#earn high score | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arachine · 1 year ago

Text

yes, i'm ready (to fall in love)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis: after reader is persuaded into putting herself back out there by long time friend, shoko, she successfully ends up scoring a date. unbeknownst to her, though, the gods have different plans—and one of them seems especially interested in her relationship with ex-husband, gojo satoru.

or in other words: a failed date results in a night of passion amongst former lovers.

── ˚₊✩‧₊ contents: 13.5k words, ex-husband!gojo + co-parent!gojo, slight dub-con (alcohol use), dumbification, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, unconventional form of contraception (pull-out method - don’t do this), pussy eating + one oc for the sake of plot

── ˚₊✩‧₊ note: i know this is really long and most people don’t have the attention span for it but PLEASE give it a chance! this is literally the longest piece of fiction i’ve ever written and i’m really proud of it :(

songs to listen to for best reading experience: donny hathaway - i love you more than you’ll ever know barbara mason - i’m ready partynextdoor - showing you bryson tiller - been that way

After you divorced your ex-husband, and decided to devote all of your time to being a mother, you never really considered getting back into the dating world. Not that you didn’t eventually want to settle down with someone new, but the dating world now was just so–different.

Different in the sense that meeting people organically was becoming increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like how it used to be in high school or college, and it really didn’t take that much effort then to get a man’s number by the end of your outing.

When you were in your early twenties, a brush of your hand on a man’s arm would’ve worked. An ‘accidental’ bump into someone at a grocery store or cafe might’ve ended in a quick lay. Using these tactics today, though, might earn you some weird looks–have–earned you some weird looks.

You’re on call with a friend from college when you begin recounting something embarrassing that happened to you recently. At first, the conversation started out about all of the professors you would’ve slept with (if given the chance), but then, one thing led to another, and she asked you something that made you wince:

“‘How’s your dating life been since, you know, Satoru?’”

There’s a heavy silence from your end, and she almost thinks you hung up.

“I mean, if you want to share,” she splurts, attempting to approach this gently, “I know that after the divorce, I wasn’t there for you like you needed, but I’d like to make up for that–if you’d let me.”

Shoko’s always been like that. Blunt and charismatic, but gentle and zephyr-light in the way she cares for those closest to her. It’s a trait of hers that you admire, because not so many people would care to treat your heart with such fragility.

“No, it’s okay. You can ask, you know, it’s not this secret thing,” you start, sighing before continuing, “it happened, and it was a mutual decision.”

Shoko hums on the other side, “Well, I’m still sorry. I let us go without talking for far too long…”

“Well, I accept your apology, even if it’s unwarranted. Like I said, it was mutual and…there wasn’t really an intense grieving period for me? The only thing that hurt me is that you distanced yourself. I mean, the girls did miss their aunt Shoko…” you say, trying to make her feel bad but not too bad.

“I know, I know, I’m a bad aunt,” she jests, then the tone shifts to something serious. “I think I was just scared because both of you were my best-friends. I didn’t want to ‘pick sides’, but I see now that it was a mutual decision, so I’m assuming you two are on good-terms?”

Again, you pause, “I mean, yeah. Satoru will always be my best friend. We may not be together romantically but he’s such an integral part of my life, I couldn’t do this–all of this–alone.” After you say it, you feel a weight being lifted off of your chest that you didn’t know was even there.

You think nobody would understand if you told them this. You think they’d question how a person could divorce someone who’s supposed to be their best-friend. And with the way you describe it, they’d probably think you were still in love with him. But Shoko’s different, she gets it. Which is why saying it to her came so easily.

“He is a great father,” she chimes in, “but you two rushed into it so quickly, I don’t think either of you had time to discover yourselves after college.”

Although she can’t see it, you smile. Because she gets it. Even if time did place itself in between the two of you, she was there for most of it, when things were still touch-and-go. When things were fresh, and clumsy.

“Exactly, that was our biggest gripe,” you admit, “We didn’t afford ourselves that time to grow, and I think that hindered our relationship. We weren’t husband and wife first, we were parents–and we were young, way too young.”

“You made it, though,” Shoko tries to brighten the mood, “you’re both amazing parents, and I know those beautiful girls that you created are lucky to have you.”

The intimacy of the conversation sends your emotions into overdrive. You quickly realize how much you missed her, how much you yearned to talk to her. To reconnect on this level.

A single tear cascades down your cheek, and you try not to sound like you’re crying when you say, “Ok, enough about that. You wanted to know about my shitty dating life, right?”

It happened last week, the grocery store incident. You were out picking up a few things for dinner when you spotted a cute guy standing outside of the aisle a few rows from you. He was fit beyond measure, in looks and strength, and was wandering around aimlessly in pursuit of red pepper flakes.

Coincidentally, you just happened to be in the seasoning aisle, and like the good samaritan you were, decided to personally hand-deliver it to him.

You wince as you vividly recall the embarrassing ordeal that ensued immediately after.

“Hey,” you peer from behind the aisle, with a bottle of red pepper flakes in tow. “I heard you mumbling about finding this, and you looked pretty lost, so I thought I’d pick ‘em out for you.”

The man’s brows furrow briefly before his lips up-turn into a grateful smile, “Oh, cool, thank you so much!” As quickly as the conversation started, it ends even quicker. He gives you a final nod of endearment before he’s turning around on his heels to resume his shopping.

“God, could he be any more dense? The men today really make you work for it, huh?” you mumble to yourself, pulling the bosom of your blouse down until a good amount of cleavage is on display. “Okay, alright. You got this, you got this. This always used to work, right? Yeah, men love boobs.”

Walking up to the man again, you try a different approach–a bolder approach. “Not to be a bother but I was wondering if I could-”

“Babe? Oh, there you are,” a new voice interjects. The owner of the voice emerges from around the corner and walks up to the man with a cart and a baby in tow. You’re stunned, to say the least. All you can do is stand there and blink in complete and utter dumbfoundment. As you remain in their presence, you take a moment to analyze the woman. She’s gorgeous, and toned. A real model-type broad, with feline-ish features that make so much sense paired with the man who appears to be her partner.

Oh, you think, and apparently say aloud, too. That’s when the woman turns to you, finally acknowledging your much smaller, and much quieter presence.

“Hi, can we help you?” she smiles, and it’s actually genuine. Toothy and perfect, and totally not jealous. You blink once, twice, before gathering your wits to answer her question.

“Yeah, uh, no. I actually, uhm, was helping your h-husband. He was looking for red pepper flakes,” you mutter embarrassedly, and point to the bottle in his hand. Upon further observation, you notice that she isn’t exactly wearing a ring. You find this odd, especially because his not wearing a ring is what encouraged you to pursue him. Carefully, you prod.

“If I may ask, how come neither of you are wearing rings?” The couple gives each other a look, one that makes you feel like the odd man out. A look that is universally known, and without a doubt, could easily be translated to: ‘did this chick really just ask that?’

Still, you smile as you wait for an answer. The woman takes the initiative. “Yeah, we don’t really believe in rings, isn’t that right, babe?” she says so matter-of-factly. You blink again for what seems like the thousandth time, because of all things, you did not expect that to come out of her mouth. Her husband is quick to validate her statement.

“Yeah, we think rings are unnecessary, you know? You don’t need a piece of metal to confirm your feelings,” he says walking to his partner’s side and wrapping an arm around her.

Disgustingly, the two give each other googly eyes before locking lips briefly. You can tell they’re the type to probably share this information with just about any soul who asks. Today, you just happened to be that unfortunate soul.

“Are you married?” she queries, tilting her head against her husband’s chest.

“I was, now we just…co-parent,” you purse your lips, ready for this entire interaction to be over. The woman frowns at your answer, and this time it’s not as genuine.

“Awe, well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was actually a mutual decision,” you quip.

“Okay,” she smiles, widening her eyes at her husband to signal a departure, “well, it was nice meeting you, and thank you for the red pepper flakes.”

The family turns away and heads to the front where check-out is. You don’t even buy the items you intended to purchase, just leave your cart in the middle of whatever aisle you abandoned it and leave the store.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t?” Shoko asks in horror. You nod your head, still forgetting she can’t see you and the way you’re sliding down against the wall.

“I did, and I shan't ever again,” a laugh erupts from your throat.

“I mean, fuck, are we getting old? ‘Don’t believe in rings,’” she mumbles, “Don’t believe in rings, my ass! Is this what the youth are doing these days? Not proposing with rings?”

Now that you think about it, you wonder how that would even work. “Yeah, right? I mean, how does that even work? ‘Will you marry me? But, actually, you should know I don’t have a ring for you, so people will have to guess that we’re together purely based on vibes and energy,’” you mock, in a not-so-great man voice.

Shoko’s laughing so hard by the end of your bit that she breaks the sound barrier, and the sound that makes on the phone sends you into your own fit of laughter. You laugh so hard it seems like a stream of pee comes out. Curse your developed incontinence after motherhood.

“God, you’re so stupid, I can’t breathe,” she says exasperatedly, and you know that on the other side she’s probably keeling over in her bed.

“Oh, please. I bet you haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, bitch.”

“I haven’t,” she cackles. This back-and-forth continues until the two of you settle down enough to continue discussing your (pee-inducing) love life.

“You tried any dating apps?”

It’s a simple and valid question, but it only makes you laugh even harder. You only stop when the other side of the line goes quiet. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. It’s what everyone’s doing these days! You’re not that old, you know.”

“Shut up,” you kid, “ it’s just that I never considered it. I mean, dating apps feel so impersonal. How serious do people even take it?”

“Sure, there’s people who use it for casual hook-ups and stuff, but a lot of people do come out of it with a relationship. Just don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“Oh?” you muse, curious. You wish Shoko could see your face, and the weird little dance your brows were doing. “Shoko, have you used a dating app before?”

The brunette kisses her teeth. “Can’t get anything past you.”

“Never.”

There’s a sense of hesitance but you encourage her to elaborate because ‘she became estranged from you for almost a decade and needed to pay her dues’. Sighing defeatedly, she eventually acquiesces.

“Fine, fine, maybe I’ve…been on a few dates,” she starts, “–and had a few one night stands, maybe more than a few, and maybe even dated a guy that turned into my stalker–”

“Ieiri Shoko! You naughty, naughty girl! Wait, stalker?”

“To make a long story short, I got a restraining order on that creep. Anyway,” she segues, attempting to change the subject, “We should make you a profile!”

For the rest of your phone call, Shoko guides you through all of the dating app basics. She offers her expert advice as you scroll through your camera roll for potential photos to use. You go through about a hundred before you finally settle on five that she really likes.

The one that she tells you to put first is a photo of you in a bikini. It’s a few years old but she says you look ‘radiant’ and that your ‘tits were practically spilling out of the cups’. Plus, for further consolation, she says most people on dating apps are liars.

“Everyone’s got at least one old photo on their profile, doesn’t make you a catfish,” she quips, “just means you’re a nostalgic person!”

“Right…”

The next one is a selfie. You’re smiling big in it, showing your gums, and it’s genuine. Shoko says guys like those types of photos because it shows them that you’re approachable. It also won her over because it’s fairly recent, too.

Out of all your photos, there’s only a select few that were taken within the year. You had to admit to her that you never really took photos of yourself anymore. Satoru took most of your candids. Still, she had a mission. And she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she stuck around to see your first match.

“After the selfie you should put the one of you with the girls.”

The picture she’s referring to is one Satoru also took. You remember that day fondly, and even now, the memories feel like a warm embrace.

about 8 years ago . . .

“Dad, mom, look! Hurry!” Hana, your oldest, shouts. Satoru and you are sitting on a blanket up on the sand dunes with Haruki, who’s trying her best to make a sand castle–to no avail.

“What is it, hon?” Satoru and you rush over to her, snatching toddler Haruki in the same breath. When you get to the scene, a flood of warmth washes over you upon discovering the ‘threat’.

“See, it’s baby turtles!” Hana’s squatting in the sand, watching with pure and unfettered fascination as the hatchlings crawl north to the ocean. When she looks up at you, with eyes so bright, and a smile so big that’s missing two of her front teeth, you want to cry.

“Oh, hon, that’s beautiful,” you gasp, lowering to your haunches so that you can join her. Satoru is about to follow suit before deciding at the last minute to go back to the blanket. When he returns, he snaps a picture unbeknownst to you. Eventually, though, you turn your gaze to him and he captures–what he used to think then–the ‘prettiest’ photo of you.

“You sneaking photos of me?” you squint, pointing at him. He trods closer until he’s standing above you. Then he snaps another. Your head’s tilted up, and you’ve got one eye open, and the other closed because of the sun. He always liked when you squinted like that because it made your nose do this cute little scrunch.

“Yup, ‘cause you’re my muse.”

You’re pulled out of your daydream when Shoko says your name on the other line.

“You still there?”

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Just what?” she queries, waiting for a response.

“I wanna use it, but my ex-husband took it. It feels weird, you know? And do I want to use a photo of me with the girls?”

“Hon, who cares if Satoru took the photo? It’s still a good photo, and to answer your second question, why wouldn’t you include a picture with your girls?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just afraid no one will be interested. Nothing about a picture of a mom with her two daughters exactly screams ‘fuck me’.”

Shoko lets out a small chuckle but you’re being serious. “Oh, sweetie. You’re so cute. Milfs are in these days, I don’t think I’m the one getting old, I think it’s just you!”

“Ha-ha, laugh at the mom,” you feign annoyance, but give her a laugh in return.

“But seriously, please use that photo. Nobody’s going to skip you just because you’re a mom. A lot of men on there have kids of their own, just gotta tweak your settings,” Shoko reassures you.

By the end of your call, the profile is set. You thank your old friend for the previous heart-to-heart conversation, and the time she spent helping you set up your profile.

“Keep me updated, and don’t talk about mom stuff, okay? Now, I’m not saying you can’t talk about them,” she begins, “but show these guys your personality! I know she’s in the closet somewhere hiding next to our old slutty clubbing clothes.”

Then, the both of you say your goodbyes and she wishes you a good-luck on your newly established dating journey. As you lay in your bed, you give your profile a final onceover. Not too bad, you think to yourself.

You ended up using all of the photos she had originally picked out for you. Even the beach photo. To compensate for your old photos, though, Shoko made sure that your prompts were witty and full of personality.

“I’d match me, I think. No, yeah, these are funny. She did a good job.”

The following day, you open your phone to fifty notifications from the dating app. A tingle of excitement shoots through your body from the tip of your toes, to the top of your head. It takes all of your might not to squeal in the office.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper at your desk. The amount of notifications that you initially saw on your homescreen read ‘50’ but when you opened the app, it showed you an overwhelming ‘100’ with a fat plus sign next to it. “Wait, are these all the people who liked me? Shoko’s gonna flip.”

Getting up from your chair, you make a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Not that you have to use it, but so you can scroll through all the potential prospects without your boss seeing you on your phone.

Pulling open the door to the bathroom, you close it shut behind you and lock it. A few minutes pass in the time you’re able to get through about half of the people who liked you. You end up skipping a lot of them. They’re either too young, too self-absorbed, creepy, or just downright not your type.

Some stick out, though. Even trick you into thinking they’re potential matches, but then the other shoe drops–because there’s always another shoe. You’ll scroll through their profiles, and they’ll seemingly have all the perfect traits: intelligent, witty, handsome, tall–and then, boom. You see their ‘don’t want kids’ preference. Every failed match only discourages you more and more.

It’s weird, because your profile preferences are set to ‘have kids’ and you even have a photo pictured with your girls. So why are men liking your profile despite that? After a few more scrolls, you’re just about ready to head back to your desk but then–you have a hit.

Your finger hovers over the ‘x’ at the bottom of the screen, then retracts. The guy’s profile at first impression is miles better than the rest, it’s almost too good to be true. His first photo is what piqued your interest. It’s of him posing for a silly photo with his sons, and he’s got his arms draped around their shoulders.

As you scroll down his profile, you see that there’s even more of him with his children. You take this as a green flag. He wants people to know he has kids, and that he isn’t embarrassed to show them off. You admire him for it.

The last few remaining photos are an amalgamation of selfies and full-body photos. To the average, well-adjusted adult, looks wouldn’t be a deal breaker. But he definitely wasn’t too bad on the eyes, and you were not complaining about that–especially, after the odd men you had to scroll through to get here. In other words, he was gorgeous and still fit despite being older than you (him, respectively being in his early forties).

Checking the time on your phone, you realize that you’re pushing your little ‘bathroom break’. Before heading back to your desk, you decide to respond to his first photo.

You: Cute! Could never get my girls to stand so still for a photo like this now haha :)

Work goes by slower than you’d like, but finishes up just in time when you get a notification from the dating app. You’re a little more excited than you’d care to admit. Tidying up your workspace, you say your goodbyes to your colleagues and head to the elevator. Absent-mindedly, you rush to answer his message but realize it won’t go through because of the elevator’s poor service.

Kazuki: Oh, they’re moody and grown now, don’t be fooled. I can't remember the last time I saw my youngest smile.

You don’t answer his reply until you get home. Actually, you do just about everything but answer his reply: check on the girls, shower, prepare dinner, pour a glass of wine–you’re nervous, and you don’t know why. But you know you should probably answer soon before he becomes disinterested. So you get comfortable in bed with your glass of wine and pull open his chat.

You: Lol, know that all too well. Kids are little assholes, aren’t they?

The speed in which he reads your text is startling, you don’t even have enough time to close out of the chat. Then, he responds.

Kazuki: Hell yeah they are!

Kazuki: Sometimes I want to strangle my youngest. He’s at that age where he’s starting to rebel and question everything. I told him he was supposed to be the ‘easy’ one, but his knucklehead brothers are bad influences on him…Tell me, does it ever get easier?

You: Sounds a lot like my oldest. She used to cling to me like a koala but now she’s the ring leader, and I’m the enemy. My youngest still loves her mama, though (for now lol).

You: And to answer your question, I’d like to think so?

You take a second before continuing your response. Shoko told you to keep the mom talk limited, but this seems to be working for you so far, and he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. So for once, you’re going to ignore her advice.

You: Kids go through phases. It's our job to reassure them that we’re not going anywhere. No matter how much they push us away or try to, that is :)

Kazuki’s chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. You think he’s deciding on what to say.

Kazuki: I can tell we’re gonna get along great. It’s nice opening up like this, you know? Talking to another parent. If I'm being honest, dating apps have always intimidated me…

Kazuki: People see kids as ‘baggage’, and it really bothers me. My kids aren’t baggage. They’re the best parts of me. And if someone doesn’t see that, then we have no business getting to know each other.

Kazuki: Sorry for getting all sappy. Just felt like I needed to say it.

His apology makes you frown. It feels like a breath of fresh air to hear someone talk about their kids so lovingly, because you feel the exact same way. You’re glad you downloaded the app, and you make a mental note to thank Shoko again later (after you debrief her about this).

You: Never apologize for speaking about your kids! And if we’re being absolutely transparent, that was my biggest gripe with downloading this app, too.

You: I’m so glad we matched each other. I’d like to get to know you more. And I’m hoping the feeling’s mutual?

Kazuki: It’s more than mutual.

Kazuki: Don’t want to get ahead of myself but how do you feel about dinner? There’s a cool high-scale restaurant in the city that I haven’t been to yet. Heard it’s got two Michelin stars despite opening up not too long ago.

The prospect of going on a sit-down dinner date has your stomach in knots. It’s been a hot minute since the last time you’ve done so, but you’re eager to know the man behind the screen on a more personal level. Plus, being treated to a high-scale restaurant with two Michelin stars doesn’t seem too bad either. You’re never one to turn down free dinner.

You: I’d love to, but how soon we talkin’? Gotta see if it’ll align with my schedule.

Kazuki: How’s this Friday at 8 sound? :)

The days leading up to Friday breeze by in a blur. For the majority of the week, it feels like you’re walking on cloud nine. Eventually, the conversation transitions from the dating app to exchanging phone numbers, and since then, the two of you have been texting back-and-forth everyday.

You talk about mundane things. Work, shows, movies, books you’ve recently read, what your kids are up to–but the other things? The other messages are flirty, and sexy, and filled with so much tension that it could cut a rope in half.

In between messages, the two of you have also exchanged a few photos. Nothing risqué or anything of that nature, just random photos of you throughout the day. The last one he sent was a few hours ago of him at work, captioned with: ‘Could this meeting be any longer?’.

You reply to the message with the ‘ha ha’ reaction, in consideration of not wanting to get him in trouble at work (even if he was the one who initiated the conversation). As the days go by, though, you make it a habit to update Shoko every step of the way.

Her first reaction to hearing about him was enthusiastic. That is, until you showed her screenshots from his profile. You vaguely remember her saying something that was meant as a compliment, but came out more like an insult.

“‘Oh, he’s a dad!” was her initial response, “oh, he’s a dad…and he really loves his kids. You’re meant for each other.’”

When you tried to ask her what she meant by that, she changed the subject. Every update since then has earned slightly more positive reactions, though.

Today, you ask her for more advice. Only this time, you’re on video call.

“Shokoooo,” you drawl, “our date is tomorrow! You have to help me find something to wear.” The panic in your voice is so palpable, she can almost feel your shaky hands through the screen. Flipping the camera, you hurriedly pan your phone around the closet.

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” she demonstrates first, before telling you to repeat the same motions. “Take me to that section over there–no, not that one–wait, yep, there.” You amble over to the area she’s directing you to through the phone.

“What’s that black little number right there?” She points. You prop the phone up on a shelf and scour through the section, tugging out a dress you haven’t seen in ages (which has you questioning how she even spotted it because it was pretty far back into the closet). Walking back into frame, you hold the fabric up to your body.

Shoko nods in approval, “That’s the one, babe. Try it on!”

It’d been about a decade since the last time you wore this dress. It’d also been about a decade since you were ever this small. Looking in the mirror, you run your hands over every surface inch, every crevice of the dress, in a newfound sense of appreciation for the adult weight you’ve gained since becoming a mother.

The dress was always stunning but it hugged everything perfectly even more so now. When you walk back into frame, your friend gives you a look of pure adoration. She’s so enthralled that she snaps a few screenshots for keepsaking.

“Thank god it’s Satoru’s turn to get the kids tonight,” she says, “‘cause you’re definitely getting some tonight.”

You roll your eyes, reminding her she’s on speaker phone. “Oh, please. It’s just dinner!”

“Not in that dress,” she retorts, wagging her finger in the camera. While the two of you continue to chat about the details of tonight, a knock on your bedroom door draws your attention.

“Mom, can I come in?” the voice sounds. It’s Haruki.

“Come in, hon!”

After you give the ok, you turn to Shoko and mouth to her to behave. Haruki turns the knob and enters, closing the door behind her. She sees you standing in front of the mirror before you see her, and silently utters a ‘wow’. You’re just about done putting your earrings in when you join her in the other room.

“What do you think, bun? Does your mom look hot?” you spin around, smoothing your hands down the length of the dress. You wait in anticipation for her approval, because if anyone could tell it like it is, it was always going to be a kid. Your Haruki was no exception.

“You look really pretty, Mom. I’m glad you’re going out tonight, I mean, you don’t really have friends so I think this will be good for you,” she elaborates, though you wish she would’ve stopped at the compliment.

Still, it puts a smile on your face to hear her verbalize that she’s okay with you doing something for yourself. You never quite discussed the prospect of getting back out there with your kids–and not even intentionally. It just never felt like the right time.

“You could’ve stopped at the compliment, punk!” you grab her, then wrap her in your arms, “but thank you. Love you, bun.”

