#for some others I’ll see if it works or not

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.12 how you get the girl

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 12/x (probably 18)

ᰔ words. 11.3k

a/n. man the color scheme for this chapter is kinda giving BRAT lolol...i mean gojo IS brat. anywho, i don't have much to say at the beginning of this chapter but i do have a LOT to say at the end of it sooo see y'all at the bottom!! hope u enjoy. also BIG THANK YOU to @whereflowerswenttodie who beta read parts of this chapter for me n convinced me not to scrap it lol

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

11:03am you: hi! 11:03am you: good luck today 11:03am you: incase i don’t see you

11:05am Gojo Satoru: Why wouldn’t you? Aren’t you gonna be on the field for your newsletter shots?

11:07am you: i mean yes but idk where i’m gonna be stationed so 11:07am you: it might not be on UTokyo’s side of the field

11:08am Gojo Satoru: Okay then I’ll look for you before the game starts

11:10am you: no pls don’t. coach yaga thinks i distract you. i don’t want to get yelled at again. he scares me :(

11:12am Gojo Satoru: Haha you’re silly 11:13am Gojo Satoru: East side entrance at 2 11:13am Gojo Satoru: Be there

11:14am you: or be square?

11:15am Gojo Satoru: Yea whatever shape you wanna be in is fine cutie

It’s a bright sunny day outside, perfectly blue sky with a scattering of fluffy clouds seen outside the window of your shared room in your apartment, and you realize spring is fully here from the way birds chirp past the glass. You’re stuffing your camera case full of chilled Kodak film rolls, your last stash left, and it’s the last piece of equipment you pack before slinging the strap over your shoulder and heading out the door.

Mina had offered to give you a ride to the stadium since your car’s still at the shop, but you’re happy you opted for the bumpy bus ride and although you come close to low-grade concussions from the bang of your head to the window at every other speed bump, the music in your ears while someone else is operating a public transport vehicle helps you think creatively before shooting shots.

It was surprise enough that Mina of all people was going to this game, and when you questioned her about it in the morning, she looked at you like you were absurd to assume anyone from UTokyo wouldn’t be at this game, and sure enough, it’s all anyone on Instagram has been repping on their stories or talking about in the bustling minutes before lectures. Even Utahime was going to this game, and she hates all intercollegiate sports. You knew the game was a big deal, given the way Coach Yaga was yelled at via email by the Dean of UTokyo to make sure the team wins today because a multimillion dollar Nike sponsorship would be greenlit by the prospect (for some reason you were cc’d in an email chain among divisional higher-ups, but you weren’t opposed to snooping in on conversations that were entirely outside of your tax bracket).

It’s because it’s the second to last home game before the season ends, and apparently this has been statistically the best season the UTokyo D1 Men’s Soccer team has played since the new millenia. No pressure to the players on that fact, but failure wasn’t much of an option for them anymore. 

And you can feel the stakes the second you step inside the stadium. Packed would be an understatement, there were people flooding the aisles, overbooked for the sake of the university pocketing an extra buck no doubt, but spectators could care less since they were able to at least get in on the basis of that irresponsibility in the first place, despite the stadium’s capacity having long been reached before the pregame festivities even start. Banners and signs drape over railings with the school’s striking blue and golden colors, every single replay screen is lit up and brightly pixelated at every north, south, east, and west entrance for inclusive viewing. As you pass VIP security and make it into the lower field-level entry, the scattered chants from the crowd amplify in volume and you almost wince a little to yourself from the noise. The stadium felt like a living, breathing entity, pulsing with the collective heartbeat of everyone inside. 

You’ve never been more overstimulated in your life, except instead of finding it frightening, it was electrifying. And for once, you think you can understand what an athlete must feel when playing on their own home turf surrounded by those that are wholeheartedly rooting for them.

Hana is quick to spot you, panic clear across her face as she regards you with a couple pages with your assigned vantage points, a rushed briefing session, and then she’s darting down the sidelines to make sure equipment is set up appropriately where needed. She’s understaffed, given you told Utahime about Kai’s little intervention last week and she made a nasty point to the university (and possibly a handful of legal threats) and they relented in firing him. So now the three of you were down a photographer, and the extra work shows in the instructions she gave you as you skim the sheets. 

A glance at your phone tells you it’s close to 2pm, and your eyes take in the expanse of green on the field. UTokyo’s players practice kicking shots off to the right goal post, while YCU’s players practice shots off to the left. You can’t spot where Gojo is, but you faithfully head down to the East Side entrance like he asked you to. 

