#coaching plan forms

[queenoftreasures]

How One Assignment Reignited My Creative Flame

“The easy road is always crowded. The path less travelled is where you’ll find your true self.” Bard In all my life plans, a career was not even listed. Life’s only purpose was to study and get married. Yes, it does sound archaic, but that’s the way it was. For anything to come to its logical conclusion, your beliefs and life’s path have to be aligned. Mine weren’t. Reading and Writing Improve…

[sapphire-writes]

the winner takes it all

Art x Reader x Tashi

summary: winners deserve rewards, and Tashi is more than happy to spoil her star athlete with the help of her ever-dutiful husband.

word count: 2.7k

rating: mature/explicit/18+

warnings: porn no plot (deep breath) m/f/f dynamic, threesome, dom!Tashi, switch!Art, sub!Reader, p in v, creampie, overstim, hair pulling, titty play, use of toys, praise, teasing, spanking, orgasm denial, oral (fem receiving), oral (reader giving fem), face sitting

note: hope you enjoy! my first non-HOTD related fic!

link to other stories from me!

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Your match had taken place several hours ago. You’d been anxious the entire time, but ended up winning, much to you and your coach’s pleasure. The ride back to the hotel was torturous, as well as the following mandatory ice bath, sauna, shower, and footage review. It was the routine you’d followed ever since Tashi began coaching you.

She was nothing if not thorough.

After tying up several loose ends, including Tashi grilling you for every point you missed, every fault she could see when she paused the footage, you now found yourself in a more pleasurable position. 

Art held your legs open as he continued his even thrusts, cock sliding against the walls of your pussy at a torturous pace. Tashi sat beside you, clad only in a silk robe and lace panties, brushing some hair from your face that was sticking to your forehead with perspiration.

You had the suite to yourself for the night. Tashi and Art’s little girl was safely tucked away with her grandmother in another elegant suite on the other side of the hotel. Another part of the routine. 

“Tash….”

“You did well out there today,” she interrupts, reaching beside her to the end table drawer and pulling out her Hitachi wand. It buzzes to life as she turns it on and a strangled whine leaves your throat as she presses it to your clit,  “See what happens when you put in the extra time? That backhand of yours is a lethal weapon now.”

“Fuck!” is the only response you’re able to give as Art moans at the vibrations as he continues to pound into you. 

She likes you best like this, fucked dumb on Art’s cock, mindlessly agreeing to her plans for future matches, eyes rolling back in your head. Different moves she’ll have you practice. How hard she plans to work you on the court the following morning. 

“Come on, come for me,” Tashi insists, hand trailing over your breasts, “What’s my girl need to come, hm? Need these pretty tits attended to?” She pinches your nipple for emphasis and your jaw slacks, a pleasurable current in your gut winding tighter and tighter with the continuous stimulation.

Art slings your left leg over his shoulder, pressing a tender kiss to your calf as he does so. 

The new angle sends him deeper inside of you and you clench, mouth falling open with an uncontrollable moan.

“That’s it,” Tashi murmurs, eyes never leaving your face, “Feels so good doesn’t it? Art knows how to treat his girl, huh? Don’t you baby?”

“Yes,” he hissed between clenched teeth, beads of sweat forming on his brow, “Fucking perfect pussy, god—”

Tashi removes her hand from your breast, taking hold of your chin.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes water with pleasurable tears but you do as she asks, always keen to follow her instructions. The tennis court, the bedroom, it was all the same playing field in the end.

“Come on baby,” she murmurs, leaning down and pressing a kiss against your lips, “Come for me, you’ve been such a good girl, you deserve it.”

“Fuck!” Art courses as your pussy tightens around him, “Oh uhhh—”

“I’m cumming,” you helplessly whimper, the words nearly a sob, “Tashi…..fuck….Art fuck feels so—-“ your abdominal muscles tense as your reach your peak, white-hot ecstasy flooding your body as a shudder rolls through you. 

Tashi smiles as you come, fingers dancing down your neck. Art fucks you through it, leaning forward to pound into you at a harder rhythm, chasing his imminent release. It’s only then Tashi glances at him, her smile dropping slightly.

“Don’t cum.”

Art’s hips stutter as your walls continue to flutter around his thick length, his jaw slacks, eyes watering as he looks at his wife.

“Tash—”

“I said no,” she insists, shutting off the vibrator and throwing it to the side. Leaning forward, she captures your lips in a kiss. She sits up, a smile on her face as she kisses Art as well. He whimpers against her lips, hard and pulsating inside you still. But Tashi never changes her mind.

“You want to come, you should try winning.” 

“Tash please,” Art’s voice was strained, Adam’s apple bobbing, his expression pained, “please let me come.”

“Yeah?” She taunts moving up to kiss him. She brings her lips close to his, his eyes fluttering shut as she barely brushes the soft pout of her mouth against his. His lips part, head tilting to chase her. 

You watch from below them, still trying to slow your breathing. You like watching them dance, this push and pull they have. It’s hypnotizing, the effect she has on him. On you. Tashi pushes his chest and his eyes flutter open.

“Sit.” 

Tashi nods to the chair in the corner of the room. Art hesitates and she raises a brow when he doesn’t move quickly enough. Teeth clenched, Art unsheathes his aching cock from your warmth, hissing as he pulls completely out. Your breath hitches at the loss of him, and you gaze up at Tashi waiting for her next instruction. 

Fully naked, Art walks to the chair, cock hard and swinging between his legs as though he’s nothing more than a scolded pup. 

Tashi stands walking over to him, and Art tilts his chin to meet her eyes. Slowly, she lets the silk robe fall from her shoulders, and she takes her time removing it and placing it on his lap. You can see his erection through the soft purple fabric. 

“Hold that for me, would you?” she asks, turning back to face you.

You can’t help it as your gaze falls to her breasts; supple and mouth-watering, dark nipples taunting you. The dip of flesh between her abdominal muscles, a spot you’ve run your tongue along countless times now. Tashi rejoins you on the bed, lying next to you, looping her thumbs in the waistband of her lace panties. 

“You want a taste, baby?” she asks, smiling slightly at you.

You nod eagerly as she beckons you with a tilt of her chin. Scrambling into a kneeling position you slot yourself between Tashi’s toned legs, replacing her fingers and gently pulling off her lace panties, tossing them to the side and revealing her glistening sex.

Two things turn Tashi on. Telling you and Art what to do, and tennis.

Tashi brings her hand down her front tracing down her toned stomach until she reaches the soft curls that frame her pussy. She takes two fingers and spreads herself before you. 

“Come on, baby,” she murmurs, her voice low and seductive, “Eat up.”

She’s an enchantress, you swear, using some sort of siren song to pull you in. Even here between her legs, she’s in charge; it’s you who’s helpless. You lower your face toward her pussy, already drunk on the scent of her even before your tongue reaches her warm slit. 

You couldn’t hold in your moan of pleasured relief even if you tried as your tongue dipped lower, parting her lips and dipping inside her right entrance. There’s something about her, how she feels, how she tastes. You’ll never get enough of it. You nuzzle closer to her, nose bumping against her clit and she rewards you with a breathy sigh. 

“Art,” she calls as you eagerly continue lavishing her pussy with attention, “How’s the view?”

“Fucking breathtaking,” he answered, his voice strangled, “Tashi please….”

“She’s so good,” Tashi praises, nails taking against your scalp sending pleasurable tingles down your spine, “Put that pretty mouth of yours where it counts. Show me how badly you want it.” 

Your tummy flutters with excitement and you suction your lips around Tashi’s clit, sucking the sensitive button as you hear Art stand up. 

“Put that ass up,” Tashi instructs you, her voice airy, nearly breathless. You arch your back, leaning forward into her as Art’s hands cup the front of your thighs. 

You wiggle as he kneels behind you, his breath on your pussy before his lips meet your pussy. You moan against Tashi’s cunt as Art trails his hands up your thighs, spreading your cheeks wider as he feasts on you, tongue dipping inside of you and then up to circle your clit. 

“I’ll make you a deal baby,” Tashi purrs, back arching off the bed slightly as your tongue circles her pearl, “If you make her finish before I do, I’ll let you come.”

Art groans against you, finishing with a frustrated whine as Tashi chuckles. You glance up at her, drinking in the blissed-out expression on her face, that sly smirk that reaches her eyes. 

“Deal?”

Art doesn’t hesitate, he simply redoubles his efforts, tongue entering you with desperate precision. Your lips falter, the pleasure messing with your coordination as Art ups the ante. You feel him pull away from you, and hear the wet pop of his fingers entering his mouth and leaving just as quickly. Then he’s breaching you, fingers slipping inside you with ease from the continued attention following your first orgasm.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as Art fingers you. He sets a rough pace, placing his opposite hand on your asscheek and squeezing the soft flesh. 

The two fingers he has plunged inside you to the knuckle curl perfectly against your spongy walls, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time he curls his fingers. 

“Come on,” Art murmurs, slapping your ass, “I know you want to come again.”

“Yes she does,” Tashi agrees, unable to help herself. 

“Greedy girl, never satisfied with just one, huh?” Art teases and Tashi chuckles at his efforts. Art never speaks to her like that, only you. Tashi prefers the more dominant role over both you and her husband.

Still eager to please her you sloppily continue eating her out, lost in the sensation of Art's fingers in your pussy, Tashi’s fingers in your hair—

“Come on baby,” Art encourages, though there’s a hint of desperation in his tone. He wants to come just as badly as you do.

“Such a messy girl,” Tashi coos, propping herself on her elbows, “Oh but so so good. I’m getting close…”

Art slaps your ass again, curling his fingers against your g-spot, and it’s no use. Your jaw slacks and your head lolls against the softness of Tashi’s inner thigh as your walls clench around Art’s fingers, your release barreling through you like a freight train. It knocks the air from your lungs, a desperate cry leaving you as Art makes a noise of triumph. 

“So you are capable of winning,” Tashi snaps, a little too cold to be simply a bedroom taunt. Art stares at her, before she sits up, “I haven’t come yet.”

“Let me,” you murmur, looking up at her, still lying on her thigh. She smiles down at you, stroking your cheek.

“You’re a sweet girl,” she praises, “But Art won. I think he deserves to finish in that sweet little pussy of yours. Would you like that?”

“Tash…I can’t,” you whimper, still sensitive and tingly from your previous orgasms, “I can’t come again.”

Her smile fades back to that familiar smirk. She glances at Art, nodding at the bed. Cock still standing at attention Art joins you both, lying on his back. Tashi’s hand winds its way in your hair, tugging you not so gently from your resting place. You follow her lead like a puppet on a string. 

“Don’t be ungrateful,” she accuses, pushing you towards Art’s lap, “This is a reward. You deserve this.”

Art’s cock pokes at the soft plush of your inner thighs as you straddle him. His hands move automatically towards your hips, rough thumbs brushing against you leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

He looks at you with wide, watery eyes, blonde hair a tousled mess.

“One more?” he asks, and you know at that moment if you tapped out, he’d respect it. Art was never one to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form. 

He rubs your hips again, a soothing motion, and you lean into his touch. Something deep inside you tightens with want. You need him. You need her. You inhale a shaky breath and lift your hips, lining the swollen head of his cock with your entrance. Sinking onto him slowly like this is something else. The way he stretches your insides as you come to rest against him is a feeling you’ll never get used to. 

“Good girl.”

Art’s head falls back against the pillows and then Tashi pulls them from underneath him. Her husband knows immediately what she’s after and tilts his head back as she climbs onto his face. 

Tashi sits on her husband’s face as though it’s her throne. As though he was made for her and no one else. 

She pulls you closer as you lazily begin to ride Art. Lips crashing against yours she kisses you passionately, rolling her hips at the pace you began. Soon you find your rhythm, moving in sync together as Art moans beneath you, happy to pleasure both his girls at once. Tashi’s hand finds your hair again and she tugs your head back, latching her lips against your neck.

She’s fond of leaving marks. Art is hers through their marriage, but she likes to remind you that you belong to her as well. 

Art bucks his hips up into you, the head of his cock nudging perfectly against your sweet spot, just as his fingers had moments before. A whine leaves your lips and Tashi laughs against your neck. 

“He’s good at that, yeah?” she murmurs, placing soft kisses up your neck and returning to your lips, “Good with his cock, good with his…his tongue.” Her eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy as Art does something you can only imagine.

He moans again, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he decides the pace you’ve set simply isn’t enough. Art’s hands dip below the curve of your ass right where it meets your thighs, lifting you with ease up and down on his cock. He meets you halfway, thrusting up into you as he slams you up and down. 

Your whines increase in volume, turning into elongated moans swallowed by Tashi’s kiss. You can feel her nipples pressing against your own and you reach out to caress them. Tashi gyrates her hips on Art’s face and his pace becomes more frantic as he plants both feet on the mattress fucking up into you harder, faster, deeper.

“I—” 

Words are lost to you as your mind goes fuzzy; that familiar pressure in your gut builds, a wave of pleasure cresting deep within you. Tashi’s mouth captures yours once more as she snakes a hand down your front, nimble fingers circling your clit giving you just what you need to reach your end. Again.

With that the rubber band in your belly snaps and you come with a startled cry, pleasured tears leaking from the corner of your eyes as you clench around Art’s thick cock. His hips falter only for a moment as he chases his own release, and soon you feel his cock twitch within your warm walls, his spend blooming inside of you.

Tashi smiles proudly as you and Art ride out your highs, the pair of you moaning, limbs jerking from the exertion. Everything’s a game to her. And she always wins. 

“Just like that,” she murmurs, hips still swirling around Art’s face, “Oh god I’m—” 

You watch as her thighs tense, her head dips and her eyes squeeze shut as her orgasm crashes over her at last. 

Carefully you ease Art’s softening cock from within you and lay between the both of them. Tashi on your left, Art on your right. You’re facing Tashi, watching as she comes down from her high, feeling Art’s chest press against your back.

It’s quiet for a moment, the soft sound of a kiss being pressed to your shoulder the only noise in the room. Art snakes a hand around your waist, fingers brushing the soft skin of your tummy. You giggle slightly at the ticklish sensation which causes him to bite down gently on your shoulder. Tashi simply watches, wetting her lips. 

“On the courts at five tomorrow,” she says, before standing, “I’ll run us a bath.”

Art sighs and you can’t help but agree with his subtle frustration. Back to business.

“Whatever you say, coach.”

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected 🩵

[stllmnstr]

every fragile thing

pairing: park sunghoon x f reader

genre: enemies to lovers, figure skating au, college/university au

word count: 12.3k

warnings: alcohol consumption, jealousy, non graphic descriptions/depictions of injuries, use of the american (usa) university system, a kiss or five

soundtrack: get him back! / brutal / jealousy, jealousy / good 4 u / the grudge / bad idea right? / drivers license - olivia rodrigo

After an ankle injury lands you in mandated physical therapy sessions instead of on the ice where you should be training for nationals, you're absolutely certain you must be the most frustrated, emotionally volatile figure skater on the planet. Park Sunghoon proves you wrong.

or,

every fragile thing has one of two choices: become stronger or shatter into a million pieces.

note: hi hello yes this is me on a new blog with the same name. I deleted my old one and wasn't sure if I planned on remaking/reposting but here we are! if you've read this before, then I hope you enjoy just as much this time around. and if you haven't, I hope you love figure skater sunghoon just as much as I do! happy reading ♡

Silence. One word, two syllables. A fairly straightforward term with a meaning that can be easily deduced from a quick scan of its Merriam-Webster definition. 

But unlike many words, silence is one that’s typically learned through experience. Through stilted moments, pregnant pauses, dreamlike moments in the dead of night while the world around you is at a standstill. 

In the moments just before the music starts, when it feels as if the audience around you is holding their breath. And you stand at the center of it all, blades of your tightly laced skates against ice, chest rising and falling in time with your heartbeat, mind spinning with possibility. In those moments, your long trained muscles take over, following the memory of countless repetitions as your body prepares to do what it knows best. 

There’s a question in that silence. One that’s asked with baited breath. 

Will I land this skill? Will I go home with a medal around my neck, cold weight a familiar comfort against my skin? Will this be my best performance yet? Will they love it? Love me?

That, as you’ve come to learn, is your favorite kind of silence. The kind that’s filled with endless possibility, with the promise of something beautiful or disastrous or some odd mix of the two to come. 

The feeling of freedom, of flying as blade cuts through ice, as your body defies gravity with every jump, every spin. 

But that is very much not the kind of silence that greets you where Dr. Min eyes you warily over the top of his pristine clipboard, a crease forming between his dark eyebrows. Frowning, he glances at the paper once more before returning his gaze to you. 

“You’re sure you’ve been resting? No weight on the fracture at all?”

It takes a good chunk of your willpower not to roll your eyes. Mostly because you’re lying through your teeth, but who’s keeping track? 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Gesturing to the thick black boot the lower part of your left leg and foot have been imprisoned in for the better part of a month, you add, “This thing’s still coming off in two weeks, right?”

Two weeks is pushing it, but you’ve done more with less. Two weeks puts you exactly three months out from regionals, which gives you exactly ninety-one days to pull together the most jaw dropping program you or the judges have ever seen. One that’s certain to land you on the podium and secure a spot at nationals. 

Once again, you thank your lucky stars for Coach Lee. She’s been with you since you were still struggling to lace your own skates, and there’s no one else you’d trust to have you ready for regionals in such a short time frame. No one else you’d bet your fate on like this. 

“That was our original time frame, yes…” Dr. Min trails off, avoiding your gaze in a way that has your stomach dropping unpleasantly. 

“And we’ll be sticking to it, I’m sure.” You hate the way the end of your phrase turns up like a question. 

Dr. Min sighs. “Look, ___, our original time frame was ambitious to begin with, and I hate to tell you this, but your ankle is not healing as well as we’d hoped. Fractures don’t heal overnight, and the best thing for you right now is rest.” 

The argument is already forming on your tongue. “But—”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not trying to ruin your life, ___. Truly. I’m saying this to you as the parent of an athlete and a former athlete myself. Pushing yourself now will only lead to reinjury in the future and will also very likely shorten your career. Your ankle needs to heal before you skate on it again. It needs to heal before you so much as put weight on it. And you need to let it heal completely.” The sincerity in his voice is hard to stomach when he says, “Believe me when I tell you that you’ll regret it for the rest of life if you don’t.”

And logically, you know he’s right. Know that this will be nothing but a minor setback if you allow it to run its course. If you follow his advice to rest and heal. But skating has never been something you’ve done with the logical parts of yourself. And Dr. Min doesn’t get it. You tell him as much. “You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do. Regionals are in less than four months, and—”

“I hear you. Believe me, I do. But this is your third year of university, which means you have another shot at nationals next year. If you push it and try to skate before you’re ready, you may very well lose that chance too.”

“So I’m supposed to do what? Sit around and do nothing until my ankle decides to cooperate?” Even voicing the possibility has you suppressing a grimace. 

But Dr. Min has different thoughts. “Yes. That is exactly what you need to do.”

You don’t avert your gaze. Neither does he. Finally, after a moment, he sighs. “My recommendation at this point is still rest, but—”

“But?” Your excitement is impossible to contain fully. 

Dr. Min levels you with a cautionary look over his clipboard. “But, if you’re going to do anything, our athletics department does also run a physical therapy program, which I think could be beneficial. It would help to retain flexibility, mobility, and agility in the areas of your leg that support your ankle. It could help get you back on the ice faster and maintain the leg strength you’ve built. There’s a group session that runs on Tuesday afternoons—”

“Yes,” you nod, not bothering to hear the end of his statement. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“I… okay.” As much as you want to hate him for it, Dr. Min has a point. And while you doubt physical therapy will be anywhere near as grueling as your usual workouts, it sounds a hell of a lot better than doing nothing. 

…

You’ve never liked hospitals. The odd juxtaposition of white, lifeless sterility and a culmination of some of life’s most painful moments has always left an unpleasant taste on your tongue. 

It’s one that has you double checking the address Dr. Min forwarded to you as you enter the oddly cheerful building that is apparently home to a renowned athletics physical therapy facility. Despite the medical purpose, there’s a distinct liveliness that envelops the space. 

The woman at reception informs you that this is indeed the right building and the session you’re attending has just begun in the room to your left. 

Pausing at the door, you’re struck with a sudden timidness. A physical therapy group for athletes will obviously be filled with, well, athletes. And although you can’t speak too harshly on that particular subsect of people, being one yourself, they can be intimidating. It must be the competitiveness, you think. The drive to push, succeed, win that gives off such a distinct aura.

Steeling yourself with one last breath, you remind yourself that’s why you’re here. To get back to that version of you that has everyone else feeling a little shier. That version of you that eats, breathes, and sleeps with ice skates laced on your feet and visions of the top of a podium driving your every decision. 

With determination straightening your brow, you push open the door. 

And immediately find yourself grateful for the mental preparation as three heads snap in your direction.  

Hitching your bag up an inch on your shoulder, you try not to melt under the sudden awkwardness. Thankfully, one of them is better at breaking ice than you.

“Hi,” the boy closest to you is the first to fill the silence. He’s all smiles where he gives you a friendly wave, moving a stray hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head as he tells you, “I’m Jungwon.”

You offer your name in return, trying on a smile to match his friendliness. You have a feeling it comes more naturally to him than it ever will to you, though. 

Regardless, he offers an equally cheerful, “Nice to meet you.” Glancing over to where the second boy is moving through a series of stretches, Jungwon makes eye contact, silently telling him he’s up next. 

Even mid-stretch, he acquiesces. “I’m Niki,” the second boy follows. 

“And I’m Jake.” The last boy doesn’t need any prompting from Jungwon. Nodding towards the walking boot that covers the bottom half of your left leg, he glances at a similar one that he wears on his own. “Looks like we’re twins. Tore up my achilles pretty bad in my last soccer match,” he explains. “What about you?”

“Fractured my ankle,” you return, a rueful smile dragging your lips up. “Figure skater.”

“Ah, man.” Jungwon winces. “That sucks.”

You shrug, forcing a nonchalance you don’t feel. “No worse than a busted achilles.” 

“That’s cool that you skate though,” Jake offers. “Kind of a funny coincidence, actually. There’s another—”

Whatever it is, he doesn’t get to finish the thought. At that moment, the door opens again, this time revealing a middle aged woman in a white physician’s coat. Her name tag reads Dr. Kim, and she introduces herself as such to you. 

“Looks like everyone’s here, including our new members.” She gives another cursory nod in your direction. “Welcome again.” Glancing around, the instructor pauses. “Oh, wait. Except for—”

“I’m here, I’m here.” For the second time in the span of a minute, the door behind you opens. You don’t miss the glance that passes between Niki and Jake. You turn to face the new arrival, but his back is to you as he sets his bag down and begins the process of switching his shoes. 

The way the new member enters with a dismissive wave of his hand and lack of proper greeting has you thinking tardiness is not an uncommon trait of his. Even from behind, you can feel the waves of arrogance he exudes. That seems to align more with your preconceived notions of athletes. 

Studying him for another second, a sinking feeling of dread begins to build in the pit of your stomach. Long, dark hair. Unnaturally graceful movements, even if all he’s doing is digging through his bag. Tall stature, broad shoulders, long legs. 

An athlete’s build through and through. Perfectly suited for the ice. 

“Great.” Despite the statement, Dr. Kim’s tone is flat. “Well, we were just getting started and introducing ourselves since we have someone new joining us today.”

“Hi,” he offers, still fixated on his bag, yet to offer as much as a glance in your direction. If anything, it only serves as a confirmation of his identity. “I’m—” You don’t even need to hear him say it. 

“Sunghoon?”

At that, he does finally look up. 

Gaze locking with yours, a moment of confusion is quickly replaced by a furrow in his brow, the slight downturn of his lips. He’s not thrilled to see you either. 

A beat passes. 

Two. 

Neither of you break eye contact. 

The silence extends to the point of discomfort for all four onlookers, each of them hesitant to break the tension that’s rising by the second. 

Finally, Dr. Kim takes a knife to the tension. “Do you two know each other?” 

Park Sunghoon. Renowned figure skater at your rival university. Someone with such a natural knack for carving lines through ice that whispers of prodigy have been shadowing his footsteps since the minute he put them on a rink. 

Someone with his head so far up his own ass you’re not sure how he can see half the time, much less keep his hair looking so perfect. 

Oh, you know him alright. 

“___?”

And it would seem he remembers you as well. 

It also answers Dr. Kim’s question well enough. 