“Love you more, mama.” Neither of you make the effort to pull away. Instead, you both stand there. Hugging, breathing, embracing each other’s warmth. You don’t always get hugs this good, so when you do, you savor it. Drag it out until your arms and legs get all tingly.

Or until someone interrupts. Another knock on the door. This time it’s Hana.

“Ew, what’s going on?” Hana feigns a look of disgust. You know she’s just jealous; she’ll never admit it, though. Which is why sometimes you have to force her to participate.

“Get over here,” you scrunch your nose, forcefully pulling her into your tight embrace. She tries to protest but eventually accepts defeat. You squeeze them both until they whine that they can’t breathe anymore. Then you squeeze them some more because this one’s for you.

“My special girls,” you breathe in, taking in all of their love. Soaking it all up so that tonight you have the courage to try again. To allow yourself a love of your own. When you let go, there’s a sniffle from the closet. It totally dawned on you that Shoko was still on the phone.

“They’re so big now, they don’t even know their auntie,” she fakes a sob, blowing her nose into a tissue.

“Mom, who’s on the phone?” Haruki queries with a confused expression etched onto her face. It suddenly dawns on you again that although you’ve been communicating with Shoko again, you haven’t exactly told them.

“Hey, you came in here to tell me something right, Han?” Your attempt to change the subject is poorly done, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you considering deflection has never quite been an ability you excelled at. Nonetheless, the look of suspicion they give you after is fleeting before they explain to you in unison that their father is here.

“Your father’s been waiting down there this whole time and nobody cared to tell me?” you whisper-yell, left eye twitching to emphasize your ill-preparedness. The girls only shrug their shoulders in response, like this was something you were just supposed to know.

“Well, you did force us into a hug and make us do all that Kumbaya stuff,” Hana mumbles under her breath.

“Okay, enough about all that. Are you guys all packed? Where are your bags? I don’t want your dad seeing–”

“You don’t want dad to see your date, right?” Hana raises a brow, all knowing. Sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. You want to blame that on the private schools Satoru had them enrolled in, but really you just know she’s just a menace in her own right. She learned that from him.

“I agree with the kid,” a voice chimes in. You rush to the closet and grab your phone from the shelf. There’s a huge, shit-eating grin on Shoko’s face. Somehow she’s responsible for this. You don’t know how yet, nor do you have proof, but you know it.

“Okay, thank you, love you, bye!” Before you can hang up, Shoko blurts something.

“Tell him I said hi,” she begins, “–andnottogetahardonwhenheseesyou!”

You hang up the call and roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself because of her idiocy. When you enter the corridor, you hear a faint sound of hushed voices from downstairs. It’s only when you round the bannister at the top, when those voices become discernible and louder.

You stop at the top, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like all the air in your lungs have expelled. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of what you’re wearing, and the fabric, and the way it clings to your body. Neither he, nor you, look away–you should, you want to, but you don’t.

And in the time the two of you gaze upon the other, time stops for a modicum of a second. In this second, you and him are the last two souls in the world. At least, that’s how it feels anyway before he breaks eye contact.

You shift your gaze shortly after, and put on a trained smile. Those eyes of his were always so intense. You guess you forgot over the years how easy it was to lose yourself in the crystalline pools of them. Gathering your wits, you resume your movements and saunter down the imperial staircase.

“Hey, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Sort of lost track of time, but I think the girls are all packed,” you say, your voice coming to a decrescendo upon noticing the way his eyes trail over your frame. They’re unreadable, though. Indifferent, and honestly, you’re not sure how to feel. So, you begin fidgeting uncomfortably with the rings around your finger.

Then, he smiles. It’s eerie and fake. “Not a problem, I haven’t been here too long. But, uh,” he begins ambling around the place, touching random objects around the living room, “Didn’t know you had plans. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with your colleagues?”

You furrow your brows, confused with his sudden interests in your plans. It wasn’t really like him to prod. “No, actually,” you rock back-and-forth on the balls of your heels, “i’m…i’m going on a date,” you finish with a pursed smile. He only nods his head in response, still walking around the place touching stuff, messing with the picture frames on the mantle. They’re all crooked now.

“How come this is the only picture you have up of me,” he asks suddenly. You know, that he knows, the answer to that. And he knows, that you know, you’ll indulge in his games anyway.

“The girls wanted them in their rooms. Why do you ask? You want me to go grab them and put ‘em all up around the house?” Again, he doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a final once over before heading back to the foyer to ask if the girls are all set to go.

“Yeah, but I can’t find my tablet, dad. Can I go look for it?” Haruki speaks up. “I thought I packed it.”

Satoru looks at the time on his watch, pinches the crease in between his brows. “Sure, kiddo. Can we make it quick, please?” He throws his hand in the air for emphasis, then points to his watch. Haruki nods, then runs up the stairs.

“Actually, you go on up too and help your sister. You guys are holding up dad,” you turn to Hana and gesture for her to head up with your head. She rolls her eyes, yelling up the stairs for her younger sister to ‘freaking hurry up’.

You and Satoru both turn to each other with wide eyes, laughing at the nerve of those children.

“They get that attitude from you, you know,” you point to him, driving your index finger into his bicep.

“You sure? Their mom’s got a pretty bad mouth on her, too. Or, have you forgotten?” He teases, bending his knees slightly to level his eyes with yours, intruding into your space. The smirk he dons is cheeky, too friendly–too inviting. You want to smack it off of him.

“Oh, shut u–” the sound of your phone chiming interrupts your banter. It’s a message from Kazuki, and you open it while Satoru stands over you. Probably close enough to read the message on his own if he wanted.

Kazuki: Hey, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can go through with tonight.

When you read the message, your heart drops into your stomach. There goes the other shoe, you think, fully embracing your pessimism. Who were you kidding, really? To think that tonight you’d go out and have a good time. Do something for yourself. It was stupidity.

Chat bubbles pop up on the screen. He has more to say.

He has more to say, and you’re fighting the urge to cry–to not shake out of sheer frustration while you’re still standing in front of Satoru. Because nothing would be worse than him seeing you can’t even land a date.

Kazuki: I recently just went through a divorce, and I know that I should have informed you about this before continuing our conversations…Especially since you’ve been so transparent with me about your own divorce and strife.

Kazuki: But if I’m being completely honest, I was scared. I genuinely wanted to see this through, at first. I wanted to forget about my ex-wife for just one night. But I realized I’ve been asking the impossible of myself…I’m still in love with her, and it’s because I’m in love with her that I won’t allow myself to lead you on any further.

Kazuki: I think we would’ve had a good time tonight. It's unfortunate we had to meet under such circumstances because you’re a really lovely woman, and I’m sorry an asshole is standing you up right now.

Kazuki: Take care. I know there’s a guy out there just waiting for his shot.

Satoru takes notice of the way your face drops as you read over the messages. Part of him wants to overstep his boundaries and take a peek at the screen. But he doesn’t. He gives you your space and takes a seat on the couch, waits for you to say something first.

In the meantime, he studies your face. Watches intently as your eyes become glossy the more you scan the messages, watches as your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hold back from crying. He thinks he knows what just happened.

Taking a deep breath, you lock your phone and put on another trained smile, “Well, looks like I’m staying in tonight.” Satoru dislikes when you do that. When you put on a fake smile and overcompensate to make others around you feel better, even when it’s so very obvious you aren’t. He wishes that sometimes you would just be selfish–act out.

And then you continue the façade. It makes his skin itch.

“I was too tired anyway, guess I can just catch up o–”

“Will you stop,” he spits, rising from his seat on the couch to stand. It comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesn’t regret it. You look at him like he’s got two heads as he walks over to the mantle and leans against it. His back is turned towards you, and the palms of his hands hold the crest of it. He uses it as leverage to rock on the heels of his feet. You can tell there’s something he wants to say because of the way his jaw ticks.

Satoru is never one to bite his tongue, so you’re not exactly sure why he’s choosing to be so restrained. If he wasn’t going to spit it out, you were going to poke. “What’s your problem?”

He chuckles at this, rubs his chin then pushes off the mantle to stand in front of you, gets all in your space again. The movement almost sends you back but you hold your ground, tilt your chin up at him and repeat the question. Slowly, this time with more venom.

“My problem? What’s your problem?” He breathes through his nose, his eyes flickering back-and-forth between your own. “Why do you always pretend like you’re not lonely? It’s okay if you were looking forward to having fun tonight. It’s okay to be upset and be mad at the asshole who stood you up!”

With every verbal prod at you, the gap between you decreases. His feet inch closer and closer to your own and force you to retreat farther until your back hits the wall. The coldness of it causes your breath to hitch, and you try to stay calm as Satoru encroaches more into your personal space. Being on the receiving end of his passion was always suffocating, you feel exposed under the intensity of his gaze–even more so as he continues to tear into you.

“Why do you even care?!” you cut him off, eyes wide and veins pumping full of adrenaline. “It’s not your place to be so invested in my life anymore! We’re not together, you don’t have to get so hot and bothered about things going shitty for me. I’m a big girl, and I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.”

By the time you finish, you’re a heaving, shaking mess. He takes this as a sign to withdraw from your space, and goes to sit back down on the couch. When you finally settle your nerves, you join him, leaving a foot of space in between you. There’s an awkward silence, one that wouldn’t have even happened if he just respected your boundaries in the first place. Now he feels like the asshole instead of the actual asshole who dumped you. Taking a hesitant breath, he decides to speak up.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…It wasn’t my intention to come off so strong like that,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t always have to pretend to be fine. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.” His eyes wander over to you reluctantly, like he’s scared that if he looks too long you’ll disengage from the conversation.

“It’s okay,” your voice is small, just above a whisper. You want to face him, but you know that if you do, you'll break into a million pieces. So you keep your gaze downward, busy yourself with the stray pieces of thread on the bottom of your dress. “You’re right, you know. I think I just…I think I just tell myself to expect disappointment so that when something bad happens, I’ll know it’s not because I got my hopes up.”

Satoru turns to you, and you can see him frown through your peripheral. Still, you don’t face him because you’re not done talking. But you thank him silently for listening without interrupting.

“Even though you’re right, I don’t appreciate the way you came on so strongly. We’re not married anymore, we’re not a couple–we’re co-parents. So if there’s something I want you to know about that’s outside of the scope of our kids, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, leave it alone.”

Satoru’s face softens. For once you’re being selfish, putting your foot down. This is the side of you he likes. “Okay. I respect that,” he says, “But can I ask you something?” The smile on his face is mirthful, like he’s got something else up his sleeves this evening. Skeptical, you finally face him with a raised brow.

“What?”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

You laugh in his face, even go as far as smacking his arm because you want him to know you found the joke really funny. He doesn’t budge, and that’s when you realize he’s being serious.

“Wait, what?”

“Let’s go to dinner,” he stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. You tilt your head in disbelief. You’re just waiting for someone to tell you you’re on that old reality show punk’d.

“Funny, I just poured my heart out to you and now you’re making fun of me,” you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance.

“I’m being serious,” he reassures, “you’re already dressed up. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” His eyes are twinkling with hope, and once again, you find yourself falling victim to their persuasiveness.

Being under Gojo Satoru’s gaze was suffocating.

Giving in, you ask, “So what are you gonna do? Drive all the way home to get dressed?”

The question is genuine, but the bastard just grins. “I’m a little hurt,” he throws a hand over his heart, “don’t you know me by now? I’m a businessman. I keep pressed blazers and slacks on me at all times.”

He swings his keys around his index finger, hoping that the promise of a spare change of clothes being in his car is enough to convince you to say yes.

“I don’t know…” you trail.

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Somehow he was able to persuade you into going out. After he changed into his spare clothes, you ended up telling your girls that there was gonna be a change of plans, and that they’d go home with their dad tomorrow.

Of course, before leaving, you made sure to leave some money on the table for pizza, and you also made sure to drill into their heads not to open the door for anyone except the delivery guy. You knew they knew the drill already, but it didn’t feel right to leave without saying it anyway.

“Be good, listen to your sister, she’s in charge,” you pinch Haruki’s cheek. Hana smirks, nodding her head in agreement with you.

“I will mom, I know,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“And you,” your finger wags at Hana, her smirk drops. “Don’t provoke your sister, be nice. Act like you love each other, please.”

“Fine, whatever. I guess,” she grabs the knob to the door, ready to kick the both of you out already. “So does this mean the two of you are back together, or?”

Satoru and you turn to each other before answering in unison, “No.”

“Okay, cool. Well, have fun,” she practically closes the door on the two of you, locking it after. Satoru is just as dumbfounded as you are, but then you break into a fit of laughter.

“Those kids, man.”

“Your kids!” you correct, pushing him playfully as the both of you walk down the pebbled pathway. He finds his equilibrium in time to unlock the car and open your side of the door. You pause before ducking inside.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” you jest, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“How could it be when I’m alive?” He says matter-of-factly, closing your side of the door. He taps the top of the car before sliding across the hood to the other side. Nice to see some things never changed.

When he gets inside and turns on the car, he puts his hand on the back of your seat to back out. The proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to physically refrain from letting your eyes linger on his jaw, and his arms, and the face he makes when he’s trying to concentrate.

You try to dispel these less-than-friendly thoughts by looking somewhere, anywhere else but him. But you can’t, and it’s irritating.

This is the second time tonight you’ve been this close, and it’s only this time that you realize something about him is…different. Earlier, he didn’t really smell like anything, but you quickly notice his smell has changed.

There’s a sort of piney scent coming from him. It’s not strong or obnoxious enough to blind your nostrils, but it’s enough for you to just barely pick up on it. You almost think it was premeditated, that he took the liberty of spritzing some on before walking you to the car. Before you separated, he’d made it a habit to wear variations of woody scents for you. If you can recall correctly, a passing comment you made about the cologne he was wearing that day is what sparked the habit.

Surely, this couldn’t be coincidental?

“You smell nice,” you blurt, filling in the silence.

Satoru glances at you, “Thank you.” You hate that from the corner of your eye, you can see his stupid little smirk growing bigger by the minute. He already had a big ego, it didn’t need to be stroked any more.

“Don’t let it go to your head, though. You usually smell pretty rank.”

“Ohhh, is that so? Guess I gotta start wearing this more often then, huh?”

“Sure, do what you want,” you say, trying to remain indifferent even though you’re failing terribly to hide your smile. When the car approaches a red light, you finally decide to ask the big question. “So where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he glances over, “Just know I’m good friends with the owner, so last minute reservations weren't a problem.”

The rest of the car ride is silent, save for the low hum of the music playing on the radio. When you arrive at the location, Satoru makes sure to walk all the way around to your side of the door again and open it. Immediately after, the two of you are greeted by a young male. He’s wearing a white button down, black slacks, and a black vest with a red tie. Judging by his appearance, you assume he’s a valet driver.

Satoru drops his keys in the driver’s hands, and escorts you towards the entrance. The boy bows and goes to park the car. Looking around, you start to wonder where exactly this place is supposed to be. The area is dark and secluded, and from where you stand outside, it doesn’t sound like there’s supposed to be a restaurant here. You don’t hear any voices, you don’t even see any security or other passerbyers.

Still, you follow behind him like a duckling, only coming to a halt when he leads you to a door taller than the both of you. He gestures for you to back up, then raises his knuckles to blow a strong, single knock. You’re taken by surprise when a set of angry eyes appear behind a slot in the door.

The pair of eyes first scan over you, then Satoru. A gruff voice is second to accompany them, “Where can I get a good drink?”

“I heard the bar down the street is nice,” Satoru answers. The hatch to the door closes, then swings open the door, and the man behind it moves aside to welcome you in.

“Follow me, please.” Once he closes the door, he begins guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. After making what seems like your hundredth turn, you eventually reach a staircase. The man gestures for you to go on ahead, and you think this is him implying where the three of you will depart.

“Thank you,” you say softly, disappearing down the stairs. Satoru isn’t too far behind, keeping a pace between you. As you near the end of the long, narrow hallway, a stream of white light brightens up your whole path. It leads you down to another door like a beacon of light, and when you reach it, you can hear voices, live music, and dishes clanking on the other side. It’s bustling with life. A huge, joyous smile plasters across your face. It’s almost child-like in appearance, like you haven’t seen something this cool in a long time.

Satoru stands beside you and winks. “What d’ya think? Any idea yet where we are?”

“I think this is fucking cool, and hm,” you take a second to mull it over, “are we at a speakeasy?”

“Smart girl. Now come on.” Stepping back, you allow him to pull open the door, and when he does, there isn’t a word to describe the atmosphere of the place you step into. All you can do is stand there in astonishment. Before long, a man walks up to you.

“Welcome, what is the name you reserved under?”

“Gojo.”

Nodding, the host instructs you to follow after him. He leads you to a private seating area, somewhere far in the back that’s secluded from the other patrons. The space is much bigger, and much more extravagant. You know you’re only sitting way back here because Satoru is who he is. And in all the years you’ve known him, his connections were just another party trick in his arsenal.

The hostess seats you, then Satoru, and tells you that a waiter will be with you shortly.

“This is nice, really nice, but is it–”

“Legal?” he finishes your sentence, “don’t worry. It’s a modern speakeasy-style restaurant. There’s nothing illegal going on here, promise.”

While you wait for your designated waiter, your focus shifts from the man in front of you to the man singing on the stage. Up until now, his voice was white noise in the background, but then he started singing a tune scarily reminiscent of your past–and your breath catches in your throat.

If I ever leave you, baby

You can say I told you so

And if I ever hurt you

You know, I hurt myself…

Turning your gaze back to Satoru, you squint your eyes mirthfully in disbelief. You wonder if this is just a funny coincidence, if this is the universe playing her tricks, but you know deep down, that coincidences and Gojo Satoru don’t belong in the same sentence.

You open your mouth to speak, but quickly close it when you see the waiter approaching from the corner of your eye. He greets the both of you with a polite smile, then sets down two glasses of water.

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for the night,” he says, placing a menu in front of you, “Can I get you fine folks started off with a bottle of wine?”

Satoru nods, tells him to bring the best bottle of red they have and then gestures for him to come closer so that he can whisper something in his ear. All the while, you sit back in your seat observing, clicking your nails on the table until the server pulls back and bows.

When he departs, you immediately lean in over the table, and ask, “Just how much time did you have to plan all of this?”

Satoru feigns aloofness, taking a sip of his water, “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, gesturing at the stage with your eyes. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, he goes, “Oh, that? Yeah, I had nothing to do with that. But isn’t it funny they’re playing our old song?”

Now he’s smirking, with his elbow leaning back on the chair, and a gaze so piercing, you’re certain you’ll crumble into nothing unless you look away. So you do, avert your gaze back to the stage and sway calmly.

Is that any way for a man to carry on

Do you think I want my loved one gone

Said I love you

More than you’ll ever know

“So funny,” you counter.

Eventually, the server comes back with a bottle. “1982 Chateau Latife Rothschild,” he holds it out to present, “Is this alright?”

Despite the years spent with Satoru, and the many elitist events you often attended with him, your knowledge on wine had never surpassed anything but surface level. You knew the difference between good wine and cheap wine was the taste, but your taste buds had grown accustomed to store-bought, so if anything, store-bought tasted like heaven to you. Anyway, though, you nod your head and urge him to pour a glass.

“Thank you,” you smile, before gently swirling the glass and bringing it up to your nose to smell (something you only know to do after being the odd man out at so many company banquets). Satoru waits for you to sip your glass before he sips his. The way you melt into your seat is a silent assurance that you’re pleased.

“This is great, you’re amazing,” you tell the server, who seems pleased by your compliment.

“Glad to be of service, miss. Are you ready to order?”

Dinner goes by smoothly. In fact, it goes by so smoothly, you and Satoru finish the entire bottle of wine. Now you sit at the table, bellies full, faces flushed and sore from laughing, and now you find yourself telling him about the grocery store incident. If you had half a mind (a sober one), you’d shut up right this second to save yourself from the embarrassment. But you don’t. And Satoru’s very persuasive when you’re tipsy.

“Keep going,” he leans in, hand nestled under his chin. He’s completely invested in the story. Actually, as soon as he heard the words ‘store’ and ‘cute guy’, he just had to know more. And you begging him to change the subject didn’t help, not when the sadist in him loved to see you so embarrassed.

“Fine,” you hiccup, “It was so - so bad, Toru.” He doesn’t miss the way you slip and call him by the nickname you’d always reserved for him. It makes his heart race, and god, does he miss the way it sounds spilling from your lips. But he ignores the feeling, and refocuses on your story instead. Which, by the way, was proving to be a task in itself because his eyes couldn’t stop drifting back down to your lips. So soft, so–

“And then she said ‘we don’t believe in rings,’” you whisper, fist coming down on the table. The sound it makes nearly sobers you up, and you realize just how loud you’re being despite your table being secluded from others. Giggling like a kid, you continue, “I mean, how fucking insane is that?!”

“Something as bizarre as that could only ever happen to you,” he replies, laughing along with you, “those people were crazy.”

“The craziest,” you agree, throwing your head back in another fit of laughter. Gradually, the two of you begin to settle down, and once again, you find your attention being drawn back to the man on the stage. Only this time, he’s making an announcement.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight I’ve got a special request,” he says, looking out into the audience. Looking at you. “This one’s for a very special lady who, from what I’ve been told, is a great mother that needs to start doing things for herself.”

The singer steps out of the spotlight and hands the note to a server. Your server. Then he begins to sing, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It was your wedding song.

[...] I don’t even know how to love you

Just the way you want me to

But I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

Yes, I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

“Now this one? This one was me,” Satoru leans forward, and you swiftly turn your head to face him. He smiles as he watches your face go through ten different emotions before ultimately softening. It warms your heart to see how incredibly planned this evening was, despite the amount of time he was given to work with. Even so, it kind of scares you–because then that meant this was a grand gesture–that this was his way of saying something. And you weren’t too sure if you wanted to hear it. Your gaze drops to your lap, and Satoru frowns.

To fall in love

To fall in love with you…

“Look at me,” he says softly, but you don’t. “Hey, look at me.” He reaches over the table to take your chin in between his fingers. The touch alone feels electric. Sends liquid hot lightning down the column of your spine. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and like always, it’s suffocating. They’re so wide with hope, and so, so gentle in the way they hold you. The longer you gaze upon them, the more you convince yourself it’ll be okay if you surrender to them.

“It’s been years since we’ve divorced,” his voice is shaky, almost strained, like he’s actively thinking how to choose his words carefully, “and when we sat down that night, I thought it was what I wanted, too, you know? And for a while, it was,” he reaches a hand across the table to rest atop your own, “but you gotta know…you gotta know–you’re it for me. There’s no one else on this Earth that I want to start over with. You’ve always been the beginning and end of my story, and I’ll be damned if I let another man start one with you.”

Your heart is beating faster than you can even process what he’s saying. The only thing you’re focused on is not passing out in the middle of this damn restaurant. But then he’s squeezing your hand, and your focus is drawn back to those piercing, pale blues that even put crystals to shame.

“So what do you say?” he says, so softly, so tender. “Can we try again?”

Waiting for your reply, he squeezes your hand again. It’s like your soul is wandering the line between death and the living, and his touch is the tether that brings you back. In the background, the tune of the song sung at your wedding gives you a push of courage.

I don’t even know how to kiss your lips (kiss your lips)

At a moment like this

But I’m going to learn how to do

All the things you want me to

Yes, I’m ready

(Are you ready?) Yes, I’m ready

To fall in love

To fall in love right now

“Yes.”

The walk back to the car is hurried. Aided by both, years and years of built up tension, and the liquid courage currently bubbling in your systems.

The race back to his apartment is even faster. You thank the gods silently that it’s within close proximity to where you just were.

