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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 month ago

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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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achilles-rage · 1 month ago

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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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mapiforpresident · 5 months ago

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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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reiderwriter · 11 months ago

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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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loviingpedri · 1 year ago

Text

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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blackdollette · 5 months ago

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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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lou-struck · 10 months ago

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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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astrodice · 1 month ago

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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

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

#matrix of destiny #numerology #destiny matrix #tarotblr #tarot #tarot cards

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benedictscanvas · 1 year ago

Note

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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theflyingfeeling · 3 months ago

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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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its-not-that-weird-blog · 2 months ago

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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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tenjiiku · 6 months ago

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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.

#writing #isagi yoichi x female reader #isagi yochi x reader

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imraespace · 3 months ago

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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

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misshoneyimhome · 7 months ago

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But with three of us, honey, it's a sideshow I William Nylander & Matthew Knies - Part two

Summary; A quote by Hector Urquhart goes "One man's rubbish may be another's treasure" - however, what happens, when the first man realises that it wasn't rubbish after all?

Other notes: Alrighty babes, so here's the continuation (yes, there will be a part three) of the threesome drama I've been imagining 🙃 And if you notice me alternating between the good guy and the bad guy, it's because I'm debating with myself along the way 😉 Anyway, I hope you still find it enjoyable 🤍

Tropes & Warnings; William Nylander x Matthew Knies x reader, Friends to lovers; jealousy; 18+ smut; fingering, protected penetrative sex (p in v); bloody nose, mild "fighting";

Word count; 6.2K+

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @justwanderingbutneverlost @Fortheloveofnylander

➼｡ﾟ

The game against the Tampa Bay Lightning turned out to be incredibly frustrating and verging on awful for the Leafs. They just didn’t perform at their best, and the Lightning quickly gained the upper hand. Only Auston’s power play goals offered a glimmer of hope for the team, but it was short-lived as they struggled to coordinate effectively.

And what was particularly evident to everyone, especially the team's coaching staff, was the lack of teamwork between players 88 and 23. So, as the game ended with a 4-1 loss for the Leafs, Coach Keefe wasted no time in pulling the two players aside in the corridor.

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on between you two… but whatever it is, you better fucking sort it out and stop behaving like spoiled kids.”

“Yes coach…”

“Sorry, coach…”

It was a stern reprimand, but a necessary one. While neither player had intentionally avoided each other on the ice, their subconscious actions had influenced their performance, which was unacceptable at their level of play.

So, as they stood there in the Scotiabank Arena corridor, exchanging glances, they understood that they had to address the issue. Their focus had to be on the game, and no personal matters should interfere. However, putting this into practice would prove to be much easier said than done.

Once both lads had changed into their regular attire and left the locker room to greet the gathered family and friends, they purposefully avoided you. Not out of desire, but out of necessity.

You seemed to be a source of disruption for both of them, and at that moment, they needed to clear their minds and concentrate on hockey. With the playoffs looming closer, both of them had much to demonstrate.

And in truth, you didn’t mind the avoidance. You weren’t inclined to confront either of them, so the lingering silence among the three of you created a strangely calming atmosphere for the already lacklustre evening.

Even in the subsequent two days, there was minimal communication from both players, leaving you feeling somewhat unsettled. Unsure of the nature of their exchange, you contemplated initiating a conversation, but instead, you welcomed the drama-free days, immersing yourself in work and sidestepping your own conflicting emotions.

However, that all changed when you were picking up your favourite coffee at the quaint nearby café you frequented, and you turned around only to find William's handsome face before you.

“Willy,” you gasped, feeling a sense of déjà vu as if history were repeating itself with his unexpected appearance.

“Hey y/n,” he spoke softly, a charming smile playing on his lips.

“What are you doing here?” you asked tentatively, aware that this wasn’t exactly his usual haunt, though close enough for him to drop by easily.