When you round the corner, you almost crash right into an Ichiko mascot, but swiftly dodge, and then you stop in your tracks when you see Gojo standing right at the concrete entrance. He’s leaning back against the adjacent wall, arms crossed at his chest, and he’s stretching his neck side to side with a creased brow, an intense look in his eyes, lost in serious thought, scanning the wall across from him like he’s mapping out plays in his head. 

When you approach him and catch the corner of his eyesight, he leans off the wall and flashes you one of his so extremely charmed to see you grins on reflex, and suddenly there’s nothing your senses seem to pick up on except him. Like everything else around you just disappears.

“Hey, you,” he says when he comes up to you, and you walk him like a dog back to a corner that’s tucked further away from noises and sights. You lean your back against the wall now, the coolness of concrete seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and he stands a step in front of you. Your hands toy with the strap of your camera.

“Are you ready to win today?” you ask him, and look off to the right into the flourishing seats that are still being filled to the brim, “clearly there’s no pressure.”

He breathes in deep, and releases it slowly, like there really was tension to relieve. “We’ve got no choice but to win.”

“Is that something Coach Yaga says to you guys often?” you ask him, because the man recited the same thing about five times in that email chain. “Also, apparently you take years off of his life.” Another thing he recited about five times in that email chain.

Gojo only addresses what he wants to address, as per usual. “Yeah, it’s something he says to us often.” 

“So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”

He looks at you puzzled, tilting his head to the side. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

It’s hard to assume that he didn’t have something to talk about with the intention of telling you to meet him here, because this is the same place you confessed to him a few weeks ago, and so is also the place he so painfully rejected you. But maybe he doesn’t think about these kinds of things as much as you do. “I see.”

His tongue pokes to his cheek as he studies your anticipating expression, and then he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “What are we doing? I mean, I like you, and you like me too, at least I hope you still do. Why don’t we—…why don’t we just give it a go already? I don’t see how we can move forward if you won’t at least let me take you out on a date.”

Your hands stop fidgeting with your camera strap from his words, and you lick your lips, suddenly unable to keep eye contact with him so your gaze drifts down to his chest in front of you. His uniform is clean, no smudges of dirt or grass, just pure white fabric underneath heat-pressed blue and golden accents, and of course, that signature number 10. You’re sure he’s all you’ll ever think of when you see that number now for the rest of your life. 

You know when you want something so bad you don’t know what to do once you have it? Because it almost seems too good to be true? 

“I just wanted to let stuff between us breathe for a little bit,” you confess, “it’s just, it was a lot to deal with. Being around you when I thought you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. I don’t know if this is odd to say, and maybe I’m overthinking it, but I just feel like somewhere along the way, I kind of…forgot who you were for a little bit.” This kind of vulnerability would have you running away with your tail between your legs with anyone else, but not with him. Not after everything. 

His expression softens, melting away that confrontational energy he had earlier, and he nods slowly. He opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t seem to find words. The presence of them is there, though, you can feel them. But what good are his thoughts if not voiced? 

“I just wanted to spend a little bit of time getting to know you again, I guess.” You squeeze your arm in reassurance of yourself because he wasn’t giving it to you. You let out an awkward laugh. “I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, to be honest.”

You can tell he’s at a crossroads, and you think back to this week and his efforts to get you to open up to him again. You know how he feels right now, because it’s exactly how you felt when he rejected you. Like when someone is so close, yet so far, you can feel that they’re within arms reach but never truly. And they’re slipping away for some reason that you may never know, but all you can do is assume that it’s a fault of your own. You’re not really sure what he can do to make you feel secure about this whole thing anymore, and you can see the slight panic in his eyes when he realizes that too.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he tells you, rushed with a desperation entirely contrary to his words, “what’s a week or two when I want to spend a lot more of those with you anyways.” But he takes a deep breath, like he’s already mentally preparing himself for an agonizing wait in his head.

There’s a sound over the stadium speakers, something technical and sporty and goes entirely over your head in dismissal, but to Gojo it seems to have a different effect, as he’s suddenly attentive and stands up straighter, that focused expression on his face from earlier resurfacing. You realize he needs to get back to the field. 

“Can we continue this conversation after the game?” he asks you hastily, already turning towards the center of the stadium. And he adds an obligatory, “sorry.”

“Yeah, sure,” you quickly agree, suddenly feeling like you’re taking up his time. 

He gives you a small smile, unsure in its presentation but pure in its intention. But he can only take one step towards the field before you reach out and pinch the fabric of his jersey to keep him still. He feels the tug of it and fully faces you once again. 

