldn’t look away from. The disheveled hair (once slicked and combed) and patchwork of bandages and bruises on ivory skin was gut-churning to view up close, but before you could properly scold him, his swollen lips were greeting yours in a sentimental reunion. Bodies we’re filing into the corridor as you did so. A chattering stream of staff, coaches, players, and WAGS come at you head on like a wave.

“Woah, Hischier! We leave you alone for half a period and you manage to find a girlfriend?” A deep, accented voice slices through the invisible line your mouths convene at, and you turn your attention to the source. A brawny figure topped with blonde hair marches up to you in a striking red jersey matching Nico’s. You glance at the number 63 on his sleeve, and it only confirms your assumptions. Jesper Bratt was exactly as Nico described him to be, chaff jokes and all.

Another body donned in red pushes past Jesper’s to stand before you. He leans down, and says with a monkeying smile and voice just loud enough for those around to hear, “Ma’am, if you’re in any danger, blink twice.” You glance down at his sleeve, too. 86. Luke Hughes, you think, or is it Jack?

“Oh, fuck off!” Nico’s arm stretches out to shove him away, before situating the limb around your waist. When his hand bumps into a firm object poking out the side of your pocket. He stiffens beside you immediately, and you gulp as if you’d done something worthy of punishment. Of course, you were going to bring it up one way or another to him later in the night after all the post-game chaos had ticked by, but you suppose him finding out this way works just as well. The players forming a crowd around the two of you only grows, and they’re too caught up in laughing at their antics to notice their captain’s ungiving posture.

“Well, you gonna introduce us, or what?” Luke, (definitely Luke) queries. In the center of eyes and lingering questions, Nico’s whiskey ones connect with yours for a silent proposal. Without wasting any more time, you nod.

“Everyone, this is Y/N, my fiancée.”

[mxnhoo]

to me. (l. hs)

"where's the trophy? he just comes runnin' over to me." ╰➤ athlete!heeseung x fem!reader ft jay, sunghoon, jake, riki (enha) genre. romance, fluff, basketball (majority of the plot LOL), semi-proofread w/c. 3.6k warnings. mentions of injuries/hospital, giving up on dreams, idk if this needs to be mentioned but a lot of praying cly's note. i tried my very best to recall all the basketball terms from when i still played in a team, and with the olympics taking over my tiktok, i just HAD to write something after seeing all those cute edits. hope ya'll enjoy this one! don't forget to like/reblog/comment if you did<3

now playing : the alchemy - taylor swift

Loud cheers reverberate from every corner of the room, each individual having their own team they were cheering for. The basketball court that centred the huge hall consisting of athletes that were running back and forth, bouncing the basketball and making moves that one could easily miss if you blinked. The athletes had serious expressions on their faces, anyone being able to immediately sense the tension as the game continues to progress. However, even with all the chaos that was happening, your gaze was fixated on one player, and one player only. Your boyfriend, Lee Heeseung.

Your eyes followed him as he sprinted from across the court, skillfully dribbling the ball with his hand as he successfully gets pass his opponents, finding himself open and having the opportunity to shoot a shot. He picked up the ball in his hands and took his shot for the hoop, the ball spinning around the hoop before finally falling in. You stood up in excitement and cheered loudly, the audience surrounding you quickly following and filling the area with loud cheers.

Heeseung, with his right hand dangling in the air after his shot, quickly curled his fingers into a fist and shook it in triumph, feeling proud after being able to help his team earn a point. The camera quickly panned to him, his face appearing in the big screen and he took the opportunity to nod his head and flash a pleased expression. He ran back to his court to defend, and while the opponents were still at the opposite end of the court dribbling towards them, Jay, who was Heeseung's teammate, took the opportunity to fistbump him.

As the opponents quickly approached, Heeseung stood in front of the dribbler, his feet never stepping beyond the 3-pointer line as he held his hands up, observing his opponent's every move and as his opponent quickly passed the ball, Heeseung made an attempt to intercept the pass and it succeeded, allowing him to take hold the ball and he wasted no time to dribble across the court again.

The opponents were quick to respond, and with them blocking Heeseung's way, he passed the ball to Jake who dribbled in, picking up the ball to do an lay-up which was quickly interrupted by his opponent's hand, the ball instantly being blocked and it flew behind Jake, the opponents having the ball again.

The match quickly went on and before you realised, it was already the break period before the last quarter. The scoreboard was currently a 1:2, and nervously glancing at the sidelines, you saw the athletes feeling clearly pressured, their realisations setting in that if they don't buckle up the next quarter, they were going to lose. Your eyes fell on Heeseung who was sitting on the bench, speaking to all of them with a serious expression on his face, probably coaching them. His teammates were all standing up, surrounding him and listening to him attentively as they listened his instructions on what to do next and right before they could finish their discussion, the referee blew his whistle to indicate the start of the next quarter. The different teams did their cheers accordingly before setting foot back into the court.

Heeseung prepared for the jump-ball, staring at the ball that the referee was holding between him and his opponent, and with the whistle blowing, the refereee threw the ball in the air and Heeseung jumped upwards, his hands reaching for the ball and flicking it towards him where Jake was. Jake took hold of the ball and dribbled in, managing to earn a point from a lay-up effortlessly despite the amount of tension he was feeling inside. Jake cried out in relief, his faith slowly crawling back to him as he managed to start off the quarter well for his team.

Points have been earned multiple sides from the two different teams, and currently, the opponents were ahead by 6 points. There were only 6 minutes left, and features of worry were taking over your featuresas many 'what-if''s filled your head. What if something goes wrong? What if Heeseung's hand starts to hurt again? What if he gets injured again? What if they don't win this quarter? Will they manage to do it? What if they don't win?

You bit your lip as you carefully watched the match, your fingers fidgeting as you aggressively rubbed the top of your thumbnail. The loud cheering that filled the entire hall slowly start to disappear as your head starts to get filled with the different thoughts. Your eyes that were fixated on Heeseung watched his every move, realising his serious expression as he observed the opponent, and you glanced at his right hand that was slightly shaking.

You recalled the moment when he had badly injured his right hand a few years back, how there were many sleepless nights in the hospital because the boy fractured his hand, leaving everyone worried that he possibly wouldn't be able to ball again for the rest of his life. You prayed every single night, shed so many tears, begged for a miracle to magically happen that he would just be okay again. That he can have the chance to achieve his dreams again.

The best day of your life, other than Heeseung asking you out a little before he got injured, was when the doctor announced that Heeseung would be just fine, but that he needed a year to fully recover, and that he wouldn't be able to play basketball the same way he used to. You remember the grief-striken expression on Heeseung's face when he found out, recalling those nights when he silently cried to himself which shattered your heart, but he never gave up, working hard constantly and earning himself an opportunity to play basketball again on his dream stage.