William chuckled lightly, shrugging as he gestured towards his hands in his pockets. “Just passing by, taking the dogs for a walk,” he nodded towards the window, where you spotted Pablo and Banksy tied up outside, patiently awaiting their owner.

“Oh,” you simply replied, surprised by the slight prickle of disappointment that flickered in your heart.

“And... I sort of... was hoping to bump into you,” William admitted nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided meeting your gaze.

And just like that, the disappointment swiftly faded, replaced by a small smile that crept onto your lips. You couldn’t quite pinpoint why this moment held such significance for you, but seeing William here, making an effort to find you on a Tuesday before the match later, warmed something inside you.

“Oh,” you responded with a gentle smile, still standing amidst the quiet of the small coffee shop. Fortunately, there were few people around, given that it was just before the afternoon rush. “Why... why were you hoping to see me?” you asked softly, the curiosity evident in your voice.

“Well, uh... I mean... I think I just... I just wanted to apologise... for being distant and all...” William began, his tone hesitant as he tried to collect his thoughts and find the best way to express himself. Then taking a deep breath, he timidly continued, “Listen, y/n... I know you’ve started something with Kniesy, and... that you’re happy, but... I’ve come to realise that lately, I’ve just been missing you a lot, and, I know, it’s a pretty mad and shitty thing to do, but... I just know that I really like you - and I’d hate myself if I didn’t tell you that… I guess I’m sort of... maybe, in love or something…” William released a heavy sigh of relief. “I’m not trying to come between you two, but... at least now you know... sorry.”

You couldn’t believe it. Was he truly serious right now? Just when you were finally making an effort to move on from him, to try and bury the wonderful moments you’d shared, he drops this bombshell.

Lost for words, your eyes nearly glistened as your mind waged an internal battle between wanting to punch him and wanting to kiss him. But instead, you remained still, managing only a soft voice.

“Yeah... this is a pretty shitty thing to do, Willy,” you said, mustering half a smile. “Where was all of this last year?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his apology sincere. “I guess I was just so focused on hockey that... I didn’t want to risk, you know, feelings messing with it…” he admitted with another sigh. “But as it turns out, they did anyway... and now I fear I’ve lost you for good.”

You had to swallow hard as you noticed the sincerity in his eyes, and you couldn’t deny that his words made your heart sink in your chest. Taking a deep breath, you tried to find the best words to navigate this difficult situation.

“Willy, you could never lose me for good,” you whispered. “But... I didn’t need to see you with someone else to know I liked you... and now, I’m just worried that the only reason you feel this way is because of Kniesy…”

A part of you resisted believing that this was true, but you’d been hurt enough times before to know this seemed like the most likely explanation.

“Y/n, I swear... I mean, seeing you with him did make me realise it, but…” William struggled to find the right words. “It’s not about him... it’s about you. And the other night, when you called me because you were scared... it just hit me how much you really mean to me… But if you say you don’t feel anything for me and you want me to stay away…. Then I promise I will…”

Once again, you found yourself unable to reply, your breath caught in your throat as he left you breathless. His hold over you was a mystery, and you knew he was tearing you apart. Yet, your heart raced as his mesmerising eyes locked with yours and his smile erased all logic in an instant.

“Anyway… I just, uh... I guess I just wanted to tell you that… so, I’ll see you around…”

And with that, he left you in turmoil, your thoughts swirling as you remained breathless and undone. “Fuck...” you muttered under your breath as you watched him casually stroll away with his doodles by his side.

William Nylander had you completely captivated, and no amount of work could distract you from thoughts of him. His name and face seemed to follow you everywhere, whether on the street, social media, or the radio. And it made sense—he was a hockey star in Toronto, having one of the best seasons of his career, and naturally, he was receiving all the attention he deserved.

And every time you caught sight of his handsome Swedish face; a quiet ‘fuck’ would escape your lips.

