#as one of the owners of the team?? practically for FREE?!
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the love of my entire life
#valtteri filppula#no one cares but i'm still gonna rant about this because you don't understanddddd#he's objectively one of the most succesful finnish hockey players. no not just in my biased opinion he really is!!#no other finn has won the triple gold (the stanley cup + olympic gold + world championships gold)#in the latter two he was also the captain of the team 😭#1000+ games played in the NHL#he's also won the swiss league and the CHL#he could have retired. moved to florida and bathe in his money#but what does he do? comes back to play in his home team 19 years after he left#(if we don't count the few games he played here in the NHL lock-out season 2012-13 before he got injured)#in his home team that currently does not even play in the top division??#as one of the owners of the team?? practically for FREE?!#because he wants to give back to his team and help them back to the top division 😭#i mean. what kinda person does that?? 😭😭😭😭😭#i'm bawling at how he walked in the locker room for the first time and introduced himself to everyone (with his nickname!!)#as if all them didn't know exactly who he was. come on he's a living legend??#he said he wants to be treated like everyone else in the team. they're just some boys#and he's won pretty much everything you can win in this sport#look how stark the locker room is in comparison to what he got used to in the fucking NHL and the swiss league 😭#at 40 years of age he's gonna be sitting in the same bus with these youngsters through the darkest of finland's winter#again i cannot emphasize enough that he could have retired to e.g. florida where he used to play for many years#(and where i think his wife is from? but i'm not sure so don't quote me on that)#he's so humble so smart so polite so friendly and on top of that he is handsome as fuck 😭😭😭😭😭😭#i've never had the chance to meet him but this season i really hope i can. although i'll probably cry loads and make an idiot out of myself#i was bawling my eyes off just watching him skate on the ice in his first match this season. it all felt so surreal. he's home again 😭#i've loved him for a thousand years (or just 20. but it feels like thousand years)#i'll love him for a thousand more 💙
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Lina Khan’s future is the future of the Democratic Party — and America
On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.
On the one hand, the anti-monopoly movement has a future no matter who wins the 2024 election – that's true even if Kamala Harris wins but heeds the calls from billionaire donors to fire Lina Khan and her fellow trustbusters.
In part, that's because US antitrust laws have broad "private rights of action" that allow individuals and companies to sue one another for monopolistic conduct, even if top government officials are turning a blind eye. It's true that from the Reagan era to the Biden era, these private suits were few and far between, and the cases that were brought often died in a federal courtroom. But the past four years has seen a resurgence of antitrust rage that runs from left to right, and from individuals to the C-suites of big companies, driving a wave of private cases that are prevailing in the courts, upending the pro-monopoly precedents that billionaires procured by offering free "continuing education" antitrust training to 40% of the Federal judiciary:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/13/post-bork-era/#manne-down
It's amazing to see the DoJ racking up huge wins against Google's monopolistic conduct, sure, but first blood went to Epic, who won a historic victory over Google in federal court six months before the DoJ's win, which led to the court ordering Google to open up its app store:
https://www.theverge.com/policy/2024/10/7/24243316/epic-google-permanent-injunction-ruling-third-party-stores
Google's 30% App Tax is a giant drag on all kinds of sectors, as is its veto over which software Android users get to see, so Epic's win is going to dramatically alter the situation for all kinds of activities, from beleaguered indie game devs:
https://antiidlereborn.com/news/
To the entire news sector:
https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-must-open-app-stores
Private antitrust cases have attracted some very surprising plaintiffs, like Michael Jordan, whose long policy of apoliticism crumbled once he bought a NASCAR team and lived through the monopoly abuses of sports leagues as an owner, not a player:
https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/michael-jordan-anti-monopolist
A much weirder and more unlikely antitrust plaintiff than Michael Jordan is Google, the perennial antitrust defendant. Google has brought a complaint against Microsoft in the EU, based on Microsoft's extremely ugly monopolistic cloud business:
https://www.reuters.com/technology/google-files-complaint-eu-over-microsoft-cloud-practices-2024-09-25/
Google's choice of venue here highlights another reason to think that the antitrust surge will continue irrespective of US politics: antitrust is global. Antitrust fervor has seized governments from the UK to the EU to South Korea to Japan. All of those countries have extremely similar antitrust laws, because they all had their statute books overhauled by US technocrats as part of the Marshall Plan, so they have the same statutory tools as the American trustbusters who dismantled Standard Oil and AT&T, and who are making ready to shatter Google into several competing businesses:
https://www.theverge.com/2024/10/8/24265832/google-search-antitrust-remedies-framework-android-chrome-play
Antitrust fever has spread to Canada, Australia, and even China, where the Cyberspace Directive bans Chinese tech giants from breaking interoperability to freeze out Chinese startups. Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops, and the cost of 40 years of pro-monopoly can't be ignored. Monopolies make the whole world more brittle, even as the cost of that brittleness mounts. It's hard to pretend monopolies are fine when a single hurricane can wipe out the entire country's supply of IV fluid – again:
https://prospect.org/health/2024-10-11-cant-believe-im-writing-about-iv-fluid-again/
What's more, the conduct of global monopolists is the same in every country where they have taken hold, which means that trustbusters in the EU can use the UK Digital Markets Unit's report on the mobile app market as a roadmap for their enforcement actions against Apple:
https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/media/63f61bc0d3bf7f62e8c34a02/Mobile_Ecosystems_Final_Report_amended_2.pdf
And then the South Korean and Japanese trustbusters can translate the court documents from the EU's enforcement action and use them to score victories over Apple in their own courts:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/10/an-injury-to-one/#is-an-injury-to-all
So on the one hand, the trustbusting wave will continue erode the foundations of global monopolies, no matter what happens after this election. But on the other hand, if Harris wins and then fires Biden's top trustbusters to appease her billionaire donors, things are going to get ugly.
A new, excellent long-form Bloomberg article by Josh Eidelson and Max Chafkin gives a sense of the battle raging just below the surface of the Democratic Power, built around a superb interview with Khan herself:
https://www.bloomberg.com/news/features/2024-10-09/lina-khan-on-a-second-ftc-term-ai-price-gouging-data-privacy
The article begins with a litany of tech billionaires who've gone an all-out, public assault on Khan's leadership – billionaires who stand to personally lose hundreds of millions of dollars from her agency's principled, vital antitrust work, but who cloak their objection to Khan in rhetoric about defending the American economy. In public, some of these billionaires are icily polite, but many of them degenerate into frothing, toddler-grade name-calling, like IAB's Barry Diller, who called her a "dope" and Musk lickspittle Jason Calacanis, who called her an all-caps COMMUNIST and a LUNATIC.
The overall vibe from these wreckers? "How dare the FTC do things?!"
And you know, they have a point. For decades, the FTC was – in the quoted words of Tim Wu – "a very hardworking agency that did nothing." This was the period when the FTC targeted low-level scammers while turning a blind eye to the monsters that were devouring the US economy. In part, that was because the FTC had been starved of budget, trapping them in a cycle of racking up easy, largely pointless "wins" against penny-ante grifters to justify their existence, but never to the extent that Congress would apportion them the funds to tackle the really serious cases (if this sounds familiar, it's also the what happened during the long period when the IRS chased middle class taxpayers over minor filing errors, while ignoring the billionaires and giant corporations that engaged in 7- and 8-figure tax scams).
But the FTC wasn't merely underfunded: it was timid. The FTC has extremely broad enforcement and rulemaking powers, which most sat dormant during the neoliberal era:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge
The Biden administration didn't merely increase the FTC's funding: in choosing Khan to helm the organization, they brought onboard a skilled technician, who was both well-versed in the extensive but unused powers of the agency and determined to use them:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff
But Khan's didn't just rely on technical chops and resources to begin the de-olicharchification of the US economy: she built a three-legged stool, whose third leg is narrative. Khan's signature is her in-person and remote "listening tours," where workers who've been harmed by corporate power get to tell their stories. Bloomberg recounts the story of Deborah Brantley, who was sexually harassed and threatened by her bosses at Kavasutra North Palm Beach. Brantley's bosses touched her inappropriately and "joked" about drugging her and raping her so she "won’t be such a bitch and then maybe people would like you more."
When Brantley finally quit and took a job bartending at a different business, Kavasutra sued her over her noncompete clause, alleging an "irreparable injury" sustained by having one of their former employees working at another business, seeking damages and fees.
The vast majority of the 30 million American workers who labor under noncompetes are like Brantley, low-waged service workers, especially at fast-food restaurants (so Wendy's franchisees can stop minimum wage cashiers from earning $0.25/hour more flipping burgers at a nearby McDonald's). The donor-class indenturers who defend noncompetes claim that noncompetes are necessary to protect "innovative" businesses from losing their "IP." But of course, the one state where no workers are subject to noncompetes is California, which bans them outright – the state that is also home to Silicon Valley, an IP-heave industry that the same billionaires laud for its innovations.
After that listening tour, Khan's FTC banned noncompetes nationwide:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/25/capri-v-tapestry/#aiming-at-dollars-not-men
Only to have a federal judge in Texas throw out their ban, a move that will see $300b/year transfered from workers to shareholders, and block the formation of 8,500 new US businesses every year:
https://www.npr.org/2024/08/21/g-s1-18376/federal-judge-tosses-ftc-noncompetes-ban
Notwithstanding court victories like Epic v Google and DoJ v Google, America's oligarchs have the courts on their side, thanks to decades of court-packing planned by the Federalist Society and executed by Senate Republicans and Reagan, Bush I, Bush II, and Trump. Khan understands this; she told Bloomberg that she's a "close student" of the tactics Reagan used to transform American society, admiring his effectiveness while hating his results. Like other transformative presidents, good and bad, Reagan had to fight the judiciary and entrenched institutions (as did FDR and Lincoln). Erasing Reagan's legacy is a long-term project, a battle of inches that will involve mustering broad political support for the cause of a freer, more equal America.
Neither Biden nor Khan are responsible for the groundswell of US – and global – movement to euthanize our rentier overlords. This is a moment whose time has come; a fact demonstrated by the tens of thousands of working Americans who filled the FTC's noncompete docket with outraged comments. People understand that corporate looters – not "the economy" or "the forces of history" – are the reason that the businesses where they worked and shopped were destroyed by private equity goons who amassed intergenerational, dynastic fortunes by strip-mining the real economy and leaving behind rubble.
Like the billionaires publicly demanding that Harris fire Khan, private equity bosses can't stop making tone-deaf, guillotine-conjuring pronouncements about their own virtue and the righteousness of their businesses. They don't just want to destroy the world - they want to be praised for it:/p>
"Private equity’s been a great thing for America" -Stephen Pagliuca, co-chairman of Bain Capital;
"We are taught to judge the success of a society by how it deals with the least able, most vulnerable members of that society. Shouldn’t we judge a society by how they treat the most successful? Do we vilify, tax, expropriate and condemn those who have succeeded, or do we celebrate economic success as the engine that propels our society toward greater collective well-being?" -Marc Rowan, CEO of Apollo
"Achieve life-changing money and power," -Sachin Khajuria, former partner at Apollo
Meanwhile, the "buy, strip and flip" model continues to chew its way through America. When PE buys up all the treatment centers for kids with behavioral problems, they hack away at staffing and oversight, turning them into nightmares where kids are routinely abused, raped and murdered:
https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/they-told-me-it-was-going-be-good-place-allega-tions-n987176
When PE buys up nursing homes, the same thing happens, with elderly residents left to sit in their own excrement and then die:
https://www.politico.com/news/magazine/2023/12/24/nursing-homes-private-equity-fraud-00132001
Writing in The Guardian, Alex Blasdel lays out the case for private equity as a kind of virus that infects economies, parasitically draining them of not just the capacity to provide goods and services, but also of the ability to govern themselves, as politicians and regulators are captured by the unfathomable sums that PE flushes into the political process:
https://www.theguardian.com/business/2024/oct/10/slash-and-burn-is-private-equity-out-of-control
Now, the average worker who's just lost their job may not understand "divi recaps" or "2-and-20" or "carried interest tax loopholes," but they do understand that something is deeply rotten in the world today.
What happens to that understanding is a matter of politics. The Republicans – firmly affiliated with, and beloved of, the wreckers – have chosen an easy path to capitalizing on the rising rage. All they need to do is convince the public that the system is irredeemably corrupt and that the government can't possibly fix anything (hence Reagan's asinine "joke": "the nine most terrifying words in the English language are: 'I'm from the Government, and I'm here to help'").
This is a very canny strategy. If you are the party of "governments are intrinsically corrupt and incompetent," then governing corruptly and incompetently proves your point. The GOP strategy is to create a nation of enraged nihilists who don't even imagine that the government could do something to hold their bosses to account – not for labor abuses, not for pollution, not for wage theft or bribery.
The fact that successive neoliberal governments – including Democratic administrations – acted time and again to bear out this hypothesis makes it easy for this kind of nihilism to take hold.
Far-right conspiracies about pharma bosses colluding with corrupt FDA officials to poison us with vaccines for profit owe their success to the lived experience of millions of Americans who lost loved ones to a conspiracy between pharma bosses and corrupt officials to poison us with opioids.
Unhinged beliefs that "they" caused the hurricanes tearing through Florida and Georgia and that Kamala Harris is capping compensation to people who lost their homes are only credible because of murderous Republican fumble during Katrina; and the larcenous collusion of Democrats to help banks steal Americans' homes during the foreclosure crisis, when Obama took Tim Geithner's advice to "foam the runway" with the mortgages of everyday Americans who'd been cheated by their banks:
https://www.salon.com/2014/05/14/this_man_made_millions_suffer_tim_geithners_sorry_legacy_on_housing/
If Harris gives in to billionaire donors and fires Khan and her fellow trustbusters, paving the way for more looting and scamming, the result will be more nihilism, which is to say, more electoral victories for the GOP. The "government can't do anything" party already exists. There are no votes to be gained by billing yourself as the "we also think governments can't do anything" party.
In other words, a world where Khan doesn't run the FTC is a world where antitrust continues to gain ground, but without taking Democrats with it. It's a world where nihilism wins.
There's factions of the Democratic Party who understand this. AOC warned party leaders that, "Anyone goes near Lina Khan and there will be an out and out brawl":
https://twitter.com/AOC/status/1844034727935988155
And Bernie Sanders called her "the best FTC Chair in modern history":
https://twitter.com/SenSanders/status/1843733298960576652
In other words: Lina Khan as a posse.
Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/11/democracys-antitrust-paradox/#there-will-be-an-out-and-out-brawl
#pluralistic#ftc#lina khan#democratic party#elections#kamala harris#billionaires#trustbusting#competition#labor#noncompetes#silicon valley#aoc
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Cherry
summary: after putting out a small kitchen fire at a bar, the bar owner offers buck a night of fun. when presented with his girls, he chooses you.
word count: 4.5k (oops)
a/n: this idea came to me in a dream after i read @spidermans-l-o-v-e-r ‘s glory hole fic, and i wrote this in one sitting. i have no idea what came over me but i was feral for this idea. thank you for posting your fic, it was delicious and i loved it<33 i had no intention of posting something today because i’ve already posted 2 days in a row and have more coming the next 2 days, but i felt the need to share this immediately after i finished. enjoy<3
warnings: smut, big titty reader (self indulgent, sue me<3), mentions of abuse (nothing graphic), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader
MDNI- 18+ Only!