“Ah, good.” It sounds like a question, like she’s hoping your acquaintance will be a positive thing instead of a disaster. You don’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. “The figure skating community is tight knit, I suppose.”

You suppress a scoff. That’s one word for it, you guess. 

You remember when it felt that way to you, too. Before tight knit became too small. Back before university, when it felt like it was you and Park Sunghoon against the world, instead of against each other. Back when the two of you didn’t skate for opposing teams but instead were members of the same club. A time when you took the ice together, skated as partners until he—

You force your thoughts to stop in their tracks. Your blood pressure has spiked enough in the last few days, and thinking back on long days spent with Park Sunghoon will only send it skyrocketing again. 

If anything, you’ll use this opportunity to practice perfecting your poker face for when you inevitably run into him at future competitions. 

And future competitions means you need a healed ankle, not a bruised ego. And certainly not an unpleasant trip down memory lane. 

Turning away from Sunghoon, you’re the first one to answer when Dr. Kim asks if you’re ready to get started. 

“Yes,” you tell her, determination written across your brow, in the set of your shoulders, and perhaps most noticeably, in the way you avoid Sunghoon’s wandering gaze for the next two hours. 

…

Without the rink, days are quick to meld into one another. It may be concerning, considering that you still have a set schedule of classes and homework to follow, but your life has revolved around training for so long that it’s hard to tell Mondays from Wednesdays without a set practice schedule. 

Thankfully, you do still make it back to the clinic at the right time on the right day, this time for another session with Dr. Kim and your fellow band of broken athletes. 

Including him. 

Aside from the glaringly obvious exception, you’re not as bothered at the thought of returning as you feared you might be. 

Jungwon, Niki, and Jake have proven themself pleasant enough company, and Dr. Kim seems to have built an understanding of how difficult it is to be forcibly removed from the sport you love. As such, she’s one of the least aggravating medical professionals you’ve spent time around. 

“Hey,” Niki greets when you arrive. “Did you have a good weekend?”

You shrug. “Good enough. Mostly just catching up on homework.” Setting your bag down and switching out your shoes, you join him on the mat, beginning the series of warm-up stretches Dr. Kim instructed you through last week. “What about you?”

“Not too bad. I got some good news from my doctor, actually.” He switches legs in his stretch, and you’re almost envious of his flexibility. He’s a dancer, and an exceedingly good one at that. One with an unfortunate knee injury at the moment. “My x-rays are looking a lot better. He thinks I might be able to start easing back into regular use by next month.” 

“That’s great,” you smile, even as a pang of jealousy stabs somewhere near your gut. “I’m really happy for you, Niki.” 

“A month still feels like forever, though, doesn’t it?” He sighs. “I can’t remember the last time I was out of the studio for this long.” 

Jungwon slides down onto the mat next to you, joining in on the stretch routine. “Consider yourself lucky, man. They told me at my last check-up that I probably won’t be able to do any jumping or kicks again for at least three months even though the fracture is already mostly healed.” He shakes his head. “No jumping or kicking,” he echoes, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You know, things that are super easy to avoid in taekwondo.”

“If it’s any consolation, I just got told that I’m gonna have to sit out of regionals this year. Which means I’ll have no way of qualifying for nationals.” You wonder how many times you’ll have to admit that particular reality to yourself before the sting starts to fade. 

“That sucks.” Jake agrees, coming down to the mat and occupying the spot next to Niki. “I’ll probably have to sit for this entire season, too. I love my team, but it’s so frustrating watching them play when I know I could be an asset on the field.”

“That’s true.” You’re struck by a sudden wave of sympathy. “At least skating is an individual sport, so the only person I have to disappoint is myself.” 

“Speaking of skating,” Jungwon sounds hesitant as he approaches the subject. “Do you and Sunghoon, uh…” he pauses for a moment in search of a neutral way of framing the unmistakable tension that surfaced the last time he saw the two of you together. “Do you two know each other?”

Grimacing internally, you suppose an explanation was bound to be solicited after your icy reunion. “We skate for rival universities.” Your gaze fixes on a spot on the ground. “And before college we used to, uh, we used to skate for the same club.”

The three boys share a glance. It’s hardly an explanation for the venom you said his name with but before they can press you further, the subject in question enters the room. 

Again, he takes his time setting his bag down, getting his things ready. This time, he also pulls out an obnoxiously big pair of headphones, secures them over his ears before he bothers to turn around. Despite the fact that all three boys offer him friendly smiles and waves, he returns the gesture only with a tight smile, making his way to the mat on the opposite side of the room before he begins his stretch routine.

It’s a message that rings loud and clear. A frown passes between Jake, Jungwon, and Niki. It’s obvious to you, then, that you’re the reason he chose to set himself up as far away as physically possible. 

So be it, you think, letting the slight roll right off of you. It’s not the first time he’s given you the cold shoulder for something he plays an equal part in, and you doubt it will be the last. 

Besides, it will only make your sessions pass by quicker, if the burden of avoiding gazes and minimizing interactions falls on his shoulders instead of yours.

With nothing but a shrug, you adjust slightly, ensuring that the only view he has of you is of your back. 

…

It’s a pattern that continues as physical therapy sessions start to become a regular routine in your week. Sunghoon, with his apparent disdain for anyone’s time but his own, is always the last to arrive. He also continues his habit of picking the spot in the room furthest away from you. 

Despite the fact that you’d like to chalk it up to his social ineptitude alone, that explanation doesn’t track. Although there’s still a certain aura of aloofness that follows where he goes, it’s too often that you see him smiling at a joke cracked by Jake or sharing easy conversations with Jungwon and Niki.  

Hell, he even interacts with Dr. Kim with a level of warmth you didn’t know was possible coming from him. If there’s any disdain in their conversations, he directs it all towards his right wrist. It’s why he’s here, you assume. Encased in a brace similar to the one you wear on your left ankle, his right forearm seems to be the reason for his attendance. 

It’s hard to not be envious. While a wrist injury is nothing to scoff at, it doesn’t necessarily keep you off the ice. Not in the same way a fractured ankle does. 

Refocusing your thoughts, you push the boy across the room firmly out of mind as Dr. Kim helps adjust you into the next stretch.

“How about now?” Dr. Kim pushes your spine a fraction of an inch further, pressure light but demanding. Before, this much flexibility would have been an easy request of your body, but lack of use has your muscles feeling tight. “Any tightness or pain?”

“No.” The bead of sweat on your brow begs to differ, as does the way the negation slipped through gritted teeth. 

But you’re frustrated. Annoyed at the progress you’ve lost, at the new limits of your body, at the way you feel like a stranger in your own skin. 

Across the room, you miss the flicker of annoyance that flits over Sunghoon’s features. Headphones on as always, you imagine you’re nothing more than a blip on his radar, a pesky intruder that’s easily ignored as long as he has his back to you. 

“Hm,” Dr. Kim muses. “You’ve retained more flexibility than I expected.” She offers you a smile. “That’s a good thing, a sign of a quick recovery.”

You suppress a grimace. It should be a good thing. You should be recovering quickly. If only you could get your stupid body to cooperate. 

Stealing another glance at the boy across the room, you can’t help the way a small burst of rage bubbles in your stomach. Prodigy. Why does he always get to be the anomaly, the exception to the rule? His injury is already less severe than yours, and he’s probably recovering quickly, too. Without even having to fake it.

Easing you out of the stretch, Dr. Kim jots down a quick note. “I’ll have Dr. Min run another x-ray at your next visit.” Nodding towards your ankle, she adds, “I think there’s a good chance that things are looking a lot better, and updated x-rays will help guide our next sessions.” She pauses for a minute. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself or get your hopes up, but I think we might be able to start putting some weight back on it soon. Start getting it stronger again.” 

You’re hesitant to let your excitement grow too much. But it would be a lie if you weren’t already counting the days until your next visit with Dr. Min in your head. “Thank you,” you tell her. “I’ll hope those x-rays come back looking good, then.”

“Me too,” she smiles. “I’ll see you next week, then. Hopefully with good news.”

You nod, returning her smile before heading to the door to gather your things. Jungwon catches you on your way out. 

“Hey, ___, hold on a sec.” When you turn back towards him, he tells you, “The rest of us are gonna grab lunch at a place nearby, if you want to join.”

Your uncertainty must write itself across your features, because he’s quick to add, “Don’t worry. Sunghoon won’t be there. He’s got a class right after this.”

Slightly embarrassed by the way he read you so easily, you nod. “Sure. Lunch sounds good.” Despite their friendliness with Sunghoon, you’ve come to like the three of them. And it’s been far too long since you broke up the monotony of class, homework, and medical appointments with something as simple as lunch with friends. 

And as long as he’s not there, you imagine it will be nothing but pleasant. 

It doesn’t take long for them to prove you wrong. 

Niki barely lets you get one bite in before he asks, “So, what exactly happened between you two?” Even without the name, the question is obvious. 

Still, after choking on the sip of water you’d been taking, you answer, “Who?”

Jake just gives you a look. 

You sigh. “Like I said, we used to skate for the same club. We, uh, never really got along, I guess.” Avoiding eye contact, you add, “And now we skate for rival schools. I suppose it’s only natural to not like each other.”

Niki doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, that sounds made up.”

Jungwon swallows his bite, parts his lips like he has something to say. Internally, you heave a sigh of relief. If any of the three of them spare you, you have a feeling it would be him. “I mean, it does seem like something else must have happened.”

Or not. 

“You don’t have to tell us,” he adds. “But it’s just… I mean, the two of you can’t even look at each other.”

Sighing, you suppose the circumstances do look odd from the outside. “There was… an incident. Back when we used to skate together.”

“What?” Jake asks. “Did he steal your skates right before a show or something?” 

“No, no.” You shake your head. “It happened on the ice, actually. During a program.”

“Wait,” Niki interrupts. “You said you used to skate together. Do you mean like, as partners?”

The guilt on your face says it all. 

“No way.” Jake says. 

Jungwon’s eyes grow bigger. “What did he do?”

“Yeah,” Niki turns to face you fully. “Wouldn’t being his partner be a good thing? At least on the ice, I mean. I know he can be a little insufferable, but isn’t he some sort of prodigy—”

“Prodigy, my ass.” You’re so sick of that goddamn word. “Wasn’t a prodigy when he dropped me in the middle of our program at junior nationals, was he?”

The way all three or their jaws drop in unison is almost worth the admission. 

But the thing is, he was. No accusatory fingers pointed in his direction after it happened. No one blamed prodigy Park Sunghoon for the mishap. 

No, it was decided fair and square by the jury of public opinion that the mistake was entirely your fault, your burden to bear. And it’s not like you were immune to the criticism. Whispers followed where you went. And you always, always managed to hear them. 

Maybe if you’d trained a little harder, completed the second rotation a little sooner, the skill would have gone off without a hitch, they mused. Hell, maybe if you’d stuck to your diet a little better, those last two pounds would have spelled the difference between a perfect landing and your ass on frozen ground, program music still crescendoing as onlookers watched with horrified fascination.

“Oh,” Jungwon grimaces. 

“That’s rough,” Niki agrees. 

And they don’t even know the worst of it. Don’t know that back then, at fifteen, you’d had a giant, soul crushing, earth shattering, massive crush on your skating partner. That you searched for his approval just as eagerly as you’d sought out your coach’s. 

That you’d squeezed in as many extra practice sessions as physically possible for five months leading up to the routine just to make sure you were as close to flawless as possible, just to make sure you were chosen to be his partner on the ice. 

That you giggled, giggled, when you saw the matching costumes the two of you would wear for the first time. 

That you followed where he went with long sighs and lovesick eyes. That you looked forward to the grueling hours you spent on the ice with him, turning perfection into something even greater. 

That your heart skipped a beat every time you ran through your program, every time he caught you with sure hands and a strong grip. 

That Park Sunghoon never made a mistake, never let you fall, not once. 

Not until a spotlight was spinning dreams into reality and you were already anticipating the secret smiles you’d share with matching gold medals around your necks. 

Not until it all shattered in a single moment. 

It was cold, as you laid there on the ice, sprawled out and unable to move from the sudden shock of it all. Luckily, you’d avoided any critical injuries. You had staggered off the ice with nothing but some bad bruising, the worst of it staining your ego and your heart. 

And after it all, no matter how many times you passed him on your way to the locker room, shared the ice with him, or searched for the gaze he pointedly avoided across the room, Park Sunghoon never uttered the two words that just might have made you forgive it all. 

Instead of an apology or even the decency of an explanation, you got a cold shoulder and a lost friendship you were too confused by to mourn. 

In the end, you’d decided to turn it all into a blessing in a very thorough disguise. From that moment onwards, all of your time on the ice was dedicated to you and you alone. Never would you let anything but the sheer strength of your own will, your own goals, motivate you to become better, faster, stronger. 

And you found that victory tasted even sweeter, when the full weight of it could rest on your shoulders alone. When no one could whisper behind their palms that the only reason you stood on the podium was a prodigy of a partner. 

So fine. Park Sunghoon didn’t owe you shit. Not an apology, an explanation, or even a second glance. 

And if he was a prodigy, an ice prince or whatever stupid title he’d earned alongside his medals, well, you’d just have to be even better.

But now, sitting across from new friends with a fractured ankle and a ruined shot at medalling this year, a quiet part of you admits for the first time that maybe, just maybe, part of that resolve is nothing but spite in disguise. Part of the anger you’ve clung to for so long isn’t directed at him, but at yourself. 

That it was embarrassing to fall in front of a crowd, yes, but it was also humiliating to know that he was hearing all those little comments about your inferiority too. To realize that his silence meant he probably agreed. That you were a liability of a partner, unequal in both skill and importance. That he could move on from the incident, from you, completely unscathed. 

That your little crush was entirely one-sided, just like the respect and admiration you’d once felt for him. 

You stare at the half-eaten lunch in front of you, appetite suddenly completely gone. 

“What a coincidence that the two of you ended up injured at the same time,” Jake muses. 

“And in the same physical therapy group.” Jungwon nods. 

“Yeah,” you echo hollowly. “What a coincidence.”

…

When Park Sunghoon speaks to you for the first time in five years, it’s completely by accident.

As the weeks have continued on, you’ve fallen into a perfect routine during your shared physical therapy sessions. A routine of avoidance, ignorance, and as much space between the two of you as physically possible. It’s become so easy that the two of you navigate it with the kind of grace only two elite figure skaters could ever manage. 

If anything, it’s more awkward for the other members of your session than it is for the two of you. Jungwon, Jake, Niki, and Dr. Kim are the ones suffering as they try to stay friendly with both of you without icing out the other. 

It must be why he doesn’t even bother to check who it is that’s standing right next to him as he reaches for his bag on the shelf near the front door at the end of another session. Must be why he says it in a voice so casual you don’t think it’s him at first. “How pissed do you think Dr. Kim will be if I’m late again next week?”

Even though the voice doesn’t quite fit, you half expect to see Jake standing next to you when you turn to the side. 

Sunghoon realizes his mistake at the exact same second you do. You watch as shock flickers across his features, quickly replaced by something guarded, unreadable. Just as completely closed off to you as always. 

It pisses you off, the way he’s so utterly and completely unaffected by you. The way he can brush you off as easily as a piece of dust. Insignificant. Unimportant. Unwanted. It has you freeing the reins on comments you should bite back instead. 

“Hard to say.” Ice and resentment drip from every syllable. “Then again, I’m surprised you care about what she thinks. Doesn’t seem like something that would bother you.”

That at least earns you some of his emotion. Another bout of shock crosses his face before it shifts to confusion and falls finally to anger. You can see it in the furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw. The flare of heat in his eyes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

If he falls to anger, you’ll rise above it. At least on the outside. There’s no accounting for the way your gut twists in rage. Still, you offer him a smile that’s almost as fake as it is sickeningly sweet. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out if you spend enough time thinking about it.” It’s patronizing, and intentionally so. You hope it annoys him enough to keep him up tonight. 

Reaching for the front door, you take your exit first. The hallways of this building have become familiar over the weeks. Even with anger clouding your vision and a bad ankle, you trace a steady path to the parking lot. You’re halfway to your car when the sound of your name stops you in your tracks. 

You freeze for a moment, turning the sound of it over in your brain, stuck on the way it almost sounds like a plea, a prayer coming from his lips. The sound of footsteps draws nearer. They fall quickly, as if he’s running. Your indecision still renders you immobile. 

“Hold on a second. Did I… Did I do something to upset you?”

If you thought you were angry before, you’re surely seeing red now. How dare he. 

Spinning around, you only hope you sound as outraged as you feel. “Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”

“What? No.” His brow furrows. “I mean, I know our schools are technically rivals and all, but we haven’t really seen each other in years.”

“Right, because you’ve been so sunny and welcoming since I joined the group.”

“I was giving you space. You practically bolted like a scared cat when you saw it was me.” He runs a hand through his hair. You hate the way it falls perfectly back into place. And you hate the way he looks so good doing it. “But clearly you’ve got something against me.”

The audacity, the sheer, utter audacity. There’s no trace of humor when you say, “You’re hilarious, really.” And there’s no room for debate when you turn away from him again, continuing to walk towards your car. 

“Wait,” he tries, but it falls on deaf ears. “God, ___, would you just hold on for a second, I—”

You turn. To do what, you’re not entirely sure. But before you can decide, the grip he has on his car keys loosens, the fingers of his right hand less dexterous than usual thanks to his arm brace. He still has his reflexes though. With his other hand, he manages to stop them from falling completely. 

“Better take care of that.” You jerk your chin to where he awkwardly fumbles with his keyring, trying to find a better grip. “Wouldn’t want to drop those too.”

His gaze snaps to you, eyes wide, mouth slightly slackened. The keys fall from his grasp, metal clinking delicately on the pavement. A million questions swim across his features, none of which you’ll give the grace of answering. 

Instead, you turn around once more. You make it all the way to your car, all the way out of the parking lot, all the way home. 

And he never says your name once. 

…

The following Tuesday, you are the last one of the group to arrive. And while you would usually never pass up the opportunity to best Sunghoon at anything, including being the latest arrival, competition is not the reason for your tardiness. 

It’s avoidance. That, and the fact that you had to spend eleven minutes giving yourself a pep talk in the car before you could work up the nerve to approach the front doors of the clinic. In the end, it’s a glance down at the boot on your left foot that does it. You’ve let Sunghoon ruin your chance at a gold medal once, and you’ll be damned if you let him do it again. 

Besides, your last visit with Dr. Min was a good one. Your ankle hasn’t healed quite as much as Dr. Kim suspected, but progress is progress, and you’re making plenty of it, according to your most recent x-rays. 

You enter the session with an apology for Dr. Kim and concentrated efforts to not let your gaze wander to the back corner of the room as you make your way over to where Jake and Jungwon sit. Starting your stretches, you assume Niki is over with Sunghoon, but you can’t work up the nerve to confirm that. 

Despite her initial annoyance at your tardiness, Dr. Kim is equally pleased at your latest x-ray results and gives you the green light to switch out the resistance bands you’ve been using for the next level up. Just as you’re reaching for the set of red bands on the shelf next to the treadmills, a set of obnoxiously smooth hands gets there first. 

Turning to Sunghoon with narrowed eyes, you grab the end of the band set he just snatched out from under you, eyes ablaze. 

The little fucker has the gall to roll his eyes. “What are you doing?”

You yank on the band. He doesn’t even flinch, grip steady. “I’m trying to follow Dr. Kim’s instructions,” you inform, tone flat. 

This time when you yank again, he yanks back. Much to your annoyance, he’s able to exert enough force to have you stumbling forward. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“And it’s working,” Niki whispers to Jake and Jungwon in the back corner of the room. Dr. Kim just shakes her head. 

“Just take the green bands,” Sunghoon suggests. 

“They don’t have enough resistance. I need these ones,” you argue. “Why don’t you take the green ones?”

“Pretty sure if one of us takes the lighter bands, it should be you.” Sunghoon tightens his grip. “Or are you seriously trying to claim that you’re stronger than me right now?”

“I’m using them for my legs, you absolute jackass. Which are definitely stronger than your forearms.”

Sunghoon cocks a brow. “Should we put money on it?”

“You are such a dick. Dr. Kim literally—”

“Has another set of red bands,” the woman in question interrupts. She levels the two of you with an exasperated look as she holds them out in front of her. “There’s another set of every color on the equipment shelf next to the door.”

“Oh, right,” you nod, pulling back a little on your end of the band before you release it, just to hear the small cry Sunghoon lets out when it snaps against the skin of his good wrist. “Thanks.”

And the satisfaction that comes from completing your usual number of reps with a higher resistance is almost as gratifying as when you see Sunghoon rubbing at the still reddened skin on his left wrist as you pack up to leave for the day. 

“Those two are gonna kill each other,” Jungwon tells Jake and Niki as the three of them walk to their cars, brow creasing in concern. 

“Or something,” Jake agrees. 

Niki hoists his bag up on his shoulder. “My money’s on ___.”

A contemplative look passes between Jake and Jungwon before they nod in unison, “Yeah.”

…

You’re in the middle of passing a medicine ball back and forth with Jake the following week when he asks, “Are your school’s finals next week too?”

And although it’s hard to believe, first semester is already drawing to an end as the days get shorter and assignments get longer. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m up to my ass in essays right now.”

“Same,” Jake agrees. “Sometimes it makes me wonder how I do it when I’m training, too.” Although you agree, a pang of jealousy is the only thing his words inspire. Of the skaters on your team that are preparing to compete as you speak. That have already choreographed their routines and selected their music and are spending every waking moment perfecting each and every detail of their program. 

It’s hard. It’s brutal. You’d be the first to admit that. But you miss it all the same, so much it hurts. 

A moment passes before he continues. “Well, anyway, Jungwon, Niki, and I were thinking that since none of us are training right now, we should celebrate the end of the semester like everyone else does.”

You arch a brow. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“Right, sorry,” he apologizes. “Consider this your formal invitation to get absolutely shitfaced with us next Friday.”

The laugh that bubbles in your throat is so unexpected you can’t quite bite it back. While you have your fair share of good, old-fashioned fun, he’s right. Every other semester, you’ve celebrated the end of finals season with a cup of hot tea and an early night in bed. Traded one source of stress for another as you woke up bright and early the next day to hit the ice. 

You send him a smile, tossing the medicine ball back in his direction. “Count me in.”

…

The following Friday night finds you double-checking the address on your phone before tentatively knocking on the front door of what you hope is Jake’s apartment. In the middle of the university district across the city from your own, you can’t say you’re familiar with any of the buildings outside of the athletic complex, which you’ve only ever visited for a handful of competitions. It strikes you then that this is also the university Sunghoon attends. And, stomach dropping, that you never actually asked who all would be attending tonight.

Before you have the chance to spin on your heel and high-tail it down the stairs you just climbed, the door swings open. It’s not Jake. 

“Oh,” you mumble. The boy who opened the door is not Jake, but he is very much attractive. “Sorry. I’m looking for Jake Sim’s apartment.” Your voice turns up at the end like a question. 

“You’re in the right place,” he smiles, and it’s gorgeous. “I’m Heeseung, Jake’s roommate. You must be ___.” He opens the door wider, allowing you space. “Come on in.”

“That’s me.” You offer him a grateful smile as you enter, hanging your coat and sliding your shoes off. 

The interior is surprisingly sophisticated, for a college boy’s apartment. It’s clean, for starters, and as you follow Heeseung down the hallway towards the kitchen, you can’t help but be impressed by their choice in decor. 

“Help yourself to anything.” Heeseung gestures to the impressive spread of snacks on the table. “But first, can I get you something to drink?”

“Um…” Your lack of alcohol-related knowledge is apparent, and the uncertainty must be obvious, because Heeseung just smiles again. 

“I’ve got you.” There’s an undertone of something in his words. Something playful, something bordering on flirty. But it’s too subtle to tell for sure, and you’re not one to bet on losing odds. He reaches for a glass and a handful of ice cubes. “Do you like fruity flavors?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “That sounds good.” Besides, it’s been a minute since you’ve been well and truly flirted with at a college party by a boy that looks like he could spell trouble in his sleep. This could be fun, you think.  

Glancing towards the adjacent living room, you notice the usual familiar faces. Jake and Niki are sitting on the couch while Jungwon chats with a pair of boys you don’t recognize. Eyes tracing the perimeter, you feel your shoulders tense when they land on a familiar silhouette. Sunghoon has his back to you, but his identity is just as unmistakable as it was on your first day of physical therapy. Like Jungwon, he’s talking to another person you don’t know. 