But what truly caused the ache was the fact that your heart was torn in two, and you knew you had to confront it. Ignoring it wouldn't make it disappear, especially since both William and Matthew were part of your inner circle of friends, and you would soon see them both again.

And with the playoffs drawing nearer, the players' focus would soon be solely on that, and for good reason. While they had almost secured their spot to advance, the real challenge lay ahead.

So, as you headed to Matthew’s apartment on a fateful Friday evening for a casual dinner and a movie, your hidden agenda was to resolve things. At least within yourself. You knew you had feelings for him, but a part of you couldn’t let go of William either, and you didn’t want to be unfair to Matthew. In your mind, he deserved only the best, and right now, you couldn’t provide that.

“Hey,” he greeted you with a broad smile as he opened the front door, and immediately, you couldn’t help but return the smile. Despite rehearsing how you would approach the situation on your way there, he completely flipped the script as you stepped into his cosy apartment and saw that he had already prepared, or attempted to prepare, dinner. The dining table was set with a cloth and fake candle lights, almost like the most romantic gesture a man had ever made for you. And your heart swelled in that moment.

“Matts…” you breathed softly, wide-eyed, and breathless as you stood frozen in place. “You didn’t have to do this…”

You were taken aback. He was being so sweet that suddenly, all the rational thoughts about ending things slowly faded into the background of your mind.

“I know I didn’t…” Matthew chuckled lightly as he came to stand gently behind you, softly caressing your arms as he smoothly helped you out of your coat. “But I wanted to.”

Matthew Knies wasn’t particularly an expert about romance. In fact, he was a rather typical young boyish lad, with hockey and hanging out with his teammates occupying his thoughts. However, ever since you’d entered the picture, a small part of him wanted to explore the realm of romance. You seemed more mature, with your life seemingly in order and possessing a strong mind - and he wanted to impress you.

So, drawing from his limited experience in past relationships, he saw the chance to woo you in a way he believed William wouldn’t. Recognising that his Swedish teammate had already captured your affection with his sexual talents, charming personality, and grounded demeanour, Matthew decided to take a different approach. He thought that his own mix of youthful innocence yet mature demeanour could work in his favour—romantic gestures with a hint of flirtation.

And it was working.

As the evening slowly unfolded, you found yourself swiftly enchanted by Matthew's charm as you savoured the delightful dinner. Sure, perhaps the culinary skills could have been improved, but that wasn’t the crux of the matter. The important part of the evening lay in the effort Matthew had invested in it all.

And soon, both of you were immersed in hearty laughter, exchanging jokes and interests as you had done countless times before. In that very moment, he was the most important person in your life—someone with whom you could truly be yourself and unwind. His company required little social energy, and it suited you perfectly.

However, as you finished dining and began to clear the table together, what should have been a simple and innocent task took on a more sensual tone. With gentle touches as you manoeuvred around the small kitchen, occasionally brushing against each other and sharing giggles, it was inevitable that the movie night would carry a certain level of sexual tension.

You tried to maintain your composure, really, you did. However, as Matthew tenderly enveloped you in his strong arm, drawing you nearer to his large, comforting frame while lounging on the sofa, you couldn’t resist the yearning inside you.

The memory of the pleasurable sensation of his lips was all too vivid, and soon enough, you found yourself back in his embrace, your mouths meeting as your fingers tangled in his hair and your tongues intertwined.

It was intense and brimming with desire as you straddled his lap, your body moving against his in a sensual rhythm as his hands explored your form.

Matthew was undeniably attractive, that much was certain. But this wasn’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to feel this exhilarated with his chest against yours, your hips moving against him as if your primal instincts had taken control.

No, you were supposed to end things. To explain to him that he deserved someone fully committed to him, not torn in two.

Yet, as you delved deeper into the passionate kiss, there was no room for such thoughts.

Instead, you were consumed by pleasure, gripping his brown locks tighter as he nibbled your lower lip and sighed softly into the kiss.

