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zekepng · 7 months ago

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𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘

One evening, a familiar neighbour approaches you and requests a favour, even though it's late. You willingly assist him and he doesn't let you leave without generously rewarding you for your helpfulness.

Milkman (Francis Mosses) one shot, explicit content - fanart: Yunonoai on twitter

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As you settle into your seat, you feel your eyelids growing heavy from the gentle sway. It's a quiet Sunday, with only a few souls venturing through. It seems like the majority of the neighbours have chosen to stay home and take a break today.

You found some satisfaction in your job, despite your preference for being at home on a Sunday.

At least you're earning a paycheck for your efforts to do nothing.

Just like magic, the elevator doors glide open, as if anticipating your thoughts. You awaken, your gaze drawn to the window shielding your office. Anastacha glances in your direction, offering a brief wave and a smile before gracefully heading towards the exit.

You reciprocate the gesture, ensuring there are no witnesses nearby.

Before slipping on your headphones, you steal a quick glance at the clock on the wall, hoping to see the hand inching closer to ten, but it's barely making its way to eight.

Once again, as if following a precise rhythm, your tired eyes gently close.

Until the sound of forceful pounding against the glass abruptly jolts them awake. You find yourself on the edge of your seat, suddenly snapping upright in a state of sheer panic.

You abruptly lose track of your surroundings, momentarily transported from your peaceful bed to an unfamiliar place.

You find yourself sinking into the uncomfortable chair, feeling the strain in your back as you gaze out through the transparent barrier that separates you from the outside world. You can't help but feel a rush of surprise as you lay your eyes on the towering figure before you, his gentle smile adding a touch of warmth to the scene.

"Long shift?" He asks, his head slightly tilted. His gentle, deep brown eyes fixate on you, capturing a flicker of delight in your astonished expression.

"Francis," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. You remove the headphones from your ears and sit up straight in your chair.

As per his usual attire, he wears a pristine white shirt and sleek black trousers, complemented by a stylish black bow tie. With his trademark white hat perched atop his tousled brown silk hair, it's clear that he's having a particularly dishevelled day.

“Did I startle you?” He asks, his voice carrying a sense of innocence as he gently removes his hat from his head.

You tear your eyes away from his, only to steal a quick glance at the clock, hoping to catch any sign of time passing. You find it shocking that what seemed like an eternity actually lasted a mere half an hour. "Well, I never expected anyone to approach me," you murmur softly.

"My apologies, (y/n)," he says with a playful laugh, “but I need you to get into my apartment.”

As you regain consciousness, a wave of disorientation washes over you. You gaze at him with a bewildered expression, desperately trying to comprehend his words. Suddenly, he utters, "My keys, (y/n). You have my keys, just like you do every day.”

Your cheeks flush as a wave of embarrassment washes over you, all while he stares at you with a gentle smile, almost bordering on a smirk. “Sorry, it’s been a long night.” You casually reach over and take his house keys from the hook.

“I guess I’m not the only forgetful one here,” he chuckles, clutching the keys to his truck in his hand.

During your week of working here, you formed a pact with Francis. Because of his tendency to forget, he would often misplace one of his keys and ask for a spare. In order to avoid this recurring issue, you both decided to make an arrangement where his keys would be kept downstairs at your desk.

As he inches towards the glass, a sense of confusion washes over you until he finally says, “I have another favour I need you to do for me.”

“Which is?” You ask, carefully examining his features. You trace the contours of his nose, gradually becoming absorbed in your own thoughts—lewd thoughts.

You find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him as he talks.

The gaze in his almond-shaped eyes carries a captivating yet mysterious allure.

Every time he passes by, his demeanour seems gloomy, but a flicker of joy illuminates his eyes when he catches a glimpse of you. However, that happiness quickly dissipates as his smile vanishes.

You can't help but imagine the intense gaze and the heated encounter as he bends you over your desk and fucks you senseless.

Your mind is swirling with questions like, What noise does he make? Is he loud? Would he fuck you good? Is it big?

It has to be big.

There is a mysterious presence about him that eludes comprehension, yet it holds you captivated.

“So, can I?” He asks, jolting you back to reality as you realise you've completely zoned out and missed his entire conversation.

You find yourself shaking your head in disbelief, struggling to process his words. However, your mind becomes overwhelmed with a flurry of unanswered questions. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that for me?”

“I asked if I could place a few of my milk trays in your office as I unload them from my truck? It’s far colder there than it is out here,” he asks, causing your eyes to cautiously shift between his face and the office floor, contemplating if they would even fit.

“It’s just so that I don’t have to keep going to my truck all the way to the third floor.” He includes this detail in an effort to convince.

You're still apprehensive because it's against the rules to allow residents into the office, even for a brief period of time. “I don’t think I can let you in here, Francis.” You admit, a hint of guilt creeps into your expression.

"Come on," he pleads, his head tilting and his hands clasping together in a prayer-like gesture. “Please, it will only be for a few minutes, (y/n).”

His voice trembles and his eyes become gentle, almost melting you with their intensity.

"It's late, and this secret can stay between us," he pleads, his voice filled with desperation. “I promise I’ll reward you for being good to me, (y/n).” It’s almost as if the use of him saying your name was a kryptonite to you.

Every atom of your being trembles as your name escapes out of his mouths, sending shivers down your spine.

“Fine,” you reluctantly concede, succumbing to his pleading stare. “Just be quick.”

In a matter of moments, he effortlessly reveals a sly grin, his expression as stoic as ever, as he casually lowers his hands by his side. "You’re the best,” he exclaims while placing his hat back on his head and stepping back outside.

You cautiously lean back in your chair, then rise to your feet and unlock the office door. Before proceeding, you cautiously survey your surroundings, ensuring that no prying eyes are present.

The last thing you desire is to attract unwanted attention and risk being reported for violating any regulations.

As you gently nudge the door, you lean against it, ensuring it stays ajar, eagerly anticipating Francis swift return from his truck. As time passes, you observe him effortlessly using his back to swing open the door of the building. He then pivots and starts making his way towards you.

You watch as he carefully balances two crates, one on top of the other, brimming with delicate glass milk bottles. You watch as he effortlessly carries the heavy crates into the office, his white shirt rolled up to reveal his strong forearms adorned with prominent veins.

You can't help but have your attention fixated on him, like an annoying, persistent fly.

"I only have two more to carry," he says, walking past you once more before vanishing outside.

You eagerly anticipate his return, and when he finally enters the building, he is drenched from the rain. You can't help but notice how his shirt is nearly transparent, allowing a glimpse of his skin underneath.

As raindrops trickle down his face, they leave a trail of glistening droplets in their wake.

As he enters the office with the two crates, you quietly trail behind him, allowing the door to gently shut behind you. You watch as he carefully places the crates on top of each other, his gaze sweeping across the office before he straightens up.

You watch as Francis takes off his hat, his face filled with a sense of relief. I can help you carry these up to your apartment, however, in order to do so, I'll need the key to the truck," you mention, extending your hand towards him.

You find yourself captivated by his stare as he gently places the keys in your open hand. As you casually swap the truck key for the flat key, his gaze remains fixated on you.

As you turn around to face him, you find yourself taken aback as you come face to face with him, your eyes widening in surprise at his close proximity.

His towering presence looms above you, his hand poised near the switch that will lower the shutter. You find yourself struggling to control your breathing, as if your breath has been captured by an unseen force.

“Did you think I forgot about your reward?” His voice says, sending shivers down your spine while also captivating your senses.

Without uttering a single sound, he proceeds to push the switch, causing the shutters to gradually descend, leaving only you and him in the office.

"I didn't think you were serious," you mutter, struggling to articulate your thoughts.

As he takes the keys from your grasp, his touch is tender as he delicately cradles your chin with his other hand. You find yourself instinctively retreating as he moves closer, your back pressing against the edge of your desk. “Good girls deserve to be rewarded, (y/n).”

“And you’re a good girl for helping me, aren’t you, (y/n)?” He asks, gently caressing your lips with his thumb.

You fix your eyes on him, a gaze brimming with intense desire. You find yourself completely immobilised and unable to utter a single word, ensnared in a captivating spell cast by his presence.

You want him to tear your clothes off and fuck you savagely as if you were animals.

In the blink of an eye, his tender caress transforms into something forceful. You watch as his hand swiftly clamps around your jaw, his eyes filled with intensity. "Say it," he demands, his voice filled with authority.

In any other circumstance, fear might consume you, but instead, a surge of pleasure courses through your body, intensifying the throbbing sensation between your legs.

You swallow nervously before quietly admitting, "I am."

"Good," he murmurs, loosening his hold on your jaw as he draws you closer to him. Out of nowhere, he surprises you by gently placing his lips against yours, leaving you completely stunned.

You feel the warmth of his body as your hands instinctively glide up his neck, drawn to his touch. You can't help but be drawn to his kisses, even though they're sloppy.

They are filled with a raw and intense passion that ignites something deep within you. You feel a gentle bite on your bottom lip, and a soft moan emerges from your throat as he takes the chance to slide his tongue through.

You can sense the heat coursing through your veins, which is matched only by the rapid thumping of your heart.

As he shifts back, a brief strand of saliva lingers between you both, only to be swiftly followed by another passionate kiss. You find yourself captivated by the gentle gaze in his eyes as he slowly moves his lips from yours to the tender skin of your neck.

You feel a soft nibble on your neck, followed by a gentle whisper in your ear, “Sit on the desk.”

You find yourself completely mesmerised by his every word, unable to resist his intriguing presence. You obediently follow the directions, concealing any signs of bewilderment. You settle yourself on the desk, feeling a slight breeze as your skirt lifts slightly.

You reach out to mend it, but he abruptly halts your movement. His hands gently lift yours away from your thighs, finding their place on either side of you.

You watch as he gracefully lowers himself to the ground, effortlessly sinking to his knees right in front of you.

You find yourself at a loss for words as you experience the sensation of his hands enveloping your thighs, gently guiding you closer to the edge of the desk.

You feel the gentle touch of his lips against the sensitive skin of your thighs, eliciting a soft gasp as you tilt your head back in response.

You feel a gentle tug on your thong, as it gracefully slides down your leg and is set aside.

You adjust your skirt higher, feeling a sudden warmth on your cheeks as you become aware of your vulnerability.

You're captivated by the intensity of his eyes, lost in the moment as he delicately positions your legs over his shoulder, drawing you nearer without disrupting the desk.

You observe him with anticipation and a heightened sense of desire as he approaches your cunt. You find yourself biting your lip, a soft whimper escaping your lips as his warm tongue playfully dances around your clit, sending waves of teasing pleasure through your body.

The tip of his tongue delicately explores and teases your pussy.

Unexpectedly, he inserts two fingers into your wet hole, eliciting a chorus of pleasure-filled sounds from your lips.

You slowly glide your hand through his soft, lustrous brown hair, then firmly grasp it as he skillfully moves his fingers in and out of you, simultaneously using his tongue to pleasure your most sensitive spot.

You are consumed by an overwhelming surge of tension, which sends waves of pleasure cascading through your entire being. "Oh fuck," you gasp, your voice filled with desire, as you tightly grip his hair.

You can feel the intensity building as his tongue quickens its pace, sending waves of tension through your body. Just as the knot of anticipation reaches its peak, he eases off, gradually slowing down.

You feel a rush of pleasure as his fingers move in and out of you, perfectly synchronised with the skillful movements of his tongue. It's as if he knows exactly how to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.

As if to intensify the sensation, he adds a third finger into your dripping pussy, causing you to cry out, "Francis, please!" His tongue quickens its pace once more, heightening the pleasure even more.

You sense your proximity drawing near. You can feel the heat building up inside you, your breath quickening and your toes curling in pleasure as he expertly stimulates you with his slender fingers. "I'm getting close," You struggle to utter the three simple words, your voice trembling with emotion.

Out of nowhere, he abruptly withdraws his mouth from you, yet his fingers remain inside, delving deeper and deeper.

You're hooked by the intense stare he directs towards you, his eyes filled with a mysterious allure. A blend of your fluids and his spit moistens his mouth as he slowly smirks at you.

Author's note: part 2 is pending... ಇ

#francis mosses #thats not my neighbor #thats not my neighbour one shot #francis mosses x reader #zekepng #smut #one shot #one shot smut

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ayyy-pee · 9 months ago

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Chapter 11 - Kickflip

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Female Reader, Choso Kamo x Female Reader

Summary: You and Choso take things to the next level.

Genre: Skater AU

Chapter Warning: Smut,P in V Sexy Time, Cunnilingus, Phone Sex, Profanity, Mutual Masturbation?, Masturbation, Unprotected Sex (don't be like them - WRAP IT UP), Creampie (at least we're on bc), Possessive Sex, Possessive Behavior

A/N: thanks for your patience on this one! i took my time because i REALLY wanted to do this chapter justice. it's been a LONG journey to get here. this chapter ended up being JUST under 12k words omg. I hope yall enjoy!

When Choso pulls back, you find yourself chasing him, a small whine falling from your lips before you can even try to stop it. It’s pathetic really, how eager you are to be close to him after just this short time apart. He’s traveled for competition longer than this and yet, now that you’ve gotten a small dose of what life would be like without Choso within your reach, you’re positive that you never want to experience it again.

He chuckles softly, thumb caressing your cheek as you stare up at him. Those beautiful brown eyes of his seem to almost glow in the dark, hypnotizing you. You're not sure if you’d ever gotten lost in anyone's eyes the way you do Choso's. You’re so lost in them you barely notice when his lips begin to move, calling your name quietly. You only snap out of your daze when Choso cups your jaw in his hand and leans forward to press a soft kiss to your cheek.

“So…” He looks away for a moment. Like he’s wondering if it’s worth asking. But it must be because he asks anyway, “how did the conversation go?”

Ah, right. With everything that had happened tonight, and the intensity of it all, you had forgotten you let Choso know you would be heading to Suguru’s to talk.

Earlier that evening…

You’d called Choso before texting Suguru that you were heading his way. He was a little taken aback since the first thing that had left your big mouth after Choso said “hello” was “I’m on my way to Suguru’s place”.

“Huh…” was all Choso could muster.

You quickly scrambled to recover. It probably wasn’t the best idea to start off your first conversation in days by telling him you were heading to the apartment of the man he despises.

“Sorry! What I meant to say is I’m heading over to Suguru’s…to end things. For good.”

“Oh.”

The silence hung heavily between the both of you and you wondered if maybe you’d gotten the wrong idea from the voice message Choso had left you. Perhaps when he said he wanted the chance to sit down and talk, he truly meant he simply wanted to talk, and maybe end this messy affair you had dragged him into. And if that were the case, could you really blame him?

“He’s here by the way,” Choso mutters, pulling you out of your anxious thoughts. “At the park…” It’s then that you can hear the distant sound of wheels on pavement, so familiar to you after all this time.

“Oh, that’s awkward.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, though it’s only been some days, you hear that cute little puff of air that you know as the sound of Choso trying to hold in a laugh. It makes you smile. You wonder if he’s smiling with you.

“Will you be okay going alone?” He asks.

Would you? You were nervous, of course. You’d become accustomed to having Suguru in your life regardless of how awful he was. But you had no doubt in your mind that this needed to happen. In order to secure your future, in order to show the man on the other end of this call that you were serious about him, you needed to do this – alone.

You inhale deeply, trying to steel your nerves. “Yeah. I– It’s gonna suck, but I’m ready to let this go…to let him go.”

You hear Choso hum distantly on the other end, followed by a light tapping noise just before you feel your phone vibrate. Oddly enough, it’s a text from Choso.

ChoCho: It’s getting weird. He thinks I don’t see him watching me from across the park.

ChoCho: I’m gonna hang up. Good luck over there. Come meet me here when you’re done? We can talk.

The line goes dead…

You shake your head, bringing yourself back to the present. Choso’s question echoes in your thoughts. “How did the conversation go?”

“Not well,” you finally answer. “But that’s not my problem anymore.”

To this, Choso hums. “No, not anymore. Are you alright, though?”

Choso’s voice is gentle when he speaks, concern evident in his tone. He’s still holding your cheek, eyes scanning your face and your hand comes up to hold his wrist. You nod.

He is so perfect. You wish you had realized it sooner. You would have saved yourself, but more importantly Choso so much pain.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just…” Your words are failing you now, at the worst moment and you bite down on your lip as you try to gather your thoughts. Choso waits patiently for you, as always, and it makes you bite down just a bit harder. You know you don’t deserve him. You’re the lucky one here; the real winner between this fucked up love triangle you’ve been forcing everyone into over the last few months.

His dark, piercing eyes bore into yours, and the kindness and care you see in them makes you tear up. The tears prickle along your waterline and you almost want to throw your arms around his neck so you can bury your face and hide your tears there.

“I’m so sorry, Choso,” you breathe shakily. He holds your gaze steadily. He’s always steady. Never wavering. The security he provides you only makes you more emotional and you have to swallow down the sob that's threatening to come. “Really…I can’t even begin to tell you how fucking sorry I am.”

“You have no reason to be sorry.”

“Stop, I do!” You argue, voice rising. He always gives you grace, always finds a way to make it seem like you weren’t a piece of shit stringing him along. He’s only ever truly been upset with you once, that you know of - the day of the photoshoot. It was the first time you’d seen Choso lose his composure, really show how upset he was with you and this whole situation.

And while you want to tell him to yell at you, stop excusing your actions, to be angry with you – because honestly, he should be furious with you – you know better than anyone by now that Choso wears his heart on his sleeve. What he feels in the moment, you’ll see, without hesitation. So, you inhale deeply, calming yourself before you continue. The last thing you want to do is turn this into some big spectacle, although there’s no one around to actually witness it this late at night.

“I’ve been dragging you along all this time, Choso. And you…you’ve been so patient and so kind and understanding when you didn’t have to be. I’m just…so sorry.”

Choso purses his lips as he takes your hand in his and squeezes softly. “I chose to stick around because I wanted to.” He brings your hand up to his mouth, presses his lips gently to your palm with a sweet kiss. “Because you were worth it.” Another kiss to your hand. “I just needed you to realize you were worth it, too.”

Your vision blurs, hot tears falling from your eyes and rolling down your cheeks. You don’t want to cry in front of Choso. You don’t deserve to cry in front of him, but when you left Suguru’s and rushed to the park, you didn’t have much hope. You fully expected Choso to tell you he was done with you, that this was over.