Buck has absolutely no idea how he got here; how he got messed up in all of this. He’s standing in the large back room of an old bar in downtown LA, with ten women presented in front of him. His choice.
Earlier in the week, his team responded to a call here. When they finally put out the small fire in the kitchen, the owner had told him to come back later in the week for free drinks and a good time, and who is he to turn down free drinks?
He wasn’t expecting this, though; ten of the owner’s “girls” standing in a line in front of him. “Free for the night,” the owner had said.
His eyes had immediately been drawn to you when you walked in with the rest of the line. You were much different than the rest of the girls. While the rest had their heads up, giving him bright, flirty smiles, your face remained angled towards the floor. When they all stopped and faced him, you kept your head down; he could hardly even see your face.
Even so, he was drawn to your plush figure.
While the rest of the girls were slimmer, showing off lots of skin, you had opted for a pink long sleeve shirt. You were wearing a black miniskirt, and some god awful heels almost identical to the rest of the girls that the owner of the bar had told Buck “really shows them off,” and a pink long sleeve shirt low-cut enough that Buck could see your large tits practically spilling out of your bra.
He almost feels bad standing here. He’s never done anything like this before, but who is he to turn down a warm cunt for the night?
“So, who will it be?” the owner asks, a smirk on his face as he watches Buck taking in all his girls.
Buck begins to walk towards the girls, hands behind his back as his eyes travel the length of the line up. Then, he stops in front of you, but once again, you keep your head down. Surely he wants one of the girls beside you.
You’re surprised when he uses a finger to gently raise your gaze up to his, and your knees almost buckle. It’s the softest anyone’s touched you in months.
“You wanna come with me, sweetheart?” he asks you in a soft voice, and you swallow quickly before nodding your head. He’s gorgeous.
“Yes.”
He grins, then takes your hand and pulls you back towards where he was previously standing beside the owner of the bar. He gives him a smile while you stand almost behind him, eyes trained on his broad shoulders and muscular back.
“You sure you want that one?” the owner says, and you blink slowly, trying to fight back tears threatening to spill as you force your eyes down to the floor again. He’s always treated you like this, but you don’t have any other choice but to stay.
“Positive.” Buck replies smugly, fighting the urge to glare at the man’s condescending tone. He looks over his shoulder at you, and all he sees is a sweet little thing that he’s not sure he’s going to want to let go at the end of the night. How could the other man see anything different?
With that, the owner of the bar waves a hand, and the rest of the girls file out and go back out to the main area of the bar to pick up men, and Buck leads you out of the bar with his hand on the small of your back.
“Are you okay?” he asks once you’re out on the street and walking towards his car parked down the street. You furrow your brows, lifting your head to meet his gaze.
“What do you mean?” He tilts his head, raising a brow before his eyes move down to your feet. You’re almost limping in the heels you’re wearing, but they’re what you have to wear, so you shake your head quickly.
“Oh, I’m fine. Part of the uniform.” you try to joke, but he isn’t having it. It almost pains him to see you in pain. In one swift movement, he pulls you towards him and lifts you into his arms, one arm under your legs and the other behind your back. You squeal, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your throat. He looks strong, sure, but you didn’t think he'd actually be able to lift you. You didn’t think he’d actually do it, either. It’s not like he has to be nice to you.
Once you’re in the car, he drives you to a hotel not too far from the bar. He doesn’t want to scare you by taking you to his house; as much as he wants to see you sprawled out on his bed, so he opts for the nicest hotel close to the bar.
Your eyes widen in surprise when you see the hotel he’s chosen. You’re not used to anything like this. You’re used to dingy motels, or the bathroom in the bar, or if you’re lucky, the backseat of a nice car. But never this.
He keeps an arm around your waist as he pays for the room, and he kisses the back of your hand when he grabs it to lead you up to the 3rd floor, keeping your hand firmly in his the whole way up.
When you get to the room and the door is firmly closed behind you, Buck steps further into the room, setting the key card, his wallet, and his keys on the dresser. You follow behind him slowly, then in one swift movement, lift your shirt over your head. You know what you’re here for, as much as his sweet actions make butterflies swarm your tummy.
His eyes widen when he turns back to you, his eyes darting down to steal a quick glance at your large tits practically teasing him in your see through lace bra. He closes the distance between you, grabbing your hands as you let go of your shirt and let it fall to the ground.
“Hey, no, wait. If it’s okay, I wanna talk first. Haven’t really done this before.” he tells you, his admission coming out a little softer than the beginning of his sentence. He feels a little weird about what he’s walked himself into, and he wants to know more about you before splitting you open on his cock.
“Sorry.” you tell him sheepishly. You bite your lip as you watch him shake his head.
“Don’t apologize, baby. Here, let’s get you out of those shoes first, yeah?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he gets down on one knee, kneeling in front of you and placing his hand on the back of your calf to urge you to raise your leg. You hold one of his shoulders as you lift one foot off the grounf, feeling your whole body heat up as you watch him take one shoe off, and then the other.
You let out a sigh when your feet hit the soft carpet, thankful to finally be out of those damn shoes. He smiles when he stands up, noticing that you’ve already relaxed a little more.
“What’s your name?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper. You give him a sheepish smile, shrugging as your eyes move down to your chest.
“He calls me Cherry.” you murmur when you look back up at him, a hint of a frown on your pretty lips. He tilts his head to the side, and he almost laughs at the name, knowing exactly where it came from.
His eyes glance back down at your heavy tits, getting a better look now that he’s standing directly in front of you. He can see the beginning of a cherry tattoo beneath your bra, right in the valley of your breasts, and he sighs. From the way the owner of the bar was treating you earlier, he’s half convinced that he’s made you get that tattoo, and you’re not very happy about the nickname.
“What’s your real name?” he asks softly, eyes darting back up to meet yours. His hand moves to your cheek, caressing it gently, and you chew the inside of your cheek nervously as you hesitate. No names. That was one of the first rules he had given you. But even so, your name is on the tip of your tongue, threatening to fall from your lips.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to tell me, it just doesn’t seem like you like that nickname very much.” he urges you gently. His eyes search yours as you stay quiet for a moment, and then, you tell him. Your voice is barely audible, but he heard you loud and clear, and a smile breaks onto his face.
He repeats it, and you nod, a small smile forming on your face.
With the way he’s looking at you, you can’t help but feel admired, and beautiful. That’s why you’re not surprised when the next words that tumble from your mouth are “kiss me, please.”
He smirks before he brings your lips to his, a hand cupping your jaw as he tilts your head up into the kiss and the other on your plush hip. His thumb gently moves across your hip as he kisses you gently, and while his grip is firm on your jaw, his kiss is soft and tender, which makes your head spin.
As his tongue pushes past your lips and begins to explore your mouth, you kiss him harder, teeth clicking together and breathing becoming heavy as both of your hands move to his cheeks. When one of his hands slides down to your ass and squeezes, it’s like a switch flips, and you’re quick to flip him around and walk him back towards the bed.
You break the kiss as you push him to sit on the edge of the bed, and then you kneel in front of him, hands going to his pants as you keep your eyes on his. Another rule: make sure the customer is pleased. When you’re at a motel and it’s clear he’s in no rush, use your mouth first, and then let him fuck you.
You’re surprised when his hands come out to stop you from undoing his belt, and your eyes are wide as you look up at his face.
“Whoa, wait a minute. What are you doing?” he asks, and you furrow your brows. He’s surprised by your sudden switch up, and while his cock twitches at the thought of your mouth around him, he sees the way your face changed. He notices the way your eyes almost become glossed over and unfocused, almost as if you’re on autopilot, like this is merely a job for you. Of course, he knows it is, but he doesn’t want you to wrap your lips around his cock unless you actually want to.
“Isn’t this what you want?” you ask, a little unsure. You’re feeling a little self conscious now. You’ve never had a man turn something like this down, and your insecurities from earlier about why he would choose you enter your mind again.
“Honestly, all I want right now is to taste you.” he tells you earnestly, and you look down, trying to hide the smile on your face. “But first, I want to ask you a question.”
You look back up at him, nodding slowly. He can see the insecurities inside of you, they’re practically written across your face. It’s the same look you had back at the bar.
“How long have you been doing this?” he asks. He hopes he hasn’t crossed a line, but with the way you don’t look away, he’s sure he hasn’t. Of course the answer doesn’t really matter to him, he’s just curious.
“A few weeks.” you reply with a shrug. He smiles, caressing your cheek with his thumb.
“And how many times has someone picked one of the other girls over you?” He can’t fathom someone picking another girl over the soft, sweet thing kneeling in front of him. He had his pick, for Christ sake; all of the girls looked eager to leave with him, and he still picked you.
“A couple.” you admit sheepishly, feeling embarrassed at your admission. It’s happened more than a couple times, but you don’t want to admit that to him. Most of the time, it seems like the men want one of the more experienced girls, or one that’s easier to throw around.
“Can’t imagine why. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” he murmurs, eyes studying your face as a smile erupts on your face. “Can I taste you now? Please?”
You nod, and that’s all it takes for Buck to stand up, help you to your feet and then push you onto the bed, in the same position you just had him in.
He yanks your skirt and panties down in one go as you lift your hips off the bed, and then he puts a large hand over your soft tummy, pushing you to lay back.
He spreads your legs enough for his broad shoulders to fit between, and then he begins placing feather-light kisses to your inner thighs as his arms loop around your legs to hold you in place.
You watch him with a heaving chest as his lips make their way to your dripping core, sitting up on your elbows to ensure you have a view of him between your thick thighs.
As soon as he makes eye contact with you, he gives you a smirk, then dives into your cunt, licking and sucking greedily as he lets out a low groan.
“Taste so sweet, baby. Like heaven.” he moans against your folds, although you can barely hear him. You fall back down onto your back, your hands gripping the sheets as his tongue darts in and out of you slowly, his nose nudging at your clit deliciously with each movement.
He grunts as he notices your hands beside you, and he unhooks one arm from your thigh to grab your wrist, moving your hand to the back of his head. You whimper softly as your fingers weave through his hair, but you don’t pull it; you’re not sure what exactly he wants.
His arms loops back around your thigh again, keeping his face pressed as close to you as possible as he switches between suctioning to your clit and drawing lazy circles around it with his tongue. When he notices that your hand is merely placed on his head, however, he grunts again, unlooking his arm from around you and diving two fingers into your dripping cunt. You moan loudly as he curls his fingers against that spot inside of you, you back almost lifting off the bed as you squirm. Your grip tightens on his hair as he sucks on your clit at the same time, and when he lets out a low moan, you realize that he likes when you pull his hair.
You pull his hair a little harder, and you can feel the pit in your belly growing bigger as you get closer and closer to the edge.
In a few moments, you’re falling apart against him, whimpering loudly as he continues his movements, working you through your orgasm. When he finally pulls away, he straightens up, beaming at you as you raise back up onto your elbows, chest heaving.
“So good for me, sweetheart.” he purrs, and you watch him as he stands up, towering over you. “You think you can take my cock now?”
You nod quickly, and he smirks as his hands move down to his belt. You notice the tent in his pants as he undoes his belt, and then his jeans, and your eyes widen at the size of him as he pulls his pants and boxers down.
Your mouth is watering as he steps out of his pants and then lifts his shirt over his head, and he feels his ego soar as he takes in your eager expression.
He wastes no time crawling on top of you, letting you move up the bed to rest your head on the pillow as he goes. He kneels between your legs as he straightens up, now that you’re where he wants you, and grabs your hands to make you sit up. Once you do, one of his hands moves to the back of your bra and unhooks it easily. He slides the straps down your shoulders and moans when your heavy tits bounce slightly, finally free from your bra.
“If I didn’t want you so bad right now, I’d fuck those pretty tits first.” he purrs. You whimper softly as you bite your lip, looking up at him with sparkling eyes.
“Please.” you whisper, and he lowers himself back onto you, holding himself up with his hands on either side of your head as he begins to grind against you.
“Please, what? Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” he tells you, and you trail your hands down his chest, desperate to feel him.
“Fuck me. Please.” He smirks, giving you a chaste kiss before he reaches down to grab his cock. He looks down as he lines himself up with your entrance, then slowly pushes past your folds, groaning as he feels your greedy cunt stretch around him.
“God, baby. So tight.” he murmurs into your ear, his face beside yours and his lips grazing your neck. You whimper as he stretches you out, feeling slightly overwhelmed as he keeps bullying himself further into your sopping cunt, inch by inch.
Once he’s buried himself to the hilt, he moves his hips back and then snaps them back against yours, testing. When you throw your head back in pure ecstasy, he repeats his actions, thrusting into you eagerly as he kisses your neck. You keep a hand on the back of his neck as he fucks you, fingers finding the hair on the back of his head and pulling it gently.
He whispers sweet praises as his lips continue down from your neck to your collarbone, and then to your tits. He kisses around one breast, then brings your nipple into his mouth, using one of his hands to roughly squeeze and tug on your other breast.
“Such gorgeous tits, baby. Beautiful girl.” he whispers against your skin, and your back arches off the bed at all the attention he’s giving your body.
His thrusts are strong, and when he uses one of his legs to hike your leg up to his waist, you whimper loudly, your fingers tugging on his hair as he hits the spot that makes you see stars.
“How many times you say they’ve picked another girl?” he asks in a low voice, and in your bliss, you barely even register what he’s asking.
“A lot.” you answer truthfully, too cock drunk to lie.
“God, they’re missing out. Such a sweet little pussy. And all mine, isn’t that right?” he asks, lifting his head and looking down to see that you’re struggling to keep your eyes open.
“Yes.” is all you can get out, but that’s all he wants to hear. He continues with his rough thrusts, and after a couple more, he’s twitching inside of you, balls tightening as he teeters on the edge.
“You gonna cum with me, pretty girl? Cum on my cock?” he asks, and you nod as your hands move to his shoulders. You can feel your high quickly approaching, and your nails dig into his shoulders when his fingers start to rub circles over your clit, sloppy and eager.
He feels you clench around him, and he groans, having to close his eyes before he cums too soon.
“Cum for me, baby.” With these words, you’re squeezing your eyes shut as your body goes tense. He tuts, bringing his hand away from your clit and tapping your face lightly, urging you to open your eyes.
When you finally do, he cums hard, hot white release filling you up and threatening to leak out of your pulsing cunt.
You look up at him as he lets go, watching his face contorting in pleasure, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your mouth. He practically collapses on you as you both try to catch your breath, and he presses soft kisses to your neck and chest as you both come down from your high. A few minutes later, he pulls out with a groan, watching your mixed releases drip down your thighs and onto the clean sheets.
He gets up and goes to the bathroom, then comes back with a damp cloth, cleaning up what’s dripped out of you and onto the bed. He throws it to the side, then lays beside you, urging you to lay your head on his chest. For a minute, you both forget the situation, too blissed out to do anything but revel in each other’s company.
“What’s your name?” you ask, your mind finally coming back into focus. Usually, you couldn’t care less about the man’s name, but now, you need to know.
