#and yes anon i do actually want to draw them

[mellohiizz]

🌀🌀you want to draw devotion duo (zam and mapicc) 🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀you want to draw them soooo bad 🌀🌀🌀🌀

guys i dont know what happened this just randomly appeared on my canvas i dont remember drawing this/j anyway, was going to draw them anyway because that clip now lives in my brain and im getting devotion duo brainworms...

[averlym]

pleaaase may i have 28 and 29 aramour angst ✨ i crave it

28: “Move out of my way before I make you.” // 29: “You deserve better.” (prompt list here)

click for better quality!

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 with a fem!reader who instead of not wanting kids can’t have kids?

This is a popular request, anon. I've had several submissions from various users. Since the theme/idea is similar, I thought I would combine them into one.

Heavy angst ahead, folks. I decided not to sugarcoat with this one. It's heartbreaking. It's sad. And yes, there is comfort and love mixed in.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, angst, infertility, pregnancy, miscarriage, mention of surgical procedure, emotional hurt/comfort, implied abortion/d&c, minor blood

Word Count: 900

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

This time, it sticks.

Somehow.

Miraculously.

After years of struggling, of being told it would never happen, of false results and shattered hopes—it’s happening.

You’d be in denial if it wasn’t for the test results in your hand. It is solid, a print out of what your doctor told you over the phone.

John stands next to you, reading the piece of paper over your shoulder. His shoulders are riddled with tension, lips a thin line. It’s clear that he wants to join in on your joy, but something holds him back.

“Are you happy?” you ask, suddenly nervous.

“I am—I.” John clears his throat. “But last time?”

Last time looked just like this. Last time everything was fine—until it wasn’t. Until the blood and the pain and the hospital visit.

“It might not be like last time.”

John gently grasps the sides of your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You don’t have to. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

“It’s okay, John.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod, and John places his lips to your forehead. “I worry.”

“I know,” you murmur, turning your face into his touch. “But you’re here. And that’s all that matters.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

It all has to go. All of it. There is too much damage.

No uterus. No fallopian tubes. No ovaries.

Gone. All of it. Gone.

Johnny sits next to you on the sofa, his head in his hands. His sigh is heavy as he rubs at his face. When he comes up for air, you know his world is shattered, just likes yours.

“The surgeon said they might be able to save some eggs.” Even you don’t believe the words leaving your mouth. It’s a farce.

“Might?” asks Johnny.

“They won’t know until they’re actually inside.”

Johnny is oddly silent. It’s not like him to be quiet.

“Are you upset?” you ask, tentatively.

“No,” he says sharply. “Not with you. Never with you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, because an apology feels right but you’re not sure why you’re doing it at all.

Johnny places his hand on your knee, squeezing gently. “For what?”

Tears pool, threatening to spill over. “For not being enough.”

He leans in, face serious. “The fact that you think that at all means I’ve failed you. That I haven’t loved you enough.”

“Johnny.”

He draws you in. “This doesn’t make you less worthy of my love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

A heartrate monitor beeps nearby. They’ll release you soon now that you’re awake and aware.

It’s all coming back in pieces.

You remember the cramping, the spotting, and then the bleeding that wouldn’t stop. You remember the cold linoleum floor against your cheek, of losing consciousness, of gaining it again only for the room to spin. You remember how cold you were, and Simon’s hands—of how his voice cracked when he said your name.

You don’t recall the trip to the hospital. You only remember how Simon demanded help while the staff told him he needed to calm down.

But he’s here now—and no one is yelling. He sits in a chair next to your hospital bed, face grim and skin pale like he hasn’t slept in days.

There have almost always been complications—always been issues while trying to conceive, but of those that have ended, it’s never been like this.

You turn your head, and as if sensing you, Simon glances up from his silent musings. You offer your hand. Simon takes it, and though he doesn’t squeeze hard, you feel the desperation in the way he clings to you.

“I’m not risking you. Never again.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Your friend opens the gift, presenting it to the gathered crowd. Everyone fawns over the set of baby blankets. There are several in total, all pale pastels.

You smile and agree that it’s a wonderful gift. Outwardly, everything is fine. Internally, your mind is still at home, lingering on the four pregnancy tests hidden in the bathroom bin beneath a pile of toilet paper.

Each one negative. Each one a glaring stain on the long list of failures.

Kyle emerges from the kitchen with the father-to-be, a massive grin on his face. This baby shower is a reminder to you of all your shortcomings. For Kyle, this is hope—a vision of the future.

And you haven’t told him. Haven’t said a word about those four negative tests.

How many years of trying now?

But you’re still young.

Don’t stress about it.

It’s so easy for others to stick their nose in, which is why you don’t share anymore.

Kyle plops down next to you. The happiness there is palpable, so thick it’s almost like butter on the tongue. You’re going to shatter it—hurt him yet again.

He presents his hand, palm upward.

You snatch it like a lifeline, and squeeze—hard. Kyle frowns at your entwined fingers. His gaze sweeps upward.

In your friend’s hands is a onesie for a newborn. Everyone coos, and something in you breaks. You’re smiling, but you sense the threatening tears.

Kyle’s frown shifts to a sad smile.

He knows. You don’t have to say anything.

Lifting your joined hands, Kyle brings the back of your palm to his lips. Placing a quick kiss there, he then kisses your forehead. He adds another kiss to spot just behind your ear.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

No one is watching.

“I love you.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[velvetwyrme]

which deception would have an sti AND fuck cars?

in reference to: https://www.tumblr.com/penny-anna/767952128217104384/imagine-youre-a-mechanic-in-the-transformers?source=share

okay. so. first off. anon, thank you for sending me this because the idea that you read that post and just went- "hey, you know who i should pose this question to?" and sent it to me- is hysterical and i lvoe u.

anyway theres also a Texty answer under the cut if you want to read that, because i genuinely DO have thoughts about this, but i wanted to draw that comic because this ask made me laugh very hard when i saw it in my inbox.

also, the thrilling conclusion of the comic answer:

he fucked that car!!!!!!!

hi! Texty time. I think a lot of them would have/be one but not the other (either has a STI or is a Carfucker) but i included some of those here anyway because i think my thought process was funny for some of them. this is all purely my own opinions etc. etc. no basis for anything only vibes. i went through a lot of options and came to a lot of conclusions.

to reiterate the Chart for claritys sake:

Soundwave: No STI and no Carfucking. This is true across all versions of Soundwave imo. Rumble and Frenzy are a solid no on the STI front and a solid yes on the Carfucking.

Starscream: no STI, no Carfucking (despite what Soundwave thinks). TFP!Starscream specifically might have an STI though. Sorry man. Skywarp definitely has/had a STI but gets it treated on account of his trinemates. No Carfucking. Thundercracker would fuck a car but doesn't have an STI.

Shockwave: ??? - I'm not sure I want to know. "Once, as part of an experiment" was the original thing I wrote for his answer lol. True across continuities as well.

Anyway. moving on...

My actual answer for Megatron: REALLY depends on continuity. Here's a sample:

G1? Yeah, probably both. I can see it.

IDW/MTMTE? Nah. Maybe? ... Nah. I feel like if he had an STI it'd have been back when he was a miner. Would not fuck a car.

Earthspark? I feel like no STI but yes to the Carfucking. Except he feels really guilty about it after. I still haven't watched ES but this is the impression I get from him.

TFA? oh god. i don't know... i don't know....... he probably fucks cars. No STI.

TFP? Yeah absolutely are u kidding me? Yes to both.

Constructicons: I feel like they'd be a yes to both, but not at the same time, so they wouldn't have been the one/s to transmit a STI to a car. Also Hook would be ON TOP of treatment. Once they ALL got infected after combining into Devastator, and that was miserable for everyone. Nobody has fessed up to being the one who had it in the first place, but now they have treatment on hand just in case.

Also while on the topic of combiners... I think some of the Stunticons are also pretty good candidates for STI/Carfucking. Motormaster, Drag Strip and Wildrider in particular shfkgbekfbk

I considered Tarn/The DJD and Overlord just because of how freaky them guys can get, but I think Tarn runs too tight a ship for that to happen, and Overlord is preoccupied with. worse things. The Scavengers on the other hand... sorry to Misfire, I can see him giving a car a STI. Relatedly, Grimlock would fuck a car but not have an STI.

Who else................................ wait.

Astrotrain. I can see it. Okay bye im going to sleep this took me too long to reply to fhfjfbrmfbdj

[beloveds-embrace]

DukeDom Poly!141

So, in one of the things (Simon and pleasure), you mentioned boudoir paintings…

OMFG I CAN JUST IMAGINE HIM MAKING ALL OF THEM DO ONE, I bet you he hangs them in his room. OH OH OH! also, I bet Simon can draw skjsudisndh 😭😩! HED SIT DOWN WHILE ONE OF THE OTHERS IS GOING AT IT WITH THEIR DUCHESS AND JUST DRAWS IN HIS CHAIR ON THE SIDE 😩😩. Reader laying on her back or ass up in the air, all sweaty and glowing while one of the boys goes at her in bliss and Simon just drawing her from the side lines… 😫🤭😩

Also, can I be 🪭 anon?

Dukedom 141 masterlist

God, Simon painting them himself? Absolutely yes.

He’d do sooo many paintings of you, it’d be concerning if you could actually think past the pleasure that clouds your mind. He has you in so many different lingeries, things that make you turn warmer than a furnace and your men’s eyes darken with want; silks and laces that snag around your soft skin, garter belts that frame the length of your thighs, custom panties with nothing more than a neat, glowy string of pearls to line your cunt with a matching jewelry set.

Simon dresses you himself, and none of the men say anything against it; he is in his element, drawing the stockings up your legs and kissing your ankles along the way, big hands carressing your calves. He takes his time lacing up your corsets and bras, kissing up your spine, cupping your tits in his big, warm hands and kneading and groping until your nipples are stiff enough for his liking, for what he needs to do his painting, and you have that lovely, desperate and needy expression on your face.

Simon may do the painting, but to him, the scene itself is art: you, you, you. Face down and ass up, bared to his gaze and brushes while Kyle keeps your hips up with a hand under your belly and three fingers pumping in and out of you, your noises, sweet moans and cries, a background melody with Kyle whispering praises into you ear until Simon can see how well you cream around those thick fingers.

Art, that’s what you truly are. No painting will ever truly capture your beauty, but still, Simon tries-

And that means he also has you in so many different poses. Another day, another lingerie sets, teeth marks indented over your body, your ankles and calves, while Johnny keeps you pinned and spread with his body. Simon focuses on your straining muscles, your pretty painted nails raking down Johnny’s back and leaving behind angry red lines that don’t compare to the way he pistons into you, your pretty cunt stretched around him and your combined cum drenching the bed. Your legs, adorned in heels Simon specifically got for you, shake and tremble, your pleasure visible and audible to all.

And John… Simon doesn’t think he’s ever seen a better seat for you than his face. You look perfect, twitching and whining, your hair and makeup a mess of a canvas, John’s hands around your hips like unbending snakes. He’s made you cum so many times, your nub swollen and sensitive under his heavy tongue, you’ve soaked his beard, his face, his neck- and yet he doesn’t stop. A queen has no reason to leave her seat, no? And yet it’s your expression that has Simon fixated, the way you look around, look at him as if you want to beg him to save you or join you. Maybe both.

Simon paints each and every one. Moments frozen in his paintings, never comperable to the real thing, and yet adored all the same.

