#best all round player ever

[dinosaurwithablog]

Willie Mays, one of the greatest all-round players of the game, died peacefully today at the age of 93. RIP, Willie 🙏🏼 he was a-mays-ing!!! He made the game great. I'm my opinion, he is the home run king of the SF Giants. Up to today, he was the oldest hall of famer that was still alive. He was inducted in 1979. He was 2 time MVP with the Giants. In 1954, he won the World Series with the Giants. He was a 12 time gold glover and a 24 time all star. He was the rookie of the year in 1951. He did it all. I remember watching him play when I was a kid. I was lucky to see him in person when he played with the Mets at Shea Stadium. My baseball glove had his signature on it and I was very proud of that as a kid. He was a joyful man and a beautiful person. 😍 he was part of the reason that I love this game so much. Thank you, Willie. Thank you for everything that you did on and off the field. There's an extra star in heaven. I know I'll see you twinkling in the night sky. You are missed. You are loved. You are a-MAYS-ing!! Always💜💜💜⚾️

[the-physicality]

i do think, aside from mercury bias, if bg had been in all season she would have been all wnba, first or at least second. i think people undervalue her because of the rebounding but she is 1000% the worst officiated player in the league, on both sides of the court. so the fact that she's been able to have the performance that she had is incredible, and that she didn't get the acknowledgment really just underscores how much people take what she does for granted.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

☆ suck-suck-succubus! ── a blue lock fanfiction. // where you come to wreck the blue lock boys but end up ruined instead.

synopsis: ego jinpachi was a crazed man, a man who had raised a team of monsters that devoured everything on field and made their way to national team in just their early twenties. but were these men ready to be the greatest just yet? were they ready to leave behind dirty temptations and sickening thoughts just to be the greatest? good thing he knew just the person to test them. pairing: afab!reader x multiple men [aged up isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, hyoma chigiri, meguru bachira, rensuke kunigami, nagi seishiro, reo mikage.] // every character gets a separate drabble with the same character (reader.) and it's implied that the reader has slept with them all. cw: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. [this means the story contains themes one may not be comfortable with. if you find yourself growing uncomfortable, please click away.] NOT PROOFREAD. WRITTEN DURING A DELUSIONAL PHASE. MDNI. girl don't. nsfw concludes: penetration, doin' it raw, cunnilingus, blowjob, teasing, nicknames, slight bimbofication and teasing, overstimulation, praise, marathon sex. please read it whole or i'll hunt you. pretty please :) m.list [part 02]

"you know what to do." the man nodded once, not even sending a fleeting glance your way as he casually leaned back into his chair, "just try to break them."

"i don't have to try, ego. just say the word and i would have already gotten them wrapped 'round my finger."

"that delusional?" the man enquired and you didn't miss the sharp glint in his eyes behind those rimmed glasses. all you could do was smile, "that confident. but—" your words drawled on, fingers clasping over the mahogany table, "what do i get from this?"

ego jinpachi smiled, and the sight sent shivers down spine. a cheque slid over to your side, a clear sum of one million yen printed neatly for you to claim. you stared at the piece of paper a second too long before dragging your gaze to the crazed man, "you're offering me money to ruin your players?"

"try your best." the man sat up straight, his lanky frame shifting under his usual suit, "ruin them if you can."

you knew ego jinpachi was an eccentric man, and you knew you owed him a favor from years ago. but for him to have called you, and asked you to seduce his own team before they went for championship felt crazy... even by his standards.

"why are you doing this?" you asked, nimble fingers mindlessly pulling the cheque and turning it around in your palm, "they're your team. don't you want them focused before the championship?"

"don't question me."

fair enough. after all, you were getting paid.

★player 01: isagi yoichi! ya think i don't know what i'm doing?

you had heard of the man, seen him on your television screen game after game. flowing, black hair, blue eyes with a crazed look every time he was on the field. isagi yoichi was a beast; an ever-evolving phantom that possibly haunted every footballer's nightmares. on the field, he was ruthless. he was the one to ruin others, and now it was finally his turn. at your hands, at that.

his hair was tousled, head tipped back and rested against the wall as weak pants slipped past his lips. his fingers were tangled into your hair as you kissed his erection, all sloppy from his salty pre and your lipgloss. he pulled his length out just to smear the tip against your lips, groaning at the feeling of you eagerly peeking out your tongue to tease his needy, aching dick.

all it had taken to break his resolve was to call him to your assigned room after everyone had slept, and tell him the thing as it was. no hidden games, no unkept promises. isagi yoichi was smart enough to see through any games, anyways. what was the point?

"so, ego sent you? to test me, probably." he had concluded by the time you had uttered the second sentence. you rolled your eyes, "has blue lock altered your brain chemistry to think of everything as a trap? i jus' wanna fuck, yoichi."

you saw his fist tighten as you let out honeyed syllables of his name, purposefully bunching your already short skirt upwards. even as his eyes swayed, transfixed against your soft, exposed skin, the man's tone stayed ever-so-polite, "i honestly expected better from ego. i didn't think he was a benevolent man."

"who says i am a product of his benevolence?"

"a-ah," and now the footballed panted, his fingers pulling at your roots as you bobbed up and down, taking his length deeper and deeper into your mouth with each mean, little suck.

"shit," he hissed, eyes clenching shut, "jus' like that, baby."

you felt his thighs clench under your touch, the muscle spasming all erratic as his hips bucked into your mouth. as you felt him breath heavily, you peeled yourself off of him with a lewd pop.

looking up at him, all wide-eyes and devilish smiles, yoichi looked down at you with part confusion, part impatience. "i—" his voice trembled, "i was so fuckin' close, why'd you stop?"

you pulled yourself up, cleaning your mouth with your fingers carelessly, "just cause. goodnight, isagi. you can go back to your room."

"wh-what?" the man spluttered, demeanor uncharacteristically disheveled as he took in the sight of you walking away from him, "what?"

"goodnight." you replied without even looking back, ready to cozy up in your bed and go to sleep. there was no reply from his side, and then something flipped.

"what?" his voice rasped, hands coming to close around your wrist to pull you back into himself, "you think i'll just let you walk away?"

the man turned you around, pressing your chest to the wall as your cheek came to squish against the cold, hard wall. a harsh tug had your skirt pulled upwards, has your drenched panties pulled to the side hastily and had him stuffing you full of his cock, "take it."

"sh-yoichi!" you yelped, thighs automatically parting to accommodate his mean, shallow thrusts. something in the air changed. the compliant man, ready to be ruined by you was suddenly a beast, a man who would break you just to build you up again. his voice dragged, a nimble finger coming to spread your puffy folds and toy with the wettened bud, "think you can jus' toy with me? hah," a humorless laugh left him, dick slipping in and out of you faster and faster and faster, "you thought i'll spare you?"

"ngh— y-yoichi," he pressed your face into the wall, using the pressure to drill into you, to find the spots that will undo you. your mouth fell apart, silent screams into the bricked walls as he rasped in your ear, "you just wanted to fuck right?" a harsh snap of his pelvis and you lost your balance, limply held up by his strong arms, "see? aren't i fucking you right now?"

as you stayed silent, too lost in the feeling of his tip brushing against your g-spot and a hurricane building up in your stomach, yoichi pulled your face towards his, meeting your bleary eyes with his crazed ones, "answer me."

"ye-yeah."

"feel good, huh?" his heavy breaths the only coherent sounds, accompanied by the slap of skin over skin and your stupid babbling, "y- hah yoichi, harder."

"huh?" the star player laughed, his agile finger rubbing patterns against your clit as he kept up his inhumane pace, "want more?"

he pinched your throbbing bud and you arched back into him, eyes growing teary, "ah, ngh please 'm gonna cum. mgonna— cum."

you heard the man shuffle behind you, fully expecting him to go overboard. except he didn't. pulling himself out, he left your throbbing, dripping cunt empty.

"what—" you turned around to look at your culprit only for him to slip back inside in one fluid motion, fucking you dumb again. your voice wobbled, your body falling forward and only held up by him, "shit, you feel so g-good, hah oh my god."

and then you were spasming around his dick, eyes clenching shut as he kept fucking into you through your orgasm. your stomach felt heavy, breath uneven and barely lucid as isagi emptied himself within you.

seeing you in front of him — his seed slipping out of you, your face all reddened and sweaty from his administration, beautiful — isagi yoichi was sure he had finally found another addiction, one battling even the likes of his football career and dreams of being a striker.

as he left your body and stepped back, you leaned on the wall, catching your breath. yoichi spoke up again, his words no longer formal and polite like they had started off when he had first came into your room. he was ruthless. "if you wanna get fucked dumb again, let me know."

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 02: rin itoshi! you thought this would work on me?

rin itoshi was nothing if not a fucking hard-ass. he was rude, blunt, downright cruel if you didn't fall into the small circle of people he could tolerate. he was a man with a purpose, a man with tunnel vision, and right now that vision was you bent over his desk, looking back at him with nothing but heady desire.

his strong grip held your wrists behind your back, the other hand toying with your entrance. for the activity he was doing, his voice was awfully bored, "what did you exactly think would happen once you came here?"

you tried speaking, "well—"

"—it was a rhetorical question." the man replied coolly, his eyes against yours in a heavy dance while his fingers teased your drenched cunt, "did you actually think you'd come here, and i'd fall into your little trap? ego has seriously lost his mind if he thinks this is enough to make me lose control."

"that being said," the younger itoshi hummed, finally looking down to see what a mess you were making of his table, dripping down obscenely onto the wood and coating his fingers, "i cannot lie that this is entertaining."

he had you spread out like that for however long, you couldn't even recall. but seeing how his green eyes locked onto you, how his voice slightly lost their edge as he played with you had you feeling like maybe he was losing control.

"rin," you whined, your chest arching further into the wood as you pathetically tried to move, "jus' do something. anything."

"tsk," the man husked, all disappointed as you tried to meaninglessly struggle against his vice-like grip on your wrist, "why? from the looks of it, you look like you're enjoying this a lot."

as if to emphasize, his fingers finally swept past your puffy clit, softly rubbing the nub. you threw your head backwards, a silent moan at the final contact. looking at you entranced, the man finally slipped a finger into your velvety heat, and then another immediately after.

stretching you open on his digits, rin itoshi couldn't lie he could see the appeal in you. the way your body molded to his touches, how you keened into his fleeting touches against your clit, how he almost all but buried himself within your sickly, sweet cunt.

"r-rin," you panted, eyes clenched shut, "f-faster, please."

"hm?" if you didn't know any better, you would have taken his tone as one of annoyance. dripping in boredom, he reminded you all while his digits pumped in and out of you repeatedly, "look me in the eye while you're talking to me."

"ugh," your voice shook as you forced your eyes open. looking at the raven-headed man through a shaky gaze, you tried to repeat the lewd request, "faster... please?"

as you looked back at him; eyes red, lips wobbling and body almost limp except for the jitters that shook you over and over again, rin swallowed hard. faking nonchalance was getting harder.

"let me do you one better." rin itoshi pulled out his fingers — all coated with your essence — and you whined at his action before he teased the stretched-out cunt with the tip of his aching dick, "take it all since you want it so fuckin' bad."

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 03: hyoma chigiri! gentleman in the streets, freak in them sheets!

hyoma chigiri prided himself to be a gentleman. he was always graceful, always so well-manner and proper. he was — what you considered — the easiest prey. you thought you would utter something suggestive, tie your hair and fall to your knees and he would explode right there. oh, how wrong you were.

"tired already?" his hair stuck to his forehead, long tresses half-glued to his sweaty back and half-falling over you as he caged you under him. his lean biceps flexed, his pelvic region coming in fleeting contact with your aching cunt every time he slipped his cock inside you.

you panted, words jumbling at his almost mocking tone, "chigiri plea—"

he cut you off, "please what?"

oh, how dare he act so nonchalant? especially after he had been keeping up the same tantalizing, torturous pace for the past hour. you knew the man had crazy stamina, you had seen his explosive strength as he ran the course of the field in a matter of mere seconds. but those same legs now supported his figure as he pressed your knees to your chest and rammed into you so, so slowly.

"the p-pace," you tried again and he furrowed his brow, looking so pretty hovering over you. he repeated, "what's wrong with the pace?"

"'s so slow." you hoped your weak words would do the trick but hyoma chigiri just looked at you confused, as if you were uttering an alien language. he laughed, "are you saying i'm slow? me?" shaking his head, he disapproved, "that's a bit harsh."

you whined, nails digging into his sculpted back as you tried to physically taint him into changing the pace. the reddish scars against his back ignited something within the man. he hummed, "well, since you've been so patient 'n all, i guess—"

his thrust almost took you by surprise, a gasp stuck in your throat at his sudden intensity. his pelvis met yours in a lewd grind and you keened into his touches, praying to any deity above that he just keeps up this pace.

and boy, did those deities answer.

because now you were gasping, reeling from your second orgasm, as the man above you kept going. a light layer of sheen covered you both, his hair was dripping, and you were sure that one more thrust and your body would rip open.

"c'mon," he insisted, his words now reduced to groans and stuttering moans, "gimme one more."

"no, no, no." you shook your head but a steady hand came to pull your cheeks together, forcing you to meet his eyes. the man rasped, "did i fuckin' ask? i told you i need one more."

the same hand that had been holding your face trailed downwards to toy with your neglected clit while his dick rammed against the same gooey spot within you. the pressure in your stomach rose dangerously, and you squirmed under him, screaming his name.

and then, you erupted. muscles spasming, cunt fluttering so tight around him as you screamed his name. and he came just as intensely within you, painting your insides white with his essence.

as chigiri hyoma finally caught his breath and looked down at you, at your blissful, spent expression, he almost envisioned a future where this was you and him every morning. a future where he woke you up with orgasms and candied words against your lips. ah, too bad ego was the one pulling the strings.

but dammit, was ego good at pulling strings.

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 04: rensuke kunigami! over 'n over again? let's go till infinity, tonight.

rensuke kunigami knew what he wanted in his life. you knew the muscled man as someone who never stopped, never gave up, never for a second ever held back from giving it his all. so, why would he act any different with you?

you had been so sweet to him, anyways. you had waltzed into his room late at night, complimenting his strikes and offering him a massage as a small favour. now, he was returning the favor by folding you in half, ramming in 'n out, in 'n out, in 'n ou—

"—oh my god, rensuke." you gasp, your legs dangling on his muscled shoulders as he used you as a ragdoll.

his untamed hair is now a bit matted, sweat drops cascading down his neck and down his rippling abs and chest. you would follow the path of that drop shamelessly if he hadn't forced you to focus on him and only him.

rensuke kunigami was an usually reserved man. but the way you ruined him was a experiment that needed to be studied. he lost control the second you showed up in those itty-bitty top and short combo to give him a free massage. ofcourse, now he was just repaying the favour.

he didn't care that ego might be behind it, that you were just a mere distraction. more like he couldn't care as you moaned out his name and tried to buck into him, tried to match his erratic thrusts.

he was such a deranged man at your touches, losing all inhibitions and acting on his most dark thoughts because as soon as you got comfortable in one position, as soon as he saw you about to come undone, he would manhandle you and have you another way.

this position was your fourth and you were half-afraid you'd pass out before his stamina ran out. the man panted, "shi-shit, gonna come?"

"yes, please." your legs locked against his broad back, trying to force him into the position and not edge you again. and although, rensuke kunigami was a crazed man, he couldn't lie that he wanted to feel you cum on his dick. ego's scheme be damned.

"c-cum for me," he hissed, pelvis grinding into you with more and more intensity as your eyes rolled back and muscles grew tense under him. he repeated, words coming so hard to his parched throat, "cum for me. cum on me, pretty girl."

"hah shit—" your voice pitched and you saw your vision fade to black, just a violent storm inside your body that calmed down slowly as the man above you finally pulled out and spilled white all over your abdomen.

he panted, gasping for air like he had just played 6 consecutive matches, he picked up the white on his index and pushed it past your wobbling lips, looking as you accepted his taste with a sweet hum.

"fuck, baby. one last time?" he asked. but what was the point of asking as he was already slipping inside you?

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 05: meguru bachira! ah, the monster won't let me stop!

meguru bachira swore he grew up with a monster. not the scary kind, no. his was kind, his was ambitious, his was his only friend growing up. but now, as you laid before him, he realized that the monster was him.

you had grabbed his wrist after dinner, and he had grinned and teased his friends as you dragged him away. he had heard the rumors. isagi, itoshi, kunigami, chigiri — all of them seemed to have gotten a pretty little session from you. and he would be lying if he said he wasn't waiting for his turn.

sure, ego was playing with them. ego wanted to test them. but what ego didn't know was that meguru bachira was a man at your service, ready for whatever.

he had waited for his turn so long, of course, he wanted to make a good impression. maybe that's why your hands were tied to the headboard of his bed, your thighs split open on each side of his face as he lapped at you like a man ravished.

you were so sweet, and he almost grew angry at the idea of all of them having you. but right now, you were pulling at your handcuffs so desperately, you were telling him he was doing so good and that you were gonna come again.

"meg—" you cried out, hips raising in a desperate attempt only for them to be pushed down by his arms. he kept lapping at you, kept fucking you with his tongue, kept staring at your face as it contorted into one of pleasure. you cried again, trying to push him away, "meguru, too much. 's too much."

he stopped, if only for a moment. he raised his head up, looking at your disheveled state. your hair stuck to your body, your eyes crazed the same way he felt he looked chasing after the ball on the field. except, you looked more beautiful than all of his sweaty teammates combined.

you sighed with relief, "stop, megs."

"hm?" he peeked his tongue out, softly licking away at the honeyed residue on his lips, "why?"

"i'm tire— meguru!" your voice climbed several octaves higher as he ignored you and delved right where he had made a mess with your unyielding juices, cum and his spit. you cried out, tried to rattle the bed with your actions.

but those sounds did nothing but make him rut the bed harder. his sweats and bedsheet were nowhere as sweet or plush as your cunt, or your mouth. but right now, it would do. he rutted, pressing his sensitive, wet cock into the fabric like an animal in heat. he wasn't ashamed to admit that he had already came once. and how could he not with your sweet voice just above him?

"m-meguru, baby." you tried to move away, but it was no use as he actively hunt you down with his tongue. he hummed against you, his words a broken mess, "yeah, what?"

"stop, please." the overstimulation was getting too much, it was going straight from your cunt to your head and you swear you were growing dumber as he wrecked you with his sultry muscle.

"no," he stuck his tongue out, teasing your swollen clit with his tip, "the monster said i cannot stop."

and maybe meguru bachira was a sadist cause he swore he came again when you whined and he answered by eating you out even more passionately.

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 06: nagi seishiro! the only kind of hard work i wanna do.

nagi seishiro thought everything was pointless, and so very energy-consuming. he had heard about ego's new scheme, he had seen you waltz around the blue lock facilities and all he wondered was: was all that hardwork with you worth it? yes. it was.

his arms pressed your back to his chest, and you were surprised by the force as he kept you pined against him. his leg snaked against yours and you found it difficult to move. rendered useless. all you could do was lay by your side, held by his arm and with his leg between yours, opening your drenched pussy to his greedy vision.

by now, everyone knew what you were upto. a succubus. a fucking witch that came just to fill their head with filthy thoughts, and wreck their cognitive senses. and now, it was nagi seishiro's turn.

"ah, ah, ah." the man tutted, shaking his head softly and the white tresses softly caressed your neck. he buried his face into your skin, inhaling you and exhaling a soft moan even though it was you getting utterly wrecked.

he knew it would be a lot of hardwork, so, yes, nagi seishiro did cheat. he went ahead and got a vibrator. a small, bullet vibrator that did more than enough work for him.

"s-sei." you cringed at how pathetic you sounded, your own voice drowning under the buzz of the toy, and the man replied against your soft skin, "hm?"

"turn on the higher intensity s-setting." your voice sounded confident, as if you weren't already making a mess on the little, buzzing adult toy even at the second setting. nagi's fingers were drenched, the sheets underneath you probably soiled with your juices.

"oh?" the snowy-haired man repeated your words in his head, "you wan' more?"

you nodded and the man pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder, muttering, "okay, then."

while you did expected a gradual increase in the vibration, you did not expect the intensity to go up to a 5, and then nagi slipping his erection within you immediately afterwards.

"feels good," the man muttered again, his voice so soft that you had to concentrate just to hear his little quips. nagi's hips pistoned in and out of you, a steady, jagged little rhythm that made sure he bumped against your g-spot drag after drag.

with a particularly harsh stroke, nagi stilled within your heat. his tip kept stationary against your kryptonite, and as he pressed the bullet vibrator to your clit, you felt a fire budding within you.

you thrashed against him but you were quickly reminded he was a professional player because he had a chokehold on your body. not one muscle moved without nagi's permission, and you were effectively all but in his control.

he was your puppeteer and you were the helpless, stupid doll he was playing with. he decided everything. from the pace of his strokes, to the intensity. he stopped as he pleased, and then started again. you almost grew frustrated, "sei, fuck me harder."

well, you should have given him clearer instructions. because now the snow-haired prodigy focused. his hips snapped, skin reddening by hitting against your skin and the tip of the vibrating toy placed perfectly on your swollen nub.

"oh my god," you rasped and nagi took it upon himself to fuck you toll you could not utter a word more. as you spasmed against his cock and he emptied himself within you, nagi seishiro could only ask one thing, "wan' more?"

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 07: reo mikage! etch me to your memory, forever.

reo mikage had all the wealth in the world. he could buy you whole if he wanted, but what was the fun in that? he wanted you to remember him. he wanted you to think of him everytime you touched yourself, everytime those wretched fucking bastards touched you.

"jus' like that," his smooth voice guided you, "go slower."

you focused on the smooth baritone of his voice, on the pretty way the syllables rang out of his mouth. you focused on his sound, because frankly, that was all you could do.

you were blindfolded, sat down on his bed and spread open for him to devour you whole.

even with all the access in the world, reo mikage didn't want anything that didn't make him work hard. so, naturally, he wanted to put on a show. he wanted to feel you follow him. he wanted to remind you who he truly was. even if ego wanted him distracted and in shambled, reo pledged to ruin ego's chess piece entirely.

"now, circle your clit." you did as you were told, pace slow and the actions well-calculated. reo smiled, a self-satisfying little thing as you followed his instructions like a lost puppy, "good girl. continue that, keep goin'."

you shook your head, already worked up with your own fingers against yourself. after being filled and defiled by each of them, just having your own fingers felt rather... bland. but as reo's voice guided you, you couldn't help but follow along.

"go faster," he instructed, his own hand falling on his hot, hard erection, "go as fast as your pathetic fucking fingers can go. yeah," he laughed, looking at how you tried to keep up the pace but faltered just a few moments in.

you felt shivers down his spine as you felt his hot breath on your inner thigh. he was so close, yet he did nothing but chant instructions, "put a finger in, and fuck yourself like it's my dick."

you tried, a helpless whine on your lip as you couldn't exactly fuck yourself as well as they could. "awh?" reo questioned, his breath so close to where you wanted it, "cannot?"

"reo, please." you tried to negotiate, still pumping a finger within yourself, "please jus' do something."

"hah," he player laughed, almost flattered at your whines, "can't. just work for it, pretty girl." he waited a moment, seeing your struggle before uttering out, "now, another finger. go on."

you put one more, and he moaned as he tugged on his own erection, "now fuck yourself open on them."

you threw your head back, finally finding some rhythm within your own digits. but as soon as you felt yourself growing hotter with your own touches, a soft hand caught your wrist and then you felt a soft, foreign kiss on your drooling cunt.

"r-reo?" you asked, taken aback by his tongue lapping at you. reo mikage hummed, his grip still tight on your wrist, "shh, just enjoy."

but there was nothing to enjoy. he stopped, making you realize his absence. "reo?" your voice grew feeble and then, you heard a deeper voice. a familiar voice. a voice that echoed against your ear, "missing me?"

rensuke kunigami?!

"huh?" you replied, confused and then a sharp smell invaded your smell. a characteristic smell. the same perfume rin itoshi always wore. and then, your heightened senses let you know that there were a lot more people in this room than you anticipated.