“Evan. Buckley. Buck.” he says slowly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You hum, nodding against his chest, but don’t say anything else. You’re perfectly content with laying her with Buck for as long as he’ll let you. You’re afraid that if you disturb the silence, he’ll tell you it’s time to go.
“Can I ask you a question?” he asks after a minute of silence, and you nod.
“How did you get into this?” You shrug, thinking for a moment. You’re not sure you should tell him.
Another rule: no personal details shared.
Even with his rules echoing through your mind, you feel like you have to tell him. He’s been so sweet, and you don’t think you can hold it in any longer. You haven’t told anyone else this.
“He’s my boyfriend. The owner. Thought he loved me, and I asked him for money to help pay rent because I lost my job. He gave it to me, but when I couldn’t pay him back quick enough, he told me to pay him back like this.” you tell him softly. His body tenses at your words. What the hell kind of boyfriend would make you do something like this to pay him back? He wants to storm back into that bar and beat him to a bloody pulp, but he knows that’s not exactly a good idea.
“How much?” he asks you softly, trying to keep his voice calm as he rubs your back gently.
“$800.” He scoffs at your words. $800 and he’s making you do this? You’ve been working a couple weeks; that’s what you said, and he can’t believe that you haven’t made him that money back yet.
“You’ve been working for weeks, and he still doesn’t have that money?” you sigh again, shrugging.
“There’s a place near the bar where he makes me live with some of the other girls. He takes the money I make and uses it for that too, so when I do make money, almost all of it goes to that.” You’re sure you’d be better off if you were more outgoing; more willing to go up to men in the bar rather than letting them come to you. You’d get much more money, probably. You’re much too shy to do that though, and you’re still not used to what you do.
He wants more than anything to get you out of this situation. He can tell that you’re less than happy about it, but he doesn’t know what to do. Then, an idea comes to him, and he speaks in a hopeful tone.
“Can I see you again?” he asks, and you smile, raising your head off his chest and looking up at him as you nod.
“Of course.” you reply, and he grins, leaning down to kiss you deeply.
You both fall asleep not long after that, and in the morning, he drives you back to the bar, but not before he gets your number.
Your arrangement goes on for months. You meet him once a week, sometimes twice, and after a month, you let him take you to his apartment. He’s easy to trust; and you know what he does for a living, so you don’t feel nervous at all when he pulls you into his apartment and pins you to the door, kissing down your neck.
He gives you money after each time too, far more than what he’s meant to pay you, but he insists. You try to argue, try to tell him that you can’t charge him anything, not when there’s feelings involved, but he doesn’t want to hear it.
He figures if he can give you enough money to pay back the $800 plus your current housing, you’d be able to leave and be with him, for real, sooner rather than later.
He’s surprised when there’s a knock on his door late one night, and his eyes widen when he sees you, teary eyed and a cut across your cheek.
“He won’t let me leave.” you whisper, and he’s quick to pull you into the safety of his apartment. He pulls you into a hug, shushing you as you cry into his chest. His body is tense as he thinks about your boyfriend, who he has just learned is now your ex as you babble into his chest about what happened, but he’s more focused on you.
He pulls you to the couch, and he listens as you restart your story, sniffling softly here and there and finally calming down now that you know you’re safe.
He listens to you tell him that you confronted him, asking him how much you still owe him, and about how he laughed in your face. He listens as you tell him that your ex boyfriend told you that your debt has been paid, but you’ve become good at what you do, and you bring in too much money for him to let go of you.
He clenches his fists as you tell him that when you tried to argue, he tried to force you into submission; pushing you against a wall and slapping you, resulting in the cut on your cheek.
He vows to protect you, that you’re safe with him now. He brings you up to bed, undressing you gingerly and pulling you against him as you both lay in bed. He kisses the back of your neck as you fall asleep, your back pressed tightly against his chest.
You’re never going back there again, he’ll make sure of it. He’ll find out where your things are, and go pick them up when your ex isn’t there, and you’ll stay with him from now on. You’re already his anyway, pretty much, so you’re his to protect. He’ll help you land on your feet, and when you’re ready, he’ll let you find your own place, but he hopes to anyone that will listen that you’ll stay with him. Forever.
the prequel
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—☆ 10. run away
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note: this chapter contains written content! it is a bit of an angsty chapter though :( wc: 825 man honestly nun of this ain't that serious i promise but y/n is just a really anxious lil one so it feels that way 😞
“nagi!” he’s sitting next to the waterfall outside the bioscience block— you wave at him as you start speedwalking to the bench he’s on. the orange of the sunset illuminates his face, and he looks like an evening snowscape. he looks up from his phone, sleepy eyes as he greets you. “hey.”
“you didn’t have to wait for me. i know you would rather be home right now, probably,” you say with a sigh as you take the spot next to him. his tall frame still manages to tower over even as you sit. he cards one hand through his hair— nagi likes the feeling of touching his hair all the way from the root to the tip— an oddly specific quirk, but it’s something that grounds him. “i had to stay back for a bit too, so it would’ve been more of a hassle for me to go back to my place and come back here…”
it’s a… well, it’s not a complete lie, but it’s not a complete truth either. an excuse would probably be the best name for it. he did have football practice with his team, but it ended at the same time it always did— and then he texted you, asking you when you'd be done, and then he decided that he’d just wait until you were done. screw it, he just wanted to see you, even if it meant going out of his way to do so. you lift your legs onto the bench and lean against his side and chuckle. “that just sounds like ‘i really missed you and i just wanted to see you again’ to me.”
“you’re right,” nagi agrees all too quickly. your response might just have been a humorous quip, but there’s no denying it. “you can’t just say things like that! and- and be so nonchalant about it!” you crane your neck against his shoulder to get a worm’s-eye view from your awkward position. he feels his heartbeat get quicker from the sudden proximity, and it takes him a significant effort to keep a straight expression. he looks down at your face, a playful smirk gracing his features while the redness creeps into your own. “but i mean it—” he cloaks his words with more playfulness and faux innocence (but he really does mean it). he was never one to care for other people’s feelings much but now he finds himself wondering how you felt.
“you’re making it worse.” you turn your neck back down to bury your face in your hands. such banter has become a frequent between the two of you, but you still wonder if he means everything he said. well, you know nagi means whatever he says so it would be more accurate to say you were questioning if you deserved it or not.
it’s a hassle to lie, and to keep up with the lie, and you unfortunately know better than to dispute that fact— which leads you to a realisation about a certain something, so raw and pure. nagi’s certainty of his feelings was something that awed you, but now that the subject of his feelings was you? you find that the awe turns into sickening fear. twisted vines grip at your heart and suddenly you feel sick from the anxiety, a constant barrage of ‘he deserves better’ running through your mind.
“come on, we should leave.” your feet are back on the ground, but no sooner had those words left your mouth, a strong arm slithers around your waist, effectively restraining you against the body of its owner. you’re momentarily taken aback by the strength of his grip, but nagi is an athlete after all. “h-hey…” you were always the avoidant sort, and you wanted nothing more than to remove yourself from the situation at hand, the anxiety welling up in your gut and knocking the air out of your lungs. “mm, we’ll leave in a bit.”
it doesn’t take much protest and clawing at his arm from your end to persuade him; he gives up with a groan and frees you from his vice grip. “anything wrong?” nothing escapes the ever observant— he can see the way you suddenly start avoiding his eyes and fiddling with your fingers. “oh, it’s nothing, really… actually, i feel kind of sick. can we, um, put this off to another day?”
a bold-faced lie. nagi knows your tells well enough by now, and the sudden shift in your attitude bothers him— but he can’t find it in himself to press you on the matter. his expression returns to its usual neutral state, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s caught on to your lie; hell, why were you questioning it? he must have, but you decide you don’t care enough either, for now. “alright, i guess… see you tomorrow then.”
“see you tomorrow!” running away is all you’re good at. nagi starts feeling like you’re out of reach.
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could you write one where reader is in a relationship w mapi and ingrid and get in a fight before the final so reader says she’s not going and then last minute changes her mind and surprises them
Change of Heart
Mapi x Ingrid x reader
Warnings: slight angst at the beginning
~~~
Dating Mapi and Ingrid was usually easy. Loving them was easy. They were both some of the most caring, loving, attentive girlfriends, and you really couldn't ask for a better relationship.
The past week though, it was hard. With the upcoming final looming, tensions were high, and you could tell both of your girlfriends were feeling the pressure of winning the Champions League title for a third year in a row . The smallest things seemed to set everyone off, and despite your best efforts to be supportive, the stress had gotten to all three of you.
The fight started over something trivial—Mapi had forgotten to put away her training gear, and Ingrid had snapped at her about it. Of course you and Ingrid had both gotten onto Mapi before about leaving everything in the entryway, but neither of you had ever snapped before. You had tried to mediate, but the frustration boiled over, leading to harsh words and hurt feelings for all three of you. In the heat of the moment, you declared that you wouldn't be attending the final.
"If you can't even keep it together here, how are you supposed to play as a team out there?" you had shouted, instantly regretting the words as soon as they left your mouth. Mapi's eyes had widened in hurt, and Ingrid's face had hardened with resolve.
The silence that followed was deafening. Mapi and Ingrid left for practice without another word, leaving you alone with your thoughts and guilt.
As the day of the final approached, the house was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Mapi and Ingrid focused on their training, barely speaking to you except for the essentials and you knew they had exchanged very few words as well. You tried to busy yourself with your job as a coffee shop owner , but nothing could shake the feeling that you had let them down when they needed you most. That you had only added to their stress instead of being able to help them relax.
On the morning of the final, you sat in the kitchen, staring at the ticket on the table. You knew Ingrid had set it there before she left. Part of you wanted to stick to your decision out of pride, but a larger part of you knew that you couldn't let Mapi and Ingrid down. They needed your support, and you needed to make things right.
With a deep breath, you grabbed the ticket and headed to the stadium in your Cupra. You found your seat next to your girlfriends' parents greeting them with hugs, nervously glancing around as the stadium filled up. You knew your girlfriends hadn't spotted you in the crowd yet as you watched them warming up.
The game was intense so far and Barcelona and Bayern were still scoreless. Mapi and Ingrid were in top form, playing with a determination that made your heart swell with pride. But as the minutes ticked by, you couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something—your support.
At halftime, you made your way down to the edge of the field, hoping to catch their attention. As the players came back onto the field, you saw Mapi and Ingrid scanning the crowd. When their eyes finally met yours, you saw the surprise and relief in their expressions. You waved, mouthing "I'm sorry" and "I love you" to both of them.
Their faces lit up with smiles, and you could see some of the tension lift from your shoulders. The second half of the game was even more intense, but Mapi and Ingrid played with a renewed vigor. In the 73rd minute Mapi scored the most amazing free kick you had ever seen, although you might be slightly biased. In the 87th minute Pina scored the second goal and in the 94th minute Ingrid headed in a goal off Mapi's corner to seal the win.
After the celebrations on the field, Mapi and Ingrid made their way over to you, tears of joy and relief in their eyes. Ingrid helped you climb over the barrier as Mapi wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug.
"You both were amazing, I can't believe you both scored in a Champions League final."
Ingrid hugged you next as you whispered how proud you were of her in her ear.
"I'm so glad you came," Mapi said, her voice choked with emotion.
"We couldn't have done it without you," Ingrid added, as she released you from the hug.
"Let's go take a picture with the trophy amors," Mapi said as she grabbed your hand and dragged you to where Patri and Pina were holding the trophy.
#woso#woso x reader#fcb femení#mapi leon#fc barcelona femeni#mapi leon x reader#mapi leon imagine#mapi león#ingrid engen x reader#ingrid engen#barcelona femeni
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Hi there! It's me :"> again I read that you're closing your request soon and I just want to put another in before the deadline haha But by no mean you should put more pressure on yourself please take all the time you need, I'm always here happily waiting while enjoy reading all of the fabulous writing you had for other requests <3 Much love to your work <3
I have a request for s smut fic when the BAU was called in for a case: the victims were workers at the local bars/restaurants, the bau!reader recognised one of the bars the unsub frequently target is the one she used to work at as bartender/mixologist while putting herself through school and asked to be the undercover while other agents supervise. After successfully closing the case, the BAU decided to celebrate at said bar and the owner was happy to let the reader personally make your friends any cocktails outside of the menu.
The reader then learned about all the mildly irritations and possessive feelings softdom!Spencer had while watching people hitting on you behind the bar, but all of that can be solved with a (almost criminally) 3-sugar-cube level of sweet of a cocktail the reader personally made for him hiding an ungodly amount of alcohol which made the night a lot more interesting ;)
I'm sorry if all of my requests are soo long I know you want to have as much details as possible but please lemme know if you feel like it's too much haha Happy writing!! :">
A/N: Thank you for your request! I was partly inspired by this post to help me out with some of the drinks orders, so go check it out for more character headcannoms!
Warnings: NSFW, soft dom! Spencer, spanking, semi-public sex, jealousy, slight breeding kink/ creampie, thigh fucking etc. 18+ Minors DNI
It had been a good few years since you quit the bartending job that put you through college, so you didn't realise just how much you'd missed it.
You thought it was the universe intervening when a case popped up in your college town, and the bar you'd spent every weekend in for nearly three years straight from the end of your undergrad to the first years of your masters degree was at the dead centre of Spencer Reid's geographical profile.
You knew the unsub had been hunting from bars, and it took only a few nights of surveillance to catch his scent, and one more of a simple cover to get the guy.
You'd taken up your spot once again, slipping easily back into making cocktails and pouring pints of beer on tap - a skill you were regretfully slow to learn but happy to see stayed with you even in your brief retirement.
You busted the bar while your coworkers tried to look inconspicuous sitting around as customers. Diligently, you served them mocktails and alcohol free beer ad regulars clapped you on the back, greeting you like an old friend as you worked to catch a killer.
JJ was the bait, and you were glad, for once, that it wasn't you, even if that thought made you feel guilty. She slipped out with a crash, and all eyed were on the man that followed her quietly to the alleyway out back.
He practically arrested himself. All in all, it had taken maybe three days to catch the guy, and you'd never been so happy to have had to work a double shift to do it.
“Y/N, if this FBI thing doesn't work for you, I'd be glad to have you back behind the bar. These college students just aren't what they used to be.” Your ex-boss grinned at you, indulging in his own glass of whiskey now that the case was closed.
He'd graciously invited your entire team to spend the rest of the evening at the bar celebrating (for at least a drink or two before his wife came to collect him). You were shocked when Hotch took him up on the offer, but happily stayed behind the bar mixing up the drinks.
“Okay, now that we've found out you're this magic mixologist, you have got to make us personal cocktails. I want to see how drunk you can get me, Y/L/N.” Emily laughed from the corner, finishing the last dregs of her virgin piña colada.
“My dear Emily, it is not the mixologist job to get you drunk, it's the mixologist job to keep you sober for as long as possible so you keep buying drinks.”
“No, come on kid, I'm intrigued as well. I'm not a cocktail guy but you've been pouring like a woman possessed tonight. Help.me out here, Spencer, hasn't she been on fire?”
Spencer's eye caught yours and your heart skipped a beat when he gave you a small smile. He'd been quiet all night, and you felt a little regretful that you'd made him stay so long in a place he wasn't entirely comfortable with. But he was still here, and surprisingly, still drinking, nursing the beer that your old boss had served them all when they'd returned from the crime scene.