You recalled the days he had to practically re-learn basketball with his left hand, the journey becoming even more difficult since his left hand wasn't his dominant hand, but he was determined. He always woke up early to go to the gym, working out to achieve his ideal physique and then played basketball afterwards with his mates, using his right hand as minimally as possible.

You recalled one night when you and Heeseung were on a basketball date out, you in his jersey and him in his tank top, both of you just continuously doing bounce passes to each other as you both walked and looked into each other's eyes. The sun has set, the only source of light from the post lights in the court, and it was starting to get chilly. The cold breeze blew onto your faces and your hair lightly flowed in the air, and Heeseung gave you a smile that you'd never get tired of.

You both talked about random topics, whether it was about controversial questions such as "M&M or Skittles", or if it was about serious topics. One thing you'll never forget from that night was the sight of his exasperated look when he asked you, "Do you think I even have a chance?" while doing a hard bounce pass to you, the sound of the ball bouncing being the only thing that could be heard. He never specified what he meant, but you already knew.

He never admitted it, but you could tell that he was so close to giving up, and upon hearing his question, you immediately set the ball to the floor and walked to him, opening your arms and bringing him into a warm embrace.

It was an embrace he never knew he needed so much. An embrace of comfort, an embrace of reassurance. It's honestly pretty heartbreaking when it seems like you can't professionally play a sport you dedicated your entire life to. His whole world was crashing down.

You gently patted his back as you felt him cry out, nuzzling his face into your shoulders as you felt his tears on your skin. You hated to see him like this, you hated to see him so helpless and unfaithful.

"I know you'll make it," you speak up after a moment of silence, still continuing to pat his back slowly. "I'll always be here, Hee, I'm always supporting you."

That was the day you realised that it wasn't just his journey, it was a shared journey between the two of you. You pulled him up from his dark moments, and the bond between the two of you only depeened.

From that day on, Heeseung started to take trainings even more seriously, all while still taking care of his right hand, and you could see him drastically improve, whether it was his faith that he could achieve his dreams, his hand condition, or his skills in basketball in general.

You were so proud of him, and you never once gave up on him. And now you were watching your boy kill it on his dream stage, though you were worried something could happen to him again. Your teeth sunk hard onto your bottom lip until it formed a cut, but the pain didn't even register until you heaved a sigh of relief as your boyfriend scores another lay-up. 4 points gap.

All is good so far. They were closing the gap, and they had a chance to win. Everything is going well.

However, the sense of relief quickly crashed down as you looked at the clock and realised there was only about 4 minutes and 38 seconds left, panic starting to grow in you again. Everything was happening so quickly, you didn't even want to blink and your eyes were starting to dry out. You grabbed the waterbottle that was placed beside you and opened the cap, gulping down on it as you kept your eyes fixated on the ball, your eyes following it as it constantly gets passed from player to player.

Your breathing starts to pace up as you feel the anxiety inside you accumulate. Heeseung dribbles the ball, trying to strive in for a lay-up until the opponent brutally knocks into him onto the ground. You gasped loudly and stood up, your hand flying to your mouth as the crowd let out loud multiple "oooh" and "ahh"'s. The referee instantly blew his whistle and announced that there was a foul, giving Heeseung the opportunity to get 2 free-throws.

At this point, you didn't even care that Heeseung had the opportunity to score extra points to close the gap. You were only worried if he had gotten hurt in any way, watching as his teammates help him up from the ground and how his hand shakes more aggressively than earlier. You slowly sat back down on your seat, biting your lip and even tasting your own blood as you placed the palms of your hand together, almost as if you were praying to God that everything would be okay.

The camera panned to Heeseung who stood behind the free-throw line, bouncing the ball on the spot as he stares at the basketball net intensely, mentally taking his aim. His teammates and opponents all stared at him intensely, this nerve-wrecking moment possibly being a game-changer. The timer stopped, allowing Heeseung to take his own time to score, and as he picked up the ball, he shot his shot, his right hand dangling in the air.

One shot in. 3 points gap.

Everyone around you cheered and you felt the tension inside you ease down, realising that if he could still shoot just fine, he was probably okay and a small smile appeared on your face, praying for the best for his next shot. If he makes this shot, the gap between the two different teams would only be 2 points, and there was a high chance for them to be able to tie this quarter, and maybe even score more points than the other team if all goes well.

The room grew quiet, everyone staring at Heeseung as he bounces the ball once again, his eyes on the hoop as he takes aim once again, bringing the ball to his face just slightly below his eyes, and he takes his shot again, the ball going in and the number on the scoreboard for his team going up. Everyone cheered and you stood up again, bringing your hands to cover your face as you felt emotional. Your boyfriend was going to achieve his dreams of winning, you just know it, and you were going to be there to experience this achievement with him.

2 points to close the gap. 2 points until his dreams could possibly come true.

Heeseung roared out loud, looking at the camera once again, showing a rock hand gesture to the camera which you knew damn well was directed to you. You and him always enjoyed doing the rock hand gesture to tell each other "I love you" in sign language. You could see people in your peripheral vision mirroring Heeseung's hand gesture, and your heart warms up as you eventually do the same.

With the last 4 minutes and few seconds remaining, you can immediately feel the change in atmosphere. If the atmosphere was fierce earlier, you could say this one was suffocatingly intense. In the last few minutes, getting an opportunity to score was getting increasingly impossible and your worry returns once again, all the thoughts washing over you. You knew he could do it, you knew he had the skills to do it, but with the clock running, you'd hate to admit that your brain is starting to have second thoughts.

Since the quarter scoreboard was still a 1:2, if they win this quarter, the game would be tied and the game masters would then look at the total number of points scored. In the first quarter, Hee's team won with 34 points. Second quarter, the opponents won with 42 points, and 23 on the next. So this means the opponents currently have a total of 65 points, and if Hee's team is going to win, they'd need a total of 66 points, which also means 32 points alone in this quarter.

You looked at the current scoreboard, noticing how their current scores were a 30:32. 2 more points to catch up, and 3 more to take the lead and secure their win.

The fourth minute passes by, the ball being aggressively passed across the court and fought for.

The third minute passes by, and up till now none of the teams score. Your hands aggressively fidget against each other, and the audience grew silent, attentively watching as the match progresses.

The second minute, the opponents almost manage to score a lay-up, but Riki managed to block and get the rebound, managing to pass the ball to Sunghoon who dribbed swiftly across the court.

The last minute. The last minute for any magic to happen. Up till now, no teams have scored, and the supporters for the opponent team have basically relaxed in their seats, being sure that their team have secured their win already. You remained silent, along with the other supporters and you felt sweat trickle down your temple. Your breathing slowed down as your eyes flickered from player to player.

It was so evident that all the players were tired, and that they just wanted for everything to be over, and when you looked at Heeseung, the exhausted expression on his face broke your heart. He brushed his damp hair back with his hand, wiping his forehead with his jersey as he observed the opponent approaching him, preparing to make an attack.

30 seconds.