Once you get there, make your way past the doorman and concierge (who both give the two of you a knowing look), go up the elevator, and finally get into his loft–it’s over. Years of restraint, years of pretending, wanting–yearning, come crashing down.

There’s barely any time to close the door before he’s pushing you against it. His lips trail down the column of your neck, then come up to kiss your jaw, until eventually, they find your lips. And when they do, it’s instantaneous–that familiar feeling, the feeling that feels almost like falling.

Once again, for what felt like centuries, you feel again the rush of helplessness. The push and pull of the tide. It brings you down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor, and it’s unmerciful.

Kissing Satoru is like being shocked with ten thousand volts of energy. Like all this time you’ve spent not kissing him, has been costing you your life, and he’s the only one who can deliver you salvation. It’s all teeth and tongue for a minute. Messy, and sticky, and nasty. A true testament to the desperation brewing in the pits of both your stomachs.

The sensation of it all has your knees going slack, and that’s when he says–

“Jump.”

Obeying, you do just that. Jump right into his arms, and wrap your legs around his torso like you’ve done so many times before. The way you feel now is the way you used to feel before then, too. Like you were made to fit like this. To be held in his arms like you were molded from the same clay.

Carefully, he adjusts his grip on your body. Keeps his palms planted on the bottoms of your ass, and begins the trek to his room. He struggles a bit getting there because you haven’t stopped kissing since entering the apartment, but he figures it out after a stumble or two (which resulted in a bitten lip and you apologizing profusely through giggles).

“The turbulence up here is crazy, don’t blame me, blame the pilot,” you jest, kissing down his neck to make up for it.

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” he jokes back. As soon as he gets to the bed, he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You try to bring him down to your height but he stops you, wags his finger in your face playfully before using it to push you back into the bed. His fingers start to play with the fabric of your dress, and then his face takes on an indifferent expression. The same one from earlier that night when he first saw you walking down the stairs.

“Can’t believe you were gonna wear this for him…” he trails, lifting the fabric up slowly, eyeing you while doing so, “as if this dress doesn’t mean something.”

Of course, when Shoko chose it, its significance did make you falter–but in your defense, not once did you ever anticipate for him to see you in it. And you especially didn’t expect for him to remember it, the last time you wore it was almost a decade ago.

“I didn’t…” you start, a smile creeping on your lips, “think you remembered?”

“‘Course I did, how could I not?” He says more sharply than intended, taking offense. He takes offense because he spent the better half of the night showing you he remembered. The little things and everything else in between. Couldn’t you see that?

“It was our 4th anniversary. Bought you this dress and fucked you in it that same night. Funny how the second time I’m seeing you in this dress, the circumstances are the same except only this time we’re divorced,” he says, crawling over your body. “Guess I gotta show you just how much I remember.”

With that, he slips a hand under your dress, pulls your panties to the side and runs a finger down your slit. Oh-so-willingly, do you spread your legs for him. It’s almost subconscious, the way your body responds to him. And he revels in it. Lets his fingers work you, feel you, bring you to ecstasy. Then he heightens your pleasure tenfold when he kisses his way down your body, and takes a seat before you on his knees.

Unceremoniously, he pulls your body to the edge of the bed. Takes his time slipping your panties down the length of your legs, then kisses the insides of your thighs, before finally stopping at your mound.

Slowly, he lowers himself to your cunt, kisses your clit softly. Once, twice, three times. The pace in which he’s moving is killing you, to say the least. But you know he’s savoring the moment, making up for all the years he spent not kneeling like this between your legs. So you let him; let him caress you all over before he comes seeking the honey-sweet salvation dripping from your core.

The second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you find yourself clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. “Fuck, Toruuuu,” you drawl, back arching off the bed. Pleased with his abilities, he smiles smugly, using this as an opportunity to push himself even deeper. Up and down, he licks at your slit, uses his fingers in tandem with his tongue to prod at that spongy spot he knows you love.

“Tastes,” a harsh suck, “so good,” another, “better than I remember.”

You know he’s talking, but his words fall on deaf ears. You’re so caught up in your own high, you don’t even take notice of the obscene sloshing sounds coming from your pussy, or the moans you’re making. All you can do is lay there and take it as he takes, and takes, and takes from you.

Soon, you find your orgasm cutting through you like a knife, and you come with a strangled cry that has you biting back tears. Satoru talks you through the whole thing. He lays his head down on your thigh and continues working you with his fingers until you start to shake from the overstimulation.

For a few, you lay and stare at the ceiling. You think you can see the Milky Way–and all the constellations that make it up. It feels like your soul is floating beyond your physical body, and you don’t come back down to Earth until a sharp, stinging sensation brings you back. Did he just?

“Did you just bite me?” you lift your head, peering down to see the evidence. In all its glory, there it was; a red ring smack-dab in the inside of your thigh with teeth imprints. Looking at Satoru, he grins.

“Had to get you back from earlier,” he says, sitting back on his knees. You attempt to kick him with your foot, but he grabs hold of it. Pretending to be wounded, he gasps, “Is this how you treat the man who just gave you a soul-shattering orgasm?”

You roll your eyes, but to your dismay, it only encourages him to continue.

“Fuck, Toru,” he mimics, “oh my god, Toru. You fuck me so goo–”

“Alright, enough!” you manage to kick him this time, laughing as you bring up your hands to cover your face. “Keep carrying on like that and I won’t let you fuck me…” You’re serious in your bite, but he’s smirking. Like he knows you’re full of bullshit.

“Yeah right. You and I both know I make you feel too good.”

Feeling bested, you scoff, though, there’s no real weight behind it. While he begins to remove his shirt, you sit up and replace his hands. He relinquishes control and allows you to unbutton it until the item falls haphazardly to the floor.

He’s so beautiful, you think. Still so chiseled, so perfect after all these years since you’ve last seen him like this. At his most vulnerable. The only difference now is that there are more freckles littered across his skin. Back then, he’d say they were signs of aging, and he’d hate them.

But he’s older now. More mature. So much so that he even winks at you when you trace your fingertips over them.

“They suit you,” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, “mhm.”

Continuing your ministrations, you begin removing his belt. He holds your gaze the entire time it takes for you to unzip his pants and pull them down–and he doesn’t once shy away when you discover the wet spot on the front of his briefs. Slowly, delicately, you remove the soiled item and let it fall down to the floor with the rest of his clothes.

Still looking at him, you take hold of his length and fist him once, twice, experimentally. A dribble of pre oozes from his slit and you bring it to your mouth. All the air in his lungs expel into the air when you lick it off with your tongue, and god, he thinks he could come from that alone.

God, he’s missed you. Missed your touch, your lips–the way you hold him with your eyes like he’s something worth being gentle with. Nothing could ever compare to you, not even his own hand.

As soon as you’re about to take him in your mouth, he stops you. Pushes you back down onto the bed and slots himself between your legs. “No more playing, I’m tired of playing,” he breathes, lowering himself down until half of his weight is on top of you.

Guiding his cock to your entrance, he pushes past your folds with little resistance. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him in has his arms wobbling like jelly, but he musters enough strength somehow to stay up. You, on the other hand, are close to tears.

The more he eases himself in, the more you feel like you’re being stretched open (despite him previously prepping you). If you were being truthful, this wasn’t a complete shock to you. You’ve known that he’s always been big, but something about tonight feels different. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve had something more than just your own fingers.

Even so, you try your best to ignore the burn of the stretch. You throw your arms around his neck and invite him deeper into you, hooking your legs around him so tightly that it renders his limbs useless. For a minute, all you can feel is the weight of him inside of you, and his chest against yours as they rise and fall asynchronously.

“Toru,” your voice is just barely above a whisper, but enough to make the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. “Make love to me.”

Heeding your request, he begins moving. Painfully slow, he unsheathes himself from you until only the head of his cock is inside, then pushes himself all the way back in with force. Again, and again, he repeats this motion. Pulls out, pushes in. Pulls out, pushes in, until he decides to increase his pace and set a steady rhythm.

Every thrust into you is meticulously calculated. Sharp, and forceful, and not once does he disrupt the rhythm. He listens carefully to the sounds you make. Even listens to the way your breath hitches when he hits a spot right. Everything he’s doing is perfect–and it’s to no surprise. Deep down, you know that Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand. He’d know it if you were all old and wrinkly. He’d know it if his soul reincarnated. Hell, he’d know it blind.

“Missed this,” he grunts, burying his head into the interstice of your neck, “missed you,” a kiss to your neck, “missed us.”

The veracity of his words render you speechless. He’s already professed his feelings for you tonight, but it feels even more real now that you’re beneath him. To be loved by Gojo Satoru was a feeling many couldn’t say they had the consolation of knowing. Only a few in his circle could hold that position–but only one person in this world could truly ever know his love to its fullest extent. You.

Satoru continues his mindless rambling, “I love you,” a thrust, “it’s always been you,” another, “was always going to be you.” Leaning back on his heels, he pushes your dress all the way up to reveal your breasts. Now it’s him who sits back and admires this time. As if he were reacquainting himself, he traces the planes and pastures of your chest with an eager hand. He runs it up and over each mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh experimentally.

Then, he dips down and kisses the space between them. Sucks and licks until the skin bruises, and he has evidence to prove tonight actually happened. Eventually, he withdraws from your chest and returns his focus on easing his cock in and out of your cunt.

“So beautiful,” he says, but it’s more to himself than anything. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, he doesn’t even think you can hear him. “Want you to cum on my cock, know you can do it, baby. Know you can,” he grunts, taking your hand and intertwining it with his own. Letting his head fall into your neck, he begins to quicken his pace. Fucks into you with everything he’s got and willing to give.

“Toru,” you finally manage to say, “‘m so close, keep going. Do it - do it inside.”

Do it inside. Do it inside. Do it inside. The thought is tempting, too tempting. It makes his dick twitch inside of you, and he swears if you say it again, he’ll actually do it. But he knows better than to listen to anything you say out of delirium.

“Trust me, sweet girl,” he cradles your face, to which you lean into, “I want to - I want to so fucking badly. But we both know you’d regret it later.”

Whining, your lips form into a pout, and the sight is so cute, he can’t help but to kiss it off of you. Compared to your kiss earlier, this one is much sweeter. Slower. More relaxed. He kisses you with the intent of making you dizzier than you already are, and it’s scary. Even so, you don’t pull away. You allow him to drink you up. Like your lips are the only source of water around, and he’s been quenched for days.

Finally, with a few more thrusts, you reach your climax. The pressure building in the pit of your belly pops like a balloon, and everything goes white. “Toru!” you shriek, arching off the bed and trembling in his grasp.

Using your arch as leverage, he keeps his hands underneath your back and continues to ram into you without abandon. You’re a babbling, wet mess at this point, and your cunt squeezing around him only encourages him more.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna - ‘m gonna,” he curses, balls beginning to tighten. Quickly, he unsheathes himself and fists himself the rest of the way. With an impassioned moan, he climaxes–spurting thick, white, ropes of seed all over your abdomen. Then, falls onto your limp body with a grunt, chest heaving rapidly, and slick with perspiration.

By this time, you’ve settled down enough to form a proper sentence. “That was…”

Satoru huffs, catching his breath. “Yeah.”

Still spent, he continues to lay atop you. And you, having nowhere else to go, let him. The two of you lay comfortably in silence like this for a long time. Just you tracing shapes into his back, and him purring into your neck. Both of you know you should be getting up, but neither of you make an effort to do so. In this moment, time is transcendent. There is no rush to move when time stands still for you.

Soon, that silence is broken.

“I love you,” you say, and there’s no elaboration. Not even a recant. In fact, you say it so nonchalantly, he’s not even sure it was real. You say it like you’ve never been more certain in your life, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do.

“Really?” he queries, almost pathetically like the mere idea of you loving him is something unattainable. You look at him like he’s got two heads.

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. I’ve always loved you,” you admit, pausing your ministrations on his back, “I just had to relearn how to love you.” He smiles at this, hums into your neck to keep from crying.

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he mumbles into your neck, “so where do we go from here?”

“From here we take it slow. We’ll learn together what it means to be individuals, and then from there we’ll see where it goes,” you say matter-of-factly, “no more repeating past mistakes.”

“Agreed,” he nods, “what will we tell the girls?”

That’s when your eyes widen and you sit up, forcefully pushing Satoru off of you.

“What did I say, what’s wrong?” he queries, sitting up on the bed. He watches you rummage around the room maniacally, head on a swivel as you run out of the room and return with a purse. You pull your phone out to see a slew of missed calls and messages.

“We forgot to call the girls!” You yell, showing him your phone screen of missed calls. Gojo jumps up to join you, one leg already sliding into his pants.

“Shit!”

Noticing the state of your appearance, you pinch the skin between your brows. “Satoru, I can’t wear this! You got cum all over it,” you groan, pointing to all the splotches of white. He tells you to wait a second before disappearing into his closet, then he comes back with a fist of clothes and throws it at you.

“I can’t wear this either, they’ll wonder why I’m wearing your clothes!”

Satoru runs to you and pull the dress off of your body, “We’ll wash it!” he screams, disappearing again out of the room, and to where you imagine, the laundry room. When he returns, he’s out of breath and panting. It’s only then do you realize how insane he looks with half his shirt buttoned, and his pants twisted around his hips. A giggle escapes your lips.

“What are you laughing at? Chop chop,” he claps, ushering you into his bathroom.

Yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this idiot.

comments + reblogs very appreciated !!!

#art by: @yamada_souko (twt)#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk smut

8K notes · View notes

batboyblog · 3 months ago

Text

Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #36

September 27-October 4 2024

President Biden and Vice-President Harris have lead the federal response to Hurricane Helene. President Biden's leadership earned praise from the Republican Governors of South Carolina, Virginia, Tennessee, and Georgia, as well as the Democratic Governor of North Carolina and local leaders. Thousands of federal workers are on the ground in effected communities having given out to date over 8 million meals, over 7 million letters of water. Both President Biden and Vice-President Harris have been on the ground in resent days meeting with effected families. During her trip to Georgia Vice-President Harris announced that the federal government will reimburse state and local government 100% of the costs from Hurricane Helene.

A strike by the International Longshoremen’s Association that briefly shut down ports on the East Cost and Gulf ended in a tentative deal. Both sides thanked Acting Secretary of Labor Julie Su and Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttigieg for helping push the deal through. President Biden and Vice-President Harris had expressed solidarity with the works when the strike was announced and President Biden directed Secretary Buttigieg to take the lead in pressuring management to make a deal with the Longshoremen. The ILA got a 62% raise as part of the agreement.

Vice President Harris announced new actions to help those struggling with medical debt. This actions include new standards from the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau on debt collection. the CFPB plans on requiring debt collectors to confirm debts are valid and accurate before engaging in collection actions. As well as cracking down on debt collectors that collect on debt that is not owed by patients. Other actions included an announcement by the DoD that it was reducing pricing for civilians who get medical treatment at DoD hospitals and a track down on tax-exempt hospitals who are required by law to offer financial assistance but often do not. These steps come after Vice President Harris in June announced plans to remove medical debt from credit scores. Following the Vice President's call to action North Carolina moved forward a plan to eliminate medical debt for 2 million people in the state. President Biden's American Rescue Plan funds have been used by state and local Democrats to eliminate $7 billion dollars in medical debt.

The Department of Transportation announced $62 Billion in infrastructure funding for 2025. Thanks to the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law passed by President Biden this will be $18 billion dollars more than was spent in 2021. The Biden-Harris Admin has helped support over 60,000 infrastructure projects across all 50 states, rebuilding roads and bridges, breaking ground on America's first high speed rail, updating ports and airports, and breaking high speed internet to rural communities.

The Department of Transportation announced $1 Billion dollars of investment in America's passenger rail future. This comes on top of $8.2 billion in investments announced in December 2023. The funds will help expand and modernize intercity passenger rail nationwide.

The Departments of Energy and Agriculture announced a $2.8 billion joint project to bring 100% carbon pollution-free energy to the rural midwest. The DoE is investing $1.5 billion into helping bring the Palisades Nuclear Plant in Michigan back on-line. Shut down in 2022 plans to refit and reopen it to allow the plant to keep generating clean energy till 2051. Once back online the Palisades Nuclear Plant will help stop an anticipated 4.47 million metric tons of greenhouse gas emissions a year, or 111 million metric tons of greenhouse gas emissions over its lifetime. The USDA is investing $1.3 billion in two rural electric cooperatives, Wolverine Power Cooperative and Hoosier Energy, which cover rural communities in Michigan, Illinois, and Indiana. This investment will help Wolverine and Hoosier connect to the Palisades Plant, reduce prices for customers, and reduce climate pollution, putting Wolverine Power on the path to be 100 percent carbon-free energy before 2030.

The Treasury and the IRS announced that 30 million Americans, across 24 states will qualify for free direct filing of their taxes in 2025. The IRS says that the average American spends $270 dollars and 13 hours filing their taxes. Thanks to the Inflation Reduction Act, passed by President Biden with Vice President Harris' tie breaking vote, Americans will be able to file their taxes quickly and for free directly with the IRS. Tax payers in Alaska, Arizona, California, Connecticut, Florida, Idaho, Kansas, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Washington, Wisconsin, and Wyoming will in 2025 be able to use direct file.

The USDA announced $7.7 billion in funding for Climate-Smart Practices on Agricultural Lands. This represents the single biggest investment in these programs in USDA history. Since implementation began in 2023 this conservation assistance has helped over 28,500 farmers and ranchers apply conservation to 361 million acres of land.

The Department of Energy announced $1.5 billion in investments in transmission infrastructure to help ensure our grid is reliable and resilient. This will help support nearly 1,000 miles of new transmission lines across Louisiana, Maine, Mississippi, New Mexico, Oklahoma, and Texas. These lines will bring 7,100 MW of new capacity and create 9,000 good paying union jobs. Studies find to keep up with growth and meet our climate goals of carbon free energy the US will need to triple the 2020 transmission capacity by 2050. This is an important step to meeting that goal.

#Thanks Biden #Joe Biden #kamala harris #Politics #US politics #American Politics #climate change #climate action #carolina hurricanes #unions #longshoremen #rail #taxes

1K notes · View notes

rafecameronssl4t · 8 days ago

Text

Centre court || Tennis player!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron shines at the Australian Open, drawing strength from his girlfriend’s support, a heartfelt moment that captivates the crowd and fuels his victory.

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 1,392

A/n: the last time I wrote tennis player!rafe was early on when I first started this acc 🥲 and if you guys didn’t already know, I’m from Australia and in in honour of the Aus Open coming up (CANT WAIT) I wrote this :)

MASTERLIST

The Melbourne sun was merciless, casting a blazing glow over the Rod Laver Arena as thousands of fans packed the stands, eagerly anticipating the quarterfinal match between Rafe Cameron and his opponent, a seasoned and formidable Spaniard. The crowd buzzed with excitement, a palpable energy rippling through the stadium as both players warmed up on the court.

You sat in the player’s box, perched beside Rafe’s coach, a seasoned man with an intense focus, and his small team. Clad in a flora dress that fluttered in the occasional breeze and oversized sunglasses, you exuded effortless grace. Your presence was impossible to ignore, but you kept your attention solely on Rafe.

His golden hair was damp with sweat under his cap, and his sharp, determined expression made your heart swell with pride. This was Rafe’s moment. You could see the fire in his blue eyes, his posture taut with focus and ambition. As the match began, Rafe dominated the first set, his serves slicing through the air with precision.

You clapped politely after every point he scored, your smile soft yet brimming with pride. When he glanced up at his box after an impressive ace, you gave him a subtle nod, silently cheering him on. He didn’t smile, his game face unbroken, but you knew the gesture was his way of acknowledging you.

The second set was harder. His opponent, known for his relentless stamina, began to claw his way back into the game, chasing every ball with tireless energy. The crowd grew louder with each rally, their cheers and groans echoing through the arena. You leaned forward in your seat, gripping the armrest, willing Rafe to push through.

You couldn’t help but admire the raw power in his strokes and the elegance of his movements. He played with a passion that was magnetic, and it reminded you why you’d fallen for him in the first place—not just because he was talented, but because of his unwavering determination. Then, it happened.

During a crucial rally, Rafe hit a forehand that kissed the baseline, winning the point and earning a roar from the crowd. But as he walked back to the baseline to serve, the camera operators made a choice that would change the mood of the match entirely. The stadium’s giant screen cut to you, sitting poised and radiant, your gaze locked on Rafe with a mix of love, pride, and awe.

You weren’t even aware of the camera; your expression was natural, your emotions written all over your face. The crowd erupted. Cheers and whistles filled the air, loud and relentless, causing even the players on court to pause in confusion. Rafe stopped mid-serve, glancing around with furrowed brows. His opponent looked equally baffled, exchanging a look with the umpire, who leaned forward to figure out what had caused the commotion.

It wasn’t until Rafe turned his eyes to the big screen that he understood. There you were, larger than life, your every detail captured in high definition. The way the sun danced off your hair, the curve of your lips as you smiled slightly, the love in your eyes—it was enough to leave the crowd in awe. Rafe’s expression softened, his confusion melting into something else entirely.

His lips curved into the faintest smile, a rare crack in his composed demeanour. The crowd’s cheers only grew louder at his reaction, and even his opponent chuckled, shaking his head as if to say, Lucky guy. You finally noticed the screen and gasped, your cheeks flushing a deep pink. You turned to Rafe’s coach in embarrassment, but he laughed, patting your hand.

“Seems like you’ve stolen the show,” he teased. Rafe, ever the professional, quickly refocused, shaking his head and smirking before stepping back to serve again. But you noticed the slight extra spring in his step, the way he glanced your way more often, as though he drew strength from knowing you were there, proud and supportive.

The match ended in a nail-biting tiebreaker, with Rafe securing the final point with an overhead smash. The crowd exploded in celebration as Rafe dropped his racquet, throwing his arms into the air in victory. As he approached the net to shake his opponent’s hand, his eyes flickered up to you once more. This time, he didn’t hide his grin.

When he walked off the court, the first thing he did was head straight to you. Ignoring the cameras and the crowd, he leaned over the railing, cupped your face in his sweaty palms, and kissed you deeply. “For good luck,” he murmured, his voice husky and low. The crowd roared again, and you laughed against his lips, knowing you’d never hear the end of it.

The post-match interview was conducted on the court, just minutes after Rafe’s victory. He stood in front of the camera, towel draped over his shoulders, his hair damp with sweat, and his signature stoic expression softened by the occasional grin. The crowd, still buzzing with energy, cheered wildly as the interviewer, a seasoned Australian sports journalist, approached him with a microphone.

“Rafe, congratulations on an incredible match!” the interviewer began, her voice amplified through the speakers. “That was a hard-fought battle, and you showed tremendous resilience out there. How are you feeling right now?” Rafe nodded, wiping his face with the towel before speaking into the mic. “Yeah, it was a tough one,” he said, his Southern accent drawing attention.

“Credit to my opponent—he made me work for every point. But I stayed focused, trusted my game, and just tried to take it one point at a time. Feels good to come out on top.” The crowd applauded his humility, and Rafe glanced up at the stands where you were seated. You caught his gaze, smiling softly, and he looked away quickly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

The interviewer chuckled, clearly picking up on the crowd’s excitement. “Now, I have to ask—there was a moment during the second set that had everyone buzzing. The camera panned to someone special in the player’s box, and the crowd went absolutely crazy. Did you notice?”Rafe laughed lightly, his head dipping for a moment as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he admitted, his grin widening. “At first, I wasn’t sure what was going on. Thought maybe something happened in the stands or something. But then I saw her on the screen, and…” He paused, glancing toward you again. “…I mean, can’t say I blame them.” The crowd erupted in cheers and whistles, their enthusiasm filling the arena.