“Mixology is an interesting field of study. When you think about it, it's practically chemistry.”
“I like to think of it as alchemy,” you grinned at him, enjoying the way he could turn anything into something more complicated and mathematical than it is. “Because one sip of one of my cocktails will have you thinking you've unlocked the secret of immortality.”
“Okay, if that's how drunk we're getting tonight then I'm calling home now,” JJ laughed standing from her chair and already dialling the numbers.
“Okay - here we go.” You grabbed the bottle of vodka from the counter and started, keeping your eyes focused on Reid as much as you could.
–X–
After two hours and about 5 rounds of cocktails, you'd nearly defeated the entire team. Your ex-boss had thrown you the keys half an hour earlier and called himself a cab, leaving you behind to close up just like old times.
Hotchner and Rossi had given in after two drinks each, apparently old and wise enough to know just how much alcohol was in an Old Fashioned and a Negroni each.
“Oh how the mighty have fallen,” Emily had mocked them on the way out, but two drinks later and she was asleep in the back of a cab having been carried out by both JJ and Morgan.
You'd used the good gin in her Aviation cocktail, and it was only a matter of time before she ended up peacefully sleeping the week away.
The only member of the team left standing was, surprisingly again, Spencer.
You'd gone simple with his Espresso Martini, though you'd made a big show and dance about adding twice as much brown sugar syrup than the recipe required.
“A sweet cocktail for the man who drinks the sweetest coffee known to man.” He'd brushed his hand across your fingers every time you'd passed him a refill, and you'd felt the familiar jolts of anticipation pass through you with each shared glance.
Your old boss had even noticed that you were ‘sweet on that little coworker of yours,’ and you'd had to do your best to stop yourself from openly flirting with him whilst he was sat there at the bar.
You'd done it for tips every single shift, not caring about the consequences, buy with Spencer, you so desperately wanted there to be consequences that you never so much as tried.
“We should pack up and head home, Spence.” You said, cleaning up the final glass of Mai Tai Derek had left behind, but when you turned around to see him, he was gone.
More accurately, he'd moved to your side of the bar and was sliding his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you in.
You gasped his name like a prayer, not expecting his cold fingers to curl under your shirt as he buried his head in your shoulder.
“Spencer! What's… what are…”
“Let me hold you.” He didn't say much more than that, but he didn't need to say more. You'd already.relaxed into his touch, eyes shutting so you could focus on the feel of his skin against yours.
“You're good at this,” he mumbled, words slightly slurred. “Everyone was watching you, they all wanted you to pour their drinks.”
You listened to each word of his voice fighting off confusion. Who was everybody? There hadn't been another customer in the bar since you'd made the arrest.
“The old men in the corner, they looked down your top when you picked something up for them. I heard them talking about it, how they thought about stuffing a couple of one's right here,” his hand trailed up to your breasts and you gasped, “like you were some stripper.”
His hands were slowly caressing you as he stood, chest pressed against your back, and you felt desire flood between your legs.
“Spencer, you're drunk, we should get you back to the motel.”
“My blood alcohol level should be around 0.11, so yes, legally I am drunk. If you want me back at the motel, be my guest, but I don't think I can keep my hands off of you tonight, Y/N.”
His words were blunt, delivered the same way he usually talked about case details, or books he'd read. There was nothing in it to indicate he'd meant to turn your world upside down just like that.
His hand had moved under your bra now, and you snapped back to reality, grabbing his hand and halting his movements momentarily as you craned your neck to look at him.
“Spencer, you're not in your right mind, you're going to regret this-” you didn't get to finish the sentence as he cut you off, pushing his lips into yours softly. With each second, his passion grew, until the two of you were caught in a battle of tongues, saliva dripping down your chin as you cared about nothing else but the pleasure you found in each other's mouths.
“The only thing,” he whispered between kisses. “That I'm going to regret, is if I let you walk me out of that door without showing you how much I want to possess every inch of you.”
His words were insistent but there was a question hidden in his movements. He'd withdrawn slightly, giving you enough space to turn him down should you want to.
You didn't.
Instead, you let a hand run up the back of his neck to his hair until you were pulling him down into you, stepping back into the warmth of his broad chest as you opened up to him.
Your other hand relinquished his, letting him explore your chest further and doing much of the same as you tried your very best to twist in your spot to get a better hold of him.
He was holding firm though, despite everything he'd drank, and had pushed you once again against the counter, hand moving between exploring your ass cheeks, and placing your hand firmly underneath you on the table so you could stabilise your position.
He worked his lips down your neck, prying your other hand out of his hair and placing it parallel to the first, before pulling your hips back slightly and encouraging you to arch your back.
You only realised you'd assumed a position for spanking when the first blow landed on your ass.
It was soft, all things considered, and he was still busy bruising your neck that you almost thought you'd imagined it.
The next one was harder though. It was real.
“Spencer!” You gasped as he stroked a hand over your asscheeks.
“Shhhhhhhh s'okay. You have a beautiful ass, I'm just making it prettier.”
His hands fumbled over your pants zipper, and then pulled them down to your knees as he continued stroking your ass and licking your neck.
The material limited your movements, trapping your knees together as he delivered one more blow. The skin to skin contact was too much and you let out a sinful moan, surprised at how loud you were suddenly managing to be.
You'd never been spanked before, never even thought about it, but something about Spencer's hands on you, the lingering scent of alcohol in the air had every hair on your body standing in excitement.
You heard Spencer unzip his own pants and were a little regretful that you didn't get the honour. You wanted to see him hold him in your hand, take him into your mouth and play with him until you knew just how he worked. But your back was still to him, and he wasn't giving you the space you needed to turn around and catch a glimpse.
“Every man in this bar tonight wanted to be where I am right now,” he whispered into your hair as he kissed the crown of your head, and then pushed your panties aside and ran himself along the lips of your cunt.
It was a night of sounds - the zippers, his whispers, your moans - bit you still weren't expecting to be able to hear your arousal.
It was erotic, near pornographic how wet his spanking had made you, and he let out small groans of appreciation as he gathered your juices on his cock.
He didn't try to breech you just yet, but rocked his cock between your thighs and cunt, teasing you just enough to keep you hooked, but nowhere near where you needed him to get you.
“Every man who was in here wanted you, and I got you. Right?” He asked again, practically rutting against your cunt.
“Y-Yes, Spencer.”
“Yes, sir.” He corrected, and you gasped as his hand struck your ass again, dangerously close to where his hips joined yours.
“Yes, sir.”
“Be a good girl for me, baby. I want to take care of you.”
With those words, he lined the tip of his cock up with your entrance and slipped in.
With your knees still locked in place by your pants, it was really up to Spencer to control the pace. You didn't spare a second for the thought that had you been completely naked with a better range of motion that he still wouldn't relinquish this quiet control of you.
With one hand on your hip, and the other curled around to reach your clit as you arched your back against him, it wasn't long before he was setting a vigorous pace.
It wasn't that he was thrusting particularly fast, or that he was doing it ridiculously hard, like some men who knew no better tried. It was the combination of how far he was able to reach with his careful concentration on your pleasure.
You felt him speed up once before quickly drawing himself back to the even tempo, doing his best to not get lost in you.
His fingers traced your cunt in a slow figure eight as first, before experimenting with different movements, shapes, words until he'd been rewarded by your cunt clenching around his cock as you came all over it.
You gasped in shock, and flushed, so shocked it took only that long.
Instead of congratulating himself on getting you off though, he used your orgasm to inform himself of what you liked, what you so desperately needed from his fingers and his cock.
And most importantly, he didn't stop.
Even as your body twitched and spasmed around his cock, he kept up his wrist movements, keeping your body warmed up as he finally took his turn.
“Tell me how much you want this,” he whispered into your ear.
“I want this so badly, Sir, I need your cock pumping in and- ahhh out of me.”
“Tell me how nice my cock feels,” he again ordered and you willingly obeyed.
“Your cock is perfect, it's so big and warm, like it was made just for me.”
“Good girl, now tell me how much you want me to shoot my cum inside of you.”
Your mouth went dry as you choked out a moan, his pace getting rougher and rougher with each thrust. You hadn't heard him correctly, surely, your brain was imagining things.
But he prompted you with a slight tap to your face, a slap that wouldn't leave any mark.
“You don't want my cum all over this bar, do you? It would be a shame for your ex boss to fail his hygiene inspection.”
“Cum in me! God, please cum in me.”
He gripped you tight around your waist as he finally pushed himself over the edge, filling you with his seed and keeping you pinned in his arms until he was sure that none of it would escape.
“I'm glad you agreed, because I wasn't asking,” he said, chest still slightly heaving as he rode out his orgasm, lower body twitching in its sensitivity.
When he finally did pull out, he'd spent so long inside you, cockwarming, that not much of his cum slipped out. He cleaned you up with a clean dishcloth you pointed to on the counter, and pulled your pants back up, quickly manoeuvring his up too.
After a brief moment of silence, you finally turned to look at him, melting into his arms again as you took in his fucked out expression.
He stroked your head quietly for a few minutes, before pulling back from your hug.
“This bar doesn't have CCTV, does it?”
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#mgg#spencer reid smut#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you
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playboys don’t play - marc guiu
prompt: college parties are his thing, but soon you’re the life of his party.
warnings: cursing, drinking, suggestive content (not smut, but just some making out and physical touch), probably some cheesy stuff
credits to owners for all images.
just to clear things up, you weren’t a total loser in college. you loved going out with your friends. the only difference is, you knew how to maintain your grades. this semester has taken over your life very negatively. your friends never saw you anymore, and you only said 5 words to your roommate every single day.
there was only one solution. going out to a party. don’t get me wrong, therapy is very considerable as well. yet, parties are free and a nice stress reliever. your friends practically forced you out of your dorm. you loved going out, but never to places where the entire college is attending.
this party was a celebration to the college’s first soccer game this season, ending in a successful win. it was hosted by the one and only, marc guiu.
it was only his first year attending college. boy, did he gain a quick reputation. every single girl wanted him. during conversations before your classes, his name would start echoing. loud sounds of laughter and shrieks from people as he walked past. rumors flew about how many girls he’s been with, but nobody knew if they were true. constant talk in your friend group of bets on who gets to be the lucky girl he’s going to be with tonight.
you couldn’t lie to yourself. he was very attractive. he gave you sweet smiles across the class, maybe a few winks. in return, you gave him a ‘what the fuck’ face. you were in denial that you wanted him too.
“y/n is looking hella good today.” one of your girlfriends whistling as you put on your red lipstick.
“about time you took a break from your glasses. those contacts look really nice.”
overwhelmed with the compliments, you replied with a simple thank you. nothing like a tight and short black dress with gold jewelry.
arriving to the party, you and your friends were greeted with flashing lights. your friend group consisted a mix of girls. some popular, some casual, some nerdy. all that matters was a healthy friendship.
welcomed with shots being poured down your throat. you were still shocked at how beautiful the soccer teams ‘frat’ house was.
mingling in with the people, you couldn’t help but make eye contact with marc. his soft brown eyes looking at you and slowly noticing every detail of you.
“who are you staring at?” hector came up to him, causing the eye contact to break. you turned around to socialize with people and make more friends.
“nobody.” marc cleared his throat. trying to gain his normal thoughts, hector could see through his lies.
“you were staring at y/n, weren’t you.”
“no. i wasn’t. what are you talking about.” he shook his head repeatedly. marc had feelings for you ever since he laid eyes on you. he hated when rumors came around about him with other girls because the only person he wanted to be with, was you.
“marc, it’s time for you to tell her. im sure you don’t want any other guy on her, right?” as hector said the last sentence, he pointed at you talking to another guy who was obviously flirting with you.
“maybe i will. don’t worry about it.” marc walked away to get a drink as hector shrugged him off. nothing like getting him riled up just so he can be more direct towards you.
more games came around. such as beer pong, and your favorite, spin the bottle.
people sat in a circle with an empty beer bottle in the middle. first few spins landed on some of your friends.
“maria, truth or dare?” your friend, livy asked her.
“truth.” some people shouted boring, but the game was just getting started.
“is it true you hooked up with tyler?” sounds of ooo’s and gasps were heard. rumors flew around here, and this was the perfect time to get them straight.
“it is true.” maria laughed it off. the secret was finally out. considering maria was your roommate, you knew all the details of that night.
“alright, next.” livy’s boyfriend spun the bottle. slowly passing up marc, it landed on hector.
“truth or dare, hector?” hector gave a soft smirk. this man was always up for a challenge.
“dare.” it’s a tradition that the first dare of the night had to be the most memorable and the highlight of the party.
“i dare you to make out with kaitlyn.” damn, this game was getting hot. nothing like a time to rekindle high school sweethearts. especially when hector missed his ex girlfriend from his junior year. kaitlyn didn’t mind, she wanted him back just as bad.
hector stood up slowly and went up to her. both of them start making out, leading to many people trying to separate them after awhile.
“alright, next person.” hector spun the bottle. it made two laps and spun past you twice. it slowed down and pointed directly at marc.
“marc, my best friend, truth or dare.” hector patted him on his back.
“dare.” marc’s soft smile made you smile.
“i want you to spend 7 minutes in heaven with the next person it lands on.” all the girls made eye contact with each other. some of them were determined to have the bottle land on them.
“deal.” marc spun the bottle as fast as he could. slowly and slowly, the bottle landed on you. hector gave him a nice smile and a few laughs. you slowly stood up as marc was looking at you in disbelief.
“get up marc. you know you want to.” you were scared. you doubted anything was gonna happen since this would be the first interaction between the two, but this was definitely not how you saw yourself for the next 7 minutes. everyone followed you and him upstairs to his room. hector opened his closet door. luckily it was clean. "have fun." hector closed the door and now you were alone with marc. with the only light coming from his room through the little cracks of his door.
the next 2 minutes were just in silence as both of you sat on the ground. it was awkward, and you wanted to try and talk to him. yet, he looked terrified.
soon, he spoke, "i'm sorry y/n. i didn't wanna make my reaction look like that."
"you're fine. i thought you hated me for a second." trying to ease the tension, marc knew it was time to listen to hector's advice.
“no, i don’t hate you. it’s actually the opposite. i know this sounds weird, but i actually have a crush on you.” this was the first time someone ever confessed to you directly. maybe the first time someone even confessed. you were in pure shock trying to process what he just said.
“i thought you had a girlfriend.” marc sighed, knowing you were gonna bring up the rumors.
“i swear i’ve never dated anyone. you’re the only one i have feelings for. i know you’ve heard and think i got with almost every girl here, but i can promise you i didn’t. y/n, i’m being so serious to you. i’m not the playboy you think i am.”
you moved your body closer to him as he looked at you. he waited patiently for a response. “that’s actually pretty sweet of you to say. i’m not gonna lie to you either, but i think you’re attractive too. it’s just, i think we need to take some time to get to know each other.”
“that’s understandable. i’m just glad you got where i was coming from.” you made eye contact with him again. this time, you were closer to his face and you could see his eyes glisten at you. you looked at his lips, then his eyes.
one second led to another, you were now fully making out with him. you were straddled over his lap as your tongues continued to dance. his left hand placed on your ass, and his right traveling around your body. you kissed his jawline, then to his neck. he wanted his full attention on your lips though. he was holding your cheek as the night became needy.
unexpectedly, the door opened. you got off of marc and stood up to fix your dress.