The opponent managed to dribble past him, catching Heeseung off-guard and causing him to fall on his butt. Your face turned sour as you watched the scene unfold in front of your very eyes, watching how the opponent picks up the ball to do a lay-up while Heeseung was still on the ground.

25 seconds.

Jake jumps in front of the opponent, successfully jumping the ball from going in and the ball flew to the air, all the athletes eyeing the ball and finding every opportunity to get the rebound. Sunghoon jumped into the air and took the ball, an opponent running up to him in an attempt to snatch the ball away.

20 seconds.

Sunghoon and the opponent continue to snatch, Sunghoon yelling out that he needed someone to be open, and Jake immediately responded to his call, stepping into an area where there were no defenders. Sunghoon successfully wins the ball, and passes the ball to Jake, and you could see Heeseung standing back up to his feet, his state so obviously weakened.

15 seconds.

Jake now has the ball, and he dribbles across the court. Heeseung was still at the opposite end of the court, at the brink of fainting as his teammates try their damn best to score at least another shot. Jake was frantically blocked by the opponents, not having any opportunities to strive in or shoot, so he tries to find anyone open to pass to.

"Heeseung! C'mon!" Jake calls out, immediately causing Heeseung to snap back and run towards the other court where all the other athletes were.

10 seconds.

Heeseung runs outside the 3-pointer line, holding his hands up for Jake to pass the ball to him, but one of the opponents constantly block the pathway between Jake and Heeseung, making it difficult for Heeseung to be able to receive the ball. However, there was a moment when the opponent let his guard down, allowing Jake to successfully pass the ball to Heeseung.

5 seconds.

Heeseung, standing outside the 3-pointer line, takes his last chance to shoot his shot, praying that this shot makes it.

Everyone remained silent, their eyes watching the ball.

The sounds of the ball perfectly falling in between the hoop echoed through the whole hall, and the ball bouncing on the ground after the shot was the only thing that could be heard.

They did it. They won.

33:32. Quarter scores were a 2:2, but with the points accumulated, they won.

The referee blew his whistle to indicate the end of the quarter, and he announced, "Winning team, ENHA!".

All his teammates cheered, and you couldn't believe it. Your jaw dropped, and you could feel tears forming in your eyes from how elated you felt. You watched Heeseung, observing as he scans the crowd, and as he spots you, his face immediately lighting up with a wide grin. He's now walking towards you.

Walking. Jogging. He's running. Running to you, sprinting, even.

You subconsciously walk towards him on the bleachers, watching him approach you behind the railings and once he was at close proximity, he opened his arms and embraced you. Embraced you so tightly you felt like you were going to explode. You hugged him back with the same amount of tightness, feeling the tears escape your eyes, having no words to explain how jubilant you felt. You both exchanged no words, but he knew how proud you were of him. Multiple reporters surround him, holding their cameras to him to take photos of him and capture the moment between the two of you. He pulled back from the hug to immediately cup your cheeks and pull his lips to yours.

You cried into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, and he kissed you so passionately. His mouth moved in such a slow rhythm, taking his time to enjoy how perfect your lips were on his, how you complemented him so well. You felt your heart pick up the pace, almost feeling like it was going to explode, and you immediately felt blood rush to your cheeks. Loud cheers could be heard from every corner of the room, but with his lips on yours, the sounds gradually started to fade, the only thing that mattered being you and Heeseung.

Heeseung didn't experience this win alone, he experienced it with you.

He pulled back from the kiss, resting his forehead on yours as he intensely looks into your eyes to form eye contact and he gives you his cheeky smile. "I did it. We did it, love."

"You did it," you look at him as tears continue to flow out of your eyes, caressing his cheek and he laughs at how emotional you were. He used both of his thumbs to wipe your tears, cupping your jaw as he gives you the smile that made you fall in love with him

"We.. did it. I couldn't have done this without you, love," he stares at you, his eyebrows arching upwards as he gives you his cute pout. The way he emphasised 'We' didn't go unnoticed, and you laugh, leaning in closer and your noses touch, closing your eyes as you give him the biggest smile.

"I'm so proud of you baby, hope you know that." "I know that very well." "Anyways, what're you doing with me? You should go celebrate with your teammates," you chuckled, and your chest felt fuzzy at how the first thing he did was run to you. "I don't need to," he retorts. "What about your trophy, baby?" you pouted. "The only trophy I need is already here with me."

You chuckled at how cheesy he sounded, opening your eyes only to be met with his serious gaze.

"I'm being serious, Y/N, you're the only thing I could care about at this moment," he confessed. You felt butterflies fill your stomach as your hands playfully smack his chest. "Thank you Heeseung, for winning." "I love you," he blurts out, which catches you off-guard but you laughed at how genuine he was. "I love you more."

And he pulled you into another kiss to celebrate his victory.

cly's tmi. before this song trended on tiktok and the olympics started, my friend and i had already talked about this song and i've been wanting to write about it for like.. 3 months now. i'm so happy i finally managed to do it, and can i just talk about how SWEET this song is? i don't really listen to taylor swift much but this song hits so hard.

[cosmicflw3rr]

cash in.

dominik mysterio x fem! reader

summary: you cash in at wrestlemania.

A/N: this is inspired by damian’s cash in, just something to put out while I work on my other things! btw pls request stuff I need to unleash my creativity 😈😈

btw in this short fic, for the inst post at the end im using pics from liv’s cash in, and a pic of bianca and montez but you can imagine yourself however you want it’s just pics i chose for the post :)

your nerves were jumbled up as you watched bayley and iyo sky fight for the title. their feud had been going on for a while now and was finally going to be resolved at the grandest stage of them all.

what they didn’t know was that tonight you’d finally cash in the money in the bank contract you'd been clutching for months. you had never found the perfect moment to make your move. yet, something in the air felt different, electric. today was the day you'd cash it in; you could just feel it.

you had to look away from the screen at the amount of close calls the match had, you moved away from the monitor sitting down on the couch in the little spot the tv crew had for the judgement day. damian, finn, jd and rhea also watched the match intently.

you held your head with your hands, sighing. your leg bouncing up and down anxiously. dominik, your boyfriend sat down next to you placing his hand on your knee to stop it from bouncing.

as soon as dom's hand touched your knee, you paused and locked eyes with him. "hermosa, talk to me," he urged, understanding the weight of the evening on your shoulders, yet not wanting you to be overwhelmed by stress.

leaning back, you let out a groan, the frustration clear in your voice. "what if it doesn’t work? what if I can't cash in the contract?" you shared your fears, the pressure mounting. "I might not get a chance like this ever again." the uncertainty of it all was eating at you.

you were convinced this was a once-in-a-lifetime shot, but dom saw things differently. he knew just how incredible you were in the ring, how you owned every match you fought and put your heart into everything you did. so to hear you think you weren’t ever going to get an opportunity like that again hurt, because he knew you would.