You’d expected a “thanks for ending it with that loser, but it’s too late”. And you would have had to swallow that and accept it. It would have simply been your karma. So to be sitting here with Choso who sprinkles kisses along your skin…Well, the overwhelming thought of the night ending very differently has your emotions running wild.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you meet Choso’s gaze. His eyes have hardly left yours for a moment, even as he places delicate little pecks to your wrist, up your forearm. He leans forward, lips continuing their path as he kisses your shoulder. You tilt your head to the side so he has the space to trail those sweet kisses up your neck. And then he’s running his lips along your jaw, up your cheek.

The skatepark is empty, the only evidence of anyone around being the soft sighs from Choso and your quiet gasps when his lips touch the spots he knows make your knees weak.

And even in this wide open space, the air inside the little bubble that you and Choso reside in already feels thick with desire. With the way Choso licks at the most sensitive areas of your neck, groans quietly against your skin, you have an idea of where this night is soon to be headed.

You’re ready.

“Cho–”

You don’t have the opportunity to finish, the sound of Choso’s broken name falling uselessly between you as Choso seals his mouth over yours. Every kiss is tender, almost hesitant. It’s careful.

Just so Choso.

And that’s all that’s on your mind; the incredible man before you – Choso…

…who cups your cheek so gently as he pulls away and he asks…

“Will you…” A whisper into the kiss, and your brain is still stuck on Choso…

…whose soft lips caress yours again, just for a moment before he speaks once more…

“Come…”

You’ll go anywhere with him. Anywhere with Choso…

…who kisses you again, more passionately this time.

“Back to my place?”

And you nod without delay, because you have only a single thought rattling around in that head of yours…and it’s Choso.

- - - - - -

The air seems to have only gotten thicker between the two of you.

Choso had offered to follow you home, waited for you to pack your things and take you back to his place. It was then that the mood truly began to shift. From the moment you’d slid into the passenger seat of Choso’s car, it became a matter of whether or not you and Choso would even make it through the threshold of his home without tearing the other’s clothes off, the unspoken anticipation slowly eating at both your patience.

After placing your bag in the back of his car, Choso leaned over to grab the seat belt and buckle you in.

It wasn’t as if that was the first time Choso had done that for you. He always made sure to get the door for you, strap you in, ensure your safety. But this time, as Choso pulled the belt around your body, hand lingering so close to your chest, there was this spark of electricity between you that felt so intense, you could swear you heard it buzzing throughout the vehicle, felt it tingling along your skin. You know Choso felt it, too. You could see the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, and how he was careful not to touch you when he quickly secured the belt around you and clicked you in before putting the car in gear and driving off.

It happened once more when you finally pulled up to Choso’s house. Too in your own head and not paying attention, you’d opened your car door without looking only to run straight into Choso’s hard chest. He caught you easily, both arms wrapping around your waist to hold you steady while your palms rested flat against his pecks.

And there was that buzz again, radiating heavily between the two of you. The spark had always been there between you and Choso. This low, constant hum that kept steady. But tonight…tonight, this electricity felt dangerous, in the most exciting way.

You watch Choso’s gaze drift to your mouth, watch how his tongue pokes in his cheek. He’s kissed you already tonight, but he seems hesitant now. His hands grip onto the fabric of your clothes like he wants to pull you into him but he’s resisting the urge.

Maybe he thinks you’re not ready to take the next step with him. Or maybe he’s trying to take things slow for his own sake. Knowing Choso, he probably doesn’t want to give you the wrong idea. Doesn’t want you to think he only asked you to stay over because he’s trying to sleep with you. Another thing you really like about him, but you don’t give a shit about that right now.

Your heart is racing, pounding against your ribcage in anticipation. You’ve only got eyes for this man and you want him to wreck you. And it’s apparent he wants to do the same. You see the desire in his eyes, the way his pupils are so dilated his eyes are practically black as he stares down at you.

Your pulse quickens the longer you match his gaze. Then you finally speak, a hushed “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Yeah?” Choso asks. You feel his hands tracing up and down your spine and your skin ignites with goosebumps.

“Yes.”

“And what exactly were you thinking?” His voice comes out rougher, raspier than normal and it only sets the small fire in your core ablaze.

“That I couldn’t wait to be with you…be alone with you.”

“Hmm.” His tongue slides along his bottom lip and your eyes snap down to the motion.

You want to kiss him again, taste his tongue on yours and have him taste you.

��Do you want me?” He questions. His hand slowly slides down to rest on the small of your back and just his touch has you so turned on you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning out into the night.

“So badly, Choso,” you confess. Choso watches you squirm beneath his touch, trying to contain yourself. He’s trying to do the same, but he’s slowly losing the battle.

Every time you speak, every time you peer up at him with those pretty eyes and even prettier lips, he’s that much closer to losing himself to you. And he knows he will lose himself in you once he has you completely. Your taste has haunted Choso since spending your first night together. The memory of your mouth on him has taken over his thoughts more times than he can count. He daydreams of you constantly.

He needs you.

Choso releases his hold on you, then reaches into the back seat of his car and grabs your overnight bag. “We should get inside then.” He tells you. He swiftly turns around and you practically run after him, following him towards the entrance.

When you reach the front door, Choso lays his hand on the doorknob. Instead of turning it, he pauses briefly, then turns to you. And his stare shoots straight to your core. It reminds you of the very first time you’d ever been intimate with each other. Your cheeks warm and your heart thrums excitedly in your chest. You don’t dare look away.

Time seems to stand still, even as Choso pushes the door to his home open. Even as he takes your hand in his and lifts it to his lips, eyes still locked onto yours.

And your head swims once again with nothing but thoughts of Choso…

…who has never been anything but patient, kind and gentle with you…

…which is why it shocks you just a bit when Choso roughly slams his bedroom door, pinning you between it and his large body. His lips capture yours hungrily, greedily, desperately. Like kissing you is what keeps his heart beating. Your thoughts are foggy, Choso the only thing on your mind. You feel lightheaded from the intoxicating way Choso kisses you right now. You think you’ll float away if he stops.

He breaks the kiss, groaning when you take his bottom lip in your teeth and suck lightly. “Can I ask you something?” He mutters when you release him. There’s a crimson hue that has now appeared on Choso’s cheeks and spread to the tips of his ears. It’s so cute.

You make a mental note that it seems when Choso is feeling shy or nervous, that’s where he blushes the hardest.

“Anything,” you answer easily.

Choso bites down on his lip, looking you over. When his eyes settle on yours again, there’s something different in them, something hungry. His gaze falls back to your mouth and your breath hitches in your throat when you feel Choso gently press his thumb to your lips. You hear his sharp intake of breath, thumb gently caressing along your bottom lip.

Then he kisses you, his thumb still on your lips, like he’s so desperate to taste you that he couldn’t be bothered to move it. It’s quick, one or two pecks and then he’s back to absentmindedly watching his thumb stroke along your mouth again.

Every kiss is becoming more and more dizzying, has your heart beating so fast, and so hard that you think if Choso leans just an inch closer, he’ll be able to hear it.

And if only you knew that if you leaned just an inch closer, you would hear his own heart clawing at his ribcage as he asks, “Are you mine now?”

Your hands find Choso’s chest and you ball the fabric between your fists, confident when you answer him. “Yes.”

And it’s true; you’re his.

But your answer doesn’t satisfy the man before you just yet. You see it in the frown line that forms between his brows, in the way his eyes stare into yours, searching.

“I need you to say it,” he demands. His large hands grip your waist now, and he’s leaning forward to press his forehead to yours, eyes drifting shut as he inhales deeply. “I need to hear you say that you’re mine now…just mine. Nobody else’s…” Choso’s hold tightens, only slightly. “Because you have no idea how much I want you right now. I want…” He pauses, taking another deep breath. “No, I need you to be mine. I won’t share you again.”

Your pulse picks up, the need in Choso’s voice only making your heart slam faster, if that’s even possible. You loop your arms around Choso’s neck, pulling him down just enough for your lips to touch. You want him to hear it when you say it. You want him to feel it when you say it. Feel it against him, feel it in him. And know that you mean it.

“I’m yours, Choso,” you whisper against his lips, and you can feel him melt into your embrace, a heavy sigh leaving him as he presses himself into you. “Only yours.”

Choso’s mouth finds yours, lips slotting against you, greedily swallowing every moan you let out as his hands trace a path to your waistband. He toys with the fabric between his fingers for a while, his lips now busy kissing and sucking what you’re sure are marks into your neck. This is a side of possessiveness you haven’t seen in Choso before.

It’s so fucking arousing. The way Choso tugs at your waistband, how he nips at the skin on your neck just before he runs his tongue over the mark to soothe the sting. You’re whimpering with every bite. You’re so painfully turned on, you can’t help but to push your hips forward, meeting Choso’s hard length confined within his pants. Then it’s Choso’s turn to whimper, face buried in your neck as he meets your hips, pressing himself into your groin again and again.

Choso wants to have you so badly, he can’t think straight right now. All he knows is that he wants you, and you want him. That you told him you’re his, and he’s always been yours. His heart swells with this news. This type of happiness is foreign to him, but he wants to get used to it…with you.

He kisses his way down to your collarbone, where he sucks new marks as his hips continue to grind into yours, pressing you harder and harder against the door. Your skin, your sweat, your taste on his tongue is intoxicating, and he only wants to have more.

“There’s so many things I wanna do to you,” he rasps, as he tugs at your waistband again.

“Yeah? Like what?”

To this, Choso hums as he leans back to look at you. “Honestly?”

Your brow arches, a slow grin spreading along your face. “Have you ever been anything but honest?”

“No.” He chuckles. “I always say what I mean. I always mean what I say.” He’s kissing along your neck again, pulling moan after moan from you as he breathes into your skin, “I wanna taste you, love.”

Love.

It’s not like Choso is telling you he loves you. It’s simply a term of endearment. And yet, the pet name has your silly little head spinning.

“Wanna make you cum on my tongue again.” He trails kisses down your throat, your chest, talking to you along the way. “You know the first time you did it?” He scoffs to himself, like he can’t believe that happened. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it for weeks. I still think about it.”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, watching Choso’s slow descent along your abdomen, where he leaves sweet smooches along the way.

“I’ve been thinking about doing it again…” He’s on his knees now, fingers still hooked into the waistband of your pants. He kisses your left hip and your mouth falls open with a quiet sigh, clearly a sensitive spot for you. “Been hoping to do it again. So please…” Choso leans over, kisses your right hip and you can’t help the broken whimper falling from your lips. He peers up at you, brown eyes blown out with lust as he asks, “Will you let me taste you?”

You don’t know if you’ve ever seen a sexier thing. This man who has quickly become everything to you, on his knees, begging for you to let him have a taste of you…

Suddenly you’re very aware of the extreme wetness pooling between your legs. You feel self-conscious for all of a second before you meet Choso’s lustful stare again. How could you deny him when he so clearly craves you?

You place your hands on top of his, pushing down and letting Choso drag your pants and panties all the way to your ankles before you kick them off to the side.

“You can have all of me,” you breathe. “I’m yours.”

Choso feels his heart skip.

“I’m yours.”

The words echo in Choso’s head, over and over until he can think of nothing else but you. Which is not unusual for him, but it feels like now that you’ve confirmed you’re his and his alone, he has this strange urge to also claim all of you.

Choso sits back on his knees, admiring the view as he cards his fingers through his loose hair. Is that all it takes to make you putty like this? Have you absolutely drenched with arousal? A few kisses to your neck and your chest? Your panties were drenched when he pulled them down. And the apex of your thighs, your pretty lips…they’re all soaked with evidence of your desire for him.

It makes Choso think that Suguru must not have been that good to you. Which is a pity because you’re so fucking beautiful when you look so disheveled like this. But that’s okay. He’ll treat you right. He’ll worship you like you deserve to be worshiped.

But he needs to pull himself together first because he’s not much better off than you. Clearly, a few kisses to your neck and your chest are enough to make him putty as well because he’s so turned on by just the sight of you. His dick is screaming to be released. He can’t seem to pull his eyes from your core, and he’s not sure if he wants to. He wants to taste you desperately. Even more so when his eyes drift up to yours and find you already looking down at him, chest rising and falling rapidly with heavy breaths of anticipation.

You want him just as badly as he wants you. And he doesn’t want to keep you waiting for another fucking second.

Choso closes the distance, pressing a soft kiss to your bare pussy and you shiver, the coil forming low in your belly already getting tighter by the second. You blame it on all the teasing looks, and the building tension on the drive over. The coil only grows tighter when Choso fully dips his tongue between your folds and begins lapping at your core. Your head falls back against the door, eyes closed tight as you concentrate on simply trying to keep yourself from crashing to the floor the moment Choso’s tongue immediately finds your clit like it’s muscle memory for him, licking light circles.

“Ah, Choso–” Both your hands hold onto his brown locks.

He opens his mouth, presses his tongue flat against your clit, and places loud, wet kisses to your pussy. You quickly lose yourself to the incredible feeling of his tongue lapping at you. He’s as amazing as he was the last time he was between your legs. Just as skilled, just as attentive, finding any and all spots that make your legs tremble even in the slightest. And he enjoys every reaction you give him. Every cute little sigh, every broken moan of his name…Choso loves when you say his name.

Because it’s his name on your tongue, no one else’s. Because it meant you were only focused on him. His name falling from your lips was honest, gentle, and seductive. And each time you sighed it, moaned it, or whimpered it, it made Choso work harder to bring you closer to your peak.

A guttural groan comes from deep in Choso’s chest as he hooks an arm beneath your thigh and puts your leg over his shoulder and you gasp because now he’s somehow even deeper. His tongue teases at your entrance and you feel yourself clench around nothing, the light taps against your hole prompting it to seek for something to enter. Choso hums, the vibrations running straight through to your clit and you whimper softly.

His tongue is incredible, skilled as it runs flat across your cunt and sends shivers up your spine every time it rubs the bundle of nerves. Your mind is working overtime trying to keep up with your body. Every lick and smack of Choso’s mouth against you has your skin tingling.

Choso is attentive, carefully finding what spots make your breath hitch and staying there until you’re crying out his name. He wants to make a mess of you before the night is over and he’s going to be sure to do it. And by the way your back arches against the door, and your hands pull at his hair, it doesn’t seem like it’s going to take much anyway.

He pushes further into your pussy, seeking better access while his hands hold your ass.

“Fuck, fuck,” You gasp when Choso sucks hard on your clit just before he flicks that tongue of his over it.

“Shit,” Choso groans into your core. “Taste so…” he drags his tongue through your folds. “...fucking sweet, baby.” Choso’s cock is throbbing between his legs. Your fucking scent, your fucking taste. He’s so drunk on you. He never wants to stop devouring you.

You’re panting above him, soft moans rushing past your lips as your legs start to shake around Choso’s head. And while he doesn’t want you to cum yet, he wants to taste your release on his tongue again. Then he wants to feel your body wrapped around him when you cum again while he’s buried deep inside of you.

With his free hand, Choso runs his index finger between your folds, gathering your slick before he stops right above your hole. He teases at your entrance, reveling in the way you tug at his hair impatiently. You so clearly want him to fill you, stretch your walls in any way possible. He’s happy to oblige. He glances up to see you staring down at him again, eyes half-lidded, lips parted as your chest heaves. Your breaths come harshly. You look so beautiful, so ready to be fucked, so ready to be his.

He keeps his gaze on yours as he presses his finger forward, dick pulsing when your walls clench down on his thick finger immediately. God, he wants to feel you around him so badly. Your mouth falls open with a silent moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Choso pushes into you until he’s knuckle deep. He’s grateful he’s been eating you out, the wetness adding to the ease in which he’s able to slip in.

“You’re so fucking tight. So tight, love,” he grits out, being met with a loud moan in response to his new pet name for you. Choso pulls his finger back, slowly pushing it back in and your grip on his hair tightens, making him increase the pace in which he fucks you with his finger. His mouth latches back onto you.

“M-more, baby,” you beg. “I need more.”

“Mmm,” Choso hums into you as he slips a second finger into your dripping cunt.

It’s like music to his ears. The way you cry out his name, the deliciously lewd squelch when you grind yourself against his hand, the slurping sounds from his mouth as he devours you.

You don’t want him to stop, don’t want this to be over, but you’re rapidly approaching your climax. And as much as you’re loving this feeling, you know you don’t have much longer until you reach your peak. Because the way Choso’s tongue runs over your heat, how his fingers somehow find the exact spot that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, how your heart races when you look down and see Choso staring back up at you, eyes full of all his desire for you, it’s enough to send you over the edge.

And it does, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm crashes over you without warning. You feel Choso’s free hand grip your thigh to keep you steady. It’s so intense, you don’t even realize you’ve bent forward, clutching desperately onto Choso’s shoulders. It’s so intense, you can’t even hear the garbled cry of Choso’s name leaving your lips over and over. All you can see is white behind your eyelids as you ride Choso’s fingers and tongue through absolute ecstasy.

When you straighten back up, Choso pulls back from your core, lazily pumping his fingers into you. You’re still squeezing down on him, so tight even as you’re catching your breath. And he wants to give you a moment to breathe, but there’s this primal part of him whose patience is wearing thin.

So he stands, pulling his fingers from inside of you, crashing his lips into yours and swallowing your whimpers. You can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue as he tangles the muscle with yours. The kiss is sloppy, a mix of both your saliva and release.

And it’s intoxicating.

It sets you right back at square one, a messy puddle with arousal dripping between your thighs.

All for Choso.

He places his hands beneath your thighs. Gently, he lifts you, carrying you to his bed where he lays you down on your back. Choso slowly crawls along your body, a hand coming up to brush his knuckles across your cheek. His eyes stare softly into yours, silently asking for your consent. Because he’s ready to take that next step if you are. To solidify what Choso intends to be a full on committed relationship.

And you nod, because you believe him. Because you trust him. With your body, but mostly importantly, with your heart.

“I’m going to take good care of you,” Choso promises, still gazing into your eyes before kissing you tenderly. “I’m never going to give you a reason to doubt me. Never going to break your heart.”

“I know,” you tell him. “I won’t ever break yours again.”

It’s a promise you intend to keep.

You cup your hand to the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his hair and bring him down for another kiss. Choso groans softly into your mouth and you take the opportunity to slip your tongue into his. Your tongues dance together as Choso slips his hand down the hem of your shirt and under, his fingers ghosting back up to your breasts.