(And you stare at the finished paintings with awe, in spite of your blush. The way he’s drawn you… you never knew you were seen so beloved.

You turn back to Simon, bejeweled fingers wrapping around his cravat, and pull him close to kiss the corner of her lips. Your men continue to admire the paintings, but you are focused on the painter.

“I want one of you and I, Simon my love.”)

First time writing smut (if this can even be considered that 💀😭)

[catssluvr]

it would be sososo wonderful if you wrote a cute little blurb abt Spencer and fem!BAU!reader both coming into work with little doodles all over their arms and the team notices or something <3 (yes this is the same anon that sent the headcanon lol)

hii! i loved your headcanon and am so glad you requested this 💌

𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔, spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader

you relationship with spencer is revealed when you both show up to work with doodles on your arms <3

warnings: none <3

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Spencer reaches for the mug full of hot coffee, taking a generous sip. His button up feels almost immediately too hot, body warming up due to the hot beverage. He rolls up his sleeves without a second thought, arms covered in little doodles on full display to anyone in the bullpen who decides to look at them.

"Hey, pretty boy. Did you see- are those hearts?" Derek approaches his desk with a teasing smile already making it's way to his lips. Spencer scrambles to cover his arms up, clumsy pulling his sleeves down.

"Did i see what?" He feigns innocence, crossing his arms over his chest as he's way too nervous to actually button up the sleeves. There's no way he's going to out the relationship he's been hiding for a good few months because of some doodles.

"Oh no, you're not running away from this. Why have you got cute drawings all over your arms, uh?" He teases even further, trying to take a peek at the skin under Spencer's button up.

Your gaze immediately shoots up to them once you realize what Derek is referring to, quickly faking a normal expression once you realize your eyes have widened. You pretend to be looking at the files in your table, waiting for the answer. Your table is not far from his so you really have to keep it cool.

"I uh- i was bored and drew them." Spencer says the first excuse that comes to mind and realizes rather quickly how bad it sounds. His neck turns red and it soon spreads to his cheeks and ears too.

"You want me to believe you were bored and decided to draw hearts and butterflies on your arms? Sure, Reid." He chuckles, making sure to give him a hard time.

"Aw, does my sweet boy genius have a girlfriend?" Penelope snoops in, a less teasing and more bright smile on her lips.

"It sounds like he does. Unless he's suddenly ambidextrous and is able to draw perfect hearts on both of his arms." Emily comments, just as interested to make Spencer flustered as Derek.

"I- What if i am?!" Spencer's voice comes out a tad bit squeakier than intended, facade crumbling very easily. He looks at you almost desperately, trying to find a way out of this interrogation without having to reveal your relationship.

"Come on guys, leave the poor boy alone." Rossi saves him before you can, but he seems just as curious as the rest of them. Raised eyebrows and looking directly at him.

"Do you know anything about this, gorgeous?" Derek turns his gaze to you. Spencer gulps nervously, trying to act as normal as possible now that you're also about to be involved.

"Me? Why would i know?" You question a bit too defensively. Lying isn't exactly your forte and now that everyone is looking at you, it feels even harder.

"Wait- do i sense jealously?" It now feels like you're the next chosen victim to their interrogation. You might have aimed for careless but it definitely came off as defensive and bothered.

"You really don't." You roll your eyes as you answer, noticing the way Spencer gives you an apologetical look. You smile for long enough so that he notices but quick enough so no on else sees it.

"I think we do." Rossi agrees with Derek.

You sigh exasperatedly, hand coming to rub your forehead. What you don't notice is the way your shirt rids down, exposing your also covered arm.

"Oh my god- she has them too!" Penelope gasps, not holding back the surprise.

You wonder how they hadn't figured out you and Spencer are dating before. You both aren't exactly great liars and it was just a matter of time until someone caught one of your stollen kisses on the workplace.

"Oops?" You mutter out, cheeks painfully hot as you give up on trying to hide it. There's no way they would believe any kind of excuse now.

"Can't say i'm surprised." Emily is the first to say anything, leaving to go back to her desk as if nothing had happened.

"I'm so happy for you guys." Penelope ruffles Spencer's hair with a smile that's definitely making her cheeks hurt, while Derek resumes to shaking his head with a chuckle.

Spencer gives you a lopsided smile and you quickly realize he's trying to know if you're okay with all of it. You nod with a smile of your own, fingers tracing the doodles on your arm.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

love you,

cat 🤍

[frownyalfred]

Hi. I'm not a canon purist and enjoy some fanon content very much, but I do think people in the fandom should at least familiarize themselves with the canon content and source material. It's easier to break the "rules" so to speak and experiment with canon when you know what that actually is. I've noticed a lot of fans that are only familiar with fanon criticise content that doesn't line up with what they believe to be canon but isn't. The Red Hood for example. I've seen writers who portray him as the violent criminal he is in much of the canon be completely decimated by Jason fans who only know fanon and the retconned version of Red Hood and completely deny canon even exists and refuse to even glance at the comics. Transformative works are important and playing in the sandbox is for everyone but fandom literally cannot exist without canon. Canon is important and people can do whatever they want with it but they should respect it enough to at least look at it.

Hi anon, I'm going to hold your hand as I say this, and I will say it as gently as I can: This is still a form of canon purism.

We can absolutely agree that readers shouldn't berate or abuse writers for how they choose to portray characters in fic, whether that's a more canon-faithful characterization or a popular fanon version. If readers don't like how a character is portrayed, we should encourage them to hit the back button instead.

I want to draw your attention to some of the words you used in your ask above: "should" "respect" "decimated" etc. Those are some strong words to describe how you think people need to behave, in order to exist in fandom. Of course, there is no fandom without canon source material -- I'm not denying that. But with such a wide and varied canon, the DC fandom has examples of the Red Hood you mention above, AND the "retconned" version you also reference. Both are canon, as in actually, officially, canon. WFA is canon, and that Red Hood looks very different from the Red Hood you describe.

Now, I think your issue is that you enjoy a certain version of canon, and you're frustrated that the fandom doesn't also, as trends ebb and flow, enjoy that canon as much as you do. Again, I want to acknowledge that just because a certain version is popular, it doesn't give folks the right to berate authors for writing a different version. But again, I don't think that's what we're really talking about here. From your ask's tone, I think you're suggesting that people should, in order to participate in fandom, read that older canon, that different version, or as you say, "glance at it" before enjoying or writing the fanon version.

Guess what? They actually, really, really, don't have to. It sounds like you have some issues with judging your fellow fandom members who don't read what you do or reference certain canon. But the magic of this fandom is, you can enter it at any point. We're a big pool, and if someone's entry point is the Lego Batman movie and that's it, that's still valid.

Fandom stems from canon, yes, but I almost never hear people talk about movies, or web comics, or other media when they talk about "required reading." It's always a comic. I really wish people would reflect on that before suggesting it as the one true path to being a fan.

The other thing I don't see asks like these reference ever is the reality that sometimes a fandom outstrips its canon material, and that that's an eventuality in some spaces. Fanon interpretations become popular, and people write about those specific characterizations or scenarios. They ebb and flow, like I mentioned, and some are more canon-faithful than others. Some completely reject canon, and again -- it's still fandom. It doesn't make it better or worse than a more canon-faithful fic. It's just different.

I had a couple asks about this topic a few weeks ago, and I'm assuming you haven't read those or you likely wouldn't have sent me this ask. But in them, I discuss how sometimes we need to suck it up and be unhappy that canon-faithful fics aren't as popular in a fandom at a specific time, and stop punishing fellow fans for writing and enjoying those fics. And we really need to stop shitting on them publicly on Tumblr.

Because often, what you're really saying is that you wish more people would write more canon-faithful fics, and stop writing ones about fanon topics you don't enjoy or think are accurate. And to that, I again say, there is nothing you can or should do to change that behavior from others. If you want to read it, write it, enjoy it, etc, do it yourself. Build the comic-faithful community here, write fics and promote challenges, create a discord channel and discuss your "required reading" there.

We are all writing and reading fanfiction at the end of the day. It is a great equalizer in many ways. My silly Lego Batman fic is just as valid as a canon-faithful rewrite of a certain Batman issue. One is not better than the other, or more deserving of respect. You will never get me to admit otherwise on this blog.

tl;dr: people should absolutely not berate authors who choose to write canon-faithful characterizations. however, there are layers of judgement and disdain many DC comics canon-faithful authors/readers have for their fellow fans that I think we need to examine critically in order to coexist respectfully.

[lundenloves]

bro ik simon buys his daughter some silly ass shit on missions😭 like he will buy her a mug ( a mug, FOR A BABY. ) titled: "worlds best daughter and dad duo" .. wont even let the reader hold their kid as long as hes some n shit.. just pls dad!simon hcs PLS

you ask and you shall receive anon. here are the current thoughts swooshing around in my messy brain right now. 🪄

dad!simon masterlist | hc 2

my god definitely tho.

He’s the definition of girldad. To a T. Like, when she’s younger and he’s still new to the whole thing it’s all scary but once he’s past that and realises it’s literally just a tiny person. It’s over for everyone around him.

That little girl is worth crushing skulls for fr.

Waking up in the middle of the night to baby cries was something he took in stride. The first few times definitely scared the shit out of him and he wanted to wake you up. But then again, realising that it was just a tiny person. He would get up and probably fall asleep on the sofa with her instead of taking her back to the cot.

Not that he would admit it but he felt way more relaxed with her sleeping on his chest.

Shirtless.

SKIN. TO. SKIN.

When she gets older, she starts asking questions about him and his job and all the ‘why’ follow ups. We’re talking ages 7-9 here.

“Why wear skull stuff if you’re called Ghost?”

“It’s a callsign.”

“What’s a callsign?”

“A nickname.”

“Why?”

Literally his mini-me though. She follows him everywhere. All around the house, upstairs downstairs, outside inside. EVERYWHERE. He never grows tired of it though. Always entertaining the questions.

“Do you have a name?”

“Yes. I have a name.”

Then telling her it and she goes onto call him Simon for three days straight before moving onto another source of entertainment.

She draws pictures of 141. Penning a little version of herself in the middle of the men, a big arrow pointing to each of them labelled by their names spelt wrong. Sop. Pris.

Soap draws pictures back stfu.

Definitely the type of relationship with his daughter where they’re close until she becomes interested in boys and her dad is suddenly embarrassing lmaoooo.

Johnny is actually the embarrassing uncle.

Her first boyfriend my days.

I know by this point, he has another daughter. No one can convince me otherwise. He has a minimum of two.

“She’s gonna see her boyfriend.” The younger one would sing and Simon is right onto that shit. Dad stance n’ all.

“What age is he?” First question.

“Dad.”

LeaveTheDoorOpen™️

His kids don’t actually know what he works as. It’s like, no one knows exactly what their dad does. SAS shit or smth.

For forms, he just waves a hand of dismissal and is like, “Just say i’m in the army.”

“Are you in the army?”

“No.” this mf

Having two daughters definitely be teaching him a lot. Like periods. He never took them seriously until he was being barked at for the seventeenth time in one day, deciding in that moment to understand.

Also the designated bag holder and credit card user on shopping trips.

Dilf.

this is short but i’m writing a huge smut for him rn don’t tell anyone. you. yes, you.

taglist? click this link to complete the form.