“listen amor.” when you wouldn't meet his gaze, he gently tilted your chin up, eyes meeting yours, and saw the worry glistening there. with a soft, reassuring smile, he whispered, "amor, don't worry. you've got this. you're one of the best wrestlers out there, and no matter what happens, there will be more chances. believe in yourself like I believe in you." his words were the comfort you didn't know you needed.

you eyes met dom’s as you nodded, understanding flickering between you. suddenly, the bell echoed, one, two, three times. your head whipped around to the screen, and there it was—bayley's victory. the members from your faction turned to you, their faces a mix of surprise and disbelief.

aithout a second thought, you grabbed your briefcase and bolted towards the gorilla, heart racing. "I'm cashing in! I'm cashing in!" you shouted at the top of your lungs. the production crew exchanged quick glances, barely able to process your words as you grabbed a referee by his shirt and charged onto the stage, adrenaline fueling your every step.

running down the ramp as your theme blared through the arena, the crowd erupted in cheers, instantly recognizing the moment unfolding. You reached the ring sliding into it with the referee on your heels. you turned thrusting the briefcase into his hands, “I’m cashing in!” you yelled.

he looked down at the briefcase his voice tinged with uncertainty, "are you sure?"

without hesitation, you shouted back, "yes, I'm cashing in, do it!" your hand came down hard on the briefcase, affirming your decision. the buzz from the crowd surged through you, adrenaline coursing wildly through your veins.

bayley staggered to her feet, unsteady. you bounced on the balls of your feet, ready, and as the bell chimed for the third time, you quickly delivered your finisher, the ripcord flatliner.

she hit the mat, motionless. yet, the roar of the crowd told you to keep going. you quickly pulled her to the ring's center, seizing her legs and cinching in a figure four lock, the cheers growing impossibly louder.

the excitement from the crowd was electric and the adrenaline in your body was hard to contain.

with the figure four perfectly locked in, bayley was trapped, dead center of the ring with no hope of grabbing the ropes. you yelled, teeth gritted, tightening the hold. then, the moment came—bayley tapped out, the bell sounding three times.

your music blared out as you released her, you scooted back, your spine meeting the ropes, shock written on your face. your hands flew to cover your eyes, tears leaving paths down your cheeks as you sobbed, the crowd's roar drowning your thoughts, the reality of the moment not quite sinking in.

wiping your tears, you turned to the referee, who held the championship title towards you. grabbing it from, you sat there dazed, just gazing at the title, a fresh wave of tears blurring in your eyes as pride swelled within you.

you got to your feet, lifting your arm, and the cheers from the crowd grew even wilder. you let out a smile, wiping away those involuntary tears. just then, at the top of the ramp, you noticed the judgement day coming out, cheering you on.

without missing a beat, you slipped out of the ring and bolted up the ramp. reaching the top, you found dominik first, waiting for you. the two of you collided into a tight embrace, him lifting and twirling you off the ground.

when your feet touched solid ground, you stepped back, locking eyes with him briefly, then sharing a tender kiss. after the kiss, you both melted into another warm hug, your arms around his neck and his on your waist.

“I’m so proud of you baby. I told you everything would work out.” he whispered, stirring fresh tears in your eyes. you nodded against his shoulder.

"I love you so much," you choked out, voice trembling, tears streaming down. breaking from the embrace, he tenderly held your face, wiping away the tears, then kissed you once more.

a smile broke through as he stepped aside, revealing the judgement day, all hyped up. In an instant, they swept you and dom up in a massive group hug.

you all erupted in cheers, bouncing around with excitement as each one expressed their pride in you, bringing a beam to your face. the group hug ended, and everyone turned towards the ring.

in a swift move, dom and damian hoisted you onto their shoulders, your hands clutching the title as you raised it high, pyro blazing in the background.

with a joyful shout, you took in the cheering crowd. after soaking in the moment, they carefully lowered you back down. you lifted your hand in triumph one last time before Dom draped his arm over your shoulder.

backstage, away from the roaring crowd, the intimacy of the moment enveloped you and dom as the judgment day trailed behind. you wrapped your arms around dom once more, this hug deeper, more personal.

tears freely flowed as the weight of your victory hit you, and dom was there, a comforting presence, rubbing your back gently. "I am so, so proud of you, amor. you've earned this and so much more," he whispered, his words a soothing balm to your overwhelmed emotions.

pulling back from the embrace, you brushed away the lingering tears, offering him a tender kiss. "thank you, babe. for everything," you murmured with heartfelt gratitude.

"this was all you," he replied, his pride in you evident.

"maybe, but your support has been my rock, the thing that's kept me pushing forward," you said, your voice laced with appreciation. his smile then met yours, and he leaned in to seal your shared moment with another kiss.

LIKED BY DOMINIK_35, RHEARIPLEY_WWE, ARCHEROFINFAMY, YAONLIVONCE & 5 MILLION OTHERS

y/n: and your new…

tagged: dominik_35

VIEW COMMENTS

dominik_35: so proud of you amor❤️

y/n: ❤️❤️❤️

rhearipley_wwe: all rise!!

y/n: judgement day is ALWAYS on top!!💜⚖️

yaonlylivonce: so happy for you! you deserve it!! 🥹❤️❤️

y/n: thank you so much liv! I love you so much!!🤍

archerofinfamy: proud of you chiquita💜

y/n: 💜

samanthairvinwwe: by far my fav name to call out tonight! congrats girl! you deserve it!! 👏💗

y/n: shhhh🤫 don’t let them know you have favorites😏

wwelover: was in sm shock watching! congratulations!!

y/n.vsp: the edits I alr have lined up for this😝

wrestlingstan: I KNEW SHED CASH IN! OMG!

WWE: your new women’s champion!

y/n: thank you to all of you who gave me the opportunity❤️.

[p0orbaby]

Blurb - Leah/reader either watching a football or rugby game with her family but you’re Scottish so Leah keeps winding you up. Then Scotland win & reader has the last laugh 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

ngl this was quite painful for me to write as i am, in fact, not scottish… but here we are

-

The living room smells like beer, crisps, and something your mum burned in the kitchen that she swears is still edible. Leah’s sitting on the sofa, surrounded by your family, smug as anything in an oversized England rugby shirt. You’re in your Scotland top, arms crossed, already regretting inviting her to this.

“Bit optimistic, isn’t it?” she says, nodding at your jersey.

“It’s called patriotism,” you reply, grabbing a handful of crisps.

“It’s called wishful thinking,” she counters, her grin widening as your brother laughs a little too loudly from his armchair. Traitor.

The match kicks off, and Leah is immediately insufferable. She’s shouting advice at the England players like they can hear her, arms flailing dramatically every time someone misses a tackle.

“Textbook,” she says smugly after England score the first try, reclining back like she’s the one who orchestrated it.