“i see someone had fun.” hector winked at marc as he helped him stood up. walking outside, everyone was shocked. you looked at marc in confusion, only to notice your red lipstick was all over his lips, neck, and jaw. marc looked at you, and did not expect to see your lipstick smudged.
everyone left the room as marc wiped off some of your lipstick, and gave you one last kiss.
#football x reader#football fanfic#football imagine#barca#fc barcelona#fc barca#spotify#marc guiu#marc guiu x reader#marc guiu imagine#marc guiu fanfic#hector fort
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"got your bible, got your gun." || part three.
꒰ ៹ . " 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒. "
coachella: woodstock in my mind. - lana del rey
୨୧˖-ׁ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: while cruising through the sky, a storm brews...
꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: new ! bau ! female ! reader x jealous ! spencer
꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 930
꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: fighting ( verbal ) , real conflict begins here
ㅤㅤㅤ꒰ ៹ . 🍒 previous chapters: 𝐈 , 𝐈𝐈
wheels were up. a particularly disturbing case called for you to travel halfway across the country. and it was only your third day on the job.
you had offered to sit this one out. you would’ve been fine sorting out old paperwork in the comfort of your little desk. but they handed you a polished gun and got you on the jet. and that was that.
“mind if i sit here?”
spencer didn’t even need to look up from his novel to immediately identify the owner of the voice. he cleared his throat, brows furrowing as he parted his legs slightly in subconscious protection of “his territory.”
“it’s a free country. knock yourself out.” he muttered under his breath.
you gracefully sat yourself in the leather seat that was conjoined with his. you placed the case files handed to you on your lap, glancing over at the man beside you. his nose was buried in a hard cover novel, the book in pristine condition that made it look completely untouched.
“whatcha reading there, spencer?” you were going to be on the flight for a while, so why not try to start a conversation with your new colleague?
he wasn’t used to the way his name sounded in your mouth. “uh, pride and prejudice.” he responded.
after just a few conversations with spencer, there were things you started to take note of: he never looked at you when he spoke, when he talked his voice was always suppressed, like he was forcing himself to hold back from saying something that was just itching to come out, and his body language was practically screaming for you to stay away from him.
but you had never been the firmest believer in basic human psychology.
you nodded slightly at his answer, opening up one of the files in front of you. “...i could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine…” you whispered. it was a quote directly from the novel. you hadn’t picked it out for any particular reason, it was simply the first one that came to mind.
spencer shut the book, probably with more force than intended before looking directly at you, eyes narrowed. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
your head shot in his direction as you realized that he must’ve taken your reference the wrong way. oops.
“oh, i didn’t mean anything by it, doctor. i’ve read the book too.”
the hint of mockery in your voice was unmistakable. he swallowed hard, a vein on his forehead beginning to pulsate. you avoided his gaze to glance outside the airplane window. the clouds had grown dark over the past few minutes. a storm was on its way.
it was at this moment that you finally shut up, but now he was getting started.
“you must think i was born yesterday, huh?” the floodgates had burst open.
you raised an eyebrow, face contorting with defense. “excuse me?”
spencer whipped his glasses off of his face, lowering his voice to a snarling whisper, biting out each of his meticulously picked out words with razor-sharp precision.
“you’ve got everyone in this goddamn unit wrapped around your little finger. you practically waltzed into this profession, manipulate my team with those big eyes of yours, and now you’re trying to get me under your spell too. and i’m willing to bet that all you had to do to get this job was bat your eyelashes before they served it to you on a silver platter. i’m the only one in this place who’s got their head on straight. i swear…”
and he just kept going. it was like standing right in front of an erupting volcano that was said to be inert. everytime you thought he was done, another wave of distasteful words spilled out. until he stopped. an uncomfortable wave of silence pulsated. to your surprise, you were able to mask your shock behind a poker face of indifference.
“...so that’s the problem. you’re scared, intimidated even. you believe that someone like me isn’t worthy of working in the field with highly-experienced men. you’re jealous that i seemed to blend in instantly, almost effortlessly, while you still stick out like a sore thumb after all these years. now tell me, doctor reid, do you express such severe disdain toward me because i’m young, or because i’m a woman?”
his jaw slacked open. you had read him like an open book, and hearing the truth behind his animosity for you summoned something in his gut. embarrassment? no. remorse? not quite. he didn’t know how to descirbe how he felt, but the pure, unflitered abhorrence on his face said it all.
“neither, and i’m not a sexist.” he muttered, “so you can quit profiling me now.”
his cheeks obtained an unmistakable pink flush, silencing him at once. you let out a satisfied hum, leaning back in your chair and shifting your attention to the pictures of the crime scene that were given to you. you could hear his uneven breaths still as the quiet minutes passed.
“...and for the record…” you started, eyes glued to the files in front of you. “...i worked my ass off to land this job. i’ve never let pretentious men like you stop me from getting to the top, and i won’t start now.”
he bit the inside of his cheek, hastily putting his glasses back on his face and flipping his book back open. there was so much that he wanted to say, but he would hate for this dispute between youths to make a scene. he didn’t even care that he had lost his page, because one thing was for certain:
if you weren’t a problem to him before, you definitely are now.
fill out the taglist form ! : @mikaaj , @feyresqueen , @guiltyyassin , @broadwaytraaaaash , @hiireadstuff , @diorsgirlfriend , @hotwheelsenthusiastic , @yorksyree , @placidus , @idkbubs
#444rockstargf#lana del rey#ㅤ꒰ ៹ . 🍒“ 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐔𝐍 ! ” series!#mgg#matthew gray gubler#spencer reid#spencer reid criminal minds#dr spencer reid#enemies to lovers
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Distracting
Keiji Akaashi x reader
College AU!
WC: 2k
~ Thanks to the new library aid, your once quiet study spot has become much more… Distracting
a/n: sorry I have been gone for so long, it's been hard to do things lately. I hope you like this one. I tried to make it cohesive but when you start something and stop it in bi-weekly intervals you tend to loose yourself a bit in the process.
There is always that one damn professor who takes an extra step to make their course more challenging for students for no reason in particular.
Yours is your history professor, known throughout the campus as Dr. Asshole. He is known for handwriting confusing exam questions and surprise Pop Quizzes on material chapters ahead of the assigned reading.
His newest pretentious obsession is assigning massive papers and requiring that his students research the whole thing using non-digital sources. This wouldn't be an issue normally, but your university is in the middle of nowhere, and there are at least a hundred students in this particular class. Which means every desperate student looking to raise their grade will be flocking to the library trying to find as many sources they can.
As soon as your class and you start your usual walk to the university's library, your usual study spot, and hope it will be the goldmine of information you need it to be.
The sliding glass doors part for you as you enter. The faint smell of books wafts under your nose as you enjoy the natural sunlight that streams in through the glass skylights. The quiet, studious atmosphere lacks the noisy distractions that are back at your place. The air is comfortable, not too warm, and not too cold.
Your usual table is bare and sun-soaked under the glass skylights. Your book bag slides stiffly down your shoulder, and you wonder if it would be a good idea to leave it unattended for a few minutes.
Your eyes scan the room. There are a few students lounging in the corner on some large beanbags, Little white earbuds snug in their ears as they scroll through their sleek, thin, laptops. You see the back of one of the Library assistants slowly pushing a cart of books down a lowly lit aisle.
Your gut tells you that you can trust the small group of randos. You set your bag down on the table so you can begin your search for academic materials. Slowly, you make your way down the rows of books. The space has never looked cleaner; all the selves, even the hard-to-reach ones, are free of dust, and as you flip through possible sources, you notice that someone has taken the time to smooth out previously dog-eared pages and pluck out the old bookmarks.
After only searing the shelves for a few minutes, you have an uncomfortably tall stack of books in your arms.
For balance, you stretch your chin out to steady the stack as you start to walk back to your table. The smooth laminate of the book jackets causes your literary mountain to quake as you shuffle through the shelves. Your arms burning from the weight as you turn a blind corner.
There's a crash
There's some cursing
And you are on the ground…The books clattering to the floor around you as you wonder how you ended up face to carpet.
Books are scattered all around you as a hand comes into your peripheral. It extends itself toward you as if it was trying to help you up.
"Are you alright!? I am so sorry." the voice of its owner says. Their voice laced with genuine concern as you take in the worried face of and the dark, slightly-messy hair of Keiji Akaashi. You know him as the setter for your university's Volleyball team.
You have only ever seen him with his friends walking to practice or from the stands whenever you make it to a home game. Never up close like this. He is so handsome that you wonder if you hit your head during your fall to have just noticed it.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asks again, and you realize that you haven't answered him at all. You must've been too busy admiring how great the lean athlete looks in his cream-colored sweater.
"Yeah," you reply, taking his hand and allowing him to help you to your feet. "I'm all right."j
"Really?' His blue eyes are looking you over again as if he doesn't believe you.
You know your head and give him a sweet smile. "I'm positive. I'll take a whole lot more than a book cart to take me out."
"That's a relief." he chuckles, "I guess I got a bit distracted earlier." his gaze casting downwards slightly. They embarrassingly land on a half-open book, which must be the cause of this whole thing.
"Pride and Prejudice?" you muse, craning your neck to view the title. "Good choice. I'd get distracted too."
"It's a great book." he sighs, "But I should've been paying more attention to where I was going. Especially with the cart, those wheels are stubborn."
You look at the cart behind him and find yourself agreeing with him. The library may have been renovated fairly recently, but those carts were not included in the remodel. "I see what you mean; they certainly have seen better days." Your fingers reach out to gently tug at the peeling top layer of paint on the cart. The tan color covers up chipped and uneven coats of grays and black from years past.
It brings a silly smile to your lips when you think about the similar paint job covering the light switches back at your rental. College housing does not have the highest caliber or repairs, and so it is often subjected to the 'landlord special.'
You notice that he is watching you, his blue eyes scanning your features like he is reading a book. They flicker from your eyes to your mouth as if he is trying to discern what you are thinking at that moment.
This careful attention isn't creepy at all. It's rather endearing. Especially coming from someone as blatantly attractive as Keiji Akaashi.
Your cheeks burn with embers of youthful bashfulness, and you hope that he doesn't notice.
"Oh wow, you were really carrying a lot of books," he comments, looking away from you long enough to notice your stack of fallen library books. Without any hesitation, he crouches down and begins gathering the pile for you.
"You think so?" you ask. "I still don't know if I have enough for my assignment." the somber tone of your voice causes the library aide to inspect the large stack of books in his arms.
"Let me guess, you have Dr. Asshole this semester." he chuckles dryly. "I had him last spring."
"He's really the worst," you chuckle. "I just want to get this paper over with before everyone is fighting over the same three books."
"I remember that," he laments, "Bokuto- uhh, my friend was in that class for about one hour before he dropped it. I think that was the smartest thing he has ever done."
"I think I'm a bit too stubborn to drop." you chuckle, holding your arms out to take the books from his sweater-clad arms.
"And I'm a bit too stubborn to give these back to you." he glances at the tables behind you. "Where are we taking these?"
"I- can take them back myself," you say defiantly, a light playfulness to your tone.
"I'm sure you can. But it's the least I can do after running you over with a book cart."
"It's hard to argue with that logic. My spot is right there." you point to your lonely table as he follows behind you. Easily carrying the stack of books you had selected.
Having a gorgeous man carry your books was something you thought only existed in coming-of-age rom-coms (or whatever). But now that it's happening in real life, you can't say that the experience is not enjoyable.
"Is there alright?" he asks, gesturing to the tabletop. When you nod, he sets the pile down at your spot and notices that there is a student waiting by the checkout counter, their fingers drumming impatiently against the wood. Keiji sees them and lets out a deep sigh, "I guess I have to get back to work, but if you need any help finding more books for your paper, I'd be more than happy to help."
You hate that this little moment, whatever it was, is over. But you understand that he has a job to do, and so do you. "Thank you, I will definitely let you know if my pile is too small."
He smiles so genuinely at your words that you start to wonder if him hitting you with that book cart is one of the best things to ever happen to you.
As he walks away, you get settled into your seat and take the first book from your pile. Your eyes scan over the crinkly, water-damaged pages without really processing anything.
How could you think about anything other than Keiji Akaashi, the volleyball-playing, sweater-wearing, snarky library assistant who keeps glancing over at you from his desk?
You hide your smile with the palm of your hand, determined to pretend to be engrossed in your studies.
~
Half an hour later, you have not made any progress on your paper at all. Your poor, distracted brain tries to read those tiny words. But you can't comprehend anything. So you're just staring down at the pages with a furrowed brow.
It's not your fault, really…
It's his…
You wonder if he takes pleasure in distracting little old you.
As if to test this theory of yours, you shyly glance back over at the checkout counter only to make direct eye contact with Akaasi. His blue eyes shine almost mockingly as if to say, 'I caught you.'
You look back at your incomprehensible book, trying to make your movements as natural as possible. But from the corner of your eye, you notice that he's coming over.
"Someone just turned this one in," he says, placing a well-loved book at the top of your pile. "I thought it would help you with your paper."
"Thank you." you beam, not realizing that your empty page of notes is shining up at him.
"It's not a problem." he smiles. 'You may want to move on from that one; it doesn't seem to be giving you anything useful."
He caught you. You feel that familiar, embarrassing heat creeping its way up your neck. You shake it away and look at him with a reassuring smile.
"Masterpieces take time." you chuckle, "What would Dr. Asshole say if he found out I rushed through this precious little paper of his."
He leans against the wood. "There's a difference between taking your time and getting distracted." the way he murmurs that last word sends the butterflies resting in your stomach flying all over the place. Their imaginary wings tickle your heart as they travel upwards.
"Just watch." you grin, taking a new book off of your pile. "I am about to make so much progress."
"I'll believe it when I see it," he says, turning to walk back to his table. You may not notice it, but the tips of his ears are flushed a deep shade of pink as he glances back at you from over his shoulder.
Determinedly, you read away. Jotting down little bits of information with a newfound energy. Cute library aides may be distracting, but passing this class is a bit more important at this moment.
You manage to get a decent amount of work done before your water bottle runs dry.
The warm air makes studying without it rather uncomfortable, so you grab the cylinder and take it to the water fountain near the bathroom.
By the time you come back to your spot, you notice a little blue notecard on your tabletop taped to a pack of gum.
Sorry again for running you over. I had to go to practice, but I hope this makes up for it. - K. Akaashi
In this moment, you couldn't care less about the gum. How could you when his phone number is carefully printed at the bottom of the card?
Tagging: @enchantedforest-network
#keiji akaashi#Akaashi x reader#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#x reader#Akaashi#akaashi keiji x reader#akaashi keiji#haikyuu fluff#hq x reader
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What career suites you best based on destiny matrix? (part 2/3) part 1
To find out what career suits you best and what can you do to succeed, we have to look at the number under the dollar sign.
note: there are so many different career choices and the options I'm listing here are just general examples based. you're free to choose any career, and hopefully, you don't feel pressured by this post to suddenly become philosopher.