Oh, well. It’s too late to back out now and too early to make an exit. If you and Sunghoon can coexist in a room once a week without starting too many fires, you’re sure you’ll manage to get through tonight just fine. 

Heeseung hands you a full glass. It’s cold where it meets your fingertips. 

“Should we join them?” He inclines his head toward the living room and you nod. 

Following in his footsteps, you wave a quick greeting to Jake before taking a seat next to Heeseung, enough space between you and Sunghoon for you to relax slightly.

“How do you and Jake know each other?” You ask, searching for something to fill the silence, to keep the conversation flowing. “Do you play soccer together?”

Heeseung shakes his head. “No, we’ve been friends since elementary school. But I am on the basketball team, which helps. I feel like student athletes just kind of get each other, you know?”

You do know, and you tell him as much. The crazy schedule, the unwavering commitment. It’s much easier to explain to someone that’s living through the exact same thing. 

“Speaking of which, you’re a figure skater, right? For the university across town.”

You arch a brow. “I’m surprised Jake told you so much about you.”

“Not nearly enough,” he flirts, and this time it’s blatant. 

You take another sip of your drink with upturned lips, weighing a response on your tongue. Before you can decide how many cards you’d like to show, you make eye contact across the room with the one person you were hoping to avoid. 

Sunghoon looks equally—scratch that—even more displeased to see you. Jawline so taught you could cut your finger on it and lips drawn in a straight line, he’s pissed where he locks eyes with you from his seat. Sunghoon is the one to avert his eyes first. Throwing back whatever’s in his cup, he slices through the moment of tension with a knife. 

If Heeseung notices the way your breath splutters, he doesn’t comment. Thankfully, Jungwon chooses the next moment to say his hellos and introduce you to the boys you hadn’t recognized earlier. 

“Sunoo,” he nods towards the boy he’d been sitting with earlier, who offers a friendly greeting. “And that’s Jay, over by Sunghoon. And you’ve already met Heeseung.”

“And you all go to school here?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon nods. “Jay and I live together, and Sunoo is Niki’s roommate.”

“You’re deep in enemy territory,” Heeseung elbows you lightly, teasing. “What are we gonna do with you?”

You lift your now empty glass towards him, grinning. “Get me another drink, hopefully.”

Sending you a wink, he takes the glass from your outstretched hand before standing from the couch. “On it.” You watch his back retreat into the kitchen, oblivious of the second one that follows it a handful of moments later. 

Jay, as it turns out, is not an athlete, but does play guitar for a local  band your friend has been raving to you about for ages. He’s already promising you two sets of complimentary tickets to every one of their upcoming shows by the time you realize Heeseung’s been gone for a while. Too long. 

Excusing yourself, you head toward the kitchen. And it’s just your luck that you find the person you’ve spent the evening avoiding, instead of the one you’re searching for. Even with the buzz of your first drink fading rapidly, your inhibitions are feeling low. 

Sunghoon barely has the chance to register your presence before you’re laying out accusations. 

“I know you don’t like me, but do you really have to spend the whole night glaring at me like that? In front of everyone?”

Sunghoon’s shoulders tense, a confirmation that he hears you, but he says nothing. Instead, he just swallows the remainder of his drink in one large gulp. His eyes are still flaring, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you did something to piss him off. 

But it’s just like him, to avoid conversations he doesn’t want to have with the end of another drink. To treat you like someone not even worthy of a response. You don’t know why you expected anything different. Scoffing, you notice the full drink sitting on the counter. Heeseung must have had the chance to refill it before disappearing. 

You move to step around Sunghoon and reach for it when he finally says, “I’m not glaring at you.”

The gaze you level him with is incredulous. “Do you think I’m stupid? I have eyes—”

“For all I know you are stupid!” Sunghoon sighs, drags an open palm down the length of his face. “I mean, are you really gonna let some guy you just met pour your drinks all night?”

“Heeseung?” You’re confused why all of his rage seems to be directed towards something so insignificant. “He’s Jake’s roommate”

“And a complete stranger to you.”

It’s infuriating, the way he assumes his opinion should hold any weight in your life. The way he thinks he has any say in your decisions. “So should I avoid all the food now too?” You’re being petty now for the sake of it. “I mean, since you’ve been in here unsupervised for quite a while now.” You take another step towards your drink and he moves, blocking your path with his body. 

When you look up, you find his eyes already trained on you, and there’s no ice in them now. Just pure, unadulterated heat. Fire. Flames that lick the base of your spine. “You’re so fucking agitating, you know that?”

“I’m agitating?” You take another step forward, hoping the proximity will force him away. It doesn’t. If anything, he leans into it. Into you. 

You reach for the drink again. This time, he stops you himself. Fingers of his unrestricted hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Yeah.” His words are low, voice a caress even as it drips venom. You feel his breath ghost across your cheekbone. “Real fucking agitating.”

Your eyes are still locked on his, and you search them for a hint of something coherent, something that makes sense. Every bone in your body drawn taught, it’s as if muscle memory reverts you to the last moment you were like this, the last moment he held you this close, body entwined with his own in a familiar embrace. Your wrist slackens in his grasp. 

Last time, he dropped you. Sent you scattering across ice until the only thing you could taste was the bitterness of defeat and the sharp sting of humiliation. 

Last time, he let you fall. 

You have no idea what he’ll do now. 

In the end, it’s the sound of approaching footsteps that has the two of you springing apart, your wrist falling from his grip. In the scramble, you remember your original target. 

Despite the long melted ice, this drink feels even cooler in your grip, a stark contrast to the simmering heat just beneath your skin. 

When Heeseung enters, he’s tucking his phone into his pocket with an apologetic look. “Sorry, I had to take a call. My brother gets chatty at the worst times.” Nodding to your hand, he smiles, “You found your drink.” 

“Yeah, I did.” You take a step closer to the living room, closer to Heeseung. Further from Sunghoon. 

Glancing between the two of you, there’s a hint of uncertainty when Heeseung asks if you want to rejoin the others in the living room. 

You put his worries to ease and your questions to rest when you agree easily, not even bothering to give Sunghoon a second thought. 

You do seek his gaze one last time, though, before you follow Heeseung back to the party. Looking directly at him, you raise your glass in a mock toast. Without breaking eye contact, you bring the cup to your lips, swallowing half the drink in one long sip. When you do finally turn away, it’s to find the empty seat next to Heeseung. 

The rest of the evening passes in a pleasant blur, trading stories and laughs with the people around you while Heeseung keeps the seat at your side warm. Sunghoon does you the favor of disappearing from sight after your stand off in the kitchen.

It’s easy to relax into the company of everyone else, so much so that you don’t see Sunoo until you’re running right into him, the contents of his cup saturating the front of your shirt. 

It’s a problem Heeseung is quick to solve, and the gray hoodie he offers you is cozier than any of your own with a scent that’s almost addicting. 

He’s sweet, you think. Sweet and charming and forward in all of the right ways. It’s solidified when he offers to join you on the porch when you tell him you’re stepping outside for some fresh air. It’s cemented when he accepts your refusal with nothing but a smile and the request that you “come back quick.”

Stepping outside, it takes you a moment to realize that you’re not alone. It would appear that your earlier assumption that Sunghoon must have gone back to his place was wrong. There’s no drink in his hand, but the way he sways with the gentle midnight breeze makes you think he’s still working through everything he downed earlier. 

Silently, you glance up at the cloudless night sky, at the way the stars seem to wrap around you. Gaze returning to Sunghoon’s back, you suppose the simplest course of action would be to leave before he realizes you’re here. You turn to do just that, to make good on your promise to Heesung, when the sound of your name stops you in your tracks. 

Or at least, you think that’s what he says. It’s hard to tell, with the way his syllables and sounds slur together. Turning back towards him, you find him already looking at you. He repeats your name, and this time around, it’s a bit clearer. 

His eyes trace a downward line from your face to your change in clothes. Something in his face crumples, withers. 

“‘M sorry,” he slurs, words not lining up quite right through the inebriation. 

“What?”

“That day.” The sudden onset of sincerity in his tone makes him seem more sober than he is. “I should have caught you.”

The stars in the sky suddenly don’t seem so far away. You must have heard him wrong. A crease forms between your eyebrows, eyes scanning over his features. They’re laid open in their honesty, no trace of deception. 

“I wanted to catch you. I tried to.” He sighs. “Was my fault.”

“I…” You search for words, for the vindication you’d always imagined you’d feel at his admission. In its absence, you find only confusion and an odd pang of regret. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. 

“Sorry for what? Why are you bringing that up?”

He just shakes his head, eyes falling to his feet. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. Like a broken record. His pain is wrapped up in there too, trapped in a loop time has never quite let it escape. 

When you return to the party, it’s with a jumbled excuse of needing to check on a pet cat you don’t have. 

In the haste of it all, you forget to so much as exchange numbers with Heeseung. But you do find the time to pull Jake aside on your way out the door, to make sure that he helps Sunghoon get home safe. 

…

The next morning greets you with a pounding headache and an unfamiliar hoodie draped over the back of your desk chair. It takes a moment of searching through hazy memories before recollection of that particular string of events finds you. 

With a sigh, you head out in search of water and Advil, sending Jake a quick message that you’ll stop by his apartment later to return Heeseung’s hoodie. 

Even a handful of hours later, you can’t decide if you hope Heeseung is home or not. It’s a Saturday afternoon after a long night, so you figure the odds are high. But you still can’t pinpoint whether that feeling in your gut is excitement or dread. 

In an effort to delay the inevitable, you take a detour before visiting Jake’s apartment again. Your rival university’s sports complex is just as nice as you remember it, large, pristine buildings that hold everything an athletics department could dream of. Fondly, you remember the first time you skated in this stadium, back in middle school. It had felt so big, then, so special, to be skating for such a large crowd. 

It felt even more special to be sharing the ice with someone who put dreams in your head and butterflies in your stomach. Still fairly new to pair skating, the two of you had put on a program with a less than favorable amount of deduction. 

But still. It was yours. It was special. It was shared. 

You wonder if he knew then, that one day he would be the reigning king of this very same rink. 

Probably, you think. Park Sunghoon never had the habit of letting things feel impossible. 

Looking down at the boot on your foot, you miss it, all of it, all at once. The late nights. The early mornings. The bruises and cuts and aching muscles. The determination after defeat. The elation after glory. The feeling of flying every time blade touches ice. 

The sign posted next to the stadium is an advertisement, a reminder, of the upcoming regional championships. There’s a pang of loss, a moment of grief, for your program that will have to wait for next year. 

But your x-rays are coming back better every time, and Dr. Kim is sure you’ll be back on the ice by the time spring comes. 

For the first time in a long time, you think it’ll be okay. You know you’ll be okay.  

In front of you, the stadium door opens, and you realize you’re standing right in front of the exit. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, quickly moving to get out of the way, but then you take a closer look. “Coach Kang?” you ask, just as she says your name with the same air of disbelief. 

It’s an odd feeling of synchronicity, to stumble into your childhood skating coach just as you’re reminiscing on the past. 

“It’s been so long,” she beams, pulling you in for a warm hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Just visiting a friend. What about you?”

“Coaches’ meeting,” she explains. “Trying to see if I can get some of my junior skaters in to watch a few practices before regionals.” Nudging you with her shoulder, she adds, “speaking of which, how’s your program coming along? Are you getting excited?”

You shake your head. “I’m actually off the ice for this one.” Glancing down, you lift your booted foot in explanation. “Ankle fracture has me out for the rest of the season.”

“Oh, no.” Coach Kang places a consolatory hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. That has to be so hard.”

“It’s okay, actually.” You don’t know who’s more surprised, her at your admission, or you at the fact that you actually mean it. “Everything is healing up nicely, so I’m looking forward to an even better program next year.” 

“Well look at you, all grown up.” She smiles. “I can say that thirteen-year-old you would not have had such a good attitude about it. Honestly, I’m surprised a fracture was enough to stop you. You were always so stubborn about things. You and Sunghoon.” She lets out a short laugh as your shoulders tense at the mention of him. “I was just thinking about you two the other day, actually. We had a skater fracture his tailbone and argue until he was blue in the face that he still wanted to compete.” Shaking her head, she adds, “It reminded me of that time Sunghoon insisted on skating even though he’d just sprained his wrist.” She shakes her head again, releases a small laugh. “Never could keep you two off the ice.”

It all checks out, the stubbornness, the determination even when it was stupid. But you’re hung up on one detail. You’re sure you could list every one of Sunghoon’s skating injuries just as thoroughly as he could. But before the current one, you can’t recall any wrist injuries. “What? When did he sprain his wrist?” 

Coach Kang waves her hand flippantly, like the sinking feeling in your gut isn’t intensifying with every passing moment, like she isn’t about to confirm a realization you’re already dreading. “Oh, you remember. It was just a few days before nationals that one year.”

That one year. She skirts around it, for your sake probably. But you know exactly what she means, when she’s referring to. 

And suddenly, you’re falling through air again, plummeting towards ice as a hand makes a desperate attempt to catch you. As sheer will alone is no match for injury weakened bones and ligaments and muscles. As you’re sliding across frozen ground and he’s gripping his wrist with pain on his face and terror in his eyes. 

As your head spins, spots clouding your vision from the force of the impact. Before the world goes black, your eyes search for him. 

And in those last few moments of consciousness, you watch as his mouth moves to form words you can’t hear. 

“I’m sorry.”

…

Raising your fist, you pound at the door again. One, two, three times. At this rate, your knuckles will be bloody before you get a response. 

But before you can start your assault on the wood in front of you again, the door swings open slowly, revealing a familiar frame. 

“You absolute idiot.”

“Well hello to you too.” Rubbing at his eyes, you appear to have just woken him from a nap. If his head is feeling anything like yours was this morning, you almost feel sorry. 

But there are more pressing matters at hand. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“That I’m an idiot? Probably not.”

“That you sprained your wrist three days before nationals? That you skated anyway? That you attempted to catch a person quite literally spinning through the air with a wrist injury?”

A beat of silence passes. 

And then another. 

Sunghoon suddenly looks wide awake. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. What the hell were you thinking?” There’s fire in your eyes, an anger that’s directed towards him but not in the ways he’s used to. 

He pauses for a moment, eyes searching your features for another beat. Finally, he sighs. “Would you have let me skate if I did?”

It’s not the answer you expect. And it’s just like him, to answer a question with one of his own. “I… what?”

“You heard me.” His eyes don’t leave yours. “Would you have let me get on the ice if you knew I was hurt?”

And what is it, him and his habit of asking ridiculous questions like they don’t have obvious answers. “What kind of question is that? Of course not. No one in their right mind would have let you do that program with a wrist sprain, much less your partner. And I love Coach Kang, but I’m about to file a negligence suit against her, because what the hell kind of—”

“Stop talking.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” he grimaces, and you’re still getting used to the way apologies sound on his lips. “That came out wrong. What I was trying to say was that you… Well, I… I mean…” He trails off for the third time, casts a tentative look at the way your eyebrows only raise higher and higher every time he stops a train of thought in its tracks. His gaze falls down, somewhere between your nose and chin. An exhale passes through parted lips. Something in his resolve slips. “Oh, fuck it.”

And then he’s kissing you. 

Lips against lips and hands in your hair. It’s messy and awkward, and you can’t quite get the timing right. 

Sunghoon pulls back a fraction of an inch, catching his breath and letting you do the same. 

“What are you doing?”

There’s heat in his eyes and fondness too, a soft sort of expression that only melts further every time he looks at you. But now there’s anxiety in the mix, a crippling fear that he’s misjudged everything entirely, done something horribly wrong. 

“I’m sorry.” Before today, you could count his apologies on one hand. Now, you’re running out of fingers. “Did you not want—”

This time, it’s you that pulls him down, hands lacing around the nape of his neck, exhaling a soft sigh against parted lips that sends his mind spinning. 

And it’s only the second time, but it’s already better. Already a natural rhythm that the two of you seem to fall into with a little more grace. 

The expanse of his door is cold against your back when Sunghoon pulls you into his apartment with his good hand, and he’s a quick study. Attempt number three is an even greater improvement as hands search for new skin to discover and things start to fall into place, one at a time. 

Reaching for Heeseung’s forgotten hoodie, Sunghoon breaks the kiss only to toss it somewhere outside your current plane of existence. In this moment, you exist only within the space the two of you occupy, everything else an afterthought. 

And you have the feeling attempt number four will be your best yet. 

…

epilogue

“Are you ever gonna join me or do I just have to stay out here looking stupid forever?”

You don’t even take a moment to consider. “The second one.”

“Come on,” Sunghoon pleads, skating back towards you where you remain planted firmly to the bench on the perimeter of the rink. He moves towards you with a grace that used to inspire a raging, stomping green monster of envy. Now, you just admire the way he cuts across the ice with the agility of a dancer. “It’s fun out here, I promise.”

Avoiding his gaze, you let your eyes fall to your feet instead. They’re already laced up in your favorite pair of skates, black boot all but forgotten since you had it removed at your last visit to Dr. Min’s office. Since he gave you the green light to return to the thing you love most. 

You had been ecstatic then. Brimming with so much extra energy Sunghoon had to physically intervene to prevent you from accidentally knocking over an elderly lady on your way out of the hospital. But now, with the opportunity you’ve been dreaming of for long, hard months at your fingertips, something in you hesitates. 

Sunghoon says your name, and suddenly he’s serious. “This is all you’ve been talking about for months.” Sliding down onto his knees in front of you, you’re suddenly at eye level. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He casts a doubtful glance. “Really, I just…” It’s hard, to speak your fears into existence, to let them take flight. Even if the boy in front of you makes it a little easier. “What if it’s not what I imagined?”

It’s a million little worries wrapped up in one. What if your ankle isn’t the same? What if it’s never the same? What if you’re not as good as you were? What if you’re not good enough? 

Sunghoon hears them all, and puts them to rest with a smile, a gentle touch as he rests his forehead against yours. “You and that big brain. Always worrying about the wrong things.”

“Hey! I—”

“It won’t be what you imagined.” He draws back a few inches, and your eyes have nowhere to land but on his own. “It will be different. It will feel weird, and your legs will feel wobbly, your muscles will feel weak, and your ankle might give out.”

Your lips flatten into a thin line. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a terrible job.”

Sunghoon just pinches your cheeks together, forcing your lips to purse. “So you’ll show up. Over and over again. Every day until your skates start to feel like a second pair of feet and the ice starts to feel like home again. Until your ankle and your muscles and your stamina are all built back up, in a way that’s different from before but will feel familiar before you know it.” He presses a single, delicate kiss to the tip of your nose. “Until I’m dragging you off the ice instead of onto it, because your boyfriend needs attention and is feeling a little jealous of all the time you’re spending here instead of with him.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re so needy. It’s gross.”

Sunghoon only smiles. “Only for you.”

This time, when he gets back on his feet and extends a hand, you take it. You follow him onto the ice and headfirst towards your insecurities feeling a little bit like a newborn deer, a bike without its training wheels. 

He laughs when you stumble and brushes hair out of your face when you pout. 

After an hour, you’re already feeling more solid than before. After two, that feeling of flying is starting to return. 

It’s somewhere just before hour three when Sunghoon says, “Remember how I told you earlier that you’re worrying about the wrong things?”

“Yeah.” You drag the word out slowly, not liking the hint of deviousness in his sudden grin. 

“This is what I was talking about. Instead of worrying about getting back on the ice, you should be worrying about how long it will take you to be able to beat me on a lap around the rink.”

“You absolute asshole. I fractured my ankle!”

Already halfway around the rink, Sunghoon just laughs. 

…

outtake—five years ago. 

Sunghoon’s vision is blurry. It’s a terrible combination of things—the exhilaration of the spotlight, the pain in his wrist, the grief of an egregious error. The sudden onset of tears that sting in the corners of his eyes and fall without his permission. 

Despite all of it, he finds his way back to his dressing room. Choking back a sob, he reaches for the glass of water he’d left out earlier. It tastes acidic on his tongue, burns like regret on the way down. 

Stupid, he was so stupid. His hands tangle in his hair. He wants to pull it out. Wants to scream until his throat is raw and he can’t anymore. 

It was a terrible enough decision to gamble his own fate on an unhealed injury, but as the reality of the situation comes crashing down around him, he realizes he’s done something much worse. 

Eyes open, eyes closed. It doesn’t matter. All he can see is you, sprawled out on ice, limbs bent unnaturally, eyes dazed at the impact. 

The unexpected impact. Because you trusted him. You trusted him so much that of course you’d never considered what you would do if his hands failed, if his wrist gave out. If he decided to risk your program, your fate, you, all on a whim, on an inflated sense of self-importance and a lack of regard for the injury he was so certain he could power through. 

He couldn’t imagine it, three days ago. Telling you that he was injured, that he couldn’t skate the program. He couldn’t imagine watching as the features he bashfully considered so, painfully pretty twisted into disappointment. Into anger. 

So he turned his shame into resolve, into determination. One that allowed him to catch you with a fractured wrist in every practice run, every time, except for the time that mattered. Biting back grimaces and cries of pain all for the fool’s hope of seeing you smile in a few days’ time, a gold medal around your neck. 

Instead, he got to see you spinning through the air, slipping through his fingers, landing with a sickening thud. He wants to ask what hospital they took you to, wants to ignore the pain in his wrist a little longer and run there himself, just to make sure that you’re okay.

But then he imagines the way you’ll look at him when you see him. The way all that disappointment and anger he’d wanted to avoid so desperately will surely be all you have to offer him. 

He understands. He does. He wouldn’t want to see him either. 

Turning away from the mirror, he tucks away his shame for the future. But that only leaves his gaze landing on the bouquet of flowers sitting on the table. The one he’d spent nearly an hour agonizing over, the one his mother had assured him a dozen times you would love. The one he made sure had all of your favorite colors. 

He snuck his own favorite in there too, in hopes of what exactly he can’t be sure, but he knows he likes the way they look together—your favorite color and the deep blue irises that represent his own. 

It seems to stupid now. After everything, after this, he can’t imagine you want his flowers, and even less his favorite color. He can’t imagine that you want anything to do with him. 

So he doesn’t seek you out. Not in the hospital that day, not when you’re cleared to practice and back on the ice again, not when chance has the two of you colliding five years later. 

Not until he watches you walk away from him with all that anger and resentment and disappointment he’s been so avoiding for so long. Not until it strikes him in the face and he realizes that he can’t live with it, can’t let bygones be bygones and hope time and the absence of him in your life have healed you for the better when it still hurts to even look at you. 

On a dressing room table, five years in the past, a bouquet of flowers wilts. 

And Sunghoon learns that with love and patience and a little bit of sunlight, beautiful things, even the fragile ones, bloom when you water them.

.....

note: thank you for reading! as always, comments, reblogs, and asks are very much appreciated :D

[ros3ybabes]

🎀 Workout Youtubers

I currently do exclusively pilates and yoga workouts from youtube. However, I've done other body weight workouts with various youtube videos and seen results in the past. Here is my list of workout youtubers that you could check out! I will put a * next to my personal favorites! I will include a short list of my current at home workout equipment at the end as well as some items I plan on buying soon!

With any workout program or routine, always be safe, check with your doctor if necessary, and if something doesn't feel good or right, don't do it! No matter what your goals are, it's always important to be safe and stay healthy. Please always take care of yourselves and know how beautiful, worthy and valuable you are no matter what! I love you all <333

🩷 Pilates

Move with Nicole * (also posts occasionally barre and yoga videos as well! I love her videos so so much)

Madeleine Abeid

IsaWelly

Pilatesbodyraven

Lidia Mera

Lottie Murphy

Amanda Blauer

Margaret Elizabeth

Jessica Valant Pilates

Bailey Brown

Dansique Fitness

Flow with Mira

Sivi (she's began posting some pilates inspired workouts and to my knowledge is currently getting certified as an instructor)

🩷 Yoga

Yoga with Adriene *

Yoga with Bird

Boho Beuatiful Yoga

🩷 Bodyweight Fitness/Strength/HIIT

Chloe Ting * (I don't like the click bait, but I like the workouts)

Blogilates

Pamela Reif *

Madfit *

Lilly Sabri * (Some of her videos are titled with pilates, but the older ones I used to do were not pilates, so I categorized her here)

Emi Wong

Shirlyn Kim

Vivian Yuan

April Han

growingannanas

growwithjo * (I love her walking workouts)

Hinafit

Mish Choi

Sami Clarke

Elenifit

Coach Kel (she posts what looks like more barre, ballet, pilates inspored/fusion workouts it seems)

Caroline Girvan

TRAIN WITH GAINSBYBRAINS

Daisy Keech

🎀 Current At Home Workout Equipment I Own

Thick Yoga Mat - since I do mainly yoga and pilates my thick yoga may (amazon brand) has served me well. Even tho I am a heavier woman at the moment, I've never had pain or any issues with this mat, and it came with a carry strap which I love! A good, thick workout mat is definitely necessary for working out at home for comfort, safety, etc. Make sure to disinfect it on occasion, especially if you sweat on it a lot!