“Lucky,” you mutter, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Not luck, babe,” she says, leaning in close enough that you can smell her shampoo. “Skill”

Your mum, ever the diplomat, asks Leah if she wants another drink. You silently beg her not to, but it’s no use. Leah’s now fuelled by lager and her own self-satisfaction.

When Scotland finally score a try, you leap off the sofa, fists in the air.

Leah doesn’t even flinch. “Oh, calm down. One try doesn’t make a match.”

“It’s one more than you expected,” you fire back, flopping onto the sofa with an unnecessary amount of bounce just to jostle her.

The game gets tense—fumbles, penalties, a couple of dodgy referee decisions that your dad won’t stop ranting about. Leah’s still giving you grief, muttering under her breath every time England get possession.

“You’re awfully quiet,” she says at one point, smirking.

“Just waiting for the right moment,” you reply, not looking away from the screen.

And then it happens. Scotland break through the England defence with a clean, beautiful run. It’s poetry in motion, a sight to behold. Your brother yells. Your dad claps so hard you think he might dislocate something.

You? You turn to Leah, grinning like a maniac. “What was that about wishful thinking?”

She doesn’t answer, staring at the screen in disbelief as the Scots pile on top of each other in celebration.

“Oh, what’s wrong, babe?” you say, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Not as confident now, are we?”

She scowls but doesn’t rise to the bait, which only makes your victory sweeter.

When the final whistle blows, signalling Scotland’s win, you’re on your feet again, yelling like you’ve personally won the Six Nations. Leah stays seated, arms crossed, sulking in a way that’s almost cute.

“Good game,” your dad says, clapping her on the shoulder as he heads to the kitchen. “Better luck next time”

Leah shoots you a look as if to say traitor, but you just grin.

“Cheer up,” you say, plopping down beside her and throwing an arm around her shoulders. “There’s always next year”

“Don’t,” she warns, but there’s no real venom in it.

You kiss her cheek, the tiniest bit smug. “Love you”

“Mm-hmm,” she mutters, stealing the remote and putting on Match of the Day.

It’s not a total loss for her—she did manage to polish off most of the crisps—but you savour every second of her pout. Victory tastes better when it’s Scotland’s.

[residenthughes]

mad at me - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x afab reader

word count: 3.5k

tags/warnings: +18 nsfw, so minors dni, smut, unprotected p in v (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), creampie, praise, spitting & choking (nothing crazy, i promise!), use of pet names (my girl, sweetheart, baby, princess, sweetheart), slight degradation (if you squint?)

summary: jack's latest game has tensions running high and feelings left unresolved. lucky for him, you know just the solution.

notes: so...this is happening 😭 this is very much inspired by the devils latest game against the kings where jack got pretty heated 😵‍💫 who doesn't love a bit of angry! jack? 🫣 but yes, as i've mentioned before, i don't usually write smut, so this may not be the best so any tips or comments you guys have to share would be much appreciated! 💗this has been partially edited, so if you see any errors along the way, they'll be fixed soon! as always, thank you for reading and hope you enjoy! much love! <333

It takes a lot for Jack to get mad.

A sequence of events that all come to a boil, a mountain of incidents that snowball into an avalanche of his wrath. He’s so sweet, like sunny Sunday mornings that smell of fluffy pancakes and honey syrup - so, even now, so far into your relationship, you’re aware that moments like these occur. Of course, emotions wear thin like tired socks and you’re no stranger to your own and Jack’s that have seen all shades of the rainbow, but perhaps there’s something in the air, some electricity that changes the wiring of your brain because tonight is so different from the rest. Dissimilar from when you leave Jack be when his big emotions demand their place, unlike how you wrap each other in blankets of comfort when tensions have eased and everything is whole again. Because, again, this is not about you. It’s about Jack and how, as the universe has written it to be, gravity pulls straight towards him.

Things have been good - he’s come back from injury, back to his kingdom on the ice and the Devils have won back to back games - truly unheard of during their current season, beating their last opponent in regulation for the first time since 2009. It’s a big deal - the smile on Jack’s face says so, the satisfaction of his tone indicating so when he’s come back from his away games. So, you want this happiness to continue, because you love him and the happiness he illuminates but at the end of the day, his job is hockey. A coin toss of wins and losses that you’re trying to wrap your head around because you’re biassed and see all the commitment that him and his teammates put in everyday. As a result of this, Thursday happens; a dice roll of events that spiral into chaos.

You’re back home in Jersey, comfortably situated on the couch in the warmth of an ending winter that shows peaks of an upcoming spring. You’ve got popcorn in your lap because you’ve rediscovered how much you love the savoury snack, happily munching away as Jack’s game starts and the adrenaline kicks in. The first period is eventful with many saves that have you clawing at the couch, but then the second period starts and all hell breaks loose. Tensions run high and as level-headed as Jack is, he is not immune to agitation - subjected to a nasty hit into the boards, the opposing player purposely banging his elbow into Jack’s head. You’re about to start yelling at your TV screen like some drunken sailor because Jack’s been injured this season and doesn’t need more time away from what he loves, but Jack decides to get his lick back and you’re automatically silenced. Your jaw drags the length of the floor as you watch him crosscheck the hell out the guy, proceeding to rough the player up before referees interfere. Jack and the guy are arguing back and forth as they’re escorted into their teams’ penalty boxes and you’re just left bewildered, a mess of emotions with wide eyes as your stomach turns.

You watch astounded as Jack flushes in his temporary plastic home, eyes wide at he hurtles comments that leave the opposing player with a sour taste in his mouth. Jack’s shaking his head when he’s gotten what he needs off his chest, wiping away his sweat as his anger grinds to a simmer. Your eyes are glued to the TV, perched on the edge of your seat as your heart beats hard in your bruising chest. The power play continues on but you’re lost in a trance, awaiting Jack’s emergence from the penalty box that can’t come soon enough. Once he’s out, he’s sprinting for the puck and manages to get a breakaway that assures New Jersey a goal, but the loser in the penalty box with him is hot on his heels and Jack misses. He’s fuming once again, ranting to the referee that pays him no mind. Jack skates off, smashing his stick against the glass before he’s back on the bench and completely snaps it in half, a string of profanities leaving his lips. 

You sit there in awe, your grinding teeth sinking into the flesh of your fingers as your brain becomes an all-consuming pile of filth. Your precious boy, who loves his three hour long naps and looks at you like you hang the stars in the sky, the hopeless romantic who pulls out all the stops for you simply because you deserve it and who holds you as if you’re fine china - he’s almost unrecognisable now, wearing his emotions like the number of his jersey as his expression pinches and his azure eyes narrow. A rush of emotions you both experience that make a home in the chaos of your minds that long leave the remnants of their havoc.