8 - Justice
People with justice energy are successful in any field related to the rights and law. They are good at collecting, processing and summarising information. Intuitively they find the right solution from a variety of options.
The most suitable career:
lawyer, judge
accountant
referee
jeweller
saper
Challenges that affect career:
being too straightforward
depending on other people's opinions
being overly responsible and idealistic
9 - Hermit
People with hermit energy work are responsible and curios, they are always driven to expand their knowledge. They also prefer to work alone and doing solo projects than working in a team.
The most suitable career:
small business owner
philosopher
scientist
mentor in spiritual practices
archeologist
art critic
Challenges that affect career:
being shy/scared to ask for better pay
rejecting team work
not using your knowledge in practice
lack of ambitions
10 - Wheel of Fortune
People with wheel of fortune energy generally very lucky when it comes to money and career. Bun to achieve something they still must put in the work, being passive won't make them any good. They do especially well in freelance and in a career that doesn't have strict schedules.
The most suitable career:
freelance
PR-manager
record producer
croupier
editor
Challenges that affect career:
being passive
gambling
refusing to communicate with people
relying too much on fate
11 - Strength
People with strength energy have great spiritual and physical strength. However, only good intentions can bring them financial abundance and successful career.
The most suitable career:
sportsman
personal trainer
animal trainer
policeman, firefighter
life coach
Challenges that affect career:
not being able to rest
habit of postponing
stubbornness
12 - Hanged Man
People with this energy have an ability to see thing from different point of view. Also, they are very persistent, empathic and creative. Very important note: take credit for your work and don't be afraid to ask for money for your work!
The most suitable career:
acting
artist
rescue worker
medical worker
Challenges that affect career:
negative thinking
trying to help everyone around (and forgetting to help yourself first)
feeling guilty for your work
not being able to say 'no'
taking more responsibility than you can handle
13 - Death
People with this energy are more likely to experience major changes in their career throughout their life. For example, they can have degree and experience in engineering and then suddenly quit to start working as a fitness instructor. And they go through this transformation flawlessly.
The most suitable career:
surgeon
funeral director
auctioneer
esotericist
Challenges that affect career:
resisting changes
rushed decisions
advice: you might be into taboo and risky business and that's why you need to be conscious and careful when it comes to your decisions and choices.
14 - Temperance
People with temperance energy need work-life balance like no-one else, because only then they will be able to become successful. They are creative, diplomatic, peaceful and usually they are against "hustle lifestyle".
The most suitable career:
pharmacist
diplomat
healer
HR
cook
Challenges that affect career:
overindulgence
chaotic approach in work
challenges in maintain emotional stability
15 - Devil
People with devil energy have all traits of a charismatic leader. They also make very good investors, because they just know what to do with their money.
The most suitable career:
show business, entertainment
investing
gold miner
investigator
currency trader
helping people overcome addictions
Challenges that affect career:
fraud
greed
lack of consistency
having addictions
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hi!! i would love a jamie comforting the reader fic <33 i know this is so so vague LOL but i love a good comfort moment 🫶
so do i anon, this is right up my street! i hope this is similar to what you what looking for <3 this is partly based on some of the scenes at the recent west ham europe final which was just crazy | 1.8k words, tw fighting, reader gets caught & hurt in the middle, language, hurt/comfort
4-0 to Richmond was exactly the result that everyone needed; the players, the coaches, everyone surrounding the club. It had been a tricky few months, results coming and going, but to get a strong win against a mid-table club felt like a step in the right direction after the winter break. From your spot up in the owners’ box, you could see how ecstatic the boys’ celebrations were on the pitch, and you were practically matching them, jumping around with Rebecca, Keeley and the Higgins’.
During their lap around the pitch to clap the fans, Jamie waved at you like a madman while you blew him kisses, both giddy. He made a C with his hand, which always meant to meet him in the private staff car park as soon as possible, and you nodded furiously so that he’d see.
“Meeting Jamie in the car park?” Keeley asks, still grinning as you nod yet again, “I’ll meet Roy there too. It’ll probably only be a twenty minute team talk before they’re allowed a bit of family time after such a good fucking win.”
“Then let’s go!” you laugh, bending down to pick up your handbag.
Something hits you right in the forehead. Hard.
You stumble backwards with nowhere to go, ending up half on the floor, with one arm holding yourself up against your seat. Your vision was swimming, but you could make out an object by your feet that looked like a water bottle, but it must have been almost full to cause such an impact.
“Shit, babe!” Keeley was exclaiming, quick to crouch down to you, “You alright?”
“Yeah, yeah,” you murmur, still a little dazed, but your vision was clearing quickly. It had hit you in the temple, and the shock was staving off some of the pain for now, but you still wavered a little when you let Keeley help you up, “What the fuck?”
“I don’t-”
There was something else flying towards the box and this time, you and Keeley had the sense to duck down and cover your heads. Higgins was shielding his wife, you saw, while Rebecca was trying to usher people inside. When you risked a look downwards at the stands, there were a few men, clearly from the opposing team, who’d decided to make their frustrations with their team known, a small brawl underway between them and the unlucky Richmond fans they’d come across. It was only getting worse each passing second. Feeling something kick in within you, you turn and rush to the doorway, shouting for the security in the hospitality area to follow you back outside as you pointed towards what was happening.
It was at this point more and more security were alerted, and soon, there were enough of them to form a barrier between the two sets of fans, even though insults were still being thrown, along with the occasional plastic cup, water bottle and even one phone. Unable to drag yourself away until you knew the Richmond fans were safe, despite Keeley tugging at you to leave, you spot a woman with her little girl in the fray, looking scared out of their skin even as it died down. You manage to free yourself of Keeley as you step over the low barrier and make your way down the steps to them, pushing past whoever you needed to.
“Hey, this way, yeah?” you said to them softly, reaching for the little girl and picking her up as you carried her back towards the owners’ box along with her mother. There was a particularly angry opposition fan you passed on the way, and even though a security guard was holding him back, he still managed to get a grip on your arm, scratching down the length of it as you brought your arm up to keep the girl safe. Ignoring the fresh pain, you get them inside, then look back for any more people in need.
Higgins had clearly had the same thought as you, leading a group of young boys into the owners’ box to escape things. Soon enough, Rebecca was opening up the barrier and letting the Richmond fans leave through hospitality if they were close enough, with the rest slipping out through an exit behind them while security kept hold of the small group of awful fans. It was finally over, and whilst you’d lost the mother and girl in the crowd, you knew they were safe and it was enough.
“Y/N, are you alright?” Keeley asks, then hisses when you look up at her, “Fucking hell. We need to get you to one of the medics, now.”
“It’s not so bad, I promise. Probably looks worse,” you say, trying to reassure her and yourself, because by the look on her face you must have looked pretty bad, “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
Keeley shook her head solemnly as she linked arms with you, presumably to steer you towards a medic despite your protests. You’d been attending matches long before you started dating Jamie, but you’d still never experienced anything like that.
Jamie. You hope he hadn’t still been on the pitch when that started, because you knew he’d be beside himself.
“Where the fuck is she? Y/N? Fuckin’ get off me!”
Your heart drops into your stomach when you hear him, how frantic he sounds. You turn towards the staircase, now clear of fans again, and see him running up the steps, followed by a guard trying to stop him and failing miserably. He scans the room before his eyes land on you and his whole body deflates with relief as he jogs over. Keeley takes a step back as he takes you firmly in his arms, clutching you to him as tightly as he ever had. You can feel your own body relaxing under his touch.
“Fuck, Y/N,” Jamie speaks into your neck, still clinging to you just as you were to him, “We were jus’ leavin’ the pitch and then someone points and you’re gettin’ shit fuckin’ thrown at ya? Wait, did they get you, baby?”
He leans back to inspect you, eyes immediately zoning in on your forehead with misery in his eyes. You see his bottom lip quiver and you’re quick to try and pull him back into you but he’s stock still in shock as he stares. It must’ve been a really bad lump if this was the reaction you were getting.
“Jamie, I’m fine,” you say slowly, tipping his chin towards you to make sure he’s looking in your eyes rather than at your injury, “All fine. I promise.”
“Y’ not fuckin’ fine,” he murmurs, ghosting a finger over the bump. You shiver, “We’re gettin’ this checked, yeah?”
“That’s what I said,” Keeley pipes up, still standing off to the side, “Actually, I’ll go get someone. You two stay here, avoid everyone staring at…”
She trails off as she gestures vaguely to your forehead and you giggle at her as she leaves. So it definitely looked bad. You bring your own hand up to touch it, but immediately regret the pain that flares up in its wake. Jamie was quick to reach up and pull your own hand away, kissing each knuckle, then each fingertip. Slow, reverent. You melt into him as much as you can whilst standing up.
“Tried to climb the barriers,” he admits quietly, “I couldn’t see ya, jus’ all the pricks who started everythin’ and I needed to- I dunno. Some prick guard pulled me away.”
“I’m very glad he did,” you soothe, “You can’t score a hat trick and get in a fight all in the same day. Hope this doesn’t steal any of your praise away.”
“Couldn’t give a fuck about the match,” he says, frustrated, “You’re hurt, babe. Are you sure you’re okay?”
You wish he hadn’t asked twice. The adrenaline is wearing off and you’re starting to feel a bit of that panic you should have had in the moment creeping in. You nod your head yes, but don’t trust yourself to speak. Jamie understands immediately.
“Oh babe,” he says quietly, stroking a hand up and down your neck, “It’s okay. Promise. I‘m so sorry I wasn’t ‘ere for ya, like.”
“I’ll be fine,” you say, a little choked, enough that he’s pulling you into him again, wrapping you in another crushing hug. It’s just the right amount of pressure to make you feel better, breathing him in and holding him close.
“‘Course you’ll be fine. Got me, ain’t ya?” he says, pulling a laugh from you just as he’d hoped. He leads you over to one of the sofas near the window and sits you down, wrapping you right up in his arms again once your settled, knees tucked into his chest as he tugs you into his lap.
“Really proud of you,” you say quietly, and he just kisses the top of your head, clearly unwilling to discuss the match as he rubs a hand down your arm. But it’s the one some dickhead clawed at, and you can’t hide your wince. Jamie clocks it immediately and peers down at your arm.
“Little fuckers,” he snarls, but you know there isn’t any anger directed at you, “How’d they get this fuckin’ close to ya, love?”
Ah. You didn’t think he’d like this part of the story.
“There was this little girl and her mum, down in the stands. I couldn’t just leave them there, Jamie,” you stare up at him, almost pleading for him to understand, “I grabbed them and brought them out through here. I know, it was stupid, but-”
The tears in his eyes stop you from continuing. You put a hand on his face but he shakes you away, clearing his throat.
“Jus’ don’t know how I got meself such a fuckin’ gem,” he says, laughing wetly at himself, “I wish you hadn’t got fuckin’ hurt, god, but I jus’- you’re so good, you know?”
You glow under his praise, settling into his side so he can’t see you grinning at his words. You tug his arm around you and place a series of kisses along his bicep and back down again.
“You would’ve done the same,” you say, meaning every word, “You’re good too, Jamie.”
“Guess I must be,” he agrees breathily, pressing kiss after kiss into the top of your head, “I’ll make sure I am for you, y’ know? And I’ll take care of ya too, y’ know that right?”
“Yeah I know, Jamie.”
You sink even further into his embrace, aimlessly hoping that the medic never comes and that you might just be able to stay like this forever.
---
aaah if you read this far i love you!! i've been away in london so i'm sorry for the inactivity - i will catch up on asks tomorrow and am posting this right before i sleep so i am at least feeding you some content!! and then lots of drabbles to come this weekend <3 <3
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt#ted lasso x reader#ted lasso#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt oneshot#jamie tartt fluff#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt imagine#busy week drabbles!#like real people queue
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I would like to thank that one band and that one hockey player for single-handedly giving me reasons to keep going when I had 'cry + feel pathetic + hate yourself' scheduled on my calendar from this day forward until the end of everything
#sure BC may be my current obsession and my number one reason to keep going but lisstennnnn#i have loved this man since. idk. 2004? 2005? in any case that's like. twenty fucking years. more than half of my stupid cursed life#he's probably gonna retire soon but for next season he's coming back to play in his home team as the captain and as one of the owners#''as one of the owners'' is crucial here because that allows him to play with practically no salary#let me repeat that for you: he will play with no salary. they will not pay him for playing next season#he'll play for free. out of love for his team 😭😭😭😭😭😭#i have and will never love a man more than i love him. the love of my entire life. you don't understandddddd#edit. did i mention his team is not even in the top division? because yeah#he's in the triple gold club and he's coming back to play in the 2nd highest league in the country. he is unreal
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Between coffee and letters
Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader
Summary: Maybe Y/N is actyally noticed by someone...
Warnings: Nothing that I'm aware off, maybe a few grammatical mistakes, but other than that...idk
Word Count: 1.3k
The birds sang loudly and clearly that November morning. Y/N, a sweet and shy girl, woke up to the beautiful melody. She could feel the cold that had set in since the previous month in Ann Arbor, Michigan. It was Saturday, meaning she had to go to work at Poindexter Coffee, a café where many university students spent their free time.
Y/N got up and made her bed, ensuring the small room she shared with her best friend stayed neat. She gathered her belongings and headed to the bathroom to get ready. She braided her long hair into two braids, put on black leggings, a white long-sleeved sweater, and boots to keep warm in the chilly weather. Once ready, she went back to her room, grabbed her bag, and headed out.
Leaving her dorm, Y/N walked to the café, where she always felt at peace. She arrived at 8:30 a.m., greeted Ray, the owner of Poindexter, and took her place at the cash register. After a few hours into her shift, a tall guy with curly hair and eyes as blue as the sky entered the café. Y/N knew him as Luke from the classes they shared. She found him handsome and knew he was an incredibly kind guy.
“Y/N/N! Good morning. I’d like a cappuccino to go,” Luke said, flashing his characteristic playful smile.
“Sure, I’ll have it ready right away,” Y/N replied, offering a shy smile in return.
She rang him up and went to prepare his order. When she called Luke to pick up his coffee, he grabbed it and handed her a small piece of paper before leaving, flashing her another smile.
Y/N, confused, opened the small note, which read: “Next Saturday. You, me, and a picnic in the park. Are you down?”
She felt the heat rise to her cheeks, almost certain her face was as red as a tomato. “This must be a dream,” she thought. She was so used to being ignored by guys. She had always been shy and kept to herself, her nose usually buried in books, dreaming of a romance like the ones she read about.
“Y/N! Are you listening, girl?” Ray’s voice snapped her out of her daze. She looked at him, startled. “It’s time for you to leave,” Ray said with a sweet smile that reminded her of her grandfather.
“Oh…right!” she replied, offering a nervous smile. “See you Monday, Ray,” she said, hurrying to the employee break room to grab her things. She took off her apron, then left the café.
To calm her racing thoughts, Y/N decided to walk to Felch Park, just a few blocks away. As she walked, she overanalyzed everything that had happened with Luke. It seemed impossible that such a nice guy would be interested in her. “What if it’s a joke?” she kept asking herself. Sitting on a bench in the park, she watched as the leaves fell from the trees, drifting freely through the air.