To be fair, this hadn’t been Matthew’s plan either. He had simply wanted to impress you with a romantic dinner. Yet he didn’t exactly protest when he felt you responding to him. In fact, he felt rather pleased about it, sensing your longing for him as much as he longed for you. Perhaps he had secretly hoped for this to happen, yet he didn’t want to get his hopes up too high, knowing you still had feelings for someone else.

But the moment your lips were locked in a passionate kiss, Matthew’s worries about William faded into insignificance, and his sole desire was for you.

The sensation of your body pressed against his surpassed anything he had imagined. And though he had experienced a glimpse of it before, tonight, he yearned for more, his hard member, evident in the bulge in his trousers, betrayed his most fervent desires.

The small living room was growing warmer with each passing moment, almost overwhelming you as your body yearned for more than just his lips. And when you finally pulled apart to catch your breath, your eyes locked in a lustful gaze, both exhaling deeply as you contemplated what would happen next.

You couldn’t resist the pull towards him. With your core throbbing between your legs and feeling his bulge pressing against you, you lacked the willpower to resist the situation.

And while Matthew took a moment to think it over as well before proceeding, there was no doubt about his desires.

So, summoning the courage, he had gathered from their romantic dinner, he gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear as he spoke softly.

“Want to… go upstairs?”

His voice remained steady, devoid of any trace of insecurity, which only fuelled your desire for him. And with a soft smile and a teasing bite to your lower lip, you nodded, encouraging him to effortlessly lift you into his arms and carry you upstairs to his bedroom.

The touch of the younger hockey player was nothing short of exquisite. The way his lips lingered on yours as he eased you onto the mattress was pure bliss. His hands on your curves were both firm and gentle as he explored every contour, slowly undressing you.

In return, you took the initiative to remove his t-shirt, unbuckle his belt, and slide down his jeans. Matthew's physique was simply impressive. His toned torso resembled that of a Greek god, with broad shoulders and hips that were nothing short of captivating.

Likewise, he admired your body as you lounged before him in your underwear. The light blue lace complemented your skin beautifully, while your bra provided just the right amount of support without distorting the natural size of your breasts. Your hips formed a graceful curve, your thighs exuding strength. And as his gaze devoured every inch of you, he couldn't help but lick his lips in anticipation.

Then with a playful smirk, Matthew leaned in for a quick kiss before kneeling back and slowly pulling down your panties, revealing your core to him. And it was a delightful surprise for him to feel your wetness, as he wasted no time in stroking his thick fingers along your folds, preparing you for the pleasure to come.

And it felt good. A soft gasp then escaped your lips as Matthew allowed his fingers to gently penetrate you, stretching you slowly, while your toes curled into the sheets beneath you, and soft moans spilled from your lips as ecstasy washed over you.

The hockey player was utterly captivated by the array of expressions crossing your face as he skilfully massaged your inner walls, surprised by how much pleasure it brought him to please you. Yet, beneath it all, he felt a deeper longing to feel his own length buried within you. The mere sensation of his fingers enveloped by your tightness and warmth caused him to already drip with pre-cum in his boxers. So, with gentle care, he withdrew his fingers before discarding his final piece of clothing.

Matthew was a big boy, much as you had anticipated even before seeing him naked. And as you saw his long and thick member, hard and proud, you were relieved he had used his fingers first. In comparison to William, his proportions were likely similar in scale, but Matthew stood a little taller and broader, so his member naturally slightly larger.

Then rising from the mattress, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him as he carefully rolled a condom onto his shaft, your anticipation nearly palpable as you longed to be filled and stimulated. And fortunately, you didn’t have to wait long.

Drawing you into another kiss, Matthew reignited the fire between you, gently parting your legs as he removed your bra, his hands tenderly exploring your rounded breasts. Meanwhile, your fingers threaded through his hair as you pulled him in for a deeper kiss, the mutual longing for the final act palpable between you.