[jemiswumbo]

she’s out of her mind

luke castellan x daughter of hades!reader

anon prompt: Hey babes! I saw your post about wanting prompts and I was wondering you could write Luke Castellan x Daughter of Hades! Reader where it's like sunshine (Luke) x grumpy (Reader) trope?

authors note: hello i am back with a small drabble for the cute prompt above! i got drunk off of applebees dollaritas and wrote this in 15mins so do with that information what you will. hope you enjoy! :)

title is from she’s out of her mind by blink-182. lyrics are a lil fitting.

warnings: none? i think? it’s just fluff, i think. sort of.

“Wake up, sunshine.”

You groaned low and deep, releasing a guttural sound full of pure agony. Rolling over on your (extremely warm, cozy, sleep inducing) bed, you came face to face with your boyfriend, Luke Castellan, who was currently opening up the curtains in your cabin.

Being the only child of Hades at the camp, the entire cabin was sparse and empty, save for the corner you called home. There was a bed with black sheets and blanket, a side table full of the few memorabilia you had to your name, and a dresser beside that which held your extensive collection of black clothing. The walls resembled the inner workings of a cavern; slick rock prodded with small bones and beautiful jewels encapsulated the bedroom areas. Sconces held lit torches burning bright with turquoise Greek fire.

Your favourite part of the cabin, though, was the specially-crafted blackout curtains that were typically drawn tight over the windows. Not even a sliver of light could penetrate the thick, black, velvet drapes. That was, until, your idiot boyfriend took it upon himself to draw them open. The harsh blades of sunlight violated your eyes, illiciting your pained groan. You hated it when people interrupted your sleep.

“Luke,” You whined, shoving your face into your pillow, hoping to evade the blinding light. “Let me sleep, please, for the love of the gods.”

“Fuck the gods,” Luke said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice without needing to see his (cute, devilishly handsome) face. “Anyways, it’s 9am! You’ve slept in long enough and I wanna have breakfast with you and your pretty face.” Luke flopped down on the bed beside you and flipped your body back over with ease, in a foolish attempt to force you into the world of the living.

Typical for a child of Death, you kept your eyes squeezed shut and pounded the bedsheet with your fist. “I will literally, genuinely, actually murder you without hesitation if you don’t leave me the fuck alone.”

“That’s no way to talk to your boyfriend.” Luke said, pressed a small kiss to your nose. You swatted him away with anger.

Any other (normal, rational, smart) kid at camp would’ve soiled their pants and fled in terror from such a threat uttered by the one and only daughter of Hades. You were capable of a simple killing — you were graciously bestowed the gift of sucking out the souls of mortals with a mere flick of the wrist — and so it was only logical to fear such a ghastly claim. Luke, however, had realized early on in your Camp days that you were full of shit and would never hurt a fly. He took an opportunity to befriend you and you’d been dating for a few years now. You were (truly, madly, deeply) in love with him and yes, despite your immense hatred for morning sunlight, you would never actually hurt him.

“Come on,” he prodded again, cuddling up beside you and tapping your forehead mischievously. You mustered the courage to crack open one eye (barely) and saw him grinning down at you. “Wake up, baby. Let’s get breakfast and then spend the day at the docks. We can swim and sun bathe and have a picnic—“

“Gods, you’re ambitious today,” you grumbled, rolling back over to face the opposite direction of Luke (and, the open windows), allowing him to grab your waist and pull you up against his chest. “I hate being in the sun. You know this.”

“Yeah, but I like to try new things with you,” Luke said, peppering a few kisses down your jaw and the side of your neck, squeezing his taut arm around your torso. “And I’m dying to see you in a bikini.”

“Perv,” you mumbled, but deep down you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, causing a crimson blush to bloom over your chest. “Give me another hour to sleep.”

“No,” Luke said, and now it was his turn to groan impatiently. “Please, now, for me? I love you and want to spend time with you.”

“I hate you and want you to leave me alone,” you replied, pulling your fluffy duvet back up over your shoulders. “Bed time.”

“Beach time,” Luke decided. He sat up slightly and ripped the blankets entirely off your form, exposing your body to the cold air of the morning.

You shrieked. “Luke, you asshole—“

Luke jumped out of the bed, smiling wide. He gathered up all the blankets up into his arms, much to your dismay, and held them away from you. You only wore shorts and a tank top to sleep last night, and the chill in the room froze you right to your bones. Luke bundled up the bedding into a ball and fired it across the room. “There, now you’re acclimated.”

“You’re dumb as hell.”

“You are a grouchy, sleepy demon who needs breakfast and vitamin D.”

“Ugh!” You exploded, finally shoving yourself out of bed in a fit of exasperation. Luke had the audacity to applaud you. “Okay, there, I’m up!”

“So proud of you, my sleeping beauty,” Luke remarked. He crossed the room to you and placed a tender kiss to your lips, making sure to nip at your pouty bottom lip.

“Sorry for being rude,” You murmured, after having kissed him back. “I love you. I just don’t love being woken up.”

“I know,” Luke said with a grin. “I actually think you’re cute when your grumpy, so I do it on purpose to bug you.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the small smirk from appearing on your cheeks. “Whatever. You promised breakfast and I’m starving, so let’s go.”

Luke mimicked your playful eyeroll. He took your hand, leading you out the door and towards the dining pavilion.

note 2: hi hi! if you read this and enjoyed it and maybe want to read more from me, i would super appreciate prompts and requests sent to my inbox! can’t guarantee i’ll write them all but i will for sure try my best! thanks for reading! :)

[divinegrey]

ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ʙʟᴜᴇ / ᴊɪɴx x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sorry for the wait everybody!! been writing other things in the meantime, arcane hasn't been my sole focus. also i have homework and exams. but here's something to appease all of you!! anon, i hope i did this prompt justice!

prompt: I'd like to request a Jinx x Fem! Reader. I like the idea of the reader being a follower of Jinx, as I think the dynamic could be fun. I think it could be cool to explore a follower of Jinx getting to know her and realizing that she's more than just a symbol. She's a multifaceted individual.

words: 1585

warnings: none

It started when she caught you tagging the side of a building. With her face, no less. 

With all the shit going down in Zaun in the wake of Silco’s death and every gang leftover fighting for scraps of power, it was only time before Jinx caught up to the fact that while yes, her face is plastered everywhere on wanted posters, there are about a dozen more spray-painted graffiti tags of her over them. Which was the goal of what you were doing when she dropped down from a building and walked to your side. 

All she did was look at the statuesque version of her face, washed in shades of blue, and say, “My nose doesn’t look like that.” 

And she was right.

Of course, with time, you got better at it. The wanted posters did a mean disservice, honestly. The only thing they got correct were the pink eyes, pink eyes that followed you when you went to your shitty box of an apartment and flopped onto a mattress flattened by years of use. You’d go to sleep, wake up, grab your paint duffel, and head back out again. The nice thing about Zaun is that there’s always an empty spot just waiting to be tagged. 

Somehow, Jinx always finds you. 

“You know people see you as a leader, right?” You say, shaking a can of neon pink, the ball rattling around inside the canister. You glance over your shoulder to where Jinx sits on some pipes connected to the wall, her braids dangling and the gold bullet casings wrapped around reflecting the faint light that falls through the fissures. With a gesture to your own head of hair, dyed an insane hodge-podge of bright colors, blue included, you continue, “Silco’s gone. Whole world down here has turned upside down. But for the first time in a while, we’ve got hope. Cuz of you. Cuz of what you did to those fuckin’ Pilties.” 

“For all the good it did,” Jinx remarks, a dryness to her tone you’ve come to know and love. 

“I’m serious. C’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t know the reason why I keep painting you? Why a dozen other taggers I know keep painting you? Why the color blue is nearly sold out in every damn shop?” You kneel down, arcing a curve of pink paint along the grey brick wall, moving quick and precise. Overthinking it makes it worse. “I’m not wearing spray-painted clothes in your colors for nothin, Jinx.” 

She turns, peering at you. In the shadows, her eyes seem to reflect some more, glowing like a cat’s would. “Because y’all have some weird, deluded sense that I’m a leader, or somethin’.” 

“You are. To me. To us.” You point at the other tags in the alleyway, some of them copies of the same mark you’ve seen a dozen times around town. Jinx’s name, sigils of BOOM! and explosives doodled about. You twist and take a seat on the scaffolding, your legs dangling off the side of it. “I didn’t know you when I first started drawing you. I heard what you did, and I thought damn, there’s someone out there willing to actually do something. In a single day, you did more than Silco ever did in years. Sure, we might be going head long into a war, but dying free is better than living under someone else’s boot.” 

Jinx hums. She leaps off the pipes, crossing the gap between you and her with ease, landing on the wooden scaffolding. She straightens up, gazing at the half-finished tag you’re working on. With a hum, she turns to you, and puts something in your hand. Before you have the time to look down and figure out what it is, Jinx says, “Nozzle control. Quality on some of your cans are shit, no offense. Slap that thing on it and you won’t have an issue after that.” 

“Oh, thanks—” 

“Don’t mention it!” Jinx steps off the scaffolding, landing on the ground below with a THUD. “And for the record, I ain’t the kinda person to follow.” 

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to convince me!” You call down, grinning from ear to ear. Her brows furrow together, then a small huff, a hint of a smile on her own face. She walks away, off to do… whatever it is that she does when she’s not hanging out with you. 

It isn’t for some time that you see her again. You’d say you’re worried, but you pass through the crowds hearing whispers of Jinx sightings. Every day, it seems another head of blue hair appears, the quiet signs of revolution brewing in the heart of Zaun as the enforcers grow more and more strict, searching anyone and everyone for some hint or clue to find the one that destroyed the Council Chamber in Piltover. You’ll never say a word. 

You walk into your apartment. Work was… work, boring and mind-numbing as it always is. You wonder if you can handle another day of it, but another day will bring another chance of seeing her out there, so you decide not to fly off the handle just yet. You shrug off the soot-stained work clothes, and where you reach for your paint-splattered jacket, it isn’t there. 

Instead, a note. 

Never had anyone believe in me quite like you. The Hound’s statue, midnight. Come and get it. 

With the pink lettering and the doodles of monkeys and bombs scribbled across the page, it doesn’t need to be said just who left this note. You snatch it off the wall, utterly beaming; Gently, you fold it into fourths, tucking it into your shirt. Thank god for the late shift— less waiting!

Any of the weariness you might’ve felt before is gone as you race through the streets, taking any and every shortcut you know. The night is quiet, what with the enforced curfew put up by the Pilties to discourage wandering, not that they’ve done a good job of it. Zaun is Zaun, and the cogs down here will always keep turning, whether Piltover likes it or not. 

When you arrive at the open plaza where the statue erected to Vander, the Hound of the Underground, is, your mouth drops in shock to find the entire plaza covered, every square inch of it, in neon paint. Sigils upon sigils that you have seen time and time again, glowing in the dark. It reaches all the way to the statue, pink highlights in Vander’s hair and blue accents along his metal jacket. 

Sitting on the shoulder of the statue, paint can in one hand and your jacket in the other, is Jinx. 

“Shoulda known you’d be a little early. Good thing, I work fast,” Jinx remarks. She crooks a finger at you to come closer, and you do, taking care to step over the paint lines on the stone. You’re a little in awe of the work she’s done— how has nobody taken notice? Come to think of it, you heard there was a scuffle a few blocks away. The logistics don’t seem to matter anymore the closer you get to her. 

You arrive at the base of the statue. “How’d you even know where I live?” 