"told ya, didn't i?" isagi yoichi hummed, "if you ever wanted to get fucked dumb, just call us."

oh my god. what kind of a trap did ego jinpachi throw you in?

a/n: PART TWOO IS NOW UPP!! no, i will not apologize for this shit. it got me out of writers block. no, i don't take criticism. only compliments, thankyou. jokes aside, ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED WITH BLUE LOCK OMGGG. catch me writing for them day 'n night now. also, sorry if i mess up somewhere. uni started and brother, all my energy is gone. hope you like it, love ya hotties 💋💋 m.list [check out my other work mwuah]

[gor3-hound]

FUCK YOU !! (AND, UH, FUCK HER TOO) — LOGAN HOWLETT + SCOTT SUMMERS

ft. scott summers x f!reader x logan howlett

a/n: deadpool and wolverine full throttled me back into my x-men era... rewatched the first two movies and binge wrote this over the course of three hours... it's pure, shameless smut with slightly gay undertones idk what to tell you... reader is basically in place of jean!!

cw: 18+ content, double penetration, almost cucking, cheating, reader is scott's girlfriend, logan is an asshole, competitive sex?? fighting, clawsTM, biting, marking, mild possessive behavior, p in v, mild scent kink, assholery all round tbh, creampies, threesome. gay crisis for a second x

word count: 2.3k words

Scott is starting to think Logan likes his things way too much. First, it was the way he looked at you when he was first brought to the school, eyes raking over your form. Scott wasn't blind – the visor didn't impair his vision that much. He remembers walking into the room when the both of you were alone. He could sense the tension between the two of you before his presence was even made known to you.

It wasn't until a while later he'd figured out Logan probably smelt him coming. Cocky bastard probably wanted to be caught.

Then, it was his motorcycle. His very own pride and joy. Returned with an empty tank, his keys tossed to him like it was nothing. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly behind his visor as he chucked the keys back to Logan. He barely managed to reign in his irritation.

“You gonna tell me to stay away from your girl?” Scott had told him to do so after that comment, despite having the faith in you that you'd be able to avoid Logan's charms. He was clearly wrong. Logan didn't seem like the type to have much respect, but this was just taking the piss.

“Been meaning to test if these beams could pulverise Adamantium.”

All he gets in reply is a shit eating grin from Logan as he pulls away from the heated kiss Scott had walked in on, his hands still gripping your waist. You really had the audacity to get all wide-eyes and shocked, like you weren't just about to fuck Logan with your ass perched on Scott's bike.

“Shit. Scott, I'm-”

“Sorry?” He cuts off, gaze very clearly still trained on Logan despite the way his shades conceal his line of vision. “Yeah. Save it.”

“Thought I could smell that shitty hair gel.” Logan huffs, bringing his head down to nip and suck at your neck, adding to the wide array of marks he's already left. And you fucking let him, tilting your head back and gasping like it's the best thing you've ever felt. Scott's gonna kill you, then Logan, then quite possibly himself. “How long’s it take you to get that done in the mornin’ anyway, pretty boy?”

“Right. Says the guy with kitty ears?” Scott bites back, taking a few steps towards the both of you. “I'm gonna give you about three seconds to get away from my girl and my bike before we see how good your healing factor really is.”

Logan fucking laughs, kissing his way up your neck and along your jaw so he can whisper into your ear, breath hot against your skin. “Stay put for me, yeah? Shouldn't take long, sweetheart.”

He pushes away from the bike, turning around to face Scott. Cocks his head to the side like a damn dog, rolling his shoulders as his claws shoot out from his knuckles. “Don't make me embarrass you in front of your girl, Cy-clops.”

Scott fucking hates that, hates the way he drags out his name as if it's stupider than Wolverine. Hates everything about Logan, if he's being honest. Hates how easily the man manages to get under his skin every single time.

“You're such a fucking asshole, y'know that?” Scott squares up, trying his best not to hurl a beam directly at Logan with the hopes he'd be able to send him flying through the garage wall. He's meant to be a team player. Level-headed. He's not sure how the older man always reduces him to this.

“That really hurts my feelings, bub. I thought we were a team.” Logan stalks closer, and Scott's vaguely aware you've gotten up, ready to break up a fight that never comes. Claws sink into the drywall beside his head at the same time he hears you tell Logan to ‘stop’. His back hits the wall, and then the asshole leans down, lips brushing his ear just like he had to yours moments prior.

“Y'know, I can smell the changes in your scent when you're pissed, happy... Can also smell it when you're turned on.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply just to tease the man further. “So either you're really into you're girl gettin’ passed around, or you wanna fuck me. Shit, or both. Which is it, pretty boy?”

“I don't want you to fuck my girl, Logan.” Scott grits put. His looks literally can kill, and he's becoming increasingly tempted to prove that to the other man. “And I definitely don't wanna fuck you.”

“C'mere, baby.” Logan coos, gaze flicking to you. He tuts when Scott goes to move, pressing his body against his to prevent him from getting too far. “Ah-ah. Stay there, pretty boy.”

You're at Logan’s side in a second, peering up at him through your lashes like an obedient dog waiting for its next command. Shit makes Scott's blood boil, his body going rigid against the other man's.

“D'you wanna kiss me, sweetheart?” He asks you, cocking his head to the side with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. And you fucking nod, like your boyfriend isn't right there staring at you. “D'you think he wants a kiss from me, too, sweetheart? Think he deserves it? Can't have been treatin’ you right if you came runnin’ to me, huh? Maybe I should teach him?”

“Yeah, think he needs it. He's always so stressed, never wants to do anything.” Now you're airing out your relationship issues? Fucking great. Scott's practically seething now, lips parting to say something – anything – to defend himself.

He doesn't get the chance before Logan's lips crash against his. He tenses up, ready for a fight. His hands come up to push the man away, but fuck he's a good kisser. It's a lot different from a girl – rougher. There's a drag of his stubble, a pleasant burn that comes from it. His teeth sink into Scott's lower lip before tugging, then he's forcing his tongue into his mouth. Scott ends up dragging him closer, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses back.

A growl rises in Scott's throat when he hears you giggle at his reaction, but he doesn't have much time to think on it, ‘cause Logan laughs all breathy and hot into his mouth, and it's making him short circuit. The growl quickly transforms into a low whine, his lips chasing after the other man when he starts to pull back.

His eyes open just in time to watch as Logan grabs you by your hair to pull you into a needy kiss, his free hand grasping at your hip to grind you against his rapidly hardening length. Scott feels his own cock twitching to life at the sight, a breathless ‘fuck’ leaving his lips as he reaches down to palm himself through his jeans. He hasn't been this hard in months – maybe ever. He feels like a horny teenager again, leaking pre-cum steadily into the fabric of his boxers. He isn't sure what to think of it. Humiliating, is what it is.

Logan's lips are on his again, his hands sliding under his shirt, tugging him closer. He feels his cock pressing against the hard ridges of Logan's muscles, feels your own hands join his in exploring Scott's skin, your lips pressing kisses along his neck and jaw.

“Relax, Scott.” You say, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Relax, yeah. His dick is rubbing against another man's for the first time while his girlfriend is reaching around him to unbutton his jeans, and you want him to relax. This is a totally normal scenario that isn't throwing him head first into an identity crisis.

He gets lost in the hands on his body, the lips against his skin. Before he knows it, the three of you are naked and panting and pressed against each other. Scott feels like he can't breathe properly. His eyes dart between your body, and the fattest dick he's ever seen in his life. He doesn't know if he should be turned on or really, really insecure. His cock answers by jumping against his abdomen and leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum. Traitor.

Logan grunts as he lifts you up almost effortlessly, his arms resting at the back of your knees, using them as makeshift slings to hold you up against his chest, which is flush to your back. He quirks an eyebrow as Scott just stares, unmoving. “Well? You don't need me to tell you where to put your dick, do you? No wonder she's so pent up.”

“Asshole.” Scott says simply in response, stepping towards you. His words lack any real bite – he's too turned on to even think about being pissy. He fists his length leisurely a few times before lining up with your entrance, pushing forward inch by inch until his hips are flush with the backs of your thighs, your legs dangling helplessly at his sides.

You gasp and whine as Logan moves to slide in alongside your boyfriend, nails digging into his skin until Logan is buried to the hilt inside of you. Scott instantly peppers the skin of your neck with kisses, trying to soothe you.

“You alright, baby?” He asks, all soft and sweet. He's forgotten why he was mad at you in the first place, mind foggy with arousal as your cunt clenches around him.

“She's fine, bub. She can take it. Isn't that right, sweet thing.” Another whine, then a nod. It eases Scott, if only slightly, when he feels you relaxing against them. A beat passes, and then another. His eyes meet Logan’s and they both start to move – slowly, at first, before picking up the pace.

You're so much tighter like this, sucking him in desperately as he tries to find a rhythm with Logan. He can barely focus in anything but your heat and the way his cock ruts against Logan's as they both fuck into you. It's almost maddeningly hot, and he's feeling overwhelmingly anxious that he's going to cum in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

Scott leans down, his lips meeting yours as he rocks forward over and over. His lashes flutter as he sucks on your tongue, kissing you greedily. He feels a hand tugging at his hair, pulling him away from you before sharp teeth start to nip at his lower lip, a tongue bullying his way into his mouth. He sucks on Logan's, too, kissing him back just as hungrily as he did to you. He rubs soothing circles into your hips as he picks up the pace, coaxing you into relaxing further.

A growl rumbles Logan's chest when he feels Scott fucking you faster, his hips snapping against the fat of your thighs with more intensity, like he's determined to fuck you better than the other man. He's bigger, tip bullying your cervix with every thrust in a way that makes you tear up. His nose twitches as he smells the saltiness of your tears, then he's pulling away from Scott to lap them off of your face.

“Shhh, shh… you can take it, sweetheart. I know you can.” He coos softly, moving to nuzzle the crook of your neck, nose running along the skin like he's scenting you. Both men continue to slide in and out of your slick heat, grunting and groaning like animals as they chase their release.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Your boyfriend coos. Scott needs you to cum soon, because he's barely holding on as it is. He doesn't want to leave you unsatisfied – especially now he's very aware Logan will gladly pick up his slack. His hand falls from your hip to make its way between your legs, thumb rubbing circles into your clit until your muscles grow taut. He grins, sucking a possessive mark over one of the hickies Logan had left earlier. Take that, asshole.

Your walls flutter and clench around both cocks as you reach your peak, a shaky moan of Scott's name leaving your lips as your head falls back against Logan's shoulder. Check and mate.

“Hear that, kitty claws? I'm still her favourite.” He huffs out, hands returning to your hips in an almost bruising grip as he ruts helplessly inside your tight heat, balls tightening as his orgasm rapidly approaches.

“S'only ‘cause she's lookin’ at ya, dumbass.” Really, it shouldn't be Logan's gruff, fucked-out tone that drives him over the edge, but it is. He blows his load a second later, forehead dropping against the crook of your neck as he fills you with spurts of hot, white liquid. He gasps against your skin, nails digging into your plush flesh.

Logan isn't far behind, grunting as he forces every inch of his cock deep inside of you, head tipping back as he releases. The tips of his claws threaten to breach the skin of his knuckles, but he manages to suppress them enough that they never fully unsheathe. He pants softly, chest heaving as he thrusts shallowly through his orgasm.

“Fuck.” He hisses, slowly pulling out of you. He lifts you off of Scott's cock, settling you down on the seat of the motorcycle so you can all catch your breath. Logan rubs soothing circles into your back as Scott steps forward, all but slumping against you as he embraces you.

“Did so good, baby. Was perfect.” He breathes out, pressing kisses along your bare shoulder. He pulls back just enough to look at Logan, who's already lighting up a cigar. “The fuck did that even come from?”

That shit-eating grin lights up the older man's face again as he takes a few short draws from the cigar in his mouth. He exhales the smoke, pulling it out of his mouth to speak.

“Trust me, pretty boy. You really don't wanna know.”

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: ish-bullying, loser reader, popular gojo and geto, player gojo, mean-ish gojo

fem reader

Satoru didn’t get it at first.

You weren’t the typical bombshell he’d usually go for. To the naked eye, you were just any other girl he’d pass on the street, with neither a face nor a body worth doing a double take. You were average, perhaps a little above at best, but nothing sensational. Your wardrobe was drab, and so was your makeup—if you wore any—he couldn’t really tell—maybe chapstick with a dull tint and some mascara, but nothing flashy. No one would envy him if he had you on his arm���or in his bed. In fact, you were so invisible that looking at you for too long became an eyesore.

He truly didn’t understand it. Why Suguru’s dour gaze always settled on you. What could it possibly be that he saw in you that his six eyes couldn’t? 

He was desperate to figure it out. When he’d asked his raven-haired friend, he’d only spoken a bunch of nonsense that went straight over his head. And so he’d taken matters into his own hands and gone and gotten himself a good look at you up close. And by look, he means bumping straight into you and making you drop all your books onto the floor—scattered papers and everything. 

You’d landed on your butt with a wince—he’d even snuck a peak at your panties in the fall, and still, he didn’t really get what the hype was about. You were just another run-of-the-mill girl—an utter nobody.

He looks down at you with a disappointed grimace, almost frustrated with how utterly mediocre you are. Fully bored with his findings, he’s about ready to give up, ignore you, and walk away without a word, leaving you there in the puddle of your own dismal banality—almost afraid it would rub off on him like a disease.

He’s very nearly convinced he finds your presence utterly disgusting until your voice slips out and stops him dead in his tracks.

“I’m so sorry—are you okay?”

Sweetly nervous and earnestly apologetic, you call out as if he’d not been the one at fault, as if he hadn’t just committed a plain hit-and-run, as if you weren’t the one on the floor and he wasn’t standing there fully unscathed with his hands down his pockets, staring down at you like you were a filthy thing at a zoo.

You look up at him while singing your sorries—big round eyes full of something he wished he could drink—that’s how suddenly parched he felt—breathless. No, hungry. Starving, actually—as if his inner animal had just found the perfect prey.

This is it, he thinks—that thing Suguru has been admiring all this time, that something that makes the otherwise grim line of his lips softly quirk upward. And oh, it’s such a simple thing, but truly priceless all at the same time—makes him want to eat you up and lick the plate.

“I’m the one who should apologize.” His grimace smoothens into a smile as he crouches down and reaches his hand out to you like a gentleman. He’s never done so before, but it comes naturally now.

His chest swarms with warmth and noise at the pretty blush of your face as you gingerly accept his gesture—bowing your head shyly once he’s helped you back on your feet, nodding so prettily with an ever-sweet and soft-spoken “Thank you—”

He can’t believe he didn’t see it before—you’re absolutely adorable.

You even try insisting he needn’t help you gather your wayward books and belongings, but he just tuts at you—determined to observe you a little while longer as he tells you it’s no big deal, it's the least he could do after being reckless and walking right into you. 

He carries it all for you to your classroom, where you once again bow your head and sing his praises. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were trying to get rid of him with the way you apologize for taking up his time. How cute—he’s making you really nervous, isn’t he? Of course, he is—you’re a complete mess, unable to look at him for any longer than a second before looking away.

It’s funny. To think he’d been dining with his own kind for so long—all sharp-tongued vixen with claws curling themselves into him, each sinking their teeth in for a piece—when he could have instead been feasting on you.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[luveline]

kbd —Steve helps an emotional you downstairs to sate some late night cravings. pregnant!reader, 1.3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Steve stirs at the top of the bed to the sound of pinging springs. He rubs his eye, feels sleep free itself from his lashes as he pushes onto an elbow. 

“Honey?” he asks. 

You turn to him with a frown. “Sorry.” 

Steve doesn’t want you to be sorry, he was just figuring out which of his best girls it was moving around. He forces himself to sit up and turn on the lamp, unveiling the sight of you at the end of the bed in your maternity pyjamas, flowy blue fabric with white polka dots you’d bought to match Beth’s. 

“You need help?” he asks. 

You sound like you’re having a hard time breathing. “I’m trying to put my socks on.” 

“Yeah? You wanna go downstairs?” 

You always put your socks on before you go downstairs at night or in the early morning. The floors get cold no matter what you and he try to do to prevent it. He promises one day you’ll have enough money for heated floors. He’s not sure where he thinks that money is coming from. 

“I’m gonna go have some ice cream.” 

Your night time cravings lately are unstoppable. Steve pushes the sheets back and round the bed to the end, giving your face a short touch, and then getting down on his knees in front of you with his hands held out for your socks. He’d offer to go get it for you, but you’ll say no, he’s too tired. The only loophole he’s found for this is coming with you. 

You give him your socks and a sorry smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. You know what I say.” 

“Can’t sleep without me.” 

He bunches your sock up and rolls it over your toes and up past your heel, your ankle. He does it gently like he’s rolling them onto one of the kids’ feet, he can’t really help himself. He likes being gentle with you. You can’t see your toes, so you might as well have him be kind to them. 

“Can’t sleep without you,” he agrees, again bunching up the fabric of your sock to roll over your toes and heel. 

He tugs it up straight on your calf and leaves his hand there for a selfish squeeze. “There, now you’re ready. Want your robe too?” 

You frown suddenly, a familiar twist of your mouth and nose, eyebrows pinching down as your eyes fill with tears. He shakes his head at you before you can talk, his hand moving to your knee for sympathetic rubbing. “Don’t cry.” 

“You’re so nice to me.” 

“I love you,” he says, pushing himself up to stand and hug you. “Please don’t cry, Y/N, it’s just socks. I love putting your socks on for you.” 

“You treat me like a princess,” you say with a sniff. 

“You deserve it,” he promises. He wraps his arms around your head and neck, kissing your forehead with a loving sigh. “You do. Please don’t cry.” 

Once you start you can’t stop. Steve doesn’t mind calming you down, it’s not like it isn’t exactly what he signed up for, but getting upset is never good for the baby or your extremely stressed body. “Please,” he murmurs, “let’s go downstairs, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say, voice thick with tears. 

Steve wraps you in a blanket and ushers you through the master bedroom door. Your pregnancy hormones are as off the charts as they’ve ever been, though last month you’d been quite snappy. This week you’re crying multiple times a day every day. Steve keeps waiting to run out of patience, but he has a good few kids, and you’re not doing anything wrong anyways. So what if you’re crying all the time? He can’t imagine how stressful it is to be that tired and heavy like this, or how many hormones are pumping through you at the moment. He got you pregnant. It’s his job to mitigate the symptoms to the best of his ability. 

You sit down at the table, knowing without asking that he’s going to get your ice cream. He grabs it from the freezer with your favourite spoon (not so big, not so little), and passes you both with a smile. 

“There, honey.” 

Before he met you, Steve wasn’t used to pet names. He’d say baby and babe, he was a player, then heartbroken, and they’d come out weird because he didn’t really mean them, or he didn’t get what they meant in the first place. He calls you honey and he feels at once like the husband he is but it’s more than that. You’re his honey. You deserve to know how much you mean to him with every sentence he says, and there’s no easier way to do that than to pester you with pet names. 

You use them just as much as he does. “Thanks, handsome.” 

“Do you want anything else?” 

Again, your frown, tears in your eyes as you peel the lid off of pint and pick up your spoon. “I’m fine,” you say tearily. 

Steve scoots a chair as close to yours as is physically possible and sits, his hand falling to your knee. He’d squeeze your thigh if it wasn’t impeded by the round hill of your bump, the biggest it’s ever been. From the start of next week onward you can expect to go into labour. Within the month, you’ll have had the baby. 

Steve can’t wait for it, and he’ll bet you can’t wait to be done. He says your name softly, giving the side of your leg a great massage, “Y/N, it’s okay.” 

“I know, I just love you,” you say through a mouthful of ice cream, the spoon still on your lips. 

“I love you too, honey, don’t worry about it.” 

“Do you want some?” 

He knows saying no won’t help. It’s probably four in the morning and he can’t imagine anything less appetising at the late hour, but he says, “Yeah. Just a little bit. I’m watching my figure.” 

You laugh, still full of tears, and scoop up some ice cream to feed him. When he’s had it, he presses forward for a kiss, to your delight. Steve doesn’t mean to brag, but he knows you well. Cheering you up is easy. He steals a second kiss just for him and beams at the reaction it invokes, breathless laughter that doesn’t fade as you scoop up another spoonful of ice cream. 

“How come the baby never wants something we can keep in the bedroom?” Steve asks. 

“She’s like her sisters.” 

“Yes she is,” Steve says, moving in for another squeeze of your leg. “Can’t wait to meet her.” 

You lean your head on his shoulder, ice cream dripping from your spoon. “She can’t wait to meet you, Steve. She’s kicking every time she hears your voice. I think she knows how good you are to me.” You clear your throat. “She can tell you’re the nicest guy ever.” 

He shushes you tenderly. “Come on, honey, no more crying. I’ll have to start being mean to you instead, nobody wants that, I don’t want that.” 

“Please don’t be mean to me.” 

Your hurt voice startles him. “I’m just kidding.” He kisses your temple. “You think I’d do that? I can’t do that to you, babe, I don’t want to.” 

He spends twenty minutes convincing you he was just kidding while you weep into his shoulder. 

Poor girl, he thinks sorrily.

[starkeyisthelastname]

about dilf husband rafe, can you please make about reader, their son and daughter. more details and more updates about them!!! this is so fun

a little glimpse into the dream life ☁️💖

It was no secret that people were envious of you and the kind of lifestyle you lived as Rafe Cameron’s wife and the being the mother of his children. Designer bag draped across your arm, hair and makeup always done to perfection, huge diamond ring on your manicured hand. You had known Rafe for most of your life, having grown up together. It wasn’t until the end of your freshman year that the two of you became a thing. You and Rafe were crazy about each other, spending nearly every day together until you graduated high school. It was only when you had turned 18 that you found out you were pregnant with your first child.

Your son looks just like Rafe, with the exception of a few of your features. He’s in his senior year now and is a popular football player. Rafe is tough on him, but only because he wants the best for his son. He is definitely hangs out with his dad a lot, is into everything athletic, charming and cocky. He’s proud to be a kook, much like someone we know.

Your daughter is your twin with Rafe’s striking blue eyes. She is wrapped around his finger from the moment she’s born. She has always been a daddy’s girl and gets away with a lot. She’s now a freshman in high school, and is a popular cheerleader. She takes after you when it comes to her love of shopping and all things girly. She’s kinda of a brat and Rafe gives her pretty much whatever she wants at that.

Rafe works a good job at Cameron Development. His dad had let him work right underneath him, letting him make several big decisions when it came to the company. He made really good money, and loved to show it off. The house is built the way you want, beautiful and expensive. It’s gated, you have a huge closet and a crystal clear pool with an attached hot tub. You both drive expensive cars, and dress nicely. The family goes on vacations out of the country year round, even you and Rafe having a few fun little get aways. He spoils you rotten, I’m talking about buys you flowers and all the shopping you could ever want with his black amex.

[a-pute11as]

Magic Touch

warnings - MNDI 18+ suggestive

words - 1434

“Again?” you huff for the third time, as you lay face down on the floor as play continued around you. You had been purposely tripped up, multiple times. You could hear your teammates around calling for play to stop, however considering this ref had a personal vendetta against you, you know it’s no use so you’re quick to get back up and brush yourself off even when the opposition player had now committed several clear fouls against you. 

You continued to play, actively avoiding the player who had given you a hard time for the past 60 minutes of play. Every minute that ticked on made your anger build. 

A corner was awarded in Barca’s favour allowing Alexia a few moments to catch up with you, she knew you inside and out which meant she knew exactly how you felt in the moment.

“Dios mios, she better not touch you again, estás bien?” She asked, taking hold of your shoulders and inspecting you thoroughly. You nodded in response, not wanting to verbalise how angry the situation had made you, knowing if you started complaining about the obvious mistreatment then you probably wouldn’t stop. 

“I’ll make sure this ref doesn’t step foot onto a pitch ever again” She added, her obvious over-protective side taking over, the anger was evident on her face.

You shook your head, “No Ale, it’s okay, she’s doing her job” You sighed, moving yourself into position for the corner, trying your best to ignore the anger that was coursing through your body. 

Luckily you were positioned well allowing the ball to come off your head, straight to the feet of Pina who was able to angle the ball through the crowd of defenders and right into the back of the net. The goal had given you a chance to breathe, Barca was already 3-0 but being able to earn an assist allowed a moment of relief where you felt as if you had done something right during your time on the pitch. 

You celebrated with your team, everyone bounding into a group hug that nearly knocked both you and Pina off your feet. You were congratulated with a round of pats on the top of your head before Ale found you. 

“Even when you’re being fucked, you’re still a superstar” She whispered, as she held your face with both hands and beamed down towards you. Even if the duration of the game had left you frustrated, angry and straight up pissed off, Ale always found a way to make you feel seen and valued. “Mi superestrella”, she added, placing a kiss on your forehead before running back to her position to restart play. 

Running off the temporary euphoria from your assist you felt as if you were finally able to show what you were capable of, yet it wasn’t long until you were back on the floor.