And then, a surge of confidence coursed through you. Biting his lip, you signalled for him to lie back, to which he complied. You weren’t typically the dominant type in bed, but given that Matthew entirely wasn’t either, at least not with you, you seized the opportunity to take control.

So, straddling his hips, you gently guided his cock between your folds, riding it a few times while supporting yourself on his chest. Then, with careful precision, you positioned the tip at your entrance and pressed it in slowly. Gasping, you allowed him to stretch you as you relied on your legs for support, sinking down a little before rising back up, repeating the motion until he was fully inside you.

“Oh, fuck, Matts,” you cried as he filled you completely. He was definitely bigger than William, although lacking the slight curve that would hit your sensitive spot every time.

But as soon as you had adjusted to his size, you gently began to rock your hips, his shaft sliding in and out of your moist cunt with each sensual movement.

Moans filled the room as pleasure engulfed both of you, Matthew's hands finding your hips for support as your tightness brought him a little closer to climax sooner than he expected. But he couldn’t resist the intense sensations. You felt incredible around him, and the faster you rode him, the louder his moans grew, and the nearer he came to the edge.

And it was gratifying to watch him pant beneath you, his eyes occasionally fluttering shut and his breath erratic as he struggled to maintain composure. You sensed his climax approaching, mirroring the impending arrival of your own.

So, with the orgasm building in your stomach, you increased your pace, your fingers digging into his chest while your breaths mimicked his—panting and gasping in unison.

Though it didn’t flow as smoothly and naturally as it had with William, it was still pleasurable. Matthew felt good inside you, and his physique was impressive. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. With William, there had been a sense of fluidity, effortlessly moving around and smiling as he brought you to climax.

With Matthew, it required more effort. You had to focus on riding him and bringing yourself closer to orgasm. Even his thumb on your clit didn’t quite get you there, and after a short while, you started to worry that you wouldn’t reach the peak you desired.

However, everything changed when Matthew grew more eager, suddenly flipping you over into missionary position. With his hands on either side of your head, he picked up a faster and harder pace, thrusting into you deeply.

And at this point, the intensity was overwhelming. His large cock overstimulated your walls as he pounded into you with quick and passionate motions. Your hands instinctively grasped the back of his shoulders, your legs wrapping around his lower back as euphoria consumed you entirely. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head, your nails digging deep into his shoulder blades as your climax now quickly approached.

It was more fervent and eager than it had been with William, perhaps a bit less refined compared to the older hockey player's skill and experience, yet it felt surprisingly satisfying. Your moans were loud cries mixed with whines of pleasure, and you found your fingers digging deeper than you intended.

But in that moment, neither of you cared. Matthew's mind was entirely consumed by the intensity of the moment, his deep gasps punctuating each eager thrust as he knew he was nearing climax. Despite his desire for a more romantic encounter, your tightness around him was too much to resist.

And with a few final hard pounds, he let out a deep grunt as he released himself, thrusting one last time and pushing you over the edge as well. Loud moans, almost screams, filled the room as both of you reached your peaks, yet the rush of orgasm didn’t linger as long as it had after your encounters with William.

Stop it, you reminded yourself. You couldn’t keep comparing the two.

You had to push every thought of William out of your head as you slowly came down from the high, your mind emerging from the blur as Matthew gently withdrew from you. And despite feeling a twinge of guilt when Matthew returned from the bathroom and pulled you in for a cuddle on the warm, steamed mattress, you pushed it aside.

The fervent and intense sex had shifted back to the romantic and sweet atmosphere that had characterised the beginning of your evening, with Matthew turning to face you, gently stroking your features as he admired your beauty.