“Sweets, there are a lot of things I know about you. And a lotta things you know about me. Things that might drive other people away, but not you,” Jinx says, something like an angel as she looks down upon you from the statue. In the flash of a second and the trace of neon light left in the sky, she’s standing in front of you, your back pressed against the statue. The beam of moonlight that breaks through shines on her, her shimmer-pink eyes locked onto your frame. “You keep sticking to the inside my brain, can’t stop thinking about you.” 

“Could say the same for you,” you reply, a little breathless. “Why’d you do all this? Get my jacket and bring me here?” 

“Cuz you showed me somethin’ important. That people, for whatever crazy reason they got in their head, believe in me,” Jinx says. She holds out your jacket to you, and you take it, slipping your arms through the sleeves and fixing the collar so it stands upright. Her eyes go from bottom to top, taking her sweet time. “I wanna show em what I can do. Give those people with my blue in their hair a reason to keep going. To keep fighting.” 

“You have me. All the way, Jinx,” you say, putting a hand over the front of your jacket, where a pink heart has been painted. “So what do you wanna do? Other than all this?”

“Right now?” Jinx cocks a grin. “I wanna kiss you.” 

What? You blink, wondering if you heard that right, but her taking a step closer to you only confirms that yes, you did hear it right. You swallow the nerves, finding your cheeks hurting from how hard you’re smiling. “And then what?” 

“And then, we show Zaun all the fun we have to offer, and we tell Piltover to shove their Hextech where the sun don’t shine,” Jinx finishes, her hands grabbing the lapels of your jacket and pulling you in. Your lips touch hers, something you never thought would happen, not in your wildest dreams. 