You buried your face in your hands, both flattered and mortified, Rafe’s coach teasingly nudging you while Rafe smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction. “She’s been with me through everything,” he continued, his voice softer now, almost tender. “Always supporting me, no matter how tough things get. It means a lot to have her here, especially on a stage like this.”

The interviewer smiled warmly. “Well, I think we can all agree she stole the show for a moment there! But back to the match—this win puts you into the semifinals of the Australian Open. How are you preparing for the next challenge?” Rafe straightened, his game face returning. “Same way I prepare for every match,” he said confidently. “Rest, recovery, and working with my team. I know it only gets tougher from here, but I’m ready for it. This is what I train for.”

“Before we let you go,” the interviewer added, “do you have a message for your fans? The support here has been incredible.” Rafe looked out at the crowd, his expression softening again. “Yeah, I just want to say thank you,” he said sincerely. “Y’all are amazing, and your energy out here makes all the difference. Can’t wait to see you all in the semis.”

The arena erupted into applause as Rafe handed the microphone back and waved to the crowd. But before he walked off, he glanced up at you one last time, giving you a subtle wink that sent the audience into yet another frenzy. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you clapped for him. This was his moment, and he owned it.

500 notes · View notes

natsaffection · 5 months ago

Note

OKAY SO LIKE I WAS JUS ON TIKTOK N LIKE THOSE SONG ACCS POPPED UP N IT WAS PLAYING “why’d you only call me when you’re high” i havent heard this song in a WHILE

n it jus like sparked my next greatest idea😇 SO imagine football player! nat n cheerleader!reader, they’re both insanely popular. But they’re in separate friend groups. And readers bestfriends also happens to be the one and only playboy, Tony Stark, with player Bucky Barnes in second place. And Reader had her eye on Natasha for quite a while and actually finds herself asking out Natasha one day.

BUT unbeknownst to her, Natasha had a plan in her mind. Natasha assumed Reader was like Tony and Bucky and that she was trying to get a hit on her so she decided to “play along.” then breaking reader’s heart first.

ANGSTYYYY, and a fluffy ending

-💋

Whatever it takes. | N.R

FootballPlayer!Natasha x Cheerleader!Reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! G!P Natasha, fingering, blowjob, Y/n smacking everyone, Break Up, Angstt

Word Count: 6,4 k

A/N: OKAYYY...I got very inspired by the song that Girl - olly murs, Also..Again a very good and creative Idea, dear Anon! Thank you for that. 🙂‍↕️

The Field buzzed with electric energy as the crowd gathered for the highly anticipated Football game. Natasha Romanoff, the star player, was at the center of attention, her presence dominating the field with an aura of confidence and undeniable skill. Her hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, her eyes focused and determined. She was a force to be reckoned with, admired and respected by both her teammates and opponents.

Natasha's journey to becoming a football player had been anything but easy. Growing up in a rough neighborhood, she found solace in sports. Her natural talent and relentless drive caught the attention of her high school coach, who took her under his wing. Despite numerous obstacles, Natasha's hard work and dedication paid off, earning her a spot on the college team and a scholarship. Her teammates became her second family, and the field her sanctuary. Over time, she learned to be wary of those who wanted to get close to her for the wrong reasons and to guard her heart carefully.

On the sidelines, the cheerleading squad prepared for their routine, each member wearing their immaculate uniforms, complete with shimmering pom poms. Among them stood you, a popular cheerleader known for your vibrant spirit and radiant smile. You moved with grace and precision, each action a testament to the countless hours of practice and dedication you had put into your craft.

Your journey was different but equally challenging. You had always been passionate about dancing and cheerleading, but your parents initially disapproved, insisting you focus on school. Undeterred, you managed to excel at both, proving you could handle the demands of school and cheerleading. Your determination and positive attitude earned you the respect of your peers and a leadership position on the team.

The cheerleaders took their positions on the sidelines, ready to kick off the game with an energizing routine. You led the team with a brilliant smile, your movements perfectly synchronized with the beat of the music. The crowd responded with cheers, their excitement palpable. As the routine reached its climax, you executed a flawless backflip and landed gracefully, drawing applause from the audience.

As the game began, you found yourself glancing repeatedly at Natasha. You had always admired her athleticism and fighting spirit, but today was different. Something about the way Natasha moved, the sheer determination in her eyes, captivated your attention in a way you couldn't quite explain.

Throughout the first half of the game, your eyes followed Natasha's every move. She was in her element, effortlessly slipping past defenders. She intercepted passes, set up plays, and scored with a precision that left the crowd in awe. Each time Natasha scored or made a significant play, you felt a tingle in your chest, an inexplicable warmth spreading through you.

During a brief pause in the game, you took a moment to catch your breath. You looked over at your fellow cheerleaders, who were engrossed in their own conversations and preparations. Your best friend Kate noticed your distraction and nudged you playfully.

"Earth to Y/n! You seem a bit out of it today. Everything okay?" Kate asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. You laughed softly and shook your head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just watching the game."

Kate raised an eyebrow and glanced at the field, where Natasha was discussing strategy with her teammates. "Or watching someone in particular on the field?"

Your cheeks flushed slightly. "Is it that obvious?" Kate giggled and gave you a knowing look. "Only to those who know you well. You've had your eyes on Natasha the entire game. Do you like her?"

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. You had never really thought about it. Sure, you admired Natasha, but could it be more? The realization hit you like a ton of bricks..you had a crush on Natasha Romanoff.

"I... I think I do.." you admitted quietly, your voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd. Kate grinned, her excitement evident. "Well, it's about time you realized it! I think you should talk to her after the game."

Your mind raced, your nerves tingling with excitement and fear. You nodded slowly, your gaze drifting back to Natasha. As the game resumed, you cheered louder, your movements more energetic than ever as you kept your eyes on Natasha.

When the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the game, the crowd erupted in cheers. Natasha's team had won, and she was quickly surrounded by teammates and fans congratulating her on her outstanding performance. You watched from the sidelines, your heart pounding as you contemplated your next move.

"Hey, Romanoff! Looks like you have an admirer!" teased one of her teammates, nudging her towards the sidelines where you stood. "Yeah, don't let the hot cheerleader get away," added another with a grin.

"Bet she'd love to give you a private cheer.." joked another teammate, prompting a round of laughter. Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. The teasing comments from her teammates gave her the push she needed, despite her attempts to maintain a cool facade.

"Careful, Romanoff, she might be too much for you in the bedroom.." joked yet another teammate, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Nah, I'd love to know what it's like under her pom poms." and another one, eliciting another round of laughter.

Natasha's cheeks reddened slightly, but she held your gaze. She couldn't deny the magnetic pull, despite her reservations. She had seen it before, people wanting to get close to her for the wrong reasons, to bask in her glow rather than genuinely care about her.

"Guys, seriously, tone it down." Natasha said firmly, her voice cutting through their laughter. As the team headed towards the locker room, they had to pass by the cheerleaders. You saw them coming, and your courage wavered. You felt a wave of shyness as the team approached, and despite your previous determination, you couldn't find the words you wanted to say.

Natasha kept her gaze forward, the laughter of her teammates fading into the background as she passed by the cheerleaders. She briefly met your gaze, but the moment passed quickly, and she continued on her way without saying a word.

You stood there silently, frustrated with yourself for not having the courage to speak up, for missing the chance to connect with Natasha. You watched as Natasha disappeared into the locker room with her team, a mix of admiration and frustration welling up inside you.

"Come on, you can't tell me you're not interested." teased a teammate as they entered the locker room. Natasha sighed and shook her head slightly. "Just drop it now, okay?"

The days flew by, filled with classes, homework, and extracurricular activities. You found yourself constantly reminded of Natasha, whether through classmates discussing the latest soccer game or seeing Natasha in the school hallways. The memory of your brief interaction after the game lingered in your mind, making your heart race every time you thought about it.

One afternoon, you sat with Kate at your usual table in the school cafeteria. The bustling chatter of students talking and eating surrounded you, but your attention was focused on Natasha's table at the other end of the room. Natasha was deep in conversation with some of her mates, her laughter standing out above the general hum of voices.

"She really does look good.." Kate remarked, noticing your distracted gaze. You sighed, resting your chin on your hand. "Yeah.. I just can't get her out of my head. It's like everywhere I go, something or someone reminds me of her." Kate smiled understandingly. "Maybe it's a sign. You should talk to her, Y/n. You never know what might happen."

Before you could respond, the cafeteria door swung open, and Tony strolled in with his usual confident swagger. Tony was known for his charm and playboy reputation, always confident and seemingly able to get any girl he wanted. He spotted the two of you and made his way directly to your table.

"Ladies, how's it going?" Tony greeted with a grin, taking a seat in an empty chair. "Hey, Tony.." Kate responded lightly. "Y/n here is just crushing on someone."

Tony raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. "Oh? Do tell." You rolled your eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed. "It's really nothing. There's just this girl I like, but I don't know how to approach her."

Tony's grin widened, and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Well, you're talking to the master at getting the girl. Who's the lucky lady?"

You hesitated, casting a nervous glance towards Natasha's table. "It's... Natasha."

Tony's eyes widened briefly in surprise before a mischievous smile spread across his face. "Natasha, huh? She's a tough nut to crack, but I think you've got a chance. You just need a little push." You frowned, uncertain. "I don't know, Tony.. She's so... out of my league."

"Nonsense." Tony said dismissively. "You're great, Y/n. You just need to show her that. Come on, I'll help you out." Kate looked intrigued. "What do you have in mind?"

Tony's grin turned sly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Simple. You're going to go over there and ask Natasha out." Your eyes widened in panic. "What? No way. I can't do that!"

"Yes, you can," Tony insisted, leaning forward. "Just be confident. What's the worst that could happen? She says no? No big deal. At least you'll know you tried."

You glanced at Kate, who nodded encouragingly. Taking a deep breath, you stood up, your legs feeling wobbly. Tony gave you a reassuring pat on the back. "Go get her, tiger," Tony said with a wink.

You made your way across the cafeteria to Natasha's table, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel the eyes of other students on you, adding to your nerves. As you approached Natasha's table, you cleared your throat and tried to steady your voice.

"Uh, hi.." you said, your voice trembling slightly. Natasha looked up, surprise flickering in her eyes. "Hi."

You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the curious stares of Natasha's teammates. "I was wondering if... if you'd like to go out with me? Maybe we could grab a coffee or something?"

There was a moment of silence, and it felt like the world had stopped. Natasha's expression was unreadable, and your heart sank, fearing the worst. Then, a small smile tugged at the corners of Natasha's lips. "Sure. I'd like that." You blinked in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah," Natasha said, her smile growing. "Why not? It could be fun." Relief and joy flooded through you, and you couldn't help but grin. "Great! Um, I'll see you after school?"

"Sounds good " Natasha replied with a nod. As you turned and walked back to your table, you felt like you were walking on air. Tony and Kate greeted you with cheers and high-fives.

"See? I told you it would work." Tony said, looking quite pleased with himself. "Thanks, Tony. I owe you one.." you said, your smile not fading.

"Just have fun." Tony replied with a wink. "And don't forget to tell me all about it."

Natasha watched you, even as her teammates' conversations drew her back in. The cafeteria was bustling with life, but her thoughts remained on the unexpected encounter with you. Natasha's smile faded slightly as she continued to think.

She glanced over at your table, where Tony was animatedly talking with you and Kate. Natasha squinted slightly. Tony Stark and his buddy Bucky Barnes were notorious at school for their playboy antics, always bragging about their latest conquests. Natasha had seen too many girls left heartbroken by them and wasn't about to let herself become one of their pawns.

She knew better than to trust appearances, especially when Stark and his crew were involved. Steve and Sam exchanged looks but said nothing further. They knew Natasha well enough to understand that once she made up her mind, nothing could change it.

As her teammates turned back to their meals, Natasha's resolve grew stronger. She wouldn't be another notch on someone's belt. If you thought you could play her, you had another thing coming. Natasha would play along, but on her terms. She would teach you a lesson and be the one to walk away first.

Later, as the cafeteria began to empty, Natasha found herself glancing over at your table again. Tony had left, probably off to charm someone else, and you were deep in conversation with Kate. For a brief moment, you looked up, and your eyes met. Natasha gave a slight nod in greeting, and you smiled shyly before quickly looking away.

"Hey, Nat, you coming?" Sam called, breaking her train of thought. "Yeah, I'm coming." Natasha replied, grabbing her things and casting you one last glance before following her teammates out of the cafeteria.

As Natasha walked through the school halls with her teammates, she couldn't help but feel a sense of determination. She had been played before and had learned from those experiences. This time, she would be in control. This time, Natasha would be the one to break a heart first.

Later that evening, Natasha found herself getting ready for the coffee date with you. She dressed casually but made sure she looked good. After all, she had to maintain the appearance. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she reminded herself of her plan. She would make you think you had a chance, play the role of the interested one, but always with her guard up.

When she arrived at the café, she saw you already there, nervously fiddling with your phone. She took a deep breath, put on her best smile, and walked over to you. "Hey," she greeted you, sitting down across from you. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

You looked up, and your face lit up with a smile. "No, not at all. I'm just glad you came." Natasha returned the smile, but her mind was already at work. She would play the game, but this time, she would win.

Natasha leaned back in her chair, smiling at you. "So, tell me a bit about yourself. What do you do besides cheerleading?" You smiled and relaxed a little. "Well, I'm really into dance. I've been dancing since I was a kid. It's a big part of my life. What about you? How did you get into football?"

Natasha shrugged casually, but couldn't suppress a hint of nostalgia. "I've always been into sports. Growing up, it was a way to escape everything else. Soccer just became my passion." You nodded, your eyes reflecting genuine interest. "That's amazing. Watching you play is incredible."

"Thanks." Natasha replied, appreciating the compliment but reminding herself, "What do you want to do after school?"

"I'm thinking about studying dance and maybe becoming a choreographer.." you said, your eyes lighting up. "It's a long shot, but it's my dream." Natasha smiled, feeling a small connection despite her intentions. "That's the right attitude. You should go for it."

They continued talking, the conversation flowing easily. You shared stories about your family and friends, and Natasha found herself laughing at some of your anecdotes. Despite her initial skepticism, she found herself enjoying your company. You were warm and engaging, and Natasha began to wonder if she had misjudged you.

As the evening progressed, they finished their coffee and walked out of the café together. The night air was cool, and they strolled slowly, talking about everything and anything.

"That was really nice.." you said softly, looking at her. "Yeah, it was." Natasha agreed, feeling a twinge of doubt about her plan. But she quickly pushed it aside. "Maybe we could do this again sometime?" you asked hopefully. Natasha smiled, but kept her emotions in check. "Sure, I'd like that."

They said their goodbyes, and Natasha watched as you walked away, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She had to remind herself of her plan. This was about teaching a lesson, not getting involved.

In the following days, Natasha found herself thinking about you more often than she cared to admit. They saw each other at school, exchanged smiles, and even had a few brief conversations. Natasha's teammates noticed and made some teasing comments, but she brushed them off, determined to stay focused.

One afternoon, Natasha was in the gym working out when Tony and Bucky walked in. They were laughing and talking, as usual, about their latest conquests. "Hey, Romanoff, heard you're spending time with Y/n." Tony said, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't think you were her type."

Natasha gave him a cool look. "We're just hanging out, Stark. Why do you care?" Bucky grinned. "Just don't let her wrap you around her finger, Nat. Girls like her are dangerous."

Natasha clenched her jaw, her resolve hardening. "I know exactly what I'm doing." Tony shrugged, a sly smile on his face. "Just looking out for her. If you need tips on handling her, you know where to find me."

Natasha rolled her eyes and returned to her workout, but their words echoed in her mind. She had to stay focused. She couldn't let you get too close.

A few days later, Natasha and you were sitting together on the school steps, enjoying a rare moment of calm between classes. They talked about their weekend plans, laughing and sharing stories. "So, I was thinking.." you began, a hint of nervousness in your voice. "Maybe we could go to the movies this weekend?" Natasha hesitated, her plan and growing feelings clashing in her mind. She forced a smile. "Yeah, that sounds like fun."

As you beamed with excitement, Natasha's thoughts raced. She had to be careful. She couldn't let you get too close. She would go to the movies, keep up the charade, but always remember why she was doing this. But as they continued talking, Natasha couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she was still the one being played. You seemed so genuine, so different from the others. Natasha's resolve wavered, but she quickly pushed those thoughts aside. She had a lesson to teach, and she wouldn't be the one getting hurt.

Days passed, and their bond grew stronger. They spent almost every day together, finding comfort in each other's company. Natasha couldn't deny the feelings blossoming inside her, even as she kept reminding herself of her original plan.

One evening, they were at Natasha's house, sitting on the couch and watching a movie. Natasha's arm was around your shoulders, and you were snuggled close to her. The movie played in the background, but Natasha's attention was entirely on the girl beside her.

You leaned in and caught Natasha's lips in a tender kiss. This time, the kiss deepened, filled with a longing and passion neither could deny. Natasha's hands tangled in your hair as she pulled you closer, their bodies pressing together.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless. Your eyes searched Natasha's eyes, filled with a mix of desire and affection. "Natasha, I want to be with you. Completely.." Natasha's heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She wanted this more than she had wanted anything in a long time. But the nagging reminder of why she had started all of this lingered. Fuck it, just this one time. She pushed those thoughts aside and nodded. "I want that too."

They went into Natasha's bedroom, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. As they kissed and undressed each other, the outside world faded, leaving only the here and now. Natasha's hands roamed over your body, her touch gentle yet demanding. You responded in kind, your fingers tracing the contours of Natasha's skin, eliciting shivers and soft sighs.

Natasha took the lead, her movements confident and assured. She guided you to the bed and gently laid you down. Natasha's eyes glided over your body, appreciating every curve and contour. "You're so beautiful.." she whispered, her voice husky with desire. You blushed, your breath hitching as Natasha's hands caressed you. "Natasha..."

"Shh.." Natasha murmured, leaning down to kiss you deeply. "Let me take care of you." Her lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of soft kisses and gentle nibbles. You arched your back, your hands gripping the sheets as Natasha's mouth explored your body. When Natasha's lips reached a sensitive spot, a gasp escaped you, your fingers tangling in her hair.

"S-Shit, please..." you breathed, your voice trembling with need. Natasha looked up, her eyes dark with desire. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I need you." Natasha smiled, her hands gliding over your body, exploring every inch of you. She took her time, savoring every reaction, every gasp and moan that escaped your lips. When Natasha's fingers found your most sensitive spot, she teased you gently, drawing out the pleasure.

Natasha kissed her way back up to your lips, capturing them in a passionate kiss. "You feel so good." she murmured against your lips. "I want more of you."

Your breath hitched as Natasha's fingers grew more intense, your body trembling with pleasure. "Natasha... I'm so close..."

"Let go." Natasha whispered, her voice filled with warmth and encouragement. "I've got you." With Natasha's words and touch guiding you, you let go, your body shuddering with the intensity of your climax. Natasha held you close, her lips pressing gentle kisses to your skin, murmuring soothing words.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, you clung to Natasha, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You lay entwined, your bodies warm and satisfied. Natasha's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, and you sighed contentedly.

"I'm falling in love with you.." you murmured, your voice soft and content. Natasha's heart was full of emotions, but the nagging voice in the back of her mind doesn't stop. She kissed your head, holding you close. "I'm falling for you too.."

Natasha's breath caught as you kissed her again. Slowly, you began to kiss your way down Natasha's body, your lips leaving a trail of fire. Natasha's skin tingled with every kiss, her breath growing uneven as you moved lower. When your lips reached Natasha's erect member, a soft moan escaped her, her hands gripping the sheets. "Fuck...you don't have to..."

Natasha's body responded eagerly as your mouth closed around her shaft, your tongue moving in gentle circles. Natasha gasped, her hips bucking instinctively. "Oh God, Y/n..." Her grip in your hair tightened, guiding your movements. "Take it... d-deeper.." she commanded, her voice husky with desire.

Your hands held Natasha's thighs steady as you took her deeper, your mouth moving up and down with growing intensity. Natasha's breath came in ragged gasps, her hands tangling in your hair as the pleasure built. "Y/n..don't stop..." Natasha panted, her body trembling with need.

Your lips and tongue moved with expert precision, driving Natasha closer to the edge with each stroke. Natasha felt the pleasure rising to an unbearable peak, her body arching off the bed. "Fuck, I'm so close..." Her grip in your hair tightened, holding you in place. "I want to fill your mouth.." she whispered, her voice commanding and intense.

With your encouragement and skilled movements, Natasha finally let go, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her body shuddered with the intensity, her moans filling the room as she found her release. You held her close, your mouth and hands not stopping, prolonging the pleasure until Natasha was completely spent, and you swallowing every drop.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Natasha lay back, her breath coming in ragged bursts. You crawled back up to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. Natasha pulled you close, holding you tight. "You're incredible.." she said, her voice filled with emotion.

They lay together, their bodies entwined, and Natasha couldn't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Despite the nagging voice in the back of her mind, she couldn't deny the feelings that had blossomed between them. And that was dangerous. So, she made a note to end things in the coming days. It was always best to stop while things were still good, right?

A few days later, during one of Natasha's games, you were on the field with the cheerleading team, cheering loudly with the rest of the crowd. Your eyes followed Natasha's every move, your heart swelling with pride and affection. Natasha was in her element, moving with grace and power, leading her team with confidence.

At one point during the game, Natasha was tackled hard and hit the ground with a dull thud. Your heart skipped a beat, concern flooding you as you saw Natasha lying motionless before she slowly got up. "Come on, Natasha.." you whispered to yourself, your hands clutching your pom poms tightly.

Natasha shook off the tackle, waved away her concerned teammates, and signaled to the coach that she was fine. She caught your worried look from the sideline and gave you a reassuring nod. You breathed a sigh of relief, not realizing you had been holding your breath.

The game continued, and Natasha's team eventually won, the crowd erupting in cheers. As the team headed towards the locker room, you pushed through the crowd, your worry still evident on your face. You reached Natasha just as she was about to enter the locker room. "Are you okay?" you asked, your voice full of concern.

Natasha looked at you, a smirk playing on her lips. "I'm fine. It was just a tackle." You frowned, not entirely convinced. "Are you sure? That looked really bad." Natasha laughed, the sound cold and distant. "Trust me, I've been through worse." You nodded, but the unease didn't leave you. "Okay, if you say so. Just be careful, okay?"

"Of course," Natasha replied, her tone almost mocking. "See you later." You watched her go, a nagging feeling that something was wrong gnawing at you. You shook your head, trying to brush it off, and returned to your team.

Days passed, and Natasha and you still continued to spend time together, your bond seeming to grow stronger. You laughed more, shared more secrets, and your connection felt unbreakable. But Natasha knew it was time to execute the final part of her plan.

One afternoon, Natasha asked you to meet her at the park where you had shared your first kiss. You arrived with a smile, which quickly faded when you saw the cold, distant expression on Natasha's face. "Natasha, what's wrong?" you asked, concern creeping into your voice.

Natasha took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "We need to talk." Your eyes widened, your heart sinking. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

Natasha looked away, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "I think we need to end this. Us." The words hung heavy and painful in the air. Your face contorted, tears welling up in your eyes. "W-What, why? Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, come on. Do you really think I didn't see through your little game? You and Tony trying to play me? I know all about your plans." Your face twisted in confusion and pain. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb.." Natasha said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You and Tony thought you could manipulate me, get into my head. Well, guess what? I was the one playing you. How does it feel, Y/n?"