Resistance Bands - I have about 3 or 4 at different resistance strengths, and they're incredibly useful for a variety of movements, especially lower body ones. They add some extra resistance and make the workouts a bit more challenging when you need something more advanced. I also got mine from Amazon/Walmart a while back. I prefer fabric over rubber because I like to wear workout shorts instead of workout leggings.

Pilates Ball - not a necessity, but useful with some pilates workouts and movements. I have seen sole videos using this, but am not advanced enough to try it on my own yet. Will use for sure once I'm more advanced.

3lb dumbbells - I thought these would be useful for the pilates workouts that had some upper body focus, and as someone who wants to develop a lean and toned upper body, they are perfect for low weight high rep, controlled movements. Again, not advanced enough to use as I want to master my form, but they're gonna come in handy for sure!

Foam Roller - so so good for stretching and muscle recovery on rest days. I love mine but want one that has the bump things on it to help my muscles more. I can imagine how good it'll feel on my legs during a recovery day when I begin wieght lifting again.

Massage Gun - my holy grail for the days I am sore and needing some recovery. my body feels like jelly after using this, and it's just so nice for the days my muscles feel extra tight and super sore.

🎀 Equipment I Want To Buy

Yoga Blocks - these will help me get deeper into the yoga poses once I get more advanced in my practice

Pilates Ring - this honestly looks so fun and challenging to use, I'd love to add it to my collection of useful workout equipment!

Jump Rope - I used to love this as a form of cardio and as long as I don't move into an upstairs apartment, I'm definitely buying one

Pilates Bar - still iffy on this one, it's supposed to mimic a reformer but I want to get better at mat pilates and see if I even end up ever needing or seriously wanting to buy it, its on my list tho

Ankle/Wrist weights - these are gonna be so useful for workouts where hand held dumbbells aren't useful. Want to buy some low weight ones just to help with resistance and extra strength during pilates workouts

Kettlebell weight - I think this would be useful for a workout at home type situation if and when I switch to not doing just pilates and yoga. I know these are useful in their own right, but not needed in my current fitness stage of life.

Core Sliders - these look fun and interesting. They're on my lost for sure, but not sure about the practicality of their use in my life just yet.

That's all that's currently on my at home workout equipment list! As someone who primarily works out at home, the things I currently own are most useful and most of what's on this list is for fun or extra challenge. Just not necessary yet.

hope you enjoyed this list! if you have any questions about my favorite youtuber workout instructors or favorite videos, please feel free to ask, I've tried so many and can give some guidance from my own experience and research.

til next time lovelies 🩷

[reasonsforhope]

"Cody Two Bears, a member of the Sioux tribe in North Dakota, founded Indigenized Energy, a native-led energy company with a unique mission — installing solar farms for tribal nations in the United States.

This initiative arises from the historical reliance of Native Americans on the U.S. government for power, a paradigm that is gradually shifting.

The spark for Two Bears' vision ignited during the Standing Rock protests in 2016, where he witnessed the arrest of a fellow protester during efforts to prevent the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline on sacred tribal land.

Disturbed by the status quo, Two Bears decided to channel his activism into action and create tangible change.

His company, Indigenized Energy, addresses a critical issue faced by many reservations: poverty and lack of access to basic power.

Reservations are among the poorest communities in the country, and in some, like the Navajo Nation, many homes lack electricity.

Even in regions where the land has been exploited for coal and uranium, residents face obstacles to accessing power.

Renewable energy, specifically solar power, is a beacon of hope for tribes seeking to overcome these challenges.

Not only does it present an environmentally sustainable option, but it has become the most cost-effective form of energy globally, thanks in part to incentives like the Inflation Reduction Act of 2022.

Tribal nations can receive tax subsidies of up to 30% for solar and wind farms, along with grants for electrification, climate resiliency, and energy generation.

And Indigenized Energy is not focused solely on installing solar farms — it also emphasizes community empowerment through education and skill development.

In collaboration with organizations like Red Cloud Renewable, efforts are underway to train Indigenous tribal members for jobs in the renewable energy sector.

The program provides free training to individuals, with a focus on solar installation skills.

Graduates, ranging from late teens to late 50s, receive pre-apprenticeship certification, and the organization is planning to launch additional programs to support graduates with career services such as resume building and interview coaching...

The adoption of solar power by Native communities signifies progress toward sustainable development, cultural preservation, and economic self-determination, contributing to a more equitable and environmentally conscious future.

These initiatives are part of a broader movement toward "energy sovereignty," wherein tribes strive to have control over their own power sources.

This movement represents not only an economic opportunity and a source of jobs for these communities but also a means of reclaiming control over their land and resources, signifying a departure from historical exploitation and an embrace of sustainable practices deeply rooted in Indigenous cultures."

-via Good Good Good, December 10, 2023

[tlou-reid]

Baked Goodies ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner

♡ SUMMARY: aaron is smitten for his new graduate student neighbor as soon as he meets her.

♡ WARNINGS: male masturbation, allusions to smut but nothing fully written (part 2?), tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining & slowburn, mentions of drinking and alcohol, mentions of criminal minds-esque violence, age gap (mid 20s/mid 40s)

—♡

Aaron doesn’t think he’s ever blushed before now. The warmth on his cheeks was an unfamiliar feeling, as was the smile that was slowly making its way across his face. “Thank you,” He says with a voice that’s slightly lower than his usual tone. His hand reached out to grab the Tupperware container you were holding in yours. He tried to ignore the gentle shock that reached his fingertips as they made contact with yours. He also tried to ignore how soft the skin of your manicured hand was. It was probably a lotion, one with the same lavender scent radiating off your body.

“No need to thank me!” Your voice was so lively, so excitable. It was unlike anything he’d ever heard before. “If you ever need any more baked goods, I’m right across the street.” As you spoke, you lifted your arm to point at the house across the street from his.

You were his new neighbor. The house had been on sale for a few weeks and Aaron had been keeping his eye on it, seeing who the new family would be. He was hoping it would be a family that had a child similar to Jack’s age. He didn’t have any friends in the neighborhood, they all lived a few blocks over. Having someone Jack could bond with right across the street would make things easier for both him and his son. Especially when Aaron had to leave for days or weeks at a time due to his job.

But, selfishly, he was not disappointed it was you at all. You hadn’t disclosed if it was just you living in the house or not, but Aaron had already formed an imaginary life for you. It was just you and some pet living in the house, and he was going to be the protector. He’d check on you, you’d come to him when you need some manly job done at the house. And he hadn’t known you for more than five minutes yet.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a slight chuckle. “It was nice to meet you, Aaron!” You called to him as you stepped off his porch, heading to the next house to take your fresh-baked goods to. He closed the door, stepping in and taking a look at the container you’d dropped off. It had a mix of different treats, all homemade. There was a little note inside.

“Jack, I got food!” He yelled to his son as he made his way to the kitchen. He quickly sat it down, opened it, and took out the note before Jack could see it. “Hi! I’m Y/N, your new neighbor! I hope you enjoy these! (p.s. there’s no peanuts!) x” is what the note read. He smiled at the fact that you didn’t give off any real personal information, and even more at the fact that you worried about the allergies of the neighborhood. Not even people you knew. You were worried about the allergies of strangers. He felt his blush come back.

“What’s that?” Jack’s voice tore him away from his thoughts. “Someone moved into the house across the street, she baked some stuff and is giving it out,” Aaron explained. “For free?” Jack inquired, reaching for a chocolate chip cookie. Aaron laughed, “Yeah, she was introducing herself.” Jack nodded, biting into his cookie. “Wow!” He exclaimed, surprised at how good it tasted. Aaron laughed again, reaching for one of his own.

It was almost a week before Aaron saw you again. The team had been called in to work on a semi-local case that lasted four days. It wasn’t the worst thing Aaron had been through, but it’s never easy to come face-to-face with a serial killer. Then, he’d just become busy with paperwork and Jack’s after-school activities. Aaron had helped coach one of his soccer games, which wasn’t something he got to do often.

So now, late Sunday morning, he was finally making the walk across the street to your house. He had planned this since the moment you’d dropped the Tupperware container into his hand. He was going to return it just so he could see you again. 

He gently knocked on your door, loud enough you would hear it if you were around, but not loud enough to wake you up if you’d decided to sleep in today. He hadn’t seen enough to observe your routine. Not in a creepy way, just the way you notice when your neighbor’s car is in its driveway or if they do yardwork every Saturday evening. Come to think of it, he didn’t know any of his neighbor’s routines. He was never around enough to notice them.

When you opened the door, his attention left the surrounding houses and landed right on you. He had been looking around upon realizing how little he knew about the people in his neighborhood. You’d be the first one he’d get to know, he decided.

“Aaron!” You were basically beaming at him. He smiled and mumbled out a, “hello”. “How are you today?” You smiled, stepping out onto the porch to stand near him. “I’m good, I was just coming to return the container.” He explained, holding out the Tupperware. You reached out to take it from him, looking at his hands. You couldn’t help but notice the veins that ran along them.

“Oh! You didn’t have to,” You chuckled, moving your eyes up to look at his again. If you were being honest, you’d been surprised when he answered the door. Chatter about the older man from the neighbors you had given your baked goods to prior to arriving at his house had you ready to be nervous and intimidated.

Instead, you were undeniably attracted to him. When he had first opened the door after hearing your timid knocks, you couldn’t help but let your eyes scan his broad form. You didn’t think he had noticed, as he was too busy trying to figure out why someone was unexpectedly knocking at his door.

“Did you like them?” You asked with wide eyes. He could tell you were genuinely curious. “I did,” He smiled as he continued, “With the few that I had at least. My son loved them.”

“Your son?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking. Of course, an attractive man like him was married with kids. You weren’t sure why hadn’t assumed that before. “Yeah, Jack. He’s my son.” Aaron was awkward, not really knowing what you were asking. You recovered quickly, “Which ones were his favorite? I can make more!” Aaron smiled with a slight shake of his head, “He loved them all, you don’t have to worry about any of that.” You laughed, “I do! I love baking, it’s a nice way to pass time.” Aaron nodded along to your words, “I guess he liked the brownies the most, they were gone in a day.” You smiled, taking a mental note. 

“And your wife?” There was a hidden motive behind this question, one you hoped Aaron didn’t pick up on. You wanted, no, needed to know the details of this man’s life. You needed to know if you could keep up the fantasy you were creating of him. He let out an awkward laugh, “Uh, no,” he cleared his throat, “No wife. Just me and Jack.” You almost wanted to break out into a smile at his words, but you knew that would be inappropriate.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to like, pry, or anything.” The awkward tone of the conversation was beginning to make you uncomfortable. As much as you wanted to know, you didn’t want to blow your chances with him. “It’s okay,” he comforts you when it should definitely be the other way around, “Just a bit of a touchy subject.” You nodded in understanding. You two stood there in silence for a little bit, before Aaron stepped back. “I should get back,” He said, nodding towards his house.

“Yeah, yeah. It was good to see you again.” Aaron took note of the awkward smile and lack of eagerness in your voice. “You too, Y/N. See you around.” He stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked down the steps of your porch

He was just reaching the curb on his side of the street when he heard someone yell your name. You hadn’t retreated back into your house, instead opting to tidy up the furniture on your porch. He didn’t know you were waiting to make sure he had made it into the house safely. Aaron watched as the man who lived two houses down from you began to approach your porch.

“The cookies were delicious!” The man was still shouting as he walked over. Aaron couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. He watched as you giggled at his words, yelling back, “Thank you!” When the man approached you, he handed off the same kind of Tupperware container Aaron had given you. Aaron couldn’t help the jealousy that took over him as he realized this man and he had the same idea: returning the container just to see you again.

Once the man reached you and Aaron could no longer hear your conversation, he turned to continue walking back toward his home. He couldn’t help but notice how you giggled at this man’s words. Your conversation with him felt so natural, which was very different from the uncomfortable conversation you two had.

Aaron couldn’t help but feel insecure about this. Of course, you’d want to conversate with the younger, handsome, athletic guy who lived in the neighborhood. Why would you choose an older man who had a child and knees that creaked when he stood from his office chair? You wouldn’t. No one would.

Little did Aaron know, you had been watching him the entire time you were talking to the neighbor. You couldn’t help but check Aaron out as he walked away. His sweatpants hugged his hips deliciously and the athletic fit shirt showed off the muscles in his back. Aaron was hot and you couldn’t deny it.

The next time you saw Aaron was very unexpected. Your friend, Elise, had convinced you to volunteer at the local middle school, working the door for entry to the soccer game they were hosting on a Friday night. Part of her grad school program involved her working at this school, so you guys had signed up together. She was excited to see the students she had been working closely with.

 You, however, had completely forgotten you had a paper due for one of your graduate classes. So, she was up, selling tickets, conversating with parents, and wishing the students good luck, while you had your nose buried in your laptop. Textbooks and articles were spread across the table that was holding the register for the ticket money.

“Jack! You’re gonna do great!” You heard Elise encourage one of the students, not really paying attention anymore. It wasn’t until you heard a familiar voice that you looked up from your halfway-done paper. “He’s been practicing hard,” Aaron smiled, touselling the hair on the little boy’s head.

Your movement from behind your laptop caught his attention. “Hello, Y/N,” he said, not expecting to see you there. Jack and your friend both turned to face you, surprised that you and Aaron knew each other.

Aaron pushed Jack forward with a gentle hand on his back, “Buddy, do you remember the cookies and stuff our neighbor had dropped off?” Aaron asked him, ready to introduce you two. “You made them?” Jack asked, stepping closer to you. You nodded at him with a smile, “Yes! I live across the street from you!” You smiled at the young boy. You didn’t notice the eyebrow raise your friend gave you, knowing about the crush you had said you were growing on your older neighbor. She was connecting the dots.

“Do you work here?” Aaron asked as Jack ran into the stadium to join his team. You shook your head, pointing to Elise, “She does. She needed volunteers and asked me to work.” Aaron nodded. He let out a light laugh and pointed to your laptop, “Doesn’t seem like you're doing a lot of work.”

Your cheeks started to warm up in embarrassment, “I have a paper due that I completely forgot about.” Aaron was shocked to hear you discussing college. He thought you were older than that. “You’re in college?” He asked. You nodded again, “Grad school. I only have one more semester until I graduate.” You explained, and he relaxed. You were older than an undergraduate. 

He knew you were young, but he didn’t think he was being perverted by forming a small crush on you. Sure, some people may deem it inappropriate, but it is up to you in the end. If, by some miniscule chance, you harbored the same feelings he did, he wouldn’t feel weird about it, he didn’t think.

Aaron questioned what you were studying and you explained your major, your intended career, and how passionate you were about what you were doing. As your face lit up and your hands aided in your expressive explanation, it was as if Aaron could feel fondness growing in his chest. He began to feel warm, as if you were the sun shining on him.

 He hasn’t felt like this in a long time. The only feeling that could mirror what he was feeling now was when Jack got crowned MVP at his last soccer tournament. It’s the kind of pride that you feel when you know someone is going to go far. Aaron wanted to go with you.

Unfortunately, the buzzer interrupted his thoughts. He let out a breath, a small “Shit” escaping from his lips before he continued, “I gotta get to my seat.” He chucked, rushing away, “Good to see you.” He nodded at you and your friend before disappearing into the stadium.

“So that’s him? The hot next-door neighbor?” Elise squealed, with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “Elise! Stop!” You whisper-shouted at her, still weary of Aaron’s presence, “I have a paper to finish.” She laughed at the way you made your eyes big, emphasizing that she needed to drop the subject.

“Okay,” Elise breathed out after a while, relaxing in the seat next to you, “we’re done!” You nodded at her words, moving to save the file on your laptop. “What’s next?” You asked as you closed it, deciding to finish the paper later. “You hungry? The concession stand has fantastic pizza!” Even if you weren’t, the way she practically moaned about it had you wanting this pizza. “Sure,” you shrugged. You packed up your things as Elise dropped off the register where it needed to go, and then you guys headed into the stadium.

The line for the concession stand moved quickly. You couldn’t help but scan the stands for Aaron, wondering where he ended up sitting. When Elise proposed staying to see the end of the game, you agreed, solely because it would increase your chances of seeing him again.

And, you did. Not until the very end of the game, after the buzzer had sounded and Jack’s team ran to the sidelines, celebrating the win they had just claimed. The only way you found Aaron was through the cheers. He was the loudest one, the proudest parent sitting amongst the whole school. It brought a smile to your face to know how much he loved his son.

“Congratulations, kid!” Elise cheered for Jack as he approached the entrance to the field, by where you two were standing waiting to congratulate the team. Jack just smiled before turning back to his friends. “You guys did great!” You called from behind her. Aaron smiled at you as he reached where you and Elise were stood.

“So, will you guys be at more games?” He wasn’t going to invite you, as he felt that would be overstepping some invisible boundary he had made up in his head. But, if you were going to be around anyway he could at least offer to sit with you. “I definitely will be!” Elise cheered, turning to you. “I’ll see. You never know with school and work.” You shrugged, trying to mask the disappointment. You were not aware that Aaron was doing the same.

“Dad!” Jack shouts, running over to his father, “Can I sleep at Chris’ house tonight? The whole team is going!” You couldn’t help but notice how adorable he looked, and the fond look Aaron gave back to him. “Sure thing, buddy. Let’s just run home to get your stuff.” Aaron turned to bid a quick goodbye to you and Elise. To your surprise, he turned back to you. “Did you need a ride home?”

You stuttered at his words, “Uh, no, um, Elise-” “Yes, she does! I was her ride but my boyfriend just asked to meet somewhere!” Elise nudged you as she cut you off. She waved her phone to emphasize her point. “Thanks, Mr. Hotchner, you’re the best! Have fun at your sleepover, Jack!” Elise said as she stepped away from the group. Once you were the only one that could see her, she threw you a big smile and thumbs up, before taking off to your car.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that happened,” You gestured to your friend running off as you apologized. “No need to be sorry, I wouldn’t have offered if it bothered me. It’s not like you live far away.” You nodded and smiled at Aaron’s comforting words, thanking him again. “C’mon, the car’s this way.” You followed him and Jack, watching as Aaron congratulated Jack on the win and questioned him on the different strategies the team uses throughout.

Aaron opened the passenger door as Jack climbed his way into the back. Your jaw almost dropped as you realized he opened it for you. It was so casual. He didn’t even stop his conversation with Jack as he held it open for you. He laughed at something as you buckled your seat belt up.

 When he leaned over to check that you were comfortable in the seat, his eyes met yours. He gave you the softest smile you’d ever seen and you could feel butterflies take flight in your stomach. Your cheeks felt warm and you looked down at your hands, growing nervous under his gaze. You mumbled a soft “thank you” as he closed your door, walking around to the driver’s side.

Aaron noticed your nervousness this time. He could tell you were shocked at his actions. Initially, this made him sad as he realized that no man had ever shown you the care you deserved. However, that sadness quickly turned to excitement as he realized he could be the first. He wanted to show you how you deserved to be loved in so many ways, definitely more than just opening a door for you.

The drive to your homes was filled with laughter as you and Jack tried to sing the pop songs that were steadily playing on the radio. Jack kept stumbling over the words and you could not carry a tune to save your life. Aaron had matching butterflies to yours as you interacted with his son.

His car pulled into the driveway and Jack was inside the house faster than you could even open your door. You both laughed as Aaron made his way around the car to stand with you. “I can walk you across while he gets his things,” Aaron gestured to his house, indicating Jack might be a second inside.

“You don’t have to. Get him to his sleepover, he seems excited.” Aaron laughed, nodding along to your words. “Have a good night, Aaron.” He wished you the same and watched as you made your way to your house. His eyes didn’t leave your figure until you were safely inside.

Jack gathered his things for the sleepover very quickly. Aaron was almost certain he had forgotten something as they made their way back into the car. Once they were buckled and on their way, Jack shifted his body to face his dad.

“Dad?” He asked, getting his father’s attention. Aaron let out a gentle “hmm” of recognition. “Do you have a crush on our neighbor?” Aaron didn’t answer, reaching forward to turn up the radio, but the pink spreading across his dad’s cheeks was the only answer Jack needed.

Aaron was exhausted. Completely and totally exhausted. The case and been long and gut-wrenching. The only victory was the arrest of the unsub, as he had murdered all of his previous victims before the team could save them. Aaron was gone for two and a half weeks, and barely got any sleep while he was away.

“Thanks, JJ,” His voice was weak as he thanked her, reaching into the back of the SUV to get his go-bag. He had been too tired to drive himself. JJ had kindly offered after seeing the dark eye bags he was wearing. “Anytime, Hotch. Get some sleep.” He could only muster up a nod in return.

Aaron was turning the key in his lock when he heard your door. “Shit!” You yelped as the glass outer door slammed. He turned around with a chuckle, never too tired to see you. “Hello, Y/N!” He called as best he could with how tired he was.

He was suddenly wide awake when you faced him. He hoped you couldn’t see his eyes scan the entirety of your body, pausing at your very exposed thighs. You were in a loose, long-sleeved t-shirt that came down the end of your butt. The shorts you were wearing with it were incredibly short, barely covered by the shirt. Even with the distance between your houses, he could tell you weren’t wearing a bra.

He wanted to blame the way his dick was hardening on how tired he was, and definitely not the dirty thoughts he was having about you right now. He could imagine the way his rough hands would trace the skin across your thighs as he pulled you into his lap, preparing to devour you. His fantasies did not slow as you yelled back to him, very excitedly, “Aaron! Where have you been?”

He shook his head, attempting to clear it so he could have a normal conversation with you. His heart fluttered at the fact that you’d noticed his disappearance. “I was away for work,” he informed, “for far too long.” You erupted into a smile, walking off your porch, “Well, the neighborhood missed you!” He knew you were lying. No one in this neighborhood knew him. They didn’t care if he was gone or not.

But, being a profiler had its perks. He knew the hidden meaning in your words. You missed him. His brain was tired and his heart was beating a million times a minute. That must’ve been why his mouth was moving before he could stop it, “I missed you too.” The words rolled off of his tongue, no thought behind them. No thoughts, but definitely feelings.

You hoped Aaron couldn’t see the way your eyes lit up at his words. You could feel the heat growing in your cheeks as you continued to make your way to your little garden. That’s why you were out here, to get your front yard set up for Halloween decorations. “Get some rest, Aaron. Welcome home.

Even with you raising your voice, he could hear the softness behind it. You sounded so fond. This is how he wanted to be welcomed home after every case, with your sweet voice and gentle demeanor. “Have a nice night!” He called to you, before stepping through his front door.

He dropped his stuff by the door and reached up to loosen his tie. He kicked his shoes off and then moved to undo his belt. Leaving both the tie and the belt on the arm of the couch, he made his way right to the master bathroom. He had texted Jessica to let her know he would pick Jack up in the morning during the drive home, too tired to make the drive to her house.

Aaron had forgotten about his half-hard dick, too encompassed by your presence outside. He ignored it, stripping down and climbing into the hot shower. He hadn’t realized how tense his muscles were until the hot water ran down them, relaxing his whole body. As he loosened up, his mind drifted back to you. As he imagined holding onto your thighs as he fucked into you from behind. He could clearly make out the curve of your ass.

He felt as if he wasn’t controlling himself as his hands moved to his now fully hard dick. He didn’t mean to jerk himself off to dirty thoughts of you, his brand new, younger neighbor, but you looked so fucking sexy. His hand wrapped around his cock tighter as he remembered the outline of your tits that he could make out from across the street.