Lying on your sides, you let the soft moment linger, the scent of sweat and sex filling the bedroom as you simply enjoyed his tender touches and the comforting atmosphere. And though you had briefly felt guilty, Matthew had a knack for washing away all concerns. In his arms, you felt safe and content, and there was no reason to feel guilty about that. Especially not considering the outcome of your casual relationship with William Nylander, who, for the record, had been the one to avoid any progression into a more serious relationship, and then had the audacity to confess his feelings for you months later, when it was too late.

No, Matthew Knies was different. He was sweet, kind, gentle, and caring. He showed his emotions openly, despite the looming playoffs. He wasn’t afraid of love like William had been, and since you weren’t either, being with him felt incredibly fulfilling.

It should have been a no-brainer.

Matthew embodied everything desirable in a potential partner, despite his younger age. While he may have been slightly less mature, it wasn’t as pronounced as many would assume.

But William had left his mark on you so deeply. It felt as if he had poisoned your mind and heart, his influence spreading through your veins like venom. So, despite the comfort and warmth Matthew provided, you chose not to stay the night after your intimacy, as you reasoned with an early morning and the need for him to focus on the upcoming game. And though being with him felt incredible, you had to admit to yourself that your heart still wasn’t fully committed.

Naturally, he was disappointed, but he understood your reasoning. Part of him knew that the rational and sensible choice would be to let you go and simply focus on hockey and his career. Yet, as you left his apartment, a sense of emptiness lingered. It felt as though you were the missing piece in his otherwise hectic yet successful life.

As the morning skate approached, Matthew felt like a renewed person. The night with you had been nothing short of wonderful, and as he prepared for the game day, he couldn’t help but smile.

Matthew understood that you weren’t completely devoted to him, at least not yet. However, he was confident that you felt something for him, something deep and profound. In the time he had spent getting to know you, he had learned that you weren’t malicious or intentionally trying to hurt him. You were simply torn between two men you cared for deeply, unable to make a choice.

And he tried to empathise with your dilemma. While he wished you would declare that you had forgotten about his Swedish teammate, he recognised that pressuring you to make a decision would only exacerbate the situation. So, for now, he accepted the situation as it was. Even as he arrived at the training centre, his lips still curved in happiness, and his demeanour did not go unnoticed by his teammates.

“Woohooo,” Auston whistled. “You seem a little too happy over there, Kniesy!”

“What’s brought such a smile to your handsome face?” Gio added, joining in the laughter.

“Or more like who?” Max chimed in with a grin.

It was nothing but the typical banter among teammates that filled the locker room as they all undressed to change into their gear. However, something more profound caught their attention this time, prompting a need for answers.

"Whoa, hold up there, beasty!" Auston nearly shouted, noticing the scratch marks on his fellow Arizona teammate's back. "Who the fuck has been doing some artwork on you?"

"And more importantly," Max chuckled deeply, "what did you do to deserve it?"

Dark chuckles filled the room as more players gathered to admire the nail scratches left from your intense night with the forward the night before.

"Looks like someone got laid last night!" Reaves added with a loud, deep grin. "And who's the lucky girl?"

"Or guy?" Mitch playfully joked.

Matthew took a small breath, glancing over to the empty stall where William would have been sitting if he hadn't been perpetually late, before deciding to speak up. "Her name is y/n," he spoke proudly, perhaps slightly boasting, though it lacked the same satisfaction without William in the room.

"Wait, you mean Willy's y/n?" Auston raised a brow, a light grin playing on his lips.

"Well..." Matthew began to respond, but then Max interjected.

"Oh, she's not Willy's girl anymore, man! Did you see those marks? Seems like our freshman here really showed her what a real man can do!"

Matthew felt a twinge of embarrassment at the words, but it was quickly overshadowed by the pride he felt. He had given you a good time, and the marks you left showcased the pleasure he had provided you.

And he couldn’t help it as his eyes gleamed with pride and he chuckled along with the other players. However, as the door then swung open, the laughter faded into a subdued murmur as William walked in, fashionably late as usual.

"What?" he asked, noticing the not-so-subtle change in atmosphere.