Your eyes widened in shock. "N-No..Natasha! you misunderstood... I never-" Natasha laughed, the sound harsh and unkind. "Did you really think I meant any of it? You were just a game. I got close to you to show you how it feels like, when you get crushed."

Your sobs grew louder, your body trembling with heartbreak. "Please, Natasha. I don't understand... We were happy! Y-You said you loved me..?"

Natasha's smile widened, finding twisted pleasure in your pain. "Oh, that's rich. Love? You're really naive. This was never about love. It was about teaching you a lesson. You have no right to mess with me or anyone else with your kind!" You couldn't take it anymore. You turned and ran, your sobs echoing through the park. Natasha watched you go, feeling a cruel satisfaction. She had fulfilled her plan, proving she had control.

But as days passed, Natasha found herself constantly revisiting your conversations, reliving the memories of your shared moments. The photos, the laughter, the intimate moments haunted her. Every message, every smile in the photos brought a sting of regret and doubt.

She noticed a change in the people around her. Tony, who was usually so friendly and outgoing, seemed to avoid her. The usual camaraderie felt strained, and Natasha's frustration grew. One day, unable to bear it any longer, Natasha confronted him. "Hey, Stark, what's your problem?"

Tony's face darkened with anger. "My problem? What's your problem, Natasha? Why did you hurt Y/n so badly?" Natasha's anger flared. "What are you talking about? You and Y/n must find someone else for your games. I'm done being your pawn."

Tony's eyes blazed with fury. "Games? What are you talking about? Y/n never played games! She was in love with you, and you broke her heart for no reason!"

Natasha felt a chill run down her spine. "What?" Tony stepped closer, his voice trembling with anger. "You heard me. She loved you, Natasha. She was head over heels for you. Why would you think otherwise?!"

Natasha felt the ground shift beneath her feet. "But...No! You both scheme against everyone!"

Tony's eyes widened with realization. "Natasha, you got it all wrong.. Y/n is sincere. Have you ever heard anything negative from her? Do you think someone like her would betray anyone? Come on! She’s been devastated since the breakup."

Natasha's breath caught as Tony's words sank in. The pieces fell into place, and she realized the truth. Your tears, your heartbreak, your love..it had all been real.

"Oh my God.." Natasha whispered, her voice trembling. "What have I done?" Tony looked at her with a mix of pity and disappointment. "You messed up, Natasha. Big time."

Natasha's mind raced, guilt and regret overwhelming her. She had been so blinded by her own insecurities and assumptions that she had destroyed the one real thing she had. Now she had to find a way to fix it.

One afternoon, she saw you walking with Kate outside the school. Natasha hurried after you, calling your name. "Y/n! Wait, please!" You stopped, your face hardening as you saw Natasha approaching. Kate looked between you, sensing the tension. "What do you want, Natasha?" Kate asked, her voice icy.

"Kate, please stay out of this. I need to talk to her!" Natasha said, desperation in her voice.But Kate tried to protect you. "I think you've said enough. Leave her alone."

Natasha's eyes flashed with determination. She gently but firmly pushed Kate aside and stepped closer to you. Your eyes filled with tears. "There's nothing to talk about. You made it very clear how you feel."

"No, you don't understand!" Natasha pleaded, her heart aching. "I was wrong.. I thought you and Tony were playing me..Like hes doing with everyone. I was stupid and paranoid."

Your tears began to flow, your voice shaking. "You were wrong? You hurt me, Natasha. You made me feel like I was worthless."

"I'm so sorry.." Natasha said, her voice breaking. "I know I hurt you, and I regret it every second. Please, Y/n, give me a chance to make it right." Your face contorted with pain and anger. "Make it right? You think you can just apologize, and everything will be okay? You humiliated me, Natasha! You laughed at my pain!!"

Natasha tried to take your hand, but you slapped it away. "Don't touch me!" you spat, your voice raw with emotion. "You can't just walk back into my life like nothing happened!"

"Please, Y/n. " Natasha whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I love you." Your face twisted in pain and disbelief. "You don't know what love is." you said, your voice breaking.

Natasha's heart shattered at your words. "I was wrong. I didn't mean any of it. I was just scared...Please..." You shook your head, more tears streaming down your cheeks. "No, Natasha. You can't undo what you've done. You hurt me more than anyone else ever has."

"Y/n-" Your face hardened as you raised your hand and slapped Natasha across the face. "Stay away from me." you sobbed. Natasha stood there, stunned and devastated, as you walked away with Kate. She watched you go, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. She had hoped for a chance to make things right, but now she was faced with the harsh reality of her actions.

Days passed, and Natasha found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything. She was a wreck at her games, her usual confidence and precision gone. She kept looking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, but you were never there. Your absence was a constant reminder of her mistake, gnawing at her every day. Her teammates noticed the change, but Natasha couldn't bring herself to explain. She went through the motions, but her heart wasn't in it. She missed you more than she could express, and the guilt gnawed at her relentlessly.

She replayed the memories in her mind over and over again, the laughter, the kisses, the moments of pure bliss. She went through her old messages, the photos they had taken together, each one a stab to her heart. She had lost something precious, something real, and she didn't know how to live with it.

Her teammates tried to reach out to her, but she pushed them away, unable to face their sympathy. She felt she didn't deserve their pity. She deserved nothing but the pain she felt. Every day was a struggle, and every night she lay awake, her thoughts tormented by you. The guilt was unbearable, and the loneliness suffocating. She had made the worst mistake of her life, and now she had to pay the price.

One day, Natasha sat alone in the locker room after another disappointing game. She knew she needed a plan, something that would prove her sincerity and dedication. An idea began to form in her mind. It was risky and would require a lot of effort, but she was determined. She would plan something special, something that would show you how much you meant to her.

Meanwhile, you tried to move on. Kate and Tony had been supporting you, but your heart was still broken. You avoided places where you might encounter Natasha, but the memories of your time together haunted you. You missed Natasha, but the pain of betrayal was still fresh. One day, as you walked through the schoolyard, you saw Tony flirting with a girl. The familiar sight of Tony's flirtatious behavior made your stomach turn. You knew what he was doing, just proving his conquest list again. Anger boiled inside you, and you marched up to him.

"Tony!" you called, drawing his attention to you. He turned around, surprised to see you. "Hey, Y/n. What's up-" Without warning, you slapped him hard. "This is all your fault! Because of you, Natasha thought I was just playing with her!"

The girl Tony was talking to looked shocked and quickly walked away. Tony rubbed his cheek, wincing in pain. "Y/N, what the hell?!"

Your eyes filled with tears. "You and Bucky have such a terrible reputation, and it cost me the only person who really mattered to me. Natasha thought I was just like you because of your stupid games!" Tony's face softened as he saw the pain in your eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't know..."

"Just stay away from me," you hissed, turning to walk away, leaving Tony feeling guilty.

More days passed, and you continued to avoid Natasha. You ignored the countless messages she sent you, each one a plea for a chance to explain, to make things right. Your phone buzzed constantly with new texts:

"Y/n, please, talk to me."

"I was wrong, and I'm so sorry."

"I miss you..."

"Please don't shut me out."

Your resolve weakened with each message, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond. You were too hurt, too confused. One afternoon, someone convinced you to attend one of Natasha's games. "Just see for yourself how much she's struggling."

Reluctantly, you agreed. You sat in the stands, trying to keep your emotions in check as you watched the game. When you saw Natasha take the field, a sharp pain shot through your chest. The sight of everyone cheering for Natasha, unaware of the turmoil between you, made your wounds ache even more.

It was clear that Natasha wasn't her usual confident self. She made mistakes, seemed distracted, and looked miserable. Her coach was furious, yelling at her from the sidelines. "Romanoff! What the hell!! Focus now!" he shouted. The situation worsened when Natasha was tackled hard, causing the crowd to gasp in shock. She lay on the ground for a moment before getting up and trudging off the field, leaving her team behind.

She sat alone in the room, her head in her hands again. She felt empty and lost, completely broken. She went through the motions, showering off the sweat and dirt from the game, but the hot water couldn't wash away the guilt clinging to her. As she stepped out of the shower, her phone buzzed with a new message. You had finally responded:

"Fine. Let's talk. But don't expect much."

Natasha's heart leaped with hope. She quickly dried off, her fingers trembling as she replied, setting a time and place for your meeting.

When you arrived at the park, you were surprised to see that it had been decorated with fairy lights and flowers. Natasha stood there looking nervous and hopeful. "Hi." Natasha began, her voice trembling. "Thank you for coming."

Yoy crossed your arms, trying to keep your emotions in check. "What is this?"

"This is me trying to make things right.." Natasha said, stepping closer. "I know I hurt you, and i know I don't deserve another chance, but I'm begging you to hear me out."

Your eyes were wary, but you nodded for Natasha to continue You crossed your arms, your expression guarded. "You have five minutes." Natasha took a deep breath. "I know I messed everything up. I let my fears and insecurities take control. Tony's and Bucky's reputation made me paranoid, and I thought you were playing me just like they would. I was so wrong, and I'm so, so sorry."

Your eyes softened slightly, but you remained cautious. "I understand why you were wary because of Tony and Bucky, but that doesn't give you the right to treat me the same way."

"I know!" Natasha said quickly, her voice full of remorse. "I should have trusted you. I should have known you were different. I'm so sorry.." You took a deep breath, your emotions swirling. "You broke my heart, Natasha. How can I trust you again?"

"I know it will take time," Natasha said, pleading. "But I'm willing to wait. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. Please, Y/n, give me a chance..please.."

You looked into Natasha's eyes, searching for signs of dishonesty. All you saw was genuine remorse and.. love. You stepped closer, your resolve softening. "This doesn't mean everything is okay. It will take time, and you have to prove yourself."

Natasha nodded, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, of course. I'll do anything! Whatever it takes.." You glanced around the park, how much love Natasha put in it. "We'll start slow. Step by step."

A wave of relief and hope washed over Natasha as she held your hand. "Thank you, Y/n. I won't let you down. Thank you."

In the following weeks, Natasha worked hard to rebuild your relationship. She showed up for you in every possible way, being patient and understanding. You spent time together, talked through your issues, and began to heal slowly. It wasn't easy, and there were many ups and downs, but Natasha's sincerity and dedication shone through. You began to trust her again, and your bond grew stronger than before.

One day, as Natasha walked you home after school, she held your hand and smiled at you. "I have a surprise for you." she said with a mysterious smile. "What is it?" you asked, curiosity piqued, your heart beating faster.

"You'll see.." Natasha replied, leading you to a small dance studio nearby. "I know how important dancing is to you, and I wanted to do something special."

She opened the door to reveal the room reserved just for the two of you. The studio was softly lit, and gentle music played in the corner. You were speechless, overwhelmed with surprise and emotion. "Natasha... This is... How did you do this?"

"Someone owed me something.." Natasha said gently. "I thought we could dance together... Even though I don't really know how."

You couldn't help but laugh, and you spent the evening dancing together. Natasha might not have been the best dancer, but she tried, and you could see the sincerity and love in every movement. You laughed, stumbled, and simply enjoyed the time together.

After the dance, you sat down, Natasha holding your hand and looking deep into your eyes. "Y/n, I know I hurt you, but I promise I will never disappoint you again. I love you more than anything."

You smiled and squeezed her hand. "I love you too, Natasha. Thank you for never giving up." With time, trust, and patience, Natasha and you rebuilt your relationship stronger than ever. You both learned from your mistakes, grew together, and created a bond that nothing could break. The pain of the past slowly faded, replaced by a love that was real.

#natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha smut #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romanov smut #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

845 notes · View notes

angel-of-the-moons · 1 year ago

Text

Chocolates vs Aliens Pt. 2

Symbrock x Pregnant!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, SMUT, PiV sex, unprotected sex, fluff, pregnancy, childbirth, anxiety, mentioned somnophilia (consented), lactation kink(?), oral sex (f! receiving)

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Taglist: @yoink-a-doink @jayfall93 @being-worthy @theflamingraven

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

Every day passed meant it was another day your baby girl grew, another kick, another day closer to being able to hold her in your arms and see her tiny face.

Of course, Eddie and Venom were excited, too. You guys moved fast, but everything came in stride, as if you were together for years. Despite the strange circumstances surrounding the three of you, you were content. Eddie and Venom treated the baby as if they fathered it, and you couldn't be happier. Even if you and Venom were in a constant battle for dominance when it came to chocolate. (Spoiler: you almost always won.)

You especially loved it when Venom cradled your belly. He did it at every available opportunity he could snag. Eddie meanwhile took care of a few more mundane things, splitting with Venom the duties of helping your changing body as your due date closed in on you.

Eddie would massage your feet and swollen ankles, while Venom's inky body would surround your midsection, taking the weight of the baby up off your hips, easing the strain on your back...

But your favorite day so far has to be today.

Because right now, you were currently watching Eddie and Venom snap at each other as they struggled to assemble the crib you ordered online.

No written directions were included, merely pictures of most of the crib already assembled; and the two already had to take it apart three times to start over.

"No, that part goes to that part and that one goes there!" Eddie snapped as the symbiote held a screwdriver and a piece of the railing in a long inky tendril.

Venom growled deeply, "WE ARE NEVER BUYING ANYTHING FROM IKEA EVER AGAIN!"

"No the fuck we are not." Eddie huffed. "We're better off buying furniture at a goddamn yard sale!"

You giggled from where you rocked on your reclining chair, your belly heavy and rounded out; effectively making you look like you swallowed a melon whole.

Eddie and Venom snap their heads to pout at you.

"What're you laughing at?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, we'd like to see you try to put something like this together!" Venom snorted.

"Nah, I already have my hands full putting together something waaaay more intricate." You snort back, looking through the cozy baby clothes you'd bought yesterday.

New Years was approaching, and you knew full well you would be due around then, and your poor tiny baby would be absolutely freezing! So you took the preemptive and bought little newborn winter clothes for your girl, including a cute little fluffy teddy onesie with a hood that had cute little ears on it.

"Oh, yeah?" Venom asked, narrowing his eyes skeptically.

"Yep." You pat your tummy, and the skin shifts as a tiny foot kicks from within.

"...Okay yeah fair point." Eddie chuckled, shaking his head.

"Yeahhh, mommy wins again!" You grin, patting your belly once more, earning yet another eager kick as you imagine it to be a high-five.

"What, are you keeping score now?" Eddie sighs, pointing the screwdriver at you.

"Damn right I am." You grin. "Mommy points for the win!"

"And how many points do we have?" Venom inquired, tilting his head.

"Not enough to beat meeeee~"

Both of them snorted and shook their heads, before turning back to the task of assembling the frustrating crib that would soon, very soon, cradle your newborn daughter.

If Eddie or Venom ever put her down, that is.

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

Christmas came and went in what felt like the blink of an eye. Your little celebration was small, and you even invited Mrs Chen over to join in on your festivities.

Which mostly consisted of pizza, a sandwich board, and chicken wings, plus a few homemade goodies that Ms Chen brought with her. Not the best meal idea, but it was a party, and damn those wings were good.

You and Venom even gifted Sonny and Cher a nice little seed treat you baked for them as a Christmas present for being "such good birdies".

Baking for chickens, now that was a first. But hearing their happy little clucks as Venom petted them and talked baby to them was absolutely adorable and worth the trouble. As were the large eggs afterwards!

Your mood swings had petered out about two or three months ago (you weren't sure, but Eddie insisted when you didn't break into tears watching a documentary about penguins) and unfortunately, well...

There are other symptoms of a pregnancy that you really thought you could stave off. You tried, you really did, but Venom having such heightened senses and being able to pick up on your scent and hormones? Oh, yeah. You were screwed.

Literally. In several different ways. You'd only had sex once or twice in a previous relationship, and with how disappointing that was, you definitely preferred to handle your urges yourself.

Where your ex-partner previously failed, Venom and Eddie were overachievers.

Taking great care with your belly and baby, they did whatever they could to ensure you were comfortable before making you so strung out your brain could barely form a coherent thought. Between Venom's tongue and Eddie's hands, you were a whimpering, trembling mess when the two would take you to bed.

Venom was especially ravenous in his sexual appetite. After learning more about sex and the pleasure it brought since bonding with Eddie... Where his host was a meal, you were a full-course desert that he would lose himself in.

Some nights, when he would climb through your window, he would immediately seek you out, drawn in by the lingering adrenaline from the hunt and the smell of you.

When you weren't moving about your apartment, Venom could find you in bed, sleeping fitfully. That was when he would crawl up under the blankets and find his way between your legs, not letting up until you woke up a panting mess.

Yeah, definitely the best way to be woken up, in your opinion. There were worse ways. Waaaay worse. Especially because your pregnancy-libido certainly wasn't complaining, the rush of endorphins afterwards would help outweigh the growing anxiety as the days passed.

Every day meant you were closer to your due date. Every day meant you were closer to experiencing possibly the worst pain you will ever feel in your life.

And there was the chance something could go wrong, that your baby could get stuck, or the umbilical cord could wrap around her, or she could be in a breech position...

You feel Eddie's hands gently encircle you, lazily draped over your shoulders as you sat in the shower chair, the warm water pattering over you two. It was New Year's Eve, and you two decided a calm, relaxing shower was a nice way to unwind before you poked your head out of your window to watch the fireworks people would inevitably launch to usher in the new year.

"Hey, sweets." He said to you softly, his thumbs brushing your collarbone softly. "We can feel your pulse jumping like crazy. You okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I just..." You sigh.

"Liar." Eddie chuckled, bringing his large hands to your shoulders to press his thumbs into your weak spots, making you shiver and drag out a soft noise from you.

"C'mon." He urged gently as he massaged you, sending delightful shivers down your back and to your toes and all the way back up again.

"You can tell us, sweets. You thinking about the delivery again?"

You deflate a little, the bliss of his skilled hands drifting away from your grasp as the weight of your baby's birth came back to your mind.

"...Yeah. I'm just... I'm so, so worried, Eddie." You say, feeling your lip begin to wobble.

"I've read so many horrible things online of how it could go wrong, and..."

Venom's head suddenly slinks around you until his strange body is stretched so he could look you in the eyes.

"But there's also good things." He rumbled. "You might have a quick birth, not having to go through it for hours or even days..."

"And hey, you might even be one of those ladies who sneezes and pop! The baby's out!" Eddie added in, making Venom groan.

You can help but chuckle at how absurd it sounded, and you knew Venom was inwardly cringing at such a naive suggestion.

"I doubt I'll be that lucky." You sigh, a smile finally gracing your soft lips.

"Hey! You never know!"

"Idiot." Venom huffed.

"Shithead." Eddie smirked.

You feel your anxieties settle a bit, at least for now.

Your hands trail over your belly, over the thin purple lines crossing your skin, your fingers gently caressing the rising and falling bumps as your baby shifted and rolled around inside your womb.

"...Willow." Venom suddenly said.

You and Eddie blinked and stared at him, brows raised and eyes large, a long silence filling the shower as the water ran over you.

"What?" You ask him.

"For a name. You're gonna be due any day now." He purred, leaning his face closer to your belly.

"Still haven't settled on one."

"Where did you hear that name, Vee?" Eddie asked, shock evident in his tone.

"In some TV show I flicked through when you two were asleep. I like it." He replied simply, pressing his muzzle to your belly, feeling the tiny feet and hands thrash out from within.

"Okay, as far as names go that's... actually a good one." Eddie murmured.

"...Willow." You repeat softly.

It was a beautiful name. And honestly... You liked it. You had yet to pick a name for yourself, indecision being your worst enemy your entire life made the process that much harder.

Picking a name was one of your fears, too. You wanted your daughter to have a wonderful one; one she could carry with pride, and the pressure you placed on yourself to pick the perfect one was what screwed you up on that.

But this name, the one Venom suggested felt... right.

"Yeah." You smile once again. "Yeah. Her name can be Willow."

Venom grinned a shark-like grin and nuzzled his face into your belly like a happy affectionate cat, purring like one, too.

"Well, I'm glad that's a weight off of you." Eddie chuckled, resuming his earlier massage into your shoulders, earning another blissful sigh from you.

Yeah... Things will work out. After all, as long as you had these two with you, you felt like you could handle anything.

You relaxed and leaned into Eddie's touch, a little whimper escaping you as his thumbs knead into a knot in your shoulders.

Venom grinned up at you, and you knew fell the glint in his eyes meant you were in trouble.

And you knew that Eddie had the same smirk.

"No point in hiding it, sweet thing." Venom growled lowly, his tongue laving out to taste the skin on your hip, tracing the stretch marks etched into your skin.

"We know what gets you going." Eddie said quietly, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

You shivered when Venom's tongue slithered lower, past the swell of your midsection and down to your twitching clit.

"It's n-not my fault..." You whined, your voice cut off by a breathy moan as you felt Venom's tongue squirm past your entrance and into your tight, gummy walls.

"Of course not." Eddie hummed, massaging your shoulders as you arched your spine as little as you could; Venom's inky body slinked around you, enveloping you and keeping you from slipping off the shower chair in the process while he proceeded to eat you out with voracious hunger.

Eddie hissed suddenly, his fingers halting in their ministrations to squeeze you softly.

"Eddie, what--" You panted.

But that's when you felt it. The water was getting cold.

"Maybe we should move this to the bed, hm?" Venom cackled.

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

"Eddie, fuck..." You whimpered fingers gripping tight into your bedsheets as Eddie rutted his nose against your clit, his lips and tongue dancing through your soaked folds as his hands pawed at your hips, bringing you down closer every time you squirmed away.

As Eddie devoured you, part of Venom's mass was completely surrounding his cock, sucking and stroking in time with his tongue as it pushed and pulled against your weeping cunt.

It was too much, and not enough at the same time. As much as you wanted more, you also wanted to push him away because the sensations were beginning to become too much for you to handle.

Your eyes were rolled back into your head as you felt that blissful feeling begin roll into a roaring crescendo, threatening to overtake you and make your heart patter out of your lungs.

God, you wished your belly wasn't in the way so you could see what he looked like between your legs. One day, soon.

Or, well... At least once you were fully recovered after the birth. Which would probably be a while.

You were so lost in Eddie's mouth working you over that you didn't notice Venom leering at you, saliva dripping around his fangs as his eyes narrowed to barely-there slits, focused intently on your heaving breasts; both long since swollen and sensitive as your milk came in.

You certainly didn't notice the small beads of hazy white liquid beading up and threatening to roll down the soft mounds of flesh as your orgasm approached.

"Oh, fuck--" You gasped, weakly rolling your hips to meet Eddie's eager mouth.

For a split second, you hear Venom snarl softly, before all of a sudden his mouth was on you, latching onto your pebbled nipple, his tongue rolling and squeezing your breast to get out every drop of that sweet liquid he could.

"Fuck." Eddie groaned, pulling back to breathe heavily.

Venom made sure Eddie could taste your milk as he drank from you readily, the flavor coating his tongue and flooding his taste buds to combine with the sweet taste of your nectar that coated his face and chin.

It was an intoxicating combination.

Eddie's eyes rolled a bit as he dove back in, aggressively sucking and nipping at your clit, gently prodding your entrance with his fingers as Venom proceeded to try and drain your breasts of all their milk.

All at once, the combined feelings had your mind blacking out, every muscle tensing as you came; your teeth snagging your bottom lip between them and you made a loud moan, barely able to string their names out of your mouth as they helped you ride out your orgasm.

Eddie pulls his mouth away from you and rises to his knees while Venom pulls himself free (albeit reluctantly) of your breast, licking the stray rivulets of milk that had begun to run down the sides of your tits.