This time the player had committed a clear foul that was very much in need of a yellow card, you were both floored and she was rolling with her knee in her hands. You laid on the floor with your hands gripping at your head as the pain grew every time you breathed. 

“Are you okay?” Ingrid said, kneeling down at your side. There was a gash across your cheekbone that had begun to trickle with blood. All you could do was nod as the sting overtook your senses. 

Out of the side of your eyes you watched as the ref held up a yellow card and pointed it towards you. Alexia had been truly aggravated, as the captain, her previous calls for the player to be fouled should’ve been paid attention to, yet the ref completely disregarded her words. You heard Alexia arguing with the ref and the player that had floored you, she continuously insisted that the ref had allowed multiple fouls against you and that a yellow card was beyond ridiculous. The argument had preoccupied the ref so much that she didn’t bother to call over the medics waiting on the side.

You steadied yourself enough to get up, much to the protest of your teammates around you. Even though the world was slightly spinning, you needed to stand up for yourself. The attention was quickly turned on you as Alexia’s eyes flashed with worry. The throbbing pain throughout your face didn’t stop you from arguing with the official in front of you. A few curse words later, another yellow card was swung up into your direction, quickly followed by a red card. You had never meant to take it that far, but the anger you felt was quick to release and the cut across your face only fuelled that, you were treated unfairly and you wanted to make that clear. 

Your eyes pricked with tears as you marched yourself off the pitch, clutching your cheek as you went straight down the tunnel, unaware of the scene that was still unfolding behind you. Multiple of your teammates continued arguing with the ref, to the point where Alexia was pulled away by Irene and Patri was also given a yellow card. 

The game continued and as soon as full time hit, Alexia raced down the tunnel to find you, she had no intention of stopping for any reason. You were sat on the bench in the locker room with your head in your hands, tears stained down your face, your breath heavy and fast and a gauze covering the cut. 

“Amor, are you okay?” Alexia asked, kneeling down in-front of you, her hands resting on top of yours. 

“I’m sorry ale, I’m so bad at this and I know you’re so disappointed, I can’t believe I got that red card, it was stupid and reckless and I shouldn’t have started swearing, fuck, I know i’ll be back on the bench again and I’ll get dropped from the England squad. I can’t believe i’ve fucked up this bad” The words split out of your mouth as your rambling started and refused to end, your anxiety was through the roof as your mind was running at a 100 miles per hour and you couldn’t figure out how to slow it down. “I’m so sorry, I am so so fucking sorry ale” You added, tears now spilling out of your eyes again.

“Carino, listen to me, i’m not disappointed in you at all, you did nothing wrong” She tilted your head up so your eyes would meet. “Nothing like that will happen, it’s one or two games that you’ll miss and then you’ll be back like nothing ever happened” She continued to reassure you as your breathing slowed down and the tears stopped flowing from your eyes. 

“I feel so shit” You sighed, your breathing returning to normal. The whole situation had made you numb.

Alexia took a second to think before a slight smirk appeared on her face, “Let me make you feel better”.

“Babe, I don’t know” You sighed. 

“You know I can make you feel so…” She ran her hands up the outside of your thighs painfully slow, “so much better”. 

You contemplated it, you knew ale had a magic touch, and it certainly did make you feel better. 

“Let me show you how good I can make you feel, I can make you forget about all of this” Her hands sat on the tops of your thighs as her fingers traced patterns over your skin. “You can show me just how good you are for me, can’t you?” She questioned, one hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You couldn’t help but nod in response, the effect she had on you was massive and that was all you needed to hear to make you weak at the knees and you’d most likely end up on your knees too. 

“Let’s go home?” She suggested, rising to her feet and holding her hand out for you to take. 

“What about your post-match stuff?” You asked, your face scrunched up, hesitant to take her hand in case you were about to take her away from something important that she was actually required to do. 

“Nothing is more important to me right now than making you feel better” She smirked, “And i’m sure they’d all understand”.

You took her hand, rising to your feet and swinging your bag over your arm as she led you out of the stadium and straight to her car. You had a very overprotective alexia on your hands and one that was determined to make you forget about the mess that occurred on the pitch.

[misaerabl]

Off The Ice

HOCKEY PLAYER ABBY X JOURNALIST READER 

MINORS and MEN DNI / Word count: 9.9k words 

SUMMARY: You were tasked with covering your university’s women’s hockey team, you see it as your chance to prove yourself worthy of becoming the next chief editor. Your main focus is Abby Anderson, the team’s star forward known for her cold, distant reputation. After observing her a few times, you’re surprised when she starts to warm up to you—unveiling a side of her no one else seems to see.

WARNINGS: scissoring, eating out, fingering (both a and r receiving and giving). I would say this is kind of a fluff with smut TT.

A/N: this is my early Christmas present tee hee.. I went on a bit of a whim writing this…  SMUT WITH PLOT or PLOT WITH SMUT WTV (please let me know if I miss any warnings!)

 ⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The newsroom is buzzing with the usual chaos of deadlines and last-minute assignments. You’re sitting at your desk, scrolling through your laptop when your editor, Dina, stands by the door, holding a clipboard with the next round of assignments.

“Alright, people, we’ve got some big matches coming up,” she says, her eyes scanning the room. “I need someone to cover the women’s hockey team. We’ve got scouts coming to the next game, so make sure it’s more than just a game recap. I want a real story, got it?”

You glance up, the opportunity immediately catching your attention. The women’s team has been making waves lately, and Abby Anderson, the star forward, has been all anyone’s talking about. Known for her ruthless play and icy demeanor, she’s a force on the ice but practically a ghost off it. No one has really gotten the chance to uncover what makes her tick.

“I’ll do it,” you say, raising your hand before anyone else can speak up.

Dina looks at you, surprised. “You sure? It’s a tough one. A lot of pressure to get a unique angle.”

“I think I’ve got a good angle,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I want to write about the team, but also about her. There’s more to Abby than just her game stats.”

Dina raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Alright, you’ve got the job. But make it count.”

As she walks away, you can’t help but feel a rush of excitement mixed with nerves. This could be your shot at making your mark—and maybe even getting that chief editor position. You grab your notebook, already mentally outlining your approach. The real challenge, though, won’t be writing the story—it’ll be getting past Abby’s walls.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

A few weeks later, you're sitting in the stands of the rink, notebook in hand, watching the women’s hockey team practice. The cold air cuts through the arena, but you're too focused on your task to notice.

Abby Anderson moves like a storm on the ice. Her swift, powerful strides cut through the rink with precision, her eyes locked on the puck, her focus unbreakable. She’s the kind of player who makes it look easy, but you know there’s more to it than that.

You’ve been attending practices for days now, trying to catch glimpses of Abby when she’s not in game mode. But so far, she’s kept her distance. She’s all business, all the time, barking orders at her teammates and keeping her interactions brief. If anyone speaks to her off the ice, it's either short and to the point or completely ignored. You’ve yet to get more than a few sentences out of her.

You jot down a few notes, trying to focus on the team’s dynamics, but your eyes keep drifting back to Abby. She's skating alone now, practicing shots at the net, her intense movements betraying any hint of vulnerability. You wonder if she ever lets anyone see that side of her—the one that's not all about hockey, about being the best.

“Hey.”

You jump, startled, and look up to find Abby standing next to the railing, her skates still on, but her posture relaxed. She looks at you with an unreadable expression.

“Uh, hey,” you reply, quickly trying to gather yourself. "Just—just taking some notes. You know, for the article."

She nods, glancing at the rink before looking back at you. “How’s it going so far? Got a good story yet?”

You hesitate, unsure how much of the truth to reveal. “I’m still working on it. It’s hard to find the angle everyone’s expecting… but I think I’ll get there.”

Abby studies you for a moment, her face still as hard to read as always. “Just don’t make me sound like a robot on the ice. I know how that goes.” She smirks, her first real hint of a smile.

You can’t help but laugh, relieved. “I’ll do my best to capture the whole picture. Not just the stats.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Good. Keep it real.”

With that, she turns and heads back to the ice, leaving you standing there, heart racing slightly faster than usual. You watch her skate off, feeling the weight of the conversation. It wasn’t much, but it was more than you had before. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to get past her walls.

But you also know it’s just the beginning. There's more to Abby Anderson than the game, and you’re determined to find it.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

A few days later, you’re standing in front of Abby’s dorm, the familiar nerves creeping in. The article deadline is approaching fast, and you’re still struggling to break past Abby’s walls. But today is different. After days of awkward exchanges and hesitant small talk after practice, you finally managed to convince her to sit down for a real interview.

You took a deep breath, knocked on the door, and heard the faint shuffle of movement from inside. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing Abby in a casual hoodie and sweatpants, her hair pulled back in her signature braid. The intense, icy exterior you were used to wasn’t there—she looked... normal, like a regular college student.

"Hey," she said, offering a small, almost reluctant smile. "Come on in."

You stepped inside, feeling the warmth of the room instantly contrast with the chilly vibe Abby often projected. The space was clean but a bit cluttered, with hockey gear tossed on one side and textbooks scattered on her desk. It felt strangely intimate like you were seeing a side of Abby no one else ever had access to.

"Sorry about the mess," Abby muttered, gesturing to the pile of equipment. "I’m usually just too tired after practice to clean."

"No worries," you said, taking a seat on the edge of the desk. "Thanks for agreeing to this. I know you’re not exactly a fan of interviews."

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, instead grabbing two water bottles from a shelf and tossing one to you. "Let’s just get this over with," she said, her tone a little more playful than usual. It was as if the pressure from earlier had eased just a bit.

You smiled, grateful for her willingness. "I won’t take too much of your time. Just a few questions about... well, everything. Hockey, life. What it’s really like being Abby Anderson, off the ice."

She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms as she considered your question. "What it's really like..." she echoed, her gaze briefly flicking to the window as if pondering the words. "You make it sound like I'm some mystery."

"Maybe you are," you said, more candidly than you expected. "No one really knows you beyond the ice. You're always the tough player who doesn't talk to anyone off the rink." 

Abby’s gaze softened at your words, but she didn’t respond right away. Instead, she fiddled with the water bottle in her hands, turning it absently as she seemed to think about what to say. There was a quiet tension in the air, one that neither of you had expected when you first agreed to sit down.

"Yeah, I guess I come off like that, huh?" Abby finally said, breaking the silence. Her voice had a quiet edge to it, almost as if she was admitting something she hadn’t said out loud before. "I don’t really know how to be any different. It’s easier this way."

You felt a shift in the atmosphere, like she was allowing herself to be more open than she ever had before. The moment was subtle, but you couldn’t ignore it.

"I get that," you said softly, leaning forward. "But you’re more than just a hockey player, Abby. I mean, you’ve got layers—there’s got to be more to you than what we see on the ice."

Abby’s eyes met yours then, the intensity of her gaze making your heart skip a beat. For a brief second, you thought she might brush you off again, but instead, she looked almost… vulnerable.

"You think so?" she asked, her voice quieter now, as though she was testing you, seeing if you’d take her seriously.

You nodded, feeling a sense of connection you hadn’t expected to feel. "Yeah, I do."

A moment of silence stretched between you, and you could feel the energy in the room shift. The playful banter had evaporated, replaced by something deeper, more intense. Abby’s eyes lingered on yours, her lips pressing together as if fighting back something unspoken. You weren’t sure what was happening, but it was as if the ice around her was finally starting to melt, and in the stillness of her dorm, the rest of the world seemed to fade away.

"I don’t usually do this," Abby said, her voice a little breathless. "Let people in, I mean."

The admission hung in the air, and you realized how rare this moment was for her. It was raw, real, and far from the icy persona she’d shown everyone else. There was no game face now, no walls.

"You don’t have to let anyone in," you replied, your voice lower now, almost without thinking. "But I’m not like everyone else, Abby."

She took a step closer, her eyes searching yours for a moment. Then, without another word, Abby’s hand reached out, brushing against yours—light at first, like she was testing the waters. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart raced as the proximity between you grew more charged, more electric.

"Are you sure about that?" she whispered, her voice shaky, unsure, but her eyes steady as she closed the space between you.

Before you could respond, Abby leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft but insistent. You could feel the toned, muscular strength in her arms as she held you, her hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The warmth of her body radiated against yours, the firmness of her form pressing gently but surely as her fingers slid into your hair. It was as if her whole presence surrounded you—strong, sure, yet still carrying a touch of hesitation.

The kiss deepened as Abby caressed your hair gently, her fingers threading through it with a tenderness that belied her fierce persona on the ice. It was a contrast—the hard, determined athlete and the softness of the way she touched you. The moment felt like a contradiction, one that both of you were willing to embrace.

When she finally pulled away, her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. She looked at you with wide eyes, lips slightly parted as if she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Her hand remained in your hair, fingers still grazing your scalp.

Abby’s hand lingered in your hair, her touch soft but steady, as though she needed a moment to ground herself. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, eyes still locked on yours, as if searching for something—answers, maybe, or reassurance that this wasn’t just a fleeting moment.

"That was..." Abby’s voice trailed off, her lips curling into a small, uncertain smile. "I didn’t think you’d be... like that."

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the kiss. "Like what?"

Abby shrugged, a little bashful for the first time since you met her. "I don’t know. I guess I just figured you’d be... different."

"Different how?" you asked, your voice quieter now, but there was a playful edge to it.

"Like... not so—" She gestured vaguely between the two of you, looking for the right words. "I don’t know. You’re not what I expected."

It was your turn to feel a little bashful. You didn’t know what to make of this sudden shift in dynamics, but there was something about Abby’s vulnerability, her uncertainty, that made you feel like maybe this—whatever this was—wasn’t just some random kiss. It felt more like a beginning.

"Maybe I’m not," you replied softly. "Maybe we’re both surprising each other."

Abby’s eyes softened at that, and she gave a slow nod. She seemed to be processing everything in silence, unsure of how to label the moment. She was still the tough, intense player on the ice, but the cracks in that persona were becoming more apparent now.

"Don’t go thinking this means I’m some open book now," Abby warned with a smirk, though there was no real bite to it. "I’m still the same Abby Anderson."

You laughed lightly, the tension easing between you two. "I never thought you were an open book."

"Good," Abby replied, her smile returning, warmer than before. She finally pulled her hand from your hair, though she kept her gaze locked on you, her lips still lingering with a hint of the kiss you’d just shared. "But maybe... just maybe... we can see where this goes."

You nodded slowly, your heart still racing, but your chest felt lighter, freer as if a new chapter was just beginning to unfold. "I’m willing to find out."

The quiet between you lingered, the air between you charged with something unspoken. Abby’s eyes softened, and for the first time, she didn’t seem like the intimidating hockey player. She was just Abby, standing in front of you, her vulnerability laid bare.

"Maybe we don’t need to talk about the article anymore," she murmured, her voice low, almost like she was thinking out loud. "Maybe we can just... be here for a bit."

Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could respond, Abby was standing up, closing the space between you. The shift in her demeanor was subtle but unmistakable. She was no longer the distant athlete; she was someone who wanted more than just the interview.

"You make it hard to stay guarded," she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear, her breath warm against your skin. Her hands slid to your waist, gently pulling you closer. Her body was strong, and solid, but there was a softness in the way she touched you, a tenderness you hadn’t expected.

You swallowed, your pulse racing as you met her eyes. "Abby..." You couldn’t find the right words, but you didn’t need to. The air between you both was thick with the weight of what was about to happen.

Abby’s lips found yours again, more urgent this time, less like a question and more like an answer. She kissed you deeply, her hands threading into your hair as she pulled you closer, her body pressing against yours with a heat that made everything else fade away. The kiss was slow, deliberate, as though she was savoring the moment. Her arms wrapped around you, holding you tight, like she was afraid to let you go as if the distance between you both had only made her want you more.

You melted into her embrace, your hands finding their way to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as if you could close the gap that had always been there between you. She groaned softly, the sound low in her throat, sending a thrill through you.

When the kiss finally broke, Abby’s forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily. Her hands gently cupped your face, her thumbs brushing across your cheeks as if memorizing the feel of you.

"I’ve been wanting this," she admitted, her voice hushed. "More than I thought I would."

You smiled, still feeling the rush of the moment. "Yeah," you whispered back. "Me too."

Abby’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. "This doesn’t change anything, right?" she asked, her voice a little uncertain. 

You gently cupped her face, your fingers tracing the sharp line of her jaw as if to reassure her. "No," you said softly. "But maybe we can figure out what comes next..."

Her lips curled into a smile, and for the first time, it wasn’t guarded. It was real, and it was for you. "Yeah," she whispered, closing the distance again, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that felt like the beginning of something neither of you was ready to define just yet, but both of you were willing to explore.

And as the kiss deepened, you realized that no matter what happened after this, you had stepped past the barrier that had once kept you both apart. Whatever came next, it was something neither of you were willing to walk away from…

She pushes you down on the couch, her body hovering above you. She stares deeply into your eyes as if she was asking for permission. You nod in response. 

Abby buries her face in your neck, kissing and nipping it, making you moan in response 

Abby's touch is confident and assertive, her hands roaming your body with an intensity that mirrors her personality on the ice. She knows what she wants, and she's not afraid to take it. Her fingers trace patterns on your skin, igniting sparks wherever they touch.

Her hands slid under your shirt, her fingertips trailing along your sides, feeling the soft skin beneath. You gasped at the touch, your hips bucking slightly. Abby took advantage of this, her hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer as she deepened the kiss.

She broke away from your lips, her breath hot against your neck as she whispered, "Can I... can we...?" She nuzzled her nose against your jaw, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, "Can I take this off?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, and she reached for the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up and over your head.

As your shirt hit the floor, Abby's eyes roamed over your bare chest, taking in every detail. She reached out, tracing a finger over your collarbone, down your sternum, and across your abdomen, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake.

Her touch was light, reverent, as if she was worshipping your body. She looked up at you, her eyes dark with desire, and leaned down to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your chest.

You hissed in a breath at the warmth of her mouth, your fingers tangling in her hair. She continued to place kisses all over your chest, her hands roaming over your curves. She paused at the waistband of your skirt, looking up at you for confirmation.

Seeing your nod, she hooked her fingers under the hem, pulling it up and off. She took a moment to appreciate what was revealed - your smooth legs, the curve of your hips, the lacy underwear that matched your bra.

Abby's hands slid up your legs, her touch leaving a path of tingling heat. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of your underwear, her eyes locked with yours. "Can I...?" she asked again, her voice barely above a whisper, full of need and uncertainty.

“Go ahead abby…” 

With a nod and a shy smile, Abby slowly slid your underwear off, tossing it aside. She paused, her eyes taking in every inch of you, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your inner thigh.

She heard you suck in a breath above her, and she looked up at you with a mischievous grin. Slowly, she leaned in, her hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place as she pressed her mouth to you, her tongue parting your folds.

She started slowly, exploring you, learning what you liked. Your moans filled the room, encouraging her. She slipped a finger inside you, her mouth continuing its administration. You let out a low moan, your hands fisting the couch cushion as you tried to keep yourself grounded.

She added another finger, stretching you, preparing you. Your moans grew louder, your hips moving in rhythm with her actions. Abby looked up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears at your beauty. She withdrew her fingers and climbed up your body, claiming your mouth in a passionate kiss.

You could taste yourself on her, the evidence of her ministrations. You moaned into the kiss, wrapping your legs around her waist, pulling her closer. "Abby..." you whispered, your voice shaky,

"Mmm?" She murmured against your lips, grinding against you. She was still fully clothed, her pants rough against your bare skin.

"You're still dressed..." You panted, your hands reaching for the hem of her shirt. She grinned and sat up, pulling her shirt off in a swift motion. She reached behind her back, unhooking her bra and tossing it aside.

Her breasts bounced free, and you reached up to grasp them, squeezing and kneading them in your hands. Abby let out a pleased moan, her hands reaching for the button of her pants. She popped it open and slid the zipper down, shoving her pants and underwear down her legs.

Now Abby was completely naked, sitting astride you. You looked at her, taking in her toned stomach, her full breasts, the curve of her hips, her muscular thighs. She saw the awe in your eyes, and it made her feel powerful.

With a predatory grin, Abby lowered herself onto you. She wrapped her legs around yours, crossing her ankles behind your knees. She slowly rocked against you, her wetness rubbing against yours. You gasped at the new sensation, your hands gripping her thighs as she continued to move against you.

She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against yours as she captured your mouth in a deep kiss. She sped up her pace, her breath coming in short pants against your lips. She reached one hand down between them, her fingers finding that bundle of nerves and rubbing in time with her movements.

You cried out into the kiss, your hips bucking up to meet hers. The sensation of her rubbing against you, combined with her fingers on your clit, was too much. You felt your orgasm building, your vision blurring as Abby continued to grind against you.

"Abby... Ab... I'm... I'm..." You stuttered, your words cut off by a moan as she quickened her pace. She felt you convulse against her, your hands clutching at her back, your face buried in her neck.

She smiled to herself, pleased with the effect she was having on you. She kept scissoring against you, her own orgasm building. "Look at you," she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "You're so… perfect.”

As she spoke, she felt her own climax approaching. She increased the pressure between her legs, rubbing herself against you with frantic intensity. With a loud cry, she came, her hips jerking against yours as her orgasm overtook her.

She collapsed on top of you, her breath hot against your neck. You ran your fingers up and down her back, feeling the dampness of her sweat. "Abby... that was..." you started, but words failed you. She just chuckled and nuzzled your neck. "I know,”

She stayed on top of you, her arms wrapped around you in a loose hug. Her fingers traced patterns on your stomach as she nuzzled your neck, inhaling your scent. "Can we just…”

"...Stay like this for a while?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She nuzzled your neck again, her body pressing closer against yours. She felt content, happier than she had in a long time. She felt a connection with you, a bond forged in the heat of passion.

You nodded, not wanting to break the moment. You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close as you both lay there in silence. The only sound was the gentle rise and fall of your breathing and the soft rustling of the sheets.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The next day came faster than you expected. You’d barely gotten any sleep, your mind constantly replaying everything that had happened after. But as you sat in the café near the university, waiting for Abby, your heart settled into something more focused. Today wasn’t about the sparks from the night before. Today was about the interview.

The café was quiet, the kind of place where you could lose yourself in the hum of conversation and the clink of cups and saucers. It was cozy, with warm light spilling from overhead lamps, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You had a lot on your mind, not just about Abby, but about the article and what this interview could mean for your future with the paper. If you did this right, if you got Abby to open up like she never had before, you might be able to prove yourself worthy of the next chief editor position.

A few moments later, the door to the café opened, and there she was.

Abby stepped inside, her usual confidence radiating from her as she scanned the room, her eyes locking onto you instantly. She was dressed casually—athletic but comfortable—and yet she carried herself with the same quiet intensity that made her a standout on the ice. Her gaze softened when she saw you, and the familiar spark of something more was there again, just beneath the surface.

She walked over to the table, giving you a small but genuine smile. "Hey," she greeted, taking a seat across from you. "You doing okay?"

You nodded, trying to steady yourself. "Yeah. Just a little nervous."

"Don't be," she said, her voice reassuring. "It’s just coffee, right?"

"Yeah. Just coffee," you echoed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "But you know... a little more than that, too. A real interview."

Abby chuckled, glancing around the café. "Right, well, let's make it count then."

You both ordered your drinks and for a moment, there was an easy silence between you. The pressure of the moment, of what had passed between you both, seemed to be melting away, replaced by something more comfortable, natural.

Finally, you picked up your notebook and pen, getting down to business. "Alright," you began, your voice steady but a little softer than usual. "Let’s start with hockey. You’ve been the team’s top scorer for a while now. How does it feel to be in the spotlight like that?"

Abby leaned back in her chair, her eyes focused on you. "It’s... a lot of pressure. But it’s part of the job. Being in the spotlight is something you just get used to. Especially when your team depends on you."

There was a confidence in her tone, but also something more—something that suggested the weight of being the best wasn’t always as easy as it seemed. You could sense the layers beneath her tough exterior, and you knew this was where the real interview would begin.

You pushed forward, asking more questions, and letting the conversation flow. As you spoke, Abby opened up more than you expected, revealing not just her thoughts on hockey, but glimpses of who she was outside the rink. She was driven, and focused, but there was a vulnerability to her that only seemed to surface when she talked about her team, her passions, and the sacrifices she’d made to get where she was.

The interview wasn’t just about facts anymore—it was about connection. And for a moment, you forgot about the article entirely.

After a while, Abby leaned forward, her eyes locking with yours, and you could feel the shift again. There was a quiet tension hanging between you both as if the world outside the café had faded away, and only the two of you existed in this small, intimate moment.

"You know," Abby said softly, her voice almost playful now, "you asked a lot of questions, but you haven’t told me anything about you. What made you want to write about me? About hockey?"