But the boys simply muttered 'nothing' before returning to gearing up for practice before the crucial match. They all sensed it was better to keep things low-key before the match that could either propel them into the playoffs or have them fighting for a few more games.

And it almost worked, until the practice games had William and Matthew facing off on opposite teams.

Initially, it hadn’t been a problem. William had resolved to act maturely about the situation, acknowledging his own villain role in it and allowing you to make your own decisions about how you felt toward each of them.

But as training progressed and he and Matthew found themselves in continuous physical battles on the ice, tension began to mount. What started as friendly hockey banter, suddenly changed when Max couldn't keep his mouth shut, and the atmosphere shifted.

"Looks like Kniesy isn’t just stealing Willy’s girl – he’s also beating his ass on the ice!"

Those words set William's mind spinning. What did Max mean by that?

Yet trying to shake it off, the Swedish forward focused on the training match, but to his frustration, he missed a crucial opportunity for a goal.

“Fucking hell!” he shouted loudly, banging his stick against the boards in frustration.

“Hey,” Auston came over, lightly chuckling. “Just because Kniesy’s sleeping with your girl, you don’t need to take it out on your stick, man.”

It was meant to be nothing but a playful remark, a joke among teammates, but William didn’t find it amusing at all.

“What did you just say?” he asked with a serious tone, more serious than Auston had expected.

"We- well… you know… Kniesy and y/n…" Auston stuttered, realising he might have just sparked something more serious.

“They what?” William asked again, his tone stern as his eyes fixed on the smiling freshman on the ice.

Matthew hadn’t intended to taunt William about his success in winning over a girl, but as the Swede took to the ice once more, an urge within him rose to showcase his newfound confidence and dominance.

As the two players were positioned in front of each other, they were ready to face off. And that's when William couldn’t maintain his composure any longer.

“You slept with her?” His eyes bore deeply into his teammate's, who simply nodded.

“Last night,” Matthew confirmed, prompting William to nod, his throat tightening as he imagined his teammate's hands on you.

“Hmm…” he muttered under his breath, unsure of how to react.

But before he could respond further, Matthew, perhaps emboldened by his newfound confidence, spoke again. “Guess I won her after all.”

And those were the wrong words to utter in William’s presence. Straightening his back, he halted the game and skated closely to Matthew’s face. “She’s not a prize to be won.”

The Swede asserted his dominance over his teammate, causing everyone to pause and observe the unfolding confrontation.

“Come on, Willy,” Matthew huffed, giving his shorter teammate a little push. “You’re just angry because you were the one who treated her like shit... and now she doesn’t want to be with you.”

“Fuck you, Kniesy!” William shot back, but Matthew was ready to defend himself.

“Oh yeah? Well, she did!”

And this had William push back, both physically and verbally, relinquishing the control he had been determined to maintain.

“Well, at least I know I won’t always be her second choice!”

What transpired between the first punch and the two boys ending up in the locker room with ice packs on their faces and towels containing the blood streaming from their noses was a blur to most. It happened so quickly, both players taking swings at each other in a fight far more intense and serious than any on-ice altercation. The coaches naturally intervened, while Tavares and Morgan pulled them apart, and with Reaves and other players chuckling in the background.

It was a coincidence that you had been nearby, as Stephanie had invited you to join her and some of the girls for preparations in case the Leafs continued into the playoffs. But the joy you had felt among the girls froze when you heard what had happened at training, prompting you to swiftly make your way to the Ford Performance Center.

Walking through the halls, your heart pounded in your chest, uncertain of what to expect when you faced the two boys who had torn your heart in two and claimed a part each.

And as you entered the locker room, you couldn't help but mutter, "Shit…" under your breath. Yet, other than your soft curse, there was silence. The tension filled the air as the three of you stood and sat frozen, no one wanting to take the first step and potentially worsen the situation.

It was as if all three of you were silently expressing the guilt you felt toward one another.