Meanwhile, Luke headed to Yost Stadium for hockey practice after picking up his coffee. He was one of the best players on the university team. Upon entering the stadium, he met up with his friends.
“Luke! Did you tell Y/N, or did you chicken out again?” Ethan asked.
“Well, I told her…sort of, but not directly,” Luke admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. His friends looked at him in confusion, so he explained everything.
“Now, I just have to wait for her answer,” he finished, his cheeks turning pink.
Their coach came into the locker room, calling the boys out to the ice. Before heading out, Luke quickly sent Y/N a text: “Hey, I hope I didn’t catch you off guard with the note :)” He sighed, put his phone down, and joined his team on the ice.
Y/N heard the notification, and her heart began to race. “What should I even say?” she wondered, starting to panic. This was all too new for her. “Breathe, just tell him you’d love to go.” Taking a deep breath, she unlocked her phone and replied:
“Hi! Don’t worry, it wasn’t a problem, haha. Honestly, I’d love to go out with you :)”
Now, all she had to do was wait, her heart pounding in her chest. Still sitting on the park bench, Y/N marveled at how unexpected this was. Sure, some guys had shown interest before, but no one had ever actually invited her on a date. That only happened in her daydreams.
After several minutes with no reply, Y/N decided to head back to her dorm to finish her assignments for the week and to make sure she was free—just in case the date was real—next Saturday.
Hours later, after returning to her room, Y/N’s phone chimed, sending butterflies fluttering in her stomach. The message read, “So, I’ll pick you up after your shift on Saturday ;)”
With just that message, Y/N melted, unable to wipe the sweet smile from her face.
Saturday
Luke woke up feeling more than happy, even though the sky was gray and cloudy, and the air smelled damp—suggesting rain or, worse, snow. He was nervous, but he still put on his nicest casual clothes, sprayed on some cologne, and headed to Poindexter to pick up Y/N.
On the other hand, Y/N woke up earlier than usual to dress nicely but appropriately for the weather. She was on edge, thinking, “What if he doesn’t like me in the end?” “What if he regrets asking me out?”
She shook her head, trying to clear away the bad thoughts. Once she was ready, she grabbed her bag and ran out the door, realizing she was already running late. It was 8:15 a.m., and she couldn’t afford to be late for work—Ray would definitely notice.
After her shift, both Luke and Y/N were filled with anticipation. Luke entered the café just as Y/N was leaving, ready for the short walk to the park where she had been just the week before.
“Hey! Ready to go?” Luke asked, giving her a hug.
“Yeah, we can go now,” Y/N replied, blushing as she returned the hug.
Luke took her hand, and together they walked to the park.
When they arrived, they found a spot under a tree to sit, sheltered from the brief moments of sunlight peeking through the gray winter clouds.
“I forgot to ask what you like, so I hope ham and cheese sandwiches are okay,” Luke said with a nervous laugh, blushing slightly.
“They’re perfect, Luke. Thank you,” Y/N smiled, giving him a light pat on the arm.
As they talked, exchanging stories, anecdotes, and little details about their lives, they both felt their connection deepening. Luke thought, “Why didn’t I ask her out sooner?” and Y/N mused, “This is going even better than I imagined.”
Before they knew it, the afternoon had flown by. “I think we should head back; it’s getting late,” Luke said, a hint of sadness in his voice.
“Yeah…we should,” Y/N agreed, her smile mirroring his sadness. They packed up and began the walk back to her dorm.
“I had a fantastic day, Luke. Thank you so much for everything,” Y/N said sweetly.
“I did too,” Luke replied, smiling back. “And thank you for agreeing to go out with me,” he added, giving her a small kiss on the cheek, leaving her blushing.
After saying goodbye, Y/N returned to her room, changed into her pajamas, and lay down on her bed, unable to stop smiling. Staring at the ceiling, she imagined what the future might hold with Luke. Suddenly, her phone chimed: “Sleep well, princess <3”
Y/N went to sleep with a huge smile, thinking, “Finally, someone notices me.”
#luke hughes blurb#nhl imagine#luke hughes fic#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes x reader#new jersey devils#lh43#lh43 x reader#hockey imagine
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heaven / au
You thought he was ugly when you first started. No one admits when they find someone unattractive. Something about it being too cynical and mean. And, sure, you heavily subscribed to the notion of objectivity — beauty is in the eye of its beholder. You could get behind that, especially considering that you did not reckon yourself to be the poster child of an ethereal vision. But, simply put, you did not behold him as such for the first few months.
The first few months.
Looking back, maybe you were being too hard headed. Ugly was probably not the right word to use. You didn’t care then, you don’t care now. You don’t care anymore. Frankly.
“Isagi Yoichi,” he introduced himself as — holding a cordial hand out to you as you awkwardly sat at your assigned desk. You didn’t know whether to stand up and shake it, or remain still. You remember making a weird movement as though you were about to get up, but, ultimately, you meet his eyes sitting down — craning your head.
He was not smiling. If anything it looked as though he was forced to introduce himself to you. He was thirty years old, six years your senior.
“L/n Y/n,” you murmured.
And that was that. For the first few weeks.
You still lived with your mother. As a result, you had access to free lunches. The others on your team did not — or, could not — afford such a luxury of having the time to make theirs. So, often, you found yourself going out with them at noon to a nearby hole in the wall place which sold freshly made sandwiches along with other items.
You remember not even noticing Isagi-san’s presence in the group. Not until he waves his hand in front of your face as you blankly stare at the walls covered in the shop owner’s family pictures. They were from Portugal.
“You want anything?” He had asked you.
Shyly, you had responded, “Uhm, no. I brought lunch.”
Isagi-san hadn’t pushed there, which you were relieved of. Making conversation with strangers was never your strong suit. But, once everyone had procured their lunches and you took a step out of the shop, he was right behind you.
You had felt something on your head. It was his hand. In it, a paper bag. Sheepishly, you had looked up and he had gently smiled down at you, handing it over.
“Their banana bread is great.”
Before you could have gotten a word out, he was already with the others.
A few weeks pass. Snow starts to fall. You got into an argument with your mother over your favourite red scarf she donated without consulting you. You ended up buying the same one for double its price, because some idiotic celebrity wore it once during a random November evening — the night of their divorce.
You are a terrible person. You think. But everyone around you thinks you are an airhead who is too stupid to be evil.
“What’s your favourite sport?” Haiba-san, a colleague of yours asks. He is standing by your cubicle, which is next to the personal coffee machine your team purchased years ago (Your office was closed concept, no one could enter without a key card. It is also why many various pictures of Isagi-san decorate a colleague of yours’ desk).
You don’t get the chance to answer. Haiba-san is already talking over you. You let him. You are better than him.
“Yoichi’s crazy about football. It’s an illness,” he jokes. Isagi-san stands a foot away, and your eyes flicker towards his frame. He’s already on his feet, shoving Haiba with a cackle. You let them argue for a while, playing the role of their captive audience. You are quite good at doing so, with all your years of practice.
Until, Isagi-san asks, “Do you play?”
He asks it softly, nothing like Haiba-san. You feel a bit sweaty despite it being below zero degrees celsius outside. Shyly, you shake your head — fearing your voice will crack if you try talking.
Isagi-san hovers, today. He doesn’t leave you to your peace like the day he bought you banana bread.
“Anything else?”
And you don’t know what compels you to answer. During the moment, you’d chalked it up to being too nervous to not give him an answer. Looking back, deep down, you knew you wanted to impress Isagi-san. He looked so interested — but not the way Haiba-san was, for his own self-satisfaction.
“I… used to play badminton… in high-school.” You’d whispered, not expecting any sort of reaction.
Isagi-san’s eyes had widened, and he’d made himself comfortable on a chair outside your cubicle.
“That’s cool,” he says, “You still play?”
You looked down at your lap like an idiot and shrugged your shoulders. You’re dumber than a dog. “Sometimes, when the weather is warm.”
Your petite colleague, Mari-san, interrupts the peaceful silence with an outlandish out of character statement. “I like hockey. Just watch a bunch of big dudes bully each other on ice. Very North American.”
You remember feeling very comfortable that day. That was the first time you felt like you belonged.
It didn’t snow much last year. It concerned you heavily. Was the Earth dying? What was the point of you working? You still had student loans to pay. What would it even matter if you died the next day? Hour? Minute? Second?
Papers drop down onto your desk. You jumped and turned down the audiobook you were listening to: All About Love by Bell Hooks.
“L/n-chan, could you please finish this for me? Please?” Mari-san’s pretty voice and pretty face and pretty eyes plead with you. And how were you to refuse a beautiful woman?
“Uh, sure,” you answered through a mouthful of your burrito. Never mind that it was lunch. You were new here, so you had to make your mark.
Your work extends into the evening. It feels nice, though. You don’t have much plans for Friday night. Sure, you had planned on heading home, taking a warm shower, eating a salad-sized bowl of pasta and touching yourself to a disgustingly cliche erotica — but you could do that any time. Saturday morning, for example.
A hand touches your shoulder. You almost launch out of your seat and hit the culprit right in the face. A familiar grunt reaches your ears. Then your eyes.
“Isagi-san,” you exclaim, “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I got scared.”
He only waves a hand and laughs. You look away, embarrassed. It was a bit ominous with the office lights automatically dimmed.
When he stands back up, wipes the tears that formed in the corner of his eyes and smiles down at you, he only but corrects the way you called him. “Yoichi.”
You didn’t know if it was because of the environment or if it was because you were ovulating, but Isagi-san looked particularly delicious in low lighting. With his sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, the few buttons of his top undone at the top, and his usually kept hair ruffled after a long, gruelling day of work — you felt your stomach twist.
You feel gross.
“Seems like we’re both stuck doing overtime.” He jokes. You force a smile and internally kill yourself a million times, in a million different ways.
You sense his eyes gravitate to your monitors. On one, you were working on the few files Mari-san requested help with. On the other, a generic Tokyo News Channel plays, repeating the same news over and over again.
“The news?”
“It’s… nostalgic.”
Isagi-san smiles again, and you feel your hands sweat when he drags a chair to sit next to you.
“You’re a strange girl.” He sighs, “Let me help you.”
“I—,” Isagi-san doesn’t let you finish.
“Before the last train leaves.”
You look at him and try to think of any way to get him to leave. But the prospect of going home a little earlier than intended, and smelling his cologne for a while longer were tempting offers, indeed.
“Uhm… thanks.”
It is zero degrees in January and is raining when you leave. It is the end of the World but you run behind Isagi-san who holds your hand through the train station. The red scarf you adamantly refused to get rid of is wrapped around your neck and almost suffocates you from all of the hysteria. But you still cannot help but smile.
“Come on, come on, we’re gonna miss it!” Isagi-san hollers, and you laugh as he drags you as though you are his favourite bag.
He stops near the elevator which takes you up to the platform of the train and pales at the size of the crowd.
“Shit.”
Frantically, you look around, hoping to be of some use. It’s when you notice.
“S—Stairs!”
Isagi-san whips his head around to look at you and grins. Tugging you along, you cannot help but feel oddly giddy that you were of some use to him.
It feels nice. To be heard.
When you finally board the train with four minutes to spare (the conductor deciding to be a bit generous) you practically sink into the first empty window seat you spot. Isagi-san takes the one across from you. You look up at each other, sighing, then laugh.
Isagi-san looks very pretty with tears in his eyes from joy. You think this is the first time you’ve found a man attractive for all he is.
“What are you listening to?”
His voice is the same softness as it was all those months ago. You did not even notice you were still wearing your wireless earbuds. You also did not know why you grew so damn nervous all of a sudden in front of Isagi-san of all people.
“PJ Harvey…”
“An American artist?”
“I… like the melodies.”
He hums. You hold your breath, then you criticise yourself for holding your breath.
“Send me a playlist of her best, you’ve intrigued me.”
You can only nod. When the conductor announces that there is only a minute until departure, Isagi-san gets up and walks in the aisle.
“Get home safe, Y/n.”
Your eyes widen and you cannot help but involuntarily ask him, “This.. is not your train, Isagi-san?”
The man stills for a second. Then he only offers you a smile.
“Ah, nah. I take another line. It leaves in ten minutes. Thought I’d make sure you didn’t miss yours.”
You blink, not knowing what to say. And because Isagi-san is Isagi-san and he knows you and you know him, he takes the initiative to leave for you.
“Goodnight!”
The entire train ride home, you remember murmuring goodbye in twenty different tones, none of them the right one.
It only took you three nights and four days to realise: You think you like Yoichi. You don't think you've ever liked anyone before. There was Yamada-senpai in elementary school, but he made fun of your braces in front of all of his friends and ever since then you've sworn off on ever giving your heart to a filthy man.
You hate yourself. You can't help but say,
“H—Hello!”
When Isagi-san walks in. And he only ignores you. He looks dejected, like he has had a long night. You can only wonder about the possibility.
“Hey,"
Haiba-san thankfully asks the question which forms in your mind when Isagi-san takes his laptop from his cubicle, “Where are you heading, Isagi?!”
“Ah, I have a ton of work to do. Gonna sit in one of the offices outside.”
You think you like Isagi. He won’t spare you another glance.
Two weeks pass by. You tried to convince yourself you don't like Isagi-san. But then he wheels up into your cubicle again during lunch and acts as though nothing is wrong in the universe. You have been thinking about him nonstop for three hundred and thirty six hours and he treats you like you are his favourite bag. Still. Nothing has changed for him. Everything has, for you.
“What book is that?” He asks, eyeing the novel on your desk. You want to bash his skull in.
“Heaven by Kawakami.”
“I’ve heard of this.”
You want to hold his hand again. He picks it up.
“Is it any good?”
You want to stab his leg.
“Uhm, yeah, so far. A bit dark and disturbing, if you can handle it.”
You want to kiss his cheeks.
“Do you mind?”
You want to punch his dad.
“Go ahead.”
You want to never let him go.
The next day, after your spiral, he messages you on your work phone.
>> Ninomiya is terrible.
>> In Heaven.
Your heart races. You read his messages over and over again. You know it's small. You know it's terrible. You know this will hurt you. And it does.
In your eleventh month of working, you eavesdrop on Isagi-san and Haiba-san's conversation. Well, you do not really eavesdrop. More like they have their conversation right in front of your general vicinity. Half of you wonder if they know you even exist. Or, maybe, they care too little about your existence to deem you not a threat to their private gossip.
Isagi-san has a girl he likes.
“I keep telling her, I’m here for her, as a friend, you know. She’s just hung up on him.”
Isagi-san has a girl he likes.
“Still, you shouldn’t be harming yourself by doing this.”
Isagi-san has a girl he likes.
“What’s your opinion, L/n?”
You don't know why you were born this stupid. It was a bit cruel of God to do this.
“I… don’t know.”
Isagi-san is so soft with you. So gentle and sweet. He does not even realise what he's done, “You don’t have any advice?”
You can only nod, “I… wouldn’t know.”
They carry on their conversation. You leave. You don't see Isagi-san the rest of the week, and you are glad you don't.
Come three weeks, you grow anxious. You confide in Haiba-san.
“Where’s Isagi-san?”
“You didn’t know? He’s going to Europe for vacation.”