You blinked, taken off guard by her question. You hadn’t expected her to turn the tables. "I... guess I thought you were an interesting story. I mean, you’re kind of a mystery to everyone. The tough hockey player. The star who doesn’t talk to anyone off the ice."

Abby’s smile was small, but it felt meaningful. "I’m not really a mystery. Just... focused. You get that, right?"

You nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. "Yeah, I get it."

For a long moment, you both just sat there, the sound of the café filling the silence between you. The interview was far from over, but something had changed. It wasn’t just about the article anymore. It was about something else—something you both hadn’t been ready to acknowledge yet, but it was there, lingering in the air between you.

"You know," you said after a beat, "I think this might be one of the best interviews I’ve done."

Abby’s gaze softened. "Glad I could make it interesting," she said, her voice quiet but warm.

And as you sat there, talking about everything and nothing, you realized that what had started as a simple interview had turned into something else entirely. A new chapter, one you weren’t sure how to write, but were willing to explore.

 ⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The final game of the season was just days away, and the energy around campus was electric. You could feel the anticipation building with every passing hour. The women’s hockey team had worked tirelessly all season, and now, the championship was within reach. For Abby and the rest of the team, it was the culmination of all their hard work. For you, it was the final stretch to prove you could handle the pressure of being the next chief editor of the school paper.

You’d passed the draft of your interview to Dina, the current editor-in-chief, and she had loved it. The words flowed smoothly, and she could sense the connection between you and Abby without you having to spell it out. That feedback had given you the confidence to continue pushing forward, not just for the article, but for everything you had on the line.

But the days leading up to the final game felt like a whirlwind. You and Abby were both consumed with your responsibilities—her with the team’s last-minute practices and preparation, you with your final edits and deadlines. It wasn’t the ideal time for the two of you to reconnect, but you knew that after the game, everything would settle, and maybe you could find out what this—whatever it was—meant.

You found yourself in the quiet corner of the student lounge, typing away on your laptop, trying to finish your article before the big game. Your mind kept wandering back to Abby, though—how her smile lingered after the interview, how she’d looked at you across the café that day, like there was something more she wanted to say but couldn’t.

You hadn’t had time to talk since that day, and now, with the pressure mounting on both sides, you weren’t sure when you’d get the chance to sit down with her again.

The door to the lounge opened, and you didn’t look up right away, assuming it was just another student coming in for a late-night study session. But then, a familiar voice broke through your concentration.

"Hey, you."

You froze, the sound of Abby’s voice sending a familiar rush through your chest. When you looked up, you found her standing there, dressed in a hoodie and sweats, her long hair tied back in a messy bun. She looked exhausted, but there was a spark in her eyes.

"Abby?" you asked, surprised but a little relieved to see her. You hadn’t expected her to stop by.

"Yeah," she said with a small grin, taking a step closer. "I, uh, figured we should talk before the big day. We’ve both been too busy, haven’t we?"

You nodded, feeling a rush of excitement mixed with nerves. "Yeah, it’s been crazy. I’ve barely had time to breathe with everything going on."

"I get that," she said, her eyes softening. "But I wanted to check in with you. How’s the article coming along? You’re going to be on top of the world when they publish it, you know that, right?"

A warmth spread through you at her words. "It’s... going well," you said, trying to hide the excitement in your voice. "I think Dina liked the draft. She said it’s one of the best interviews she’s read in a while."

Abby raised an eyebrow, a proud smile tugging at her lips. "I’m glad to hear that." She leaned against the table, her tone turning more playful. "But you better not make me look too good. I don’t want to get all cocky before the game."

You laughed softly, the familiar spark between you two returning. "I think I can keep it balanced."

Abby’s smile faded just slightly as she looked at you more seriously. "Listen, about... what happened before. I know we’ve both been busy, but I just wanted to say... I don’t regret it. Us, I mean." She paused, her gaze softening. "I guess I’m just trying to figure out what this all means, but I don’t want to run from it, either."

Your heart skipped a beat, the tension in the air thick with unspoken words. "Me neither," you said quietly. "I don’t know what this is, but I’m willing to see where it goes. After the game, maybe we can talk more."

Abby nodded, a small, genuine smile returning to her face. "Yeah. We’ll figure it out." She glanced at the clock on the wall, then back at you. "I should go, get some rest. Big game tomorrow, right?"

You nodded, feeling that familiar pang of disappointment that she had to leave so soon. "Yeah. Good luck, Abby."

She paused at the door, turning back to face you. "Thanks. And... I’ll see you there," she said with a wink before she disappeared into the night.

As you sat back in your chair, you couldn’t help but smile. Despite everything—despite the pressure of the article, the looming championship game, and the uncertainty about what you and Abby were becoming—you couldn’t deny the excitement buzzing in your chest. Tomorrow was the big day, and whatever came after, you knew you’d both be ready.

The final game had arrived, and the energy around campus was palpable. The buzz in the air was electric, with every student and faculty member talking about the championship match. You could feel the weight of the moment—this wasn’t just any game. For Abby and the team, it was the culmination of months of grueling practice, sacrifices, and determination. And for you, it was the finish line for your article—and maybe something more.

You had finalized your piece, and after getting Dina’s approval earlier that morning, there was nothing left to do but wait for the game to unfold. But as you stood at the rink, the sense of anticipation made it hard to focus on anything else. You watched as the team prepared, Abby at the forefront, looking every bit the fierce competitor you had come to admire.

Her movements were fluid, and powerful, slicing through the ice like she owned it. You found yourself drawn to her, to the way she held herself—confidence in every stride, but you could also sense something else, something beneath the surface. And though you tried to concentrate on taking notes for the article, every so often, you’d glance at her, catching her eye.

You were almost caught up in the rhythm of the game when the buzzer sounded, signaling the start. The intensity was immediate, the tension tangible in the arena. The crowd’s roars filled your ears, the game beginning in a blur of motion. You scribbled down observations, the action on the ice more chaotic than you had anticipated. It was difficult to focus on anything other than the game itself. Every move felt crucial, and Abby was right in the middle of it all, controlling the pace with every turn.

But it wasn’t just the game that had your attention. It was the way Abby played—how she seemed to be everywhere at once, her energy contagious, urging her teammates forward. She was the center of it all, and you couldn’t help but admire how she took charge, and how her presence seemed to push the team toward victory. She was sharp, a calculated force on the ice.

And then it happened.

Abby made an interception, gliding effortlessly past the defense. At that moment, time seemed to stretch out, the entire arena holding its breath as she lined up for a shot. Her eyes focused, and in one smooth motion, the puck flew off her stick and toward the net. The sound of the puck hitting the post rang out, but Abby wasn’t done. She was already there, crashing the net, securing the rebound, and slamming it in. The crowd erupted.

Your heart raced, the realization dawning on you that her goal had put them ahead—and it was the winning goal.

The game continued, but the tide had turned. With seconds on the clock, the buzzer sounded, and Abby’s team celebrated their victory. You stood in the middle of the crowd, still processing the intensity of it all. Abby had led them to victory, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for her.

You waited near the locker room, hoping to catch Abby after the game. You hadn’t been able to keep up with the excitement of the game completely, but you had seen enough to know this was her moment. The sound of the locker room doors opening echoed in your ears, and you spotted her almost immediately.

Abby stood out from the others, her usual focused demeanor softened by the thrill of the win. She was still in her gear, her face flushed from the game, but there was a lightness about her that hadn’t been there before.

"That was incredible," you said, your words a little breathless from the adrenaline of the game still coursing through you.

She looked at you, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "It was a team effort," she replied, but you could see the pride in her eyes. "Still, I’m glad you were here to see it."

You smiled, taking a step closer. "You’ve earned it," you said quietly, meeting her gaze, trying to find the right words. "I’m proud of you."

Abby’s expression softened, her usual confident exterior cracking just a little. She leaned in slightly as if weighing her words carefully. "Thanks," she said, voice lower than before. There was a moment of silence between you two, the noise of the locker room buzzing faintly in the background.

For a second, it felt like you were the only two people in the room. Abby’s eyes never left yours, a quiet understanding passing between you. There was no need for words, not now. The game, the season, the article—it all seemed to fade as you stood there, caught between the rush of the moment and the realization that this wasn’t just about hockey anymore.

As the team continued their celebration around you, Abby’s hand brushed against yours, a subtle connection that sent a jolt through you. She gave you a small nod before walking toward the rest of her team, leaving you standing there, your heart still racing from the game—and from everything that was unfolding between you and her.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

he newsroom was alive with a flurry of activity, papers scattered everywhere as the final touches were being put on the issue. The clock ticked toward 8 PM, and you were sitting at your desk, feeling a mix of excitement and nervous energy. The article was done. Your piece on Abby, her journey to the championship, and the thrilling game had come together perfectly. The highlight of the issue, the one everyone was talking about. It felt like the culmination of everything—your hard work, your ambition, and the connection you had built with Abby.

As the editors rushed past, congratulating you on how well the article turned out, you couldn't help but smile. A few of them had asked you how you’d managed to make Abby open up, some even teasing you about her sudden warmth toward you. "Did you sweet-talk her?" one of the writers joked. "She’s been ice-cold with everyone else!" You just shrugged, your mind drifting to her last words to you after the game. "Just doing my job."

But as the energy in the newsroom built to a crescendo, Dina appeared in front of you, leaning in with a grin. "I think you just earned the spot as the next editor in chief," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the buzz of the room.

Your heart skipped a beat. You blinked, not sure if you’d heard her right. "Wait, what?" you asked, feeling a flush of disbelief and excitement rise in your chest.

Dina chuckled softly. "You’ve earned it. You’ve got the article everyone’s been talking about, and you’ve proven you’ve got the skills. I’m officially putting your name in for the position." Her eyes twinkled with approval as she walked off, leaving you stunned, your breath caught in your throat. This was it. This was everything you’d worked for.

As the evening wore on, the final issue of the paper was ready to go to print, and it was only a matter of time before it would be released at midnight. You stayed in the newsroom, helping with last-minute preparations, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Abby. What she’d said, what she meant to you now, and how the chemistry between you had grown in such a short time.

In the midst of the excitement, your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your thoughts. The message on your screen made your heart race.

Abby 🏒: Hey, where are you? 

Abby 🏒: I’m still at the party btw

Abby 🏒: I want to see you.

You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips as you typed your response, the warmth from her text a stark contrast to the cool air in the newsroom.

You: I’m at the paper, finishing things up. I’ll be there soon❤️

You felt a little giddy, your heart racing with anticipation. After everything, the article, the win, the promotion—it felt like the perfect moment to see her again, to see where everything between you would go.

As the clock ticked toward midnight, you closed your laptop, the rush of excitement bubbling up inside you. The paper would be published, and your future as editor-in-chief seemed all but certain. But as you left the newsroom, your mind was on Abby—and the night ahead.

As you turned the corner, the soft hum of the campus night air accompanied your steps. The excitement of the newsroom buzzed in your veins, but everything seemed to quiet when you saw her waiting for you.

Abby was leaning casually against the wall, a small smile tugging at her lips as she waited, the blue jersey she wore a bold contrast against the dimly lit hallway. It was the same one her teammates all wore, emblazoned with your university’s logo—proud and unmistakable. But even in something as simple as a jersey, there was still that undeniable pull to her presence.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you walked toward her. "You didn’t have to wait for me," you teased softly, though you were secretly glad she had.

Abby pushed off from the wall, stepping closer. "I wanted to. Besides, I promised I’d see you tonight, didn’t I?" Her voice was playful, but there was something softer in her gaze, something more sincere.

You nodded, the air between you light and easy, but still charged with that undercurrent of something more. "You did," you agreed. "And, uh, I actually have something to show you." You pulled out your phone, tapping through the screens until you found the article you’d written.

Abby raised an eyebrow as she glanced at the screen. "No way," she said, her lips curling up slightly. "You actually made me sound like a good person."

You laughed, but there was a warmth spreading in your chest. "I didn’t just make you sound like a good person, I made you sound amazing." You swiped down, showing her the headline: "Abby Anderson: The Heart of the Winning Team." The words felt just as true as when you’d written them.

She studied the screen for a moment, her fingers brushing lightly against the phone. "I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to get me to open up like this," she said, her voice quiet, almost thoughtful. "But you did. So, thanks."

Your heart raced at her words. The sincerity in her voice made everything feel more real, like something was shifting between you two.

Abby looked at you, her gaze holding yours for a moment longer than usual, before the silence stretched. The sounds of the party down the hall faded in the background, the moment between you two feeling more significant than any celebration.

"You wanna head back to the party?" you asked, breaking the silence, though neither of you moved immediately

She shook her head, her  hand brushed against yours. She paused, her fingers lingering against your wrist, a soft smile on her lips.

"I think," she started, her voice low and steady, "I’d rather be alone with you right now."

Your heart skipped a beat, her words making everything feel just a little more intimate. The noise from the party down the hall seemed to fade away, the energy shifting in an instant.

"You sure?" you asked, your voice a little quieter now, as the anticipation between you two hung thick in the air.

Abby nodded, her eyes meeting yours, full of something unspoken. "Yeah. I’d rather spend some time with you... just us."

She gave your hand a gentle squeeze before she led you away from the noise, down the hallway, and toward her dorm room. The walk felt longer than it was, but it gave you time to let the anticipation build. Abby’s steps were confident, but there was a softness in the way she held your hand, something that made your chest flutter.

When you reached her dorm, Abby opened the door, stepping aside to let you in. The room was cozy, nothing extravagant, you took in the familiar feeling. It felt like a place where she could truly be herself. The familiar blue jersey she wore still clung to her frame, a symbol of her strength on the ice. But now, in the quiet of the room, she seemed different—less guarded, more present.

She tossed herself on her bed and pulled you in with her, planting kisses on you. 

The sudden pull caught you off guard, and you laughed softly as you fell beside her. Abby's arms wrapped around you, her strength both reassuring and gentle. Her kisses were warm, pressing against your skin with an intensity that made everything else fade away. The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of the sheets and the sound of your breathing.

Abby paused, her forehead resting against yours as she caught her breath, eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation. You met her gaze, a smile curving your lips as you traced the line of her jaw with your fingers, feeling the tension melt away under your touch.

“You okay?” she whispered, her voice husky and low, a tender contrast to the fierce athlete everyone else knew.

You nodded, your fingers threading through her hair. “More than okay,” you murmured, pressing your lips to hers again. The kiss deepened, slow and steady, as if both of you were savoring the rare moment of peace away from the chaos of the rink and the noise of the world outside.

Abby shifted, pulling you even closer, her embrace tightening around you as if she wanted to make sure this moment stayed real. The scent of her, the warmth radiating from her body, made your heart race. 

You sit up and move on top of her, her gaze softening as you did. “I think… you deserve a reward for your excellent performance at the game. don’t you think?” 

Abby’s eyes widened slightly at your words, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She let out a breathy laugh, her hands finding their place on your hips as she looked up at you, a mix of amusement and anticipation in her gaze.

“Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow, her voice teasing. “Is that so?”

You leaned down, your lips barely brushing hers as you whispered, “Absolutely.” The playful tone sent a shiver through her, and you felt her fingers tighten their hold, drawing you closer.

Abby’s gaze softened, the fierce determination she carried on the ice replaced by an openness that was reserved for moments like this—moments just between the two of you. The space between you seemed to shrink as she tilted her head to meet your lips again, her kiss more insistent, filled with a new kind of energy that made your pulse quicken.

She sighed against your mouth, the sound sending warmth rushing through you. Her hands traveled up your back, pulling you down until there was barely any distance left. The room, once filled with quiet, seemed to pulse with the shared heartbeat between you.

“Best reward ever,” Abby whispered, a grin breaking through before she kissed you again, deeper this time as if she couldn’t get enough.

Pulling away from the kiss, you start to unbutton your shirt, watching her gaze on you. 

She bit her lip, her eyes never leaving yours as you began to unbutton your shirt. She felt a flutter of anticipation in her stomach, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached up, helping you remove the shirt, her fingers brushing against your skin. "You're so…”

"...beautiful," she finished, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached out, tracing a finger along the edge of your collarbone, feeling the warmth of your skin. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the spot she had just touched, before moving on to kiss the sensitive skin just below your jaw.

She trailed her kisses down your neck, her lips lingering on your pulse point. She could feel your heartbeat fluttering beneath her mouth, quickening with each touch. "I want you," she murmured against your skin, her hands sliding down to rest on your hips.

She chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as she pulled back slightly. "You're right, I got a little carried away," she said with a playful grin. She settled back, watching you with hooded eyes, her hands resting on your thighs.“Ah! Not so fast Abigail. I’m the one who’s giving you this reward remember?”

You help her remove her jersey, and then the shirt she was wearing underneath. You trail down to her pants. As you began to unzip her pants, she lifted her hips, allowing you to slide them down along with her underwear. She lay before you, her body bare and exposed, her chest heaving with anticipation. Her eyes, filled with desire, followed your every movement as you leaned down.

She let out a soft gasp as you kissed her stomach, your lips trailing down to her hips. She wrapped her arms around your head, holding you close as you continued your path of kisses. When you reached her inner thigh, she spread her legs wider, giving you access to her most intimate area.

She moaned softly as you kissed her, the sensation overwhelming. Her hips buckled against your touch, her breathing growing heavier with each passing moment. She tangled her hands in your hair, pulling you closer as the pleasure intensified. "Please...please..." she begged, her voice barely a whisper.

She arched her back, her breath hitching as you continued to tease her with your mouth. Her legs tightened around your shoulders, her whole body tensing as the pressure built inside her. "Don't stop...please, don't stop..." she pleaded, her voice hoarse with desire.

Her eyes flew open, her mouth forming a silent 'O’ as you pushed two fingers inside her. She writhed beneath your touch, her hips bucking against your hand. "Yes...like that...please..." she moaned, her voice growing louder as the pleasure became almost too much to bear.

“Hm? You like it baby?” You hissed. 

“Oh god, yes...” She panted, her body tensing as your fingers curved upwards, finding that sweet spot deep inside her. Her head fell back against the bed, her body trembling. "More...I need more..." She looked at you, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire.”

You smiled, pleased with her reaction, and added a third finger, scissoring them inside her. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as the stretch and pressure became overwhelming. "Fuck...fuck fuck fuck!" She chanted, her voice echoing through the room as she struggled to breathe.

She could feel the heat building inside her, her body growing warmer and more sensitive with each passing second. Her hands grasped at the sheets beneath her, pulling them taut as the tension became unbearable. "I'm...I'm going to...please, please!" She begged, her eyes wide and desperate.

With a final thrust, you pushed your fingers deep inside her, crooking them upwards. She shattered, her body convulsing as waves of intense pleasure washed over her. She screamed your name, her voice hoarse from shouting, her body growing limp as the aftershocks subsided.

As she came down from her high, she pushed feebly at your shoulder, her body still shuddering occasionally. “My turn,” she whispered, her voice still ragged from her release. She pushed you onto your back, straddling you before you could protest.

You landed on your back with a surprised grunt, looking up at her with widened eyes. She grinned mischievously, her eyes filled with lust and determination. She slowly began to kiss her way down your chest, her hands caressing your skin.

She continued her descent, her lips leaving a trail of kisses on your skin. Without warning, she reached out and tore open your already unbuttoned shirt, the fabric ripping easily under her strength. She tossed the shirt aside and moved on to your pants, roughly pulling them down your legs along with your panties

Once she had you fully exposed, she took a moment to admire the view, her eyes hungrily roaming over your body. She licked her lips before leaning down, her hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. "I'm going to make you feel so good,”

She whispered, her voice low and sultry. Before you could respond, she wrapped her hands around your thighs, pushing them apart. She leaned down and slowly, torturously, ran her tongue up your length.

She took her time exploring you with her tongue, licking and sucking at your most sensitive areas. Her hands massaged your thighs, occasionally dipping lower to tease your entrance. She worked you with skill and enthusiasm, determined to drive you wild with pleasure.

Abby sucked on your clit making you toss your head back and grip her hair. You could feel her smile. She stops for a second and slides in her fingers inside you

She curled her fingers inside you, rubbing against your g-spot as she continued to suck on your clit. You cried out in pleasure, your hips bucking against her face desperately. She added another finger, scissoring them inside you as she finger-fucked you relentlessly.

She could feel you tightening around her fingers, knowing you were close. She doubled her efforts, sucking hard on your clit as she pumped her fingers faster. Her other hand reached up to roughly grope your breast, pinching and tugging at your nipple. She wanted to feel you come undone.

The combination of sensations became too much and you came with a loud moan, your body shaking and convulsing. Abby continued to stroke you through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure. She slowly withdrew her fingers and licked them clean, savoring your taste. "Mmm, you taste divine," she purred.

She crawled back up your body, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. She leaned down to claim your lips in a searing kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on her. She ground her hips against yours, her own desire evident in the way she rocked against you. She was far from finished with you… 

She kisses your neck, trailing down until she reaches your breasts, sucking on your nipples. 

She lavished attention on your breasts, suckling and kneading the soft mounds. She bit down gently on one peak, causing you to gasp. She grinned mischievously and continued her torture, moving between the two and back again.

“Mhmm.. Abby… Shit”

She heard your muffled words, your voice hoarse with desire. She knew you were helpless under her touch. She bit down harder on your peak, relishing your cry of pleasure-pain. She moved her hand down to toy with your slick folds, mirroring the action of her mouth with her fingers. 

You bit your lip, staring at her. as if begging her to give it to you. You wanted her fingers inside your walls once again.

Abby looked up at you through her lashes, a smirk playing on her lips. She slowly slid one finger, then two inside you, loving how you bit your lip and watched her with eager eyes. "You like that, baby?”

“Fuck yes…” 

Abby pumped her fingers in and out of you, curling them upward to hit that spot deep inside. Her thumb rubbed circles on your swollen nub. "Look at me while I touch you," she demanded. Your eyes locked onto hers as your hips lifted to meet her touch, silently begging for more.

She added another finger, stretching you. She watched your face as she increased her pace, her fingers slamming in and out of you. Your breaths came in short pants, your moans filling the room. She leaned down to capture one of your moans with her mouth, kissing you deeply.

Your legs shook as she worked you expertly. She could feel you tightening around her fingers. "That's it, baby. Come for me," she encouraged, her voice low. You shattered, convulsing around her fingers as you found your release.

As your climax washed over you, Abby gentled her touch, helping you ride out the waves of pleasure. She slowly withdrew her fingers.

She gathered you in her arms, holding you close as your breathing gradually slowed.

She stroked your back soothingly, placing soft kisses on your shoulder. "You’re gorgeous," she murmured. She reached over to the bedside table and retrieved a warm, damp cloth, cleaning you up tenderly. 

She tossed the cloth aside and pulled you back into her arms. "How are you feeling?" she asked softly. She nuzzled your neck, her voice laced with concern. You snuggled against her, your voice sleepy. "Content," you murmured. "So taken care of…”

She smiled, her heart warming at your words. She tightened her arms around you, her voice gentle. "Good. You deserve to be taken care of." She kissed your shoulder, her touch becoming slower, more loving. "Rest now, baby. I've got you.”

Abby’s gaze softened as she watched you sleep, the subtle rise and fall of your chest lulling her into a sense of calm she rarely found anywhere else. The room was quiet, the only sounds being your soft breaths and the distant hum of the city outside.

She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle in—a mix of contentment and the unfamiliar ache of something deeper. Brushing her thumb across your cheek, she whispered, “You have no idea what you do to me,” her voice so low it was almost swallowed by the quiet.

As exhaustion finally pulled her eyes closed, Abby held you tighter, as if anchoring herself to this moment. The worries of games and expectations could wait; for now, all that mattered was the warmth shared between you and the steady rhythm of your hearts beating as one.

 ⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

[simpforrooster]

nothing but a gentleman.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x F!Reader

summary: jake is obsessed with you. you eat it up. you’re obsessed with his obsession. but also with him.

t/w: soft!jake, some cursing

"Get out of here, Bagman. You're giving me a headache."

The blonde aviator grabs at his chest. "God, I love it when you're mean to me." Those green eyes sparkle with mischief under the lights of the Hard Deck.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin has been pining after you for months.

& you have been loving every second of it. Miramar's resident playboy has only had eyes for you. You haven't seen him spare a glance at any of the other ladies in the bar.

Believe me, they've been looking at him.

"Y/n, how long are you going to keep my boy at arm's length?" Coyote asks from the other side of the pool table. Jake saddles up next to him and feeds you the saddest pout he can muster.

"Yeah, y/n, how long?" Jake asks.