A quiet gasp interrupts the kiss as Choso’s long fingers find your nipple, taking the soft bud and rolling it between his thumb and his index finger. He pulls back slightly, watching intently as your expression beneath him changes from tender and adoring to lustful, raw with desire as you arch your back to push your breast further into his touch.

Choso has seen this look on your face less than a handful of times. And each time, the look shoots straight to his dick. He releases you for the briefest of seconds before he’s reaching down to hurriedly lift your shirt over your head. He tosses your top to the floor, doing the same with his own shirt right after.

His eyes rake over you and your breasts, drinking in the way your nipples seem to further harden the longer he stares.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells you, now that he can see you in all your nude glory. Just perfection.

Choso dips down to press a kiss to the valley between your breasts before taking your right nipple in his mouth. With his free hand, he takes hold of your other breast, caressing gently as his tongue rolls over your nipple. He tries not to smirk too hard when your hands find their way into his hair again, which Choso is beginning to find to be his favorite part of making you come undone. He loves the feeling of you trying your damnedest to bring him impossibly closer to you.

Your head lolls back, Choso’s tongue flicking over your hardened bud only serving to intensify the pleasure already building up in your core again. At this point, there’s a nagging worry in the back of your head that you’re absolutely soaking Choso’s sheets with your arousal. But you can’t bring yourself to care when Choso releases your nipple from his mouth with an obnoxiously wet pop.

He adjusts himself between your thighs, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your cheek, along your jaw and back to your lips. You feel him roll his hips forward, his own arousal evident between you. A gasp rushes past your lips when you feel his hard erection pressing insistently against your center, hot, heavy and pulsing. It leaves you breathless.

“You like that?” Choso questions, grinding his hips into yours once again and only receiving your moan in response. “Like feeling how hard you make me?” He dips down to place a kiss beneath your jaw. “Do you?”

Another grind of his hips. And you’re sure you could cum just like this.

“God, yes,” you whine quietly. “I love feeling how hard I make you, baby.”

Choso groans, rolling his hips forward another time, please with your answer. You can feel the smirk on his lips when your grip in his hair tightens as you moan.

“Wanna feel you, Choso,” you whimper. “Please.”

And it’s all Choso needs to hear before he’s lifting his hips, pushing his pants down and kicking them off to the floor in what feels like one swift motion. You spread your legs wider for him, giving him room to fully settle back in. The feeling of his bare cock resting between your slick folds has you both shivering with pleasure.

“This okay?” He asks through gritted teeth. Because of course he does. He never wants you to be uncomfortable.

“It’s so good.”

Choso’s lips find yours and he kisses you hungrily. It feels like hours of you both making out, tongues tangling as you adjust to finally being a step closer to fully having each other.

But when your hands, already buried in Choso’s locks, tug just right, he can’t help the pathetic whine that falls from his lips. Nor can he help the way his hips stutter. And neither of you can help the loud moans that come when Choso’s length slides along your soaking pussy.

“Ah…” You hear Choso exhale shakily above you, jaw taut. You can feel his thighs trembling slightly between your legs, like he’s trying to resist moving.

But you want him to move. So you pull him down to you, crushing your lips to his as you move your hips, grinding his length between you. The ridges of his cock drag deliciously over your clit. You press your hips into Choso’s again and again. You don’t want to stop. And neither does Choso apparently, because he begins to meet every roll of your hips with his own until it’s just the both of you exchanging moans between you as you grind against each other.

“Fuck, babe. So damn wet,” Choso grunts.

“Just for you, Choso. You make me feel so good,” You kiss him sweetly, swallowing his whimper when you praise him.

He keeps fucking himself against you, pulling away from the kiss to hide his face in the crook of your neck.

The heat from your pussy engulfs his cock. And it’s dizzying. He wants to be inside of you, but he can’t seem to pull himself away from just the sensation of your sopping cunt slipping and sliding against him. It feels too amazing. So good, Choso’s afraid he’s not going to last much longer here.

He’s desperate for you, has been desperate for you for some time. And the buildup that he’s had to endure in the span of having his face buried between your thighs, swallowing every drop of your cum and now losing himself to your pussy before even getting to be inside of it has him ready to explode.

It’s almost embarrassing to ask, but he wants to do this with you. If you agree, of course. So before he loses himself, even as the heat rushes to his cheeks and the coil in his groin tightens and threatens to snap, he whimpers out a quiet, “are you on birth control?”

You almost miss it, because your brain is frazzled, overstimulated because you’ve only just recovered from your last release and your next is coming up quickly. But you still hear it.

“Y-yes,” you answer, moaning when you feel Choso’s cock throb between your legs. And he’s thrusting against you just a little faster now, breaths quickening.

“I need to cum in you,” Choso grits between thrusts. “Need to fill you up with me. Need to make you mine.”

Your eyes widen, not because you're offended or surprised at how blunt he's being. Choso has never been anything but honest. You’re more surprised at the immediate flood of arousal that's just seeped between you both, only making more of a mess because of the way he's speaking to you. Your moans only spur Choso on, your core tightening because this new possessiveness Choso has been revealing tonight turns you on to no end.

“Yes. God, please.” You hear his breath hitch against your skin when you moan your response.. “I want your cum, please. Fill me up, Choso.”

“Yeah, baby?” Choso hisses against your skin. “Want me to?”

“Please, please. Gimme your cum, Choso, please. I want it.”

Choso digs his hips into yours roughly, the pressure to your already sensitive nub suddenly pushing you over the edge sooner than you thought. Your cry echoes throughout Choso’s room as your legs wrap around his waist, squeezing shakily as your orgasm rips through you once more.

And Choso is still fucking himself against you, loving the way your pussy is practically screaming for something to fill it. And when the sudden feeling of his own release shoots up his spine in a rush, Choso is happy to do so. You need no time to adjust, Choso dipping a hand between you and guiding his tip to your entrance. He pushes his entire length in, bottoming out easily and groaning hoarsely when your sweet, slick walls wrap around him, convulsing hard. You feel better than he imagined. So hot, so tight, so wet.

Choso rears his hips back, then rolls them forward again, sinking into you, slowly, and your body's reaction is immediate. Goosebumps ignite along your skin. Your heart races and your breath hitches as you savor the incredible feeling of every ridge and vein stroking along your walls, every pulse of his length as you take more of him, stuffing you so full you can hardly breathe. You writhe beneath Choso, moaning when Choso pulls his hips back once more before he’s wasting no time slamming into you frantically as he chases his high.

“Gonna fill this tight little pussy with my cum, baby,” he grunts, balls slapping messily against your ass. “Need to fill this pussy. Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Shit.”

You’ve never seen this side of Choso before. It’s a new feeling to him, too. Choso is certain he’s never felt this way about anyone else before. But he can’t help it. He feels some primal need to suddenly claim you now. Because he has to. Because he can.

He wants to be sure that everyone knows you’re his.

“Tell me you’re mine again,” Choso begs. Because even he’s still having a hard time believing it. He’s got his head between your breasts now, pounding into you desperately. “P– please. Say it, baby. Tell me you’re mine.”

Your back arches, hands leaving Choso’s hair to grip at his sheets when the tip of his cock taps your sweet spot. It almost makes you cum all over again.

“Oh my god,” you gasp as your eyes roll back. “F–fuck!” You can barely form a thought with the way Choso splits you open. “I’m…ah– I’m yours, baby. Only yours.”

It’s exactly what he needs to hear. Every rough drive of Choso’s hips has you crying out for him, has you clenching down on him so hard that it’s impossible for Choso to not be overcome with the sensation of his climax violently washing over him. His mouth falls open, loud groans mixing with your cries as he bottoms out once more, pushing himself as deep as he can go before he’s spilling into you, pumping you so full of his seed that he’s sure it’s dripping onto his sheets. But he can’t be bothered to care. Not when your pussy hugs his cock so tight, milks him for all he’s worth.

Choso kisses between your breasts, up your chest, your neck, all the way up until he reaches your lips. His dick twitches with every spurt of his cum. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop. Even as you both catch your breath, and he’s quietly moaning sweet words to you, he can still feel himself pulsing with the shockwaves of his release.

He kisses a trail down to what he’s now discovered may be his new favorite spot – the crook of your neck – and moans lowly against you, still fucking into you slowly, draining himself of everything he has to offer. “God, your pussy is so perfect. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” Choso breathes.

You laugh weakly, unable to do anything but attempt to catch your breath. Your chest rapidly rises and falls as you come down from your second release. Choso presses one last kiss to your neck as he pulls his finally softening length from you with a hiss. He climbs off of you, laying on your side and pulling you into his arms where he buries his nose in your hair.

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, almost like he’s embarrassed about the way he acted a few moments ago.

You wrap an arm around him, hand finding his back and rubbing light circles. “I’m great.” You gaze up at the man, and he gazes back down at you, a small smirk curling on one side of his lips. You stay like that for a long while, your feelings for each other, and all the words left unspoken finally being seen in each other’s eyes.

It’s Choso who breaks the silence.

“We should shower,” he suggests. He knows there’s a mess to be taken care of before either of you can relax comfortably. “I’ll start it and get this cleaned up.”

You nod, glad you thought to grab a bag before coming over. It’s easy to agree to a shower when you’ve got everything you need right here. You reluctantly pull yourself from Choso’s embrace. You sit up, about to get up to go find where you’d tossed your things when you’d fumbled in together, but you feel Choso’s large hand grab your wrist.

“Hey…” he calls to you.

You turn back to him, brows arched in surprise. “Yes?”

But Choso doesn’t say anything. He just…stares at you. And there’s a tenderness in his eyes that you’re certain you’ve seen before. It’s the same look he had when he met you at the park earlier that night, like he wants to say something, but can’t bring himself to just yet.

Instead, he sits up, presses one last soft peck to your lips. And then he’s out of bed, in the bathroom before you can blink and running a shower for you.

- - - - - -

After your showers, you and Choso lay in each other’s arms in his now clean bed. Choso hasn’t let you go since you’d crawled under the covers. It’s cute, the way he clings onto you like you’ll disappear if he loosens his grip for even a second. But you’re not going anywhere anymore. You’re content here, where you were always meant to be it seems.

“When do you go back to work?” Choso questions suddenly. You can hear the sleepiness in his voice. You know he must be tired. It’s the late hours of the night now, and the next day is slowly creeping in.

“I’ll be off next week and then I’ll go back.”

“So you can spend the week with me, then.” It’s not really a suggestion. Choso says it as if he’s noting that you’ll be with him for the week.

You giggle, and Choso snuggles even closer to you if that were possible. “Oh yeah? What are we going to be doing?”

Choso hums in thought. “I have a competition a few cities away. You could come with me.” You try not to be too surprised by this offer. Because you’ve never received it before. And it’s nice to finally get it. Choso’s hand holds the back of your neck, thumb slowly stroking back and forth along your skin. “I’ll only be there for a couple of days. You can come with me, watch me skate without the looming pressure of getting a good shot. We’ll hang out and come back.” He presses a small kiss to your forehead. “Like a long date sort of thing.”

You think about Yaga’s advice to take the next week off and get your shit together. Breaking things off with Suguru for good was the first step, and you and Choso just spent the entire night taking your relationship to the next level. Now he’s asking you if you want to spend more time taking things further. It’s a no brainer for you.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

- - - - - -

After your night with Choso, you’d spent the week with him as planned. You turned your phone off, resisting the temptation to check on work or see what your friends may be up to. You wanted to be fully focused on Choso and your new relationship. And you were glad you did. It gave you two a chance to truly spend uninterrupted time with only each other.

Choso had won his competition, of course, and despite the little promise you made to leave your camera at home, you couldn’t resist turning your phone back on for a few minutes while he skated. You couldn’t help it. You loved your job, you loved being behind the camera. And there was something just so majestic about the way Choso skated. It would be such a shame to not capture those moments. And surprisingly, you’d managed to get some incredible shots of him on your phone, which you promptly set as your screensaver.

Admittedly, you loved the way Choso’s ears practically glowed bright red when you showed him your screen.

But the week came and went in a rush and now you’re back at work. You thought your return would be awkward, your team having not seen you since the incident at the cover shoot. And yet, everyone was warm and welcoming upon your return. Funnily enough, quite a few of your team members had stopped you in the halls to quietly thank you. For what, you’re not sure, but you guessed it may have something to do with giving them front row seats to watch Naoya Zenin get pummeled.

You made a mental note to pass their thanks along to Choso, who shyly admitted to you one day that he loved the feeling of knocking him on his ass.

It was about three weeks after your return to work that the higher ups switched up your routine. You went from taking on assignments for the skating department of the magazine to researching up and coming athletes for a new department that was being built. This meant you were busier now than ever. It also meant you were traveling more. It started as small trips. You were never gone for more than a day and you’d be back at Choso’s as soon as you were in town again. But the constant travel still meant seeing less of your boyfriend. Thankfully, he was understanding of this. Work came first, but you still felt guilty.

Just when things were starting to become stable between the two of you, work soon became the new third wheel. But you both made it work. When you traveled, it was Choso dropping you off at the airport. And it was Choso picking you up from the airport. You talked so often that you never truly felt like you were away from him.

Until now.

The higher ups set their sights on a new, rising talent and apparently, it had to be you out there getting the winning shot. So they’d sent you out of town. Well, out of the country. Apparently, it's the peak of the season right now and with so many other talents popping up around the world, your higher ups are eager to be the first to capture this particular talent in action.

So here you are, outside of the country, posted up in some fancy hotel room by the beach. It’s pitch black outside, but you can still just barely make out the ripples of the waves on the dark, moonlit water. It’s the reason you’re here, and the reason there’s a rush to get this new department up and running back home. Your higher ups want to start honing in on the surf world the talented athletes, and they are hoping you can be the one to capture the perfect photo for their next cover to introduce the surf segment.

There's a surf competition tomorrow that will be happening midday, but if surfers are anything like skaters, you want to be there in the early hours of the morning. Thanks to the hotel staff, who are local to the area and some even involved in the surf scene here, you had a lead on your target. And if your sources were correct, the person you were hoping to capture in action before the crowd arrived would be there. After much research, you'd discovered the best time to get in the water was right around sunrise, so you planned on trying to beat the crowd.

But for now, you find yourself on your phone on a video call with Choso. Freshly out of the shower, you throw yourself down face first onto your hotel bed. The sheets feel like a warm hug, reminding you of Choso. So soft, so comfortable, and you feel the jetlag begin to seep into your bones. You may even fall asleep like this. Who cares if you're still in your robe?

"Oh my god, this feels like a cloud," you groan into the blankets. Choso's deep chuckle reverberates through the phone and fills the space in your lonely room, fills the space in your once lonely heart and you can't help the goofy grin on your face now.

You miss him.

"Should I be jealous?" Choso jokes, watching as you prop your phone up next to your bed before getting comfortable and snuggling beneath the blankets. "You never cuddle with me like that." He pokes his bottom lip out in a cute pout and your heart leaps. Choso has really started showing his sense of humor. It’s adorable.

You roll your eyes playfully, grinning. "That's hilarious seeing as how you always want to be the little spoon in this relationship. I'm almost never not cuddling you."

To this, Choso shrugs, still laughing when he mutters, "Well, maybe when you get back you can hold me the same way you apparently hold hotel duvets."

"And how is that?"

"Like you lov–" He cuts himself off, lips pursing like he just caught himself about to say something he shouldn’t. But you're not stupid. You know exactly where that was headed. And you’d be lying if you said that word didn’t try to claw its way up your throat on occasion.

But you're not sure if now is the right time. Things are still so new with Choso, so fresh. Because while you've been with each other for awhile now, there's always been one other person lingering. Now that they're gone, it's a fresh start on the story that is just you and Choso. This time around you're not going to fuck it up.

You can't rush to say those words. They need to come when the time is right.

"I miss you so much," Choso breathes quietly on the other side of the phone. He's looking away from the camera and you notice now that he's also propped his phone up next to his bed. He's in a black tank top and pajama pants, sitting up against his headboard. You can just make out that the sun is beginning to peek through his curtains. Suddenly you're reminded of your time difference. While the stars paint the deep blue of the night sky for you, they fade away for Choso as the sun rises.

"I miss you, too, babe."

So bad it hurts.

“When do you come back?”

You sit up in the bed, propping yourself up against the headboard to match Choso’s posture. “In a few days. I’m kind of following this guy through the next few towns to try and get the perfect picture. The sun was already setting when I got to the hotel, so I didn’t have time to check out the beach and find where the best shot would be. I’m hoping he’ll be out there during the sunrise tomorrow.”

Choso nods quietly, eyeing you through the camera. “Watching the sunrise with another man? Romantic.”

You roll your eyes at his little joke. “Jealous?”

He nods immediately. “Of course I am. You’ll be at the beach, watching the sunrise with someone who isn't me, your boyfriend.” He emphasizes the word. You know it’s not coming from a place of true jealousy. He simply loves bringing up the fact that there’s no other man as important as him in your life anymore. Another little sign of possessiveness Choso shows now that you actually really like and find to be very sexy.

If you were with him, you would have crawled into his lap and shown him there was absolutely nothing to be jealous of. Instead, you pout. Because you hate that he’s so close, and still out of your reach. You want to be able to touch him, kiss him, please him.

And then a little lightbulb is going off in your head, an idea forming. You shift around, smirking when your robe loosens and the shoulder droops down, exposing your collarbone and Choso’s favorite little hiding spot. The one place he loves to bury his face in aside from between your thighs.

You watch as his gaze drifts down to your skin and he inhales sharply. One thing about Choso is that on the night you’d made things official and he told you he would never get enough of you, he meant it. Just like he meant everything he’d ever told you. Choso was insatiable, always hungry for you. There was hardly a day when you were in each other’s presence that you didn’t somehow end up tangled in the sheets, hidden away in the bathroom or whatever dark room you could find where you could completely devour each other. All of this time spent apart between both of your travels must have been eating away at him. It was definitely taking its toll on you.

“I really miss you,” Choso repeats. His eyes are still stuck on your bare shoulder, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “Wish I was there with you.”

You hum, gripping the fabric of your robe and sliding it back up to cover your shoulder, grinning when you hear Choso huff. It’s fun to get a rise out of him sometimes. You slide the robe down again, just a little further, a little wider so that more of your chest is exposed. “I wish you were here with me, too, babe.”