"So sweet, love." He purred, licking his chops. "But we need more."

Venom's head merged back into Eddie's body, his inky mass slinking down his arms until it was comfortably arching your hips and back off the bed while Eddie rutted his sensitive cock against your sensitive cunt, still fluttering and clenching around nothing as the remnants of your orgasm waned.

But every lazy stroke of his hips sent little bolts of lightning arcing through your nerves, stretching out the little aftershocks just a bit farther as he carefully slid his cock into your hungry cunt.

"Fucking tight." Eddie hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes pinching shut.

"Not gonna last long, sweets." He rasped.

Between Venom working his cock over and edging him while he ate you out, and how your silky wet heat enveloped him so wonderfully tight, he could already feel himself getting lost in your body.

"Eddie, please..." You keened, your fingers going to grip at his wrists, your nails digging into his skin with each plunge of his cock into your needy hole.

He was careful with you, trying not to jostle you (and the baby) too much as he fucked you.

You felt the pressure build up low in your belly once more, squeezing down and sending another tight feeling down your spine as you became hyper-aware of every vein in his cock as he glided in and out of your hole.

"Almost, baby, almost..." Eddie breathed, wriggling one of his wrists free so he could brace it in the pillow by your head to give himself a bit of leverage as he rocked his hips into yours.

He could feel his orgasm climbing fast; sweat dripping down his brow as your delicate hands slid over his shoulders. The way you bit your lip and locked eyes with him only drove him further into no man's land.

"Fuck." He moaned weakly, his pace stuttering and dragging out as he felt the first volley of cum shoot out of his sensitive tip.

He had enough control to pull out, rutting his hips over your belly as the rest of his cum shot over your swollen belly and twitching pussy, his cock once more rutting against you as he came hard.

Your teeth grit and your nails dug in as Eddie buried his face in the crook of your neck, panting hard into your damp skin as you feel a sensation you were almost familiar with burst low, a fresh burst of wetness gushing from you are the pressure on your lower spine builds and tingles.

"Oh, fuck." You swallow. "Eddie."

"Yeah?" He asks, pulling back to look down at you with an almost cocky smile on his face.

"I think my water broke."

He and Venom both immediately began to panic.

"WHAT?!"

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

The scrambling to get to the hospital moved by you in a blur. One minute Eddie was hastily dressing you in one of your sundresses, slippers, and a pair of panties, the next you were carried like some sort of fairytale princess down to the car park.

Good luck getting an ambulance out to your place tonight...

Eddie and Venom bickered the whole time to your car, your hospital bag prepped and slung over Eddie's shoulder as he guided you down to your car.

They sat you in the passenger seat and helped you buckle in as the first set of contractions ripple through you. As the pain flashed, you couldn't help but be reminded by your earlier concerns.

You read that some women felt pain for days, or hours before their water broke. Why were you only feeling it now? Was that a bad thing? Was something wrong?

Fuck, you knew it would hurt, but... you weren't prepared for the sudden sharp stabbing. You expected it to start as a throb and build from there, not immediately start out like someone was hacking away at your lower half.

When you arrived at the hospital, Eddie had actually slipped and busted his ass on the freshly mopped floor in his haste to fetch you a wheelchair.

You would have laughed, if you hadn't been gripping the safety handle in the car, screaming as another sharp jolt stabbed through you.

A few nurses even chased him out, harping about how he could have a concussion from falling, but quieted when they saw what had him in such a frantic rush.

Your baby girl was coming, whether you were ready or not.

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

It had been close to four hours, and you were almost ready to deliver; nearly fully dilated, as your obstetrician cheerfully announced, a smile so cheerful and calm you almost kicked her in the face.

She was less impressed with Eddie, however, as she pulled him out of the delivery room to talk.

"We'll be right back, luv." She assured you sweetly.

"Uh... Is--is everything okay? You were saying they were okay, and--" He blurted out nervously.

"No, no, she's fine." She assured him, pushing her glasses up her nose once more.

"Then what..."

"I couldn't help but notice how hesitant she was to tell me how she went into labor. But I have to know, did she fall? Injure her belly in any way?" She questions.

"No! No, god no." Eddie said, waving his hands and shaking his head. "Nothing like that!"

She crossed her arms and tapped her finger on her bicep, a thick brow quirking upwards on her freckled brow.

"...Were the two of you having sex?"

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck fuck fuck.

FUCK.

"Uh... I, er..." Eddie put a hand on his hip and scratched the back of his head, casting a look into the room where you were read-faced and sweaty while the nurses wiped your face with a towel while your hands gripped the handles in the birthing chair you were seated in.

He blew a puff of air out of his cheeks.

God, he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. The embarrassment of the situation was too much for him, having this teeny tiny Irish woman stare him down.

"I'm not judging you." She says flatly, not letting him escape her microscopic gaze. "But I have to tell you that there is a reason we tell pregnant patients to avoid penetrative sex, or excessive sex this late into their third trimester. It can make them go into labor."

She clicked her tongue and sighed. "You're lucky that she was so close to her due date that the baby isn't in any real danger. But it was still reckless. Regardless if she consented or not, this sort of thing can be dangerous, you hear me?"

Eddie wilted, feeling very much like a puppy who got caught wee'ing on the carpet, shame and mortification filling every inch of his body. Even Venom felt this way, cringing internally at the truths the doctor spat at them as she gave her lecture.

Her rant was cut short when you made a sharp yelp, jerking and clutching at your belly and one of the nurses came rushing to the doorway.

"Doctor O'Halloran, she's ready. We can already feel the baby's head. Looks like this baby wants out now!" She said, absolutely calm and no concern in her voice. If anything, she sounded excited!

Eddie meanwhile was frantic as O'Halloran clicked her tongue again, checking her watch with an almost bored glance. "Huh. Look't that. Well! Let's get this baby out of her! Adjust the chair so she's a bit more comfortable."

She grinned at Eddie, "Well? C'mon, Papa! You better be in here to see your baby girl!"

He felt his heart surge and flop in his chest when she said that. It was finally settling in.

Papa.

Their baby. Their baby girl.

Eddie had scrambled to behind the chair, leaning forward to wrap his arms around you.

He was glad he had Venom to strengthen his body, because god, could he swear you had suddenly gained incredible super strength as you began to push, crying and screaming as your lungs were squeezed of air, the pain so blinding you had actually fainted for a few seconds, all while not losing your inhumanly tight grip on his hand.

You had shouted more obscenities than Eddie and Venom had ever heard you swear, in between crying and apologizing for saying them and fainting like a messed up cycle.

Doctor O'Halloran assured Eddie this was normal rather calmly as you came to yet again, just to cry and scream again as your body struggled to push the baby free of your birth canal.

The smell of blood immediately had Venom wanting to surge forth, despite knowing there was nothing he could do for you currently except support you from inside of Eddie as you endured the most painful struggle of your life and he bore witness to something he'd never seen with his own eyes.

The bringing of a life into the world.

It hurt the both of them, to see you hurting so badly as you strained to bring Willow out for the world to see. Thankfully, as Venom had hoped earlier in the night, your birth was going quickly.

Not painlessly, of course, oh no. Definitely not painless.

"The moment we get home, I'm bonding with her. I know I can do it." Venom whined within Eddie as you sobbed in pain. "I want to fix her. I don't want her to hurt anymore after this."

Eddie silently agreed, hoping you would consent to melding with the symbiote to heal the damages your body was going through to birth your baby.

They just wished that you didn't have--

All at once, your body went slack and your eyes shut, but before the boys could panic any further, a tiny, ear-piercing wail filled the room.

"A girl! A nice set of lungs on her!" O'Halloran laughed as she scooped up and handed the newborn off to the nurse. She knew that Eddie (and Venom of course) were too preoccupied between staring in awe at the squirming purple body the nurse held to focus on cutting the cord.

All they could think about was her.

She was here. In front of them. Finally.

Those tiny feet that kicked out at them all this time, the little head they could feel shift around in your belly...

The nurses adjusted the chair enough to allow you to lean back, and Eddie covered your face in kisses, waking you up again with a mad grin.

And, heaven fucking bless you; amazing, gorgeous, powerful you, you smiled back. A tired, watery smile as you cried in victory.

Giving birth and being birthed was the closest thing that someone could come to dying and still come out of it. Many were not so lucky, but they were glad you were among the majority that emerged from this bloody struggle with a smile on your face and mirth in your bloodshot eyes.

The nurses wiped your baby down a bit before pulling your gown down to place her squirming, hiccuping body onto your bare chest.

Your hands weakly went to cradle her warm body, kissing the top of her head where a patch of fuzzy hair was.

"Hey, sweetheart." You sniffled, whispering against the wet fuzz.

You could barely get words out as emotions surged out of you all at once, overwhelming your body and mind as you cradled your precious child.

Almost immediately as your voice washed over her, it was as if the angry baby instantly calmed. It was like your soft, happy sobs were a soothing balm to her squirming body.

Neither could tell who moved it first, but Eddie's hand went to cover yours, Willow looking positively teeny beneath his large hand, watching in awe as her tiny, fat little fingers clawed and groped at your chest.

The sounds of loud booms from outside filled your ears, making her jump and wail once more as you coo'd and murmured to your baby.

"Hey, Eddie?" You sniffled, looking up at him.

"Y... Yeah?" Eddie asked, his throat tight as tears began to build at the corners of his eyes.

You tipped your head and kissed his jaw, weak and tired.

"Happy new year."

You were only faintly aware of the nurses cheering; both the healthy baby you birthed and in celebration of the new year ahead of you.

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

They kept you at the hospital for another two days after you gave birth. After passing the placenta and remaining viscera of the birth, your body felt like literal tons of strain had been lifted from you.

And of course you, at the same time, felt like you had been tackled unprotected by a professional linebacker.

So, of course as soon as Venom offered to ease your comfort and repair the damage you agreed. It would certainly save on the recovery time. Sure, it would be hard to explain during your next checkup, but you'd cross that bridge when you got to it.

Ms Chen had gone to the hospital, as she was practically the closest thing either of you had to a mother and she wanted to see the baby. She carried an armload of supplies with her, too. Including some kinda balm that frankly stunk of something akin to menthol, but whatever it did, it certainly eased the pain on your poor nethers.

And of course, she gave a shit-eating grin when you named her honorary grandma.

Even Eddie's ex, Anne, came with her fiancee to congratulate him and coo over the adorable little bundle he so proudly cradled in his strong arms.

He certainly had nurses swooning, but you knew their eyes were only for you. Especially after he cried some more when you wanted his name on her birth certificate.

Right now, you watched as Willow suckled on her cute pink pacifier that Anne had slipped down to the gift shop to buy while they were at the hospital.

She was dressed in a soft two-piece to ensure the remnants of the umbilical cord weren't too aggravated, her cute little face pinched as she grunted in her sleep, exhausted from feeding and content as you carefully swaddled her.

Eddie came up behind you as Venom's head emerged from his body, all three of you looking down as your newborn dreamt whatever dreams babies had. Probably about her next feeding time.

"She's so fucking cute." Eddie sighed dreamily.

"I know! And she's so chunky." You giggle. "I had a real meatball of a baby. No wonder I was so big."

"Nah, you're beautiful." Eddie chuckled, kissing the skin of your shoulder that had been exposed by your oversized T-shirt. One of his, for sure, but he didn't mind.

Venom purred in a near-silent content, before turning to look at Eddie with a shark-like grin, sending a thought telepathically for only him to hear.

The thought made Eddie choke and start to laugh as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"What? What's so funny, you ginormous dorks?" You snicker.

"Ah. Eh..." Eddie said, grinning widely. "...Vee says he calls dibs on the next one."

"Next one..?" You say, your brows furrowing.

"Yeah... the next one. He wants to be the one to knock you up next time."

"Oh, my god!" You gasped, spinning around to slap at Eddie's shoulder while he and Venom laughed. "You two are horrible! Have mercy on my poor body!"

Venom leaned in, nuzzling the pulse in your neck.

"We didn't hear a no..."

#venom x eddie #eddie x venom #eddie x venom x reader #eddie brock x venom x reader #eddie brock x you #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x venom #venom x you #venom x reader #eddie x venom smut #symbrock x reader #symbrock

1K notes · View notes

doyoulikethissong-poll · 10 months ago

Text

Paula Abdul - Straight Up 1988

Forever Your Girl is the debut studio album by American singer Paula Abdul. The 1988 album was Abdul's breakthrough into the music industry after being a choreographer for high-profile clients including Kate Bush, The California Raisins, George Michael, ZZ Top, Duran Duran and most notably Janet Jackson. At the time of the album's release it was the most successful debut album of all time and was the first time an artist scored four US Billboard Hot 100 number-one singles from a debut album.

"Straight Up" was written and produced entirely by Elliot Wolff, and was released as the album's third single. It became Abdul's first top-40 hit in the US, eventually topping the Billboard Hot 100 in February 1989. The single brought Abdul widespread public attention and remains her biggest international hit to date, reaching the top 10 in at least 16 countries.

It also earned Abdul several award nominations in the US, most notably including her first Grammy nomination in the category of Best Female Pop Vocal Performance in 1990.

The song became so popular that it ascended up the charts before a music video had even been shot for the song. The black and white video, directed by David Fincher and choreographed by Abdul herself in mid-January 1989, won four 1989 MTV Video Music Awards for Best Female Video, Best Editing, Best Choreography, and the first Best Dance Video. The video features an appearance by her friend, comedian Arsenio Hall, whose popular talk show had premiered a few weeks prior to the video shoot. Djimon Hounsou also appears.

"Straight Up" received a total of 73,6% yes votes!

youtube

#finished #high reblog #high votes #high yes #80s #paula abdul

1K notes · View notes

httpsryu · 8 months ago

Text

the cc; campus crush

pairing: kim minjeong x fem! reader

summary: kim minjeong feels her heart rush at the sight of the cold-hearted rich girl

category: enemies-to-lovers(in minjeong's head)

genre: very very slight angst, fluff at the end

warnings: y/n is kind of mean (ITS IN HER BLOOD)

Hong Y/N, the youngest daughter of one of the richest conglomerate family, a real life nepo baby whose life has been granted since the day of her birth.

Much like her old sister; Hong Haein, Y/N is known for her cold-stoned face and cold-hearted soul. No one dares to even step in front of the pretty female.

Kim Minjeong on the other hand, oh how she wishes she was able to run into the raven-haired student that roams the campus.

"Isn't it crazy how I only saw her walk by once and I never saw her ever again?" Minjeong rants to her best friends while reading a news article about Y/N and the recent collaboration with YSL.

Jimin looks up from the medicine book, pushing her glasses up. "Well, you two may have different schedules."

"Or, she's only here once in a while?" Aeri assumes. "Like look at her family, college is probably like a hobby to her."

How could college be a hobby when the love of her life is sitting right here in the library.

"Her shoe game always kill." Yizhou scrolls through Y/N's Instagram and looking at the high heels in each post with envy. "You better get on that before some other man does."

Aeri laughs at Yizhou's words and for her friend to have so much hope in the latter. "That's if you ever see her again gracing these college floors."

Minjeong could only grumble under her breath, throwing a rolled up straw wrapper at Aeri. "At least have faith in me, yeah?"

"I have faith in you." Jimin says, raising her hand in support of her friend which earns a smile from the puppy-like female.

Minjeong stretches her arms, letting out a noise in content of how the stretch felt before throwing all her books and notebooks in her bag.

"Going home already?" Yizhou pouts, not wanting the other to leave. "But who will I bother now?"

The short haired rolls her eyes at her friend before pointing at the Japanese and getting out of the chair she's been in for 4 hours. "You can bother her, she's not even doing anything besides watching that dumb rom-com."

"Will we see you in tomorrow's morning lecture or you're skipping again?" Jimin asks, eyes still focusing on the materials written down in the medicine book. "Just wondering if I'll need to bring four or three cups of coffee."

Minjeong contemplates for a second. "I'll show up."

"Okay! See you tomorrow."

For some strange reason, Minjeong will score high on exams yet her overall class grade drops because of lame professors counting attendance, the short-haired has no choice but to start showing up again.

With a hum in response, Minjeong slings her bag around her shoulders as she turns towards the door of the library. She looks down on her phone, checking for any important emails from any professors.

"OW!" A voice gets the short-haired's attention off her phone. "Could you at least watch where you're going?"

OH MY GOD?

Hong Y/N, the girl of Minjeong's dreams.

You pat off your clothes, afraid of dust flying onto your cropped blazer that you JUST got yesterday while shopping with your sister and brother-in-law.

The short-haired is caught in a trance at how beautiful your voice sounds. With a pretty face of yours and a music-like tone of a voice, she doesn't mind dealing with that cold-heart of yours.

"You're not going to apologize or anything?" You ask, glaring at the female in front of you.

Right.

"My bad, I got distracted." Minjeong nervously giggles, not that she's afraid of you but because you're standing in front of her. "I'm sorry for not watching my direction. If you want, I can pay for your clothes if anything is wrong with them."

If Yizhou was here, she would laugh in Minjeong's face at how much of a simp she already was for a girl who BARELY pays attention to anyone.

You look at the puppy-like female, no expression on your face. "No, you don't have to do that. It'll just be a waste of my time."

"Let me treat you out to coffee then!" The other spits out those words in a flash, her eyes full of determination of some sort. "It'll at least ease my mind."

You actually have no time for anything.

"It doesn't have to be today! Or tomorrow or the day after that." Minjeong exclaims, her eyes are puppy-like as she stares down at you. "Just, when you want cofffe, let me know."

And before your mouth forms a response to say, the red haired girl is already off on her heels and walking.

"I don't even know her...?" You speak to yourself, hold on your handbag tightens as you proceed to walk into the library with the same face you had on the entire time.

Being the youngest daughter of the Hong family isn't the easiest. Sure, others may argue that you got everything handed to you since the second you were born. You admit that they're correct, you were born in a family full of money.

Being born into one of the wealthiest family in South Korea already had a career already chosen for you.

But, it's not something you'd want to do for the rest of your life.

It's different for your sister and brother. While Haein is good at her job and takes charge while also being confident about it, Soocheol was adamant about extending his resort business. And you; you hated being in the business industry. Whether it'd be retail or resort, you'd be homeless instead.

"Y/N, keep your head in the game." Your father's voice brings you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to your senses. "You're going to be working alongside your sister after college so you need to make sure you're paying attention."

You let out a nod, apologizing under your breath as you pay attention back to the board where your brother-in-law is talking about the results of kicking out designer stores that aren't reaching their sales. Whatever that was.

"If we let that happen, we'll be required to pay a penalty fee if they found out due to the branding." Hyunwoo explains to your father.

You let out a bored sigh, looking across the table at your brother who's cluelessly flipping through the papers then at your older sister who is sat beside you, at ease listening to everything being said.

"Stop sighing." Haein warns you, worried that you'll get a scolding from your father at home during dinner. "Just endure it."

You pout your bottom lip out in response, picking up a pen and doodling on the papers that were handed out to you earlier before the meeting. Oh, how you wish you could be anywhere else but here.

"On the topic of counterfeit products, it may affect how the overall sales in a whole range." Hyun-woo points at the estimated percentages.

Fighting to urge to let out another sigh, you rest your chin in the palm of your hand trying to pay attention to whatever your brother-in-law babbling about now.

While trying to look interested in the contents of the screen, you can't help but to think back on what happened earlier on campus and the encounter with the puppy-resembling female.

How come you've never seen her before?

How were you even going to get coffee with her if you don't know the girl? Not saying you would but maybe; if it ever comes down to it; then it will.

"We will take a look and come up with appropriate measures." Your father said, giving a look to your brother to write that down. "Meeting done."

The way everyone in that room can see how your eyes lit up at those last two words from your father. Everyone exits the meeting room, besides your family. Rolling your eyes at what this may mean.

Another lecture on being professional as a Hong family member

Possibly a really good vacation trip out of nowhere

"Hong Y/N, just why do you think you can behave the way you do?" Your father clicks his tongue in a scolding manner, pressing the button on the remote which rolls down the blinds of the meeting room so other employees would not be able to see.

You look down at your hands, not wanting to make eye contact with the angry man.

"I understand you're the youngest but Y/N, you need to realize that you've been off the hook since birth." He continues, letting out a deep sigh after. "You need to start taking things seriously, you are not a kid anymore."

Without letting you say a word, you hear the footsteps of him leave the room with the door clicking shut behind him.

There it is again; the stupid burden falling and feeling heavy on your shoulders. Your body starts trembling and your tears can't stop falling from your dagger-like eyes.

"Y/Nnnie?" Your brother softly calls out, walking over to where you sat. "Are you crying?"

Your brother-in-law's hands you a tissue.

"That's why I told you to endure it." Haein warns you.

Soocheol pats your back. "You know how father is like. He's serious when it comes to business."

"Don't comfort her." Your sister takes Soocheol's hand off your back. "She needs to learn and grow from this."

Hyunwoo calms his wife down. "Honey, let's not stress her out."

"That's right! She's already startled by father's words from earlier." Your brother defends you.

The older female shakes her head, disapproving the two males. "Once you're all settled down, come to my office for a talk, Y/N."

Soocheol gasps, placing his hand over his mouth in a way to not frighten you (it didn't work). While your brother-in-law could only give you a 'good luck' look as he goes back to his office. Soocheol shortly leaving afterwards after getting a phone call from the chairman (your grandfather).

Clicking on the button of the remote to draw the blinds back up, you stare through the windows and across into where your older sister's office is at. She's furrowing her brows upon reading some critical conditions and you know she's unhappy with something.

With a sigh to calm down your nerves, you quietly exit the meeting room and walk across to knock on the CEO's door. Seeing her through the clear glass door, she brings her hand up which prompts you to walk in. Each step you take, nerves are taking over as you walk towards her desk.

"I'm not being tough on you because I want to." She looks up, crossing her arm. "But because you're a smart woman, Y/N. We just want to push that towards the business that's been in the family."

Business this! Business that! Why does no one ever want to hear what you want to do?

"Do you get what I'm trying to say?" Her brow is raised, looking stern yet she means no harm. "Push through for a few more years, alright?"

You want to laugh-out of absurd. Everyone always tells you that as long as you listen to father and grandfather, you should be set. After all, we were born and raised into a conglomerate family. One of the wealthiest at that.

Yet, why does it bother you when you know you're set for life?

"Are you listening, Y/N?" Haein says, waiting for your response.

"Yes."

With a hum in satisfaction, Haein leans back in her chair. "Okay, meeting done."

With a small bow, you can only walk out of your older sister's office feeling disappointed in yourself.

Minjeong sighs while taking a seat in the back of the lecture room waiting for the class to start and for her friends to get here. She can only get her materials out and prepare for class in the meantime.

While opening her tote bag, she hears the lecture room's doors open again, indicating that another person also decided to come early. Looking up, still tired and out of her mind, to see who the other person is; Minjeong suddenly sits up and instantly widens awake.

What are you doing here? You were in this class? How come the others never told her about you?

You stand up straight, bag clutched in your hands while looking effortlessly beautiful in a vintage Chanel long sleeved blazer which hugs your waist perfectly along with a white turtleneck and a matching vintage Chanel skirt. And rarely; a backpack is hugging your back.

Minjeong has to give it you; she does admit that your shoe game will always do the outfit even more attention. Valentino heels seems to be one of your favorites.

Oh; how down bad Minjeong is for this classy lady in front of her.

You and her make eye contact. You look at her, realizing that it's the same puppy-eyed girl from yesterday. With a small quiet sigh, you walk up the lecture room's stairs.