Your intention wasn't to drag this hard-to-get play out for so long. Truthfully, it's becoming hard not to give in to those strong arms. To not lean in when he invades your personal space, feeding you a smart ass comment.

Your shoulder comes up to your ear and falls back down. "Hard to say, Bagman."

"Let's play for it," he tells you. Jake saunters over to you, and leans against the pool table. Crossing his arms over his fit chest, he situates his mouth just outside your ear. "If I win, you've gotta give me a kiss, darlin'."

The way his hot breath falls across your ear causes goosebumps to appear down your arms. Jake notices, and a blonde brow raises.

"What are you? Twelve?" you antagonize.

"Oh, honey. I'm willing to try anything at this point."

"Rack 'em. Honey." You lightly shove him back, your hands reacting to the small second they were on his chest.

"If I win, you give it up," you send the man a sad look.

"Give what up?" he asks.

"All this pining'." Your hand gestures wildly around in the air.

For a moment, despair crosses over that handsome face. He recovers quickly. "Oh, I'm not worried."

Jake lets you break. Two stripes fall into the pocket. Jake comes up behind you before your next shot. His hand slides across your waist and he pulls you into his side.

Right as you pull back, Jake leans down. "Don't scratch."

The cueball follows your striped ball into the pocket.

"Damn," he murmurs. It takes a full 45 seconds to get your heart rate under control.

The jig is up once Jake get in control of the pool table. Not only is he the dagger squad's best dart player, he's got the best pool table on lock, too. There is no way he's going to take it easy on you.

Naturally, he doesn't.

"One more and Hangman gets a kiss," he smirks. He doesn't take his eyes off your as he pulls back and send the cue ball sailing.

The eight ball falls into it's intended pocket effortlessly. Followed right by the cue ball.

Shock falls across all your faces. Jake has never lost a game of pool. Ever.

Jake sets the cue stick down, and rounds the table. Standing toe-to-toe with you, he feeds you a delicious smirk.

"Darlin', I ain't gonna make you kiss me if you don't want to. Furthermore, I only want your kiss if its of your own volition." He tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ear.

Your eyes lock with his and the world stops. What a fucking gentleman.

Fisting the front of his shirt, you yank him down to your mouth. Jake relaxes into the kiss immediately and allows his hands to slide around your waist.

Jake takes control, changing the direction and deepening the kiss. Your hands move from his shirt to the nap of his neck, fingers knotting in his hair. His hair that’s gotten just a bit long.

Jake pulls back just a hair, his lips a breath away from yours. “Damn,” he mumbles, again.

“My own volition, huh?”

“I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” he winks. “A gentleman who is dying to kiss you again.”

You guide his lips back to yours.

“Kiss me, Hangman.”

master list.

a/n: been a little while since i wrote for ole jakey. i hope y'all like it!

[caramelkoo]

be still my heart — jjk [two]

the one in which Jungkook lets his imagination run wild and you confront Jimin about your past.

genre : childhood best friends to enemies to lovers, physical therapist!reader x hockey player!jungkook, slow burn, smut, fluff, angst

word count : 5.1k

chapter warnings : strong language, kissing, jungkook is again nervous around Destiny. That's it i guess lmk if i missed anything.

a/n : ohmygod the first part got so much love i just couldn't wait to post this. This one is a bit intense. I love my babiest baby jungkook so much. Please enjoy my lovely people and remember you're so loved :> feel free to send asks. kisses.

Jungkook

During Jungkook’s college days, there was a guy named Oscar who’d sit beside him in class with his round glasses resting on his face. He would bunk classes almost every day which led the ever so curious Jungkook to follow him one day in order to find out what’s so special that he’s even willing to bunk classes for? Listen, the nerdy Jungkook thought bunking classes is bad manners. Don’t come at him.

Eventually, he found himself watching Oscar playing the guitar inside the vacant auditorium and he can swear he’s heard nothing more melodic than that. He figured the guy escaped so he could do what he loves. It was his passion.

If someone were to ask him, what’s his passion? Jungkook would say, Hockey. It pumps him up, it brings him back to life. He was born to do this.

He has seen his older brother playing hockey for as long as he can remember but trying the sport for himself? That never came to him, until his brother thought handing out a hockey stick to a 15 year old would be funny.

Newsflash, it wasn’t funny and as much as he doesn’t want to, Jungkook has no option than to give him the credit for him being here. It’s only right. The moment he held that hockey stick it was like the clouds parted and angels started singing.

This life right here is something he has built with hours and hours of practice, diet, diligence and working himself out until he’s a sweaty mess.

It’s not like every other 28 year old’s life, it’s different as well as demanding but every other 28 year old is also not being thrown into the penalty box like him right?

On a good day he would even call himself a conflict-avoidant guy until it comes to his teammates. Then, he’s an animal, ready to tear down every motherfucker who dares to touch them. Dramatic? he doesn't think so.

Yes, they piss him off but they’re a team, it’s a unified responsibility that they have. You stop at nothing to protect your own. The spark of defensiveness is bound to come to the surface given he's the defenseman of the team.

This is why he’s in here, trapped behind this glass shield as he watches the guys do their worst performance till date. The forward of the opposite team tried to get a fight started making Jungkook see red. His instincts led him to act immediately. He had to do something to put an end to it and breaking the guy’s nose seemed like a nice option.

The lions are not an easy team to play with, they’re hard hitters and show no mercy. That’s what coach has been telling them ever since they landed here. Seems like nobody listened. Fuckers.

Sweat drips from his hair as he watches the game, ears filling up with screams behind him.

“Jeon Jungkook I’ll have your babies”

“Jungkook you’re so hot it makes me insane”

“Oh god this man will be my death”

“He can slap me and I’ll thank him”

God help him. The thing is, the shitshow before him is not the only reason behind him being a mess today. Destiny has been… weird lately. At the risk of sounding like a goner, she’s not acknowledging him at all, like at all.

She used to grab the seat in front of him on the plane whenever the team flew for the games but this time she didn’t so much as look at the poor guy let alone sitting before him. Is she hurt because of last time? Did he fuck up again? This proclivity of fumbling every time he’s around her needs to be checked.

“Dude, we couldn’t have held a candle to them.” says Taehyung.

Ah yes, the guys lost the game if it wasn’t predictable enough and now the coach will have their heads on a platter ready to serve. Well, he doesn't want to do that any more than Jungkook himself does.

Jungkook gets rid of his shin pads, placing them on the bench. “Try saying that in front of coach”

“He’ll understand”

Yoongi glares at him, “The fuck he will. He’s been in our faces telling us how wild it might be over there. Who listened? Because you sure not did, Tae”

Taehyung chuckles in disbelief, propping his hands on his waist. “Dude, you’re targeting me as if I was the one breaking noses and all.”

He gives Jungkook a side eye. Oh he’s so gonna get Tae later.

“You might as well have. And as for you,” he glances at Jungkook, "I'll just hope you come back in one piece."

“Alright, cut it out” Namjoon says as he slips into his practice jersey. That’s so like him. Heading straight for practice after a big game, whether or not they win.

He’s one of the most dedicated people Jungkook has ever seen and you can’t generally get a praise out of him like this.

He blocks out their bickering and focuses on getting out of his hockey pants. A sharp pain shoots up in his knee making him cringe. That’s strange. He doesn’t remember his knee getting involved in the ruckus. Anyway, he makes a mental note of letting Destiny know about it and not repeat the same douchebaggery.

“Hey bud, you doing okay?” Namjoon asks as he’s rubbing the painful spot.

He looks up, “Yeah it’s… it’s just a slight pain. Might be a cramp for all I know”

He pats Jungkook’s shoulder in support, a kind smile plastered on his face. “I hope so and hey, don’t be picking fights like that anymore. You understand?”

Jungkook is quick to defend himself. “But that asshole–”

“I know,” he nods, “Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying. Let it be your last.”

He gives up, nodding his head. “Yeah. I’ll resist”

Namjoon is right. Jungkook did not pick a fight and he knows it. He also knows that Jungkook is always ready to come at his players’ defense, however that might be.

After all, it all boils down to a nasty fight on the rink which is nothing to be surprised about. There have been plenty of fights down here, some resulting in broken limbs and some going as far as a person on a stretcher.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Nightclubs are hands down Jungkook’s least favorite spot ever. He hates the smell, he hates the crowd and he hates how loud everything gets. If it weren’t for Yoongi, he would be at home chilling or overthinking. No one can tell.

Although, he’s not sure if he can even call that four walled room his ‘home’. It’s not home, it’s just a place he was given to stay at when he joined the federation and while he’s more than grateful for it, an empty, emotionless space where he only exists in can’t be qualified as a home.

However, he can’t stop wanting a place which is only his. A place he can share with someone he loves, wakeup next to her, cook with her, make memories with her. A home overflowing with laughter and giggles only.

Clearly, that murky ass house can never live up to that expectation not when it consists of a bathroom smaller than his fist, a bedroom which can’t fit more than 3 people at once and a kitchen he, for some reason, can’t get himself to cook in. He believes someday he’ll have that albeit the wait.

“Do you think I’m joking?” Taehyung’s voice is louder than ever before because of the surroundings. Sitting beside Namjoon as his hands fist a glass of old fashioned, he acts like he just spilled the most expensive beans.

He dramatically places one hand on his chest and turns to Jungkook, “Dude, tell him. Tell him how I got my dick pierced last week”

A chuckle leaves him, “Better yet, you can lose those pants and give him a live show”

The guys break out in fits of laughter.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen my dick already, you twat. I did it for my girlfriend alright? Was this close to tattooing her name too but didn’t,” he holds up his thumb and forefinger to show how much,

“I don’t want my guy to swell and look like I accidentally got it stuck between a door or something.”

From his peripheral vision, Jungkook spots Destiny walking up to them looking like an absolute goddess. She’s wearing a shoulder strapped bodycon dress tonight with her hair curled in such a way that it makes her face look more feminine. He has seen so much of her in those scrubs that she’s doing things to him now. Hold your damn horses, Jungkook.

The poor guy can’t so much as look at her for too long or he’ll get hard. That’s something he can’t allow himself to do right here when all his friends are gathered. They’re never gonna let him live that down.

Maybe, when he’s alone he can fuck his hand with the thoughts of her taking him into that sweet mouth she’s got a bold red lipstick look going on. His cheeks turn crimson and he fights back a smile.

“Hey, guys” she greets them as she tucks a hair strand behind her ear. A gold hoop adorning her. God, she’s trying to kill him. She's like Jungkook’s own version of heaven.

The guys all smile up at her like she just asked them to give her a foot massage. Meanwhile, her eyes never land on Jungkook.

“Jimin, can I steal you for a second?” she hesitates.

“Sure” Jimin places down his drink and stands up. He walks up to her and rests his hand at the small of her back making Jungkook’s smile drop. Nice, he's getting jealous over a kind gesture now. Next thing you know, he'll be ending anyone who dares to breathe in her direction.

Namjoon shakes his head as he follows them both with his gaze. “Am I the only one who thinks they’re fucking?”

Yoongi dissolves into laughter while Taehyung spits out his drink. Almost. Jungkook? He finds nothing funny about it but refrains himself from saying something stupid in the heat of the moment.

“There’s some tension, yes. Can’t say anything about the fucking part though” says Yoongi.

“What do you think?”

“What?”

“Do you think they’re shagging?” asks Taehyung in a hushed voice.

“I think you assholes need therapy” With that he rests his own glass of drink on the table and walks away. Their voices calling out to him become more and more faint as he goes on.

He needs to find out what is it that gave rise to this sudden change in Destiny and if he’s the reason for it. His stomach churns as soon as the thought of her having something going with Jimin crosses his mind.

The guys were joking back there and given their proclivity of joking around, he takes their statements with a grain of salt. Howbeit, he can’t help but wonder the same.

The worst thing of all is he doesn’t have any right to feel this way. She’s not his and she might never be for all he knows. So maybe this is for the best, maybe if she keeps on discounting him like this, it would be slightly easier to forget her. Right?

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Destiny

“What do you think you’re doing? This is a men's bathroom?” A guy who must be in his early twenties nearly pokes his finger in Jimin’s eyes. His gaze darts over to you as he gives you a disgusted look.

Jimin levels him with an intimidating glare, “Why don’t you mind your own damn business and we’ll be good. Yeah?”

He flashes you another appalling look, his nose flaring before he walks out. For a second you might even endorse with the guy but in your own defense, the club is buzzing with commotion and there was not a single space Jimin and you found where you both could have a proper conversation without anyone bumping into you. You spent quite the money on this dress and it'd be bummer to ruin it. It’s insane how crowded it is. So, here you are.

Jimin turns to you, his fingers still laced through yours for the sake of your safety. “I’m sorry for that”

You snatch your hand back. “No it’s totally fine. I mean it’s not usual for a guy to bring a woman in here” an awkward chuckles leaves you.

“It is”

Your smile drops, “Huh?”

“They do bring women in here. Well, let’s just say they do everything except have a talk”

Of course they do. God, this is more awkward than you imagined it would to be. You could die of embarrassment right now but if you don’t clear things up with him, it would be more humiliating to simply exist around him. You roll your shoulders back, plucking up enough courage.

“Let’s discuss the elephant in the room, shall we?”

He steps closer to you, just enough to catch you off guard but not enough to knock the breath out of your chest. There is someone else who's been doing that job lately.

“What elephant Destiny? The one about us having the best time together or how you left me the next morning? Alone and pathetic” he demands.

Well, knock me down with a feather.

Your mouth parts in shock, “I left you? You sneaked out, Jimin and you know it”

You wonder if he’s gonna come clean about that. If he’s gonna stop blaming you and take accountability for once. You guys did have the best time together and as short lived as it was, you regret nothing about that night until this point.

Now that he stands in front of you, accusing you of being so cowardly that you dared to leave him, it makes you question your own integrity.

He takes another step forward, automatically making you take one back as he searches your face. “So where were you when I woke up? Where were you when I reached my hand out and didn’t find you lying next to me, huh?” his voice barely a whisper.

Enough. You wouldn’t have bothered to stop the scream that’s begging to leave you had someone pointed a gun at your head. A gal can only take so much before she snaps.

“I WAS OUT THERE SEARCHING FOR MORNING AFTER PILLS”

The vacant bathroom echoes with your own words. The words you were holding back from saying out loud.

“I went in search of those, Jimin. Apparently, that’s what you’re supposed to do when you fuck each other and not take necessary precautions”

He stills, backing off as if you had slapped him. A heavy silence hangs in the air around you.

Jimin’s eyes flash with barely contained astonishment as he looks around trying to find words. When he doesn’t say anything, you take it as an opportunity to continue.

“You weren’t lying about us having a great time together. I accept that, we did have fun and I don’t regret it which honestly, I’m not so sure of now.”

A quick look of hurt passes through his face before he recovers.

“I was planning on staying back too oh… how badly I wanted to stay back but you have to understand that I was also at the prime of my career as a professional physical therapist. I couldn’t afford having a child, Jimin. Back then even the thought scared me. So, I left for a while, mentally promising you to come back. You were sleeping so soundly and you looked so beautiful and I didn’t want to disturb you—”

Your words come to an abrupt halt as he takes a long step towards you, backing you up against the white wall behind.

It’s not the same, your chest is not rising and falling rapidly like it did back then. Gosh, you couldn’t even speak in front of him. This time you’re immune to his eyes, his closeness and his warmth. Is this what they call healing?

“You should have” his brown eyes flash with hunger, “You should have disturbed me, Destiny. I would have woken up, ate you out, maybe fucked you again while wearing a condom, cuddled you and then accompanied you to the medical store.”

Oh fuck no, this is not happening. You’re not getting yourself back into this situation where he charms you with his mere words and leaves you cold. You deserve better than that.

You push him back with your palms on his chest, “Maybe, but I think I wouldn't have it any other way,”

You look straight into his eyes and nowhere else to make him feel how serious you are, leaving no room for uncertainty.

“Bella, my assistant, keeps saying that everything happens for a reason. It’s written up there," you point your forefinger up, "I feel the same about what went down with us. There was a reason why you left, there was a reason behind me not bothering to wake you up."

A bitter chuckle slips through your mouth, “Although, I can’t seem to grasp why the hell are you here?”

The way your heart is beating inside your chest, you might end up on a ventilator. It’s because you haven’t had much control of anything in your life, this feels particularly massive. This is one way for you to take back control, because it’s your choice and yours alone.

You try not to let the tears spill, “I asked you to spare me a few minutes just so I could talk to you about it but this isn’t how I imagined this conversation to go, Jimin. Regardless of that, I need you to do me a favor”

He holds your gaze. “What favor?”

You clear your burning throat, “I’m requesting you to please not initiate any conversation about our past with any of the guys. That could pretty much cost me my job and yours.”

He offers you a stern nod, “You have my word”

With that you turn and walk around just like you always do and always should when it’s time. Only this time, you don’t feel victorious. Instead, the feeling of utter shock rushes through your body because standing outside is the only person you had been avoiding to say the least.

You flinch. “Jungkook?”

He’s leaning back against the cold wall with his hands inside his front pockets, head hanging low. You can’t make his face out because of the darkness.

He frantically lifts up his head when he hears you calling, looking as surprised as you, “Hey, I— wait, why are you coming out of the men’s room?”

You shift on your feet, folding your hands in front of you. “What? OH !! Well, I had some business with Jimin and this felt like a nice place to.. you know”

You can’t talk for the life of you. How do you explain yourself to him without word vomiting? But then you think better of it and just shake your head.

“You know what? Never mind that. What about you? Why are you standing here like someone just broke your heart?”

No fucking way did you just say that. What is this? A bollywood movie? You immediately feel like you hit a nerve when his face falls, causing you to curse yourself.

He’s silent for a moment before he stands up straight. “You could say that”

“Wait, really?”

Yet again you’re struggling to breathe, a spark of curiosity threatening to rise up. Why do you care about his heart? He’s been all but rude to you every day since you’ve begun working by his side so why would you care if someone put his bloody heart in a blender? You have been assigned to take care of his body, what happens unrelated to that is none of your business.

Except, you do. There is a teeny tiny part of you that cares. Though, you can’t say if it’s the doctor inside of you or something else. Something which could ruin you and save you all at once.

“Who is it?” you ask in a small voice.

His eyes rank behind you and he pulls you close to him by grabbing your arm. You see a man passing by, faltering on his own under the influence of probably the sheer amount of alcohol inside him.

When you look up, you have to swallow a gasp. Jungkook’s face is so close to you, you can almost count his moles. The one under his lips is begging to be kissed and you hold yourself back from grabbing him by his jacket as you kiss the hell out of him.

Wait what?!

He looks down at you, his eyes burning with something you can’t pinpoint. It’s like a mixture of anger and adoration. Soft lips brush your temples as your heart beats out of your chest.

“It’s not safe here. Why don’t you go join Bella? If I break another nose it’ll cost me good”

You lean back, still in his arms. It would be nice if you get out of his hold. You should shove him away too exactly like you did with Jimin but for some reason, you can’t. His hold is safe, cozy. It reminds you of your grandmas cookie recipe. Warm and lovely.

“Another nose? Did you get into a fight?”

He breaks away, turning his back to you but you clutch his forearm as you hold him back before he can bolt.

“You know the PR is gonna make your life a living hell. What did you do?”

His jaw sets instinctively as he looks at you for a moment before speaking.

“Destiny, if you don’t want me kissing that sweet mouth of yours and imprint my name on it for once and for all, get the fuck out of here.” he rasps.

That's it. Flashbacks of that night and that fucking dream consume you. It doesn't help at all that he looks so dashing tonight in all black. Black leather jacket, black pants and his black boots. You're having visions you shouldn't have. They're nice. Farfetched but nice, nonetheless.

You release his hand like it will set you have you combust if you keep holding onto it for even a moment longer. You turn around, with the intent of getting out of his proximity when his voice stops you.

“Destiny”

You don’t turn around because something is telling you if you do, you will never be the same.

“My life turned into a living hell the moment you stopped looking at me”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook

Jungkook is dying. 

Figuratively, of course.

He should have taken Destiny seriously when she said that the PR is going to make his life miserable once he gets to know about the mess he had made. His phone is buzzing on the kitchen counter. He knows who it is but he doesn’t pick up.

Instead, he just waits until it stops ringing. Jungkook can see it all playing out in his head. He will be called to the PR’s office as soon as he enters the academy and the PR is gonna ask him why he did what he did, Jungkook will then tell him that he's a a man of virtue, he will ask him to repent and tell him to fuck off. Very classic. Been there, done that. 

He drops his head low, palms splayed in front of him. Calling last night chaotic would be an understatement. He said things he shouldn’t have and heard things he hoped he wouldn’t. It was not deliberate, of course. He would like to call it a spur of the moment.

Alright, he was fucking jealous. There he said it. He was jealous of Park Jimin because that man was touching who Jungkook had been longing for, he was talking to the women Jungkook had been begging to look at him once and allow him to breathe. 

When he reaches the academy, he quickly asks about Destiny’s whereabouts and goes on to find her. He thinks his knee needs to be discussed because he can’t risk not playing the next game.

He's not sure if he's prepared for the uneasiness that's about to welcome itself but– god if you’re listening, help him, he prepares himself as much as he possibly can. 

Raising his hand to make a fist, he knocks on her office door. This would be his first time inside, if she would even let him in.

“Come in” her voice reaches Jungkook. 

He takes a long deep breath and pushes the door wide open. Stepping inside he looks at her sitting in her chair with glasses resting on top of her button nose. She looks so adorable. He doesn’t think he has ever seen her with glasses on but he approves. 

“Jungkook? Is everything okay?” 

Is it? Why is she acting like everything about last night was a dream? Did I imagine it all? Jungkook wonders.

He slips his hands inside his front pockets and nods, “My knee is acting a bit weird. I wanted to get it checked. See if there’s anything serious.” 

She takes her glasses off and rises to her feet. Pointing to one of the chairs, she says, “Sit down and let me have a look”

He does what she asked as he leans back to make himself comfortable. An eerie silence surrounds them, making every inch of Jungkook's body stiff as he grips the armrests of the chair a bit tighter. He doesn’t let it appear that way of course. He’d rather die. 

When she’s satisfied, she gets down on her knees and looks up at him. The visual is lethal but not something which he hasn’t already imagined.

He's not entirely proud to say that he has had the privilege of seeing her on her knees in his dreams, in the darkness of his bathroom, in his fantasies. He's seen it all but the real sight nearly makes him blow his load.

What do you think happens to a man who witnesses a queen getting down on her knees for him? Ask Jungkook. Mentally thanking himself for not wearing the sweatpants, he prepares to answer any of her questions.

“Do you wanna tell me what caused this?” 

“There um, there was a fight back at the game. I felt a slight pain in the changing room but didn’t think much of it. Thought I’d let you know about it.” 

She smiles, “Well I’m proud of you for that minus the fighting part. I’m sure you’ll be discussing that in the PR’s office” 

As she’s examining any possible pulls or cracks, he thinks about apologizing to her about last night. To be very honest, he's tired of this awkward silence every time he's around her. Not talking is one thing, walking on eggshells around each other is another. He wants her to behave the same way she does with the rest of the boys. 

“Destiny, I needed to talk to you about something” 

She looks up again, her eyes filled with curiosity. 

“Sure. Was something else hurt during the fight?” 

“What? No. I wanted to talk about last night” 

She stiffens as her mouth forms an ‘O’ shape. Fuck, why is his heart beating so fast? Wait, is he sweating? 

Then she shrugs, talking in a casual tone. “I don’t think it’s worth talking about” 

“Why?” Jungkook can’t help but ask.

“Well,” she smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes, “You and I both were drunk and people do stupid stuff when they’re drunk so.”

“There was not a single drop of alcohol in my system. However, whatever I said was in the spur of the moment.” he says wording his previous thoughts, “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I’m sorry” 

She’s quiet for a moment before she lowers her head and mumbles something. 

“WellIhadasexdreamaboutyousoweareeveniguess”

He lowers down his own head, trying to listen clearly, ‘What was that?”

“I said I had a sex dream about you so we’re even” as soon as the words slip out of her, she claps a hand over her mouth. Her eyes wide as saucers. Meanwhile, he just sits there wondering if he heard her right or his brain is as fucked as his knee. 

His mouth goes dry as he keeps looking at her. He feels like someone just dumped a bucket full of ice water on his head. She had a sex dream about him? When? How was it? 

“It was uh okay” 

Kill him, kill him now because he said that out loud. See, this is what he means when he says he messes up every time he's in front of her. That’s exactly what the last thought that crosses his head before he pulls her by the back of her neck and smashes his lips on hers. Fuck it, he can’t take it anymore.