“Um. Just a sec,” you say, “I have something to give you before your game.”

“Oh?” he looks at you with interest, “I fucking love things.” 

“You have to close your eyes though.”

“…what is the thing…” He squints at you with a what are you up to expression.

“Just close your eyes!” you snap at him.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face and then he closes his eyes. “You’re scary as hell sometimes. Excuse me for being cautious.”

You roll your eyes, useless because he doesn’t see it, and then take a step towards him. You cup his jaw with the palm of your hand, his cheek twitching slightly from the unexpected contact, and then you raise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his cheek. It’s short and sweet with the sound of a peck.

“For good luck,” you whisper, then you quickly lower yourself back onto your heels, take a step back and tuck some strands of hair behind your ear. The ground suddenly interests you.

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times with shock and his hand comes up to brush the tips of his fingers against the spot you kissed him, and then his gaze goes comically dazed when he reaches out to hold you. “Alright, c’mere you,” he says, closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he leans down to kiss you but you laugh and push his face away.

“No no no, only on the cheek for now,” you say with a small laugh.

He does nothing to restrain his frustrated groan. “You can’t do something that cute and then expect me to be chill about it.”

“If you win, then, maybe I’ll let you kiss me for real.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes. Maybe.”

He’s close, towering over you near this bustling east side entrance that he seems to like so much, and his eyes drop to your lips. “Alright. I like those odds.” 

You give him a smile and slip away from him to get back towards the field, and you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

The pregame events are a blur, with blaring music accompanied by the sounds of the sports announcers clipping across the speakers, finally quieted down in time for the players to line up on the field for the national anthem which was then followed by UTokyo’s alma mater. 

You’re stationed on the same side of the field as Minato, UTokyo’s side, while Hana is covering the sidelines of the opposite end with the opponents goal post. Minato’s filling up a cup of Gatorade for himself at the athlete’s station and then he comes back around to find you.

“Are you ready to take your shots? I see Hana wanted you to shoot on film today,” he says to you as he sloshes around Glacier Freeze in a flimsy plastic cup.

You twist your aperture dial with your thumb. “Yesss, all set. I’ll try to keep up.” 

He nods at you in approval.

The atmosphere feels nerve wracking. Something felt different about this game, the stakes feeling high. Well, of course they’re high, because if they lose today then they’re out of the tournament. But the stakes feel high for other reasons too, an energy you can pick up on but can’t quite discern. 

Your eyes drift across the field where you can see a referee placing a ball at the center of the field. Off to the right, you can see Gojo standing with a few of his other teammates, including Geto, Nanami, and Choso, and they’re all gesticulating to various corners of the field as they discuss what you can only imagine have to do with their plays for today. And you realize— it’s their last college soccer season. Their second-to-last official home match before the championship, and for those of them that haven’t qualified for the national league, it may be their second-to-last match of this caliber for the rest of their lives. One of the final chances that they have to prove something of themselves. The determination was palpable. 

The chief referee’s whistle cuts through the air with three short chirps, and that gathers the attention of all the players on the field. UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kickoff, and YCU’s players choose to attack the left side goal.

Your stomach churns with anticipation, the crowd hushing too as all the players take their places on the field. If you feel nervous, you can only imagine how the athletes feel. There’s a rhythm that you’ve learned over the past couple of months getting to know the sport, where players stretch out their necks and kick out their feet and take subtle deep breaths as they survey the stands. Idle moments before the start of the match where they have no choice but to look forward and only forward, so they take a moment to stay in the present for as long as they can gather. You’ve never been much of a sports spectator, and perhaps you’ve only recently had some personal interest in the team, but you realize you feel pride in your school as you stand behind chalk sideline and see UTokyo’s colors scattered across the field in uniform. And fuck, you wanted them to win. You wanted them to win with fierceness and wrath, and it’s a desire you share with the crowd. 

Gojo spends a minute talking to the referee before the black and white striped man pats him high on the back in the good sport and urges him towards the center of the field. He lifts his foot up onto the ball, rolling it back and forth underneath the spikes of his cleat, and you can see it in his eyes, even from all the way over here, that he seems to have different ideas in mind for this game too. High stakes. Pre-determined, set with will, evident in the clench of his jaw and the concentrated furrow of his brow as he surveys the field with his eyes, and you’re lost in the sight for what feels like forever because you can hardly register the chirp of the ref’s whistle. 

And then the kickoff starts. 