The short-haired feels her breath hitch at the sight of you walking, omg the universe is blessing her with all of these Y/N moments.

"Is anyone sitting here?" You ask, the same cold sounding voice like yesterday but oh does Minjeong love the way your voice sounds. (she can never be your hater like the others are)

The ginger shakes her head immediately. "Please sit!"

'Strange.' You talk to yourself in your own thoughts at how eager that girl sounded.

Nonetheless, you sit in the seat next to her. Taking your backpack off and placing it aside before staring at the side view of the red haired. How strange yet intriguing she is.

Minjeong can see from her peripheral vision, her ears starts heating up and she can't help but to awkwardly turn to you. Expecting you to look away, you continue staring. Same unfazed cold expression that you're known for.

"W-why are you staring at me?" She asks, unsure of what to do or say.

Getting a shrug in response from you, you sigh before turning your full attention to the front of the room.

"What time does this class end?" You look down at the watch sitting on your wrist, ready to bolt out of here before getting yet another scolding from your sister.

"9:45."

With another sigh escaping your mouth, you sit up straight while continuing to stare at the whiteboard against the wall.

Minjeong wonders how long you've been in this class for. Perhaps; it's your first day.

The door opens again, this time with two loud voices and one voice shushing them constantly. A specific ginger short-haired hides her face from them, on purpose (and to also not mess up her love life).

"Oh! Minjeong is here today!" Aeri looks up, ready to wave at the named girl before trailing her eyes over to the figure next to her and her mouth instantly hangs low.

You nod to yourself at the recent information. Her name is Minjeong? Somehow; that name matches the puppy-like student.

"Let's not bother her." Jimin pushes both Aeri and Yizhou to rows a couple behind the first before sending a look over to her best friend.

The Japanese fights the urge to look back, whispering to Yizhou. "I thought Hong Y/N dropped this class?"

"She probably had other things to attend to." Yizhou whispers back.

Clearing your throat, you turn towards the female besides you.

Minjeong fidgets with her hands before she too turns to face you.

"About that coffee-" "-Would you like to get coffee today?"

The both of you stare at each other, until she lets out a laugh which caught your attention. Suddenly, you're staring a bit harder at her, focusing on her features a bit longer than you normally would focus on other people. And you cannot help but to wonder why once again, you've never seen her before until now.

"Would you like to get coffee with me today after class?" Minjeong asks, a smile on her pretty lips as she patiently waits for your answer with nervousness rushing through her at the expression of yours.

You clear your throat again, pulling away from the eye contact as you stare back at the front while ignoring the way your cheeks suddenly feels warm. "Okay, then."

Your answer simply means yes.

To Minjeong, that answer sounded indecisive almost.

"Your treat, correct?" You ask, still ignoring the weird heating effect on your cheeks.

The puppy-like female is doing summersaults in her head, jumping up and down mentally like an overly excited puppy who's ready to tackle down their human.

"Yeah! Of course, it is!"

next part: may 8, 2024; publishing date

i LOVED qot SO MUCH so of course i had a bit of inspo for this small short, characters from queen of tears are NOT mines (all rights go to the writers) leaning to writing another part to this (maybe?)

#kpop x reader #kpop imagines #aespa x reader #minjeong x reader #kim minjeong x reader #winter x reader

825 notes · View notes

fushigowo · 2 years ago

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 | 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

⇢ ˗ˏˋ PAIRING: gojo satoru x fem!reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SYNOPSIS: the aftermath of yours and gojo satoru’s midterm essay and how your relationship came to existence. contrary to popular belief, gojo satoru is actually the sweetest jerk of a boyfriend you’ve ever had.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNINGS: none!! just some cute fluff and suggestive themes <3

⇢ ˗ˏˋ NOTE: i have finally awaken from my peaceful century of slumber, resurrecting amidst the fog from the land of the dead, and bringing back the fluffiest, tooth-aching, heart-warming set of fluff i have ever written.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ PART I | PART II

1. The midterm essay was a success. However, Gojo Satoru noticed that something is wrong.

You and Satoru were able to score a high grade in your midterms for literature class. It was amazing how the two of you managed to finish a ten-page essay regarding the social context of Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. However… during the week of working on the essay, of course there were some… other sessions that Satoru initiated.

During the entire week, you felt like you had lost your ability to walk and you’re not even exaggerating.

“You okay, sweetheart? I didn’t overdid it this time, right?” Satoru asks as he puts his shirt on while sitting on the edge of your bed.

“I’m literally struggling to walk right now, Satoru.” You stare at him in disbelief.

“Oops, my bad!”

But that being said, the entire week was a blast for both you and Satoru. Not only you’ve been fucked several times by your beloved, you also earned a high grade from your literature professor and was able to help Satoru in LIT 2000.

After the midterm week, Satoru noticed that you’re back to being the shy quiet student who rarely participates in class again. You’ve also been ignoring him after the week. The white-haired man couldn’t help but feel unsettled about your actions. Because why would you avoid him when you like him so much? And to Satoru, being ignored by the person he admires and likes is no different from being stabbed right through the chest.

Why were you being so distant from him all of the sudden? Why were you ignoring him like you didn’t just spend the entire week together?

Satoru knows that something is wrong so he decided to disturb you when you were studying in the library.

You were busy studying for a test when a loud voice called you from afar; a voice that you knew too well.

When you raised your head to stare at him, the other people in the library were staring daggers at him. Satoru makes his way towards you, ignoring the other students and even the librarian. The white-haired man stops in front of your table and sits across where you’re sitting.

“Hey, sweets,” he smiles. “What are you doing?”

“Studying…?” you said, as if it wasn’t obvious. “Why are you here, Satoru?”

“The question is why are you ignoring me?”

You let out a sigh and ignored his question. You close your laptop and pack your pens and notebooks but Satoru suddenly grip your wrist, making you look at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“What is it, Satoru?” you ask, trying not to make your voice loud enough for everyone else to hear. “Look, let’s not discuss it here.”

“Fine. Take me somewhere more private.”

And that’s how you end up being eaten out by Gojo Satoru in the most secluded part of the library after explaining why you’ve been avoiding him.

2. Gojo Satoru remembers the little details.

After a tiring week, Satoru came busting in your library work to free you from the stress that you’ve been dealing with since… well, since forever, he thinks. But now, he’s here to alleviate your stress (and back pain).

Satoru had plans of dragging you out from your library work but he had to wait for you to finish since library work is an important part of your schedule. After that, he finally drags you out of campus to try the new dessert shop that had recently opened.

“I know you’re fond of sweets because it relieves your stress,” he smiles at you before holding your hand and enters the small shop. “I had to explore places that serve desserts near the campus so I can treat you. Oh, and you definitely deserve a treat after a stressful week.”

Oh… he remembers my rambles during aftercare.

Your heart races rapidly inside your chest, cheeks start to heat at the sweet gesture of Satoru. Like he predicted, the weight on your back of carrying loads of responsibilities and stress was suddenly lifted. It was amazing how Satoru was able to understand you more than you understand yourself. He knows what to say, what to do, and what not to do to lighten your mood.

Contrary to popular belief that Gojo Satoru is a cheating fuckboy, he is actually the opposite. Every one in the campus just see him as one because of how he constantly flirts with every girl he sees. In your defense, you think Satoru is just being nice to them. The nicknames are actually what gives it. He told you that he just likes calling everyone with the nicknames he gives.

“Sooooo… how is it? It’s good, right?” he smiles.

“Yeah. So good.” you smile back.

“You got something on your nose,” he says.

“Hmm? Where?”

“Here!” he yells before coating the tip of your nose with chocolate ice cream.

3. Gojo Satoru understands how your mind works.

You are anxious.

And Satoru can see it.

Sitting on top of the rooftop of your apartment building, you stare at the cityscape with your arms wrapped around your legs and chin on top of your knees. Satoru sits down next to you and asks what’s wrong but you didn’t answer and just continue to stare at nothing.

“Alright. Tell me what’s in your mind, sweetheart,” he says. “Something’s bothering you, obviously.”

“I’m just… I’m scared, Satoru,” you whisper, still not looking at him because of how pathetic you feel. “I’m scared of what might come. I don’t know how things will be for me after I graduate. Like, I know I have plans—big plans—but what if… what if I didn’t—what if I didn’t get to do all those plans? What will happen to me then? What will happen to me if I didn’t get to live the life that I wanted? If I didn’t get to become the person that I wanted to be?”

When you finally had the courage to look at him, your eyes are blurred with hot tears, making Satoru’s eyes soften at your current state.

Satoru doesn’t understand why but he likes it when you’re vulnerable around him. He likes it when you’re not scared of telling him what you really feel and what goes inside your head. Because a person like you, who rarely opens up to anyone in their life, means that you trust him enough to tell these things and to be vulnerable around him.

“I’m sorry, Satoru. I shouldn’t have said tha—”

“Thanks for telling me that, sweetheart.” he smiles before cupping your cheeks, his thumb rubs your soft skin, as if his hands are touching the most delicate flower that he has ever laid hands on, afraid of breaking its petals and ruining its beauty. But Satoru, no matter which state you are in, you are still the prettiest in his eyes.

“I know the future can be… shit and unpredictable but y’know, that’s kinda the exciting part of it. It’s full of… unexpected things; full of surprises; full of ups and downs. But one thing that I’m sure at is you will definitely be the person that you want to be. And right now, you’re doing everything you can to have the future that you want,” he says. “It’s okay to be anxious, sweetheart. Trust me when I say this, you will get the things you want and desire because you work so hard for it. Even if you didn’t get all of what you want, I’ll be by your side to help you. Even if you feel like what you did wasn’t enough, I’ll be by your side to tell you that it’s more than enough, okay? You are more than enough. Now come here and give me a hug.”

You smile at him as you sniff and wipe your tears away before giving him a tight hug. Satoru kisses your forehead.

And what seems like a dream is actually a moment in reality.

4. Gojo Satoru is your biggest supporter and your number one fan.

Upon sitting on your desk in LIT 2000, your professor called your name for you to recite the earlier discussions regarding your lesson last meeting, which was African American Literature. Recently, Satoru has been participating more and more in class which was because of you.

He figured that if his girl is the smartest student in class, then he’d better step up and level your intelligence. Everyone else were surprised except you and your professor. The both of you know damn well that Satoru is a smarter than he looks. But Satoru’s recent constant participation burned something inside you. Every time he speaks, he would look at you with a smirk on his face. It was as if he was taunting you.

Ever since you and Satoru would do your study routine together, his grades were over the top and his participation started to become consistent. Of course you wouldn’t let your smartass boy take the number one rank in literature class from you.

“Yes, Mr. Gojo? Would you like to share your—”

“I would like to answer it, professor.” you raise your hand, surprising the others as well as Satoru.

When you finally stand up from your seat, all eyes are on you as you answer the professor’s question. But it was then followed by another question and another question, and you figured that your professor is definitely taking her time asking you all those questions to make up for the ones that you didn’t answer because of your… shyness. As you answer every question she throws at you, the smile on Satoru’s glossy lips becomes wider and wider as this is the first time he has witnessed you talk in full confidence.

“Yes! That’s my girl!” his loud voiced echoes in the entire classroom, which made you hide your face from your professor and the others because of how… embarrassing that was.

When you finally sit back down, you look over your shoulder and made a face, asking ‘what the fuck was that?’. But Satoru just smiles widely at you and gave you a thumbs up.

You couldn’t help but to smile back at him and give him a thumbs up.

5. Gojo Satoru finally unmasked himself in front of you.

It was the worst of times of Satoru.

However, everyone was oblivious to that thought. Well, almost everyone. To them, Satoru remains the same goofy person that he is even after… losing someone so important to him. To them, Satoru is a big asshole. Why? A big asshole for not even shedding a tear even after losing someone important to him. A big asshole for not reacting the way a normal person would react to a loved one’s death.

How did Satoru react?

Laughing and shrugging everything off. Showing no signs of tears nor sympathy. He just fucking shrugs it off.

“Oh, yeah that! I’m not thinking about it too much, y’know? I’ll eventually get over it!” he smiles. “People come and go after all.”

And people would say to him: “How can you be so insensitive?”

To everyone, Gojo Satoru is a rude, insensitive jerk.

Well, almost everyone.

“Satoru?” you call out. “You can talk to me. I’m right here. I’ll listen.”

Satoru’s back is facing you and you notice how he wiped something off from his face and sniffed before turning around for you to see a wide smile on his face as if he’s not falling apart. His red yet pretty eyes says otherwise.

“Hey, sweetheart! What are ya doing here? Went to see me for a kiss?”

“Satoru,” you mumble. You are definitely not amused. “Stop it.”

“Stop what—”

“Stop whatever this is,” you say. “You keep putting on these faces to make everyone see that you’re okay or unaffected by these events but I know that you’re falling apart, Satoru.”

Satoru’s smile slowly disappear from his face as he continues to listen to you.

“You can cry in front of me. You can tell me what’s in your mind. You can let yourself out of that… that façade of yours and just fall apart just this once.” This time you look at him straight in the eyes. “I just don’t want you to go through this alone, Satoru. I’m here. Let me carry the weight of grief with you.”

And then, Gojo Satoru fell apart… but this time, you were there to pick him back up.

Satoru wraps his arms around you. His legs start to wobble, making him fall down on the concrete along with you. Even though his face is buried on your chest and his arms wrapped around your back, you can tell that Satoru is crying because of his quiet whimpers and sniffs.

“It’s okay, Satoru,” you whisper as you caress his pearl white hair. “I’m here.”

“I lost him,” he whispers, accompanied by whimpers and hiccups. “My best friend… the only one I had…”

For the first time, Gojo Satoru finally unmasked himself in front of you.

6. Gojo Satoru has interesting ways to claim that you are his.

Satoru had invited you in their fraternity party.

It wasn’t the first time that you’ve been in these kinds of party. Your best friend invited you to come with her before but that was the last time you went to one because of how uncomfortable it was for you. Your best friend told you that she’ll stay by your side the entire night but once the both of you had entered the party, she was already chugging down some beers and partying with the other students, leaving you no choice but to sit and hide in the corner.

But this time, you had trust in Satoru that he’ll never leave your side because you already told him why you don’t come to these kinds of parties anymore.

Now, you’re sitting next to Satoru, talking to some of his friends and some freshmem that tagged along. The freshmen—Kugisaki Nobara, Itadori Yuuji, and Fushiguro Megumi—are actually fun and nice to hangout with.

This is the first time that you’ve enjoyed a party.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Satoru leans closer to your ear for you to hear. “I’ll go grab us another beer. Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know, ‘kay? I’ll be right back,” he says before kissing your temple and stands up from where he’s sitting.

After a few minutes of waiting for Satoru, you felt uneasy so you left your seat to go look for him. Since he was getting drinks, you figured he'd be somewhere in the kitchen where you encountered someone you don’t know. The guy was probably drunk since he can’t seem to walk straight and has a bottle of beer in his hands.

“Hey, pretty, what are you here for?” he asks, making you back away.

“Uh—I’m just—I’m looking for my—”

“Hey, sweetheart! What’re you doing here? I got us some drinks!”

Hearing your boyfriend’s voice made the fear and panic jump out of you. When you saw him through the doorway, you immediately sprint towards him and wrap your arms around his waist.

“And I thought she’d be available in bed,” the guy mumbles, making Satoru furrow his eyebrows and the next thing you knew, the guy was beaten up pretty badly and your boyfriend was kicked out of the party and the two of you spent the night driving around the city, looking for the perfect spot of the city lights where you and your boyfriend can feel like you’re on top of the world.

7. Gojo Satoru loves your drunken state.

When you told Satoru that you’d be out drinking with your friends, he asked each and every one of them to text him if you ever get drunk. He doesn’t want you to take an uber or have your friends take you home, he wants to be the one doing that so he is sure that you are completely safe.

And that’s what your friends did.

When you finished two bottles of beer, you were a complete mess and god knows how much of a mess you are when you’re drunk as hell. The moment that your friends realized that you need to be taken home is when you started to cry about how much you miss your boyfriend and kept asking why your friends took him away from you.

So when Satoru got to the street where he’s supposed to meet up with your friends and you, he didn’t know what he was seeing. You were throwing up in a trash bin like you’re about to transform into a fucking werewolf.

“How many did she drink?” he asks.

“Five. She was… enjoying,” one of your friends replies.

“I can see that,” he chuckles before taking you in his arms. “How worse was it?”

“Not worse than before. All she did was cry and whine. Anyways, our ride will be here soon. Take good care of her, Gojo. We trust you.”

“Yep. Thanks for looking after her!”

Satoru waves to your friends as they get inside the car then turns his gaze on you, clinging onto him like a koala holding onto a tree.

“All right, sweetheart. Let’s go home, yeah?”

Oh, you were drunk as fuck, alright. You can barely even walk so Satoru decided to carry you like a newly wedded wife. But your sniffs and whimpers stop him in his tracks to check up on you.

“You okay, babe?” he asks. You nod and wiggle yourself to get out of Satoru’s grasp to make yourself walk. You told him you can, so he let you. Now you’re wiggling and can’t even walk a straight line while your boyfriend chuckles from behind.

“All right, that’s enough,” he says before holding you again.

Satoru cages you closer in his embrace, feeling your warmth and breathing the scent of alcohol in you. But your instincts suddenly kick in, so you shoved Satoru over before yelling, “I have a boyfriend, mister! His name’s Satoru and he’s gonna beat you up if you touch me!”

“Oh? Who’s your boyfriend again?” Satoru tries his best not to laugh.

“Gojo Satoru. And he’s not gonna be my boyfriend anymore after this,” you say.

“Why not?” Satoru raises an eyebrow.

“Because I’m gonna propose to him and ask him to marry me so he can be my husband,” you chuckle. “So don’t touch me! I need to go home to him!”

Satoru lets out a laugh, almost loud enough to echo in the quiet streets an hour after midnight. His shoulders shaking up and down as he amuses himself at the things you were saying in your drunken state.

No wonder you don’t drink much when you’re out with Satoru. You don’t want him to see you in your drunken state yet this is a side of you that Satoru wants to see. Yes, he knows you’re an introverted woman who is secretly a very horny one yet comfortable when it comes to people she’s close with, but this is something that Satoru has not yet seen. He doesn’t know if he’s going to record you or just let this be a memory in his mind. He chuckles to himself and figured that this is something that only he knows and he witnessed.

“Oh, that won’t happen, sweetheart!” Satoru hugs you behind your back, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Why not? Is he dating another person? Would he say no if I propose to him? What if he says he doesn’t want me to be his wife?! What if—”

“No! That’s not what I mean,” he chuckles. “That’s not gonna happen because… Satoru will propose to you first. He will ask you to be his wife and if you say yes, the two of you will have a cozy home and a sweet, little family, full of small Gojos and a pet too.”

“You think he’s gonna propose to me?” you ask.

“Oh, he definitely will,” Satoru smiles before wrapping his arms around you again to take you to his car. “Now let’s take you to Satoru.”

8. Gojo Satoru loves hearing you read to him.

Aftercare with Satoru is almost similar as being in heaven. His kisses, his rambles, his praises, the way he takes care of you, the way he whispers sweet nothings to you is the same as floating on Cloud Nine.

But this time, you wanted to be the one to take care of him, too.

“I love you so much, baby,” he whispers before kissing your temple. “I’ll make you a hot bath, okay?”

Just when he was about to stand up, you call out to him, making Satoru look over his shoulder.

“You can just stay here with me, ‘Toru. Let’s stay in bed for a while, please?”

And how can he say no when you’re giving him those doe eyes that he can’t resist?

So when you told him to get back on the sheets, Satoru didn’t hesitate to do so. With a large smile on his lips, your white-haired boyfriend settles himself on the bed, his arms wrapped around your back and his face rested on your chest, you being the big spoon and him, the little spoon.

“Read to me, angel,” he whispers. “Wanna hear your voice.”

“Okay,” you chuckle. You stretch your arm to get the book on the nightstand on your side of the bed. “Where did we stop—Ah, here.” You settle yourself wrapping your other arm around Satoru will the other holds the book.

You clear your throat before reading, “‘I want to make Romeo jealous. I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter, and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir their dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain.’” As you read the passage from Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray, your fingers caress Satoru’s soft, white hair while the man feels himself slowly drifting to a peaceful sleep.

“YN?” he calls out.

“Hmm?” you hum in a low tone.

“I’m so glad we got partnered at that midterm essay.”

You chuckle before leaning closer to him. “I’m glad too, ‘Toru…”

9. Gojo Satoru gets along with your cat very well.

“Tada!”

“Uh, babe? What am I looking at?”

“His name’s Tooru! With double O’s!” You smile as you hold your white, Persian cat by its armpits, showing its full glory to your boyfriend. “He’s so white and fluffy and he reminds me of you, so I named him Tooru but it’s spelled with double O’s.” You nuzzle Tooru in your embrace while your boyfriend processes what’s happening.

Did you just replace him with a cat?

“Did you just replace me with a cat?”

You didn’t answer him. You didn’t even bother looking at him since you’re too busy baby-talking your new cat, Tooru. Satoru can’t deny that Tooru isn’t cute. In fact, he is the most adorable cat he has seen, but the now that you’re giving attention to your cat rather than him, he couldn’t help but be—

“…jealous? Satoru, are you jealous of Tooru?” you ask, almost bursting out in a laugh.

“So what if I am?” he pouts. “You obviously love him more than me! You only had him for, like, 4 hours and you have me for three years!”

“Come on, don’t be so immature, Satoru!” you chuckle. “Tooru deserves much as love as you get. Oh, and can you play with him for a while? I’ll make us dinner!”

You stand up and kiss Satoru on his cheek then kiss your cat all over his face before heading toward the kitchen. When you finally disappeared from Satoru and Tooru’s sight, your white-haired boyfriend glances at your cat like it’s about to steal the love of his life—which he actually thinks is happening right now.

The bored expression of your cat’s face as it stares into Satoru’s cerulean blue eyes makes him even more pissed because what are the odds that the cat has the same color of eyes as his? Your cat is the cat version of Satoru and he hates it because he is the only Gojo Satoru in your life. Immature, yes, but almost nothing is ever taken maturely by your boyfriend.

But since you came to love Tooru so much (but not much than you love him, Satoru thinks), he realizes that it would make you happy if he gets along well with your cat.

“Fine.” Satoru sighs. “Hi, Tooru! Aren’t you adorable?” your white-haired boyfriend attempts to caress Tooru’s soft fur but was taken aback and shrieked when Tooru’s claws swiftly attacked Satoru’s hand.

“Shit! What the fuck, Tooru!”

“What happened?” you run from the kitchen to the living room only to see your boyfriend’s arms crossed and your cat curled up at the corner as if a father is scolding at his child.

“Babe, Tooru just—”

“Oh, my poor baby.” You didn’t take a glance at Satoru and made your way to Tooru to caress him in your arms and pull him in a hug. “Satoru, you know better than to yell at our child! He’s just a kid!”

“Are you serious right now?”

It’s been weeks since Tooru came home with you and since then, he has been ruining yours and Satoru’s relationship. It’s as if the cat has a manipulative mind of its on to sabotage Satoru. And every time Tooru successfully does so, Satoru swears that his cute, little tongue sticks out to mock your white-haired boyfriend.

Now, you’re packing your bags to go visit your family for a few days. Satoru has to stay since he’s finishing his graduate studies in Language and Literature so your boyfriend has no choice but to stay with your cat that he cannot get along with.

“Alright, Tooru, your mom’s gone which means I’m in charge.”