When she kisses him with the same amount of passion and hunger, he resists himself from hoisting her up on the table and eating her sweet cunt. She matches every movement of his lips. Hers suck his before his take her pink and pillowy ones. 

Within seconds, he has her caged in his arms. A low moan slips past her lips as she clutches onto Jungkook's shoulders for support, his fingers digging into the sides of her waist. Is this what feels like to kiss Kim Destiny? Is he actually touching and tasting her?

She tastes like cherries and bubblegum and he swears he's tasted nothing sweeter. He wants to have this taste every day on his tongue, and wants to remember it till the day he takes his last breath. Maybe, even longer than that. 

He pulls back and cups her cheek, running his thumb along her lower lip as she catches her breath. She’s got her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling against his. Jungkook can feel her hard nipples through her scrubs.

Someone shakes him by the shoulders and he snaps out, blinking rapidly. He looks around and finds himself sitting on the very chair Destiny asked him to but when a feminine voice calls out his name, it's not hers.

“Well, watching my best friend on her knees in front of my step brother was not the visual I thought I needed”

Turns out, it takes a lot to make that someone up there 'happy' because standing in front of him is his only step sister. It's hilarious how unpredictable life happens to be. After all, not only did he imagine kissing Destiny after she told him about her little sex dream but will now have to figure out how to face his sister without wanting to hurl himself out the window.

Can he catch a break?

Taglist - @keylime4eva @xumyboo @jash719 @dmstoyangyang @pitchblack0309 @withluvjm @chaelvrx @httpjeonlicious @lovingkoalaface @rpwprpwprpwprw (ilusm and thank you for reading <3)

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ get you home ] m. rempe

pairing : Matt Rempe x fem!reader

summary : Matt makes sure his best friend gets home safe after going out with him and a few of the Rangers after a win, but his plans change when she tells him how she feels about him

warning(s) : alcohol use and drunkenness, a heavy makeout, some suggestive comments

author’s note : got drunk so i started to write a fic and finished it while sober lol :))

༺═──────────────═༻

One of the things she loves about going out with Matt is the fact that he deters every guy from approaching her. Everyone views him as this scary guy because he’s a six-foot-seven hockey player but in reality, he’s probably the sweetest guy she’s ever met.

It works to her advantage though since she only ever wants to talk to him when she goes out with him.

Tonight in particular, she wants to stay glued to his side. He scored a goal in his playoff debut and all she wants to do is celebrate. She doesn’t want her attention to be pulled away from Matt.

The Rangers found a booth in a dark corner of the club they came to after game one against Washington and started buying drinks and shots for Matt after his goal that started this season’s playoff run.

She took so many shots with Matt when they first got to the club and kind of regrets it. She wanted to at least be coherent and remember her words when she tells Matt that she’s in love with him.

Tonight might not be the night to tell him though. She doesn't want him to think she's telling him because she's drunk or because he scored a goal.

Plus, she wants to be able to remember telling him and she isn't sure that's possible right now because of the amount of drinks and shots she's had. Tonight shouldn't be the night she tells her best friend that she's in love with him.

Once Trouba decides to leave, a bunch of the Rangers decide to follow him out the door. Once the captain leaves, that usually means whatever is going on is officially over. A lot of the older guys leave, but most of the younger guys like Matt and Braden stay for a little bit longer.

There are about three more rounds of shots before everyone else calls it a night. She stumbles out of the club holding onto Matt's arm so she doesn't fall on the sidewalk in her heels. She leans against his chest while he orders them an Uber to her apartment.

"Mm," she hums. "Comfy wall."

Matt laughs and wraps an arm around her shoulders to keep her stable. "You're so drunk," he comments. "How much have you had to drink?"

"A little less than you," she replies. "I think. How are you not stumbling after everything you've had today?"

He tucks his phone into the pocket of the pants he's wearing. "I'm a foot taller than you and over a hundred pounds heavier than you," he laughs. "Not to mention I have a faster metabolism and can handle my liquor. It's not my fault you're so short."

She looks up at him. "Hey, five-foot-six is not short," she retorts. "You're just freaking tall ." Matt laughs. "Out here having fucking trees for legs like God damn, Matt."

A car pulls up in front of them and Matt helps her get in the car. "Me and my tree legs are trying to get you home safely," he tells her. "You better be nice to me or I'm gonna leave you to get to your apartment by yourself."

"You'd never do that to me," she giggles. "You like me too much."

Matt slides into the car next to her and she immediately moves as close as she can to him. She rests her head on his shoulder before she shuts her eyes. Being drunk and being in a car is not the best combination. She'll gladly use Matt's shoulder as a pillow until they get to her apartment building. They're a good fifteen minutes away so she has time.

The Uber driver realizes who got into the backseat of his car so he and Matt talk about the game. The driver mentions Matt's goal and says what an amazing goal it was. She doesn't say anything but she agrees a thousand percent.

His goal was a beauty. It's something that he'll never forget for sure. She'll never forget celebrating it when it happened. Hearing his name announced during the next play will be something she'll remember hearing forever.

She listens to the conversation and smiles while they talk about the game. She doesn't chime in because she's afraid to open her eyes. The last thing she wants to do is throw up in an Uber.

About fifteen minutes later, the Uber pulls up to her apartment. The driver wishes Matt luck during the rest of the playoffs as he helps her out of the car. She thanks him as Matt shuts the door. Matt wraps an arm around her and helps her into the building.

As she walks through the lobby, she stumbles and loses her balance. With a groan, she slides out of Matt's grip and lands on the floor to pull off he heeled boots that she's wearing. "Stupid shoes," she says to herself. Matt laughs and holds a hand out to help her up when she is ready to stand back up.

"Why did you even wear heels to the game?" he asks as he pulls her up from the ground. "I mean, it's a hockey game."

"I wanted to look nice and dress up the jersey," she replies. Matt lent her his Stadium Series jersey. She might have to wear it for every game now since he scored a goal while she was wearing it. "Sorry I wanted to look nice. Good thing too since we went out afterwards."

It's easier for her to walk now that her feet are flat on the ground. She carries the shoes onto the elevator, where she leans against the wall for support.

"Are you still super drunk?" Matt asks. "I'm asking because I need to know if you'll be okay if I leave."

"We'll see," she mumbles as she drops her head to her left to look at him. "Can you stay anyway? Just in case?"

He nods and smiles as the elevator dings and the doors open.

She stumbles down the hallway to her apartment, dropping one of the shoes in the process. Matt picks it up and she uses her key to unlock the door. Somehow, she gets the door open, but she stumbles inside. Matt quickly wraps an arm around her waist before she can go crashing down to the floor.

The door closes behind them and she looks up at him. "Thanks," she says.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna stay," he comments. "You just fell into your apartment." She giggles and stands back up. Matt wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Come on. Do you want to shower or anything before you go to bed? Want a snack? You're going to drink at least one glass of water before going to bed."

She looks up at him and says, "I should probably shower since I got a drink spilled on my pants." That was Cuylle's fault and she wasn't very happy that she smelled like beer for the rest of the time they were at the club.

"I'll get him to apologize for that tomorrow when he's sober," Matt tells her. "For now though, bath or shower? Think you can shower?"

"I think I can shower," she replies. "A cold one might sober me up a bit. Some of the clothes that you've left here are all in a drawer if you want to pull something together, or I can give you this jersey since it's technically yours."

Matt smiles and shakes his head. "That jersey is yours now," he says. "I'll find something. Go shower the beer smell away."

She sticks her tongue out at him and stumbles her way to her room. She pulls out a large t-shirt and a pair of slightly too small Lululemon shorts to sleep in before walking into the bathroom for her shower.

The water is ice cold in hopes that it sobers her up enough for the conversation that's going to happen after her shower. She wants to make sure she remembers the entire conversation and whatever she says to Matt. She wants to remember his reaction and what he tells her when she tells him about her feelings.

It's going to go really well or really bad. She has no idea how it's going to go. He may just tell her that it's bad timing since the playoffs just started, or he'll fully embrace it. Maybe he'll tell her that he feels the same.

The unknown is what scares her.

After a short and sweet shower where she only washes her hair and body, she hops out and dries off. She shivers from how cold it was and dresses quickly.

When she walks out of the bathroom with her wet hair French braided down her back, she finds Matt laying on his back on her bed on his phone. He's typing away, probably replying to people that he didn't get to yet about his goal or the win. He's wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of his Rangers hockey shirts that he found in the drawer.

Matt notices her standing in the doorway between the bedroom and her bathroom. "There's a glass of water on your table," he tells her. "I left some Advil for you too for the morning."

Just rip off the bandaid. It's time to get this over with.

"I have something I want to say first in case it chases you off," she tells him. "I don't know what your reaction is going to be when I say this but ... I love you."

"I love you too."

"No, Matt," she sighs. "I'm in love with you. I have been for months, maybe close to a year at this point. I know my timing isn't the best but I couldn't not tell you anymore. I'm not saying this because you scored a goal or because you won a playoff game or because I'm still slightly drunk but I am genuinely in love with you."

He stares at her while she talks, but as soon as she's done saying what she has to say, Matt gets up out of bed and walks up to her. "I knew what you meant," he comments. "I've been waiting for you to say something to me before I did this."

"Do wha-"

Before she can finish her question, Matt gently cups her jaw and leans down to press a light kiss to her lips. It's so light that she feels like he's just testing the waters.

It barely feels like a kiss when he pulls back.

She takes a step closer to him and looks up at him. "Can you please kiss me like you mean it?" she questions.

"Gladly."

He crashes their lips together in a more definitive kiss that makes her heart beat out of her chest. She presses herself against him and fists his t-shirt in her hand to hold him close to her. Matt's thumbs trace her cheekbones and she sighs. He takes full advantage and licks past her parted lips.

She presses her hands against his torso and pushes him toward the bed. She has to tilt her head up to kiss him and it's starting to hurt her neck. So she pushes him down until he falls back and is sitting on the mattress. She crawls onto his lap so they're at a more even level.

This isn't the reaction that she was expecting. Maybe Matt saying that he loves her too or some cuddles. She thought that kisses would wait until morning when they're both completely sober.

That being said, this is what she thought their first kiss would look like. Rough, needy. She kisses him like she craves him, and he kisses her back like he's been holding back. She's seen Matt kiss former girlfriends before and studied the way his lips move, but experiencing it is something completely different.

Her heart is in her stomach and her body shakes with anticipation. She truly cannot believe that this is happening right now.

She slides her hands down his chest and stomach then slithers her fingers up under his shirt. Matt hums and pulls back from the needy kiss. “Clothes are staying on until we’re both sober,” he tells her. She nods but is very distracted by how red and swollen his lips are.

All because of her.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t touch,” she replies. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

Matt sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and looks her up and down in his lap. She reaches up with one of her hands and touches one of the scars on his cheek. He turns his head and presses a kiss to her wrist.

He trails kisses up her forearm and she smiles as he pulls her flush against his chest. She wraps her arms around his neck and Matt flips them so he’s pinning her down against the mattress.

She smiles and looks up at him. “You do know that I love you too, right?” Matt asks. “I mean, I knew what you meant when you told me that you love me. The timing couldn’t have been any better because I thought I was going to genuinely lose my mind if I held back from you any longer.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Matt replies. “I love you. I think I’ve loved you for literally ever. I probably realized it in February when you were in the crowd for my NHL debut. Seeing you in that jersey tonight, oh my God. I thought I was going to actually lose it at the club.”

She smiles and grabs the bottom of his shirt. She fists the fabric and holds him close. “You could’ve made a move whenever you wanted and I probably would’ve been okay with it,” she admits. “I hated seeing you with random girls or old girlfriends. They never wanted you like I do.”

“I know,” he says. “I think I see that now. I’ve had a few girlfriends, but none of them have stuck around like you have.”

“By your side always,” she promises.

Matt leans down and kisses her again. The kiss almost feels like her sealing the promise.

Because she’ll never leave his side. Ever.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 04

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 5k Warnings: 18+, smut. This is a very smutty chapter. Lots of locker room sex with our favorite hockey player. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 10 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

You have no idea how you became such a hockey fan. You try to tell yourself that you are just here because ice hockey is a fascinating sport. And the Tigers are your college's pride, so attending the games and cheering for the team is almost obligatory.

And cheer you do. Maybe a little too enthusiastic, anytime Sukuna scores a goal, or when he slams an opponent brutally into the boards, or when he skates as fast as lightning over the rink with that mad grin on his face.

There's a little voice in your head that whispers to you that maybe you aren't so much a hockey girl but rather a Sukuna girl. But this is a thought you try to push into the furthest back of your mind.

And after all, in your defense, Sukuna is the star player of the Tigers, and the whole arena cheers for him!

After the game, Sukuna skates past you and lifts a hand in greeting, smirking at you through the plexiglass and yelling over the loud noises of the arena,

"Good job today, my lucky charm!"

And you laugh and smile broadly at Sukuna, yelling back at him that he played really well. He flashes you a smile, and his cat-like eyes trail slowly over you with a smug expression.

You give him a little wave when Yuuji and Todo skate up to him and take him in the middle to do another round across the rink for the cheering fans in the stands. And your treacherous eyes follow Sukuna the whole time he is on the ice until he finally skates over to the player's bench to collect his stuff.

That's when you remember that you still have Sukuna's hoodie. The hoodie which feels so soft and warm and, which, to your utter embarrassment, you didn't take off for several days. But it's time to return it, or things will look strange. So you washed it and brought it along to the game. Even though you have this irrational fear that Sukuna can somehow read your mind and will know exactly what you did with his hoodie. You don't ever want him to find out. Even though you would love to know if Sukuna finds the thought of you wearing his clothes just as exciting as you do.

You follow Nobara into the lobby but touch her forearm lightly to make her turn around and look at you. You hold up the hoodie, informing her,

"I have to give that back to Sukuna. Can we wait for the players to come out?"

Nobara gives you an amused look, far too knowing for your taste. She huffs and crosses her arms in front of her chest,

"I won't waste my precious time waiting for some hockey boys."

She says the words hockey boys as if it is an insult. You sigh and are about to complain when she grins at you and adds,

"I have to hurry up, so I can take a shower before Maki comes over. But you can stay here and wait for your loverboy to come out!"

"Sukuna isn't my loverboy!"

"We'll see about that. Anyways. Have fun! I have to go!"

She waves at you and leaves you standing there while your heart is beating too fast and your face feels too hot at the implication that Sukuna and you could be lovers.

You sigh, looking around the lobby, trying to decide the best place to wait for Sukuna. You settle on making a left turn to walk down the corridor that leads toward the locker rooms. At least you can be sure you won't miss Sukuna this way.

The door to the men's locker room comes into view, and you slow down.

Suddenly, unbidden images of a shirtless Sukuna flood your mind. Sukuna changing, Sukuna half-naked, all buff muscles and tattooed skin. Sukuna in the shower. You feel a bit dizzy all of a sudden, and you shake your head as if it can help you get rid of those images.

Maybe it was a stupid idea to come here. Your mind keeps betraying you those last few days. Dirty thoughts about Sukuna haunt you night and day. Why does he have to be so sexy?

You lean against the wall, clutching Sukuna's hoodie to your chest as you wait. The minutes tick by, and you feel your nervousness grow. You are almost ready to bolt when you hear loud voices coming from the direction of the locker room, but before you can do so, the door gets pushed open, and you decide it would look weird if you run now, so you force yourself to stay, trying to look nonchalant as you turn your head to check if Sukuna is among the guys coming out of the locker room.

You spot pink hair and your heart jumps to your throat, but you realize a second later that it's Yuuji. The guys walk past you, casting curious glances at you, and you nod at them in greeting, smiling sheepishly as you mumble, "Good game."

The others walk past you, but Yuuji stops in front of you with a big smile on his face, greeting you as if the two of you are old friends.

It's kind of strange to look at Yuuji, seeing all the things that look exactly like Sukuna, the same tall and muscular build, the matching pink hair dye, the same face shape, the same way of cocking their heads. And at the same time, the twins look so different.

Sure, the face tattoos contribute a lot to the difference in appearance. But it's not just that. Sukuna and Yuuji give off completely opposite vibes. Their whole facial expression is different. While Yuuji smiles a bright sunshine smile that lights up every room, Sukuna walks around with that smug smirk on his face, always making you feel as if he is mocking everyone around him and thinking they are annoying little insects and nothing more.

While Yuuj's eyes have an almost golden glow and seem warm like honey, Sukuna's are that rich, deep maroon that seems so mysterious and almost devilish sometimes. His eyes always seem to be narrowed as if he is watching you closely, reading you like a book while he keeps his own soul carefully hidden, while Yuuji's eyes are big and open, and you feel like you can read every emotion he feels openly in his eyes.

Right now, those warm, brown eyes beam at you with a happy sparkle in them,

"You're waiting for my brother, right? You can go in! Sukuna is still in there."

Yuuji smiles his sunshine smile and jerks his head towards the door of the locker room. And you almost choke on your spit as you are quick to shake your head and splutter,

"Um... uh, thanks, but no. I will just wait here. I can't just go into the men's locker room."

Yuuji laughs, his eyes sparkling amusedly at you, and he shakes his head,

"No, it's okay! Trust me! Everyone else already left. It's only Sukuna in there. And he told me to send you to him."

What??

You stare at Yuuji with wide eyes.

"How did he know I would be here?"

Yuuji shrugs and scratches the back of his head a bit sheepishly,

"Kuna just knows things, I guess."

You blink at him but choose not to inquire any further. But your mind registers the nickname Yuuji uses for his brother. Kuna. It makes your stomach do a little flip for whatever reason.

You thank Yuuji and slowly make your way toward the locker room door, feeling as if you are in a daze.

You try to tell yourself you are only doing this because Yuuji is so nice, and you don't want to seem ungrateful, but deep down, you know that a part of you has longed to walk through that door ever since you came here. That part of you that keeps having dirty fantasies about Sukuna and is drooling over the thought of him coming out of the shower, wet and sexy and... You exhale sharply, forbidding yourself to think any further.

You stop in front of the door and cast one last glance over your shoulder at Yuuji, who nods encouragingly at you, and then you grab the door handle and push the heavy door open.

Steam greets you. Warm, humid air and a mix of sweat and various scented shower gels.

You gulp, feeling your heartbeat in your throat as the door closes behind you with a soft thud. You carefully take a few steps toward the lockers. The room looks pretty neat, probably because the team has already left. There is only one sports bag standing on the long bench, only one pair of grey sweatpants lying around, and a familiar pair of black and red Nikes waiting for their owner.

But there is no sight of him. Where is Sukuna? For a moment, you think you have fallen victim to some dumb prank, but then you hear it. The sound of running water.

Is he serious? He is still in the shower but tells me to come in here?

You feel so nervous all of a sudden, your head spinning with the thought of a very naked and very sexy Sukuna under the shower only a few meters away from you. It makes you turn on your heel, about to flee the locker room. But you get stopped by a familiar velvety voice that sounds far too smug,

"Already leaving, princess?"

You involuntarily jump, stopping in your tracks with your hand hovering just a few centimeters away from the door handle.

You gulp and slowly turn around again, pulse fluttering nervously as your gaze lands on Sukuna. He walks out of the locker room showers with only a white towel slung dangerously low around his narrow hips. His hair is still wet, looking dark pink instead of the usual light pink pastel tone. The wet strands hang into Sukuna's face, dripping water onto his broad, muscular chest, making small rivulets run down his firm pecs and abs.

He looks even better than in your fantasy. Tall and broad, with all those gorgeous muscles and sexy tattoos unashamedly on display. You can't stop yourself from letting your gaze follow some water droplets down his perfect body, over his buff pecs and taut abs and those two black lines that he has tatted onto his abdomen that disappear so tantalizingly in the low sitting towel, right next to his defined v-line.

You feel weak in the knees, your face burning, your heart hammering much too fast in your chest as you force yourself to tear your eyes away from Sukuna's naked chest and abs and instead lift your head to look into his amused maroon eyes.

"I... I have your hoodie."

You lift your hand that's holding the soft white sweater, and Sukuna's lips lift in that sexy smirk.

"Then why don't you bring it over to me?"

You don't even stop to think but automatically walk towards him as if he is pulling you toward him by some invisible string. As if you are caught in his web, but you don't even want to escape but want him to catch you and devour you.

You stop in front of him, your chest heaving heavily with your nervous breaths.

Sukuna is so tall, especially when you stand so close to him. You have to tilt your head back to look at his tattooed face, and it only adds to the excited tingle you feel buzzing in your veins. He is gorgeous. Tall and broad and sexy. And he knows it.

He smirks at you, a knowing glint in his beautiful maroon eyes as he takes the hoodie from you, his large, warm hand brushing over yours, cupping your hand a little too long.

And then he does something that makes you spin completely out of control.

He leans down to whisper in your ear, in that sexy bedroom voice,

"Good girl."

And his lips brush over your earlobe and then over your burning cheek. He is standing so close to you that you can feel his body heat emanating from him and smell his shower gel, sexy, fresh, and masculine.

When he pulls away, you are left staring at him with a dazed look and a wet patch in your panties.

Sukuna strolls casually over to his locker, slowly sitting down on the bench in front of it, and his maroon eyes never leave yours.

You feel trapped, unsure of what to do. You did what you came here for. You returned his hoodie. There is no reason for you to stay longer here in this locker room where you clearly shouldn't be, especially not when a fresh-out-of-the-shower hockey player is sitting here, about to get changed.

But there is another voice in your mind telling you that you are right where you should be. It's that voice that makes you take a tentative step toward Sukuna.

He is rubbing his hair with a second towel, ruffling the pink strands in the process, and you can't help but bite your lip at how attractive Sukuna looks. His thick tattooed biceps are flexed, his abs taut.

And then he spreads his thighs, making the towel split in the middle, revealing his muscular thighs, and you finally get a good look at the pair of tattooed bands high up on those gorgeous thighs, so sexy that it takes all in you, not to moan out loud. You want to curse yourself for the thoughts that run through your mind. The fantasy of being on your knees between those muscular thighs, licking and kissing those sexy tattoos, your mouth slowly trailing up higher.

You tear your gaze away, looking at Sukuna's face, not even trying to hide how affected you are by his half-naked body and the thick, steamy air in here that only adds to the atmosphere that's dripping with sexual tension.

Burning maroon eyes meet yours,

"Come here, princess."

Sukuna pats his thigh, leaving no doubt about what he means by "here."

You walk over to him without any hesitation this time, dropping your bag on the floor as you slip onto Sukuna's lap, straddling those muscular thighs as if this is the place you belong.

You are barely sitting on him when Sukuna's lips are already on yours, claiming them in a heated kiss that makes you gasp into his warm mouth. His large, strong hands are on your body, slipping around your waist and under your sweater, holding you, caressing your skin, and making your head spin. And Sukuna's tongue pushes hungrily into your mouth, flicking against your tongue in sexy caresses that make your pussy twitch.

Your hands tangle in his still-damp pink hair, tugging on it while you open your mouth eagerly and lick against Sukuna's skilled tongue, kissing him just as hungrily as he is kissing you, as if you want to devour each other.

Sukuna's large hands wander from your waist to your ass, kneading it firmly through your leggings, making you moan into the kiss and buck against him, gasping them you feel his hard cock press against you and hear his soft growl.

Your hands are wandering too, groping Sukuna's broad shoulders, caressing his buff pecs, digging your fingernails into his buff muscles, scratching them slightly, smiling when you hear Sukuna make a sexy little noise in the back of his throat, like a low purr.

You are grinding against each other desperatedlyy, your harsh breaths filling the locker room, making things even more humid and steamy. You don't even care that someone could walk in again. All you know right now are Sukuna's lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, and the feeling of his muscles under your fingers while his calloused hands are wandering over your body.

Sukuna is bold, letting one hand slip between your legs and rubbing you through your leggings and panties. You push eagerly against his hand, seeking more friction, not caring about how horny and needy you must seem, like a cat in heat.

Your panties and leggings are soaked through as Sukuna rubs his thumb over your clit, making you whine into his mouth. Maybe you should be embarrsed by how wet you are for him, but you don't care. Your hands are on his abs, exploring his body, feeling dizzy when you feel his firm muscles flex under your hands. You are hungry, hungry for more, hungry for him.

Your fingers wander lower, making Sukuna groan into your mouth when you trace the tattoos on his abs down to where they disappear in the towel. You open the towel impatiently pushing it to the side, exposing all of Sukuna's naked body to your greedy touch.

Your hips jerk when you feel the velvety heat of Sukuna's thick cockhead brush against your hand. It drives you crazy with the need to touch him.