He could feel himself getting closer and closer to release as he tried to imagine the noises you would make for him. All the times you said his name replayed in his name and he tried to imagine you moaning it, whining it, grunting it, screaming it. He could’ve sworn he could smell your lavender perfume as he came. He opened his eyes as he finished stroking himself through his orgasm. He watched as the water washed away the cum that had landed on his hand and stomach.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, frustrated with the hold you had on him. Now that he got that out of his system, he couldn’t believe he just came to the thought of you.

 He had been having doubts earlier, wondering how inappropriate, how immoral, how wrong his growing crush was. Being a senior in graduate school, you had to be late 20s, maybe early 30s at the most. Being mid-40s, there was at least a 15-year age gap between the two of you.

He had to shake these thoughts. He quickly lathered himself up, rinsed off, and got out of the shower. He slipped on a pair of boxers and climbed into his bed. He was asleep in less than five minutes.

The next morning, he was woken up by knocks on his door. He had slept for about 11 hours, so he wasn’t mad that his slumber was interrupted. “Coming!” He yelled, shuffling for pants to throw on. Once he got a pair of plaid pajama pants on, he made his way down the hall to the front door.

He didn’t have time to register who it was before he heard your voice, “I’m so sorry to wake you up! I know it’s early but my car won’t start and I have an exam at one and I really need to be on time so I was wondering if maybe you could come look at it?”

Your mouth was moving faster than your brain could keep up with, obviously feeling bad about the whole situation. “Slow down,” Aaron breathed out, trying to get you to relax. His efforts failed as you ran your hand along your hairline and mumbled an “’m sorry”. “I can come, give me just a minute.” He stepped back, opening the door further for you to step inside to wait.

Your eyes widened at his silent invitation. You followed him through the door, awkwardly standing by the front door. You could tell from your spot in the entryway that the layout of his house mirrored yours. He was currently on his way down the hall to the master bedroom. To get a shirt, you presumed.

You definitely noticed the lack of clothing on his part. It was clear you’d disturbed him, and while you felt bad about that, you were ridiculously grateful. His morning voice, low-rise pajama pants, and hairy chest will be pressed into your memory, ready to be used when you needed some help finishing yourself off.

He appeared again quickly, fully clothed with socks and slides on his feet. He opened the front door, gesturing for you to go through. He followed you across the street to your driveway, where your very old sedan sat. “Can I have the key?” You nodded, retrieving the key from your pocket and pressing it into Aaron’s large hand.

As Aaron went to start the car, it was hard for him not to realize that this was the dream life he had conjured up for you when you first showed up on his porch. Here he was, being the manly man, helping you with your car. He tried turning it on and the sound of the engine sputtering made you want to cry. Without words, Aaron walked around to pop the hood, analyzing what was going on. He was quiet as he looked, and you wouldn’t dare interrupt it. “I think it’s the spark plugs. I have the stuff in my garage.” He said after a few minutes.

You nodded along to his words, trying to convince him that you knew exactly what he was talking about. As he began to make his way back across the street, you couldn’t help yourself from apologizing again. “Thank you, Aaron. I’m really sorry.” He was quick to turn back around to face you. With a hefty shake of his head, he spoke, “Please stop apologizing, this is what I’m here for.” He smiled at you, before returning to his journey to the garage.

If you were growing a crush on him before, it was full-fledged now. You needed to do something about this before your heart exploded at his actions and you soaked through your underwear at his words.

He returned after a few minutes, carrying a toolbox. You couldn’t do anything but stare as he worked on the car. He didn’t say much, focused on doing this right for you. Every once in a while he would attempt to explain what he was doing, but you were too distracted by the way the muscles in his arm contorted as he worked.

“That should do it,” He said as he made his way back into the driver’s seat. Sure enough, after a few turns of the key, the car sputtered to life. “Oh my god, thank you!” You spoke as he stepped up from the seat, throwing your arms around his neck. “You’re a lifesaver!” You squealed. Aaron’s hands awkwardly found their way around your waist, surprised at the sudden contact. Surprised, but very intrigued.

When you pulled away, Aaron felt cold. “Not a problem, Y/N.” He said as he wiped the grim off of his hands. “Why don’t you give me your number so next time you don’t have to walk all the way over?” The way he asked was so casual. He was so calm as your heartbeat increased with every word. Your number? Next time?

“Yeah! Sure!” You were afraid your voice sounded too excited, blowing your cover. Aaron picked up on it but didn’t mention it. You two quickly exchanged numbers, and he excused himself, stating he needed to pick up Jack. “Seriously, Aaron. Thank you.” You emphasized, grabbing his hand and pulling him forward. You were being bold. You pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. He turned away before you could see the pink blush spread across his cheeks. “Anytime.” He said, starting to walk away.

You spent the next couple of hours cramming for your exam and trying to repress any thoughts of Aaron Hotchner that your brain was attempting to conjure up. It was working, your focus on passing this exam. However, on your drive to campus, your phone dinged. Your car showed you a message from ‘Aaron (neighbor)’. You were giddy the rest of the way, not wanting to open while you were driving.

When you parked, you opened your phone to a simple text: “Good luck on your exam! You got this.” You walked into class with a smile, and you were pretty sure you aced the exam. 

You were surprised at the amount of time you and Aaron spent texting. It was definitely an assumption you had made based solely on his age, but you did not expect him to want to text. However, he appeared to be better than men your age at it. Quick replies, letting you know when he’d be unavailable, and absolutely never leaving on you read. Sometimes you had to explain emojis or slang to him, but you found it adorable.

You had learned that he works for the FBI in a unit that catches things like serial killers, rapists, and kidnappers. He was away on a case right now, somewhere in California. He had learned that you had a very old dog, but other than that, it was just you in the house.

There were times when the conversation felt a bit flirty. Teasing jokes thrown around, compliments to each other. Part of you was starting to think he may reciprocate your feelings, but the other part was starting to think you were delusional. There was no way he could ever like you back.

Until he did.

Elise and a few of your other friends had dragged to a bar downtown. One you had never been to. Like normal, you and Aaron were in the middle of a text conversation while you were sitting at the bar. You had been up and dancing, having fun with your friends, but you couldn’t stay away from your phone long enough to enjoy your time.

Elise was picking up on this. After a few rounds of shots, she was getting aggravated. She couldn’t comprehend how you were managing an intelligent conversation with him, but she knew she had to get you away from it. She kept telling herself it was for your own good, not wanting to feel guilty about the atrocities she was about to commit.

However, it was going to be so much worse than either of you had anticipated.

Elise slithered her way in between you and the person sitting on the barstool next to you. The older lady on your right was definitely agitated with her actions, but Elise did not care. She saw the white screen of your text messages and long contact name and knew who you were texting. Even in her drunken state, she could recall all of the screenshots you had been sending her from your conversations with Aaron.

“Give it here,” Elise slurred, reaching for your phone. It was still unlocked as she held it in her tight grasp. “You’re texting your hot middle-aged neighbor. Come shake some ass with us and find a guy your own age.” Her words were a little bit harsher than she intended. “Elise, stop. I’m enjoying texting my hot middle-aged neighbor and do not want to find a guy my own age” You demanded with your own drunken slur, reaching for the phone. “Uh-uh,” Elise shook her head, locking the phone and tucking into the cup of her bra, out of your reach for the rest of your night.

Only because you were forced to, you eventually did get up and dance with your friends. Just your friends, no men at all.

Elise only returned your phone at the very end of the night, when you needed to order an Uber home. Your head was starting to spin from all the alcohol, so that was all you did. After the order was placed, you gripped your phone as a way to keep the world from twirling underneath. The Uber arrived, too slow for your liking, and you were home. You immediately made your way towards the couch, ready to pass out.

The loud knocks on your door did nothing to help the pounding headache you had woken up with, and you couldn’t imagine who was knocking. The knocks were powerful and authoritarian. “Hello?” You questioned as you threw open the door. There was clearly attitude behind your greeting. “What did that mean?” Aaron’s voice sounded rushed as he pushed himself inside the door. He was dressed in a suit and acting very different than the Aaron you had known before.

“The message, the last one you sent.” He seemed stressed, running his hand through his hair. Something about the way he looked made him look exhausted. Your eyebrows furrowed, not understanding what he meant. You grabbed your phone from the end table next to your couch and opened your and Aaron’s message thread. Your eyes widened at the voice message marked as “read: 1:32 AM”.

“I-I don’t know,” you stuttered out, afraid to meet his eye, “What did it say?” Aaron took a step away from you. “It was Ms. Landon, uh, your friend from the game,” He sounded nervous as he spoke, “You should just listen to it.” You nodded, checking the volume on your phone and then listening to the message

It was right after Elise had grabbed your phone when she was berating you for being on your phone the whole time. When she mentioned your hot middle-aged neighbor and you replied, also calling him your hot middle-aged neighbor. And saying you did not want to find a guy your age because of him.

“Aaron, I am so sorry-” You started, wanting to apologize for your and your friend’s actions and blame the whole thing on being intoxicated, but he cut you off. “Forgive me for barging in here like this, Y/N, but I need to know why you were ignoring your friends to text me.” He finally locked eyes with you, and the eye bags under his eyes were the first thing you noticed.

There was a beat of silence, until he continued, “Y/N, I have enjoyed the sparse moments we have shared together. And I may be reading this wrong, I may just be incredibly sleep-deprived, but I think you have as well. I understand that I am older than you, but I would like to continue to have these moments with you. I would like to see what else we can do together.” 

Your heart started to beat at his confession. You nodded at his words, rendered speechless for the first time in your life. You couldn’t stop yourself as your legs moved forward, reaching for his face and pulling him into a kiss.

There was very little hesitation as Aaron’s hands slipped around your waist, pulling you closer. You didn’t know he’d been waiting to do this since you met, but you were going to find out soon. His hands gripped you tighter as he deepened the kiss, moving his tongue into your mouth. He was very skillful in the way he held you and the way he kissed you.

You didn’t separate until you needed air. If it wasn’t for the fact that you needed air to live, you could’ve stayed wrapped up with him forever. Your forehead was pressed to his as you whispered, “Are we gonna talk about this?” He knew that you were talking about where you were supposed to go from here. Is it gonna be a relationship? Are you going to be exclusive? How would it work with him being away so much? What would your role in Jack’s life be?

Aaron decided all of these questions would remain unanswered as he said, “Later, we got things to do right now..” He pulled you tight against him, roughly pressing his lips to yours again.

[pbnbucks]

you should do a smut based off of coach p…😛maybe like her gf wanna learn basketball and she teaches her and gets handsy

word count : 1.1k

warnings : smut, mention of pregnancy.

summary : you see paige teaching the little kids at her camp, makes you horny so you fake want to learn basketball just so she can touch you and then bam she fucks you on the middle of HER court.

you sat in the bleachers rewatching clips of her 5th basketball camp teaching the children drills and tips on how to get better.

guiding the kids on how to keep their body healthy and keep their muscles strong.

the connections and love she had for the young kids made you want one of your very own.

your legs shut tightly together feeling your wetness as you where by yourself in the empty gym waiting for paige to exit the locker room.

“paigey” you called out begging for her attention as the slowly exits the door you go up to her jumping in to her warm presence.

“you want to teach me baby?” she shutters her eyebrows together confused at your short sentence since you never had a desire for the sport.

“why now, i have been begging for months princess?” you hide your face in her shoulder as she sets you down trying not to expose your twisted plan.

“you were just really cute cute with those kids today ma” you retort teasing her as your playing with your finger tips avoiding contact already feeling the heat radiating off of her.

“no you just want to be fucked” leaning into your neck feeling her breath run don’t your now hot and sweaty skin.

“i promise i just want to learn” you coo as she rest her hands on the lower bottom of your butt caressing and palming the area. you sneak out of her arms getting the first basketball you so laying around tossing it to her.

“come here” she remarks making you follow the sound of her voice leading you to the free throw line as she places the orange ball in your grasp placing your hands in the right spot.

“okay keep the ball above your head and shoot” her voice echoing through the gymnasium making your nervous while she watches the ball intensely as your shot misses hitting off the top of the backboard.

“mama your close but this time let it guide out of your hands don’t throw it” she presses your back against her stomach as your hands lay on your curved hips as her warm breath runs down your neck forming goosebumps on your melanin skin.

her words running through your head trying to perfect your shot as the ball finds its way above your head again you shoot it as you watch the ball slowly fall from the air hearing the swift noise of the net as you watch it fall out of the hoop fitting perfectly through making you turn around in excitement to hug the blonde.

“good job” your soft hands run up paiges stomach hiding under her shirt playing with the band of her bra sending shivers down the blonde’s spine.

“if you wanted me to fuck you so bad, all you needed to do was ask” she grits through her teeth tightening her grip on your waist feeling the loss of circulation come back as she removes her hands only to bring them to your shirt removing it for you along with your tiny jean shorts.

“such a fucking slut” she groans lifting you into her arms getting onto her knees placing you on the cold gym floor as your left in your laced thong and bra as she licks a long stripe with her tongue starting from your lower stomach heading up to your collarbone when she swiftly pulls away.

“keep your pussy warm for me, ill be right back” she spats heading out the gym doors going to retrieve the silicone strap from the car heading back on to her feet leaving you by yourself praying nobody walked in on you.

your fingers play with the band of your panties slipping under to form circles on your clit not giving you the same sensation paige does with her skilled hands.

your fingers diving into your dripping core as soft crys fall from your mouth at the little amount of pleasure when you finally hear the gym doors open back up to see paige strutting towards your naked body.

paige releasing the strap when she pulls down her sweats pulling your thong to the side sending shivers down your spine when your slick hits the cold air.

she wastes no time to thrust into your deep core as her hands moves the hair at of your face before grabbing a fist full of your hair forcing you to look at paiges assault on you core.

“look at how i fill you up perfectly baby, always taking what i give you” she coos as the image of her taking you on her court clouds her mind turning her on by the second.

“make me feel so good mommy” you cry out as she lets go of your hair as you fall back on to the court as your breast move with each thrust.

paige takes the initiative as her hand cups your breast as she takes the other is her mouth swirling her tongue over your hardened nipple.

“want your baby so bad” you blurt out fucking yourself back onto the strap as your hands roam all over paiges abs running down from her chest to her lower stomach.

“you want mommy’s baby huh? is that what this was about?” she lets her cocky smile shine through as she grabs your wrist putting them both in one hand as she pins them above your head.

“yes please, want it so bad” her hips pressing against yours as she brings her other hand to circle your clit making your legs tighten around her waist.

“you will look so fucking sexy pregnant with my baby pretty” her moans coming in to sync with yours as the strap hits her clit at the perfect angle making her speed up her movements

“yes” you sob unable to say anything else as your eyes roll in to the back of your head at the gut wrenching pleasure while your hands squirm in her firm hold as she squeezes them tight causing your movements to fault.

“your going to have to beg ma, tell me how bad you need to cum” she teases as her thumb playfully slips into your core only to be pulled right back out bringing her thumb to your mouth for you to suck dry.

“need to cum- so fucking bad” you sob feeling the knot ready to break any second knowing she has full control of your body and you will do anything she says.

“go on baby cum with me. wanna see your face pretty” you say maintaining eye contact with her as both your liquids spill out on each other feeling your combined release run down your thighs.

you lay there all fucked out as she takes a picture of you quickly to remember the intimate moment before she helps you get up helping you gather all your clothes.

“don’t worry princess, ill give you my baby real soon promise.” she says pulling your waist into hers pressing a kiss behind your ear.

[uglygirltrying]

May i request Soap and Reader dry humping eachother when LT ghost walks in??🥺🥺

[yes i saw the post and ITS A NEED, only if u wanna ofc <3]

Yes ofc! :))

I'll make an assumption and just continue from that thought :P umm i didn't want to give the reader a callsign im sorry if that makes this bad😭🙏

ghost didn't sleep well most nights. most nights were made of pacing around, or zoning out by the common room's television. and that was his plan that night as well.

he thought that it would be peaceful like any other night, and maybe even more so, if his two sergeants had got worn out from their ride.

but as he made his way down the hallway from his room, and got closer to the common room, strange noises hit his ear.

now, with hesitance, but also curiosity, ghost slowly walked to the end of the hallway.

and he certainly wasn't expecting the scene in the common room.

his two sergeants. his two soldiers, rutting against each other, on the common room's couch. the lieutenant had to hold back a chuckle at the sight, the pair were going at it like desperate animals.

unsurprisingly, soap was making noise like a whiny puppy. not like his pretty sergeant wasn't whimpering at the feeling as well. the dirty mutt soap, was ruining his pretty sergeant. making her pussy wet, without enough effort to make her cum.

ghost couldn't quite see, but he could bet there was soaking wet spots on their uniforms.

soap was moving carelessly, thinking with his cock, and only for his cock. his dog brain couldn't process what a pretty thing he was rutting against. what a pretty cunt, that deserved to have her fill as well.

the scotsman was only getting louder, and closer to his release. ghost felt his cock throb in his sweatpants. god, was he hard. but he couldn't just watch from the side, as his pretty soldier was getting neglected.

soap should be thankful. he should be on his knees, begging to get a taste of their pretty girls pussy.

but no. the mutt didn't have any manners. he needed to be put in his place.

neither of the dummies noticed when he walked closer, too distracted for their own good.

ghost's big, calloused hand quickly reached out, and grabbed onto the scotsman's sweaty mohawk, yanking his head up to look at him. soap immediately stilled, a confused and spooked.

"l-lt... hey..." soap nervously chuckled, still panting.

ghost glared down at soap, his cold eyes focused on his. ghost kept a tight grip on his hair, and looked down at his pretty sergeant, laying beneath soap. she looked just as frightened as soap, scared of being in trouble.

"selfish, ain't he?" it was more of a statement, than a question. soap pouted at his lieutenants words.

ghost smirked, as his pretty soldier shyly nodded her head. his free hand reached down, and brushed strands of her hair off her forehead.

ghost just looked down at her for a moment, before turning back to soap. he yanked on soap's hair again.

"get off of her, sergeant." ghost murmured deeply.

soap scrambled to back away from in between her legs. there was a obvious bulge on his cargo pants, with a wet spot forming on top.

ghost meanly chuckled at his submission. the lieutenant turned his head down again, looking down at his pretty sergeant. his hand traveled down, cupping her crotch. it was warm, a little moist too. most of it probably from soap.

his pretty soldier whimpered at the touch, shyly curling up.

"bet yer wearing something pretty underneath..." ghost murmured into her ear, his hot breath hitting her skin.

ghost turned to glare at soap. "and he didn't even think to take a look..." he continued.

soap was panting at the other end of the coach, his dick hard in his pants, as he tried not to touch himself. his lieutenant had caught them. he had caught his sergeants, rutting against each other like animals in heat.

and he didn't yell. he didnt file for transfers. he didn't punish them... well, this probably was soaps punishments, to watch from the side, while their lieutenant touched the precious girl's pussy.

ghost opened his pretty sergeant's pants, and pulled them down her thighs. underneath, she was wearing pretty, white panties. ghost chuckled at the sight. a wet patch on the panties, making them transparent, and revealing her sweet pussy. nice puffy lips, and a little bush above her hard nub.

ghost looked up at soap again. "take off 'er trousers, sergeant." he commanded him.

soap scrambled to pull down the other sergeants pants, as his commanding officer stared down at him. once her pants were thrown to the side, soap was face to face with her white panties. before he even knew it, ghost's hand had pushed his head down, his face down against her clothed pussy.

their pretty sergeant squealed at the sudden feeling of soap's nose pressing on her clit, with his hot breath hit her fluttering hole.

"lick it, mutt." ghost's commanded in his deep voice.

the scotsman's tongue immediately got to work, licking up and down the panty covered pussy, the wet patch only getting bigger with soap's saliva. he didn't care if he couldn't breathe properly, he'd gladly die just there.

ghost had to hold down their whimpering soldier, as she squirmed around. her chest moved with her heavy breathes, her legs twitching at the feeling of a hot tongue on her pussy.

"l-lieutenant..." she whimpered. ghost reached down and brushed her cheek with his thumb.

"good girl. ya wanna cum?" ghost asked, an amused smirk behind his mask. she nodded franticly and desperately, making ghost chuckle. soap must've been listening, his tongue moving faster on her. her pretty, white panties have long gone transparent from his dirty spit.

the lieutenants dark eyes averted for just a moment, only to see his sergeant humping the coach underneath him. what a dog.

both of them were near again. only this time, ghost was here. somebody to make sure, that both of them were taken care of. his own dick was hard as fuck too. he almost couldn't wait to go back to his room, and rub the hell out his cock.

but in this moment, he needed to only focus on them. they were too stupid for their own good. they were lucky it was him who caught them. this could've gone so much worse. they were lucky he was even letting them cum.

ghost snapped out of his thoughts, as his sergeants only got louder. they needed to be over with this quickly, it was only the matter of time, until somebody else walked into the common room.

ghost pushed soap's head down again, his big nose hitting her hard clit. that did it for her, making her cum. arching her back, whimpering, and shaking. soap wasn't far behind. his hips stilled, as he came in his pants. soap lifted his head, his face moist with the mix of her juices and his saliva. their pretty sergeant laid there, twitching and breathing heavily, almost limp.

soap sat up, the front of his cargos, soaked with his cum. ghost chuckled at the sight.

"how's the adrenaline rush now?"

idk i dont have the smut talent that these kind of writings need😭

[leah-lover]

Second chances.

Alexia putellas x coach!reader.

Summary: new job, old friends , and memories your tried to forget. Will you be able to dodge the past as you navigate your new job?

“ More news arrived from the RFEF who have promised that they were going through a systematic change after the Luis Rubiales scandal. They have announced this morning the arrival of a new head coach to lead the women’s team in the upcoming euro cup which will be held in switzerland. The 33 years old coach came from the united states where she led her team to victory in the nwsl. Her name may sound familiar to you because she was a part of Vilda's coaching staff until she decided to step away for unknown reasons. Although she has never coached a national team before, the new RFEF president is confident she will heal wounds left by her predecessor mostré tomé and restore the team to its winning ways.” says the reporter on the TV. you were sitting on your couch listening to her talking about your new job with player’s files in your lap. The international break was in 7 days and you needed to get familiar with everyone and have a clear plan of your strategy. 

Being back in Spain brought back so many memories. You haven't come back since everything went down and you quit your job. You swore you would never come back to work with the RFEF however seeing everything unfold in the news you knew that agreeing to come back was more of a necessity than a choice. You loved the girls very much and you knew that they deserved better than what they got and you were adamant on giving them the best. Moreover, the new president was a woman you knew and was friends with. You trusted her and agreed to give her a chance. Besides Barcelona was the best city in the world, you couldn't pass up the chance to come back home. 

As soon as you accepted your position, you contacted old colleagues, ones that you knew you could trust,  and combined them with some of the existing staff that you were 100 percent sure were a safe fit for the new environment you were hoping to achieve and formed your new staff and announced it to the media. The fans were shocked at the amount of changes you made and their comments were very supportive of your decision which gave you a boost of confidence. 

All you were thinking about was this team. You held and attended meetings all day long. You practically lived on your desk but it was all worth it because it all led to this phone call you were pursuing since the day you got to barcelona. You waited in front of your laptop anxiously waiting for your star player to join the zoom call. Shortly after you see her face pop on your screen. 

“ hola.” you say enthusiastically. “ hola.” she replies. She looked much older since the last time you saw her, which was 4 years ago. 

“ Thanks for agreeing to this call. It  truly means a lot.” you say playing with a pen in your hands. 

“ yeah it wasn't easy but i thought why not hear you out.” she replied. 

“ So I am gonna get right to it. I want you to be back in the national team. You are the best center back i know, i want you to be in the te am, and you deserve to have a place in this team.” 

“ I see you haven't changed, you are still as honest as you were but I would have to decline.” responded mapi. 

 “ I am turning things around maria. You know me, you know my story, you know everything. This time is different. I came back to make things different. You watched everything happen in front of your eyes. Do you truly think I could make someone feel the way I felt back then?” 

Mapi stayed quiet, she was perhaps thinking about that night you decided to leave everything behind. The night the idea of las 15 was created. 

“ okay.” you hear her say. “ I will come to this camp.” you are overjoyed “ you wont regret it leon.” 

 Your happiness was cut short because you remembered that you had to do this 2 more times with pina and leila. After 2 very long phone calls you got them to trust you and to agree to the return to the national team. You then drafted the call up list and sent it to your assistant. 

The days leading up to camp went by quickly as your plans of the first steps towards rebuilding were coming to fruition. 