You see Choso shift, a hand coming down to palm at his crotch and you can just barely make out the outline of his erection beginning to form beneath the thin fabric of his pajamas. You watch, almost in a trance as he adjusts the bulge in his pants. So unashamed, not even trying to hide the fact that simply seeing your shoulder has him hard. And seeing the effect you have on him makes your own body react, makes your breath hitch your core throb.

“I wanna see you,” Choso states. His eyes settle on the swell of your breasts. You hadn’t even noticed that your robe had begun to slip further.

Your fingers deftly undo the knot that holds your robe together and you let it fall from your shoulders, leaving your nude form fully exposed for Choso. Your boyfriend licks his lips, fist now gripping his fully erect cock through his pants, stroking slowly over the fabric as his eyes rake over you.

You suddenly feel shy, awkward. It’s just you here even though Choso is on the other end of the line. It doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re alone in this room, sitting naked on the phone. You feel a little silly doing this. You reach for your robe again, but freeze when you hear Choso’s voice come from the device, a rough “Don’t” stopping you in your tracks.

Your eyes follow his movements when he reaches to pull his shirt over his head. Then he lifts his hips, hands tugging his pants and boxers down. His cock springs free, already glistening with precum. Now you’re licking your lips, wishing so badly that you were there to take his pretty, tan cock down your throat just the way he likes.

“Baby…” Choso moans as he wraps his hand around his dick.

“What do you want me to do?” You ask, breathily. You can feel your center wet with your arousal as your eyes lock onto Choso’s motions.

“Touch your tits for me.”

You do as you’re told immediately, sliding your hands up to your chest, teasing yourself while Choso watches you. Cupping your breasts, you whimper as you run your fingers over your hardening nipples. You roll the sensitive buds between your fingers, pinching them gently, moaning in response to the grunt you hear from Choso on the other end.

“Feel good, baby?” He asks. Through drooping eyelids, you can see him lean forward slightly in bed just before he spits on the tip of his cock and uses his hand to spread the slick fluid. His head falls back against his headboard as he groans. Then his eyes are back on you through the screen, hot and filled with desire. “Does it?” He asks again.

“Ahh…yes,” you sigh, pinching and rolling your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches against your headboard as you imagine it’s Choso who is touching you, caressing you, squeezing you like this. You want him to be here, pleasuring you like this. The thought alone has more arousal dripping from your cunt and you bite down on your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loudly.

“Fuck– so damn beautiful.” Choso’s hips buck up into his fist, mouth slightly agape while he watches you tease yourself. “Open your legs, baby. Let me see you play with that pretty pussy.”

“I wish I could touch you,” You whine as you spread your legs for him. “I wish you could touch me.” Choso’s stare follows your hand as it slides between your thighs. He bites his lip, gaze stuck on the way your fingers spread your glistening folds and find your clit, gently rubbing the little nub and he tightens his grip as he pumps his hand up and down his length. Your eyes flutter closed as you pleasure yourself.

“Doing s-so good, baby,” Choso praises you through gritted teeth, stroking himself slowly. “So pretty. So…ah…so perfect like this.” He brings his free hand down to his balls, gripping the two orbs in his palm and gently squeezing. “Watch me.”

And you do, knowing that there’s just something so fucking arousing about what you’re doing right now that you don’t stand a chance of lasting much longer. You watch as Choso spits messily on his cock again. You watch as he strokes himself faster. You watch as his face scrunches with pleasure and how that tattooed line across his face crinkles every time he squeezes his eyes shut to focus on staving off his release when he gets too close.

“So hot,” you tell him. “I want your cock so bad, baby.”

“It’s yours,” Choso groans, hands tugging at his balls. “Fuuuck, it’s yours any fucking time you want it.”

Your pussy is soaked, begging for Choso to fill it. You moan as you play with yourself, your other hand coming down to rub light circles around your entrance. And you can feel how tight of a fit it will be even with your own fingers because you so desperately clench with need for Choso.

On the other end of the line, you see the thin line of precum dripping from Choso’s tip and onto his hard abdomen. Every thick vein running along his cock has your mouth watering. God, he’s gorgeous, losing himself to you by just watching you lose yourself to him. The image is so sexy, you want to burn it into your mind so you never forget it.

“Use your fingers,” Choso pants, moans and whimpers falling freely from his lips now. You love it when he becomes a whiny mess like this.

Hurriedly, you bring two fingers to your lips and slip them into your mouth. You suck your fingers, getting them nice and wet. Then you bring them back down to your entrance, the earlier wetness helping when you push your fingers in. You clench around the digits immediately and your eyes close for just a moment.

“Watch me.”

You remember Choso’s earlier request and you open your eyes to find Choso staring back at you. Jaw clenched, nostrils flared. His chest rises and falls with every harsh breath as he fucks himself into his fist. And now you’re a writhing mess, knuckles deep in your own cunt, trying to hide the way your thighs are twitching and how your head is spinning with each movement through your walls.

“Can’t wait to see you,” you tell Choso who can only reply with a low groan.

You’re so close to your end. You feel your thighs trembling with every pump of your fingers, with every tight circle rubbed along your clit. Your fingers just feel too good. Especially when Choso is encouraging you on the other end of the phone, and getting off to you at the same time..

Choso doesn’t seem to be much better off. He’s got his head back against his headboard, hips moving frantically while he drinks in the way you moan for him.

“God, I’m gonna fuck that pretty pussy of yours so good when you come back home to me.”

It’s a promise from him. Because Choso never says anything to you that he doesn’t mean.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask, curling your fingers in your walls to find the spot that takes you over the edge. A quiet gasp rushing past your lips when you reach it, legs quivering at the incredible sensation.

“Fuck yeah.” Choso’s breathing turns ragged, hips slamming into his fist. “Gonna fuck your –” He pumps himself faster, squeezes his balls harder, brows knitting together as his hips come up. “shit…gonna…ah– fucking…shit–” He doesn’t get to finish his thought, hands gripping his balls as they tighten, and he paints his abdomen with thick ropes of cum. The moan that leaves Choso is low, guttural, arousing.

And as you watch Choso’s cum leave his tip and land on his bare skin with a loud slap, you’re sent to your own peak, walls clamping down on your fingers and convulsing as your orgasm takes over. Your eyes roll back, spine arching away from the headboard and it takes everything to not close your legs and stop. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the intensity of your release making you cry out for your boyfriend.

He’s watching you as you cum, slowly stroking his softening cock while he tries to catch his breath. And he’s never looked more beautiful. Cheeks dusted a rosy pink, chest flushed with a sheen of sweat, loose hair sticking to his forehead.

He’s perfect.

He’s yours.

- - - - - -

In the morning, the chilly ocean breeze greets you. The earliest rays of sunlight are just beginning to peek above the horizon. The waters are fairly calm right now. Not at all what you were expecting. And it makes you a little uneasy. It almost feels like something is waiting just around the corner for you. You’re not sure if you should be worried.

But you don’t have time to give to this feeling.. Not when your eyes land on your target, right where you’d been told he would be. He fits the description you were given to a tee – tall, deep tan skin with what appeared to be purple hair braided back into cornrows. He doesn’t have the look of a typical surfer.

No wetsuit, but instead baggy shorts and a baggy t-shirt, which you weren’t sure would hold up well in the water. Perhaps he only wore it when practicing. But what would you know? Your speciality is skateboarding.

He hasn’t seen you yet. His eyes are glued to the small waves of the water while his board lies discarded next to him. You’re thankful he hasn’t seen you. You’d hate to get an earful this early in the morning if he sees you skulking around. From what you’ve heard, the man is a bit elusive and not a huge fan of getting his picture taken. Which only made him all the more appealing for your company. They were desperate to get this guy featured on the cover.

You take a few steps towards the stranger before you feel your phone buzzing incessantly in your pocket. You couldn’t be more grateful that the gentle roar of the water covers the sound. Quickly, you fish your phone out and check your messages. The most important one lies at the top.

Yaga: Check your email for the next assignment ASAP. Big event for your department, so I’m trusting you with this one.

Yaga: Don’t make me regret it.

Your thumb swipes through your apps until you find your email. You open the body of the email to find the details Yaga was telling you to review. The competition header is the first thing you lay eyes on:

TOKYO SKATE LEAGUE COMPETITION OF THE SEASON

Okay, so it’s for a skate competition taking place in a couple of weeks. You don’t pay it much mind. It’s the list of competitors that catch your eye.

Choso Kamo

Momo Nishimiya

Naoya Zenin

Suguru Geto

Noritoshi Kamo

Junpei Yoshino

There are other competitors on the list, but you’re not familiar with them.

Competition summary: Individual skaters will go head to head in a tournament style competition with scores being graded by judges. The last one standing will receive a five year contract with the sports magazine of their choosing.

You wonder if Choso has seen this list. You’re sure he has. He’s a part of it, so he would have had to sign up to enter. But, your stomach twists. It feels like the photoshoot all over again. No wonder Yaga gave you that warning in his text. No wonder something felt off today. No wonder the sea was so calm this morning. The storm had yet to come.

You inhale deeply, making a mental note to call Choso later about this.

Then you see movement from the corner of your eye, your target moving to pick up his board and leave towards the other end of the beach. So much for your plan of quietly sneaking up and talking with him. You rush forward, shoving your phone back into your pocket as you call after him.

“Excuse me! Mr. Hakari!”

And in your hurry to catch the man, you miss the new text message coming in.

Unknown Number: Looks like I’ll be seeing you and your boyfriend soon. Looking forward to wiping the floor with pigtails

340 notes · View notes

giveafike · 2 months ago

Note

omg ty that was sooo cute n well written 🥲 what about they’ve been dating for a little while n she’s got a great game but she gets stuck on her serve sometimes, so ben teaches her his technique and then she wins her next match - then i’ll leave u alone promise 😂

TLDR: Part 2 from Game, Set, Match (here if you haven't read the first part) Tennisplayer!fem reader x Ben Shelton LAUNCHING each other, triple date, overcoming insecurity and learning with each other <33.

EDIT: part 3 here!

Word count + info: 7.1k! SUPERRRR LONG!!! Dialogue, instagram comments etc.

Character Inspo: Once again, for tennisplayer!fem reader, I envisioned a bit of a bratty, sassy, cheeky, funny girl. In this, she gets vulnerable tho. Visually, I gravitated towards a mix of Tashi Duncan and Tyla. No specifications are mentioned (except a general "shorter" height than Ben).

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW (suggestive themes - nothing explicit/ NSFW) - no warnings

Azzie Notes ✚: heheheehee I'll blush! ask as many times you want! trust me there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing than writing my little fake scenarios and daydreaming <3 In saying that, I’m begging for my desi women to request a desi imagine 😞 Please, please give me some inspo so I can get into my element.

The support and attention pt. 1 got was genuinely so heartwarming, seeing the couple of reblogs and tags and comments meant sm to me, massive thank you for your support <333 kisses to all of u!!

————————————————————————

Game, Set, Match (Part 2) - B.T.S

Time with Ben flew by in a blur of stolen moments after your first date, before you knew it, it had been close to a year since you first started dating. Between matches and games, you both rearranged photoshoots and postponed interviews just for the chance to spend even a few hours together, sneaking in time wherever possible. Naturally, speculation followed. Paparazzi snapped glimpses of you at gas stations, and fans posted short, blurry videos on TikTok and Twitter of your late-night drives. One clip even sparked rumours of lipstick stains on Ben’s face while driving, barely visible in the shadows. What they missed were the hickeys trailing down his neck, hidden beneath his crumpled t-shirt, evidence of the stolen moments just before. You both laughed at the videos and sometimes interacted, keeping everyone on the outside guessing.

Truthfully, you wanted to savour this feeling for yourself a little longer before it became the latest headline. You had travelled the world, met some of your heroes, performed in front of thousands but nothing felt as exhilarating as this.

You felt young, carefree, and most importantly, yourself. With Ben, there were no PR restrictions, no expectations, just the thrill of being together. Running through hotel halls at midnight, sneaking off for food at ungodly hours like two big backs, lying down in closed parks whispering sweet nothings under the stars; it all felt so raw, so pure. You were smitten with puppy love for each other. You’d take long, aimless drives, rapping and singing bar for bar, holding hands while the world outside blurred by. With Ben, life felt like one endless adventure. You had broken the news to your close circles of friends and family, but not anyone outside. The hardest part though was resisting PDA at public games and events. You almost slipped up during an interview, calling him your 'boyfriend' before catching yourself, covering with 'boy-best-friend' and a sweet smile. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but not quite the truth either. You knew sooner or later, you’d have to make it official and that idea was both exciting and terrifying.

After some plotting, you decided on a soft launch first, acclimatising your audience to it. You and your team were pros at staying active online, and it fit perfectly with your social media presence. For TikTok and Instagram Reels, you posted a 'Day in the Life' vlog - clips of your skincare routine, a fit-check featuring a white, sleeveless high-neck tennis dress with forest green accents that cinched your waist, and a casual lunch. But for those paying close attention, there were clues, Ben’s cologne on the bathroom counter, his duffel bag in the background, his laugh echoing faintly in the background during lunch. Of course, some people picked it up after some time.

Ben couldn’t resist teasing either, replying under a clip of your lunch, 'Who’s taking you on a lunch date?'

You shot back, 'A big-backed loser who ate his own food and then stole from my plate .'

One fan commented, 'Wait, is that Ben’s gym bag in the shot?!?!' to which you cheekily replied, 'Where? that ugly, uninspired black bag?' Ben couldn’t resist adding: "That bag has seen more wins than your TikTok views."

Another comment pointed out the Polo 67 cologne in the background: 'That’s definitely not your scent, Y/N. Whose cologne is that?' You replied, 'Some desperate fanboy left it here. Sweet guy tho ig."

The playful back-and-forth only fueled more speculation, with fans buzzing, 'Wait, is this a soft launch!!', 'I'm tellin' yall, it's Ben', "Am I reaching or is Y/N pulling smth here? collab?"

You both laughed, curled up in bed, scrolling through the comments like a pair of idiots. Two weeks later, it was time for the hard launch.

Ben stifled a laugh as he leaned back on the bed, the duvet lazily draped across his hips. "Y/N, stop overthinking it," he teased, leaning over to plant a kiss on your forehead. Meanwhile, you sat cross-legged, agonising over which photos to post, what caption to use, and whether or not the launch would feel and look perfect; not nonchalant but not too much either. He made it look easy, Ben had his post prepped and ready to go like the sappy man he was, while you were knee-deep in hundreds of photos, searching for the right one to tell your story.

You scrolled through the shots, a smile tugging at your lips as you relive the memories, silly videos, 0.5x candids, live photos of him in goofy poses. Then, one image stopped you. A simple photobooth strip from a date you’d gone on together: four black-and-white shots, each capturing a different moment. The first one had you both flipping the camera off with cheeky smiles, his arm over your shoulder. The next, Ben was kissing your cheek, while in the third, you kissed his, making him grin wide with his gummy smile, his eyes crinkling in joy. The last photo was pure gold. You kissed each other, his hands cupping your face gently, tucking your hair back as he held your jaw while your fingers curled around his shoulders as if you didn’t want to let go. Both of you smiled into the kiss, eyes closed, fully in the moment. It was perfect, effortless.

You sighed, knowing this was the photo. It said everything, no need for several pictures to make a statement. You thought for a moment before you typed out a simple caption that summed it up: "Turns out I'm not the only one with game, @benshelton"

Ben, sitting opposite you, smirked and was the first to comment followed by a few others.

benshelton: "I love you so very much"

yourfriendusername: " 'bout time y'all launched"

ayan.broomfield: "Oh you ate with the caption. Me and Frances are screaming rn"

"Nice caption, loser" he chuckled as he beckoned you over to him. You crawled over to Ben with a shy smile, curling up on his chest as his post was uploading.

Ben’s post was a blend of personal, fun, and a little bit cheeky, a video recorded by his sister, Emma of you two playing tug-of-war with his dog Halo at his house, giggling uncontrollably as the dog barked, tail wagging furiously. A candid photo of you leaning over into his side of the car, his smile half-hidden as he laughed from the driver seat, one hand on the wheel. Then a shot of you both in matching hoodies, his idea, of course, followed by a serene moment of you standing on a seaside cliff, both gazing out at the ocean during a quiet getaway. Lastly, a photo of you two kissing on a picnic blanket, your hand on his face, and his smile beaming into your kiss.

You looked up at him and kissed his cheek as the likes and comments came flooding in.

His caption read “Her biggest fan, my biggest distraction”.

taylorfritz: "So nice of Y/N to take pics with her fans. So humble"

↳ Y/N.Y/LN: "Always a pleasure, this one was a little weird tho"

↳ benshelton: "shut up"

francestiafoe: "Finally upgraded from being the 5th wheel to being in the driver’s seat."

↳ benshelton: "Been driving this whole time, you just didn’t notice"

_emmashelton: "Wow, Ben finally found someone to put up with his snoring???"

↳Y/N.Y/LN: "The snoring I can handle, but the random sleeptalking tennis commentary at 3 AM?"

↳benshelton: "💀 I’m deleting this post."

morganriddle: "No more babysitting you with Taylor now!"

atptour: "Ben’s doing better off the court than on lately 👀"

↳benshelton: "No distractions, just love. But thanks for the shade, ATP"

↳Y/N.Y/LN: "His best ATP title to date: my boyfriend <3"

As you typed your last reply, Ben set his phone aside and gently wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer until your body was flush against his. He kissed the top of your head before his lips began to trail softly down your temple. You tossed your phone to the other side of the bed, locking eyes with him. His curls were messier now, and the glint in his eyes told you exactly what he was thinking.

"Y’know..." Ben murmured, his voice dipping lower as he traced his fingers along the curve of your jaw, then down your neck, sending a shiver through you. His other hand slipped under your t-shirt, resting on your bare waist, his thumb making lazy circles on your skin. "We don’t have anything planned until later… and you look so damn good right now."

His lips grazed your neck, slow and deliberate, before pressing soft kisses there. You tilted your head to the side and swept your hair back, letting him have his way as your fingers tangled in his curls, a small gasp escaped your lips as he nipped lightly at your skin.

"Shouldn’t we… celebrate?" you whispered, your breath hitching as he found the spot that made you melt, his hands guiding your body closer to his. "I mean, we did make some big news."