For the next few days, Tooru has done nothing but mess with Satoru. But it wasn’t until your white-haired boyfriend finally figured something out when he bought a laser. He read somewhere that cats can be played and tamed with lasers and catnips and a ball of yarn so that’s what he did.

Satoru realizes that you cut Tooru’s claws before going so he won’t get a chance to claw him out. The more Satoru gets closer to Tooru, the more Tooru gets comfortable with him. So when your boyfriend thought it was time to buy another bed for Tooru, he bought the most expensive one since he thinks your cat will soften with him if he buys something expensive.

But that wasn’t until the package finally arrived but then Tooru decided to make the box of the package to be his shelter instead of the expensive one that Satoru bought.

“God, what would I do with you, you little devil.” Satoru chuckles then rubs Tooru’s head before picking him up in his arms. Satoru sits on the couch and opens the TV, your cat is now purring on his stomach. “Heh, your mom will be home for another hour now. And, you won’t be staying in our room for the night.”

After spending the night waiting for you while watching TV, Satoru fell asleep with Tooru still purring on his stomach, leaving the TV open. The dim light of the screen is the only source of light surrounding the apartment but it wasn't until you open the door and flick the light switch on. You were greeted by a sleeping Satoru and Tooru so you had to hold your excitement back in order to not wake them up.

My boys are so cute!

You cheer before taking a picture.

Needless to say, you had the photo put in a picture frame.

10. Gojo Satoru realizes that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

Satoru stirs awake from his sleep, his eyes start scanning the room, still engulfed with darkness with no rays of sunlight coming from the windows. The white-haired man glances at his sides to check the digital clock next to him, sitting on the nightstand. It’s already ten minutes past 3AM.

His gaze travels back to your side of the bed. There you were, so deep in a peaceful slumber as you lay on your sides, facing Satoru. He pulls the sheets of the bed up to your chest before letting out a soft chuckle. Satoru knew you were tired as hell after last night’s session since he couldn’t control himself.

His slender fingers caress your soft cheeks, your warmth traveling to his fingertips like lightning striking the grounds of the earth that sends shivers down his spine. Satoru leans in closer to you and gives you a delicate, gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips feels like petal gently touching the ground as he gives you his kisses.

“I love you,” he whispers.

Gojo Satoru couldn’t help but look forward for tomorrow and rest of the days, of the months, of the years that he will be spending with you soon. He looks forward to waking up every morning when the first thing he will be seeing is your face, he looks forward to spending peaceful days with you and Tooru, and he looks forward to spending the rest of his life with you.

From the moment Gojo Satoru enters your life, his goal from the very start was to marry you, and that’s what he’s going to do.

#jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo x reader #gojo fanfic #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru

3K notes · View notes

pbaz7 · 9 days ago

Text

AGAINST THE TIDE — PART ONE

paige x azzi

trope: enemies to lovers

warnings: language

word count: 4.3k

A/N: I got a lot of request for an enemies to lovers series so here it is! In this one they both grow up in DC/Virginia to give it a better arc and make it more of a slow burn. I'm also going to experiment with POVs more in this series. This first chapter is pretty much just setting the scene on what's caused them to dislike each other so much. Let me know what you think!

---------------------------------------------------------

March 2018

The gym was alive with the roar of fans, the bleachers packed to the brim as the Washington D.C. Girls Basketball Championship unfolded. The two teams on the court weren’t just competing for a title; they were locked in a battle of pride and supremacy that had been brewing between the schools for years.

On one side was Gonzaga College High School, led by the blonde, brash point guard Paige Bueckers, the number one player in the class of 2020. Less than 10 miles and a 20-minute drive away was St. John’s College High School, boasting its own star, Azzi Fudd, the number one player in the class of 2021.

The rivalry between their schools ran deep, stemming from heated football clashes that had been going on for decades, but it was quickly spilling over into the girls' basketball programs. Paige made sure of it. She’d been playing with a chip on her shoulder against St. John’s ever since they handed her team a bitter loss in last year’s championship game her freshman year. To her defense, she had been playing on a bum ankle after rushing herself back to help the team in the playoffs, but the sting of the loss had stayed with her. Sp every time she faced St. John’s, Paige was out to prove a point—and tonight was no different.

Azzi, meanwhile, was laser-focused. She didn’t care about last year because she wasn’t there, though she’d heard about it. But what mattered to her was this year, this game and everything going forward. But she couldn’t ignore how insufferable Paige could be. Earlier this season, Gonzaga had handed St. John’s their only loss in conference play, and Paige had been at the center of it, running her mouth the entire game.

“What’s wrong, Fudd? Can’t handle the pressure?” Paige had taunted during their first matchup, grinning as she drained a step-back three. “Don’t worry freshie—I’ll teach you how it’s done.”

Azzi had kept her composure back then as Paige chirped in her ear, but tonight was different. The stakes were higher, the score tied, and Paige was playing like she owned the court.

As Paige brought the ball up the court, her eyes scanned the defense, locking with Azzi’s. That trademark smirk spread across her face.

“Let’s see if you’ve learned anything since last time,” Paige quipped, her voice loud enough for Azzi to hear.

Azzi rolled her eyes, her hands ready, her feet planted. “Maybe you should focus more on scoring then on talking,”

Paige didn’t answer with words; she let her game speak instead. A possession later her quick crossover sent her defender stumbling, and Paige took the opening, driving hard to the rim. Azzi was there in an instant, meeting her midair and forcing her into a tough layup. The ball clanked off the rim, and Azzi grabbed the rebound, her intensity growing.

As she sprinted back down the court, she couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder. “You should really take my advice, Bueckers, that was pretty bad.”

Paige let out a breathy laugh at finally getting some words out of her, jogging to catch up. “Keep talking, Fudd. You’ll see how it ends.”

The game continued at a blistering pace, the two stars going back and forth, each trying to outshine the other and pull their team to a win. The tension on the court mirrored the years of animosity between their schools, the rivalry growing with every possession.

Azzi hit a pull-up jumper over Paige, earning a roar from the St. John’s crowd as she ran back on defense. Paige came right back, threading a no-look pass for an assist and stopping to blow a kiss to the Gonzaga section of the stands.

Every play, every word exchanged, added fuel to the fire.

For Azzi, it wasn’t just about the championship anymore. It was about shutting Paige up, proving that despite what the media said she was the best player in the DMV. For Paige, it was about reclaiming what she felt was hers—revenge for last year and dominance over St. John’s. It didn’t hurt that she was getting some competition going against the ‘best shooter’ in basketball.

The crowd could feel it: this wasn’t just any game. They were watching two greats go at it and it was rare to see two household talents come from the same area like this.

The gym pulsed with energy as the clock ticked down in the fourth quarter. Neither team could pull away, and the intensity between Paige and Azzi burned brighter with every possession.

Azzi moved with purpose, slicing through Gonzaga’s defense and rising for what looked like an easy layup. But Paige came out of nowhere, her hand swatting the ball as it went soaring into the crowd with authority.

“Get that weak shit outta here!” Paige yelled as she flexed both arms, the sound carrying over the roar of the crowd.

Azzi landed hard, her jaw tightening as Paige ran past her.

Azzi didn’t let it faze her. The next possession, she caught the ball on the wing, her defender sagging just enough to give her space. With a quick dribble, she stepped back, rising for a three-pointer that sailed over Paige’s outstretched hand and splashed through the net.

Azzi held her follow-through for a second longer than necessary, then smirked as she turned to face Paige. “You might wanna put a hand up quicker next time.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed, her grin twisting into something more dangerous. Azzi had no idea how much trash talk fueled Paige's game. “Alright, Fudd. You wanna talk shit now? Bet, watch this.”

The next few plays were a blur of brilliance, all led by Paige. She weaved through defenders with ease, hitting a floater over two St. John’s players. On the next possession, she stripped Azzi at midcourt, sprinting ahead for an uncontested finger roll to add a little extra. The Gonzaga fans erupted, sensing the tide was turning in their favor.

Azzi tried to respond, driving hard into the paint, but Paige was there again, cutting off her angle and forcing a wild layup that missed off the rim.

“Don’t force it, Fudd,” Paige taunted as she grabbed the rebound and passed the ball up the court. “This is my game now.”

Paige called for the ball on the wing, sizing up her defender before nailing a step-back three-pointer that sent the crowd into a frenzy. Gonzaga’s bench jumped to their feet, and Paige being the competitor she is, turned and gave a little shrug to the St. John’s crowd as she put her index finger to her lip showing that she had silenced them.

Azzi clenched her jaw, glaring at the scoreboard as Gonzaga’s lead stretched to eight. She could feel the championship slipping away, and Paige was at the center of it all with a cocky ass smirk.

The final buzzer sounded moments later, sealing Gonzaga’s victory. Paige’s teammates rushed the court, surrounding her as part of the gym erupted in cheers. Paige soaked it all in, her arms raised in triumph, while Azzi stood frozen near midcourt, her hands on her hips.

Azzi’s chest heaved with frustration as she watched Paige celebrate. She hates losing, but losing to Paige made it so much worse for some reason. Paige caught her eye from across the court, giving her a small, smug wave.

The Gonzaga team revealed in their championship victory, while the St. John’s players trudged back to their bench, disappointment etched on their faces.

The teams soon lined up for handshakes, the air between them still a little tense. To the crowd, it was a display of sportsmanship—players exchanging congratulatory words and polite smiles. But when Paige reached Azzi, the energy shifted.

Paige extended her hand, pulling Azzi in close as if to offer words of encouragement. Her voice dropped to a low murmur, just loud enough for Azzi to hear over the noise.

“Get in the gym, Fudd,” Paige said, her lips curving into a smug grin. “That’s what 2-0 now? Better catch up.”

Azzi’s jaw tightened, and her eyes flashed with irritation. Scoffing, she pulled back, brushing her shoulder against Paige’s as she moved past her.

“You’re such a bitch,” Azzi muttered under her breath, not bothering to look back as she continued down the line.

Paige’s grin widened as she watched her Azzi walk away, the satisfaction of the win lingering just a bit longer knowing she proved she was the number one player for a reason today.

December 2018

The rivalry between Gonzaga and St. John’s had only gotten more competitive in Paige's junior year and Azzi’s sophomore season. Every time these two teams met, the tension between Paige and Azzi electrified the gym as the crowd fed off of each of them.

Once again the gym was packed, the crowd deafening as Gonzaga and St. John’s went back and forth in a high-energy conference matchup. Paige, with her trademark poise and undeniable confidence, was on fire tonight. She was hitting everything — pull-up jumpers, threes from deep, tough finishes at the rim. With each basket, her smirk grew, and the energy around her was palpable.

By the time the fourth quarter rolled around, Gonzaga was clinging to a three-point lead. Paige, however, had already racked up 35 points and was showing no signs of slowing down. As the ball was swung to her on the perimeter, Azzi closed out hard, trying to force Paige to drive, but Paige just gave a sly grin and pulled up for a deep three-pointer as Azzi’s hand was down.

Swish.

The crowd erupted, and Paige didn’t even look at the basket as she turned to Azzi, her smirk widening.

“You might as well put on a Gonzaga jersey, Fudd,” Paige taunted, she jogged backwards to get on defense. “I’m scoring on you every time.”

Azzi’s teeth clenched, her jaw tightening as the frustration started to build. She had already been pushed to her limits with Paige’s relentless trash talk the whole game. So the next time Paige got the ball, Azzi was determined to make a play.

Paige drove past her on the right wing, using her speed and quick handle to get to the basket. Azzi did everything she could to keep up, playing great defense, but Paige made the offense look effortless, finishing with a smooth layup through contact. Paige landed on her feet, staring Azzi down as she straightened up.

“I really should start a clinic,” Paige continued, voice dripping with mock sweetness, “on how to defend me... I’ll give you some pointers after the game if you want.”

Azzi’s temper flared, the words cutting through her like a hot knife. Even the calmest person in the world got a little fed up here and there. She was feeling the heat of Paige’s relentless taunts, and the more Paige scored, the more Azzi’s focus shifted from the game to the battle unfolding between them.

When the ball was passed back to Paige, Azzi moved to cut her off, determined not to let Paige get an easy look this time. But as Paige shifted her body to drive past, Azzi made the mistake of reaching out with a little too much aggression. Her hand caught more of Paige’s arm than the ball as she went up for a shot, sending Paige tumbling to the court with a sharp thud.

The whistle blew immediately. Azzi froze, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn't meant to foul that hard, but the anger that had been building inside her made the contact feel more like a release than a mistake.

As the referee called for the foul, Azzi immediately ran her hands down her face, her face flushed with regret. She hated that she let her emotions get the best of her, especially when it came to a player like Paige. This wasn’t who Azzi was. She was better than this.

Without thinking, Azzi reached down to help Paige up, her voice soft, almost apologetic. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

But before Azzi could finish, Paige yanked her arm away, her face a mask of anger and disbelief.

“Fuck you,” Paige spat, pushing herself off the floor and standing to her full height. She didn’t look at Azzi, her eyes cold and distant, filled with a harsher fire than what Paige usually plays with.

Azzi stood frozen, the sting of Paige’s words cutting deeper than she expected them to. But she deserves it so she took it in stride. The gym felt like it was holding its breath as the physicality increased, but Azzi didn’t want to dwell on the exchange. She turned away from Paige, heading back to her position as the crowd buzzed with tension.

The game continued, and though Azzi fought to keep her head in the game, it was clear the emotional toll was taking its toll on her. Paige, on the other hand, was unstoppable. She drained another three, her confidence soaring. Gonzaga was up by five, then eight. The scoreboard ticked down, and every time Paige had the ball, it felt like another dagger.

With under a minute left, Paige hit another step-back three, this one over Azzi’s outstretched hand, and it was clear the game was over. The gym erupted as the buzzer sounded — Gonzaga had won 78-66, and Paige had just set a career-high.

As the players lined up for handshakes, Paige felt the weight of the win settle in. But she didn’t feel any empathy for Azzi. No pity. No remorse. The girl couldn’t even handle a little trash talk without purposefully fouling. Paige knew she had silenced the noise, the trash talk, and everything else with a performance that couldn’t be denied by anyone who watched the game.

When she reached Azzi in the handshake line, she extended her hand, but it was more of a formality than anything else. Paige leaned in just enough to murmur, loud enough for Azzi to hear, “Maybe next time you’ll get closer if you don’t piss me off.”

Azzi’s eyes flashed, her entire body tensing as she forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Bueckers,” she muttered, brushing past Paige without another word as she continued down the line.

Paige watched her go, the sense of satisfaction lingering, and though she didn’t say anything, she knew Azzi wouldn’t forget this game.

…

Azzi adjusted the strap of her bag, her knee still a little sore as she limped out of the locker room with Ice packs wrapped on her leg. The sting of the loss was fresh, and the energy in the hallway was a mix of chaos and adrenaline. Reporters lingered around the halls, their voices carrying snippets of postgame chatter as they jostled to capture every quote.

Azzi tried to tune it out, focusing on getting to the bus. She was already replaying the game in her mind, agonizing over missed shots and what-ifs. But as she passed the press conference room, a question snagged her attention.

“Paige, what was it like playing in such a competitive matchup with someone who’s also considered one of the top players in DC if not the entire nation?”

Azzi slowed, her ears pricking at the mention of her name—or, at least, the implication of it. She paused just out of sight, listening.

There was a brief pause, then Paige’s voice cut through the chatter. Calm, confident, and just loud enough for Azzi to hear.

“I always love a competitive matchup,” Paige said, her tone light but unmistakably self-assured. “Games like that are what make basketball fun. It’s why I play. I love when there’s passion in the game like that.”

Azzi felt her shoulders relax slightly. That wasn’t so bad.

But then Paige kept going.

“That being said, I think I showed everyone why I’m the number one player in D.C. tonight and my team was able to come out with the win.”

The words hung in the air, and Azzi’s jaw tightened. Paige’s voice had an edge to it—a playful jab, but one that landed a little too close to home.

Gripping the strap of her bag tighter, Azzi moved down the hallway. She wasn’t going to let Paige’s words get to her, but damn if they didn’t light a fire under her for the next time they met.

March 2019

St. John’s and Gonzaga met once again in the championship game and honestly to Paige and Azzi it felt like deja vu. To everyone else watching this was the matchup they had grown to anticipate. The two guards always putting on a show. It wasn’t just about the title anymore; it was personal. Paige and Azzi both had more to prove than anyone on the court.

Azzi, standing tall at the top of the game and undeniably one of the best in the country, wasn’t about to let herself walk away with an 0-4 record against the cocky blonde. She’d been putting in the work all season, and despite the gnawing frustration of those past losses, she was determined to make this game different. But there was also something else driving her — the weight of being named Gatorade’s National Girls Basketball Player of the Year, as a sophomore. The title had earned her respect across the nation, but not in Paige’s eyes.

For Paige, that honor felt like a slap in the face. She had dominated the court all year, and everyone knew she was the best in her class and had beaten Azzi already this season. For Azzi to get that recognition before her, it stung more than Paige would care to admit to anyone. It was the kind of fire that pushed her to fight harder, to prove that no sophomore was going to overshadow her. She had something to prove — not just to Azzi, but to herself.

As the game tipped off, it was clear that neither of them had any intention of holding back. Azzi, with her perfect shot and effortless off ball movement, seemed to hit shots that defied logic. A step-back three from the corner with a hand in her face? Swish. A deep three from the logo, well beyond NBA range? No problem. The crowd erupted every time her shot dropped, but Paige wasn’t about to let Azzi get too comfortable.

On the other end of the floor, Paige was doing her thing: a mixture of quick ball-handling, aggressive drives to the basket, and, of course, her signature flashy layups that got the crowd involved. One of them, a twisting, acrobatic finish through a crowd of defenders, had the crowd gasping in awe. She flashed a grin as she jogged back on defense, eyes locked on Azzi, who was already making her way down the court.

“You’re not gonna be able to keep up again, Fudd,” Paige taunted, her voice loud enough for Azzi to hear as she took her position. “This is my game, you’re just along for the ride.”

Azzi smirked, not breaking her focus as she got into her shooting stance. “We’ll see when this game’s over,” she shot back, her confidence unwavering.

The back-and-forth continued like that throughout the first half, neither player willing to back down. Every time Paige hit a flashy layup, Azzi came back with a deep three. Every time Azzi sank another impossible shot, Paige answered with a smooth jump shot of her own. The crowd was on its feet the entire time, watching two of the most talented players in the nation go toe-to-toe, each one refusing to give an inch.

But as the game wore on, the pressure started to mount. With the score neck-and-neck, the trash talk grew sharper, each jab cutting deeper. Azzi, with a quick hesitation move, crossed Paige up and drilled another three in her face. The crowd went wild as Azzi celebrated, but it was the words that followed that set Paige off.

“I guess that Gatorade Player of the Year really means something, huh?” Azzi quipped, her smile wide and taunting. “I think I earned that one, Bueckers.”

The words hit Paige like a punch to the gut. That recognition — the one that had bothered her for weeks — was now in Azzi’s hands, and the realization that Azzi had just used it against her was too much to handle.

Paige’s eyes narrowed, the fire inside her intensifying.

“Keep talking, man,” Paige snarled, voice low.

The rest of the game continued and Azzi seemed to be in complete control, hitting another deep three in Paige's face and then hitting a step-back jumper that had the crowd roaring. Paige tried to respond, but something in her game was off — whether it was Azzi’s defense or the mounting frustration of the game and the award Azzi had rubbed in her face, she couldn’t find her rhythm anymore.

With the game winding down, St. John’s had gained a slight but undeniable lead. Paige’s shots weren’t falling as easily as they had earlier, and Azzi wasn’t letting up. Each time Paige tried to make a play, Azzi was right there, forcing her to pass or making her take tough looks.

Finally, with just seconds left, Azzi hit another clutch three, sealing the game for St. John’s and finally giving her a win over Paige. The buzzer went off, and Azzi’s team erupted in celebration, the crowd going wild. Paige, on the other hand, stood frozen for a moment, her chest heaving as the weight of the loss hit her a little harder than it did her freshman year.

As the teams lined up for the post-game handshake, Azzi walked toward Paige, her smile wide with triumph. When they shook hands, Azzi didn’t hold back.

“Guess it’s 1-1 when it counts, huh? Looks like POTY went to the right player after all,” Azzi said, the words dripping with satisfaction.

Paige’s heart felt like it sank to her stomach. The Gatorade loss had already stung, but now Azzi was rubbing salt in the wound. Still, Paige held her composure, her eyes narrowing as she shook Azzi’s hand.

“Congratulations,” Paige muttered, forcing a smile. Paige hated losing but she wasn’t a sore loser.

But Azzi wasn’t done. As she walked past Paige, she threw in one final jab.

“Maybe you’ll get it next year.” Azzi’s tone was sweet, but the smirk on her face said it all.

Paige watched Azzi go, her jaw clenched tightly. She wanted to say something, anything, to retort, but she knew the damage had already been done. Azzi had gotten her win — and the bragging rights. For now, Paige would have to swallow this defeat and figure out how to come back stronger and take the jabs that were coming her way.

July 2019 - Azzi POV

I was on top of the world. After winning the championship and being named the Gatorade National Girls Basketball Player of the Year, I felt like nothing could stop me. Playing in the US Under 18 3x3 Tournament was everything I’d worked for, and I was thriving out there. Every move I made felt perfect, every shot dropping like it was scripted. The crowd was eating it up, and I was feeding off the energy.

But just like that, everything changed.

I was driving to the hoop, sizing up my defender, already thinking ahead to my next move to get past them. My first step was quick, explosive like always — exactly how I’d practiced it a thousand times. I planted my foot to make a sharp cut, my body flowing into the motion like it was second nature. But then… something snapped.

It wasn’t the sound of my foot hitting the court. It was a horrible, sickening pop that shot through my leg like it had been on fire. For a split second, everything froze, and I just knew.

My knee. It wasn’t supposed to buckle like that. I didn’t even have time to scream as the pain hit, like a burning wave spreading from my knee up my leg, down to my toes, into my core. I collapsed instantly, my hands going straight to my knee, trying to hold it together as if somehow that would stop the agony.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I couldn’t focus on anything except that searing pain.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, my voice cracking as I tried to breathe through it, my hands gripping my knee as if I could will the pain away. But it only intensified.

I couldn’t move. Every attempt to shift only made it worse. It was like my entire leg was on fire. I barely heard my teammates rushing to my side, their voices muffled as if I was underwater. All I could think was, This isn’t just a twist. This isn’t something I can shake off.

I knew it — deep down, I knew something was wrong. My knee felt swollen already, pulsing with heat. The pop I heard didn’t sound good. Please, please don’t be serious, I thought, even though I knew better.

“Azzi, what hurts,” my coach said, kneeling beside me, but I barely registered it. All I could think about was how unfair this was. I was supposed to be dominating, supposed to keep riding this wave of success. I was invincible, damn it.

But now, here I was, on the ground, clutching my knee like it was my lifeline — and I had no idea what was next.

The pain started to build, and my mind raced. ACL? No, MCL? My head spun with all the worst-case scenarios. This wasn’t how I imagined this tournament going. This wasn’t how I’d imagined anything going this summer.

My chest tightened as I sat there, trying not to lose it in front of everyone. I didn’t want to break down, didn’t want to show them how scared I was. But I could feel the tears threatening to spill. I wiped them away, blinking rapidly, but it didn’t matter. My body was shaking.

I just wanted to be back on the court. I wanted to keep proving myself, keep pushing. But in that moment, all I could do was sit there and hold my knee, hoping like hell this wasn’t the end.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

258 notes · View notes