But here you are, arms wrapped around Jinx as she kisses you in the streets of Zaun, the cry of revolution soon to come. 

~~~~~

A/N: thank you for reading!! comments are always appreciated <3

[sunandflame]

So, I have it in my head that Kyojuro’s nipples are really sensitive (and if he doesn’t have much experience then I don’t think he would know that), but I think someone could get him real hot and bothered just by playing with them (and fuck it is so hot when big strong guys like their titties played with, amiright??)

🥹🙏🏼 could please have a drabble of someone figuring that out? Maybe both him and whoever’s getting their paws under his shirt figuring it out together? Sitting in his lap and teasing him for however long —light, tiny little pinches that make him squirm and whimper, warm, swirling circles with your fingertips that make his jaw drop open, fluttering nudges and flicks that make his hips buck under you. Anything you do to them gets a reaction, could do it for hours, but five minutes of it and he’s a wiggly, panting mess, but he doesn’t want you to stop so you try putting one in your mouth and—- 😈🥵

Dear anon baby, you are so fucking right. This is indeed very hot. When I saw this I KNEW this was way too good to dismiss this delicious idea. I am just so sorry for answering this so late. I hope you are still around and I hope you enjoy it!

Weak Spot

Warnings: suggestive, nipple play, nipple teasing, dry humping, smut

Word Count: 701

Pairing: Kyojuro x Reader

crossposted on AO3

You were sitting on your favorite place in this whole world and that was your boyfriend's lap. You liked how his muscular and big thighs felt under your thighs. In the beginning of your relationship you were so self conscious, not sure if your weight crushed him, but Kyojuro assured you that you weighed nothing for him. After you made sure that he was not lying to make you feel better for your weight, you started to sit more often on his lap as this was a way to be as close as possible. 

It was winter and you started to feel cold, searching for some heat that you knew that your boyfriend would provide. Your mind was absent when your hand wandered under his shirt, laying your hand on his chest and stroking his skin. 

A little gasp was to be heard and you lifted your head to see into your boyfriend's eyes who was starting to blush. 

“Kyojuro honey, are you okay?”  Curious you furrowed your eyebrows

“Hm, yes yes. It’s nothing!”

“If you say so…” 

You thought nothing of it and placed your head on his shoulder again and continued your stroking. Your fingers accidentally brushed his nipples and then you heard it again. That little sweet gasp of his. Can it be…? Now your hands slid over his chest not involuntarily but carefully, brushing against his nipple until you heard him holding back a whimper. Oh he is sensitive there… A mischievous idea came into your mind and your fingers were now circling around his nipple to tease him lightly. 

“My flame…” His voice was strained, as he was trying to gain his last self control, his face completely red. “Please…”

“Please what…?” Your fingers didn’t stop drawing circles around his nipple until you decided to give them a very slight flick. That caused him to buck his hip under you. He realized what he had just done and his face turned into a scarlet tone, embarrassed over his own reaction.

You undid his shirt and revealed those sweet manly titties that you were keen to explore now. You continued to stroke them with your fingers. And his jaw actually fell open when you were fluttering nudges and started to flick his nipples. The bulge of his, under your lap, was pushing against your ass and thigh. His skin was too hot and you decided that he needed a cool off by your mouth.

You drawed out your tongue, licking first his chest before you finally got to your desired target. You heard him whimper as he wiggled under you but did nothing to push you away. He enjoyed this far too much even if you overstimulated him.

Kyojuro was truly a mess. It was the first time he experienced those things and he was not sure how further he could go. His skin was tingling and feeling hot. His pants were incredibly tight and he worried that his zipper wouldn’t hold his dick anymore if you continued to play with his chest like this. Things didn't get any better when you started to dry hump him, causing more friction. That’s it. It was impossible to hold back his moan. He grabbed tightly on your waist as he tried to stop your hips from moving. 

His strength was remarkable and something that had always turned you on, but this did not stop you from continuing your play with his nipples. So you went further, licked and bit his chest, eliciting all those sweet moans and whimpers from him, while his hands bruised your waist. You did not mind at that point. You would wear those love marks with pride. 

You did a quick cat lick. It felt so deliciously warm after all that preparation you had done. So beautiful red and puckered. You sunk your teeth into his nipple and that was the moment where he came undone, trembling as he gasped for air. You felt how his cock was twitching under you and a wet spot forming on his pants. A satisfied smile was on your lips as you gave him a kiss on his lips.

“I guess we found out your weak spot, my love.”

[b0nten]

COOKIES

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ baking cookies with ran

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ fem reader, rindou guest appearance🤗; requested by anon !! not proofread

“girl, you know damn well we could’ve bou—”

“shut it.”

RAN snaps his mouth shut — as instructed — while his brows raise and eyes widen.

“yes ma’am.” he nods, looking at you expectantly, like he’s a puppy waiting to be rewarded after doing a trick.

he looks around the kitchen, and sighs. if it makes you happy, then he’ll bear the burden of spending the next hour in front of the stove, melting butter and sticky hands from separating eggs.

‘if it makes you happy’ has become his new mantra, at this point.

“come onnnnnnnnnnn!” a whine echoes from the living room, “i’m hun-”

“you go to your room.” you command, and rindou quickly shuffles away, shōchū bottle slipping from his hand and hitting the hardwood floor before he quickly picks it up again; followed by the sound of his door closing.

“now,” you hum, tapping your index against your chin, “preheat the oven at 170°C.” you say, and even though he barely understood half of what you just said, your boyfriend speeds towards the oven and starts turning the buttons, “and when you’re done, separate a yolk from the white, and keep it. then, sift me the flour.”

“am i gonna be doing everything?” ran complains, but quickly quiets down when you give him a glare.

how you managed to tame ran haitani might have to be considered a new wonder of the world, but in all honesty, it’s fun. he — somehow — behaves whenever you’re around, and whenever you need him to. and despite his childish antics, he’s actually quite sweet, especially when he wants to be.

“do you need the larger ones, or the smaller ones?” he asks, inspecting the eggs like he’s never seen one before.

“large, please.” you reply, stirring through your bubbling butter, “do you know how to properly separate them?” you add.

“i’ve seen you do it plenty of times.” he shrugs, and cracks the shell. you absolutely try your best not to laugh while he gags in silence — egg white slipping through his fingers into the sink — recoiling in absolute disgust.

sometimes you wonder how he can beat people bloody but he draws the line at a freaking egg.

against your initial expectations, ran actually does good — everything exactly as you ask him to. he mixes the dough, something he insisted on since he’s “the man of the house”;

(said louder than normal to elicit a ‘whateeeeeeeever’ from rindou)

and you don’t even have to ask him twice to pop the tray into the fridge for the cookie dough to chill. he even offers to put the cookies into the oven, all by himself, like the proud baker he’s become in the span on an hour.

and when you lay your head on his shoulder and say “wake me up in fifteen.”, accompanied by a small yawn, he feels like he’s on cloud nine.

except for the fact that he understands fifty instead of fiteen, so after fourty-five minutes you feel him nudge you gently.

“hey, sweetheart-babycakes-honeybunch?” he pokes your cheek sheepishly.

“hm?” you hum, eyes fluttering open to see him in his apron, gloves on his hands.

“i might have… accidentally..misunderstood you….” he says, “and…. kinda let you sleep for fifty minutes, and the cookies bake for about the same time… haha!” long, bouncy hair sways in front of your face while ran tries his best to look not afraid.

you glare at him.

“they’re still edible…!” he defends his creation, placing a burnt cookie in your mouth.

‘deep breaths.’ you tell yourself, ‘deep breaths.’

“NO THE FUCK THEY’RE NOT!”

looks like rindou’s good for something, too.

[alnair-jpg]

Olympics AU Info dump!

First, I am blown away by how much love the series is getting, thank you all so much! I do really enjoy all the comments and reactions in the tags. Know that they all delight me and the only reason I don’t reply to everything is because there are so many! But I read them all 💕

General questions:

Can you draw the designs or concepts? Write fanfic in this AU?

Yes of course! I’d love for you to tag me if you post them so I can see

Do they all know each other?

At first, I would say no- with the exception of Nico and Will (they’re developing a whole backstory in my head that I cannot and will not stop.). But they all meet in the Olympic Village after the opening ceremonies and quickly become friends. They all try their best to attend each other’s events. (Someone please tell me how Percabeth becomes a thing. Please. 🙏 )

Why didn’t Percy win gold?

Percy was an Olympic medalist in swimming before moving to diving. After competing in several swimming events and feeling like they were all just small variations of the same thing, he wanted more of a challenge. He chose diving to stay rooted in to the water, but to add a new dimension to his bodily awareness and control.

What’s Annabeth and Luke’s rivalry?

They most definitely trained together, and it was Luke’s skill that motivated Annabeth to aim for the Olympics. But, she wanted to compete for her home country, Greece, which Luke thought was just a shortcut since there was a clearer path to an Olympic team in a smaller country. Annabeth is constantly trying to prove to him that she would have made it to the top of the sport either way.

Also, apologies to the IRL fencers out there for the inconsistency. I know fencing is a gendered sport, and Annabeth’s gear/style are inconsistent, please forgive the oversight ☺️🫶

Volleyball?

The whole Hunters of Artemis are a volleyball team (that apparently has no country 😅). Thalia ends up the captain. When Reyna moves on from tennis they welcome her with open arms.

Rejected sports

Will as a runner. Canonically, he’s super fast, but just having him as a sprinter didn’t fit with his personality.

Will as a pole vaulter. Specifically the guy that lost because he was ‘blessed a little too much’ and knocked down the bar. I will not explain further.

Will as a gymnast. He was this || close to being a gymnast essentially modeled after Steven Nedoroscik, I had the sketch and everything. (I shared it here!) But when an anyonomous ask clued me into the sick medical team uniforms it all fell into place from there. (Thank you no-longer-anon @helyeahmangocheese !)

Percy in anything equestrian related. I see him not having the patience for all the formality of it all, but he definitely crashes Hazel’s shows and chats up all the competition (the horses.)

Annabeth on a sailing team. Also, related to that, Reyna on a sailing team. It was a fun idea, especially for Reyna and her history with pirates but ultimately it was really hard to capture in a few illustrations.

Nico in several winter sports. For consistency mostly. He could fit for a lot of winter sports - ice skating and snowboarding are my personal favorites.

Leo as a shooter. He would most definitely build his own gear and make tweaks to his weapon. Which would get him immediately disqualified.

Jason in discus. Jason as a basketball player. Golf is just… fitting. 😂

Other Characters I’ve been thinking about

(that may have art in the works… and may not actually be athletes!)

Clarisse

Meg

Grover

Rachel

Lester / Apollo

Mr. D

Chiron

[clairewritesandrambles]

Scott needily grabbing your ass when he’s cums when you’re on top… 🫢 those hands 😩

Anon. ANON. Please, I am not strong enough for this today.

He doesn't let you get on top often. He prefers seeing you underneath him, either fucking you into the mattress from behind or watching your cock drunk face while you're a mess for him. So when he does? Oh, it's even hotter to him than usual.

Note: I wrote this with a plus-sized reader in mind, because my body is the exact reason why I actually hate being on top in my own sex-capades.

This spiraled. I started thinking this would be like 100-200 words. It's almost 1300. I hope it's good.

CW: Spanking (once), breeding, talking of body insecurity, Scott being sweet for once?, Claire talks too much

"That's it, baby. Nice and slow. I want to see you shaking from how bad you want my cock." Scott was reclined against his stack of pillows, one arm obnoxiously tucked behind his head while the other hand rubbed soft circles into your thigh.

"Scott... Please just fuck me." Your voice was soft, unable to hold his hungry gaze as he took in your form straddling his thick thighs. You felt too exposed, even with your hands resting on his chest allowing you to obscure some of his view of your body.

Shaking his head, he took the hand under his head and used it to caress your hip. "You're not getting out of this that easily. I wanna see you fall apart on my cock before I even think about having you under me." Seeing the uncertain look in your eyes, he threaded his fingers through yours as a soft, reassuring smile touched his lips. "You can do it, beautiful."

"Scott," you whined, "please." You shifted uncomfortably on him, thoughts running through your head a thousand miles a minute. Thoughts of your face from his point of view, the look of your body, and the feel of your weight on his hips and chest. Would he be turned off by it? Would it feel good for him? Not for the first time, you worried about Scott seeing the flaws you saw in yourself and realizing what he has gotten himself into.

You're jostled from your thoughts by Scott readjusting himself to sit up to your level, the concern on his face indicating he'd recognized the look of overthinking on your face. He always teased that he knew you better than you knew yourself and in moments like these you believed him.

"Talk to me. What's wrong?" He bumped his forehead against yours, giving you no option but to look into his eyes while his strong arms held you close.

"I just..." You trailed off, considering playing it cool before you saw him raise an unimpressed eyebrow, already a step ahead of you. "It feels good, right? I'm not too heavy or anything?"

A large hand snakes its way to cup your jaw, making you instinctively lean into his warmth. You always loved it when he used his hands on you, seeing them flex as he held and touched you, and the warmth they provided.

"You always feel amazing, baby. I could spend the rest of my life with you on top of me, letting me see that beautiful body of yours, and I'd feel completely at peace." He whispered these words like a sacred promise, his thumb dragging on your bottom lip as he softly angled his head even closer to yours. "I am so fucking in love with all of you."

Your entire body heated at his words, your hands grabbing at his face to join his mouth with yours. His tongue licked into your mouth, stealing your sighs as one hand slipped around your back while the other trailed down your jaw to land at your throat.

"Now," he said, breaking the kiss, "ride my cock like a good girl." He leaned back as his hands encircled your hips, his hair falling into his lust-filled eyes.

"Yes, sir," you mocked, leaning forward to brush his hair back into place as you pressed one last kiss to his lips. Your hips lifted on his cock before you sat back, drawing a heavenly moan from his lips, the sound mixing with his words and touch to spur confidence into you.

His grip was bruising as you rode him, profanities mixing with praises as you bounced on his cock. You knew you'd wake up with marks tomorrow, Scott's fingers brushing over them with a satisfied sigh as you two dressed for the day. 