Ben didn’t reply with words. Instead, he hummed softly against your neck before gently flipping you beneath him. His lips captured yours in a heated, intoxicating kiss, his hand sliding up your shirt, fingertips grazing your soft skin. Your bodies pressed together, the heat building as you giggled into the kiss, knowing exactly where this was headed.

The rest of the day went in a haze of cuddles, stolen kisses, and binge-watching your favourite shows and movies. By evening, it was time to get ready for your triple date with Taylor Fritz and Morgan Riddle, and Frances Tiafoe with Ayan Broomfield. While the guys had bonded at ATP events, you were still the "newbie" among the girls, though Ayan and Morgan had taken you under their wing almost immediately, forming a tight trio.

You slipped into something special for the evening, a stunning black satin dress that hugged your curves perfectly. The backless design draped elegantly, the slit at the thigh adding just the right amount of allure, and the low cut bringing even more drama to the fabric. The soft fabric shimmered slightly under the light which you paired with black stiletto heels and a slickback ponytail.

Ben couldn’t stop staring when you stepped out of the bathroom. He’d matched your elegance effortlessly, wearing a button-up, the top two buttons undone to reveal silver chains around his neck, and his silver Rolex twinkling in the light.

"Wow," he said softly, taking in the sight of you. His gaze lingered on the curve of your back, the way the dress dipped and shimmered. "You’re killing me, babe."

You smirked, stepping up to him and straightening his collar as you teased, "And you’re not looking too bad yourself"

Ben leaned down, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder, his lips warm against your skin. "I’d say we’re a pretty damn good match."

Arriving just a bit fashionably late (thanks to Ben’s lingering hands and his desperation) you entered the rooftop bar together. He had one hand securely around your waist, guiding you smoothly through the entrance, his hand holding yours as you walked up the stairs in your heels. The city lights twinkled around you, setting the perfect mood for the evening.

When you made it to the table, everyone was already waiting, Ayan and Morgan squealed in excitement the moment they saw you, rushing to hug you.

"You look amazing!" Ayan said, practically bouncing on her heels as she pulled you into a tight embrace.

Morgan stepped back to admire your outfit with a knowing smile. "How's Ben behaving?"

"Trust me, he's already a challenge," you replied feigning annoyance, earning a playful giggle from the two of them before they caught you up on recent gossip.

The boys, of course, couldn’t resist teasing Ben the moment he arrived. Taylor clapped him on the back while Frances laughed, giving him a knowing look.

"So... you finally made it official," Taylor teased, drawing out the word with a grin.

Frances grinned. "Big Ben’s had this all under control, right? Didn't need a little push from us? At all?" He threw a playful punch at Ben’s arm.

"Yeah, yeah," Ben said with an eye roll, but his smile betrayed him. "Now you guys can all stop making fun of me!"

Settling into your seats with Ben beside you, the night was filled with laughter and conversation, the six of you effortlessly clicking as a group. You could feel the warmth from Ayan and Morgan, who made you feel like you’d been part of their circle for ages. The easy, fun, teasing banter between everyone only made the night more fun, and as you sipped on cocktails and shared tapas, you couldn’t help but glance over at Ben every now and then, feeling the pull between you two all over again.

The table was lively as usual, laughter spilling over from one side to the next. Frances and Taylor had already made it a mission to tease Ben relentlessly.

“You know, I’m glad you’ve finally got a date,” Taylor said with a smirk, swirling his wine. “For a while, we were worried you were just gonna hang around like a lost puppy.”

Frances chimed in, throwing a playful arm around Ayan. “Yeah, man, it’s about time you stopped being the spare wheel. Now you’re in.”

Ben rolled his eyes but squeezed your hand. “You guys act like I was suffering. I’m pretty sure Y/N was worth the wait.”

Morgan chimed in. “Oh, don't worry Ben, we tease because we care. But seriously, you were giving big lone wolf, single energy for a while. It’s nice to see you two together. You’re like, the new ultimate power couple.”

Ayan nodded, glancing between you and Ben with a smile. “Seriously, though. We all knew it was only a matter of time. And I gotta say, Y/N, you bring out a whole new side of him.”

You laughed, raising a brow as you turned to Ben. “A new side? Should I be worried?”

Ben grinned, shaking his head. “Nothing you can’t handle, I promise.”

As the night continued, the conversation drifted between shared stories of travel, upcoming tournaments, and off-court gossip. Dinner had been fun, the usual banter between your friends, but that one offhanded comment had sucked the air right out of the room for you.

“So, Y/N,” Frances grinned, swirling his whiskey glass, “you ready for the Open? It’s gonna be tough seeing Navarro again after she got the best of you last time, huh?”

Your eyes went wide for a moment before you laughed it off, taking a small sip of your drink and brushing it aside as if it hadn’t landed as a smack with the weight of a brick. "It was just one match," you said, trying to sound nonchalant. But the words felt hollow in your mouth.

But inside, everything collapsed.

Navarro hadn’t just beaten you. She’d dismantled you. Something over the past few months felt like a mental block, like you were slowing down but this match? It didn't just slow you down, it blew you out of the water completely. Her aggressive baseline play came with heat, her ability to push you wide on every shot, forcing you to scramble and defend, and it all came rushing back. You could rewind the entire match all over again in your head, watching points fly from you. You had no answer to her consistency, her precision. And her serve, you could still feel the frustration of trying to return them, each one faster and sharper than the last. Your own serve had crumbled under the pressure, double fault after double fault.

What was worse was you remembered how the crowd had watched you, narrow-eyed, the press merciless afterwards, dissecting every moment of your failure. You’d walked onto the court that day full of confidence, only to be torn apart and exposed, your weaknesses on full display.

That match haunted you, but you hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell on it or process it. Instead, you buried it beneath a whirlwind of distractions; endless empty hours of practice, late nights out at clubs, and drinks flowing as you tried to drown the doubt. Social media posts curated to show your best self, brand deals, and sponsorships filling your time so you wouldn't have to confront the anxiety gnawing at the edges. You hid behind the glamour, the glitz, pretending the loss hadn’t rattled you completely to your core. But sitting here at the dinner table, with your friends blissfully unaware of the storm inside you, the weight of that memory clawed its way back up and sat in your throat heavy. Every buried doubt, every insecurity, came crashing down, no longer masked by the carefully crafted image.

You smiled through it all and nodded along with the conversation, but your mind was lost, rehashing every single moment.

The taxi ride back was quiet. Ben, ever observant, didn't take long to notice the shift in your mood. He reached for your hand, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of it. "Hey, you alright?" he asked softly, his voice gentle, concern etched on his face.

You gave him a half-hearted smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. "Yeah, I’m fine," you replied, but the quiver in your voice betrayed you. You bit the inside of your cheek as you turned away, facing the low hum of the city through the window.

Ben wasn’t buying it. He squeezed your hand a little tighter, his voice steady and tender, with a small smile. "Come on, baby. Talk to me. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

You hesitated, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. But Ben’s gaze never wavered, his eyes searching yours, not for the athlete, not for the public persona, but for you.

And just like that, the dam broke out from your lips.

“Ben... I—” You swallowed hard, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you’d been carrying. “That silly, stupid comment Taylor made about my last game, it just... It hit me harder than I thought-"

"Do you want me to get an apology?” he asked, his thumb brushing your chin, his expression caught between worry and protective anger.

You shook your head and sighed, shutting your eyes. "N-no, Ben. It's true, you know? I don’t feel like myself anymore. Tennis has always been who I am. And after that match against Navarro, well even a bit before that, everything just... fell apart. I don't even know who I am off the court.”

Ben turned toward you, his full attention on you now, his hands never leaving yours. He didn’t say anything, didn’t interrupt, he just let you speak, let the words spill out.

“I’ve always been so sure, so confident," you continued, your voice trembling. "I’d walk onto the court knowing I could beat anyone, or at least put up a good fight. I used to own that space. But then when it came to Navarro... she broke me. That match wasn’t just a loss. It was...embarrassing, humiliating. Every serve, every swing, it all felt wrong like my own body was betraying me. I could feel everyone watching me crumble.”

Your hands trembled as you spoke, your throat tightening, but Ben’s thumb never stopped its soothing circles on your knuckles. He was quiet, and patient, like he understood this moment wasn’t about fixing anything, it was about you finally letting it out, letting you be vulnerable and freeing your mind to him.

“I used to brush off bad days, but now... now I’m terrified. Every time I pick up my racket, I think about that match, how she exposed me, how I couldn’t handle it. I’m supposed to face her again, and I... I don’t know if I can do it.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you tilted your head back, trying not to lose it completely. "If I lose tennis, Ben... I think I'll lose myself. It’s not just a game for me. It’s everything. Without it, I don’t know who I am.” Your voice cracks into a soft whisper as your lip trembles.

Ben leaned in, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, and your nose, grounding you in the moment. His hand slipped around your waist, pulling you closer until your head rested against his chest.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “I love you, so, so, so much. And not because of what you’ve accomplished, or your ranking, not because of tennis, or your titles, not because of your brands or sponsors. I love you. The person who’s real and flawed and strong as hell, even when you don’t feel it. The girl that keeps me on my feet, leaves me wanting for more and makes me feel like I have the whole world in my hands. Because you are my whole world, you've become that for me. I’m grateful that you’re open and raw with me, but seeing you so hurt and scared breaks my heart. I just want to hold you and make everything right again. You don’t have to face this alone, baby. You have me, I’m here for you, always. No matter what”

He gently cupped your face, turning you toward him so your eyes met. “You are more than a match. So, so much more. Navarro didn’t break you. She might’ve shaken your confidence, but that’s all. You’ve built your entire life on your talent, skill and hard work, and one bad match doesn’t erase that. You’ve been through rough times before, and you always come out stronger, baby”

You shook your head slightly, doubt still tugging at you, your eyes wide and watery, as you pouted softly. “What if I’m not good enough anymore?”

Ben smiled softly, brushing away a tear from your cheek. “You are more than good enough. I see the way you light up when you talk about the game, but I also see you. The Y/N who wakes me up with kisses, who dances around the kitchen, the Y/N who’s so smart and who cares so much about the people around her. Tennis is a part of you, but it doesn’t define you. You define you. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, his presence comforting in a way nothing else had been. The tension in your chest loosened ever so slightly as you exhaled a shaky breath, resting your head against his shoulder, and squeezing your eyes shut.

“And listen,” he continued, his voice soft but sure, “when you step back on that court, it’s not just about proving anything to Navarro or to anyone else. It’s about showing yourself what you’re capable of. You’ve always been a fighter, Y/N. And I know, no matter what happens, you’ll come through and rise up.”

In the quiet of the taxi, you felt the weight on your chest begin to lift, if only a little. You curled into Ben, his hand still tracing comforting patterns along your back. For the first time in a long while, you felt seen, not as the athlete, not as the image the world expected, but as you.

By the time you got back to the hotel, exhaustion and emotion hit hard. You kicked off your heels at the door, plopping onto the sofa as the weight of everything finally crashed down on you. You let your hair down from its ponytail, feeling it cascade over your shoulders as you sighed and placed your head in your hands. The tears came without warning, silent, but heavy. They rolled down your cheeks as you sat there, your shoulders slumped, the muffled rush of your own breathing the only sound as you tried to hold it together.

Ben sat beside you, his arms wrapping around you like a lifeline. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fix it, he just held you close, his presence a quiet comfort in the storm of emotions. After a few moments, he pressed a kiss to your temple, the warmth of it grounding you just enough.

“You don’t have to carry all of this on your own,” he murmured softly. “I know it’s hard, but you don’t have to face it yourself.”

You swallowed hard, another wave of emotion swelling in your chest. His words felt like a release valve, a safe place to let go. “I just... I don’t know how to shake this,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “It’s like I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to come up for air.”

Ben pulled you onto his lap with his arms still holding you, his thumb brushing gentle strokes along your skin. “I’ve seen you do incredible things, Y/N. You’re not lost, you’re just stuck. And tomorrow, we’ll get back on the court. Together. I’ll help you, okay? We’ll figure this out, step by step.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of frustration or obligation. But all you saw was softness, sincerity, his deep, brown eyes full of unwavering care for you. A shaky breath left you as the idea of getting back on the court with him settled in. “You sure?” you asked, the vulnerability in your voice raw. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Oh please, you’re never a burden,” he said, his lips brushing against your hair as he kissed the top of your head a few times. “We’ll work on your serve, your shots. Whatever you need.”

You nestled into Ben's chest, your body still trembling slightly from the release of emotions, but now, with him holding you, the weight seemed just a little lighter. You sighed, his warmth surrounding you like a cloud, which made you plant a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek as you studied his face. Ben chuckled, a low, comforting sound that vibrated through you as he hugged you even tighter.

“You keep looking at me like that with those big puppy eyes, and I’m gonna think you’re trying to butter me up,” he teased, mischief dancing in his eyes as he looked down at you.

You shook your head gently, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “Maybe I am,” you murmured. “Is it working?”

He grinned, tilting his head as if pretending to consider it. “Hmm, maybe,” he said, leaning down to pepper your face with kisses, your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, until you burst out laughing, squirming in his lap.

“Ben!” you giggled, trying to push his face away, but he just held you tighter, his laughter mingling with yours as he planted one last, exaggeratedly loud kiss on your cheek.

“There we go. That’s the smile I was waiting for,” he said softly, brushing away the remnants of your tears with his thumb. Then he added with a teasing grin, “God, you’re a pretty crier, you know that? Am I this whipped, or is your crying actually so beautiful to me?”

You laughed, feeling a blush creep to your cheeks despite the lingering sadness. “Really? You can’t give me a break from my beauty even when I’m a mess?”

His expression softened, and his voice dropped to a tender whisper. “You’re my beautiful mess, baby. You're stronger than you think. Tomorrow’s just another step, and I’ll be right there with you through all of it Y/N. But tonight... let’s take it easy, okay?”

You nodded, the vulnerability in your chest easing as you nuzzled into him, letting his reassurance sink in. “Okay. But only if you promise to keep the kisses coming. I don’t actually mind them that much.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips. “Oh, trust me, I have plenty more where those came from.”

You laughed again, feeling lighter as the weight of the day was lifted and shared. With a final few kisses, he shifted, pulling you closer into a cocoon of warmth, your head resting on his chest as his fingers gently played with your hair.

“Let’s order room service—some sweet little treat or whatever you call it. I know you’ve got a weakness for ice cream.”

You tucked your face into his neck, hiding a smile. “Alright, but only if you promise to share.”

“Deal,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll have some ice cream, watch the fuckin' dumbest movie we can find, and tomorrow, we’ll tackle the court together.”

You nestled deeper, his warmth surrounding you as the heaviness of the day slowly faded. He stroked your hair gently, his thumb tracing calming circles on your back.

“How do you always know exactly what to say and do?” you mumbled against him, your voice soft, exhaustion still lingering at the edges.

Ben chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “It’s a talent,” he teased. “But you’re easy to read. I’ve got my boyfriend role down to a T. Ice cream and kisses are my foolproof pick-me-up.”

You lifted your head to look at him, a smile on your tear-stained face, finding him unbelievably sweet. There was something timeless about his words as if twenty years down the line, he would still have you like this. You held his face and kissed him deeply, feeling his giggle in the kiss. Overwhelmed by his love, you wanted him to feel it too.

The two of you shared ice cream and silly banter, the tension of the day slowly dissolving into warmth, laughter, and love. As the night deepened and the movie ended, the ice cream tub empty, you drifted off into the most peaceful sleep you had in a long time, safe in the knowledge that whatever tomorrow brought, Ben would be right there beside you, helping you every step of the way.

The next morning, Ben stayed true to his word. You hit the courts just as the first light of dawn brushed the horizon, the air crisp and cool. Though you were still shaking off sleep, Ben seemed full of peppy energy, tossing you your racket with a grin. “Alright, superstar, let’s see what you’ve got!”

You lined up, feeling the familiar weight of the racket in your hand, but the first serve fell flat, hitting the net. You frowned.

The next few tries weren’t much better, either flying out of bounds or clipping the net. Frustration bubbled up, and you let out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t get it right.”

Ben walked over with a few more balls, calm as ever. “You’re tense,” he said softly, his hands finding your waist again. “You’ve been in your head too long, baby. You need to feel the court, not force it. Breathe, take it easy and try again.”

You rolled your shoulders, trying to loosen up, but your mind was still spinning. “It’s just not coming back,” you muttered, frustrated.

Ben didn’t respond right away, just came up behind you, his presence a steady comfort. “Let me help,” he said, his voice soft. His hands guided yours on the racket, adjusting your grip before sliding down to your hips. “It’s not all in the swing. It’s in how you use your whole body, how you shift and follow through. Let the court come to you.”

His hands lingered, his chest pressed against your back, steady and sure, as he tilted your hips slightly, helping you find your balance again.

“You know this court, star,” he whispered, his breath warm against your neck. “It’s yours. Remember how it feels under your feet.”

You nodded slowly, closing your eyes for a second, trying to push the frustration away. Ben’s voice, his touch, helped as both a guide and a distraction. When you opened your eyes again, you focused as tension had begun to ease. You served, this time letting the movement flow through you. The ball cut through the air cleanly, landing near the baseline. There was no power struggle, no overthinking, just instinct.

“That’s it, baby” Ben murmured smiling, watching you. “Feel that? You’re not forcing it. You’re moving with the court.”

You started again, focusing less on hitting a hard serve and more on control, allowing the court to guide you. Each serve felt more natural and precise. Ben stood right beside you, offering gentle corrections, praise, and soft, reassuring touches. His hand rested on your lower back, his fingers brushing against your arm, sending tingles through you. You’d be lying if you said coach Ben wasn’t just a little sexy in his element, the way he moved with confidence and authority, every glance filled with admiration and encouragement. He noticed the blush creeping up your cheeks, and a knowing smirk spread across his face, making your heart race even more.

As the session went on, you felt yourself loosening up bit by bit, your body remembering what it was capable of. The court started to feel familiar again, like an extension of yourself. The frustration melted away as you explored each corner, reclaiming your space, and rediscovering the rhythm of your game.

“You’re getting it back,” Ben said softly, stepping closer to brush a light kiss on your temple, his eyes filled with pride. “Little by little, you’re taking control. Good job, star.”

With each swing, you felt more confident. The serves landed deeper and accurately, and you were no longer second-guessing and stalling yourself. It was like the mental block that had blocked your game was lifting. You were in control, not just of the ball, but of the court and of yourself. The sensation was exhilarating, like finding something deeply familiar yet long forgotten.