Sukuna hums against your lips when your small hand wraps around his thick long cock and slowly strokes up and down his whole hard length. He feels so good in your hand, hot and velvety, rock-hard muscle and smooth skin. Your mind is hazy, driven by pure need and desire. Driven by one thought alone: You want him inside you.

Sukuna seems to have the same train of thought because he is tearing at your leggings, breaking your passionate kiss to trail his lips over your neck and practically growl,

"Get those damn trousers off."

You help him with them, hastily pushing them down, followed by your completely soaked panties, only slipping out of one leg in your haste to get that gorgeous cock inside you.

Sukuna pulls you back onto his lap, just as impatient as you, making you sit on him again, your thighs spread widely, your naked dripping pussy rubbing against his hot cock. Sukuna bucks his hips slowly, watching you with those sexy maroon eyes as he teases your swollen clit with his thick cockhead, making you shiver and mewl loudly as you dig your nails into his broad neck and look down to see the hot and nasty sight of Sukuna's mushroom head caressing your clit, coating himself in your juices.

"Do you want it like that, princess? Or do you want more?"

"More! Oh fuck, Sukuna, I want more, please!"

Sukuna lets out a sound that will be on your mind forever, a mix of a laugh and a moan, so sexy and low that it makes your pussy clench around nothing.

"Then come and get it."

He looks at you with a challenging, sexy glint in his eyes, licking his lips. His large hand is wrapped around his gorgeous thick cock, pumping it slowly, rubbing a few drops of pearly pre-cum out of the swollen dark pink tip before his hand comes to rest around the thick base of his cock, as if he is presenting himself to you unashamedly. Proudly.

And yes, he can be proud of that cock. He is so thick and long and fucking gorgeous with that fat mushroom head that has such a pretty dark pink color, just like Sukuna's hair right now when it is still wet from the shower.

And he is so hard. It makes you moan softly, seeing how bad Sukuna wants you. Just as hard for you as you are wet for him.

Sukuna's broad, muscular chest is heaving while some stray water droplets slowly run down his smooth, tattooed skin, and he smirks that sexy smirk at you while holding his cock for you, offering it to you.

You feel like you have a fever when you place your hands on Sukuna's broad shoulders and position yourself over his gorgeous thick cock, while you feel your wild heartbeat in your chest and in your pussy.

Sukuna's breath is heavy, too, ghosting over your neck as he guides his mushroom head to your dripping hole, rubbing slow, teasing circles around it that make you mewl desperately.

You push down onto Sukuna's fat swollen cockhead, your eyes closing as you feel it split you open, so thick and hot.

You gasp when you sink down on him, feeling the burn of the stretch. Even though you are so wet and ready for him, it is still a foreign feeling to take such a thick cock. Your pussy automatically clenches around him, making Sukuna curse under his breath.

His lips are on your neck again, kissing and licking hungrily, while his large hands wrap around your waist, and you sink down further on him. A loud breathless moan falls from your lips when you finally sit all the way down, the back of your thighs resting completely on Sukuna's thighs, your pussy stuffed to the brim with his whole fat length, his heavy balls resting against your ass.

Sukuna's voice is low, dripping with sex,

"Fuck, yeah. Such a good girl, taking all of me. Come on, princess, fuck me. I played so well today. I deserve a little reward."

His words drive you crazy, making you moan and twitch, and you start moving on him, pushing yourself up and down on his thick cock, gasping at how full you feel.

Sukuna's calloused hands are on your ass again, kneading it and helping you ride him, lifting you up and down on his girthy length easily. His movements change the angle slightly, and you sob loudly when his mushroom head pushes against that sweet spot inside you that makes you tremble from how good it feels.

Sukuna laughs breathlessly against your neck,

"Aww, so cute. I found it, huh?"

Your hands tighten on his broad neck while you nod and whimper while desperately bouncing on Sukuna's cock, seeking more of that ecstatic feeling, not caring how needy you look.

But you aren't the only one who is getting lost in pleasure. Sukuna is groaning against your skin, too, sounding so sexy, making you ride him even harder. He bucks his hips fucking into you, making you giggle and whine at the delirious feeling of having Sukuna's dick inside you, hitting all the right spots.

You are both in a sex haze, your bodies moving greedily against each other while the obscene noises of uninhibited sex fill the locker room. Breathy moans and low growls, and the loud, wet slapping of skin against skin.

You are riding Sukuna wildly, all inhibitions gone, chasing your orgasm, sobbing because it feels so good. You know that it will happen, that Sukuna will make you cum with his cock alone. It's something no other guy ever managed before. But you can already feel your orgasm building inside you. You press your face against Sukuna's tattooed neck, leaving heated kisses on his sweaty skin. Your sobs turn into muffled squeals as you feel his fat mushroom head fuck you closer to ultimate bliss.

When it happens, you scream his name. Your pussy tightens around Sukuna, squeezing his cock, making you delirious with how taut your body gets, how your heart races, and your vision blackens. You shudder around Sukuna's thick cock, feeling tears run down your cheeks from how incredibly good it feels. You keep bouncing on him desperately, drawing the blissful feeling out, sobbing and crying as you ride out your whole orgasm on Sukuna's gorgeous cock.

"Fuck, princess!"

Sukuna's large hands tighten on your waist, and he pulls you up, lifting you off his cock as he hisses loudly, barely making it in time before he cums too.

He lets his head fall back, a low sexy groan falling from his lips as his eyes close and his broad body shudders, his buff muscles tensing up as he cums all over your belly and his abs, shooting his hot white cum all over both of you. You look at him with your mouth hanging open, moaning softly. Watching Sukuna cum is the hottest thing you have ever seen. He looks so beautiful, so sexy, with the way his eyes close and those sexy low groans fall from his parted lips.

You sit back on Sukuna's thighs, breathing heavily as you trail your gaze down to his lap, where Sukuna's tattooed hand is wrapped around his twitching cock, pumping it slowly, rubbing his whole orgasm out of his dick.

You can't stop yourself and reach out, joining him, wrapping your smaller hand around his hard length, too, so Sukuna and you stroke his cock together, milking his thick warm seed out of his twitching mushroom head. The locker room is filled with both of your breathy moans and your muttered, "Oh damn, this is so hot," when you feel Sukuna's warm cum run down your hand.

Sukuna laughs, a sexy low rumble, and you manage to tear your gaze away from his cock and his cum on your hand and look at his face instead. He is smiling lazily at you, maroon eyes almost black with how dilated his pupils are.

Sukuna grabs your hand and pulls it off his spent cock and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, grinning at you as he flicks his tongue over a small trickle of his cum.

Your head is spinning as you stare at him. He is so nasty, and it drives you crazy, makes you want to kiss him and fuck him until the sun rises!

But you are gradually coming down from your post-orgasmic bliss, becoming too aware of your current position, half naked on Sukuna's lap with your wet pussy drooling over his muscular thighs, the sticky feeling of his cum on your belly, where your sweater rode up while riding him. You feel too exposed suddenly and scramble hastily to get off Sukuna's lap, almost slipping down, but strong hands catch you.

Sukuna helps you climb off his lap, surprisingly gentle, steadying you with his large hands and only letting go when he sees you are able to stand on your trembling legs.

You feel your face burn again as you take the towel Sukuna hands you to wipe his cum off your belly before you pull your sweater down again. There's an awkward silence when you step into the left leg of your panties and leggings again and jump a bit to pull them up while Sukuna is behind you, rummaging around in his locker.

Luckily, he is already in his sweatpants and is shrugging into his t-shirt when you turn around. You almost can't look at him, feeling so embarrassed by what the two of you just did. That unrestrained, primal fucking right here in the middle of the locker room, where anyone could have walked in at any moment.

You wring your fingers nervously, slowly backing away towards the door. But Sukuna's low voice stops you,

"Don't forget your hoodie."

You frown at him in confusion,

"What? That is your hoodie. I gave it back to you..."

But Sukuna just smirks that infuriatingly attractive smirk and cocks his head, maroon eyes sparkling with mischief,

"I never said I wanted it back, did I? Keep it. I have enough other team hoodies. And I like the way it looks on you."

"Oh... okay... thanks."

You barely have time to bring up your hands to catch the soft white hoodie that Sukuna is throwing in your direction as he laughs softly. He joins you a moment later, having finished getting dressed and slinging his sports bag over his broad shoulder.

You feel flustered just from looking at him right now. But contrary to you, Sukuna is all unbothered and confident, completely unashamed about how you fucked each other's brains out just a few minutes ago.

He holds the door open for you with a wide grin on his handsome face, all gentlemanly, letting you walk through the door before he falls in step beside you, so tall and big next to you that it makes your pulse flutter, especially now that you know how he looks naked and how he feels under your touch, how he feels inside you.

You barely resist the urge to bury your burning face in your hands.

Sukuna pulls a battered pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket and casually lights a cigarette behind his large hand, taking a deep drag and sighing contentedly as he turns to you with a grin, blowing the smoke out in your direction.

"That was a nice victory fuck, princess. You are really a top-tier lucky charm."

And you still splutter and stumble over your words when Sukuna is already lightly jogging towards the street corner leading to his and Yuuji's apartment. The last thing you see of him is a wink and another sexy smirk.

You take forever to walk home, taking a detour through the park and around the baseball pitch because you need to calm down and clear your thoughts before you face your roommate.

Pictures of Sukuna's muscles and tattoos flash before your eyes, the sounds of his low groans, the feeling of his cock stretching you out. You gulp hard. You can still feel him. Hell, you will probably still feel the slight burn of his thick cock for the whole next day! It makes you press your legs together, which only makes your face heat up more when you feel the uncomfortable sensation of your soaked panties. You think you never were that wet for a guy before.

You groan in annoyance even as a giggle bubbles out of your mouth, and you shake your head in total disbelief at what you did today.

When you finally step into your apartment, you get greeted by a glaring Nobara with her hands on her hips.

"Where were you all this time?"

And you slip out of your shoes, grinning from ear to ear, barely able to keep yourself from laughing hysterically,

"In the men's locker room. With Sukuna."

You can't suppress your laughter anymore as you quickly run to the bathroom, locking yourself in there while Nobara screams outside the door,

"You were WHAT!!??"

GRRRRR I WANT HIM SO BAD 😵😵❤️❤️

I hope you enjoyed your little trip to the locker room ;) I was losing my mind the whole time while writing this!!

Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback on the story so far!! It means a lot to me that you like Hockey Player!Sukuna ❤️❤️

Reblogs and comments would be very sweet!

In Chapter 5, Sukuna and Reader decide to become fuckbuddies.

[trulyhblue]

INAPPROPRIATE

leah williamson x arsenal! reader

warnings — tiny angst, annoyed! Leah, Emma Hayes, Chelsea, sorta fluff, coarse language, mention of injury scare.

A/N — in light of Lee’s birthday!!!! short one today, sorry! Thought I would add some spice to this. Emma Hayes needs to realize that pretty much all of woso have dated each other, including her own players lol. there is a mention of Bug, which is a character in one of my stories. Just for context, that is Caitlin Foord’s daughter.

___________________

After hearing Emma Hayes yap on about her opinion on footballers' relationships, you found yourself subjected to a pretty pissed-off Leah Williamson.

Today was the London derby, a long-awaited revenge for Chelsea, it seemed, as the Arsenal bus arrived outside the stadium. Seas of blue and red treaded the stands — you caught sight of a couple of jerseys with your number plastered on the back. Leah was holding your waist as you wandered through the mob of fans reaching for autographs and pictures, a cold facade planted across her face.

Leah was always solemn before games. She was a serious contender, North London bred, with a serious competitive nature that no one could break down.

When you moved to Arsenal from your childhood club, you instantly caught onto Leah’s prominent soberness. Every player knew that if they didn't show up for a game and give it their all, their position would falter. It wasn't like any player with a job as a professional ever thought to underperform, but Leah was an exemption from sincerity. You couldn't joke with her the same way you could during team bonding. You would be stupid to slack off during training or talk to an exaggerated extent when Leah was running beside you. The Lioness Captain copped none of it, and there was no exception for you, her girlfriend.

The woman had woken up with an eminent frown playing on her lips. This was arguably the most important game of the WSL season, and with Leah starting after a long time away, there was a newfound angst set in your shared apartment.

Not only that — the stress Leah had put on herself to perform exceptionally — but the media spotlight Chelsea’s Emma Hayes has put on herself after a certain interview regarding coach-player, and player-player relationships.

From your viewpoint, it didn't really affect you. Everyone had their own opinions based on who dated whom. There was no stopping someone for sharing what they thought, so you simply shook it off as soon as you watched the clip. You did feel bad for the select few of the Blue’s team that were dating players. To not have the personal backing of your coach wouldn't be the most relieving sensation. You knew that the fans were in upheaval regarding her comments, but to be honest, there was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

But, it seemed that Leah did not share the same insight as you.

“She can't just go ‘round saying that.” She barked, hiding the Emirates logo as she crossed her arms in disapproval. “It's barmy, that's what it is.”

You were side by side in the change rooms. Leah was already in her kit, the Chelsea socks sticking out like a sore thumb. You were tugging up your shorts, your shirt yet to cover your sports bra. You sighed, having been hearing Leah go on for the best part of the morning.

“You shouldn't let it worry you, Lee.” You muttered, sorting through your bag, ignoring your girlfriend’s huff. “I don't think she meant any harm—”

“Well she did, didn't she?” She retorted.

You pulled your jersey off the hanger, slipping it on. “Leah, c’mon.”

“Why does she feel the need to talk about us, huh? She should be more worried about the amount of injuries on her team, not about what they do in their free time.”

“Leah, that's enough.” You snapped, your hands planted firmly on your hips. The blonde in front of you looked subtly started by your sudden change of demeanour. “Don't worry about it. It's not worth your time.”

You were currently faced with the nerves of the game, on top of other things like international duties, and the Olympics. To have Leah in this mood, in such a critical time like this, was not only overwhelming but downright anxiety-inducing.

Leah didn't answer you. Instead, she tied her laces and crossed the room, exiting into the tunnel for kick-off. This gave you a few minutes to breathe, to centre yourself. You weren't starting, but your nerves were rising by the time you took your seat next to Alessia.

As soon as the game started, it was clear that Chelsea had it covered. Alessia joked that it was the socks, but you could see by the look on Lee’s face that she was fuming from something other than the odd black that covered her shin pads. You warmed up along the sideline, carrying Caitlin’s bug by your side when you saw her growing restless near Frida.

Unlike the rest of your teammates, you bit their nails at the painful game in front of them, you tried to hone your focus on keeping Bug’s hood down, making her giggle instead of wince at the tackles Caitlin was receiving.

You had been benched for the past few games, your hamstring giving you grief over training. But you were anticipating Jonas to call you over. You waited for the flick of his hand, wanting to make things right on the pitch.

The second-half whistle couldn't have come slower. The starting eleven were frustrated, angry, and quiet when entering the changing rooms, an eerie aura lingering inside. You held onto Bug all the way until Caitlin took over, trudging over to Viv, who happily took the girl up to the stands to watch. Jonas had told you and Emily that you’d be put on, so you were preparing yourself for what was to come.

You tried not to interact with Leah. It was an unspoken rule that unless it was personal, it was not to be said directly, especially when you were losing. But the blonde was leaning nearer to you the closer you were meant to be out on the pitch once more. She made the effort to tug at the hem of your shorts, and hold both your shoulders as she stood behind you, listening to the plan for the rest of the game. You pushed your back into her chest, letting her hug you from behind. She squeezed affectionately, and you noticed the subtle unravelling of her tense shoulders. Her features smoothed when she found out you were replacing Victoria in the midfield, and she made sure to hold your hand as you walked back into the stadium.

“You're doing great, Lee.” You managed to say, hoping that your substitution would be before the sixtieth minute. “Just be careful near the wing. It's very congested and you should wait for the midfield to sort it, alright?”

Leah cared deeply about her career and strived for greatness in all that she did. There was nothing that she couldn't achieve without perfection in her eyes. Many people said that you would bring her down to Earth, and remind her that mistakes are human. But there was only so much you could do, and you found that simply telling the girl that she was making the right decisions, treating her softly, was a tactic no game plan could ever beat.

You were about to find your way down the sidelines, getting ready to finish your warm-up before you were subbed on. Both teams had started filing out of their respected halftime seminars, Chelsea looking as confident as ever. Arsenal were sauntering out with much determination, the spite and inherent desire for justice spewing from the gunner’s crowd. Leah and you were near the entrance of the tunnel, standing on the edge of the field in what seemed like your own personal bubble.

Jonas had taken a seat near the rest of the officials, but Chelsea’s Emma Hayes was standing not far from where the two of you stood, skimming her surroundings vaguely without giving too much away. You could feel the irritation radiating off Leah as soon as the woman was in your sight. You both knew the coach was trying to look at you, without it being bitterly obvious, but it seemed to make the tension rise all the more. Your girlfriend found solace in kissing your forehead, running her hands down your sides painstakingly slow. You felt your cheeks go red, the blush filming over your face when Hayes’ eyes darted away.

“Leah.” You warned her wandering hands, squirming in the taller girl’s potent grip around your hips.

You pulled taunt against her, sighing when she loosened. She ignored your scolding look. A smirk was aligned on her lips, threatening to spill the cocky remarks relieving her lips. You watched her run over to the rest of the team, a meek smile matching hers.

God, you couldn't wait to go home.

_________________

A/N — again, sorry it's really short but I wanted to put something out xxxxxx

[rpgchoices]

The WINNER of the Tournament of fav tumblr rpg male romances is...

The Master of the Vollante

The Babe of Frontiers

The Heart of the Gate

WYLL RAVENGARD

Enjoy this two minute FANVIDEO DEDICATED TO HIM (don't miss the final quote, it is my favorite), I used the most appropriate song ever. Congrats, Wyll with a y!

(he is the hero, but he also needs a hero to sweep him off his feet, get it?)

With about 1235 votes, Wyll beat Garrus in the finals of the tournament. This gives him the title of best tumblr rpg blorbo and babygirl.

(more under cut about the Wyll's sweep and his character)

Wyll jumped into the tournament qualifying among 69 total characters, and being the most voted of his section in round zero! Wyll was also the most voted OVERALL in round one where he got about 6420 votes against Cullen (88% of votes). Round two saw him winning a very close competition against Zevran, and in round three he won with almost double the votes against Astarion! Again with double the votes he won against Dorian Pavus in the semifinals!

Very appropriate for him to win as his character is truly a romantic at heart and his actor even revealed in an interview that the romantic scenes were his favorite to film.

Wyll is a companion and romancable option for any gender in Baldur's Gate 3. You will meet him while he is in pursuit of a devil, just to find out that the honor and code he is trying to live by might be clashing with the path he could be choosing.

Wyll's romance has a kiss that has been nominated (and won) for "favorite kiss ever in a rpg game by me and for my opinion only and I just love it".

Man who will crack a joke when you least expect it

EVEN WHEN IT REALLY IS NOT THE TIME

Just to turn around and offer you the most heart shattering and unwavering support

Monster smasher (in all senses) hero, who truly needs someone at his side who makes sure he fights his own battles too, not just the trials of the coast!

Very happy to see he is currently (with all the biases and limitations of such polls, of course) the favorite romance in the rpg fandoms here on tumblr (for male characters)!!

Please, make sure to also jump in the female characters tournament!!

Also, CONGRATULATIONS TO GARRUS who came second in the tournament, and FENRIS who came third! (as he had more votes than Dorian, in the semifinals)

*In the fanvideo there are the seven clips that are not from Wyll games. I wanted to write them down as this is supposed to be a rec for his romance, so I don't want to trick people!

00:16 I modded Wyll into Karlach and used Astarion as player character (Karlach romance scene act 3)

00:38 Astarion romance scene, I played as Wyll but I flipped the character with the ring of metamorph mod so Wyll could pick up Astarion

00:50 Like the first clip, this is Karlach scene from act 3

00:51 I modded Karlach into Wyll, this is her scene from act 1

00:53 I modded Shadowheart into Astarion and I was playing as Wyll, this is Shadowheart romance scene in act 1

00:59 This is Astarion romance scene in act 2, I was playing as Wyll

01:07 The hug is from Astarion romance, epilogue, where I was playing as Wyll

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt6) | Leah Williamson

First rounds of Wimbledon note: Well,, I tried to wrap all on this part but it was taking too long to fit everything in one go, so next part is coming. The opponents' names are made up by the way warnings: fluff and slow burn, a bit suggestive(?) nothing really pt1 my masterlist

Music used to relax you, there was nothing better than blasting your ears with tunes at full volume while taking a little nap during a massage session. But now, that seemed impossible with Jane, your physiotherapist, working on your legs, pressing hard on your most tense spots.

“Fuck, Jane, are you sure you're a physical therapist? It feels like you're wrecking my legs,” you complained, wincing as you clenched your fists. You were lying on your stomach, your face sunk into the hole of the massage table. 

Jane just smiled, a mixture of amusement and professionalism in her expression. She would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy seeing you like this after all the frustration you caused by not listening to her advice about overdoing your workouts.

“Stop whining, this is good for your muscles,” she said softly, still working on your legs.

“It’s not whining, it’s just-” you started to say, but another particularly firm squeeze shut you up, and you let out a whimper. “Jane!”

Jane leaned over a bit and took off your headphones. “If you’d listened to me, we wouldn’t be in this mess. You told me you don’t want to have any problems with injuries, and for that, your body needs to relax and recover from all the overactivity you’ve had.”

You knew she was right. You sighed heavily, but you wouldn’t admit it. Jane knew that all too well. “Can you at least be a little gentler?”

“If I were any gentler, it wouldn’t be effective,” she said, shaking her head. “Besides, you mentioned you want to be 100% for your game tomorrow. My guess is you’re trying to impress someone, but since I’m not a specialist, I’ll keep that to myself,” she added with a cheeky grin.

You managed a small smile despite the pain and her teasing. “Yeah, okay, I’ll shut up. But seriously, how much longer?”

Jane glanced at the clock on the wall, but when she saw your coach walk in, she didn’t answer.

“Hmhm,” Lucas cleared his throat, standing by the table. From where you were lying, you could only see his legs. “Can you explain what’s going on here?”

Jane’s hands stopped immediately as she turned her attention to Lucas.

“What’s going on now?” you asked, reluctantly sitting up on the table and facing your coach, who was holding a bouquet of flowers. “Since when does Wimbledon send flowers to players?” you chuckled, it was a pretty classy move, just right for an English tournament.

“It’s not from Wimbledon,” Lucas said, pulling out a small pink envelope from the flowers. “I haven’t read it,” he assured you, handing both the envelope and the flowers over. 

Lucas didn’t look happy, but surprisingly he didn’t seem mad either. His face was more a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

“I think I have a guess about who sent them,” he said, glancing over at Jane.

“Was it you? Aww, how sweet! They say you get nicer with age,” you teased the woman, giving her a playful nudge.

“It wasn’t me,” Jane said, playfully pinching your cheek with a grin.

“Ouch! Don’t do that,” you said, rubbing your cheek and then looking at the flowers. They were perfect, not too flashy, not too small. With a smile you didn’t even notice you had, you figured out who must’ve sent them. It was pretty obvious.

You set the flowers aside on the table and opened the envelope, with your coach and Jane watching intently. As you read the note, your heart skipped a beat.

[Best of luck for tomorrow, darling. I can’t be there, but I’ll be rooting for you no matter what. Kisses, L.W.]

“Is she blushing?” you heard Lucas mutter to Jane.

“Tell me, have you ever seen her this calm? She almost looks like an angel,” Jane said, shaking her head with a grin.

“I’m hearing you loud and clear,” you said, trying to keep your cool, even though you could feel your cheeks warming up.

“So, who’s the flowers from?” Lucas asked again, crossing his arms and giving you a serious look.

“The card doesn’t say,” you said, trying to slip the card back into the envelope.

“But you know who it is,” Jane said, her tone more certain.

“Nope.”

“Ah, well. We know who it is,” Lucas said with a smirk.

You stared at them, unsure of what to say.

“You’re just trying to get me to spill the name. I’m not telling you,” you said firmly.

“Oh, we know,” Jane insisted, her grin widening.

“Alright, then tell me who it is,” you said defiantly, crossing your arms and copying Lucas’s posture.

“Leah Williamson,” they answered at the same time. Lucas was dead serious, while Jane had a cheeky smirk.

You choked on your own saliva, realizing you’d just heard the name of the person who’d sent the flowers.

“W-what are you talking about? Have you both lost it?” you stammered, trying to cover up but failing miserably.