The clatter of Jack’s hockey bag echoes from the doorway, bringing you out of the syrupy daze you’ve been submerged in far too long. You leap off the couch as your body carries you towards the front door, electricity rippling down the ridges of your spine as your skin tingles with the unknown. You keep your emotions at bay for the time being, unsure of what state Jack may be in as you creep around the corner and catch an eyeful of his demeanour - blinding annoyance. An exasperated sigh pushes from his chest as he slips off his trusted beanie, the ruffle of his wet curls bouncing as his fingers card through his hair. You gulp.

“Ro?” you test the waters - short and sweet just to gauge his reaction, anticipation hanging in the air. 

“Hey.” he bites, not bothering with looking your way as he shimmies his coat off with more force than necessary. 

You gnaw at your bottom lip, feeling helpless. “I saw the game…”

“The one I almost got fucking injured in?” he chirps, looking at you now with a pointed stare that burns with all the fire in his heart. No longer azure, his eyes singe with an almost midnight hue. “What a shitshow.”

“That was a dangerous hit, that guy’s got whatever’s coming to him,” you’re quick to reply, taking small steps towards Jack who hangs up his coat. “But that doesn’t change the fact that people pay to watch you play.” 

Jack stills in his movements, figure unmoving momentarily before his eyes throw you a lasting glance, the beginnings of a smirk working amongst his roseate features. “So, you heard?”

You blush under the heat of his undivided attention, gaze averted as you fumble with the hem of the hockey jersey on you. “Not necessarily.”

“Then what did you hear, baby?” he queries immediately, shifting so that his body now faces yours, an arm resting against the coat hanger as he sizes you up, unabashed and assertive.

Your stomach flips, the race of your heart undeniable. “You’ve got a mouth on you, so it’s easy to read lips.”

You’re chirping, working under his skin in a way that maintains some form of respect but has all the intentions of riling him up, which manifests into the beast you wish to see. A cocked eyebrow and a ticked jaw, flashes of disbelief flickering on his face. Once more, your emotions bear the weight of an anchor as excitement conjures up the swirl in your stomach, your masquerade crumbling at the seams as your nostrils flare, biting back a shit-eating grin.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he questions with a hint of humour, because he knows you like the back of his hand. You give him no response, preoccupied with suppressing the misplaced giggle that threatens to leave your lips. “I can’t believe this.”

The seams fully come undone, a snicker or two bypassing your lips as you retreat from the situation, ending up with your back against the door leading to the basement with Jack hot on your heels. Mirth bathes you in delight and you let it, a plethora of chuckles falling into your hand as you avert your gaze whilst Jack forgets any concept of personal space. Perhaps you’re deserving of whatever damnation comes your way, a punishment you’ve fully brought upon yourself, but when your senses fill with the waft of Jack’s earthy musk cologne and the remnants of his apple shampoo, accompanied by the warmth of his body that leans towards yours, you can’t bring yourself to feel a shred of regret.

His arm, enveloped by his raven black dress shirt, raises as he cages you in, vulnerable and at his mercy. “What else did I say, since you can read lips and all?”

This is a circus of words, meaning riddled in optical illusions that would have someone think none the wiser. Except this is yours and Jack’s circus, an act tailored for two that entertains your minds that run wild. A wildness you feed off as you meet him with the same decisiveness.

“This number,” you start, pointing towards the digits printed on your sleeve belonging to him. “86 is what people go to see - sorry, pay to see.”

You’re not really sorry, the smirk on your face says otherwise. “I think I said a lot more than that, sweetheart.”

“Besides all the huffing and puffing,” his tongue pokes at his cheek, a playful smirk betraying his flaring emotions. “You asked if he was there to play or to hurt people - fair point to make.”

“And all the others weren’t?” Jack’s moved closer, his thigh situating itself between the gap of your legs. 

You bite your tongue at the friction. “You know the answer to that.”

“Maybe,” his caging arm leaves the door, the web of his hand sat against your chin as he holds your face, maintaining the same fiery gaze that unravels you altogether. “But, it’d be better coming from you.”

“Jack,” he’s flexed his thigh, your hand reaching for the button on his dress shirt as you wane in defeat. “Please.”

“I don’t follow.” 

Your bawled fist meets his stacked chest. “Don’t play dumb.”

Jack chuckles, holding all power in the palm of his hand. “I’m just confused as to why my pants are wet.” 

To prove his point, he draws his thigh away because he’s a selfish bastard and shows you the damp spot you’ve left after his thigh made its way between your legs. The shame that washes over you is unbearable. 

Jack’s cold hands find themselves underneath the material of his jersey, one hand dancing along the outline of your underwear with a finger hanging over the top of the seam. “Oh, what to do with you.”

He’s such a tease, his ego large and in charge as you’ve long forgotten any sense of game at hand as your eyes pool with only an anguish he can extinguish. “Fuck me, please.”

“Why?” his tone light and airy, his finger hooked around the seam of your underwear as the material leaves your skin

You shiver at the breeze, eyes closed as your weak fist manages to grapple onto some material of his shirt. “Because, I need you and I think that goes both ways.”

The band of your underwear snaps against your stomach as Jack retrieves his hand, head cocked to the side as he considers the weight of your words with a locked jaw. Your teeth are sinking into the plumpness of your bottom lip, nothing but pleading in your eyes as you gaze up at him with all you can muster. 

His hand lays against your cheek, thumb automatically caressing the skin - a touch that you not only lean into, but shiver towards. “Get upstairs.”

This is a fairly new playing field for you two -  a game of cat and mouse that brings out an unfamiliar side to you, so foreign in nature that you second guess your desires and where your lust leads you. Jack doesn’t allow for any hesitation though, hand in hand with you as he comes into himself too. His thumb brushes against the corner of your lips that lift, a soft smile surfacing amongst his features before you’re headed upstairs in a flash, scurrying towards your bedroom with a trail of your clothes left in your wake.

Jack doesn’t take long to meet you upstairs, his pinstripe blazer removed as he unfastens his tie around his neck. He spares you a lingering glance as you lay sheepishly on the bed perched on your elbows, legs ajar as your folds glisten in the soft bedroom light. Jack quickly rids himself of his clothing, slipping his boxers off to reveal his hard on. A comfortable length with all the girth to fulfil you, tip flushed pink as it brims with precum. It takes everything in you not to sink to your knees and fill your mouth with his cock.

As he approaches the bed, he motions for you to turn around and you do so with no questions asked, back arched as you wait in anticipation as you feel the bed dip with his presence. Jack comes up behind you, body so incredibly close yet somehow so far away as his hands make contact with your burning skin, giving the flesh on your back a brief massage. A surprised hum vibrates in your chest as Jack drags a single finger along the dip of your spine, leaving goosebumps in his wake before he adjusts himself behind you, to which you push your ass back against his hard on.

“Stop teasing.” you sound more desperate than intended, cheek squished into your cool silk pillow.

“Can’t admire my girl before I fuck her?” The nonchalance of his tone draws a mewl out of you, your hips jutting as they search for any more contact. “Besides,”

Hands resting against the mould of your hips, one shifts as you feel his cold index finger draw in between your folds, fingertips swirling around your clit. You moan brokenly, body curling into itself. “You’re just here to take it, aren’t you, princess?”