"You feel so fucking good, baby." He breathed, thumb brushing over your clit. Your pussy clenched in response, a strangled sound escaping Scott's mouth as he threw his head back in pleasure. "Come on, beautiful. Come for me, I wanna feel you fucking leaking down my cock, you can do it."

You didn't even have time to react before your orgasm washed over you, making you cry out his name and clench around him. He shot up to a half-sitting position, catching you as you collapsed on his shoulder. "Fuck, good girl. You're so fucking good for me."

With his hand behind him providing more leverage, Scott started thrusting into you, fucking himself even deeper into you than he already was. All pretenses were dropped as he desperately chased after his orgasm, his other hand gripping your ass as he pulled you down to keep as much of him inside of you as he could.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you feel so fucking good. So fucking tight, I can't wait to fill you." He mouthed at your neck, your fingers grabbing onto the hairs at the base of his neck as he sucked a mark onto a sweet spot. Praises fell freely from his mouth now, his grip on your ass tightening before crescendoing into a firm smack. "Gonna fill you and get you fucking pregnant."

His words drew out a sound that didn't even sound human, making you clench around him once again as a second orgasm rocketed up to settle as a tight ball in your stomach. You could hear his smirk as he continued: "You want that? Want me to pump you full of cum until you can't take anymore? You'd take more though, if I told you because you're so fucking good for me." You weren't even in control of your own body at this point, hips desperately meeting his thrusts. "God, I'd fucking love to see your body while you're pregnant. Nice and full of me, wearing little loose dresses around the house so I can fill you over and over again. Fuck I'll keep you nice and bred every day."

His words rip a second orgasm from  you, your body spasming as you kiss him again, all teeth and tongue through the rush of passion. More filthy words continued to escape against your lips, Scott losing coherency in the throes of his building orgasm. He fully straightens up, both hands grasping your hips to push you down onto him as his cock twitched and filled you. Deep grunts filled the air as he continued minuscule thrusts, the aftershocks of his orgasms continuing to go through him. As he came down, he mouthed at your jaw, dropping down your neck and chest before finalizing with a soft kiss in the valley of your breasts.

Satisfied, he leaned back against the pillows, more strewed on the bed than before. You moved to lay beside him, causing a discontent sound to come from his throat as he pulled you back down onto his slowly softening cock. "It's not going to stick if you get up right away. Gotta make sure it works." He spoke like he couldn't believe you'd think of getting off.

"How stupid of me." You rolled your eyes, taking in how good he looked with a sheen of sweat glistening off his skin and curling his hair.

He smirked knowingly at you, seeing you take in his appearance. But his words didn’t match the arrogant expression, instead reflecting only the soft look in his eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too. You're going soft, Miller." You taunted, reaching out once again to brush a hair off his face when he caught your wrist.

"Only for you," he conceded, pressing a soft kiss to your pulse point and pulling you to lay on his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

[cheesus-doodles]

How does Ran view Rindo’s best friend reader? And what’s his opinion on their relationship? I really like your work on Rindo and reader!

thank you for your kind words anon!

Masterlist | Rindo Tags

ㅤ‎

Ran thinks that the two of you together are adorable.

Yes sure, he knows damn well that both the both of them are delinquents who ruthlessly rule the back alleys of Roppongi with an iron fist, and that they are indeed supposed to be feared. But how was he supposed to think any other way when he sees Rindo with you?

Even though you clearly are the more easygoing and naive of your little pair with a tendency to go along with whatever it was that Rindo wanted, in Ran's eyes, its still his younger brother who comes off as the lost puppy trailing you looking for affection and attention, happy to let you lead him around by the nose. Yes, both of the Haitanis have both been in and out of juvie for various reasons, and Ran is perfectly aware of how Rindo is actually like during fights, having no qualm with breaking bones and putting faces through cement. Yet Ran still finds it hard to find any good reason to fear Rindo whenever you are arm-in-arm with him, chattering away with a complete lack of awareness to your surroundings. Ran, in fact, finds it rather amusing to occasionally poke his younger brother by linking arms with you just to get a reaction out of him and see him growl and threaten.

There was no way that Ran could possibly hate you, not with what you had done for Rindo. As the older of the two (not by much but still), Ran takes it upon himself to learn about and keep an eye out for Rindo, even if the younger Haitani dislikes his older brother's intrusions into his life.

And from what Ran can tell, Rindo has only changed for the better - as much as a delinquent can, at least. He knew that the day you picked Rindo over him was the day that something within Rindo had sparked (or snapped), and the younger Haitani had never let go of you since then, which you didn't seem to mind. Good thing either way, since with you came a sense of responsibility for Rindo that he never had, and Ran do so appreciate Rindo caring about something outside of picking fights for a change. Maybe you could get him to care about bills as well soon.

You did bring a breath of fresh air into both their lives, which the older of the brothers appreciates. With you came normal afternoons, calm evenings, and even peaceful nights; being a regular civilian with no ties to the gang life, you usually were the one to drag the two Haitani brothers around to your favourite cafes or the newest shops. Normal activities. Of course, the the only caveat to peace and normality being that you were within arm's length of Rindo, but that was easy enough to achieve.

‎

Ran does however wish from time to time that you were the slightest bit more self aware and less air-headed. The amount of stress you cause his younger brother on a day-to-day basis simply can't be healthy, but more importantly, it affects Ran as well. Don't get him wrong, this older delinquent was content to watch his younger brother run around like a headless chicken from time to time, but when it spills over into his life and causes Ran to lose his precious sleep is where he draws the line. Maybe with a few more brain cells, you would be able to learn which action would result in a explosive reaction from your best friend, but it has already been years and Ran isn't hopeful.

Rindo always anxiously checking in on you whenever he could as if you would vanish off the face of the earth the moment he wasn't looking (being lured into a van and kidnapped with candy was what Rindo swears would be enough to work on you, and Ran didn't doubt as much). And when he couldn't, Ran would have the chance to be amused by his younger brother compulsively opening and closing his phone every second just to make sure he wasn't missing any messages that you were sending him, before giving in after five minutes and simply calling you. This would quickly turn into a full blown cursing and swearing session when you fail to pick up within half a minute, followed by a panicked Rindo dropping everything to take off and hunt you down.

This usually happens during school time, when the younger of the Haitanis reluctantly let you attend class, only to storm your classroom later on, though meltdowns also tend to happen at night when you aren't sleeping over at their place. And the latter is when Ran gets awoken by all the scrambling, sometimes getting dragged up as well to look for you when Rindo happens to barge into your room on the rare occasion you wandered out for a midnight snack.

Despite Ran knowing that whatever Rindo has going on with you isn't quite normal, with Rindo being a tad too obsessed with knowing where you were and what you were doing at all times, the older delinquent doesn't care. As long as his younger brother was happy, Ran was content with playing along. And alas, until Ran can knock some common sense into that empty head of yours, he'll settle for tying you to a chair and hauling your ass back to Rindo.

Ah the woes of being an older brother.

[seeingivy]

so high school

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my gojo as taylor songs series

an: so sorry to the dream girl fans, had to expedite this one. taylor as gojo anon its your lucky day.

--

you were always under the impression that people like satoru gojo were perfect. 

flawless even. 

at times, you were even inclined to think that it was unfair; that some people were born with perfect looks, charming personalities, with intellect and intelligence to match. that they didn’t have to struggle. 

though it seems at the current moment, you stood corrected. because the so-called rumors that you had heard about satoru – that he always participated in class, that the teachers loved him – they might have still stood true, but the underlying implication that was always insinuated, that he was naturally intelligent, wasn't. 

it slightly cracked a sheen into the persona. you wondered if the girls in your english literature class would still giggle about him the way they did under their breaths if they knew. though knowing them, they probably would find some way to make his ineptness endearing. 

“this is the quadratic formula. did you understand this one when we went over it in class?” you ask. 

“yes.” satoru responds, seething. 

“okay, so if that’s the case, can you solve this problem for me?” you ask. 

you slide the paper over to satoru, eyes hopeful, as you watch a blank expression spread over his face.  it’s something that he does often, or at least in this setting from what you can tell of the total of two hours that have passed. 

the entire session seems to be a lot of talking into the air – with him opting to listen to you explain the question rather than try it on his own or admit where exactly it is that he needs help. 

you’re not surprised that he has an ego about getting forced to do remedial tutoring. 

“you know, listening to explain it over and over again won’t really help. you have to be able to struggle your way through the question on your own.” you respond. 

satoru gives you a shrug, before taking the paper into his own hands. 

“this is bullshit. and i get that i have to like know this shit because like…societies and shit before me knew it all but i don’t really understand the point. coach is just making me do this bullshit to keep me from playing more. 

you pinch your lips into a line. the algebra teacher and basketball coach, masamichi yagi, had, in confidence, told you the exact opposite. that satoru was bright and talented – on the road to where he wanted to go – but his grades were going to hold him back if he didn’t try harder. 

you can still hear his words in your head. 

he can be tough to work with when he’s frustrated, but just try to get through to him. he’s smart enough to do this. 

“i mean, the past societies and stuff learned it and emphasize passing it on because it’s actually really relevant to what you’re doing right now.” you respond. 

“yeah, maybe for nerd shit that you do, but it’s not really relevant to where i want to go.” satoru responds. 

you roll your eyes. he didn’t have to be irritating about it. 

“and where’s that?” you ask. 

and in a split second, you see satoru smile for the first time, this close. you weren’t a stranger to him at all – almost no one was with the way the basketball team's pictures were plastered all over the school in the yearbook – but you had never sat so close to him before, at least not in years. 

he a dimple on the right side and three freckles on the left. 

“i’m going to be a starting point guard on an nba basketball team.” satoru whispers. 

“you want to go pro?” you ask. 

“hell yeah. it’s all i’ve ever wanted since i was a kid.” 

you smile. you had heard it before – that he was electric on the court – but you didn’t realize that it was serious enough to pursue a basketball career. 

“i hate to break it to you, but the quadratic formula will be really useful to you in the future.” you respond. 

satoru scoffs. you take the board from him, drawing out the trajectory of the line, as he explains. 

“the reason that you use the quadratic formula is to find the solution of the equation. it can actually tell you more than you think – about where something needs to be in space, how fast it needs to move. if you’re standing all the way at the end of the basketball court, as far away from the net as possible, you’re not going to shoot right?” you ask. 

“obviously not.” satoru responds, sarcastically. 

“and you’re not going to try from right underneath the net?” 

“not if i want to get my ass beat by coach.” 

“so you know that you have to find the right spot to try from because it’ll give you your best possible shot at getting it into the basket. that’s how the equation works – figuring out the best possible spot to where your solution works.” 

satoru rolls his eyes at you. 

“so?” 

“so. you should think about it like that. don’t make it so abstract because it’s honestly way too boring to try to do it that way. finding applications will help you get through how difficult it is. if you want to get scouted for division one basketball, you have to have good grades.” 

satoru clicks his tongue in his cheek. 

“do you want me to do the quadratic formula in my head every time i make a shot?” 

you roll your eyes. 

“obviously not. but you have to admit that something like that would be helpful. and it is helpful, for people who do engineering, fly planes, all of that type of stuff. the application will just make it more interesting or relevant for you.” you respond. 

“how do you get through it?” he asks. 

you pause. 

“what?” 

“your application or whatever. to make you do it without getting bored.” 

you can feel your cheeks burn. 

“i actually don’t have one. i was just making that up.” 

satoru’s eyes widen. 

“you gave me a whole inspirational lecture with shit you pulled out of your ass?” satoru asks, eyes incredulous. 

you note that there’s a whisper of a smile on his face. 

“part of the job is motivating students! and i don’t have one because what i want to do actually does have no application to this..” you respond. 

satoru nods, before leaning forward on the desk, his cheek in the palm of his hand as he smiles.

“so what do you want to do?” he asks. 

“what?” 

“in the future. i’d love to hear whatever it is that doesn’t have a real life application to math, so i can use it as a backup plan if this whole basketball thing doesn’t work out.” 

you glare at him. 

“this is a tutoring session, not social hour.” 

“oh come on. you’re no fun. i promise i’ll actually try if you tell me.” satoru responds. 

you debate lying. 

you debate lying because you know this is how he is, because you’ve seen him do this since the second he had his growth spurt in the sixth grade. tell different girls that they’re pretty, flatter them by asking them personal questions, and flirt like it was the air he breathed. 

and it makes you mad – only because you were that girl in seventh grade. giggling to yourself about how he said your braids were pretty, asking about if you were going to the dance, and everything in between. 

the only reason that the girls who whispered about him in your english literature class annoy you is because they remind you of yourself. though that stopped dead in his tracks when you realized that it was something that he did with everyone. 

satoru’s eyes are expectant, waiting for an answer, and you convince yourself later that night that it’s why you gave in and told him what you’ve never told anyone before. not because he really was attractive and charming – but only because he told you his first.

“scout’s honor you won’t tell?” you ask. 

satoru signals with the little cross over his heart, before giving you a nod. 

“i want to be a singer.” you respond. 

satoru’s eyes widen. 

“you’d be great for that!” 

“what?” 

“oh, come on. you’ve been the lead of every musical since like freshman year. and i remember that song you wrote about cheerleaders or whatever in sixth grade, it was really good.”

you widen your eyes. 

“you remember that?” you ask. 