You don’t know why the news hits you as hard as it does. Why didn’t he tell you? Were you and Isagi even close enough to be considered friends? At times, he could be so sweet — enough for you to think that sweetness was only reserved for you. At others, he could be so cruel, always keeping you at an arm’s length from his life. Were you that untrustworthy to be let in? Were you that inexperienced he thought you stupid to understand? You were six years his junior — but you knew the world. You’ve known about it since you were twelve. Everyone in your life has deemed you dumb ever since you were a child. But you knew what you wanted and how you wanted it — no one in the entire universe could convince you otherwise. Not your mother, your brothers, your friends, or Yoichi.
And maybe that’s why the two of you could never work.
You cried for the first time that year. You have no one left to love. Bitter, cold and alone.
It feels like the End Of The World in July.
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Bokuto would be the type to never be able to say no to you, with just one look into your eyes he will give you the world. Being the manager becomes much easier when MSBY Black Jackals’s Jokester suddenly couldn't say no under your watch…
Warnings: Implied sexual frustration (Bokuto)
•••••••
After five months of training, Bokuto can firmly agree that whenever you are around he prays to God that he does not grow a hard on. Even with something as simple as a “Bokuto come here please” he will arrive kneeling ready to do what you command. You can say he is as down bad as a puppy is for their owner. But it is good to note that the two of you are not together…yet.
“Bokuto?” you called. Like clockwork his head turns towards your direction and starts to walk your way. Suddenly he was right behind you hovering, him being a head taller than you almost overshadowing you with his body. His broad shoulders could simply enclose you and trap you, at least that is what Bokuto is daydreaming about. Because by the God devine you were hot. As he was spacing out thinking of the ways to bend you over, he was brought back to reality by your voice. “Hello?” you called again.
“Uh. Yea?” He replied. Still somewhat dazed just by the fact you called his name. Boy he was so in love with you. “Will you be free this weekend?” you asked. He shook his head no and asked as to why you would need him during the weekend. “I need a hand moving to the apartment near here, and as of the moment you are the only one I know that has a car…if it's okay…” you asked shyly as if shame creepied it way to your throat to not be able to breathe. Bokuto only said alright and see you later. He may be in love with you but boy was he shy.
He walked his way towards the team, only to be stopped by Hinata with a tap on the shoulder. With a turn of the head, Bokuto asked Hinata what he needed. “Bokuto did you forget? We have a Physical Therapy session this weekend.” Bokuto only nodded. Hinata asked again “But Bokuto, how will you help y/n move when you would be in Physical Therapy the whole day…” Then it hit Bokuto like a truck. He had said yes to two things. Where he is needed at two places at once.
Shit.
How was he going to bring this up to you, as he was thinking of ways to say no to you. He looks over to you holding your ipad to your chest and to your cute face. Then it hit him in the head. He was never going to say no to you. So he took a deep breath, preparing himself to be sore for the rest of the following two weeks.
But for you? He would rather make you sore.
After the following days he was training harder because for some reason, he had been pent up from just the thought of…well you. Just the thought of being close to you is good enough to make this man come to his knees and worship the very soil you step on. As the day comes, you move onto your new apartment near the gymnasium where the rest of the team practice. Bokuto becomes more restless and trains more to overwork himself to the point he is sore almost everyday. He only wished he was sore for other reasons…
The day he would help you move, he woke up to his body hurting as if he got hit by a truck and left there to die. I mean, it’s just a little soreness what's the worst that could happen. Right?
The drive to your old apartment took awhile because of the directions, but after he arrived it was smooth sailing from your house to the apartment complex you would be staying. When he got to the apartment complex following your instructions, Bokuto realized that your apartment was just a few blocks from his. After a second, you turned to Bokuto and said “Can you help me with the boxes?”
With those words Bokuto knew to say no and run, but because of you. He will never say no, even if his body were to give out in the middle of the stairwell he knew at least he got to see you today. With a nod he picked up the boxes and walked to your apartment.
After what felt like days but were merely just two hours of getting the box from the car to the apartment, you jumped at your coach to finally rest your body from the labor of today. Your head laid back at the headboard of the coach, slightly lifting your shirt showing your tummy which is okay but in the poor case of Bokuto, all the blood and brain cells left in his brain have surely gone down below to his dick. Because with the simple sight of your tummy the man was folding. Then you raise your arms to stretch your body and the moment you made that little moan as your stretch all Bokuto could do was feel the tightness of his pants. It was almost painful. Good thing his shirt was long enough to cover it, or less you would think he was a pervert. I mean, you wouldn't be wrong.
You look over to see him just playing with the hems of his shirt, not thinking much about it. You stand up and grab his arm to pull him into the small coach with you. Well to be fair it was a fairly middle sized coach for you, but for a man of Bokuto's size it was small. The moment you grabbed his hand he had frozen in place. Boy was this man whipped for you.
Once you were both seated in the coach. You look over at him, and you could see that he was shifting his weight, from his usual left side to his right side more. Meaning he had either hurted himself or he was sore from practice. You felt guilty. I mean you sort of were the one to ask him to help you on his day off. But you thought, why didn't he say no?
“Hey…Bokuto?” you sort of called him in a whisper. After a moment, you finally register how close the two of you are. Your legs draped over his and your chest close to his, it was almost sinful. But boy was Bokuto trying his hardest…well not to be hard.
“Yea?” he stutters nervously, after a moment. You asked him why he agreed to helping you knowing that he is already sore and hurt from training? He simply smiled and looked deeply into your eyes then said, “Because it’s hard to say no to someone you like” maybe it was the exhaustion or maybe it was because he has nothing to lose or maybe it was because he is so close to you that something in him snapped. He had confessed to you right now and there was no looking back.
The look on your face is disbelief and relief. You had held feelings for the spiker for the past year you have been manager at the MSBY Black Jackal, but you are kind of sad he got to confess first. You had planned to at least have given him dinner first but that can wait for later. As your head spun around Bokuto grew more anxious at your silence,
“Listen, Y/N if you…if you don't feel the same I understand I will take my leave. The last thing I want is to make you uncom-” He gets cut off by…your lips? Wait. what?
You had kissed him, as he was lifting his body to stand up. You grab his shirt and pull him down for a kiss, the mere fact it takes both of your hands to pull him down was amazing. The kiss felt like the heavens have greeted Bokuto, after the pause you pull away opening your mouth to speak. Only to be shut up by Bokuto’s lips on your tilting his head to deepen the kiss between the two of you. Savoring every flavor of your lips he pulls away,
“So…does that answer your question if I like you or not?” you say out of breath and feeling the world spin as you hold him tight by his collar. The only thing he did was give you a peck and a nod yes. After a beat of staring at each other's eyes. You ask,
“Do you maybe…wanna go out sometime?” without any reconsideration or hesitation Bokuto said yes. Because who is he to say no to you, the only one to make this man melt with the touch of your hand.
But little did you know, sooner or later you would be the one saying yes to his question. But this time he would be on one knee…with a ring.
#x reader#bokuto x reader#haikyuu bokuto#hq bokuto#bokuto koutarou#bokuto koutaro x reader#haikyuu#fluff#fanfic#18+ mdni#mdni#kissing
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LIFE'S HARD WHEN YOU'RE INLOVE ─
─ WITH RIN ITOSHI !!
━ 5:00 AM
Reo might think it's a miracle! You're up at 5:00 AM? Woah!
Your sleep consists of a total of 8 hours, plus whatever extra time you have. But today you sacrificed ONE hour, isn't that weird. WHY ARE YOU UP?
Yeah, you asked yourself that quite a lot this morning, staring at the ceiling for quite a bit until you got up, gave Choki your morning talk, and then grabbed the book.
For the first time, you're actually going to read it! And not analyze it for "love".
For some reason, you've felt more.. alive? Normally you always felt like, just there. You're alive and living, just there. But ever since these weird heart condition moments, uncontrollable eyes that always landed on this boy. Why did he change your life? Why does it make your life feel so.. pink? Before it was just gray.
This mysterious boy somehow gave a bit of light to your gray life.
Why? You just don't understand it, but you kinda like it. What would happen if you spoke to him? Now that might make your heart condition worse, your eyes might roll out your head and kaboom! Your brain explodes.
Yeah, maybe not speak to him, but sometimes you fantasize about it a bit.
Mysterious boy, what will you do?
You sighed at your thoughts and just read the book. The book that started it all.
Achoo!
The poor boy rubbed his nose. Is it the cold weather, or is someone thinking about him?
Rin Itoshi ignored it though. The big day was soon, in 24 hours he would be on that field in front of a bunch of eyes, proving that he could be the best out there. Proving to his brother how much better he's gotten. To prove to him that he can destroy him.
So that's why, at 5:00 AM for this whole week Rin Itoshi started his day off with a morning jog, then began his practicing.
He doesn't have time for "breaks". So why the hell does Isagi Yoichi not get the hint to stop with these silly notes.
If looks could burn, the crumbled-up paper would burn away right in his hand.
Rin had decided that to not throw away these notes, rather keep them for Isagi, before the big game to ask him what is his problem.
Rin always gave him weird looks when the team but Isagi never really got the hint. Isagi thought it was normal for him.
I mean it's Rin..
He sighed at the memories and thoughts and began is morning jog, stuffing the notes in his bag.
Rin's jog lasts about an hour, then after the jog, he makes his way back home to bathe and get ready for school.
He doesn't really communicate with anyone at home, maybe greets his parents for the morning, completely ignoring his brother as normal.
Sae and Rin attend different schools simply because, before he came back to Japan, he looked at schools who had a great football team. Obviously, to no one surprise, it was a school that Rin doesn't attend.
The brothers don't communicate, not ever. Even being in the same household it's like the other one isn't there. They completely blanked each other out of their mind.
In Rin's world, only he exists. No one else.
So of course, at 7:21 AM he didn't notice the girl from afar whose eyes had uncontrollably landed on him. Hm, at least he made it to school.
As soon as your friends entered the classroom, they met you reading a book.
Meguru was the first to run up to you, snatching the book out of your hand.
A sigh left your lips, as you tried to grab it back.
"Ooou! If there’s a way to put an end to these feelings that burst into my world, then I don’t want to know it. Woah!" Meguru read out loud
"MEGURU GIMMIE BACK MY BOOK!" You yelled, trying to snatch it back. He ran back towards Yoichi, who was still at the door.
He sighed as Meguru tried to hide behind him, with you in front of him.
At least he's getting a free hug? Seems like this is an everyday routine with his friends. Though, he felt bad for you so he got back your book for you.
"Hey! I was reading that!" Meguru argued. He ignored the boy behind him and gave back the book to its rightful owner, you.
"Thank you, Yoichi." You said, giving him a hug, with one hand, the other hand held the book.
Meguru came out from behind the boy and made his way towards you but you thought faster, hugging the book. That's your no-no zone! Meguru can't touch there.
He formed a pout, accepting his defeat.
Your three made it to your desks. The classroom wasn't filled as yet, only person being there was the boy. Of course, you didn't notice him, too in your book.
When Meguru and Yoichi entered the classroom, such things as other students in the classroom weren't on your mind. But then you noticed that he was indeed in the classroom when Yoichi.. called him..
You sat at your desk, witnessing the interaction between the boys. All that's on your mind was that he saw you, and heard you. Embarrassing? Yes.
That means originally, you were alone in this classroom with him.. and you didn't even notice.
Completely blanking out of the conversation, you stared at your desk trying to hide your blush.
What a morning!
Rin on the other hand, he noticed you only because of your loud mouth, nothing else. He was listening to music on his phone, but he paused it to look at a video. In doing so, between the pause he heard you. That's all.
And right now, he found it strange that now you're as quiet as a mouse. Not his problem though. They were talking about football anyway, your knowledge of that topic is about zero percent he's sure.
━ 12:31 PM
"Y/N!" A familiar voice called out to you.
It was Hyoma!
"Hyoma, hi!" He ran up to you with a scrunchie.
You suddenly got the memo. Of course, he would let you touch his hair. You always played in it anyways.
"I would love to tie your hair up for you Hyo but you're a bit tall as of right now." You stated.
Normally, he would be sitting but you both are in the middle of the hall. Then an idea popped into your mind.
"Wait lemme get on you."
"What."
"On your back, duh." You clarified.
"Oh." He answered back.
Hyoma turned around, and got a bit low for you as you hopped on him.
He gave you the scrunchie and you got to work. of course, both of you know that he himself can tie his own hair but who are you to turn down an opportunity to get your hands in his hair? and who would he be to turn down an opportunity to have you in his hair again?
You both may look silly in the hall but happy smiles were plastered on your faces.
"Chigiri? I didn't know you had your own personal hairstylist. Stylish." A male with REALLY LONG HAIR passed by and commented.
Woah, you're jealous of it.
"He's your friend Hyo?" You asked him.
"Yeah, he's on the team." He answered back.
A surprised look found its way onto your face after hearing that. Someone like him should be a model..
You finished up with your friend's hair, the model on the other hand was admiring your work.
"I say, this hairstyle is quite stylish." He commented as you came off Hyoma's back.
"Thank you, kind sir!" You said, giggling at your own joke.
The male held his hand up to his chest, showing off his painted nails, and began speaking.
"My name is Jyubei Aryu, what yours might be?" Aryu asked.
You copied his actions in a friendly manner and introduced yourself.
"Very nice to meet you Aryu! My name is Y/N L/N."
"Quite nice to meet you as well. The ways in which your hands styled Chigiri's hair were amazing, do tell me your secret, L/N."
"Erm, Of course, sir!" You.. told him. You don't know how to communicate with him.
"Aryu I think it's time for practice now." Hyoma brought up.
Aryu nodded at his words and began to walk away, leaving behind sparkles in his trail. Wow..
"Bye Hyoma!" You exclaimed, hugging him for a bit before, walking away.
Either that team is secretly a model agency or everyone there looks like models.
They are also very much tall. It's kinda scary, you almost broke your neck looking up to that Aryu guy. How tall is he?
Now, you're kinda excited to see this match tomorrow.
## LIFE'S HARD WHEN YOU'RE INLOVE. --
╴“ WITH RIN ITOSHI?? „
ฅ^._.^ฅ : some things about y/n !! she mostly sleeps through the day, only does stuff IF needed !! with her given gift of being effortlessly smart , all she does in her free time is : nap , eat , sleep. hmm what if.. one day y/n develops a crush and now has to ACTUALLY work to achieve a goal ? : date rin itoshi !!
7 // 9
TAGLIST: @deezy12299 @kuroronana @khoiyyu @swagkittybear @shidousprincess @starbarfbunni @jealovsie (OPEN)
! if you didn't get tag, that means your acc didn't show up :(
-`♥︎´- for this story, i'm trying a something new, which includes words/phrases, foods and hometowns from japan and germany. if there's any errors please point it out !
-`♥︎´- word count : 1.4K
#imraeswork#imraespace -♡#rin itoshi#blue lock#rin itoshi x reader#rin x reader#blue lock x reader#rin itoshi x you#rin itoshi x y/n#meguru bachira#isagi yoichi#chigiri hyoma#nagi seishiro#reo mikage#blue lock smau#smau#rin itoshi smau#fluff#crack#angst#rin smau#itoshi#x reader#x female reader#rin itoshi fluff#bllk#bllk x reader#bllk kaiser#rin itoshi crack#rin itoshi angst
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