“We’ve seen her leaving your hotel a few times these past weeks,” Lucas said, staring at you with that intense, questioning look.

“Just a coincidence,” you said, turning your back on them, cursing yourself (and Leah for not being more discreet). “She could be friends with another player. The hotel’s packed.”

Jane giggled, and Lucas sighed, crossing his arms with a resigned look. “Yeah, right. And I’m the king of England,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I get what’s going on here. Just make sure you don’t mess things up. Focus on tennis during the matches. You can do all your talking and showing off with Williamson after you win your match. Got it?”

“Got it”

Wimbledon, day 2. Round of 128. Court 2.

The first match was usually the easiest since your opponent was often weaker, but tennis isn’t always about rankings and stats. Knowing that anything could happen made you a bit nervous. Even though those nerves hadn’t shown on the court so far, with a score of 1-0 and a pretty straightforward 6-3 win in the first set. But you still felt the pressure.

Your opponent’s first serve wasn’t the strongest, but you stayed alert. As the ball bounced on the grass, you got ready to return it. You adjusted your visor to block the sun, reminding yourself how crucial it was to stay focused between points.

When you saw your opponent toss the ball for her serve, you sprang into action, returning it with force. Unfortunately, you hit it a bit too hard, and it landed just inches outside the line.

The next serve was a bit stronger, and although you didn’t handle it perfectly with your racket, you still managed to get the ball over the net. Your opponent went for a volley but missed, giving you another point.

You glanced over at your team and saw Lucas grinning and giving you two thumbs up. You took a deep breath, feeling pretty relaxed knowing you had the match under control. You were almost there and could almost taste moving on to the next round.

The rest of the points were pretty smooth, though your opponent switched things up towards the end. She figured out that when she hit a low, fast ball, you had to work harder to return it.

On the last point to win the match, she did exactly what she’d been doing for most of the last set. When you saw that low ball coming, you rushed forward without thinking, got to it just in time, and smashed it across the court in the opposite direction your opponent was running.

And just like that, you’d made it through the first round.

Relief washed over you. You grabbed the gold chain around your neck, giving it a little tug as you walked over to your opponent. With a subtle smile, you shook her hand. She gave you a firm grip and a tired smile back. There weren’t many words exchanged, neither with her nor with the umpire.

As you waved to a few people in the stands, you couldn’t help but wonder if Leah had been watching. You really hoped she had.

“Great game, fast and on point. Nicely done,” Lucas said when you met after, giving you a friendly pat on the back.

“I made a bunch of unforced errors though. We need to work on that,” you said, handing him your racket bag.

“We’ll sort it out after the press conference,” he replied.

Leah was pretty nervous. She had no idea how you’d react to the surprise. After a match, she figured you’d be wiped out, and here she was, standing in your hotel room with dinner ready on the table. She’d made sure to keep it alcohol free, just as she promised Lucas early.

She still couldn’t figure out how she ended up with messages from your coach in her DMs. You hadn’t said much since yesterday, just sent her a selfie with the flowers she gave you.

Then she heard footsteps and voices outside the room. The door opened, and there you were, looking exhausted. You shut the door behind you with a bit of a struggle.

“Surprise,” Leah said softly, trying not to startle you.

You couldn’t help but jump when you saw her standing there. All that tiredness from the match seemed to disappear in an instant. You rushed toward Leah, and luckily, she reacted quickly, opening her arms just in time to catch you. As you practically threw yourself at her, she wrapped her arms around you, keeping you both from crashing to the floor.

“Leah! How the heck did you get in?” you asked, still stunned.

Leah didn’t answer right away. Instead, she looked at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, clearly taken aback by how close you were. Then, without missing a beat, she leaned in and kissed you. You closed your eyes, melting into the kiss as your lips met hers.

“Congratulations,” she whispered against your lips before kissing you again, this time with more intensity. She wrapped her arms around you, lifting you slightly so you could wrap your legs around her, holding you close in the air. “You were incredible today,” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “Loved the new white outfit”

“Stop trying to flatter me while you’re kissing me,” you said, scrunching your nose with a playful grin.

“Why?” Leah asked, tightening her grip on your waist just a bit more.

“Because it turns me on, and I’ve got this no-sex-on-tournaments rule,” you explained, trying not to roll your eyes at Leah’s mischievous grin.

“You know that sex doesn’t actually mess with your performance, right?”

“It’s not about that,” you said, holding up your gold chain for emphasis. “It’s just bad luck for me, and I’m super into my rituals and all that.”

“Sounds kinda boring,” Leah said with a laugh, clearly enjoying teasing you. Then she set you down and, before you could say anything else, she cupped your face in her hands. She made you stand on your tiptoes and kissed you again, this time gently and tenderly. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” you said, almost against your will, as you gently pushed Leah away. “Now, without sounding like a stalker, how did you get into my room?”

“Well, it’s pretty much common knowledge that your coach knows about us now,” Leah said, giving you a knowing look. You nodded in agreement. “Well, he messaged me to thank me. He says your backhand’s gotten way better since we started talking”  she added with a smirk, clearly pleased with herself.

“That’s got nothing to do with you,” you shot back, trying to play it cool.

“Anyway,” Leah said, brushing off your comment, “he told me I’ve got his blessing to be around you, especially now.” She playfully tugged at the laces of your joggers, pulling you so close you could feel her warmth and her breath on your skin. “He thinks I bring you luck.”

“It doesn’t,” you said, feeling your heart race and your stomach flutter from her closeness.

“Well, you won Roland Garros with me in the stands,” she murmured with a soft smile.

“I won because your mom was there,” you replied, trying to stay serious.

“Ugh, don’t mention my mum when we’re this close,” Leah said with a glare, giving you a playful shove. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way she tried to look frustrated while you both stood so close.

You’d never had company like this during a tournament before. Sure, your parents would show up for the big matches, but it wasn’t quite the same as seeing other players with their partners by their side throughout the whole tournament. You couldn’t help but feel a little envious.

“And besides,” Leah said, taking your hand and guiding you toward the table where dinner was set up. “I’m here to make sure you eat something decent, not just shove sandwiches down your throat.” She gestured at the table with a playful sigh. “It’s something light and flat- I didn’t pick the menu,” she said, wrinkling her nose at a plate full of vegetables.

Even though it was just a simple thing, having Leah here made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. It was something new and comforting that you didn’t realize you’d been missing.

“But it has the right amount of protein-” Leah started again, but you gently pulled her arm, making her turn to face you. Before she could say more, you leaned in and kissed her, your lips brushing against hers with a smile. She looked surprised for a second before smiling into it.

“I adore you,” you murmured against her lips, feeling the warmth of her presence make everything feel right.

Wimbledon, day 4. Round of 64. Court 3.

Having Leah in the stands was a whole new level of intensity. Sure, she’d been there before, but this was the first time you were fully aware she was just a few feet away, watching your every move. She was standing next to Jane, who was chatting away as you walked onto the court. You didn’t want to draw too much attention (though it was already a bit odd that the captain of the Lionesses was sitting with your team), so you just gave a casual nod and a small tilt of your visor to acknowledge her.

“Who’s the blonde?” your opponent, Feya, asked from her chair. You got along with her well enough, so it was more curiosity than anything else.

You glanced over at Leah as you opened your first bottle of water. She was wearing sunglasses, but her blonde hair was still pretty noticeable. However, in a tennis crowd, people would probably recognize a top 50 player faster than a female football star, so Leah wasn’t really standing out.

“Just part of my team,” you said, trying to keep it cool as you headed to the center of the court to warm up.

“She’s really locked in,” Leah said, nodding as the first set ended 4-6 in your favor. She’d been worried that having her here might throw you off, but it looked like you were totally on top of your game.

“You know,” Jane chimed in, still keeping her eyes on you as you rested with a towel over your face. “But Y/n can be quite... full of herself,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “She loves the spotlight and showing off. And trust me, having you here today is like adding fuel to her fire. She’ll be pushing herself even harder, wanting to impress you. When it’s over, she’ll probably act like it was easy, but she’s doing all this to catch your eye.”

“I don’t think that-”

“It’s not a bad thing. ” Jane said with a chuckle. “We’ve seen it before, I mean, trying to impress her parents. That’s why her coach isn’t bothered by you being here.”

Leah sighed, glancing over at you. You were hunched over, focused on a spot on the grass, completely in the zone.

“If she keeps this up for the rest of the match, she’ll have it in the bag. Let’s just hope it stays that way,” Jane said softly, her eyes full of admiration and concern as she looked at you.

The first few games of the second set had been going great. You were already 1-2 up, having just broken your opponent’s serve. Now it was your turn to serve, and you were locked in. You adjusted your grip on the racket, focused on your routine, bouncing the ball, eyeing the service box, and preparing to unleash a powerful first serve.

Just as you were about to toss the ball, the umpire’s voice cut through your focus. You glanced around and saw people talking and walking away, and the ball boys darting across the court. You muttered a curse under your breath, feeling a wave of frustration. Looking up, you saw a massive black cloud rolling in.

“Fuck me” you muttered, frustration thick in your voice. You looked up at the sky again, knowing what was coming. 

The umpire’s voice came through, barely audible over the commotion, “We’ll see if we can resume play in an hour.”

The din of the crowd grew louder as the reality of the rain set in. You tried to keep your frustration in check, knowing that any outburst could earn you a warning. You bit your lip, took a deep breath, and tried to calm your racing thoughts.

You wanted to scream, but you knew better than to lose it in front of everyone. You bit your lip and took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. You were playing some of your best tennis, every shot was spot on, and now rain was messing it all up. It was definitely going to give your opponent a breather, and you could practically see her smiling with relief on the other side of the court. 

Grumbling, you grabbed your stuff and headed back inside, your eyes almost blank. You didn't want anything to distract you. You put on your headphones, letting the music fill your mind and block out the chaos around you. You walked to the bathroom and locked yourself in. The echo of your footsteps bounced around the empty hallway, and every second of waiting felt like a hit to your concentration.

Inside the bathroom, you leaned against the wall, closing your eyes and trying to keep your focus. You replayed every point won in your head, every strategy planned.  Hopefully, your opponent was the one freaking out during this break. But Feya had way more experience and probably knew exactly how to handle this situation. You, on the other hand, had only a couple of rain delayed matches under your belt and had lost all of them after the restart. The statistics weren’t in your favor.

Pacing back and forth, you tried not to get cold. Your heart was still racing from the match, and you didn’t want to lose that. This was only the second round of Wimbledon, and going home this early was not an option, especially not with Leah watching you so closely.

You took a deep breath, still leaned against the cold wall, and grabbed your phone. Without hesitation, you dialed Leah's number. It didn't ring for more than three seconds before you heard her voice.

"Hey..."

"Leah," you said, but then froze. Damn, you had to stay focused, you were still halfway through the game.

"I wanted to call you, but your coach said it wouldn't be a good idea."

You put the phone down for a moment and adjusted your headphones. Your breathing started to hitch. You brought your forearm to your face and covered your eyes.

"Why? Did he say it would be a bad idea because I might be upset?" you said, letting out a nervous laugh.

"He said exactly that."

"Well, he was right, damn old man," you said, laughing despite the lump forming in your throat. "Would it offend you if I said how much I hate England right now?"

Leah's laughter calmed you a bit. It seemed as if she was oblivious to the whole situation that had you on the verge of collapse. That helped. Maybe everything wasn't as bad as your head was making it out to be.

"It's not the first time I've heard that," Leah said. "But England has good things to offer too. You just have to give it time."

"I would if it wasn't for this damn rain," you mumbled. "I was sure I could win 1-6. I just wanted to finish the match, and now I don't even know if it will be over."

"Your coach says the weather isn't too bad. Just hang in there..."

"Leah, I think I'm gonna lose this round," you said, rubbing your face with both hands, frustration bubbling up. "I don't wanna go home." You didn’t want to cry, but the tears were already starting to fall.

"You're not going home," Leah said firmly. "Remember last year? You made it to the semifinals with no problem."

"Yeah, but... I didn't have any rain delays last year," you sighed. "I got lucky last year. That's what I kept telling myself throughout the tournament. But this time feels different... maybe it's a sign that things aren't going my way this time."

"No," Leah cut in, her tone sharp. "It's not different. You're more experienced now, you've just won a Grand Slam, and you've worked on your game and your mindset. Don't let a cloud ruin all that."

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, letting Leah's words sink in. You needed that reminder, that spark of trust, to know she believed in you.

"Thanks, Leah," you whispered, feeling the lump in your throat start to dissolve. "I'm going to try."

"That's all you can do. Now, breathe, relax. You're in control."

"Promise me that if I lose... you won't leave," you asked in a soft, vulnerable whisper.

Leah was silent for a few seconds before she spoke again. "You won't lose. You'll win the next points, get through this round, and then we'll go rest."

"That's not what I asked," you said, almost pleading.

You heard Leah sigh. "I promise, I won't leave, no matter what."

Leah kept talking after that, slowly helping you keep it together, distracting you from the chaos around and within you. Her voice was a steady anchor, grounding you in the moment, making you feel like everything might just be okay.

An hour later, the game finally resumed. As soon as you stepped onto the court, it was clear you weren’t the same player from the first set. Your arms felt heavy, and your legs were shaky. The sky still looked threatening, and the air felt different from a few hours ago. You glanced at Feya, who seemed to be loving this new scenario, walking energetically to her spot while you felt like you were moving through mud.

Passing by your team's section, you couldn't even lift your head so you just shook it. You needed to pull yourself together. Unzipping your top a bit, you grabbed the chain around your neck. This was where you were supposed to be, and you had to push through. You wouldn't let Leah see you as a loser.

But thinking about it was easier than doing it.

Your serve was awful, like you had butter on your hands making the racket slip. You couldn't get any balls inside the lines. With each missed serve, frustration built up inside you, making it harder to rally and cheer yourself up.

As the match dragged on, you were piling up unforced errors, practically handing points to your opponent with every shot. You needed to pull yourself together before Feya completely wrecked your game.

"Focus Y/n," you muttered, adjusting your visor, sweat dripping from your forehead more from nerves than from running around. You took a deep breath, trying to channel all your frustration into your wrist as you prepared to hit the ball. Unfortunately, your swing lacked precision, and the ball ended up hitting the net.

The game was now at 40-15 to Feya. One more mistake and she would go up 4-2. You hadn't won a single game since the rain delay. Right now, you just needed to get the ball over the net, just that one simple task first. Trying to stay calm, you managed a clean serve. Luckily, Feya returned it weakly, and you seized the opportunity, smashing the ball with all your strength, aiming for the line.

The ball landed just behind Feya, and you heard the crowd cheering, but there was no time to celebrate as Feya immediately challenged the call.

"The ball never touched the line!" she argued with the umpire. Your stomach knotted up as you watched the exchange.

You knew she was right a minute later. 

“Game, Feya,” the umpire said into the mic, giving the point to your opponent. Feya was already celebrating, waving to the crowd.

You felt the weight of the match pressing down on you. It was a tough blow, but you couldn't let it break your spirit. You had to regroup and fight back.

Hearing the crowd go wild for Feya was overwhelming. Every cheer and clap made you feel smaller and smaller on the court. The cheers that used to lift you up now felt like they were weighing you down.

You glanced over at Lucas, hoping for some reassurance, but his face was as blank as ever, trying hard not to show any concern. Hesitating, you looked towards Leah, just a couple of seats to the right. She gave you a small thumbs up and a faint smile, a quiet gesture that seemed to offer a bit of calm.

“Come on!” Feya shouted after nailing another winning shot. Her excitement felt like a stark contrast to your growing despair.

When you went back to your chair, you took a sip of water and tried to calm your breathing. Leah’s words kept running through your head. 

“You’re in control”

But right now, it felt like that control was slipping through your fingers.

“Come on, breathe,” you muttered to yourself, but it felt like the air was stuck in your lungs. You shut your eyes and clenched your fists, feeling the sweat and frustration mix on your palms.

When you got back to the court, it was like your body was on autopilot. Every swing felt off, and your movements were sluggish. Your opponent was all over you, dragging you from corner to corner, wearing you down physically and mentally.

By the last game of the second set, you weren’t even trying to win points anymore. You just wanted it to be over. You promised yourself you’d pull it together and make a comeback in the third set.

You sank into the chair again, trying to catch your breath and calm your racing thoughts. Taking a long sip of water, you glanced around. The sky was finally starting to clear, with the sun making a slow comeback behind the clouds. A gentle breeze brushed against your face, and you shut your eyes for a moment, trying to recapture the focus that had slipped away.

Man, if only the weather had been like this all day. Leah was right, you’d need some time to really appreciate this place, but you were willing to give it a shot, just for her. You daydreamed about hanging out with her, going for a lazy walk, or just chilling at her place,  breathing in her scent and running your fingers through her hair. If only you could wrap up this match and get to enjoy those moments, where you could kiss her, let her hug you, and hear all those cheesy lines of hers that make your heart flutter.

But first, you had to win this. You didn’t want Leah to have to comfort you; you wanted her to celebrate your victory and be proud to be with someone who had accomplished something great. You were determined to give her that.

The umpire called you and Feya back onto the court for the start of the third set. You knew you needed to grab an early lead to turn things around. Feya was looking pretty cocky, flashing a grin that made it seem like she was reading your every move. But you couldn’t let that get to you. It was all about focusing on each point.

You took your spot on the baseline, mentally gearing up for battle. The umpire's voice cut through the tension, announcing the start of the final set.

Feya served first, and the ball came toward you with impressive speed. But you were ready for it this time. It was the same serve you’d seen throughout the previous set. You sprang into action, positioning yourself for a powerful forehand return. You whipped the ball with a deep, precise cross court backhand, the kind you’d been perfecting ever since Leah had pointed out how well you were executing that shot in some or your previous dates. Feya managed a weak return, and you seized the opportunity, charging forward and smashing the ball into the opposite corner. Feya was left scrambling halfway down the court.

0-15

You felt a burst of confidence. You looked over at Leah and for the first time in the match, flashed her a big, genuine smile. It was like a switch had flipped, and you were right back in your element.

The next point turned up the heat even more.  Feya tried a serve and volley move, but you were quick on your feet. You lunged forward and nailed a backhand volley that just skimmed the net, landing right on the baseline. Feya had no chance of reaching it.

0-30

You could see Feya starting to lose her cool. She was slipping back to the nervous player from the first set, just like you were getting back into your game. Realizing she needed a new strategy, she started hitting higher and deeper shots to mess with you, but you stayed calm and took your time to set up your shots.

In one of the rallies, you spotted your chance. Feya sent up a short, high ball. You smacked a topspin drive that landed perfectly in the corner of the court.

court.

0-40

The game was slipping into your control. With every point you won, your confidence surged back. You knew you had to keep up this level of play. You took your position to receive the next serve, focused and ready. Feya tried an open serve, but you anticipated it perfectly, firing back with a powerful cross court shot. After a few intense exchanges, you decided to end it, pushing Feya into a tough spot. With a decisive forehand, you wrapped up the game.

“Game, Y/n” the umpire called out.

You celebrated with a big grin, clapping your hands together, just like Feya had done earlier.

“Williamson,” Lucas’s voice made Leah jump. She turned to find him with a serious look on his face. “What did you do to her?”

“Huh?” Leah was confused.

“Whatever it is, keep it up. My girl’s on fire.” Lucas said with a huge smile, almost with a hint of pride.

“I didn’t do anything, sir,” Leah tried to explain, as she watched you return to your spot after the break.

You had a serious look on your face, eyes focused straight ahead. Leah swallowed hard. You were a whole different player now compared to the previous set. Back then, she’d seen your hands shaking. Now, you were celebrating each point with passion, flashing her big smiles and winks after every great shot. Leah couldn’t help but think you were dedicating those moments to her, and she wasn’t wrong. 

All Leah wanted now was a cold shower, and if she could share it with you, even better.

The score was 2-5 in the final set, and it was your turn to serve. The whole court felt electric, with everyone hanging on every move, knowing this moment could be the game changer. Leah sighed deeply, watching as you neared the end of what had been one of your toughest matches.

You stood at the baseline, gripping your racket tightly, trying to calm the nerves buzzing inside you. You were determined to finish this match on a high note. You took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand, knowing that you could turn things around with the right mindset.

You tossed the ball into the air and served it with precision and power, landing right in the corner of the service box. Your opponent barely managed to get her racket on it, sending back a high, weak shot. You moved in quickly, taking full advantage and smacking a winning volley that left no chance for a return.

0-15

The next point was a real battle. You and Feya were just slamming shots back and forth from the baseline, moving side to side all over the court. Then, you broke the pattern with a killer cross court backhand that pushed your opponent into a corner. Desperate, she tried a smash, but it went wide.

“Out!”

0-30. You were almost there. 

The crowd was now buzzing with excitement, sensing the win was within reach. You took a deep breath and got ready for your next serve. This time, you went for a powerful serve to the corner. The ball shot off your racket and bounced before Feya could even react.

“Ace!”

You were on match point.

The court fell silent after a second, everyone waiting for you to close it out. This was your moment, the chance to turn things around and give the crowd something to cheer about after the previous set. With a grin, you adjusted your visor and shot Leah a playful look as you tightened your gold chain. You knew exactly what you were doing, and you hoped she did too.

You tossed the ball up again, locking in on it. Your serve was fast and right on target, aimed at the T. Your opponent reached for it, but the ball zoomed past her, landing perfectly in the corner.

“Ace!”

“Game, set, match,” the umpire announced.

You raised your arms up as the crowd went wild.

After all the interviews, press conferences, and autograph signings, you finally had time for Leah. You spotted her, she was chatting with Jane, and without a second thought, you sprinted over to her, not caring about the hours your legs spent on the court before. You jumped into her arms, knowing Leah would catch you, no matter what.

“Careful, darling!” she laughed, catching you with just one arm around your waist. You were drenched in sweat and out of breath, but Leah didn't seem to mind at all. “How do you feel?” she whispered in your ear. 

“Like I’m the best tennis player in the world,” you said with a cheeky grin.

“Hm, you might not be feeling that great tomorrow,” Jane said with a roll of her eyes, giving you a friendly shove to get you off Leah. “Let the poor girl breathe, she was on edge the whole game, and her legs must be killing her now.” she added, grabbing your bag and heading off, leaving you alone with Leah.

After you two were alone, you noticed Leah was carrying a huge bag and that’s why she’d only used one arm to hold you. “What’s in the bag?” you asked

“Oh, um… ” Leah’s face went red as she scratched the back of her neck. “Well, I had a lot of free time during the rain delay and... I was a bit nervous too, so I ended up going to the Wimbledon store.”

Before Leah could react, you snatched the bag from her hand.

“Damn, Leah,” you said, trying to hide your laugh by covering your mouth with your hand. “What the heck, did you bring the whole store?”

“Hey, I didn’t get to shop last year, and I needed some stuff,” she said, cringing as you started pulling things out of the bag. A lot of keychains, strawberry-shaped ones, little tennis rackets, and balls. “How many keys do you have that you need this many keychains?” you teased.

“Some of them are for gifts,” Leah said, quickly snatching them from your hands.

You reached in again and pulled out a huge green blanket. “What’s this for?”

“I was freezing! Unlike you, I was standing around and it was cold!” Leah said, her eyes wide as she almost panicked.

“Please tell me you didn’t get the Wimbledon socks,” you said, barely whispering, but Leah’s guilty look said it all.

“Don’t look at me like that! They’re absolutely my style!” Leah shot back, looking offended. “I can definitely pull them off!”

You thought about it for a second... Yeah, Leah had this way of rocking whatever she wore.

"Alright, you’ve got a point there, babe,” you said with a bit of a chuckle, feeling a bit defeated.

"Thanks," Leah replied, her smile warming up as she heard the nickname. “And I got one more thing,” she said, getting serious as she grabbed the bag and pulled out a giant tennis ball. “Here,” she said, handing it to you.

“What do you expect me to do with this?” you asked, eyeing the ball, it was one of those that kids get autographed all the time. “Leah, are you for real?”

Leah didn't say a word at first. Instead, she walked over to you and gently placed both hands on your waist. Leaning in close, she whispered, “What do I need to do to get my favorite tennis player’s autograph?” She gave you a quick, sweet kiss on the tip of your nose. “Is that enough?”

“I’ll think about it,” you murmured, almost lost in the sensation of her breath brushing against yours.

Leah shook her head with a playful smile and cupped the back of your neck, guiding you into a deep, tender kiss. 

“Congratulations on making it through the round,” she murmured between kisses, her voice filled with warmth and pride. Your smile widened as you let the joy of her affection wash over you.

“Maybe you are a lucky charm” you whispered.