You’re nodding before your brain can even compute his words, humming along to accentuate your point as his fingertips continue to swirl along the shape of your clit. It’s too much and not enough - a tug of war of sorts that makes your hips rock into Jack, an action that at one point, has his tip catching against your wet entrance. A hiss from behind you sounds as you grapple onto the pillow beside you. 

Jack’s hand leaves you high and dry, but alias, his patiences dissipates into the night sky as he glides into you in one smooth motion, robbing you of your breath and sanity as your mouth gapes open and eyes roll. Sinking into the mattress, your spread legs accommodate for the snap of Jack’s hips as he starts to fuck you from behind, your back curving as you gladly take everything he’s offering. Face mangled into your hoard of pillows, your fingers cling to the duvet for some kind of security, at the mercy of Jack who pleases you in all the way he knows how. 

“How hard do you want me to fuck you?” he asks, maybe genuinely because his strength seems somehow restricted, but you’re keening high in your throat at how filthy his words fall from his rosy lips so easily. 

“Harder,” you plead, losing yourself in the pleasure as your one hand shuffles to rub against your neglected clit. “Harder, please.”

And, he obliges, bullying his cock into you as you gasp at the impact. A smack lands against your ass, the supple surface sizzling as your hips retract, Jack’s ironclad grip holding you from escaping any further as his fingers make indents into your skin like notches in a bedpost. 

“Hang on,” his pace slows, breath laboured as you feel him pull out of you reluctantly. “Turn around. I need to see you.”

You squirm against the sheets, easily complying with Jack’s wishes that suit you, your body turning as your sweaty-layered back sticks to the duvet. In the dimmed light of your bedroom, you catch a glimpse of Jack, whose wet curls fall in all the right places and how every outline of his well-built body drives you wild. You catch the shallow rises of his chest and the flush against his cheeks and as he tucks stray strands of hairs behind his ears, his hands find purchase at your thighs and draw you closer. It’s when he looks into your eyes, shameless in the pleasure written all over his face as he pushes into you again that you think you could never get tired of this view. 

Your walls mould to the shape of his cock, sucking him in entirely as you both moan at the feeling. To add fuel to the fire, Jack decides to unfold your legs and hoist them over his shoulders, the new angle burying him even deeper and bringing you closer to the edge. A huff of amusement sounds from Jack as he peers down at your parted lips, wasting no time in fucking you into the mattress as the bed creaks underneath the pressure. His earlier annoyance rears its head in his movements, unsettled irritation laced in the impact of his thrusts, your cunt leaking all around him as he pounds into you relentlessly. So close in proximity, Jack takes the opportunity to caress your cheek, a sweet gesture as your breath hitches, all before his hand slowly drifts down towards your neck. An affirmative nod from you is he needs to tighten his grip, your brewing orgasm intensifying tenfold as he maintains all the eye contact to make you shudder.

He’s balls deep in you, each hard thrust punctuated by the smack of the wooden headboard against the bedroom wall. You feel him all around you like some wicked embrace: in your stomach, your lungs and around your throat, the snug clasp his calloused hand holds against your pressure points lolling your mouth open, gasping at the sheer intensity stewing within you. 

Jack takes the opportunity, wet curls stuck to his forehead, leaning closer as he spits directly into your mouth, as he does onto the ice throughout his games. Something twists violently in you, back arching off the bed as your lips fall close to moan from the deepest parts within you, the taste of Jack on your tongue. 

“Taking me like such a good girl,” he praises, your reflection plentiful in his eyes. “If I’d known you liked this, would have done it a long time ago.”

Everything begins to blur at the edges like an old photograph, bliss engulfing you in its heavenly fire as your skin shimmers with sweat and your nails scrape at Jack’s shoulder - a futile attempt to regain control that had been long lost, your bodies movement forgotten as you squirm and shiver all over. 

Oxygen courses back into your deprived lungs as Jack releases his grip, burning hand against your cheek as his thumb brushes your cheekbone, catching your fluttering eyelashes. “I got you, baby. Got you, princess.”

“Never been fucked,” a whimper escapes when Jack notches that spongy spot that buries your nails into his skin, “like this. Feels-fuck, good.”

He laughs lightly, pace stuttering yet hitting all the right places. “Love giving my pretty girl what she wants,”

You clench around him, embedding your nails into the flesh of his back as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, gaze scattered. “And my pretty girl wants to come, don’t you?”

He poses the rhetorical question with a mean pinch at your clit before pushing a heavy hand down on your lower stomach, the pressure accelerating you towards your fast-approaching orgasm. The sounds pour out of you like a waterfall, eyebrows furrowed as you plead with begging eyes. “Kiss me?”

“Whatever you want, baby.” he breathes, almost whiny as his hand circles around your nape, your figure floating as your lips collide in a messy embrace, rhythm unmatched as your yearning seeps through your teeth. 

Jack captures all your moans in his mouth, the new angle of his thrusts adding to the sloppiness of your wet kiss. The smack of his stuttering hips knocks against your clit in a way that has you seeing beyond, swallowed whole by his galaxy of stars as he gives you one last jerky thrust, teeth nipping at your bottom lip to undo you. Frayed at the seams, you come undone, unravelling in a mess that perfectly matches Jack as he quickly comes after you, coating your walls as your cunt spasms all around him as he rides out his high. 

Once Jack’s shallow thrusts grind to a halt, he slowly pulls out a heavy sigh, locking eyes with you as he runs a finger down your sensitive cunt just to get a shiver out of you. Your eyebrows knit, a flare of annoyance mixed in with fatigue written across your face that draws a humoured snicker from your boyfriend. He collapses down next to you, a kiss pressed against your cheek before you both aimlessly stare up at the ceiling. 

Amusement tugs at the corners of your lips. “You should get angry more often.” 

“I was just about to say the same thing.” agrees Jack, laughter making its home between you two as nothing but sweetness lingers in the air.

“Come on,” he urges, his hand nudging yours, body prying itself off your bed as he goes to stand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

[babybluewoso]

Foul play, True love (alexia putellas x de almeida!reader) part 1: MADRIDVERSE

warnings: none

enjoy the story!!!!

"The tension between Alexia Putellas and Y/N de Almeida had been simmering for months now. Both were at the height of their careers, each captaining their respective teams—Alexia for FC Barcelona and Y/N for Real Madrid. The rivalry between the two clubs was legendary, but the rivalry between the two players ran even deeper. It wasn’t just about football anymore; it was personal.

Y/N de Almeida, the older sister of Elisa, was known for her playful, carefree attitude. On the field, she was fierce and commanding, but off it, she was always cracking jokes, teasing her teammates, and never missing an opportunity to push someone's buttons in a friendly way. But with Alexia, it was different. The teasing was sharper, the banter laced with something more. Their games against each other had become battles, and it was in those moments when Y/N would lock eyes with Alexia that she could feel her heart racing.