William for dismissing you and then trying to reclaim your deep feelings for him and acting aggressively toward his teammate.

Matthew for attempting to win you over despite knowing your feelings for his teammate, and then wanting to boast about his success.

And you, for leading Matthew on while being unable to let go of William, unwilling to accept that Matthew might be the better choice, yet not fully believing it, as William still held a grip on your heart.

It was anything but an easy situation. And sensing your inner panic, the turmoil you were feeling as he saw your concerned expression shifting between him and his teammate, William chose to be the one to act.

Rising from his seat, the Swede let out a deep sigh, his eyes meeting yours in a heartfelt gaze. And without a word, he decided to be the one to walk away. He didn’t want to be the cause of your pain anymore, so he stepped down.

“Willy…” you softly gasped as your heart felt like it was being ripped out of your chest, a tear forming in the corner of your eye as you followed his movement.

You were on the verge of breaking, tears pressing on, yet you managed to focus on controlling your breathing. In the corner of your eye, you noticed Matthew’s intense stare as he watched your reaction, curious to see whether you would stop William or let him go.

And as it turned out, William walked out of the locker room, leaving you alone with Matthew.

Your heart pounded faster than ever before; palms sweaty as a tear trailed down your cheek. Breathing felt almost impossible in the moment, and your mind, soul, and body felt torn apart. You had never expected a heartbreak to hurt this much, and never had you expected it would be William to be the one to cause it.

The air felt thick, and though a small part of you felt relieved that now you didn’t have to make the hard choice between them, another part didn’t want that to be the case. So, without even consciously acknowledging your next move, you suddenly found yourself moving out of your frozen position and making your way with fast steps out of the locker room, following William.

“Willy, wait!” you heard yourself shout. But he didn’t stop. Instead, he just kept on walking, so you picked up your pace. “Willy, please!”

“What for?” he suddenly responded, halting in the middle of the corridor as he turned to face you. He didn’t shout, yet his facial expression conveyed signs of defeat and hurt.

“Because I don’t want you to leave…” you tried to argue, but it came out vague.

“Of course, you do, y/n… you can’t choose between me and Kniesy, so I’m deciding for you…”

“Willy,” you softly cried. “Please don’t do this…”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re too important to me…”

“That’s not enough, y/n… I promised I’d stay away if you didn’t feel anything for me, so that’s what I’m doing…”

You held your breath for a moment, torn between your emotions and rationality. “But I do feel something for you, Willy…” you admitted softly under your breath.

And in a swift motion, William's hands cupped your face, as he pressed his lips onto yours.

It was the familiar warmth coursing through your body as you felt his touch once again. The intoxicating sensation had your mind in bliss as his mouth melted with yours, lips moving in perfect sync as your hands instinctively reached to palm his chest.

Time seemed to stand still. The world stopped turning as you connected with the one who had captured your heart from the start. And though a part of you wanted to feel guilty for leaving Matthew in the locker room, it slowly washed away under William’s touch.

And as you then pulled apart to catch your breath, you shared a tender moment of gazing into each other's eyes. William's thumb gently wiped away the tear that trailed down your cheek before you managed to flash him a timid and soft smile.

“Please don’t leave…” you whispered.

“I won’t…” he spoke gently in return.

There was another moment of silence as you stayed connected.

“I’m so sorry, Willy…”

“I know,” he simply responded, gently placing a kiss on your forehead before pulling you into a tight hug. Your body immediately responded to his, wrapping your arms around his warm body as you relished your re-found connection.

“I’m in love with you…” you sobbed into his shirt, tightening your arms around him.

William let out a deep sigh as he held you close, finally feeling the happiness that only you could bring him. But then, pulling back slightly, he looked down at you with a soft, concerned expression.

“But you’re in love with him too…” he stated softly, finally acknowledging the truth of the situation.

And you could only nod in response. “I am…”

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