“what was it called? i just remember it was like cheer captain and bleachers or something like that. mei mei got really mad at the time because she thought you were talking about her.” 

you laugh. 

“it was called you belong with me. there was a lyric in it, she’s cheer captain and i’m on the bleachers. and she was right to be mad, because it was about her. i can’t even believe you remember that.” you respond. 

satoru smirks. 

“do you just think i’m some asshole? we’ve gone to the same school since preschool. i like to think we’re friends – that’s why i picked you to be my tutor.” satoru responds. 

you didn’t know that part. you had figured that yaga had just reached out to you because you were one of the top students in the class.  

“i don’t know. i didn’t realize you remembered all that! i kind of thought you didn’t even know my name.” you respond. 

satoru smiles. 

“your name is y/n. you used to wear pigtail braids in first grade with ribbons in them. you’re really smart and you always have been. you went to the dance in seventh grade with that robotics nerd nanami kento. and one time you picked me for heads up seven up in fourth grade.” satoru responds. 

you feel your cheeks warm up. 

at the heat of your infatuation with satoru, you had made your move in the only way that you knew how – by picking him in heads up seven up. 

once in a while, you would get to play the game in class – when it was someone's birthday or you were waiting for an assembly to start. the teacher would pick seven students and the rest would put their heads down at their desks, with their thumbs up. the people who were selected got to pick anyone they wanted in the room and tap on their head. if the people who were tapped were able to guess who picked them correctly, they got to switch in. 

you picked satoru. and he guessed correctly. 

“kind of had a big fat crush on you after that, if i’m not going to lie.” satoru jokes. 

“what? over the heads up seven up?” 

satoru nods. 

“you picked me out of a room of forty people. i was ready to propose marriage.” satoru jokes. 

you snort. 

“don’t say that. i totally would have said yes. i obviously picked you for a reason.” 

satoru looks up at you, eyes wide in something you can’t really place, before he grins at you brightly. 

“you bitch! we could have been childhood sweethearts at this point if you weren’t such a chicken.” 

“me? you should have made a move. the ball was in your court after i tapped on you in heads up seven up.” 

satoru sighs. 

“oh ten year old satoru. dropping the ball as always.” 

you roll your eyes, before sliding the worksheet back over to him. satoru groans, before sneaking the paper closer to him, and scratching his head as he looks at the paper. you lean over the tiniest bit of the desk, trying to make a mess of his scribbling, and making sure he’s on the right path. 

“why’d you pick that one as c?” you ask. 

“was i not supposed to?”

“i mean, no. i just wanted to figure out why so you don’t do it next time.” 

it goes like that for the rest of the hour. he tends to make silly mistakes or get hopelessly lost in the middle, but answers one question correctly by the end of the session – which he takes as a win. 

he says one thing that sticks in your mind before he leaves, with the same expectant eyes waiting for an answer as he hangs off of the door frame. 

“y/n?” 

“yeah?”

“when you become a big famous singer, will you invite me to your first show?” satoru asks. 

you smile, before looking down at your hands and twisting the silver rings on your fingers. 

“if that happens, sure. only if you invite me to the first game where you get to start.” you respond. 

satoru grins brightly, his eyes crinkling in the smile.  

“i'm betting on it. you and me.” 

--

three months into tutoring – and a few ice cream cones and movies here and there – satoru invites you to go to a party with him.

“you know, i’m not really into the party scene, satoru.” you respond. 

“but you’re into me, because i’m the love of your life, so you should come anyways.” 

satoru does that often. flirt, make jokes about how the two of you are meant to be, and everything in between. troy and gabriella because you’re a brainiac and he’s an athlete. the best love story, since you’ve liked each other from the start. 

but you know that he’s joking, because he does that with everyone. it doesn’t mean that it isn’t nice to pretend that it’s true sometimes. 

“look, mei mei has a bunch of drinks that her dad bought for the party, so you should just come and let loose.” 

you widen your eyes. 

“you know mei mei hates me right?” 

“it’s okay, being around her will give you more material to write for your songs. then you can sing it on your sold out world tour.” satoru jokes. 

he also does that often. talk about your dream like it’s most certainly going to come true. talk about how he’s going to be front row, how you’re going to be the half-time show for his championship games, and how fans will adore your love story and humble backgrounds in tutoring. 

“come on. i’ll pick you up at six, okay?” 

at six pm, satoru honks the horn of his shitty honda civic for six minutes before you oblige and give in. and the party goes well – with satoru sticking by your side, introducing you to his best friend suguru, and making you do shots with cheap tequila. 

it goes well until they start playing a mixed version of truth or dare and spin the bottle. you have two options when the bottle lands on you – kissing the person who span it or getting a truth or dare from them. 

it’s not your idea of fun. because while you would have easily opted for just being asked truthful questions all night, you realize that the stuff that they ask and insinuate is no joke. 

and after an hour, satoru kisses suguru – much to suguru’s dismay – and shoko gets dared to prank call her ex-girlfriend, utahime, which goes insanely horrible. it felt like intruding to listen to the two of them argue so openly on the phone. 

when mei mei spins the bottle, it lands on you. 

“please don’t try to kiss me.” 

you pinch your lips in a line. 

“i wasn’t planning on it. i’ll do truth.” 

she breaths a dramatic sigh of relief. you shoot satoru a smile, who shakes it off as plain joking, before you swallow hard. 

“fuck, marry, kill. satoru, suguru, and choso.” 

you feel your eyes widen. 

“was the game not kiss, marry, kill?” you respond. 

“if we’re in the sixth grade.” mei mei responds.

you fidget with your fingers in your lap, all three of them expectantly looking at you, as you feel your voice shake. 

“um. marry satoru. and then i guess…i’ll kill choso? and you know the last one.” you respond. 

“and i thought we were friends.” choso responds, voice dripping with sarcasm as the group of them snicker. 

“we can go do that right now, that’s not a problem. should we switch the game to seven minutes in heaven?” suguru responds, snickering over his shoulder with shoko who doesn’t entertain one second of his nonsense. 

satoru is the only one who doesn’t say anything. and they move on just as fast, spinning the bottle over and over again, while you overthink what just happened – how awkward you were being, how satoru slightly shifted away from you on the hard carpet, and how you very desperately want to go home. 

when you spin the bottle, you hope to god it doesn’t land on him. but it’s just your luck, because it points directly at suguru, who is now very smugly seated next to satoru. 

“are you going to kiss me?” suguru asks. 

you know that he’s joking. you know deep down that this is just something that makes them laugh, that deep down, you wouldn’t really have to if you didn’t want to, but that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing to be cornered like this. 

“no.” you respond. 

suguru feigns hurt. 

“why not?”

you look down at your hands. 

“i’ve never kissed anyone before.” 

“i can fix that.” suguru responds. 

you shake your head. and in the split second that passes, you can feel satoru’s hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you down the stairs and out the door, and leading you down the street to where he parked his car. 

he’s quiet as he rummages in his pockets for his key, angrily yanking on the door, as you stand on the pavement. 

“come on. we’re going home.” he responds, leaning his hands on the open door as he gestures for you to move to the passengers side. 

you shake your head, feeling hot burning tears in your eyes, as you look at him. 

“are you mad at me or something?” you ask. 

“what?” 

“i don’t know! i didn’t know what to say when mei mei asked me that. i don’t ever want to offend you or hurt your feelings or anything. and i wasn’t going to kiss your friend, you didn’t have to drag me out of there like that because i wasn’t even going to consider it.” 

satoru sighs, leaning his cheek against the window, as he gives you a halfhearted smile. 

“i’m not mad at you. or what you said.” 

“okay, because i thought that was the best option! marry is objectively the option you save for the best person in the options because that’s the person you have to kiss too. like when you marry someone you obviously have to kiss them and you’re not going to kill them, so you save it for the best.” you respond, rambling. 

satoru grins. 

“you think i’m the best option?” 

you groan. 

“shut up. i don’t even know choso. and suguru is…suguru. no.” 

satoru smiles, walking away from the open door, before reaching for your wrists and squeezing hard. 

“i’m not mad at you. i just got…annoyed back there for a second.” satoru murmurs. 

“at?” 

satoru tries to stifle his sigh. 

“i didn’t want suguru to kiss you.” satoru responds. 

“that makes two of us, genius.” you respond, earning you a laugh from him. 

“i wanted it to land on me. i know it’s just a game, but really. i wanted it to be me.” satoru murmurs. 

you laugh. 

“okay, satoru. truth or dare. i can give you one right now.” you respond, giving him a peachy smile as you wait for him to respond. 

but he doesn’t. because all you see in the dim lamplight of the street is satoru, frowning at you. his eyes are expectant, but not waiting for an answer this time – but for you to understand what he was trying to say. 

that he wanted you to kiss him. 

it takes you five seconds. five seconds of bright blue eyes to get it. 

“oh.” you respond. 

you pause. 

“really?” you whisper. 

satoru shrugs. almost like he’s embarrassed. 

you lift your hands, gesturing for him to wait right there, as you duck into the car from the door that he opened, and reach over the seats for the water bottle that you left in there a few days ago. 

“fuck, ow.” you whisper. 

“are you okay?” satoru asks, leaning closer to peek his head through the door. 

“yeah. yeah. just looking for something.” 

you find it underneath the seat – a wrinkled mess of plastic from the heat and three sips of lukewarm water left. you push out of the car, holding up the little bottle in between the two of you, to which satoru gives you a confused look. 

“i wouldn’t drink that.” satoru responds. 

you shake your head, before crouching to the ground, and placing the bottle on the ground. you gesture for satoru to join you, the two of you hunching over with your heads pressed together. and you reach forward and spin the bottle, only for it to point towards the car. 

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” you murmur. 

you readjust the bottle, manually pointing it towards satoru, as you look back up at him and give him a smile. 

“i don’t get it.” satoru responds. 

“it landed on you.” you respond. 

you watch satoru’s throat bob. 

“what?” he whispers. 

“i spun. it landed on you.” you respond. 

you swear he’s blushing in the moonlight. 

“y/n.”

“are you going to kiss me, satoru?” you whisper. 

it’s a split second before satoru reaches forward, pulling you up by the wrists, and yanking you into the backseat of his car to do just that. you can taste the remnants of the cheap tequila on his lips, the feeling warm in your chest as he smiles – no, laughs – into the kiss. 

in the seconds that pass, you lean your forehead against satoru’s, the two of you lightly panting as you catch your breaths – his hands warm on your waist and yours underneath his biceps. 

“did you really pick me out of everyone to be your math tutor?” you whisper. 

satoru laughs. 

“i knew what i wanted. and i got her.” satoru whispers. 

you get signed on to a record label a year later, two months before you graduate high school. it breaks your heart to leave him behind when the fall comes around. 

--

four years later 

“did the tour bus get stalled?” you ask. 

yuki looks up from her clipboard, switching off the little knob on her earpiece, as she takes the open seat next to you. 

“yeah. they’ve got it stuck inside the fencing outside the stadium, they’re just trying to push it through now.” yuki responds. 

“can’t we just walk out to the car?” you ask. 

yuki shakes her head again. 

“fans go out the same way. if you want to avoid getting mobbed on the way out here, it’s best to wait.” yuki responds. 

“if we have to wait, i’m just going to go lie down in the dressing room. come get me when it’s here?” you ask. 

yuki gives you a nod as you walk off to the other side of the stadium, the heels of your feet aching from the high stiletto boots you were wearing breaking halfway through the performance, as you shake through the messy tresses of your hair. 

“it was so nice to meet you, man. you said she was over this way?” 

you feel your eyes widen as you turn your head to the left – to the voice that you can recognize anywhere – and feel a dry patch in your throat. at the sight of satoru, an obscenely tall version of satoru, standing three feet away from you, talking to one of the members of your crew. 

you watch as satoru gives a polite smile and walks down the way towards your dressing room, already six whole paces in front of you from how long his legs are now, as you follow behind him, wiping away the darkness of smudged makeup under your eyes and brushing down the beads of your dress. 

it can’t be him, can it? you desperately wished there was something else to wear besides the bedazzled bodysuit you were wearing currently. 

you watch as satoru knocks on your door, expectantly waiting for a response at the door, as he wipes his hands against the sides of his pants. and you walk up right behind him, nervously clearing your throat, as he turns around and gives you a wide smile. 

“ah. right, hi! i was just looking for you. my name is…” 

“satoru.” you finish. 

there was no way he thought you actually forgot him, did he? 

satoru unclenches his shoulders, an immediate pang of relief spreading through his face, as he gives you a smile – a dimple on the right and three freckles on the left – as you feel a pang of hurt in your chest. 

he looks good. he looks even better than you left him, his striking white hair longer than it was before and the smallest amount of wrinkles around his eyes. 

“you remember.” satoru responds. 

you bite on the inside of your cheek, to stop yourself from smiling at him fully. 

“do you just think i’m some asshole? we’ve gone to the same school since preschool.” you respond. 

satoru rolls his eyes at the words – the same ones he said years prior – as he crosses his hands over his chest. and you can’t help but contain your excitement and lean forward, a gesture he returns as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and squeeze hard. 

“satoru, oh my fucking god. you should have told me you were coming.” you respond, leaning back as he reaches up to cup the side of your cheek and smile down at you. 

“how could i?” he asks. 

“you could text me. i have a phone.” you joke. 

satoru gives you a smile. 

“you know, when you change your number, that means i can’t text you.” 

you groan, smacking your palm against your forehead. 

“shit. i totally forgot. i was just so stressed out at the time because…” 

“because someone leaked your phone number and people were calling you at every hour of the day. i know.” 

you feel your chest pang, mainly at the fact that satoru was here – that he thought you forgot him and, in earnest, you really had forgotten him. that he was keeping tabs, that he knew everything that you were up to in the years since you separated – from your phone number getting leaked to the fact that you were performing tonight – and you couldn’t say the same. 

you frown. 

“right. i’m sorry, i meant to give it to you, i just…” 

“were going through a lot at the time. first world tour, six grammy nominations, and some friends who weren’t the greatest, i gathered.” 

you sigh. 

“you don’t know the half of it.” you respond. 

satoru shakes his head. 

“i mean, i do. but i’d love to hear it from you, if…if you ever wanted to tell me?” satoru asks. 