The ball is tapped to Geto to start the play, and the first few minutes were intense as the ball was passed back and forth between UTokyo’s players, placing pressure on YCU’s defense as they inched closer and closer towards the goal. A pass between UTokyo’s #4 was intercepted by YCU and the ball was rushed down towards the left side, the crowd’s horror evident in the uproar as they raise to their feet in fearful anticipation, and with ruthless offense, YCU’s forward takes a clear sink shot towards the goal, and the crowd holds their breath before they watch Choso lunge for it in air, gloved hands firmly grabbing the ball and then pulling it to his chest with a possessiveness you can only expect to see from a skilled goalie, before he crashes down into the ground and the crowd releases relief in the form of rowdy roars.

Ten minutes in, with everyone on their toes, each team tested each other’s defenses. UTokyo were known for stellar offense, especially within the past few years with players like Gojo Satoru and Takuma Ino joining the league as powerful forwards, but UTokyo’s overall offense was still statistically second to none other than YCU. And the pressure YCU was putting on UTokyo’s defense was wearisome to say the least. You glance to see Nanami, who is UTokyo’s best defensive player, huffing and puffing as he stands between two light-footed YCU players in an attempt to guard, and fails an attempt to steal the ball before it gets to the feet of YCU’s striker #6, passed in a split second off to his teammate, with a fake so seamless that it has Choso just a couple inches away from touching the ball before it’s sent flying into the net. 

The noises from the crowd are still loud, but dampened in spirit. 

With the referees hand signal up in the air, the current score is confirmed. 0-1, YCU. 

Coach Yaga calls for a sub, in which he switches Nanami out for who you believe is a 2nd-year defensive player name Yuta you’ve seen around practice with a promising statistical record for interceptions, and you watch as Nanami takes the bench before he swipes the sweat off his face in exhaustion. God. Just fifteen minutes into the match, and YCU already has UTokyo’s defense winded from play. 

You bring your camera up to your face, forgetting for a moment that there was still a job to do here, and you position the direction of the lens towards the center of the field, where Gojo takes his place at the ball once more. Yuta briefly passes by him, signaling some play to him by holding up a number three, likely something Coach Yaga asked him to pass on to Gojo, and you see him briefly nod, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes slowly and pulls his jersey up to wipe at the sweat at his forehead. 

The referee chirps the whistle, Gojo taps the ball to Yuta, and the play starts. 

YCU immediately puts pressure on UTokyo’s offensive play once more, with eager movements to steal the ball, but it’s passed between UTokyo’s players with ease, more practiced and more sure. The kind of play that you and the rest of the school was used to seeing from them. However, Geto loses the ball on a left-back pass, but right when YCU makes attempts to cover field in a long-shot kick towards the left, Yuta intercepts the ball and swiftly passes it to Gojo.

The crowd immediately rises to their feet in anticipation, watching as Gojo shuffles the ball down the field, dangerously close to off-field boundaries, a signature tactic he uses because he knows there’s not a single player in the league that can match him in precision and control to keep the ball in-field on a steal, and he swiftly passes it towards Geto with a side-swept kick, beelining down towards the goal post, in perfect time for Geto pass-back to meet his feet and when Gojo was this close to a net, there was no stopping him. 

He draws his right foot back, and explosively kicks the ball forward, chipping the grass under it in the motion, and it’s sent flying towards the goal, and then threaded past the goalie right to the back of the net. The cheers that erupt across the stadium rumble the ground beneath you. 

1-1, even match.

UTokyo spends no time celebrating, other than a few pats to Gojo’s back as he nods in acknowledgement, no emotion on his face other than pure concentration and greed. The greed to win, like a righteous sin. He stretches his neck out, panting slightly as he takes his place towards the right side of the field and the referee chirps his whistle to signal YCU to start the kickoff.

They quickly make attempts in moving the ball towards their scoring-end of the field, but face push-back from UTokyo’s defense, unable to make it much further past the midfield line, and you bring your camera up to take a snap of Gojo, who you see is still standing off to the right side of the field. But when you position it and peer through the viewfinder, that space he once stood at was empty. You pull your camera down, and blink at the sight, and then the crowd is picking up in volume once more.

Gojo sprints down the flank, cutting past every defender, and moves towards YCU’s attacking goal, which was a shocking place to be for a center forward, but you could feel his desire and determination to steal this back-and-forth ball, and succeeds when YCU makes an open pass, thinking they were in the clear, only to have Gojo sneak in at the last moment and get the ball at his feet. 