Ben grinned, watching you get into the groove of it. “That’s my girl,” he nodded, walking over to plant another soft kiss on your forehead. His touch was gentle, his presence grounding. “See? You’ve had it in you all along, babe”

You smiled back, feeling the warmth of his encouragement seep into your skin. The court was yours again, bit by bit. Each serve became more fluid, more instinctive until you weren’t thinking at all, just playing.

By the time you finished, your muscles were tired, but your spirit was light. You collapsed onto the court bench, breathless but smiling wide. Ben sat next to you, tossing a towel over your head with a playful chuckle. “Not bad, star,” he teased, his arm slipping around your shoulders, pulling you close.

You pulled the towel off, laughing softly, leaning into him. “Not bad? I’m just getting started.”

Ben chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead, his voice low and full of pride. “You’re ready, babe. Navarro won’t know what hit her.”

You tilted your head up toward him, your heart swelling with the warmth of his support, his belief in you. “Thanks, Ben,” you whispered, feeling lighter than you had in weeks.

He smiled down at you, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Don't thank me, you're my star. You always had it in you, you just needed to be woken up. You’ve got this.”

As you settled into the comfortable silence, you couldn’t help but smile at him a little. “You know, you were kind of, well really, hot when you were coaching me back there.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh really? Didn’t know you were into coaches,” he replied, leaning closer with a playful glint in his eye.

You felt heat flooding your face as you tried to maintain your composure. “What can I say? I guess I’m a little hot and bothered by a guy who knows what he’s doing.”

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hmm, maybe you should forget more moves so I can show you how to do them, and some more,” he teased, winking.

Feeling a rush of flustered energy, you tossed the towel at him playfully. “Shut up, Ben!”

He caught the towel with a laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement. Before you could react, he leaned in, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you closer. His lips brushed against yours in a teasing kiss, warm and lingering.

“Just so you know,” he murmured against your lips, a playful smile dancing on his face, “I won’t tease you... for now.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile breaking through as you quickly picked up your bag and darted away, glancing back at him with a cheeky grin. “Catch me if you can!”

Ben laughed, instantly springing into action, his competitive spirit kicking in as he chased after you. You could hear his footsteps pounding behind you, and the thrill of the moment sent your heart racing.

You knew what lay ahead, your work was cut out for you, but this playful exchange filled you with renewed energy. With only a matter of days left to tighten up your game, you were ready to tackle it head-on, and with Ben by your side, you felt unstoppable.

The roar of the crowd felt distant as you walked through the tunnel and set your bag down, it was like background noise as you stepped up to the baseline.

You bounced the ball a few times, steadying your breath, closing your eyes and remembering to feel the court. For the first time in a long time, the nerves weren’t overwhelming. The fog that had clouded your mind for so long had finally lifted. You could feel it, the control, the power, the pure joy of being here again.

You looked across the net at Emma Navarro. She was focused, her eyes sharp, but you weren’t intimidated. Not anymore.

You tossed the ball up, your body moving fluidly. The serve was powerful, and precise, landing just inside the line. Navarro barely managed to reach it, her return shaky, and you pounced on the ball with ease, sending a clean shot down the sideline. Point, yours.

As the game continued, you could feel yourself loosening up even more, the flow of the game taking over. You were back to being fluid. Each serve was strong, each shot deliberate. The crowd's cheers grew louder with each point you won, but your focus was laser-sharp. You were smiling, actually smiling, because, for the first time in a while, you were enjoying the game in full. Truly enjoying it.

Navarro, on the other hand, was starting to crack. Frustration etched itself onto her face as she missed returns, her shots hitting the net or flying wide. You could see it in her body language, the stiff movements, the clenched jaw. She screamed to herself after missing a particularly crucial point, her racket bouncing once on the ground in frustration. You remained composed, feeding off her energy but not letting it affect you.

You’d been there before, the frustration, the doubt, but today, you were on the other side of it. Calm. Confident.

The last point of the match came fast. Navarro’s serve was weak, and you returned it with a backhand that forced her wide. She scrambled, barely making it, sending a lob over the net. You didn’t hesitate. Stepping into position, you smashed the ball down with a powerful overhead. The crowd erupted, but you barely registered the sound. It was just you and the court, and that sweet feeling of victory settled over you like a warm glow.

Game, set, match—yours.

Navarro offered a tight, forced smile as you shook hands at the net. She was clearly upset, her frustration barely contained, but you didn’t linger on it. You had won. Not just the match, but the battle with yourself.

As you walked off the court, your body thrumming with the adrenaline of victory, the weight that had been hanging over you for months felt lighter. The pressure was still there, but now, you felt in control of it.

The tunnel to the locker room was quiet compared to the roaring arena. You rounded the corner, towel slung over your shoulder, your breath and heartbeat finally starting to steady. As you approached the locker room door, you stopped in your tracks.

There, sitting on the bench inside, was Ben.

He stood as soon as he saw you, a wide grin breaking across his face. He didn’t wait for you to say anything before he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms, holding you tight.

“You did it, baby,” he murmured into your hair, his voice warm with pride. “I knew you would.”

You buried your face in his chest, the exhaustion settling in, but there was also this overwhelming sense of relief and joy.

“I haven’t felt like that in so long,” you whispered, your voice muffled against him. “It felt... so right.”

Ben pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks gently. His eyes were soft, filled with so much love that it made your chest tighten in the best way.

“That’s because it was right. You were incredible out there. I’ve never been prouder of you, my star.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling at the nickname.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you said, your voice soft but full of truth.

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled back.

“I’ll always be here to help you get on your feet,” he said quietly, his eyes locking onto yours with a sincerity that made your breath hitch. “No matter what. I’ll be right here, cheering you on, every step of the way.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of his promise settle deep within you. It wasn’t just about tennis anymore. It was about everything, the future, the ups and downs, the challenges and victories. And you knew, without a doubt, that Ben would be there through it all.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Ben’s grin softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he pulled you close again, his lips brushing your temple. “I love you too, star. More than you know.”

For a few moments, the two of you just stood there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading into the background. It was just you and Ben, your hearts beating in time, the promise of something stronger, something deeper, wrapped around you like a blanket of safety.

With his arm draped around your shoulders, the two of you walked out of the locker room, your heart lighter, your spirit soaring. The future felt wide open, full of endless possibilities and with Ben by your side, you were ready for all of it.

And just like that, the world melted away again, leaving only the two of you in that tiny bubble of love and safety, where nothing else mattered.

#benshelton #ben shelton #ben shelton x reader

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njwinterquartz · 11 days ago

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Rephrasing some of this. Go support this interview because it was a pretty good interview and the interviewer was positive about Buck and Tommy. And I want to see people that are neutral to positive about it and that in general may have their biases but are able to not let it impact their work. And I’m tired of people, the bobs who can’t just leave it alone, just harassing anyone who doesn’t agree with them. Especially when it comes to articles and interviews because there are so few of them and they get bombarded with hate constantly. This isn’t really about ships it’s about I general how I’m tired of people getting harassed by them and just being expected to suck it up.

Go give some love in the comments of the interview with an actually good interviewer that was at the least unbiased. Because you’ve got some dumbasses harassing people in the comments. This was my comment as an example, also my response to them because I don’t put up with people doing dumb shit. Also report the dumbasses for harassment while you’re at it.

A rant below the line, explains what I’m intending with this post but I’m mad so it’s below the line. To sum it up, I’m saying support this interview because the person doing it wasn’t terrible like basically all the other ones. I don’t want anyone that’s neutral to positive about Buck and Tommy to be bullied and harassed by them because it always happens.

youtube

These are my comments as an example.

To be pretty fucking clear I’m saying this because for once in a god damn while it’s nice to have fucking interviewer that’s at the bare minimum neutral. This person was more positive but he was still fucking doing a good job at keeping his personal fucking opinions away from what he was asking.

It isn’t about buddie to me, it’s the fact they were harassing other people and the person that did this interview. I am tired of them harassing anyone who is even remotely positive about BuckTommy and those people are just expected to take it. I follow one of the episode reviewers on Twitter and she’s great but every time her reviews are posted they swarm them and harass her so she can’t come off private. That’s why I’m supporting this interview.

#911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #Youtube #9-1-1 interview

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cvrnelians · 4 days ago

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unfollowed - chapter one

Kendall has been building up the courage to talk to you for a while now. When he finds your Twitter account, he sees this as the perfect opportunity to get to know you anonymously, without any preconceived notions.

He didn’t mean for it to go this far. He’s planning on telling you the truth eventually, he really is! One day. When it’s the right time.

Ideally, before you figure out he’s not Greg.

Includes Kendall being embarrassing, catfishing, manipulation. 18+ only.

You figured you knew all there was to know (and more than you ever even wanted to know) about the Roys. Who didn't? They were that perfect mix of arrogance and absurd wealth that made news outlets go apeshit. You tried your best to tune them out as you scrolled through social media, but your attempts to evade them were simply unrealistic at this point.

When you were away from your phone, you were still inundated with information about whatever scandal of they week they were involved with. You would catch a blip of Roman being hounded by paparazzi on the news, or one of your professors would bring up Shiv's campaign strategies as a controversial talking point. They were even a source of conversation during forced family functions, somehow melding into a foolproof way to break the ice. You were doubtful of many things in this life, but if there was one thing you knew for certain, it was this:

Nothing created stronger bonds between people than by banding together to talk shit about other people.

Everyone seemed to have something to say about that family. There were so many of them, and they were so awful, and their power and influence only made them even more awful. You likened them to the popular kids at school, or the Kardashians or something. The general consensus was that everyone hated them, and yet, no one turned down an opportunity to see what they were up to, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days a year. They were a guilty pleasure for the masses, actors in a soap opera designed to make everyone stop and stare.

But mostly point and laugh.

It all started with a Twitter DM. Seriously. A Twitter DM.

In retrospect, you couldn’t help but think about how comical it all was—being romantically pursued through a Twitter DM.

At least it wasn’t Instagram. Whenever someone messaged you there, you never gave it a second look. Instagram DMs from strange men you didn't know typically manifested as a reaction to one of your photos, which you were none too crazy about. A Twitter DM was strange in a different way. You had little to no identifying information on your account, just your first name and your birthday. Your avi was a photo of your cat taking a nap. If someone had something to say to you on Twitter, it wasn't appearance based. It was a genuine reaction to something stupid you said, plain and simple.

And so, because you had a grand total of seven followers (two friends you barely spoke to, your sister, three acquaintances from college, and one bot), the message stood out. As one could expect from someone with seven followers, your tweets were nothing groundbreaking. You treated Twitter like it was your personal diary, or some kind of vat to pour your stream of consciousness into.

Your most popular tweets?

I'm exhausted I dyed my hair all by myself and it actually looks okay Should i go vegan? Oh god i'm so exhausted rn That one song by the gorillaz about sunshine in a bag? that's my shit I'm so exhausted

You were quite the wordsmith, if you said so yourself.

Best (or worst) of all, though?

can we as a society please make a pact to collectively block the roy family on every platform? i’m so sick of hearing about them and seeing their dumbass posts on my feed. i’m honestly going to have a mental breakdown make it stop please

Within ten minutes, someone favorited what you wrote. When you went to check your notifications, you were surprised to find that the person who liked it wasn’t anyone you knew personally, or the bot. When you tapped on the profile, you felt a pit in your stomach. You reminded yourself that you should really make your account private, simply to avoid such a bizarre, anxiety-ridden feeling. You hadn’t thought anyone would actually try and contact you. Why would they?

You breathed a sigh of relief when you pulled up the account, which was nothing too crazy. The impression you got from the very limited information you had (considering the person’s avi was the Gucci logo, which elicited a massive eye roll) was that it was most likely a man, probably in his twenties or thirties. Very into bitcoin. Very into US stocks. Very into retweeting disparaging things about Harvard and trashing various platforms’ “algos” and other things that were totally irrelevant to your life.

The one thing that broke up the monotony of it all?

The Beastie Boys.

Oh, and Wu-Tang Clan.

Whoever this dude was, he had a Spotify account, and he wasn’t afraid to use it. He had a penchant for screenshotting whatever (predominantly 90s of any and every genre, and occasionally EDM) song he was listening to and posting it for all the world (aka his 35 followers) to see.

As if anyone cared. You couldn’t be too hard on him, though, not when you had done the same thing on your own account multiple times, and continued to do so. You actually had similar taste in music, which you thought was always a fun commonality to share.

Just as soon as you started to lurk the profile, you got a message in your inbox. It happened so fast that it almost made you jump, like he knew you were looking at it.

I would have to agree. They’re pretty awful, but definitely not worth the mental breakdown.

Then, a few seconds later…

Kendall doesn’t seem so bad, though.

You weren't planning on responding. It was rare that you had any interaction with strangers on the internet. It wasn’t like you were avidly against it or anything. You just…never really found the time. But it was 4:30 in the morning, you were wide awake, your tv wasn't working, and you wanted something to keep your mind occupied.

You got home from your sister’s wedding at around midnight, but you felt too wired to sleep. It had been a nice evening overall. The ceremony was beautiful, the reception was fun. You were beyond happy for your sister and her now husband, who you suspected she was going to marry for years now. There was drinking and dancing and you saw family members you actually liked, family members you hadn’t seen in years. Your mom had flown in from California. Even though you spoke on the phone nearly everyday, getting the chance to actually see her was always wonderful.

Conversely, Aria’s wedding had forced you to come into contact with someone you hadn’t seen in years, someone you hated more than anyone else in the world.

Well, maybe that was dramatic. There were worse people in the world. But you did hate him. A lot.

Your father.

Crazy, how just one drop could poison the well, ruining a perfectly good night.

You shoved those thoughts down, instead redirecting your focus towards the weird little man on your phone. You decided you had reached your allotted crying limit for that week.

You both replied at the same time.

Really? I get weird vibes off him.

Not to make you feel weird or anything, but I'm scrolling through your tweets and you listen to some pretty good music.

That did make you feel weird—but a good weird, an amused sort of weird. This random person was scrolling through your tweets, developing a positive opinion of you based on your disdain for the Roys and the your penchant for blaring the Blood Sugar Sex Magik album in your car on the way to work. You had stalked his profile too, so you supposed it was only fair to allow him to do the same.

Wait. Weird how?

Oh thanks. I know no one really cares what music I’m listening to but idk, I just like posting about it.

I’m the same. It’s like, I like my music so I want other people to like it, too.

Weird how though??

Meanwhile everyone else is just listening to *their* music, thinking the exact same thing.

I can’t really pinpoint it. It just seems like there’s more than meets the eye with him, but maybe not in a good way.

Like there’s a lot going on under the surface that we don’t get to see.

I get the impression that he has a lot to hide, you know what I mean?

Hah. I think you’re dead on with that one actually.

I read somewhere that he’s a pretty private person, which I think is kind of understandable all things considered.

Yeah, maybe. I don’t know, for some reason I get this weird feeling that in a few years it’s gonna come out that he’s done some seriously bad things that got covered up because he has money.

It’s one thing to keep things to yourself, but I think there’s more to it than that.

There’s private and then there’s secretive, if that makes any sense.

Yeah, I get that.

But what do I know? This is coming from someone that posts their every waking moment on twitter. I’m mostly anonymous on here, but maybe I need to “take a page out of his book” or whatever. I would prefer not to, though.

Too complicated?

Yeah. And bleak.

At least, that’s how it seems to me.

His replies had been coming in fast, but this one took a bit longer to arrive. You could see the little dots indicating that he was typing pop up and disappear a few times, like he kept writing something and deleting it. He seemed to actually care about your reaction to what he was saying, trying to come up with the right thing to say next...which was odd.

Then again, you kind of did, too.

Wow. Tell me how you really feel.

I’m not normally this judgmental. It’s just with that family in particular. They’re so oversaturated in the press. Maybe he’s a nice guy. He clearly has some depth to him. Who knows, though? I’ll never actually meet him lol.

I mean, not that I should care what some random on twitter thinks of me anyway. But idk.

“Some random” lol. Thanks for that. I do have a name, you know.

What is it, then? I MUST know.

You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

Post Malone??? Is that u????

Lol Jesus Christ. No.

Jesus Christ???? I didn’t know you had a secret twitter. Do you have a finsta, too?

Alright smartass. My name is Kendall, ironically. Also, what’s a finsta?

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. You didn’t want to make him feel bad, though. If he didn’t know, he didn’t know.

Wait, how old are you?

My guess? Probably older than you.

Oh???

But not by much.

Wow. Very elusive. Are you sure you’re not Kendall Roy?

Again, you were left waiting. The dots popped up and disappeared. Once, twice, three times.

I could only dream of being that handsome and powerful. But no, I’m not. Sadly.

Lol I like how you had to think about it.

I was sending an e-mail for work, geez. I’m not obligated to respond to you immediately.

At 4 in the morning? You must be a workaholic.

Oh, you have no idea…

You wondered if he was bored, too. He seemed genuinely interested in keeping the conversation going.

Usually I don’t like to give out my info but you seem fairly non-threatening. So, ballpark estimate, I’m somewhere in my late thirties.

It probably wasn’t the brightest idea to be talking to a stranger who claimed to be in his late thirties, which was, in fact, older than you. He easily could’ve been lying. Maybe he was twenty, maybe he was eighty. There was no way for you to know definitively what was real and what wasn’t, unless you did a bit of digging. You didn’t have much to go on, but you supposed it didn’t matter. You were just talking, and this little conversation would likely end within the next twenty minutes or so, when you finally willed yourself to shut your eyes and go to sleep.

What are you doing up so late, anyway? Assuming you’re in the US. You did mention that it was 4am.

Ah. So he was having trouble sleeping, too.

For context, I’m on the east coast, where it is also 4am. Which is ungodly late. Or early, depending on how you look at it.

I’m on the east coast, too.

You’re just as crazy as I am, then.

Speak for yourself, House of Gucci.

Lol wow you really are kind of a smartass, aren’t you?

I’m in New York.

No way! I’m in New York too. Upstate or downstate?

I don’t like giving out my info, remember?

You just opted to tell me you lived in New York completely unprovoked but ok.

And you’re right. You are older than me. "Ballpark” I’m in my twenties. But it’s nice to hear that you’re thirty and flirty and thriving.

Wow. I would love to be even just one of those things right now.

You frowned at that.

Aw. I can relate.

Well, maybe we can commiserate together.