Alexia, on the other hand, was all focus. Her professionalism and determination had earned her the respect of fans and players alike, but Y/N had a way of breaking through her stoic façade. Every interaction between them was charged with an intensity neither could ignore, though they both tried. It wasn’t just the rivalry between their clubs—there was something else between them, something unsaid but always felt.

The breaking point came during a heated match at El Clásico. It was a 0-0 draw in the 89th minute, tensions were running high, and Y/N had just intercepted a pass meant for Alexia. She grinned as she dribbled the ball away, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder.

"Too slow, Putellas," Y/N teased, her voice just loud enough for Alexia to hear.

Alexia, determined, closed the distance, sliding in for a tackle that sent Y/N to the ground. It wasn’t the cleanest tackle, and the referee blew the whistle, giving Y/N’s team a free kick. Y/N pushed herself up from the grass, her playful grin now strained with frustration.

As she stood up, Alexia was already there, standing over her, face unreadable. Y/N, feeling the sting of the tackle, couldn’t help but let the words slip out.

"Nice move, captain. Too bad you can’t win without a foul," Y/N spat, her tone harsher than she intended.

Alexia’s jaw tightened. “If you focused as much on the game as you do on running your mouth, maybe you wouldn’t be on the ground.”

It stung more than it should have, and before Y/N knew it, they were chest to chest, glaring at each other. The crowd was roaring, but all Y/N could hear was the pounding of her own heart. The whistle blew again, breaking their stare-off, and both players reluctantly pulled away.

After the match ended in a draw, neither of them spoke. But the tension between them was undeniable.

Weeks passed, and Y/N couldn’t get Alexia out of her head. She’d always had a playful nature, always the first to crack a joke or break the ice, but when it came to Alexia, she felt… different. The banter wasn’t just fun; it felt personal. But she couldn’t ignore the hurt that Alexia’s words had caused. She’d always thought their dynamic was mutual, a game of cat and mouse, but now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe Alexia really did think she wasn’t good enough.

One night, after a particularly tough training session, Y/N found herself sitting alone in the locker room, scrolling through her phone mindlessly. A text from her sister, Elisa, popped up.

Elisa: "I saw your match. Everything okay with you and Alexia?"

Y/N sighed. Of course, Elisa would notice. They were family, and Elisa knew Y/N better than anyone.

Y/N: "It’s complicated."

The next day, Y/N received an unexpected message from Alexia. A simple text, but it hit Y/N like a ton of bricks.

Alexia: "Can we talk?"

Y/N stared at the screen for a moment before replying.

Y/N: "Sure. Where?"

Later that evening, Y/N found herself outside a quiet café in Barcelona. She hadn’t expected to feel so nervous, but the thought of seeing Alexia outside the football field made her stomach twist in knots. She spotted Alexia sitting at a table by the window, her face partially obscured by a loose strand of hair. For the first time in months, Alexia didn’t look fierce or guarded—she just looked… vulnerable.

Y/N approached slowly, slipping into the seat across from her. For a moment, they sat in silence, the tension between them palpable.

Alexia finally spoke, her voice softer than Y/N had ever heard. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. That tackle… my words… I don’t want this to be like this between us."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sincerity in Alexia’s voice. "Then why does it feel like it’s always a battle between us?"

Alexia met her gaze, and for the first time, Y/N saw something in her eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. Vulnerability. "Because it scares me how much you get under my skin. You make me feel things I’m not used to feeling. And I don’t know how to handle that."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the confession. Her playful demeanor faltered for a moment as she processed Alexia’s words. "You mean… all this time, it wasn’t just about football?"

Alexia shook her head. "No. It’s never been just about football."

Y/N’s heart raced, but this time it wasn’t from anger or frustration. It was from the realization that Alexia felt the same way she did. The teasing, the banter—it had all been a way to mask what they were really feeling.

"Well," Y/N said with a smirk, "I always knew I was irresistible."

Alexia rolled her eyes but smiled, the tension between them easing for the first time in months. "You’re impossible."

"But you like me anyway," Y/N teased, leaning in slightly.

Alexia’s smile softened, her eyes locking with Y/N’s. "Yeah. I do."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversation and laughter, the weight of their unspoken feelings finally lifted. As they left the café, walking side by side under the Barcelona night sky, Y/N’s hand brushed against Alexia’s, and before she could second-guess herself, she intertwined their fingers. Alexia didn’t pull away; instead, she squeezed Y/N’s hand gently.

They stopped in front of Y/N’s car, the air between them charged with something electric. Y/N leaned against the door, pulling Alexia closer, her playful demeanor returning. "So… now what, captain?"

Alexia stepped into her space, her eyes darkening with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. "Now," Alexia whispered, her lips just inches from Y/N’s, "we stop pretending."

And with that, Alexia closed the distance, capturing Y/N’s lips in a kiss that was both soft and fierce, full of all the emotions they had been holding back for so long. Y/N’s hands found their way to Alexia’s waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, a fire igniting between them.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, Y/N grinned, her voice low and teasing. "Took you long enough."

Alexia laughed softly, resting her forehead against Y/N’s. "Shut up."

Y/N chuckled, pressing another kiss to Alexia’s lips, this one softer, filled with the promise of what was to come.

Y/N pulled back slightly, her lips still ghosting over Alexia’s as she whispered, “I like this version of you. The one that’s not trying so hard to beat me all the time.”

Alexia smirked, her fingers toying with the collar of Y/N’s jacket. “Don’t get too used to it. I’m still going to crush you on the field.”

Y/N laughed, her chest vibrating with the sound. “Oh, I expect nothing less, captain.” She tugged Alexia even closer, their bodies flush against each other, feeling the steady beat of Alexia’s heart beneath her touch. “But off the field, we’re not rivals. Deal?”

Alexia looked up at her, the weight of the moment hanging between them. For once, she wasn’t guarded or distant. “Deal.”

Y/N pressed a lingering kiss to Alexia’s forehead before pulling away and opening the door to her car. “Let’s take it one step at a time then. Starting with… maybe a real date?”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you call tonight?”

“Tonight was a heart-to-heart,” Y/N replied, slipping into the driver’s seat and looking up at Alexia. “Our date is going to be… well, you’ll see. I’m full of surprises.”

Alexia leaned down, resting her arms on the open window, her face just inches from Y/N’s. “I’m counting on it,” she said with a playful glint in her eyes before stepping back.

Y/N watched as Alexia disappeared into the night, a soft smile tugging at her lips. The tension that had once defined them was finally gone, replaced by something new—something exciting.

As Y/N drove away, her mind raced with thoughts of the future. For the first time, it wasn’t about the rivalry, the tension, or the unspoken words. It was about what lay ahead for them—together.

Whatever came next, Y/N knew one thing for sure: Alexia was worth it.