You were sitting in your office when  you heard a knock on the door, it was your assistant coach informing you that the players began   to arrive. A wave of nerves watched over you but that was to be expected. You were a part of this team before and you hoped they would welcome you back with open arms. You were wearing casual clothes so that you won't be seen as authoritarian. You settled for a white t-shirt, black pants and shoes, and you wore your hair down. Your objective was to appear normal and friendly to the members of the team you weren't familiar with. You headed straight for the conference room and waited for the first people to arrive. Shortly after that Irene walked through the door. You were instantly transported back to 4 years ago which is the last time you and the captain have spoken. You closed your eyes briefly to try and get the bad memories away and open a new chapter with the captain. You shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with her and the rest of the barca group but quickly moved on to the other members that had joined. After they were all settled in their chairs you noticed the absence of the person you were most afraid to see, alexia putellas. Before you accepted the job you wrote down a pros and cons list. The first reason you put on the pros was the paycheck and the glory. However for the cons the first thing you wrote down was alexia putellas’s name. Seconds after you thought about her she appeared. She was just as beautiful and charming as you remembered. She immediately came to you but without sharing eye contact with you. She went in to kiss your cheek as a way to say hello and you did too. She still smelled like before and her smell still had a magnetic power over you. She then took a seat next to Irene and you pulled yourself together again and started your presentation. 

“ Hello everybody and welcome. You all heard of me, some of you even were a part of my team when I was working here which feels like a lifetime ago. But in that lifetime this team has risen from the underdog to the most favored and feared team in the world. I am here to continue that legacy and help the team strengthen its roster. But I am also here to create an environment, a culture, and a safe space for you all.  You all are the best in Spain and you deserve to be treated like it. This culture I am trying to create involves no tolerance for homophobia, transphobia, racism, or sexism. I urge you to report any case of abuse or mistreatment from my staff or your teammates. I tried my best to employ people I trust and are advised to report anything that made you uncomfortable.  So Without further or do let's talk strategy.” 

You go over everything you expect from the team and how the strategy is going to change. You then instruct your team to go rest so that training may begin tomorrow at 9 am. 

On their way out you called for the captain to have a word with them. Once the room is empty you quickly say ” so you heard everything i said, i just want to make sure that you two know that i mean Plus the captaincy is going to change. Obviously, you two are the captain and vice. You can come with me with any concern or question about anything.my door is always open.  I am appointing jenni as the 3rd captain.” 

“ That wouldn't go over well with the federation,” said irene. 

“ Well, I don't care. They knew who they hired. Plus I don't play by their rules.” you respond. The captains share a satisfactory look with you although you haven't looked at either of their eyes, then leave. 

Your transition to head coach seemed to be seamless. The players were responding to your advice and strategies. The media seemed to be happy with the changes you made and especially with the arrival of mapi leon. The vibe of the club overall was great, and you were getting comfortable in your new spot. However, it was all about to change at the pro match press conference. The conference itself went great. You and the vice captain answered all the questions given to you without any mishaps. But once the media left and you were left alone with alexia,  you felt yourself suffocating so you quickly got up to leave.  

“ You can't avoid me forever,” said Alexia calmly. 

“ Who said anything about avoiding you?  The conference is done, so I am leaving. If you want to talk to me about anything, my office door is always open.” you say with a cold tone not bothering to look at her. 

“ You don't talk to me like you never do. Besides you won't even look at me." Alexia sounded sad. All you wanted was to take away all her pain but you couldn't. 

“ I talk like this to everybody.” you hear her get up and see her in front of you. Not looking her in her eyes  would prove her point, and doing it would rip you to shreds. You suck it up and look at her hazel captivating eyes. “ Happy now?” you respond. “ We can't continue like this, we have to talk about that night.” 

“ alexia there is nothing to talk about. I forgot everything that happened ,I moved on. I am your coach right now. If you have a concern about anything football related, come to my office.” you were lying straight to her face. You didn't move on or forget what happened. You just hoped your tough girl act would hold with her. 

Game Day was always fun for you but this time around it had a little nervousness attached to it since it was your introduction as the new coach. You started your day witha call from the RFEF board wishing you good luck and re-stating their confidence in you. You revised your strategy, confirmed you starting 11, and headed to the bus so that you would head to the stadium. You decided on a blue suit and let your hair down. You looked both masculine and feminine   which summed up your personality perfectly. 

Once you arrived at the stadium you gave the girls a motivational speech, headed to your seat in the sidelines and waited for the game to begin. You weren't a loud manager. You just sat there, observed the play and took notes. You trusted the girl’s judgment and gave them some autonomy when it came to the style of play which rewarded you with a goal in the 8th minute by aitana bonmati. The 1-0 unset turned into 6-0 by the 76th minute which made you proud of your debut. However it all turned into chaos when alexia putellas fell on the field. You panicked as the paramedics ran to her. You watched  intensely as they examined her and waited for the signal that informed you that you needed a substitution which you got almost immediately. Your heart broke for the recently healed midfielder but you had other things in mind. You called for Teresa Abelleira and subbed her in. The game ended in a 7-0 win. You shook hands with everybody, did an interview but the thought of alexia didn't leave your mind.  As soon as you were done you semi sprinted to the locker room. Once you got there you found irene. 

“ Is it the acl again?” you ask worryingly. 

“ No, it's just a muscle strain and her knee is acting up again.”  you breathe for the first time in an hour. 

“ This is happening because of you.” she says harshly.

“ Excuse me.” you couldnt believe what you heard. 

“ You shouldn't have come back here. You taking this job was a mistake. You have opened up an old wound and this is just the beginning.”

“ I am going to have to stop you right here. First,  I am your boss not your buddy from back in the day so you are going to have to take a step back and show some respect. Second, you have the nerve to talk to me about making mistakes  knowing that you ruined my life not too long ago.

“ She didn't sleep last night. That's why she got injured today. I am worried about my friend.��� 

“ You should have thought about your friend 4 years ago.” you say as you enter the medic’s room leaving her behind. 

You found alexia with tape on her knee and achilles. Her eyes were closed so she didn't see you come in and sit next to her. 

“ I am willing to talk about that night this time only. Say everything you need but once I leave this room you are never going to bring it up again.” 

The only way to make it out is through. You thought.

[saphirafoxgirlspost1]

(Open Rp) Alternate Love Story in "The Fox princess and the Monkey King"

Long Ago, In the Kingdom Of Sakutopia Ruled by The Kind and Compassionate Emperor Of the Celestial world Connected in Every beautiful Kingdoms.. including The Jade Palace.. but There's One Land that was Forbidden and the New parts of hell was Known as "The Shadowland" Home of the great Shishagami who is a ruler of this Barrens of Decay, No one dared to go there because the entrance was Guarded by the Great Orc who will Attack anyone that tried to go in or Going out. Then There was a Kingdom Nearing this Waste land was Known as the Dark Kingdom Home of the Demonic Bats and Decay itself.. His name is "Koumori" The Son of the Great Shishagami and He was Known as the "Bat King", He's been Watching The beautiful Kingdom with his crystal ball hating all the beauties and Living until he Spotted The Princess Of the Sakutopia Name "Saphira Lorraina Fox" The daughter Of the emperor himself, He began to Fell in love with that beauty and he wanted her as a Trophy wife, His queen. He decided to Plan to marry his Daughter and taking over the kingdom Turning the celestial Realm into Darkness and decay, Then the Next day The Bat King arrives at the palace as the Emperor Demands an explaination why the bat King enters the kingdom uninvited Himself, Then The Bat king Told The emperor that He wanted a hand In marriage to His daughter.. The Emperor was furious and Shouted," You will Never Marry My daughter! She Sees you that your Not worthy for her hand! Begone you Vile Demon! Your Not Welcome to my kingdom!" The Bat King was Seething in rage..and Then He said," Fine but mark My words Your Majesty, Your Daughter will be Mine Either she Likes it or not! She Will be My Queen!" Then The Bat King Vanished from the kingdom.. The emperor was Worried about Saphira's Safety and Now, She is in Danger and So, He began to sent His daughter to the Jade palace where the Jade Emperor will Protect her Until the Bat king is being dealt with.. Before Saphira Head to the golden Carriage, her Father Stopped and handed her a Jaded Box, he said," My dear Daughter,, if the bat King is coming after you and ambush you.. You must go to the Human world and go to the Peach Flower Mountain, remember I told you about the Monkey king?" "Yes Father, you told me all about it..including his Life, the peaches, everything else. Why?" She asked.. then her Father answers," There you will find him.. He'll protect you from The Bat king." Then he hugged His daughter goodbye with tears running down on his cheeks. When Saphira got into the Golden Carriage and took off heading Down to the Jade palace but suddenly The Army of the Demonic Bats Ambushed them.. Then the Coach knew this would happen, So he summon the Portal to the human world and went through it..as the Portal Closed, Saphira Change into her Human Form.

Her hair is White as snow, Her eyes is Blue as a sapphire Sea and her skin is Pale as a moonlight.. While the carriage was taken her to the lovely area..it stopped by the docks and she comes out..and got in..and little does she know..she notice the beautiful Butterfly with a monkey face on the wings as she smiles, She knew that this Butterfly is rare to find it but little does she knows that this butterfly is the monkey king watching over her..When suddenly..She hears the bats screeching from the new portal..as she landed on sure and saw the mountains..and she began to run like hell..and saw the path to the top of the mountain.. Then She began grabbed her horse when it got out from the boat..she rides up there and made it to the cave.. she enters it..and sees the bolder is closed to be protected…The army of demon bats retreat after failing to enter the cave..The Bat king is Not Happy about it..So he Decided to Change into His Human form and Hides in the Big City waiting for her to Come to the city.. Meanwhile Saphira Saw the Ruines on the wall showing the life of the monkey King, every place turns gold as it shows it until she sees the monkey king and she said, "You there!" She sees him running and began to chase after him.. and when he stops and she said, "Wait I-" when she touched it..it went passed her.. and the gold faded as She gasp.. Then The Small Monkey face Butterfly appeared and She said, " I Should've Swore He was here.." Then Suddenly.. She sees the Monkey Face Butterfly Landed on the back of her hand and She looked at it and saw the golden eyes..and then The Butterfly said….

[mysunshinetemptress]

I Hate Her

Leah Williamson x reader Warnings: None

You had played as a centre back since you were six years old and asked to play on the Under 10s boys team. Your dream had been set from then, you wanted to play professional you wanted to play for England.

You sign your first academy contract for Manchester United a year later but continue to play for your local team wanting to practice and play as much as you could in hopes of someday making the England team.

You get a call up to your first youth England squad at 13, to say your excited is an understatement only you spend the entire camp on the bench as Leah Williamson is picked over you to start, the Arsenal academy player, future Arsenal player. Leah stared at you as she walked past the bench "Maybe they'll choose you next time." You decide then and there that you hate her.

United don’t have a women’s team and so you sign with Blackburn Rovers just before your 17th birthday. You love it Blackburn have given you everything you’ve wanted your their starting Centre Back, they see how hard you work and it pays off in the England Youth camps, you make your debut against Spain, Leah’s sick for the debut and you can’t help but repeat that in your head, that’s why your being picked not because ur better.

United form a Women’s team to take part in the championship in 2018 which is perfect for your because your contract with Blackburn Rovers ends and your free to sign with your childhood club in the summer.

It’s Leah’s turn to hate you when instead of joining the U23s camp you get called up to the Senior squad for a camp. You, your on a championship team that only got formed this season, you who has only been chosen over her a handful of times and now Phil Neville thinks your better then her, hardly.

Joining the senior squad felt surreal. Familiar faces like Lucy Bronze and Steph Houghton greeted you with genuine warmth. During training sessions, you pushed yourself to the absolute limit, determined to prove your place wasn't a lucky break. The coaches, Phil Neville included, seemed impressed. They challenged you , tested your tactical awareness, your ability to lead the defense under pressure. It wasn't easy, but you held your own, fueled by that quiet fire within.

One evening, Neville called you into his office. Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Were you getting sent home? But no, his words were unexpected. "You've got something special, kid," he said, a glint in his eye. "A raw talent, a hunger I haven't seen in a while. We're planning a friendly against Germany next month. Be ready."

News of your potential debut spread like wildfire. Back home, your family erupted in cheers. Blackburn fans were ecstatic, their underdog defender on the cusp of playing on the biggest stage. But the media frenzy was a different story. Headlines screamed "Unproven youngster" and "Neville's gamble." The narrative remained the same - you were the fluke, the temporary blip in Leah's meteoric rise.

That night, staring at the ceiling of your hotel room, a fierce determination took hold. This wasn't just about proving yourself to the coaches or the media. This was about proving it to Leah, to everyone who doubted you. This was about carving your own path, a path that wouldn't be defined by being "better" than Leah Williamson, but by becoming the best damn defender England had ever seen.

You come on against Germany in the 89th minute, you know then and there that u are going to have to fight for your life every time you want to make it on to the pitch for England either over Leah or along side her you will have to fight.

And fight you do.

The following months were a whirlwind. You were in and out of the senior squad, each call-up a hard-fought battle. Leah was a constant shadow, a relentless competitor. You pushed each other to new heights, your growth fueled by the desire to outshine the other.

The 2019 World Cup was on the horizon, and the competition for places was fiercer than ever. You were on the cusp, but the final squad selection was a knife-edge. Days turned into nights as you waited for the dreaded or the desired call. When it finally came, your heart pounded with a mix of joy and disbelief. You were in. But so was Leah.

The World Cup was a dream realized, a tournament that would define careers. You played your part,even it was for less minutes then you would have liked (It was still more than what Leah had been given.) solid in defense, a calm presence in the face of adversity. England's journey was a rollercoaster of emotions, culminating in a heart-stopping final game for third place against Sweden.

The bronze medal match was a bitter pill to swallow. A valiant effort, but ultimately falling short. The weight of the loss hung heavy in the dressing room, a stark contrast to the jubilant scenes from the other side.

You had cursed at yourself in the eleventh minute as Asllani out ran you and sloted the ball past Telford, Steph had come over tapping your back whispering that it was ok it was one goal as Alex and Lucy followed both squeezing your arms as you all walked to reseat, you quickly turn to telford letting out a small sorry, to which she shakes her head sending you a thumbs up before you turn as Ellen White starts the game back up.

You hoped that Asllani's goal would be your one and only but Jakobsson makes a run in the twenty second minute and this time you make sure you catch her running in front of the swedish player you slide infront trying to cut her off but she breaks left and you can do nothing but sit on the ground and watch as she rolls it into the back left corner. You fall back hands covering your face. It's Lucys turn to pick you up "Your trying your best, you corrected your last mistake by being on it more." You shook your head "Yeah but she still scored." Lucy sighed knowing she wasn't going to break through the doubt that was bubbling in your head instead she pulled you into a hug and headed back into position, as you once again turned to Telford who before you could even open your mouth was already shouting at you "It's ok kid, you tried." you dropped your head nodding just as the ref blew the whistle to restart the game.

You came off at half-time for Rachel Daly, you had refused to speak to anyone, you had refused to join in on the celbrations in the thirty-first minute as Fran Kirby scorded but now as you walked down the tunnel you tried to shake all those feeling, you had played in your first World Cup, you had played 45 minutes in a tough match, you were good enough for Phil Neville to think you belonged there.

Those thoughts came crashing down as Leah walked past you hitting into you harshly.

Leah's harsh collision sent a jolt of pain through your already bruised ego. You stumbled backward, your breath catching in your throat. Her eyes, cold and calculating, held a mixture of contempt and something else, a flicker of something you couldn't quite decipher.

You spun around, your face flushed. "What the hell was that for?" you demanded, your voice laced with disbelief.

Leah's eyes narrowed, her expression a mix of defiance and something else you couldn't quite decipher. "You were out of position," she snapped, her voice barely above a whisper in the echoing tunnel. "Two goals down, and you're daydreaming."

The accusation stung, but you refused to back down. "I was trying to cover," you retorted, your voice rising. "It's not like I wanted them to score."

A tense silence fell between you, the only sound the distant cheers of the crowd filtering down the tunnel. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, a familiar sensation of being under scrutiny.

"I wouldn't have let them through." You walk towards her your finger poking her chest "Yet he didn't even give you the chance, he chose me over you."

[mindtrcks]

asmr | CL16

Charles has been having trouble sleeping. Your videos seem to be the only thing that helps.

WC: 5.4k

Notes: performance coach!reader who dabbles in asmr (but only for charles <3), smut, phone sex/mutual masturbation.

Charles has been having trouble sleeping lately.

It could be because of timezones, or how much coffee he drinks. But it probably has more to do with the way he’s been watching the Drivers Championship slip further and further out of his grip with every passing week. But to admit that would be to admit that he’s losing control of the car, and with it, himself. To admit that would be to admit that there's nothing he can do about it.

So he claims that he’s merely been a little restless at night. He’s told to try calming teas before bed, so he does. But then he just has to get up and use the restroom. He counts hundreds of sheep without getting tired, and ocean noises and whale sounds just pound around in his skull until he turns them off. He tries picturing the schematics of the SF24 in his head until he has a perfect rendition in his mind. But then he thinks of how it feels to drag it back into the pits, and works himself up so much he can’t even close his eyes.

He’s growing more than just a little restless. He thinks he might be getting desperate.

—

“Have you tried warm milk?” Andrea asks him, when Charles shows up to training with bags under his eyes, yet again.

“Yes, no luck,” he answers. He doesn’t know a kind way to say that he’s tried everything that appears on the first five pages of google when he searches for insomnia remedies, including an American military tactic that’s supposed to work in ten seconds. (Charles has found it doesn’t work at all.)

Andrea makes a sympathetic sound and begins to guide Charles through a warm-up. His limbs don’t stretch as far as they would if he had gotten a good night’s sleep.

As he struggles, your voice calls out, from the corner, “Wait, he’s allowed to eat dairy?”

And that is something he is still getting used to. You, shadowing his sessions with Andrea. You’re preparing for your transfer to a team that shall not be named, as you like to say. Charles figures it must be a team that pays well, because you take the NDA quite seriously. When Andrea first told him about the arrangement, he worried it would be awkward, but he quickly found the opposite to be true. You talk quite a lot for a soon-to-be head performance coach. It’s comfortable. He likes your chatter, even if it’s a bit inane at times.

“Drink dairy,” he corrects, just to hear you huff.

The satisfaction is short-lived, though, because then Andrea’s hands are on his shoulders, pushing him further into his lunge, and deepening the burn in his thighs. “Milk is healthy,” Andrea tells you, sounding like a professor. Like he really thinks you don’t understand the merits of drinking milk. Charles just thinks you want to be difficult. “Also, he has an ice cream company.”

“Yeah, but I didn't think he started it for the love of ice cream. Plus, everybody makes it seem like drivers can only eat gruel. I need to shadow a nutritionist or something.”

Andrea lets him stand up, and instructs him to start stretching his arms now. “You don’t have to make the meal plan,” he says, once adequately satisfied with Charles’ form. “They can just find Dan—”

You interrupt him with a gasp and a rushed, “Shshsh,” not quite a shush, but something close. Like calling a cat. “You can’t say who it is,” you say, waving your arms. But then you freeze, and Charles can see the moment your face lights up with an idea. He knows, instinctively, that it can’t be good. “Wait. Charles, have you tried ASMR?”

He briefly debates lying, but he’s not sure he has a good enough poker face to get away with it normally, much less when Andrea pulls his arm up and introduces a new ache to the stretch. “I have tried, but it did not help much,” he admits, choosing to ignore both the delight on your face and the reserved judgment on Andrea’s. “It felt weird to have some stranger try to put me to sleep.”

“Ah, so you need your own personal ASMRtist, just for you?” you ask, eyebrows raising. Charles would feel shame, but he is just too tired. He watches you turn to Andrea and shake your head. “These drivers, man.”

Charles just sighs. Andrea makes his way to the treadmill, and Charles sighs again, this time with feeling.

—

He doesn’t think much of it, as he goes through the workout. Andrea works him hard enough that he doesn’t think much of anything at all. That is, until he’s doing crunches and your face suddenly appears above him, grinning down. “I could do it, if you wanted to try ASMR again. I could make you some, seeing as I’m not a stranger.”

At this point, Charles would try just about anything. Exhausted, and sweaty, and struggling to finish his set, he grunts, “Sure. If it is not a problem.”

“No problem at all,” you say, throwing him an exaggerated wink.

He’s lost too much sleep over the past few weeks to spend time parsing out whatever that means.

—

A week later, and Charles has honestly forgotten about the entire thing until you text him out of the blue on a Monday afternoon.

what kind of things do you like?

for your asmr :)

He stares down at his phone and tries to think of a reasonable way to respond to that. He has watched ASMR before, yes. It’s true that if it exists on the first five pages of google, he has already tried it. But all of the videos he watched were too creepy, or too loud, or again, too impersonal. He didn’t really discover anything that worked, except maybe for the lack of traffic in the background.

I like for it to be quiet, he sends, eventually. He’s not sure what else to offer. As he watches you type, he hopes that you won't put too much effort into this whole thing. Charles is not very hopeful that it will help in the first place.

well, yes!

i mean do you like talking? or water sounds or something?

I’m not sure, he types. And then, just to ease your expectations, adds, Honestly it will probably not work either way

have you no faith in me?

He doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he turns his phone off instead of overthinking.

—

It’s Wednesday night by the time you text him again.

for you, the message reads. There's a video attached, of course. He has to wait for it to download to his phone before he can see the cover image: you, sitting at a hotel room desk, smiling softly. Your hand is blurry in the frame, like you're pulling it back after pressing record.

He feels something tight in his stomach, a jump of anticipation. If his problem was the impersonality of the few videos he’s tried on YouTube, this would definitely fix that. The frame looks like something he might see if he were to do a video call with you. Something he might see if you were really talking to him.

Pressing play seems dangerous. He thinks it will probably not work, but there's the nagging thought in the back of his mind of what if it does? What if, after all the home remedies and melatonin and sleepless nights, this is what finally works? Your voice, your face, on a video just for him. How is he meant to deal with the repercussions of that?

It's a war within himself, whether to press play or not. The fact is that he needs to get sleep before free practice in the morning. But he cannot honestly say that watching your video would help any more than staring up at the hotel ceiling, counting the cracks and divots. Picturing sheep jumping over a fence, like his maman always said.

It is almost like his phone is singing to him, though. In a voice that maybe sounds like a siren’s or maybe sounds like yours.

He cannot help it. He presses play.

“Hi, Charles,” your voice whispers in the quiet of his hotel room.

Instantly, he panics and shuts his phone off. Much too dangerous, he thinks. The sheep will work just fine.

—

He wakes up feeling more exhausted than he has ever felt.

It’s bad, he knows. He hardly has anything to say to the reporters who try to talk to him before he gets in the car. Free practice is a nightmare, and he nearly crashes out in the middle of a flying lap. And then, of course, he has to sit through an entirely long debrief in which all that seems to be said is how he needs to be focusing more. Concentrating on what's important.

“Maybe you just need to get more sleep,” you offer, like you know, somehow, that he was too much of a coward to watch the video you sent. That you can see how he didn't even try.

“Maybe,” he agrees.

There are sympathetic faces, and then he’s sent back to the hotel early, with firm instructions to go to bed.

—

He tries to fall asleep on his own. He drinks tea and plays whale noises and even does yoga poses, which do nothing but aggravate his muscles, already sore from his incident in free practice.

In the end, there's nothing to be done. He rolls over and grabs his phone, resolving that, if nothing else, he will try. And even if it doesn't work, then he at least will know, and he can stop thinking about you sitting at that desk, whispering his name.

He presses play before he can convince himself otherwise.

“Hi, Charles,” you say, on the video. The room around you is dimly lit, the kind of yellow light in hotel rooms that makes everything look a bit hazy. You’re wearing your Ferrari polo, but you've pulled a zip-up over it. Charles always thought you looked very nice in red. He isn't sure if he's supposed to close his eyes or not.

“I know you’re probably only watching this ‘cause you’re desperate, so I’ll try my best.”

He watches you talk until you instruct him in a quiet voice to close his eyes, and he’s thankful for the clarification. It’s an easier instruction to follow than to just relax, like the YouTube videos say. It’s easier to follow your instructions, period, he thinks. He’s used to it, from your input in training sessions. Straighten your back, widen your stance, do two more. It’s rote, listening to you. And your voice is melodic, comforting. He listens contently as you tell him to count down from ten, and to guess whether you’re snapping with your left or right hand. You start making that sound you’d made at Andrea during his last training session with you, a hushed shshshsh, and Charles finds himself yawning.