Maybe tomorrow? I really need to try and sleep. I have work in the morning.

I kind of figured. What do you do?

Damn. He really did want to keep this going, what with completely ignoring everything you just said about wanting to go to sleep.

I don’t like giving out my info, REMEMBER?

Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I’ll let you sleep. Sorry if this was weird, I’m at the airport right now and my flight got delayed. I wanted to kill some time and you seemed like you might be cool, so

Have a good night, alright?

You smiled to yourself, leaning back into your cocoon of pillows. Texting had actually made your eyes a little tired.

You too.

As you set your phone down on your nightstand, you saw it light up one more time. You wanted to groan. Was this guy seriously trying to keep it going even after you said goodnight? Were you going to have to block him?

But no. It was just a notification that he had followed you.

“Cute,” you mumbled to yourself, following him back.

If this weird, pleasant little interaction was any reflection of what “internet friends” might be like, maybe you would leave your account public.

...for now.

#kendall roy x reader #kendall roy

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jasmine24715 · 2 years ago

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BNHA Actor AU

I’ve seen the bnha actor AU...I’m so late to the party...but I needed to come back cuz I got invested again.

So here it is, bnha actor au / reader insert headcanons

✧ You play a character in the LOV who is in a little “love triangle’ between Dabi and Shigiraki (Ironically enough it plays into your real life on set everyday lol)

✧ Endeavor played Thanos in the Avengers and you were Gamora so of course any chance you get on set with him you both reenact scenes-

"did you do it"?

"...yes..."

"what did it cost..."

"... honestly not much-" "DADDY NO!"

✧ now that you both play on Boku no Hero (but unrelated characters) you guys barely see each other

✧ but when you do he always makes sure to give you a hug and a pat on the head because he sees you as an actual daughter 🥺

✧ Everyone on set loves you and you always wonder why because you barely do anything but stay in your trailer all-day

✧ Toga always tries to drag you out of your trailer to hang out and go eat with everyone tho so :P

✧ you and the LOV cast did an interview altogether and it was purely chaotic because everyone is a menace both on and off screen.

✧One time you were paired to do an interview with both Dabi and Shigaraki and safe to say, there are now memes and compilations of you three being THE WORST to interview. Either one of you answers the questions normally and the other two are making jokes OR all three are answering questions in the most chaotic way possible.

✧Dabi sometimes asks you to stay and talk in his trailer as he’s getting HOURS of makeup on and you oblige cuz you feel bad lol. So you both have a bunch of Instagram photos/videos of you two “behind the scenes”. You barely post tho so everyone’s still waiting for the U.S.J. Arc photo dump.

✧Since finding out you and Dabi hang out when he’s getting his prosthetics and makeup done, Shigiraki decided it was his place to drag you out of your trailer and force you to sit through his makeup hours. His still a little weirdo in real life but he’s not AS weird and just jealous lol

✧You and Dabi jokingly ship your castmate's characters together and make fun of them for it, but when both Todoroki and Inasa became a couple in real life, it shook you both. #inatodo trended on Twitter for days.

✧ while you’re usually in your trailer the one time you decide to go out and watch your fellow castmates work, you walked in when they were filming young Shigiraki murking his whole fam.

✧safe to say you never go out of your trailer to watch anyone doing their scenes (unless it involves you) ever again. (you cried...hard) ps. the actor who plays young Shigaraki also has a baby crush on you and it is adorable when he tries to follow you to your trailer. A real-life gremlin just like his character.

✧after a while since everyone knows you just stay in your trailer they decided if you’re not going to come to them, then they’re going to come to you. :D

✧ and yes that includes the 1-A actors, all of the LOV cast, and sometimes even the pro-heroes. Your trailer just now unanimously became the hang-out spot and while you act annoyed, you secretly love the company.

✧the pro-heroes who are basically just veteran actors (except for Present Mic, who’s only been acting for a year) like to ask how you’re doing and settling into the industry/business since it can be a rough/demanding one.

✧They really care and want to share their wisdom with everyone because they’re just the best.

✧It’s ALWAYS hilarious when someone messes up their lines because the whole cast will literally DRAG them for it, so now everyone's afraid to fuck up.

“Master...”

“So, you fail once more Todo-...Tog...Tomura? God, there’s too many of you.”

“CUT”

“Master how could you have betrayed me like this...”

“Damn even All For One can’t remember your irrelevant ass”

“HE’S THE ONE THAT MESSED UP!?? NOT ME?!”

✧you and Twice like to play small pranks on your respective castmates and come back together to give each other ideas.

✧sometimes Dabi ends up finding out about the prank early and joins you to prank the rest of the gang.

✧red carpets....a WHOLE DIFFERENT can of works to open that i don't have time to get into. Let's just say as chaotic as you all are behind the scenes on set/interviews is 10x worse at red carpet events. like why can’t y’all chill?!?!

Anyway, that’s all I have for this, sorry if it sucked but it’s been a while lol. Watch BNHA and drink your water, k bye.

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all-the-things-2020 · 9 months ago

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Late Night Talking - Chapter Ten

Summary: The aftermath of the movie premiere.

Word Count: 3150+

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of parent death, issues with body image

Tag list: @rhoorl @avastrasposts @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @gwendibleywrites

We slept late the next morning. It was after nine when I crawled out of bed to use the bathroom. Dieter was still passed out cold, lying face down with his face crammed into a pillow, his bare ass poking out from under the covers. I took a look at myself in the mirror and wished I hadn’t. My hair was sticking up in all directions and there were bags under my eyes. It was a far cry from my red carpet look.

I decided to take a shower and start over with my hair, rather than try to tame it the way it was. When I got out, I slipped into a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, deciding to forgo a bra, at least for the time being. It was going to be a lazy day, after all.

Dieter was still asleep. I leaned over the bed to cover him up and he grunted. “Why are you so obsessed with my butt?,” he mumbled.

”I’m not obsessed with your butt,” I told him. “I just didn’t want it to catch cold.” I tucked the comforter around him and patted his bottom. “Go back to sleep, Deet. You’ve earned it.”

”What time?”

”Doesn’t matter. Go to sleep.”

He didn’t argue with me. I knew the press junket had been stressful and tiring. He deserved to get some rest.

I found my purse in the living room and pulled out my phone. I’d managed to remember to turn it off last night, so the battery was still at 65% when I powered it on. All my apps were lit up with notifications, but I went first to my texts.

SAM: You look GORGEOUS!!!!

ME: Aw, thanks. It’s all thanks to the stylists. Did my hair and makeup and everything. Felt like a giant Barbie doll. LOL

It was close to midday back East, so I knew she was probably at work and wouldn’t respond right away, so I jumped over to Instagram. I followed the studio’s page and I knew they would have posted photos from last night.

There were several pics from the red carpet, including one of me and Dieter. It was weird seeing myself all glammed up, standing beside him as he posed effortlessly for the camera. I could see that I was a bit stiff and awkward, despite the elegant dress and high heels. Still, I looked nice. Not bad for a first time, I thought. Then I started reading the comments.

She’s OLD.

Come on, girl, at least dye that gray hair. Woof.

Thought Bravo had better taste than that.

Def a publicity stunt. Prob trying to hide that he’s gay AF.

If they think we’ll fall for that, he needs a new publicist. Lots of actresses they could have hired to help his image. Barf.

I think she looks nice. For a middle aged woman.

There were positive comments, of course, many of them, but my eye went right to the negative ones. After all, most of the positive comments were simple heart emojis or “they look so cute” or other generic messages. The negative ones were more pointed.

I closed Instagram. Twitter would be even worse — there were so many trolls on there that I hardly ever posted anything anymore. Maybe tumblr would be kinder. I was wrong.

There were several posts under the hashtag “dieter bravo” that displayed one of the Getty photos from the night before and had commentary along the lines of “I’m glad he’s so happy” and “Aww, they made it red carpet official” but there was also lots that claimed to be insanely jealous of me for being beside him.

Oof, not to be that girl, but I could pull off a red carpet look better than that, just saying.

Not sure what he sees in her, but you do you, Dieter.

He looks AMAZING as always. Wish she’d worn something better.

She looks like she doesn’t want to be there. I’m sure it’s overwhelming and all but at least look happy to be next to him. I’d kill to be on the red carpet with him.

Ugh, I hate her, lol. Seriously, does anyone else think he’ll be back on the market soon? She is so not his type. Dieter fucking Bravo is a party boi.

I could feel tears stinging at the back of my eyes. It was silly — I knew they were making the comments out of jealousy or sheer assholery — but it was like being teased or excluded on the playground in elementary school. It still hurt.

Fortunately, my phone pinged with an incoming text.

SAM: Those stylists couldn’t have done it without something amazing to start with — YOU! I am so proud of you, chickie! You rocked that red carpet. And Dieter 🥵Don’t know how you manage to survive around him without spontaneously combusting. Dude is HOT.

ME: You don’t know how badly I needed that, chickie! Been looking at comments on social and people are brutal.

SAM: Fuck them. I’ve been bragging on you all day. Everyone thinks you look fabulous. Trolls gonna troll.

I smiled. Leave it to Sam to cheer me up. Then another text came in, this time from Simone.

SIMONE: Girl! You were on fire 🔥 last night. Your pic is all over campus. Kids are all planning to go see the movie with Miss Emily’s boyfriend this weekend. Eileen had such a sourpuss when I saw her, lol.

ME: Thanks! Been seeing some haters online so glad the kiddos got my back. And I’m ROTFL over Eileen 🤣

SIMONE: One of my kids was IRATE over some of the stuff people were saying about you. She was going OFF! I didn’t even know she knew where the library was, lol. If a 15yo can see through their b.s., so can you.

“Hey.” Dieter came stumbling out of the bedroom with his hair sticking straight up and one hand in his boxer shorts scratching his ass. If only the fans could see him now!

”Hey yourself,” I said. “You need coffee?”

He nodded as he shuffled toward the kitchen island. “I got it,” he said. “You looking at photos from last night?”

”I was, but people are mean. Then I got a couple of texts that cheered me up.”

”People are fucking assholes online,” he said as he dumped water and coffee grounds into the machine. He slopped water onto the counter but didn’t wipe it up. He was messier than usual when he was only half awake. “First thing Carmen told me when she signed on was never read the comments.”

While the coffee was brewing, he fished his phone out of his pants, which were draped over one of the dining room chairs. He slumped onto a stool at the island and started swiping. “You looked so good last night,” he said. Then he yawned and scratched his head. “Anyone who says different has their head up their own ass or is just jealous. Or both.”

The scent of coffee wafted through the air and a shaft of sunlight lanced through a gap in the vertical blinds. The kitchen was illuminated with golden light and Dieter’s hair became a halo of fire around his head, just for a second. Who gives a fuck what Prissy McDickface on Instragram thinks? I’m the one here with Dieter, watching him smile at pictures of us while he’s waiting for his coffee. And if Dieter could smile before his first infusion of caffeine of the day, I knew he was truly happy. Because of me.

*******************************************

The movie was a hit. It was number one at the box office that weekend, and Dieter spent most of Saturday afternoon fielding phone calls and texts from Carmen and his agent. He looked every inch a Hollywood star as he sat on a lounge chair beside the pool with his Ray-Ban sunglasses on and his phone up to his ear.

“Yeah, set it up,” he said. “Can’t hurt to meet with them.” He looked at me over the tops of his shades and winked.

”Shit, I can’t believe all this,” he said when he’d hung up. “Carmen has ten journalists lined up to interview me. And half of them are from legit outlets, not just bloggers.” He laughed. “Who knew a twenty minute part would get so much attention?”

We had skimmed some of the reviews online and most of them had been positive. Many of them mentioned Dieter’s performance as one of the highlights of the film; several had used the phrase “Bravo’s back.”

“And David has two meetings booked with producers this week,” Dieter continued. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself but this might be the thing to get the ball rolling again.”

“I hope so,” I said. I knew that Dieter really wanted to get back to the level he’d enjoyed earlier in his career, where he was taken seriously as an actor. He’d taken just about any part the last few years, just to keep the money flowing but while movies like Cliff Beasts might be popular with fans they weren’t taken seriously by critics. And he admitted he’d been phoning it in before he’d gone to rehab. This film was the first project he’d worked on since and apparently he’s done a very good job.

“Just don’t get too famous and forget about the little people like me,” I added.

“I will never forget about you,” he said seriously. “And you are definitely not one of the ‘little people’ in my life. You’re huge, baby.”

“Yeah, that’s what some of the trolls online are saying,” I joked.

“Fuck them. I’ve been with skinny women and it’s like hugging a skeleton. You’re real, Em. Nothing fake about you. Which is one of the many, many reasons that I love you.”

******************************************

We had finally finished off the leftover Chinese food, so we decided to go out for dinner Saturday night. Nothing fancy, just a little hole in the wall Mexican place that Dieter was fond of, and not just because the food was good. The owners were very protective of his privacy and didn’t laugh at his clumsy attempts at Spanish. His father’s parents had been born in Ecuador, and he still had some distant cousins in South America, but Dieter and his family had only ever spoke English.

”My dad can get by pretty well,” he’d explained to me once. “He does business with one of his cousins who lives in Buenos Aires, and he sometimes visits his aunt in Santiago, but Freddy and I never learned. Hell, I took French in high school just to fuck with everyone. Freddy took German, of course.”

Although they’d come from Ecuador, Dieter’s grandparents were descended from German and Italian immigrants. “My dad’s grandpa Antonio Bravo married one of the Diefenbach girls,” Dieter had explained. “Huge Romeo and Juliet vibes there. The two families were rivals in the button business.”

My own skill in Spanish was limited to the Spanglish I’d picked up by osmosis from living in Southern California (like Dieter, I’d take French in school, because I thought it sounded fancy). But everyone at Ramon’s was friendly and very patient with our attempts to do more than just ask for what was on the menu.

”Buenos noches,” our waiter said as we sat down at our table, tucked away in the back. ”El jefe said you get free margaritas because the movie is doing so well.”

”Gracias,” said Dieter. “Um, dos platos de empanadas, por favor. Y los margaritas.”

”Muy bien! And my sister in law saw the movie last night. She said tell you she really liked it if I saw you.”

”Tell her thanks, man,” Dieter had exhausted his capacity for Spanish already. He was still running on fumes from the press junket. I could see it in his eyes.

After a delicious dinner of empanadas and enchiladas — not to mention two extremely generous margaritas — we went back to Dieter’s place and collapsed on the couch.

”If I went there too often, I’d gain thirty pounds,” Dieter said, unbuttoning his pants.

“The food is amazing,” I agreed, glad I was wearing stretchy pants. “You want to put a movie on before we succumb to the food coma?”

”You read my mind.” He grabbed the remote off the coffee table. We were only about twenty minutes into Jurassic Park when I felt his head slump onto my shoulder. He was out. I maneuvered him into a more comfortable position so he wouldn’t wake up with a stiff neck. I never saw the end of the movie. I was tired, too.

**************************************************************

We lay in bed, both of us wide awake at two a.m. after our nap on the couch. “Whatcha thinking about?” Dieter asked, his hand idly playing with my hair.

”Not much. Just feeling cozy. How about you?”

”I’m thinking how I could get used to this,” he said. “Dinner, falling asleep on the couch, lying in bed talking about stuff … I wish you didn’t have to go back home tomorrow.” He kissed my forehead. “You know you can move in any time you want.”

”It’s tempting but it would be a hell of a commute.”

“Quit your job. Get a new one. There are plenty of schools. You’d still be in the same union, right? Still get your pension?”

I rolled onto my back. “Deet, it’s not that easy. There aren’t all that many school library positions out there and they pay well enough that people don’t leave. Or they’re part-time at elementary schools. And other positions … yeah, I could do other stuff, but your retirement is based off of your final two years salary. If I took a pay cut, I’d get less so I’d have to work longer.”

“Jeez, you sound like my dad and Freddy. ‘Be practical, Deiter. Plan ahead, Dieter. Invest wisely, Dieter’,” he grumbled.

”I have to be,” I said. “I only have myself to rely on. You know my parents didn’t leave me anything.”

Dieter sighed. “You aren’t alone, Em. You have me.”

”For now,” I said. “I want to believe this is forever, Deet, I really do, but I just can’t jump off the cliff yet.” I sat up, hugging my knees. “I know you think I’m being too cautious, and I know it probably hurts you to hear me say stuff like ‘for now’ when you want to hear ‘forever’ but …”

He sat up and put his arm around me. “I get it,” he said quietly. “I get you. And you’re probably right. I’m too much like my mom. I need you to balance me out.”

”You don’t talk about her much,” I prompted. I knew she had passed away not long after he’d won his Oscar, but that was public knowledge.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, I’m still working through some shit in therapy,” he said. “My mom … she was an artist. Painting, sculpture, stuff like that. And that was the love of her life. Art. Creating. And once she created something, she moved on. She wasn’t interested anymore once a piece was done.”

I kissed his shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to,” I said.

“When she and Dad got divorced, she moved to New York City,” he said. “That’s why I went there for college. But about two months after I got there, she moved to Europe. So I went there after I graduated. She was in Italy, so I went to Milan. Then she moved to Madrid, then Stockholm — god, Stockholm was so freaking cold — and then I got tired of following her and came to L.A.” He laid his head on my shoulder. “I was going to visit her in Switzerland after I won the Oscar. She’d actually called me and said she was proud of me. But I had a movie to do first and … it was a car accident in the Alps. She and her latest guy were on their way to Venice and a dude in a Maserati blew a turn and crashed into them.”

”Oh, Deet, I’m so sorry,” My own parents had been ill before they passed, so I’d had some warning, at least.

He shook his head. “Hey, we’re supposed to be celebrating this weekend, not confessing our darkest moments. So let’s talk about something happy. Like my bank account after the movie earns out and I start getting some checks. We should go somewhere. Romantic getaway.”

”I do have a week off for Thanksgiving,” I said. My aunt always invited me up to her place for Thanksgiving and I always declined and ended up at some friend or co-worker’s Thanksgiving dinner. It was not my favorite holiday.

”Hey, see, making plans for the future.” He nudged me with his shoulder.

”It’s like two months away,” I reminded him. “Not that far in the future.”

”Baby steps, Em. Baby steps.” Then he kissed me and we stopped talking for a while.

******************************************

As I was driving home on Sunday afternoon, my phone rang. I usually don't like to use the Bluetooth, because it distracts me from the road, but I recognized the number. It was Sam.