he has that same look in his eyes. timid, expectant eyes, shy and waiting for an answer. 

“of course i would want to tell you.” you whisper. 

satoru smiles. 

“good. i’d love to hear it.” satoru responds. 

it doesn’t feel real. it doesn’t feel real that four year ago satoru kissed you in the moonlight on a horribly paved street, that you had to leave him behind on that same cobblestone four years ago, and now he’s standing in front of you – the two of you the same as before, satoru the same, maybe even better, than the way you left him. 

“what are you doing here, satoru?” you ask. 

he smiles, before reaching into his pocket, and pulling out two little pieces of paper. he hands them over to you, as you read the fine print. 

July 19th 

San Francisco Golden State Warriors versus Los Angeles Lakers 

“i’m the starting point guard for an nba basketball team. i promised you an invite to my first game.” he murmurs. 

you press the tickets close to your chest, as you give him a nod. 

“y/n. the tour bus is here!” yuki screams at the end of the hall, frantic hands waving you over, as you turn back to satoru with a pinched look. 

he smiles in response. 

“don’t worry. i’ll see you in a week.” he responds. 

--

the week that follows is agonizing. 

you scavenge every corner of the internet to find out everything about him known to the public. where he lives, what he’s been up to, what team he plays for. 

he’s the starting point guard for the lakers, his hometown team for where he’s lived for the past four years. it seems that he had made his escape from the suburbs around the same time that you had, by playing division one basketball at the university of southern california, before getting a straight bid into the nba. 

he’s the youngest starting point guard in history. he’s broken his own all time record multiple times and was one of the youngest people to get signed on with the league. 

he likes to cook. suguru made his way onto the team with him. the two of them are a dynamic duo – famous for their hilarious interviews. he’s a father. he adopted two kids that lived in his neighborhood after their dad tragically passed away – megumi and tsumiki. 

and most of all, he’s the same as you left him. because in every interview you watch, you hear the same thing. 

“satoru, which artist is on your pregame playlist?” 

“if you could go to any concert, which would it be?” 

“who do you dream to collaborate with in the future?” 

it’s the same answer every time. 

y/n l/n, of course. 

you can hear his voice in your head already. 

i knew what i wanted. and i got her. 

--

the stadium is an overstimulating amount of loud – something exacerbated by how nervous you are – as you walk down the steps to the court, stomach erupting into a nervous mess of butterflies. 

satoru gifted you courtside seats to the opening game. and if he was going to follow suit like he always did, his kids would be sitting right next to you, dead center to watch him play. 

you catch sight of his white tufts of hair at the center of the court, fans in the stands excitedly pointing at him practicing free throws with his teammates, and snapping pictures. you see a group of girls in his jersey giggling at the side, zooming in to take photos and loudly talking about how hot he looked when he pushed his hair back with a headband during the game. 

girls on twitter loved the headband. it seemed that among most things, one thing never changed – how much people adored satoru. 

as you get closer to the lights, you can tell that people notice your attendance, hushed whispers and pointed fingers at you as you make your way down to the waxed court, your shoes clicking on the wood, as you walk over to your seat. 

you hope satoru doesn’t think it’s too forward that you decided to wear his jersey – with his last name spelled out on the back – as you take a seat. 

you wipe your sweaty hands on the pleats of your white tennis skirt, fiddling with the beaded bracelet on your hands, as one of satoru’s teammates eyes widen at the sight of you, before they all but run over to smack him across the shoulder. 

satoru looks over at you, giving you a soft smile, as he drops the ball and starts making strides over to where you’re sitting. you can feel your cheeks burning as you stand up, waiting for him to fully approach and he does the same thing he used to – wrapping his hands around your wrists as he leans forward, the smallest sheen of sweat on his forehead. 

“i’d hug you, but i’m a little gross right now, brainiac.” he murmurs. 

you shake your head. 

“no problem. these are nice seats.” 

he smiles. 

“i’d let you bring a friend, but i had to save –” 

“the other two tickets for your kids. megumi and tsumiki. they’re your neighbor's kids, who you adopted after their dad passed away.” you finish. 

satoru widens his eyes, before poking his tongue in the side of his cheek, and giving you a grin. 

“did your research, did you?” 

you shrug. 

“i did. but i’d love to hear about it, if you’ll tell me...” you respond. 

satoru laughs. 

“tsumiki is a really big fan. megumi doesn’t believe me when i said that you and i used to date, but he doesn’t believe anything i say anyways. they’re my favorite people in the world. and i love to make dad jokes.” satoru responds. 

you smile. of course he does. 

“i’m excited to meet them. i’ll give tsumiki a whole personal concert. signed cds or vinyls, whatever you want.” you state. 

“i’d withhold that for now. i think she’s going to have a heart attack from excitement all at once when she realizes daddy is dating her idol.” 

you feel like you’re in high school. you feel like it’s thursday after lunch and satoru’s walking you to class, making jokes about how the two of you are going to end up together. saying you’re troy and gabriella, about how no one will understand each other like you, about how you’re going to be at the halftime show performance at his championship game. 

“one last thing.” satoru states. 

“what’s that?” 

he reaches into the pocket of his shorts, procuring a set of blue earplugs and placing them in the palm of your hand. 

“i remember you hate how loud it can get. and this is going to be ten times worse than our shitty school gym, so wear these.” satoru states. 

you can’t help but frown at the thoughtfulness, looking back up at the bright smile he’s giving you, before squeezing his hand. satoru leans forward and pinches the softness of your cheek, before running back to the center of the court and practicing with the team. 

you can tell that some of them are jeering at him – giggling behind him as he shoots from different parts of the court, and you memorize the permanent smile that seems to be etched on to his face. suguru gives you a wave, before blowing you a kiss, which earns him a hard shove from satoru on the court. 

--

two months later, the two of you follow the same routine. satoru travels around the country for his games. you do the same for your tours – and whenever the cities overlap, which coincidentally every week they almost do – the two of you get dinner, eat breakfast. he insists on sleeping on his couch so you can take his bed, but you convince him to stay and just share.  

satoru says the overlap is fate. you tell him that he’s ridiculous. he says that it has to be fate – that you have to be meant to be, because you get back into it just as quickly as the two of you fell into it. 

satoru tells you that he’s proud of you. your fans post videos of him at your shows – bright smiles on his face as he sings along to all of the words of your songs. you decide to surprise him at the third show he comes to, by singing his favorite song – you belong with me. you both joke about how mei mei is pissed wherever she is. 

you tell satoru that you’re proud of him too. you watch every game courtside and really, are just in awe of him as you are when you were seventeen, blue paint splattered on your cheeks as you cheer him on – the muffled sounds of the crowd in your ears. you always carry three pairs of ear plugs, the extra two for megumi and tsumiki. 

you think you love him. you think you always will. you realize that no one was ever going to have your heart like he did. 

satoru has a home game in los angeles in late august. and his manager invites you to the afterparty two minutes away from the stadium, your transportation arranged with megumi and tsumiki. 

you think they’re adorable. you think satoru is the best dad. 

at a whopping seven years old, tsumiki reminds you of satoru. full of energy and light, she talks a hundred words per minute. the second you walk into the afterparty, you watch as she beelines to the big group of people, suguru quickly picking her up as she starts chattering loudly. 

megumi’s the opposite. a little shy for his age, you swear that he squeezes your hand harder as you stand at the doorway of the crowded room. and true to satoru’s words – he really didn’t believe that you and satoru used to be friends, let alone date, but states that it must be because satoru did some black magic on you. 

he makes jokes like that all the time. 

“you okay?” you ask. 

“yeah. have you seen my dad?” he asks. 

you frown. 

“no.” 

megumi gives you a halfhearted sigh. 

“okay.” 

megumi gets nervous. the only people he feels comfortable around are satoru and tsumiki. 

“you know, your dad never changes. he used to do this to me all the time too.” you state. 

“do what?” 

“drag me to parties. it’s not really my scene.” 

megumi smiles. 

“really?” 

you nod. 

“i wouldn’t even know most of the people there. one time he took me to the birthday party of a girl who literally hated me.” 

megumi laughs. 

“of course he did. some romantic he makes himself out to be. but really, i don’t care. i just hate waiting for tsumiki to come back.” megumi states. 

you smile in response. 

“well, how about we wait in the kitchen? there’ll be less people there.” 

you tug megumi along to the kitchen, quickly lifting him to sit on the counter, as you rummage through the fridge – trying to catch your breath from whatever alternate universe you’re living in. 

you’re in satoru’s house, with all of his friends. his kids seem to like you. he scored the most points out of the game, including the winning shot with six seconds left on the scoreboard. you have no idea where he is or what you’re doing right now or – 

“hi.” 

you slam the door shut, only to find suguru getou towering over you, with a smile on his face. 

“hi.” you respond, reaching up to tuck the hair behind your ears as you take a step back. 

“it’s been a long time, girl scout.” 

you try to stifle your sigh. 

“sure has been.” you respond. 

“satoru’s really keen on hiding you away.” 

you awkwardly nod, twisting the silver rings on your hands, as you give him a smile. 

“we’re just getting to know each other, that's all.” you respond. 

suguru widens his eyes. 

“what is there to find out? you’ve known each other since you were toddlers.” suguru responds. 

you shrug. 

“i don’t know. a lot of time has passed.” you murmur. 

suguru pinches his eyes shut, in frustration. 

“you’d think that would make the two of you more eager.” he responds. 

“what do you mean?” 

“if it were me, if i felt the way the two of you obviously do, then i’d get a move on. i’d be unable to contain it.” 

you glare. 

“you don’t know how we feel. and there’s a lot on the line here.” 

suguru crosses his arms over his chest. 

“do you like him?” suguru asks. 

“what?” 

“because he loves you. basketball has always been his dream, but even more so when he realized that it would be a reason to talk to you again. he’s listened to all of your albums the second they came out, seen you perform every time you came around these parts, and cursed the hell out of every movie star asshole who has talked shit about you publicly or hurt your feelings.” suguru responds. 

you sigh. 

“i’ll ask you again. do you like him? because he. loves. you. you make him so nervous that he won’t make the first move, just like he wouldn’t when you were sixteen.” 

“of course i do. i –” 

“do i need to threaten to kiss you again?” suguru asks. 

it’s right at that second that satoru parades into the kitchen and you can tell from the way that he yanks suguru back by the year that he only heard the very end of the conversation. 

“that joke doesn’t get any funnier the fifth time you say it.” satoru seethes. 

“get a move on before i do, dumbass.” suguru responds, giving satoru one last shove before walking off. 

you don’t have time to think about his words, but one thought crosses your mind – that suguru might have been so insistent at that party all of those years ago, because he knew it would push something forward between the two of you. 

he sure had a strange way of being a wingman. 

at the sight of satoru, megumi’s holding his little hands out – something satoru obliges to as he picks him up – before turning over to face you. 

“do you want me to kill him?” he asks. 

you smile. 

“i know he’s just kidding.” you respond. 

satoru rolls his eyes. 

“i was kind of hoping you would say yes.” 

“did you used to date suguru too?” megumi asks. 

you widen your eyes. 

“absolutely not. just your dad, no one else.” you respond. 

“god megumi, that’s not just something that you can ask someone.” tsumiki murmurs, padding into the kitchen with pink cheeks, as she wraps her arm around your leg. 

you return the affection, reaching down to push her bangs away from her forehead, as you look back at satoru. he stares a little too long, before looking over at megumi and whispering. 

“can you and tsumiki take a walk real quick?” 

megumi gives him a nod as satoru sets him down, the two of them walking away hand in hand to the other side of the room, as satoru turns back to you, reaching forward to wrap his hands around your wrists. 

“hey.” he whispers. 

“hi.” you whisper back. 

he leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. 

“did you enjoy the game?” 

“sure did. tsumiki and i shared rainbow airheads. and megumi gave me a really big hug after you won, which almost made me cry.” you respond. 

“i’ll say. i almost cried when i saw all three of you hugging on the jumbotron.” 

you lean forward, pressing yourself against his chest, as you link your arms together behind his back. you can hear suguru’s words racing through your mind – if it were me i wouldn’t be able to contain it, do you like him? because he loves you – and it makes your skin burn. 

“hey. you okay?” satoru asks. 

you say the only thing that you can think of. 

“yeah. i’m just…really happy..” you whisper. 

satoru pinches your cheek.

“me too.” he responds.  

“ever since i left, my life has changed, so drastically, so quickly. i went from being a girl from a small suburb in new york to being someone that…that a lot of people knew about. wanted to know about. sometimes this stuff makes me feel like i’m not really that person anymore.” 

you pause. 

“but every time you look at me i can…i do feel like that again. like someone who was in high school, who hated school dances, and did the morning announcements. someone who loved you. who was with you.” 

you sigh. 

“no one’s ever had me like you. i don’t know if you’re joking when you say it, but it really is fate. you really are….are my soulmate or my invisible string or whatever. you…you’re it for me.” 

satoru lets go of your wrists, before reaching for the closest cupboard and reaching for a bottle, and placing it flat on the floor. he’s crouching on his knees, your chest so full of love you can barely stomach it, as he gestures for you to crouch on the floor close to him, his cheeks pink in the light. 

you watch as he spins the bottle, only for it to miss and land on the fridge. 

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me...” satoru responds. 

he reaches forward, twisting the bottle so it faces you, before looking at you expectantly. the same way he looked every other time – waiting for you to tell him what your dream job was, waiting for you to kiss him, and now waiting for you to confess for a second time. 

“are you going to kiss me, y/n?” 

you whisper it against his lips. 

“guess what?” 

“what?” 

“i knew what i wanted. and i got him.” 

--

an: our very first ttpd gojo as taylor <3 this post was sponsored by @yuutito, @neptuneblue, and @um-no-ok through my participation in fics for gaza! thank you so much for donating - I hope you liked the piece!!! i went a little bit over the promised wordcount as I started writing, but left it as is to be posted since we met the goal. a reminder that i'm still taking submissions for my wips (i'll be putting a new one up) and for requests!

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