Maybe it’s a trust thing. Maybe he finds himself getting tired because he knows he can fall asleep without worrying about you randomly screaming on the video, or interrupting the quiet with an ad halfway through.

Maybe it’s just because it’s you.

He’s asleep before he can come to a conclusion.

—

“You’re looking refreshed this morning,” you chirp at him, when you cross paths in the paddock.

He feels a flush rise high on his cheeks. I wonder why, he thinks. Outwardly, he admits, “Yes, I slept well last night.” And then, after a moment, adds, quieter, “Thank you.”

Your smile is softer than the usual grin you level him with. Still, he can tell you’re proud of yourself. “And you didn’t think it would work. See, Charles, your performance coach always knows best.”

He finds himself feeling grateful for your capacity for talking, once again. When he woke up, he was nervous he wouldn’t be able to hold a conversation with you anymore, or wouldn’t be able to force himself into acting normal. Now, though, it still feels just as easy. “You’re not my performance coach,” he states.

It gets him an eye roll. “Right, I’m your personal ‘ASMRtist.’”

You whisper the word, which he isn’t quite sure is a real word to begin with, and it’s almost like he’s watching the video again.

He knew it was dangerous clicking play.

—

With sleep, his performance improves.

It’s nothing miraculous. The car is still the car; the team is still the team. But it feels less like he’s fighting, or like control is slipping through his fingers at every turn. He starts to enjoy it a bit more, even during the rough times. Everything had felt so much worse when he knew that he could spend the entire day wrestling with the car, and wouldn’t even be able to sleep it off when the race was over. Now, he breathes easier knowing that your video is waiting for him.

You send him another, during the two weeks off in April, and then one more after his podium in Miami. He rotates through the three of them based on how he’s feeling, or how long he thinks it’ll take. (Sometimes, he feels a bit spoiled for choice, and starts brainstorming ways to pay you back.) Though he likes them all, he does have a favorite. The one you sent after Miami. You start it by telling him congratulations and saying that you know he’ll be on the top step soon.

It would be one thing if you mentioned his podium finish off-handedly, just the once. But no. The entire video goes on like that, soft encouragement sprinkled throughout, like a reward for racing well.

Whenever he watches that one, your voice follows him into sleep, where he dreams of you encouraging him to do other things, completely unrelated to racing.

—

His problem then becomes wholly unrelated to sleep, and completely having to do with you.

It’s like he’s pavloved himself into wanting to hear your voice, or see your face. He tells Andrea that he would not mind if you sat in on more of his training sessions, just so he can argue with you about the difference between cartwheels and somersaults, electric stoves versus gas, flying commercial or private. He gets to the garage early to see you warm up the mechanics, a thinly veiled excuse to watch you doing squats. He doesn’t put his headphones in while he walks around hospitality, on the off chance that he’ll get to hear your voice.

He once wondered what the repercussions of watching your videos would be. Now, he knows.

—

Monaco is a dream that cannot be deterred by his growing obsession with you.

Charles has been finding it hard to keep his eyes dry ever since the last lap. His mechanics pull him into a hug, and he feels like he’s flying. Arthur is there, crying. Charles never thought he could do it. Jumping into the water feels like victory. It is victory.

There will be a big celebration, he is sure.

You’ll be proud of him, he is even surer.

—

He’s not thinking about sleeping until you find him outside of his drivers’ room, and take him by the shoulders. “I told you you’d do it,” you say, pulling him into a hug that’s tight like a vice-grip.

His voice is muffled by your hair when he says, through a throat still tight with tears, “I am glad I got a good rest last night.”

You laugh as you pull back from him. It is hard to see through the wetness in his eyes, but he thinks he can see a similar shine in your own. He’s not sure what to do with that. There are all these people who are so proud of him, and now you’re one of them. Now you’re holding his shoulders and crying with him. It’s nice. He feels cared for. He wants you there after every win.

“Well, I’m glad to be of service,” you say. “I’m not sure when you’ll be going to bed tonight, but call me if you need help sleeping, Charles. Among other things.”

You punctuate your sentence with a wink, and then you’re gone, leaving him with the memory of your grin at the front of his mind, like an image burned into a TV screen.

—

He is going out tonight. The whole of Monaco will be celebrating him. The team will be waiting to greet him with open arms and open bars. People will want to pour some more champagne on him, and get him drunk, and find a dance floor.

He is going out tonight, but right now, he’s sitting alone in his hotel room, thinking about what you had said.

Among other things, accompanied by a wink. A wink. That’s flirting, he thinks. No, he knows. You’re flirting with him. You had winked at him when you first offered this whole arrangement, too. Charles hadn’t known what it meant. Hadn’t really cared. Now he wonders if you were flirting with him then, too.

It’s not so much of a stretch. You spend a lot of time with him, even if he has orchestrated most of it. It never seems like a chore for you to sit in on his training sessions. You gladly correct his form and tell him that he can take more. You’re a very hands-on performance coach, unafraid to touch him in places Andrea wouldn’t. Whenever Charles is alone in hospitality, you’re always quick to find him, eager to gossip about the mechanics or to share contraband pastries he’s definitely not supposed to eat. You make him the videos that started all of this. You tell him hi and congratulations and I’m proud of you. You talk to him in a quiet voice that he hears in his dreams now.

You care enough to cry over his win. Embarrassingly, that thought is what has him dipping his hand below the waistband of his briefs. He thinks he should not. He has places to be, soon. But he’s still a bit high off the adrenaline, and it’s been so long, anyway. If he is quick, it cannot hurt. This is what he tells himself, as he lays back against the pillow, and pretends he’s not thinking about you.

He doesn’t think of your lips, or your legs, or the way you look in Ferrari red. Or the way you would look as he pulls the Ferrari red off of you, ‘til you’re bare in front of him.

He’s not sure what compels him to pull up the first video you made him; it feels like a force beyond his control. Maybe it’s the memory of your grin, and your wink. Maybe he’s just crazy. Maybe he’s still just as desperate as when this all first started. Probably all of the above, he thinks, pressing play with as much shame as one can feel with their hand on their dick.

“Hi, Charles. I know you’re probably only watching this ‘cause you’re desperate, so I’ll try my best.”

You have hardly finished the first sentence when he closes out of the video with a shudder. Too weird, he thinks. He doesn’t want to tarnish the video. Or to use it for something you didn’t make it for. But now he won’t be able to stop thinking of you, or stop hearing your voice. He feels hot all over as he stares at your contact on his phone. You did say that he should call, even with other things. You had winked! Is this what you meant?

He is a race winner in Monaco. He decides to risk it.

“Hi, Charles,” you say when you answer, just like the video. Louder this time of course, since you’re not trying to put him to sleep.

It takes a moment for him to trust his voice. It would probably be easier if he stopped touching himself, but alas. He manages to get it out eventually. “Hello. You said to call if I needed help.”

“Oh, sleeping?” You ask, after making a shocked sound in the back of your throat that—in a different context—could be interpreted as something else. He has to choke down a gasp, and somehow, you don’t notice. “Wow, early night.”

He swallows, braces himself. “Not sleeping,” he admits. “You said I could call with other things, too.” His voice comes out so quiet with shame that he's almost surprised you can hear it all. You’re silent on the other end for a moment that seems to stretch into eternity. His hand stills where he had been touching himself as he waits with bated breath, half-expecting you to hang up on him.

You don’t. “Charles,” you say. There’s an edge to your voice that he’s never heard before, something vaguely scandalized and entirely too much to handle. He strokes himself, again, unable to stop himself, and hears you inhale sharply. “Are you—”

“I’m sorry if this is not what you meant. I can hang up.”

“No, no it's fine,” you say. He can hear shuffling across the phone. Just like pressing play on your video was dangerous, this is, too. Because now his imagination is left to run wild, and he wonders if you're in bed like him, if you're taking off the Ferrari polo, if you're touching yourself. “I've gotta be honest, I don't really—er, I haven't exactly done this before,” you confess.

“That's okay.” There’s a shy, nervous energy about you that he can feel through the phone. It's not something he’s used to; you're always the one with something to say, cocksure and easy. Maybe now it's his turn to take the lead. Maybe this way he can finally pay you back for all your effort in making him the videos. “This is something you want, yes?”

“Charles, I offered.”

And he supposes that is true enough. “Right,” he says, steeling himself. This is something he can handle. It's not like he's used to it by any means; it feels strange that you're not here with him, stranger that you’re doing this in the first place. But he can't exactly stop now. The slide of his palm against his dick feels nice enough on its own, but the prospect of you, on the other end of the line listening is something else entirely.

“What are you wearing?” he asks.

He feels like a dick even before you laugh out a shocked, “Jesus Christ, Charles.”

Still, he knows there are only so many ways that this goes. “It is how you do it!” he defends “I say ‘what are you wearing’ and you say—well, you know what you say.”

“But you know what I’m wearing. Ferrari shirt. Jeans. My uniform.”

He does know. He has been picturing you in red this whole time. But it's not as if he had asked out of curiosity. He asked so that he could tell you, “Yes, it’s probably not comfortable. You should take it off.”

He hears the sound of your throat clicking as you swallow. “Oh,” you say, really nothing more than a huff of air. It feels just as close to victory as jumping into the water.

“Tell me when you’re done,” he instructs, to the sounds of more shuffling. He can picture it, in his head. You, pulling off your shirt, ridding yourself of the jeans. Laying back just like him, waiting patiently for instructions. It’s becoming difficult to think through the blood rush to his dick.

“Done,” you say, plainly. He wants nothing more than to be able to see you, touch you. He wonders if your hotel room is cold, if you have goosebumps he could chase away with his hands. The thought distracts him, until you huff, “Charles.”

“Ah, sorry,” he says. It really is hard to think, especially when you're saying his name like that, breathy and soft and naked in bed on the phone with him. His dick twitches and he has to pull his hand away for a moment before continuing. “If I were there, do you know how I would touch you?”

The sound you make is almost like he’s punched you in the stomach. “You’re such a tease, just tell me.”

It’s easy to imagine, as he tugs on his dick. He’s not too proud to say that he's thought of this before. Maybe not over the phone, but you, with him, together. “I would take my time to thank you properly. I would touch your thighs, and your stomach first. Just lightly. You should, too.” He can tell you’re listening based on the way your breaths come in harsher. “Does it feel nice?”

“Yeah,” you answer, sounding dazed. Charles understands, deeply. He cannot believe this is happening, that you’re doing this with him, touching yourself the way he instructs.

You seem content for a moment, but when he doesn't specify anything further, it's not long before you seem to want more. “I could do this on my own,” you whine, a pitch to your voice that he never wants to stop hearing. He files the sound away in the same corner of his mind that remembers what you sound like talking him to sleep. Distantly, he hears the sheets moving beneath you, and can't help but to imagine you writhing on the bed, aching for more.

“I can hang up and leave you to it,” he threatens, with absolutely no intentions to make good on it.

The sound of the sheets rustling stops. “You’re not being very nice. Some 'thank you’ this is.”

You are a bit of a brat, he thinks. He should've known, really. You always seem to have something to say. But he certainly won't complain about it now, not when the sound of your voice is enough to make him believe that you’re there, that it’s you touching him, faster now, than before.

“You’re right,” he agrees. “Proper thanks are in order, right? You can touch yourself where you want to.”

Your breath hitches, and he can practically see you, on your bed, your fingers working expertly at yourself. “Are you?” you ask, and it takes him a moment to recall the line of conversation.

When he does, he chokes out, “Yes, I—have been.”

“Chivalry is dead,” you sigh out.

He still tries to defend himself, even as the sound of skin slapping against skin becomes more and more pronounced in the emptiness of the room. “I’m being nice! You help me to sleep so now I will help you to come.” He hears you squawk a laugh, but it quickly turns into something more like a moan. “Ah, see? I am helping.”

“You’re not doing anything.”

He briefly debates the merits of walking through the hotel sweating and hard in his underwear to find you. But he thinks the team leads at Ferrari would prefer if he did not. He supposes that imagining will work just fine, for now. “If I were there, I would use my mouth,” he decides. “You could sit on my face, I would let you.”

“Oh,” you say. He pictures you with your head thrown back, chest heaving, and hid dick twitches in his hand. “Maybe you are a gentleman.”

Eh, this is not very gentlemanly, he doesn't think. If he were a gentleman, he would've taken you to dinner, or something. Not called you with his hand already down his pants. Still, he says, “Yes.” And then: “You should put your fingers inside.”

It might be his imagination, but he swears he can hear it, the slick slide, muffled by the sound you make, a choked mewl. “Good,” he says, and he thinks your answering groan may be equal parts frustrated and aroused.

He has to adjust himself against the pillows. Holding the phone makes it awkward; he considers dropping it and putting you on speaker, but he doesn't think he's quite ready to be able to hear your voice and your hands your noises projected in the room. It feels more intimate like this, just for him. And he would have to open his eyes to put you on speaker, have to stop picturing you fucking yourself with your fingers, at his request. It's not an image he plans on abandoning soon.

He hears your breaths become heavier and heavier over the phone, accompanied by sounds that slowly drive him insane, moans like a pornstar’s instead of a performance coach’s. If this is what you are like just from your own fingers, he cannot imagine how nice he could make you feel on his dick.

“I would fuck you,” he says, after a particularly nice stroke. He feels a little crazy with it. He won't last much longer, he knows. You called him a gentleman but he might finish first. At this point, there's nothing he can do about it.

The little hah you say into the receiver certainly doesn't help. “That would be—I can't say I haven't thought about it.”

“What did you think about?” he asks. He has to know now.

You make a tortured sound. He pictures you trying to hide your face, or squirm away from your own hands. His hips buck into his fist; he pretends it's you.

“I don't know. Everything, Charles,” you confess, through heavy breaths. “When you would take your shirt off in the gym, I’d think of you fucking me on the equipment. You made it very hard to take notes. Sometimes I'd think of you, like, fucking me in your car. The car.”

“There is not much room,” he says, instead of examining why that thought nearly sends him careening off the edge.

“Knowing that is above my pay grade.”

“I could fuck you on the hood, maybe,” he hums. The image is—god, he’s really not going to last. “My two favorite things.”

The sound that comes out of you is a mix of his name, and several assorted swears, and maybe something about Ferrari firing you. But your voice is shaky and you gasp like it’s over, like you just made yourself—

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Did you—”

“Yes,” you squeak, like you're embarrassed. He didn't know you had the capacity. “Oh my god, Charles.”

It’s his name on your tongue that has him finally spilling his load with a shout that he hopes is mostly muffled by the hotel walls. He’s pretty sure Fred is the next room over, something he hadn't wanted to think about with his hand in his dick and still doesn't want to think about now, cum drying in his boxers and you catching your breath on the other end of the line.

“Is that what you meant?” Charles asks eventually. “When you said I should call you?”

You sound almost sheepish when you answer. “Yeah, but to be honest I didn't think you’d pick up on it.”

“I thought it might have been just wishful thinking. The adrenaline made me do it.”

“Well, you were very good at it. I think you could make better asmr than me.”

He shudders at the thought. He cannot imagine doing what you do, whispering to his phone camera and pretending it's you. He's grateful for your lack of shame, because he's not sure he’d be able to do it were the roles reversed. “No, I'll leave that to you.” And then, because he’s still running mostly off of adrenaline: “Maybe we can talk more later? In person?”

He can hear the grin in your voice when you answer. “I’d be mad that you're hanging up on me, but I think you may be trying to invite me to your party?”

“You know you're already invited. But maybe you could come with me?”

“It’s a date,” you answer, which makes Charles three for three on victories for the day. Somehow, this one feels the most monumental. Maybe it's because of the cum still drying in his briefs. “I’ll wear something more fun to take off than my team kit.”

—

You wear something that's honestly rather difficult to take off, but he quickly discovers that you're good with your hands, and layer, he discovers that ASMR is not the only trick up your sleeve to tire him out.

[artssslut2]

New Normal

Dilf!Art x Reader

Summary: A lazy morning with Art Donaldson.

You and Art became inseparable soon after you started dating, well as inseparable as you could be while Art was raising a five year old. You had met Lily for the first time a while ago and she loved you, she called you her best friend, it was the sweetest. Nowadays you and Lily would spend more and more time together.

However you never slept over when Lily was with Art. You didn’t want her to be confused or get too used to you being around all the time. Even though Art was sure you were it for him. He was a father first and a great one. Tashi had Lily most weekends - when she wasn’t out of town coaching, but this weekend she was home and had their daughter. Art always misses Lily so much, but it was nice to have some alone time with his girlfriend. You stayed over since Thursday, it was amazing. Art was so romantic and caring. It was like you were royalty anytime you were around him.

You rolled over in the morning still groggy from waking up, you saw your boyfriend laying next to you admiring you sweetly

“Hey sleepyhead” Art whispered tucking hair behind your ear. You smiled and kissed his hand as a response “think about how great it will be when you live here.” He hinted curling up next to you

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled with a raspy sleep voice “when’s that gonna happen?” Art looked at you lovingly and took a breath

“Soon, when I propose.” He winked, your heart started pounding and you felt 100% awake. You loved art and wanted a future together, you knew this talk would come but it caught you off guard in a good way.

“Yeah?” You asked with an enormous smile that made Art return the smile

“Yeah” he chuckled “if you’d want that” he followed joking around because he knew the answer. You nodded enthusiastically and he laughed then you laughed crawling up into his lap giggling like a kid

“I just… gotta talk with Lily and come up with a plan so that she feels good, I don’t want her to feel left out or anything.” He told you in his concerned dad mode. You loved seeing him as a father, watching him worry about his little girl made your heart melt

“You’re a really great dad, you know.” You smiled, he let out a soft exhale and smiled slightly, you felt butterflies in your stomach before asking him what’s on your mind “D-do you… want to be a dad again?” You asked shyly. You were young and still wanted more kids, surprisingly it’s something you hadn’t talked about. You couldn’t read his face and started to panic a little “maybe… later on like someday?” You continued nervously. Then a smile spread on his face and a tear formed in his eye

“Yeah. Yeah I would love that.” He said wiping a tear before it could fall.

“Baby are you okay?” You asked holding his face and he just continued smiling

“Of course I’m okay. I just never thought this would happen to me… I thought I was done with that stuff I felt kind of I don’t know unlovable. I’m thankful for Tashi but that marriage took everything out of me. But when I met you. Baby when I met you everything changed, I felt so alive again for the first time in so long. I love you so much y/n.” He said teary eyed. You hadn’t seen art this emotional. It made you tear up too, watching Art learn to love himself again was one of the greatest things to watch.

“Art you deserve the world. You the greatest partner and father and role model, I’m in awe of you everyday. I want to help give you the marriage and life you deserve.” You touched your forehead to his.

“I’m gonna give you everything.” He said kissing your forehead and then you passionately. Then he felt his phone go off. He wouldn’t normally pick it up when he was spending time with you but since it could be about his daughter he did. He looked at it with slight disappointment

“Tashi has to catch a flight she needs me to go pick Lily up.” He told you. He wasn’t upset, it’s not that he didn’t want to pick up Lily. Not that at all, he just hated seeing Tashi choose work over their daughter more and more. He never wanted Lily to feel how he felt.

“Oh, do you want me to head out ?” You asked understandingly

“No… come with me. Lily will be happy to see you.” He told you putting a shirt on. You wouldn’t go with him on drop offs or pickups you tried staying out of the day to day routine. “You sure?” You asked

“Absolutely. Gotta get used to the new normal.” He smirked buckling his belt. Your heart fluttered and you nodded.

You and Art got to Tashi’s about thirty minutes later, Art went up to the front door and didn’t even get half way there before Lily burst through the door and ran straight into his arms, it made you smile and think about what a good man he was. He put Lily in his hip and then met Tashi by the door. They talked for a minute and then Art gestured towards his car and Tashi gave a quick wave in your direction. Then the door shut and Lily and Art were on their way to the car.

“Y/N!!!” Lily greeted excitedly leaving from the backseat to give you a hug,

“Lily!” You returned and Art smiled

“Y/n are you coming home with us?” She asked with the same scrunched up smile her dad had

“Yes of course I am!” You matched her energy and she was ecstatic “we’re gonna stop at Starbucks first though right?” You asked leaning towards Art and he gave you a smile

“I guess so” he said playfully as you have Lily a wink and she laughed.

You couldn’t wait to officially be apart of their family, they were your world.

[oatmealthighs]

bigbro!choso x blackfem!babysitter!reader

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 contents: nsfw 18+, MDNI. overstimulation, rough sex, mutual pining, breeding kink, masturbation. i guess a lil stalking? choso's last name is itadori, yuji is a lil one, reader is black-coded and depicted to be a bit thick. but yea gets pretty nasty. minors gtf back

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 author's note: yea this is a bit more self-indulgent than i'd like to admit.... but nonetheless! i still hope yall like it! inspired by this work of art

“so you're the new babysitter, huh?”

his voice was so deep. it rumbled through your every limb, made every hair prick up against your melanated skin. your throat went dry as you looked up at the man so casually leaning against the doorframe to his quaint, humble home, towering over you as he observed you almost menacingly.

as choso itadori looked down at you with indifferent eyes, you couldn't stop your own from scouring, observing the way the black tee he had on was tight in all the right places, hugging and squeezing at his muscular biceps and clinging to his formed chest. his brown hair was tied up, spiky locks in two ponytails. black jewelry adorned his ears all the way up to the helix.

you felt small, under investigation as his dark orbs intensely pierced through your own. but you didn't waver, it was never in your nature to showcase your uncertainty. instead you smiled, glossed lips parting to show your pretty teeth. “yep, that's me! my name is [name].” of course choso already knew that, and maybe a bit more that he didn't plan on sharing with you. he had no shame when it came to investigating who he was entrusting the care of his baby brother to, yuji being his heart and rib, the only family he had left on this entire planet. he'd die for him, kill for him, do worse if it came down to it. but with you, all that extra shit didn't seem necessary to make clear.

choso knew you looked good from your instagram he managed to find after some digging, but your posts didn't capture the true, full essence of your beauty. the camera didn't necessarily capture the way your brown skin glowed and shimmered in light, or accentuate your curves like how they looked now. you smelled sweet, like yams and vanilla. the magenta yoga set you wore clung to your skin tantalizingly, outlining your curvy silhouette and the top zipped down just a little low to show a little cleavage. your hair was styled* into a neat bob, bluntly cut just above your shoulders, not a single hair out of place. your lips were lined a dark coffee brown and ombré’d into the pink natural color of your skin, coated with sparkly gloss. your large glasses sat on the bridge of your wide nose, a french-tipped nail pushing them higher up. choso continued to feign disinterest, but he knew the darkening scarlet brushing over the tips of his ears might be what would give him away if you took any notice.

luckily enough, your attention was drawn elsewhere, the sound of toddler yuji cooing as he waddled through the living room towards the front door making your eyes widen with adoration. you kneeled down to his height, yuji’s big brown eyes finding yours and him sending you a gummy smile. “and this must be yuji! ohh, you’re the cutest thing! making my heart swell.”

choso needed you for a short while, just until he could find a new daycare for his little brother. between him working over forty hours a week and using the weekends to focus on bonding with yuji and resting up, he never really had the time. or more-so, seeing how well yuji gravitated to you, how he began asking about you by just saying your name during bath time, how he always cried when you left, was what made it drop lower and lower on his priority list.

you were much more help than he expected you to be, and did far more than what he was paying you to do, which resulted in the extra hundred dollar bills he would sneak into your cherry coach bag every evening. it was the least he could do: you made meals, helped clean, always put yuji down to bed before you left. even did the laundry as needed. you insisted it was okay when choso told you you didn't have to bother yourself with tasks that weren't in the job description, and that you didn't want or expect anything extra out of it. but you stopped fighting against his generosity… not that there was ever a struggle.

some nights required choso to stay later, long past his typical return time of six o’clock, and some nights he wouldn’t return until 2am. he would come in from a particularly tiresome day at the hospital in his his grey scrubs and his hair pulled into a low ponytail. he would never be surprised to find you laying on the large sectional sofa, glasses still on but your bonnet tied tight around your head, under one of the extra blankets with your phone replaying a tiktok. choso always had the guest bedroom prepared for you but it was always all for naught, as the couch seemed to be your preferred place of choice. it was so soft, it had to be well over a thousand bucks. he never disturbed you, you deserved your sleep. at most, he’d shut your phone off and turn down the tv, and head upstairs to shower and prep for bed himself. he’d often hear you leave the house later that night or early in the morning.