”Hey, Sam, what’s up?” She rarely called; we both preferred to text. Our grown up version of passing notes in class.

“Just checking that you’re still alive after spending three whole days with Dieter,” she said. Her tone was joking, so I knew nothing serious had prompted the call. “Really, I just wanted to hear your voice. I saw the movie and it just doesn’t seem real that you and Dieter are … I mean, it sounds stupid, but I had to make sure you were still you.”

”I get it,” I said. “Hey, I’m on the freeway right now. Can I call you back when I get home? We can have a good talk. I’ll tell you all about the dress and the red carpet and … maybe you can give me some advice?”

”You better not be thinking of breaking up with him, Em. He’s the best thing that’s happened to you in a long time.”

”No, no, kind of the opposite. Shit, use your signal, you asshole! Sorry, some dude in a Tesla just cut me off. I’ve got to hang up. Talk to you when I get home, chickie.”

”Stay safe, chickie.”

I ended the call and tried to concentrate on the traffic. It was an incredibly long and tedious drive to make every day. There was no way I could keep my job and be with Dieter more than just on the weekends. And I would be foolish to quit for a guy I’d only known for a few months. Right?

I shoved the thought to the back of my mind. Sam would help me figure it all out. She always did.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x ofc #the bubble fanfiction #late night talking

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x0401x · 8 months ago

Note

Hi! I've only watched the anime for Tsurune and I LOVED the first two seasons but after reading some of your Tsurune posts it got me curious. How different is the anime adaption from the source material? It sounds like an entirely different thing! I really liked the first season, but apparently it was a disaster? In what ways, if you don't mind me asking? Should I read the novels instead? I'm sorry for so many questions or if you've answered these already

Oh.

Oh, holy shit.

This is not the kind of ask I was expecting to get in the year of our lord 2024.

I’ll start by saying that you’re totally right. It sounds like an entirely different thing because the original work and the anime adaptation are, in fact, almost entirely different from each other. If you ever look for reviews of volume 1 on Japanese sites, the comment you’ll see the most from people who also watched the anime is “it’s so different from the novel that it might be best to just view the two as separate stories”. If I had to estimate how much of the novels was actually included into the animation, I would say 5% to 10%. I’m being pretty generous here.

You’re also right about the first season being a disaster. I remember that when I first watched the first episode of S1, by the moment that the series title came up, I immediately thought to myself, “This won’t sell well. 3k DVD copies, give or take”. And turns out I was wrong. It actually sold around 2.7k, which is even worse than what I had predicted. It did so infamously bad that many fans were worried about the second season before it came out, and some people were being rather foul-mouthed about it, which was a shock for me because you don’t usually see Japanese fans not following fandom etiquette. However, there was much more effort put into S2 than S1, thankfully. There’s also the whole thing with the arson attack, which pulled in people’s interest and support for the series. Overall, it did fairly well, I believe. I would never say that S2 does the novel any justice, but it was light years better than S1. That’s something everyone agrees to, even those who enjoyed S1.

Still, though. Even with S2 being far more successful than S1, that’s technically not so big of a deal, considering S1’s tragic underperformance. The series is known here in Japan mostly because of its association with the arson, but not many people are really into it. I would say that it has a niche audience consisting of 1) people who were already fans of KyoAni to begin with, 2) novel readers and 3) people who practice Japanese archery. As for the overseas audience… barely anyone has ever even heard of Tsurune, be it the anime or the novels. Many people who do know the anime have dropped it by S1, and the reason I see being pointed out the most is that it was “boring as hell”.

Other than this, I’ve noticed something in common when reading comments on S2 from Japanese Twitter. One thing people say a lot (and I do mean a lot) is that they didn’t like S1, but after watching S2, they were able to see that “KyoAni was, in fact, taking this franchise seriously”, so they gave it a second chance. This is meant as a compliment, but although it’s not backhanded per se, it’s kind of underhanded. I mean, who wants to be told, “Thank God you got your shit together this time around”? It’s good that S2 changed people’s opinions on the series, but the fact that it had to be changed speaks volumes about what people thought of S1.

Now, as to whether you should just read the novels, I would say yes. It’s literally the only way to know what Tsurune is truly about. But I have to warn you that, if you loved the anime, you might have to prepare yourself to see the things you loved about it either not being in the novel or taking a completely different turn in it. If you’re able to handle that, then by all means, go ahead and give the source material a try. It’s honestly one of the most unique novels I’ve ever read, and I’ve read just about every light novel out there. The depictions of Japanese archery and Zen go way deeper and you’ll learn much more about the characters, so I’m sure you’ll have a fun time!

#tsurune #tsurune tsunagari no issha #tsurune kazemai koukou kyuudoubu #tsurune hajimari no issha #kyoani #kyoto animation

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wangxianficrecs · 2 years ago

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simple love | 簡單愛 by auberjing

simple love | 簡單愛

by auberjing

E, 19k, Wangxian

Summary: “Of course! Zhan, fourth tone, water radical.” Wei Ying traces the correct character before them. His gaze is expansive. Lan Zhan feels it burning through him: knowing, accepting, acknowledging. He's glowing from within, all his messy thoughts and emotions and insides laid bare for Wei Ying’s careful, thorough examination. “Zhan. Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying murmurs. “It suits you.” Or: after a chance encounter with a dashing KTV shaoye, Lan Zhan, a 996 office worker, is left deeply questioning his life and priorities.

Kay's comments: Ah, I've read this story as a thread fic on twitter originally and I'm super happy to see it on AO3 now as well! It's such a delight! In which Wei Ying is a shaoye (male service staff) in a KTV lounge (karaoke/entertainment lounge) to which Lan Zhan is dragged by his new boss. When his boss forces him to drink, Wei Ying manages to save Lan Zhan by drinking the first shot, but the second one he can't decline/can't let Wei Ying drink without both of them getting in trouble for it, so he drinks it and gets knocked out in classic Lan Zhan fashion. Wei Ying then takes him home to sober up and lets him rest there and over the following days, he stays, helps clean the apartment and take care of Wei Ying and Wei Ying's home becomes a safe space for him, where he can think about his life and his job and where he wants to be. It becomes their home. Through Lan Zhan, we also slowly learn more about Wei Ying's life, about the family he had and the pain he carries and ah, it's also very sorrowful and heavy, but so good. This is the kind of story that holds up a mirror for you and you'll have to look inside you and look at your own life and ask yourself: "this is it? Is that OK? What will you do to change it?" and I enjoyed it very much, even if it left my heart aching a little, because there is no shaoye Wei Ying who will save me from my boss ;_;

Excerpt: His hand trembles ever so slightly as he reaches for the glass. “Wait,” a familiar voice says. It’s the shaoye from earlier. Grinning cheekily, he steps between Lan Zhan and the proffered glass. He has a cigarette behind his ear, and his eyes sparkle with good humor. Lan Zhan has never seen anyone more magnetic or attractive in his life. “I'll drink for him.” The shaoye takes the drink from Lan Zhan’s boss’ hand and knocks it back easily. Lan Zhan can’t stop staring. He’s transfixed by the sight of the man’s throat moving, the crystalline slide of liquor down his chin.

Excerpt²: Lan Zhan takes a step towards the front door. There he stops, mind working. The house is tiny — there’s barely enough room to stand, to think, to simply be. The occupant works two jobs, which means they probably have little time to tidy their space, and to relax or recharge in it. Nevertheless, they had still looked after him. Time and effort and care. Priceless things. Things far removed from the world of numbers and sales and contracts. Things that cannot be measured by any known instruments, save the human heart. Thank you, Lan Zhan thinks. And then a beat later, I’m sorry.

modern setting, modern no powers, pov lan wangji, service industry, bar/pub, strangers to lovers, getting to know each other, office worker lan wangji, fanart, past wei wuxian/others, past character death, jiang family dynamics, service worker wei wuxian, jiang cheng & wei wuxian reconciliation, angst and hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, grief/mourning, smut, hopefule ending, nude photos, nude modeling, good uncle lan qiren, lan wangji & wei wuxian get a happy ending, @wrecklwj

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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lemonlover1110 · 6 months ago

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𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 1] Offerings

Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

*Just want to preface that this is a historical AU but there will be some historical inaccuracies so if you see something odd, don't point it out. Also this is still a curse AU! if that isn't clear with four-armed Sukuna. Anyway I hope you enjoy!! Any general story warnings can be found in the masterlist!

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sukuna is missing something, he’s not sure what it is but he knows that he’s bored. He’s bored of everything that once thrilled him, tired of the same routine. But no matter what he does, he feels empty.

He’s done everything possible to soothe that boredom, which has come to the expense of many lives. It entertained him until it didn’t. Occasionally he does find joy in the horrors that he causes but it doesn’t feel like that’s enough anymore. There’s something that he’s missing, but he’s not quite sure what it is.

He has everything a man could possibly want– Although he isn’t exactly a man so his wants and needs are obviously different. He isn’t going to be fulfilled by the foolish ideals of happiness that men have. He doesn’t have much of a guide though, therefore he’s lost in how to fix his problem.

“Uraume.” Sukuna’s voice isn’t all that loud, yet Uraume nearly comes running to fulfill his request. The temple is uncomfortably quiet; everyone is ready to fulfill Sukuna’s every request, and their king does not raise his voice unless adrenaline rushes through him, or he’s upset. No one knows which is the worst of the two.

“My king.” Uraume kneels down before him. He’s quiet, too embarrassed to even bring up this question. It’s unlike him. Uraume is truly the only person that he respects which is why asking the question is hard for him to actually say. He wouldn’t trust anyone else with it though.

“What do men usually do?” He asks, which is odd for Uraume to hear. Sukuna was a man too, once upon a time. But he doesn’t remember that stage of his life, and he’s sure he wasn’t happy either which is the reason why he’s the monster he is now.

“I’m not sure.” They sound reluctant. “If you could be more clear, I can search for an answer.”

“Get out.” He orders, and they bow again before exiting the room. He wants to be left alone to gather his thoughts. He has all the time in the world to figure himself out, but he wants even more time. He doesn’t want to be bothered now of all times at the very least.

“There’s a woman with an offering.” A servant tells him from the other side of the tatami doors, followed by a shrill cry that makes a smirk come to his lips. That’s his answer.

Sukuna wants a successor.

“Take it to the servants, answer to her needs.” Sukuna answers, not really caring to listen to any requests. His mind is now preoccupied, detailing his next course of action. He needs to find the perfect woman to carry his heir, which he knows will be a hard task– Perhaps the hardest challenge that Sukuna has come by in all of his years of living.

“Please eat, Haru.” You put the bowl beside the young boy’s mat. You’ve been slowly watching your brother’s health deteriorate, slowly watching his death near. Worst of all, you have been looking for a cure that seems impossible to find because it’s not something that’s affecting anyone important.

It’s not a disease that’s affecting anybody else, really. It’s not infectious, you quickly found that out. You were glad about it at first, but then you realized that there’s no cure yet. Days pass by, and he gets worse. He refuses to eat anything, and when he does, he can’t keep it down for more than a few hours. His death is imminent.

“I did everything I could to get the right ingredients for your favorite food. Auntie made it extra special for you.” You make sure to tell him, but he can barely move. You kneel down beside him, grabbing his utensils and preparing a bite. “Just one bite, Haru.”

“I’m sleepy.” Is all he manages to mutter, and you feel a pull on your heartstrings. Your hand caresses his arm.

“Just one bite, okay? Then you can sleep all day.” You try your best to convince him. All he does is sleep, and no matter how many hours he sleeps, he wakes up tired. He prompts himself up, and you’re fighting back a smile– It’s barely any progress, if you can even call it that. “Open up.”

There’s a smile on your lips as you bring the food to his mouth, and he begins to chew. He takes the utensils from your hand, grabbing the bowl of food and putting it on his lap. You stand up and tell him, “I’ll get you some water.”

“He’s finally eating something.” You share with your aunt, making sure your voice is low since there isn’t all that much space. Her eyes go to him, and she really wants to say that it’s a sign of him getting better but it really doesn’t mean anything. Sometimes he eats everything that’s made for him, but he throws it back up.

“I really wish this meant he was getting better… But we both know that he’ll get worse tomorrow.” She responds, and you want to curse her for even mentioning it but you know she’s right. You don’t like hearing it though, you’re helpless. There’s nothing more you can do for Haru, you’re just waiting for the day to come.

“I really think he can get better.” Your eyes begin to feel with tears, knowing that you don’t even believe yourself. You’ve tried everything you possibly can, but you know that his time nears. You can’t just accept that fact though, he’s your baby brother, you can’t let him go. “Let me get his water.”

“I’ll get it… Think about what the medic said.” Your aunt reminds you of the visit from the physician. One that you’ve forgotten because you refuse to consider his one and only suggestion a possibility. The words flow back to your head,

“Your best bet is the deity up north. You have to bring him an offering, and if he deems it worthy enough, he will cure him.” “But if he thinks it’s beneath him, he’ll kill you.”

You don’t want to risk anything, but lately that seems like your only option. He’s not getting any better, even though you so badly want to say that he is. Throwing up everything he eats is not much improvement than not eating at all. You just have to figure out what is considered an offering worthy for the deity to save him, and to save yourself.

“I’ll be back, I have to figure something out.” You say, smiling back at your aunt and your little brother. They barely acknowledge you before you leave the house, which you’re thankful for. You just need a moment to gather your thoughts, decide what you’ll do next.

You need to sort out your offering for the deity, an offering that will hopefully sort out all of your problems.

“My king, there’s a woman with an offering.” It feels like the hundredth time that week in which Sukuna hears that sentence. Humans are greedy beings, and they all fucking need something. It’s unnecessary, purely materialistic– It’s a side of humanity that he appreciates though. How much a human is willing to sacrifice for wealth or the promise of good fortune. Sukuna can’t judge, he's the sole winner in the end.

“Let her in.” He says, and the tatami door slides open. A poor maiden with a pale yellow kimono, and a woven basket in hand. You walk in with your head down, following the strict instructions that were given to you.

You’re trembling as you kneel down in front of the deity, bowing down to him. You remain bowing for however long he pleases, keeping your eyes shut because there’s tears building up. You have never been this terrified. Willingly putting yourself at death’s door is no easy feat.

“Rise.” He orders, and you straighten your upper body, remaining on your knees. You don’t dare look anywhere past his feet, keeping your eyes low and steady. You know that he’s staring you down, studying you. A smirk on his lips, thinking about how he’s found her. “What do you want?”

“My brother…” Your voice is shaky, and you try your best to compose yourself. You can’t start crying in the middle of it, you’ve gotten this far, he’ll surely kill you if you begin to sob at his feet. “He’s sick. The medic can’t cure him, and he told us you were our only choice.”

He’s not really listening. Something about a brother is all he grasped. He’s more into the way your lips move, and the tears of pure fear that well up in your eyes. He can tell that you really made an effort into your look today, even though you don’t look extravagant. Which for some reason he likes, he doesn’t want an arrogant woman in his chambers, he already has enough of them. He especially doesn’t want one of them carrying his heir.

What really draws him in is that certain look in your eyes. The clear innocence that’s written all over your face. You’re the perfect lily that he can’t wait to tear apart, petal by petal. That finalizes his decision.

“What do you have for me? Open the basket.” He orders, and you do as he says. Regret washes over you as you open it, immediately knowing that it’s not enough. You don’t know what came over you when you had the bright idea of picking it. You unfold the cloth with shaky hands, revealing the gift for him. He’s usually furious with these types of gifts, since they hold no value to him but he wants to hear your reasoning since he has other plans with you, “Why do you come to me with this?”

“Pomegranates aren’t native to the land, and they’re scarce this time of season. I found some while searching for an offering and thought it was a sign.” You explain, and he scoffs. A stupid reason, one that should get you killed. If he wanted fruit, he would send Uraume to get it for him. He guesses it’s creative though, especially when almost every person that walks through the temple is willing to sacrifice a life. But you don’t gain points for creativity, no one ever has.

“Pomegranates? What am I supposed to do with that?” He’s mocking you, and you swallow the lump in your throat. He’s right, what is he supposed to do with a pomegranate? He’s not like you, he’s not just going to eat it. You’re usually smart about this type of thing, but you guess desperation got the best of you this time around, and now you have to pay for the consequences. As to be expected, there’s no answer from you, and he orders, “Look up at me.”

Your eyes slowly move up his body to his face, and you’re in awe at the sight. A mix of emotions flow through your body. He really isn’t a human. You were terrified earlier, but now you’re simply astonished. You never really believed the tales that were told about him since you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that a being like him could exist. But now he stands before you.

“Do you really think I’ll do anything with the fruit?” His voice sounds serious, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. You shake your head which irks him. “You have a voice don’t you? Use it.”

“No, my king. My apologies.” It’s strange, but you sound more confident as you look at him compared to before. It brings some sort of satisfaction to Sukuna since usually people that are allowed to look directly at him can barely communicate.

“I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself.” He’s thinking about how merciful he is– Which isn’t entirely a lie since Sukuna never gives a second chance. Except you have no idea how you can redeem yourself unless he dismisses you. Little do you know what he’s thinking for you. “I have a proposal for you.”

“A what…?” Your eyebrows perk up as curiosity takes over you. A proposal from a deity, it’ll surely be something that you have yet to hear.

“Bear my child, and I’ll forgive you.” He says, and you almost fall back. Your ears must be deceiving you, there’s no way that the proposal that you just heard is real. Your eyes are wide open, and you hear him laugh. It must be a joke then.

“Uraume!” Sukuna yells, wanting it to be clear that he doesn’t want to waste a single second. Not even a second later, and they’re in the room, waiting for their king’s command. “Take the maiden and prepare her for me tonight.”

“Wait– You’re serious?” You dare to ask. You haven’t even agreed, yet he’s getting you ready for tonight, to have a baby with him of all things. “You don’t even know my name, why would you want me to carry your baby?”

“What’s your name then?” He asks, clearly irritated by the question, and you have no choice but to answer. If you don’t, you’re screwed. “There we have it. Take her, Uraume.”

“Wait!” You shout, but Sukuna isn’t going to listen to more of it. Uraume guides you outside, a task that they usually do harsher. At any other time, they’d be dragging you outside but you’re not just anybody.

You’re the woman that will carry King Sukuna’s heir.

#[bonds of fruition]#jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna jjk #sukuna x you #sukuna jujutsu kaisen

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