choso was the strong, silent type most of the time. he was an action-driven man– if he didn’t say it he would show you. you knew he liked you for his baby brother when he asked how did you feel about hanging around yuji for a bit longer than anticipated one evening while you were just about to leave out for the day. or when he would sneak those crisply folded blue bills into your bag. you wondered what he did for work one day, and you asked him. he was an anesthesiologist, he said. and you knew he was rolling in the money then.

there were no signs of a woman in his life from what you’ve seen. no feminine hygiene products in the bathroom, no pictures, no particular scent aside from your own aroma of sweetness. no mentions of a “she”... not that you’ve ever talked about it. you wanted to pop the question, but you didn’t want to weird him out- you opted to just “keep things professional.” but shit, it was hard sometimes. choso was a nice-looking man, with a height of 6’3”, a hard, muscular build, and dark eyes that made you shudder when he looked down upon you with them. sometimes he would come home after a vigorous work-out at the gym if he had the pleasure of getting off on time, wearing a black underarmour compression shirt that would be so damn tight you’d see every sculpt and cut of his meticulously defined upper body. his hair would be down, brown tresses clinging to his strong neck, thick eyebrows knitted together at the feeling of sweat and perspiration sticking to his skin and his growing need to shower. you would be in the kitchen, just cleaning up since you wrapped dinner up not too long ago, and the smell would make his stomach borderline roar at him. he’d shower, then come back in a tee and grey sweatpants, damp hair hanging as he sat at the table and basically ripped apart whatever you had prepared for him.

sometimes, you’d be in a rush to go home. not because choso would make you uncomfortable or anything. never that… but you knew your body. you knew that warm pool of heat in between your legs meant nothing but trouble, and was something that needed to be handled, preferably asap. you’d rush into your little apartment, make a beeline to your bedroom and strip down to your bare skin before jumping into your silk pink sheets. you’d grab your vibrator and press it to your clit desperately, pussy squeezing around nothing as you threw your head back against the soft pillows. you’d pinch your brown nipple, bottom lip trapped in between your teeth as you moved your vibrator in small little circles. more and more, you’ve began imagining choso in between your legs, his large hands parting your thick thighs like the red sea as he ate you out, his tongue lashing at your clit and slurping up your honey like a man parched. you imagined him pinning you against a wall with those brawny arms of his, knees pressed to your chest as he pounded you, burying himself to the hilt as your pussy squeezed his thick, long dick like a vice. it would be so nasty… you could only imagine the way you’d be cumming around him, how he’d make you cream and release until you’re ran dry.

sometimes when you finish, you’ll feel ashamed, throwing your vibrator to the end of the bed as you squeezed your legs together and hid under the comforter with embarrassment. other times… not so much. the fire would still be stirring and burning within you, begging for something more, for you to truly be filled. there were times you were a smidgen too close to calling up one of your old flings, just to fulfill your desire of being stretched out once again and to just imagine the man over you was your employer instead.

your feelings didn’t go completely unrequited.

choso held his tongue for the greater good of professionalism and your comfortability, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t contemplate asking you to dinner a few times. from what he’s seen and observed on your insta, you didn’t have a special somebody. and he figured it would never hurt to ask. but choso was careful. he often opted to just not say anything.

he felt his gazes getting longer, his eyes moving more risky every time he’d see you moving about in his home working. he picked up that you really liked two piece sets, especially the ones made of sculpting spandex that always clung to your body almost provocatively. the way your ass sat in them, he was almost embarrased to say he dreamed about grabbing a handful of it, palming one of your cheeks with his entire hand. your glossed lips always caught his attention. he often thought about how it would look smudged on his skin, smeared across his own lips after tonguing you down.

your smell lingered. on the furniture, in the blankets, hung in the air. it was embarrassing how the scent of shea butter and vanilla was enough alone to make his dick stiff. it’s been so long since he’s rubbed one out. and he was doing a good job until you came along. he wasn’t proud to admit the amount of times he’s touched himself to you, his hips rolling his dick up into the clenched palm of his hand, soft squelching sounds filling his master bedroom. he’d imagine how you’d ride him, slamming your hips down against his own, your ass flush against his skin as you moan sweet nothings into his ear while he tried his damnedest to not nut in you.

the tension was growing thick. it could be sliced with a chainsaw at this point. but the both of you both opted to play it safe. until it spilled over… and it was bound to happen.

and it did.

"ouuuu, shit, choso!" the way that man was absolutely drilling you from behind was almost criminal, the deafening sound of his hips cracking against your fat ass echoing throughout the sound of the living room as he was trying his best to fuck you through the couch he had you drooling on.

you really don't know how you got here. well... you do. after all, this was the day you've been plotting and hoping on the moment you first seen choso's fine ass leaning against his doorway. it was like a dream come true, watching the way he deliciously hovered over you like predator over prey, his silky brown tresses draping around his sharp facial structure and his silver chain dangling, swinging in cadence with his hard, deep thrusts.

the two of you were just watching a movie, mr. & mrs. smith to be exact, courtesy of the invitation he extended earlier that night when you put yuji down for bed. an opportunity to "get better acquainted" over wine, gourmet chips, chocolates and a good action-romance.

"i see the way you look at me," you had stated boldly as you sipped your third glass of wine, the pillar to your sudden courage. "i know you notice how i look at you, too."

choso was sprawled out on the couch, legs spread and his arms thrown over the top. his head rested in one of his big hands, gazing at you through heavy-lidded eyes. he's silent for a moment as he looks at you so intently, his orbs filled with need, before he finally diverts his gaze to the tv. "yeah."

you look at the tv for a bit, not interested at all actually, but feigning it as you finished your glass. it was silent for a bit, albeit the sound of gunfire and car collisions booming through the in-home sound system, before choso speaks, "you can sit closer."

your scooting closer somehow led to you sitting in his lap, which led to a passionate, sloppy makeout session involving you straddling his firm thighs and his big hands gripping your entire ass in his palms as your tongue dived into his mouth. and all that led to him softly laying you on to the couch cushions, your lips never leaving each other's.

his lips are as soft as they look, yet leave scorching flames of desire in their wake as he litters passionate kisses all over your jugular and chest. he buries his nose into your skin, almost moaning at how sweet you smell and taste. as he continues to trace his name on your skin with his tongue, his fingers find the zipper to your purple yoga jacket, his eyes peering at up at yours through his thick lashes to ensure he has your approval.

you nodded your head gently.

choso made it his mission to show you he had much more to offer than some blue bills to you. you never depicted or predicted the guy to be an eater. but oh, were you pleasantly surprised.

that man can eat some pussy... and he does it like he gets paid to do it. he had you spread out like you were his dinner, and you were, your legs wide apart, knees bent. he sat on his haunches on the carpeted floor before you, spreading your lips apart and sloppily sucking at your clit that throbbed eagerly against his lips. he'd dip his head down, lapping up any of your leaking wetness before making out with your pussy yet again, his eyes trained on you and watching intently as your pretty face contorted into expressions of pleasure.

he'd make you cum all in his mouth, encouraging you to do so, never letting up as your thighs shook and vibrated, your eyebrows pushing together and your eyes fluttering shut as the bright hot warmth of your well-awaited orgasm overtook you, leaving you gasping for air. his compliments, "good girl," and "you taste so fucking good" would just get you all riled up again. choso came in his pants too, his ear tips bright red as he made it his duty to lick up all of your sweet nectar, but he kept that to himself.

that's not the only way he wants you though. he'll sit on his bottom on the floor next, his head resting against the couch, requesting for you to sit on his face. "what? choso, no, i'd crush you."

he'll take that as an insult of course. he benches twice your weight, easily. a little extra plush on the thighs wouldn't kill him, in fact, he'd love it ten times more. you'd saddle up, hesitantly brushing your pussy against his lips, and he'd look up at you, unimpressed.

"whaat?" you feign confusion, in reality, a bit shy and nervous at the thought of putting your weight on him.

"sit."

his words made every hair stand at attention against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. you bite your lip, your gloss long smeared off and all over his pale skin. you bring your weight down on him a bit more.

"all the way." fuck.

you do as you're told, and a deep moan of satisfaction rolls through him, his tongue already dipping into your dripping folds. and before you could even think about letting up, his strong arms are locked around your thick thighs.

he'd have you writhing in his grip, going insane at the way his tongue wrote love letters in cursive against your clit. he'd be damn near drowning in your release, your cum slicking and dribbling against his chin as you rolled your hips back and forth against his soft lips. you were chanting his name like a mantra, and it was a beautiful melody to his ears.

and lo and behold, that's how you ended up on a first class flight to poundtown, your eyes stuck in the back of your head and your manicured nails digging into the arm of the couch for personal brace as his huge dick kept brushing up against that soft spot of yours and his girth stretched you so damn good. you knew you were making a mess- you done squirted twice already, your juices rivering down the insides of your thighs and seeping into the soaked couch cushion below you. "fuck, please don't stop!"

"yeah?" choso breathes over you, his cheeks flushed pink from his endurance. you knew he wasn't slowing down no time soon... he told you about his daily four mile runs. his pupils were blown wide as he watched the way you managed to still throw it back at him, stilling his hips as he watched your hungry pussy swallow his length every time your ass sat plush on his lower stomach. "you like that shit?" his calloused palm smacked against your ass unforgivingly, the fiery sting setting you ablaze. he did it again, one more time for good measure.

you were losing it, moaning exasperatedly into the couch fabric as you gave him everything you got, tossing your ass back against him, trying to match the impact he was winding you with just a second ago. "yess, fuck yess," you whine. you reach your hand back, your nails clawing at his shirt and yanking it in a ball. "please, choso, keep fucking me like that."

"what, like this?" his large hands were at your lovehandles, squeezing the flesh there as his resumed his relentless rythym, his eyebrows pinching at the way you squeezed around him like a vice. you let out a wail, your cream decorating his veiny shaft, and he relished in the feeling, a deep groan of satisfaction bubbling from his throat. "shit, you just keep cumming.... what is this, your fourth time?"

actually your sixth, but you weren't gonna correct him. if there was anything you knew, you wanted more. the way the veins of his dick dragged against your walls was a wonderful, irreplicable feeling, his balls slapping your clit with each profound stroke. his thick fingers found your hair, tangling his hand in your locks and giving them a courteous yank, making your back cave and arch deeper as you let out a yelp of pleasure. any other time, you'd for sure cuss him out... but his dick touching your soul was plenty good of a distraction. besides, you knew your hair was long sweated out anyway.

he was gonna give you some money for a new hairstyle anyway. he was good for making up for it.

choso feels himself teetering against the edge, between the sounds of your disgusting squelching and the mess you left on him and his couch, your pussy still begging for more as it and all its sloppiness still squeezed him whole, and your pretty keens and gasps bouncing around the room, it was almost too much. he felt like he was losing it, the hearts in his eyes palpitating as both of his hands held your jaw from behind. "the fuck are you doing to me..." he mutters aloud, his eyebrows furrowed as you eagerly sucked on his thumbs with a slutty moan.

"you know, yuji gets lonely sometimes," he whispers, slowing his thrusts and leaning forward to crush you with his weight, his dick bottoming out and making you let out a cry as your eyes snapped wide open. he rolls his hips more sensually as he licks at the back of your nape, the cool metal of his chain brushing the skin of your back and making you shiver. his lips trail to your ear, tongue lolling out at the shell as he continues, "i'm sure he wouldn't mind a friend. you'd like that wouldn't you? for me to fuck you full until i got nothing left, huh? you gonna drain me of all i got?"

you nodded your head desperately as you hummed a whiny "mmhm", turning your head to the side as you watched in awe as the man over you was spilling over the edge. "yes, i'd love it, cho, give it to me... please?"

choso hums in satisfaction, his heart thrumming against his ribcage as your words made butterfly cocoons hatch in his stomach and his dick stiffer than ever before. "yeah..." he slams into you, winding you with power and force that insinuated that he hated you, but he'd only make such a dangerous, promising offer to someone he truly liked. let alone anyone at all. "i know you would. you're nasty as fuck."

you didn't know if you were to be terrified or turned on, but the way your core pulsated around him let you know you were the latter. he let out a breathy moan at your physical response, but it didn't stop him. not even for a second.

he wasn't letting up. you weren't getting any breaks. the way you would be teasing him wearing those tight ass clothes and smelling like you wanted him to eat you alive. nah. he was giving you everything you ever dreamed about, everything you imagined when you'd resort to using your little vibrator between your legs.

and you loved every fucking second of it.

[seneon]

waiting for hours ──── seishiro nagi x fem! reader.

about. in which, nagi awaits your arrival at home for hours. pure fluff oneshot. wc of 1.2k.

notes. this is like, the highest rated chapter in my my oneshot book in wattpad. so im slapping this in tumblr too and happy belated bday to koala boy!! for @hyoismbbg ♡

𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐀𝐘 was the first time during this year that nagi was able to arrive home early from his football practice. and by early, earlier than the time his lover's work finishes.

he freshened himself up, ate some food in the fridge and waited. it was 8:42pm, almost an hour and a half for you to finish your work.

the football player, now playing for a professional team, was basically bored out of his mind. he could play games until you've returned, but the man had played every game in the universe.he could watch anime, movies or anything. but those would bore him instantly.

honestly, everything is boring to him nowadays. the only thing that would keep him entertained is football and you.

you were practically the same as him, a lazy person who somehow managed to be a successful writer and be in a relationship with another lazy athlete.

nagi waited and waited and waited. for what seemed like hours, he kept waiting for your presence to shine in his day. but every time he checked the clock, only a few minutes passed from the previous.

as tired as the white-haired male is, he decided to make you some simple yet cute supper, prepare your essentials for when you returned from work. nagi even set up your little table in your shared room by the window for when you read or do some planning for tomorrow.

he eventually lost track of time while trying to make everything in the house perfect so you didn't have to do anything else when you came home. an hour or so had passed, and nagi still didn't hear the door twist open.

you yawned, tired from the meeting you had at your publishing company. really, sometimes you wish you could boss around rude people and shut them up from their shitty opinions. but business is business. and rude people didn't really matter anyways.

you set everything the way it is, and stop in your tracks when you see the kitchen counter filled with a plate of delicious food.

the apartment looked pretty neat and clean too. when you looked around in suspicion and curiousity, some of the recognisable things belonging to your boyfriend were laying around freely.

that was when a smile crawled up your cheeks. your mind traveled to nagi who prepared the food and cleaned up the house— just as he walked out the room, an annoyed expression on his face.

"i thought you were never coming home, after i prepared everything for you," he pouted with a poker face, definitely disappointed at how late you arrived home.

"ah— my bad. thank you. you're home early," you shot him a lazy smile before he walked towards you and pulled you into a lazy hug, completely embracing you in his huge form.

"yeah, practice kinda got canceled because coach's wife got into trouble.”

since you were way tinier than him, you practically squished under his body, melting in the warmth of your lazy, sweet loving boyfriend.

he smelled like mint and fresh sugary frosting, from the body wash you gave to him as a present on his birthday. it was a scent that pulled you in so much it froze and destroyed all the negative comments that were written about your books.

as much as you didn't want to separate the hug, nagi gently plucked himself away from you, sternly looking into your eyes.

"eat, and go take a bath. then we can sleep together. practice might be cancelled tomorrow too if coach's wife's trouble is still ongoing.." he trailed off and shook his head. "ehh whatever just go. i made food for you without burning the kitchen and prepared stuff for you in the room."

you chuckled and nodded your head repeatedly, trying to keep in the laugh with his ridiculously sarcastic get funny words. pretty much whatever nagi said could be funny to you.

"i won't doubt your effort. thank you again," you tiptoed and gave him a quick peck on the lips, heading over to the kitchen counter to eat your supper.

the peck made nagi blush. it was the first kiss you gave him this week. it is monday night, the start of the week. and you kissed him yesterday. hah. humour. nagi keeps track of kisses he gets from you.

anyways, he wanted more kisses from you later so he watched you eat while conversing a little about both your writer job and athlete jobs.

then, he waited for you to take your bath, freshen up before you bailed out your little window corner and jumped into bed with nagi.

"thank you, sei," you thanked him again, as he buried his face into your hair, inhaling the fresh scent of your shampoo. "you've thanked me three times already. you're welcome though..."

your fingers moved to lace themselves in the soft fluffy hair of the male, moving around to ruffle and gently play with it.

nagi's hair was fairly soft, like cotton candy that would melt when it came in contact with liquid. it could even be on par with the clouds albeit you've never felt clouds before. but you just know it was more soft and fluffy than anything else.

you found it awfully cute that his love language is physical touch, so much that you often see him as a cat. and for a fact that nagi only needs and wants your attention, not from anyone else because you are everything to him.

the male hummed when your fingers played with his hair, an odd calmness filling over the mind and body of the athlete. you always managed to calm him down, physically and mentally. he loved that it was a good trait of you that he fell in love with.

"i love you," he said against your neck, his breath touching your skin as you couldn't help but smile at his words. he was random, sure, but you know when nagi was being genuine and sarcastic. now, he meant every word of it.

"i love you too," you replied softly, your fingers moving, trailing down to his cheeks to caress his chiseled jawline and softly stroke his cheeks.

such a work of art, you thought to yourself when you faced him and looked into his eyes.

how could a man be as angelic as your boyfriend?

you felt so blessed to have nagi in your life, never regretting that you made the first move for being friends and eventually he would later on give you a lazy confession that was conducted by his friend, reo.

"you're really beautiful, love," he felt himself smile when the both of you were staring into each other's eyes lovingly. "so beautiful.."

"and you're very handsome," you chuckled, going closer to his face. you kept the tiny distance for a moment, having a small time to admire nagi's grey eyes.

nagi then closed the distance between you both, his lips ever so softly closing in on yours to give you a lovely kiss.

it was filled with the purest intentions of showing how much he loves you, nothing else than an innocent kiss that was focused on appreciation and love.

you both pulled away at the same time, your arms wrapping around his neck as his own snaking around your waist to pull you close.

gosh, you love hugs when it comes to your lazy gigantic boyfriend. he always gives you the best ones.

"let's sleep now, okay?" he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, letting you reply with a nod before pulling the soft blanket over you two.

"i've been waiting for hours to cuddle you to sleep. good night, y/n.”

© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[ludwig-van-gaythoven]

Cabin Fever - (Regina George x F Reader)

Fandom;

Mean Girls (2024)

Pairings:

Regina George x Reader

Summary:

The students of Northshore go on a school trip for a week in the forest. You end up getting to know the apex predator in a way you’d never seen her before.

Warnings;

Underage smoking, underage drinking, implied ED

Parts

Part 1// Part2// Part 3// Part 4// Part 5// Part 6

School trips were never really your thing. Sure it was good to be out of classes but to you it just seemed like an extension of school and honestly you’d rather be anywhere else.

One of the teachers thought it would be a bright idea to take you all out of school for a week to spend it in a forest ‘immersed in nature’. Possibly their tactic to get everyone to stop being at eachother a throats especially after the whole Cady incident a few months back.

It didn’t help that your best friends Janis and Damien both ended up getting sick at the last minute so couldn’t come with you , now you had to stay in your shared cabin alone. At least you didn’t have to room with a random person the whole trip, small mercies I guess.

The coach drive there was boring. You sat near the front, making sure to put your bag on the seat next to yours so nobody tried to sit with you. Of course Queen Regina and her minions took ownership of the back of the coach, that’s why you decided to sit upfront. Best to stay out of the firing line.

It’s not that you hated Regina, you understand why she’s the way she is. It’s a smart move to position yourself at the top of the food chain to avoid being mauled. Your tactic has always been to just steer clear of the food chain entirely which has worked so far.

The coach finally comes to a stop after a few hours and everyone shoves their way off and mills around in groups before a teacher starts to call out names and lodge numbers so people can go and unpack.

As soon as you turn the corner you hear Regina’s shriek of horror.

“Eww, what the fuck are these. I thought we were staying in chalets”

You roll you eyes. The cabins were clean, neat, maybe a little rustic. Of course Regina would still have to be dramatic about it.

“I’m sure forcing us to stay in one of these is some form of neglect.” She snarks at Mrs Norbury as she takes her hot pink suitcase over to her accommodation.

Luckily you get assigned one of the cabins at the edge of the forest, it’ll be quiet. Unfortunately it’s the next cabin over from the plastics. Not that they’ll even notice you there, I’m not sure any of them even know your name. It feels safe to be invisible, if not a bit lonely.

Once everyone is settled, a teacher comes round to each cabin explaining that tonight you can just get settled. No hiking or activities today, just a campfire and dinner later. That suits you perfectly. You sit on the creaky bed in your cabin, pull out your Switch console and start to get lost in a game. Hours pass before dinner call and you make your way, alone to the campfire.

You sit on your own, out of the way of all the different high school cliques. At this point you wish Janis and Damien were here. It feels vulnerable sitting alone.

To distract yourself you watch the other groups like a documentary maker. Noting the way they interact, the tension between them and the clique next to them. However nobody quite catches your eye like Regina.

She’s like a lioness. She has this invisible hold over everyone. They can all fuck about in their own groups but as soon as someone steps a foot out of place she roars and swishes her mane and everyone scampers back to obedience.

Currently she’s sitting at a bench with Gretchen and Karen, they’re talking enthusiastically about their plans for the trip; makeovers, cabin decoration, girly shit. Regina seems zoned out, she’s been pushing the same bit of food around her plate for a good 15 minutes. Every few minutes it’s like she’s trying to solve a puzzle, rearranging everything until teachers tell us to go back to our cabins and rest for the evening. You’re not sure you saw her eat a single thing, the food is probably not up to her standards.

Regina stands and suddenly seems snapped out of her trance, flashing a grin and summoning Karen and Gretchen back to the cabin with her.

You follow, a good distance behind. No point getting too close to danger, and slip back to your Cabin unnoticed.

There’s not much to do alone in a forest so you end up putting on a movie and start a new page in your sketchbook. Janis and Damien are the only ones to know you draw. That’s how you ended up speaking with Janis in the first place. If that news ever got back to Regina she’d probably have something to finally pick on you for, but so far you aren’t even on her radar.

You lose a lot of time sketching out some of the trees you can see out of the window, lots of tall, looming pines fill the page, you start to sketch a lion between the trees.

Eventually darkness creates a blanket around the forest. There’s a soft glow from many lamps outside of cabin doors, but past that, the forest seems endless in the dark. It’s 10:30pm. Teachers are fast asleep. Students definitely are not.

You hear snickering coming from the plastics cabin. Their lights are still on, not that you care at all.

Since all the teachers are asleep you decide that it’s probably safe to sneak out and have a cigarette. You stand down the side of the cabin so that your silhouette is obscured slightly by a bush and hunt through your pockets for a lighter. Finally you light the cigarette, trying to blow the smoke downwind, away from the teachers window.

“Karen! Fuck! Would you just stop puking, shut up!”

You watch from the shadow as Karen falls out of the door and begins to heave into the bush next to their window. Gretchen follows quickly, shaking Karen by the shoulders, desperately trying to get her to shut up so they don’t wake anyone. Regina steps out too, slightly loosing balance and nearly falling down the steps after them.

Clearly they’re all drunk. Someone must have snuck alcohol in.

Regina tries to keep a composed look but you see panic flash across her face briefly as her eyes scan around them, watching for any witnesses. You stay completely still against the cabin wall.

Karen finally stops for a second and they grab her by the arms to try and get her back inside. Their balance isn’t very good either and on the way in Regina’s foot connects briefly with a terracotta plant pot which wobbles for a second and then crashes to the ground, smashing over the front step. A sound that cuts through the night air.

The light to the teachers cabin flicks on.

You quickly drop the cigarette and stomp it out before silently scrambling back into your room, making sure the door closes soundlessly, watching intently through the window.

Mrs Norbury storms over to the plastics lodge, already suspecting they caused the noise.

You can’t make out exactly what’s being said. There’s a lot of shouting, from both parties. Then Mrs Norbury leaves, and the plastics light goes off too.

You quickly get into bed. It’s unlikely anyone will check in on you, but you decide it’s time to sleep anyway, it’s late, and drift off to the sound of the wind through trees. The wind sounds faintly like a roar.

In the morning you shower and begin to get changed when there’s a knock at your door.

“Regina will be rooming with you for the rest of the week, make sure she doesn’t try sneaking out.”