The play moves by in a flash, a blur that you or anyone else in the stadium could hardly keep up with it, movements so fast you were shocked a human being was capable of even running that far in such a short amount of time, and in an almost embarrassingly easy play, Gojo makes a fool out of YCU’s defenders as he slips the ball through the legs of his last obstacle before he struck it with sharp precision, sending it soaring to the corner of the goal, past the outstretched arms of the goalie, and into the net. 

2-1, UTokyo.

It was electrifying, the feeling that strikes through the stadium, one that reaches you in your own blood. You’re shocked, standing here, after witnessing Gojo score two goals within the matter of minutes, against one of the top three teams in the league. It’s a shock that reaches everyone, including Coach Yaga who’s standing about ten feet down the line from you, his arms crossed, and you see his eyes for the first time as he takes his sunglasses off to get a better look at what he’s seeing.

You trail his sight, dragging your gaze across the field until it lands at Gojo, who is barely acknowledging the encouraging pats and shakes and goodhearted shoves that his teammates were giving him, because he was focused. It might sound crazy to say, but you swear his eyes looked like a fiercer shade of blue, like they were lit up, and you’re insanely glad you’re not one of YCU’s defensive players at the moment because you feel fearful of him even just standing on the sidelines. 

Your gaze trails back to Coach Yaga, who slowly puts his sunglasses back on but his brows are narrowed tightly as he crosses his arms over his chest tightly.

The “athletic zone”... You’ve heard of it before. A state of pure focus, of peak performance, where an athlete experiences optimal concentration and a sense of effortless control over their actions. In which they perform at their highest level, where time slows down, any and all distractions fade away, and they’re completely immersed in their sport at hand. At the task at hand.

Coach Yaga seems to pick up on the fact that Gojo was on the edge of tapping into that state. 

YCU makes a substitution, and you watch in anticipation as they begin the kickoff. 

There’s fire in their veins with desperation to even out the score once more, rushing the ball down the off-field line, one of their center forwards mimicking Gojo’s signature attack pattern, and Yuta struggles to keep up with the expert dribbling of a fourth-year player with more experience on him, so much so to where he completely leaves the ball unguarded and there’s an open shot, but Geto places pressure at the last moment, in a fierce battle for the ball, before YCU’s center forward loses the ball over the goal line. 

Choso picks the ball up, tapping on it harshly a few times as he surveys his eyes down the field, and all offensive players begin to shuffle towards their attacking goal in anticipation for the goal kick. He signals his hand down and then holds up two fingers in the air before placing the ball down on the six-yard box. He tightens the strap of one of his gloves, eyes squinting, and you follow his gaze down to a part of the field where you note UTokyo’s best aerial players are located and being guarded by YCU’s defense. And with complete trust in his team, that’s exactly where he kicks the ball. 

Geto makes first contact with the ball, his chest colliding with two other YCU players as his head comes out on top and he headbutts the ball closer towards the inner field, and Gojo immediately gains access to it with a bounce of his knee. The crowd holds their breath, fear that they’ll lose the ball to a steal in the split second it spends floating in the air, but Gojo urges it forward with a bounce off of his chest and then rushes it straight down towards the goal post. 

You wonder what sight he sees right now. Where you’re dead center, at no angle, lunging towards the sight of an open goal with a sole goalie standing in the center, anticipating to block your shot, and three defenders on your tail. There’s no room for error, no time to think, only instincts that you cultivate in the last leading milliseconds. They say that, in sports, athletes channel one hundred hours of practice in just a brief second on the field. A split second success that was years in the making. You can’t even imagine possessing that level of perfection in your body, or possessing that level of confidence that you can follow through with it in a moment as dire as this.

It was unreal, the way Gojo fades away from all the defenders, and faces no fear when confronted with the sight of the goalie in front of him while drawing his foot back to kick the ball. You lift your camera up at the last second, no time to think about aperture or ISO, just like he had no time to second-doubt a single twitch in his muscles, and his foot makes contact with the ball so harshly that you can hear the explosive sound even among the delirious cheers from the crowd, before he hook, line, and sinks it straight past the goalie’s head, rushing by like a scarcely deflected bullet, and into the net behind him. 

3-1, UTokyo.

The whole stadium is momentarily speechless, all players and referees and recruiters and reporters and coaches and employees alike, before the most deafening cheers you’ve ever heard in your life scatter across the stands.

There’s a moment of brief reprieve, where the players can catch their breath while YCU makes yet another substitution, as if they’re just trial-and-erroring it at this point, and the cheers in the stadiums remain idle as you can’t tear your gaze away from Gojo.

It’s one of those moments where you realize that someone who you thought was so familiar to you was actually someone you hardly knew at all. You knew he was a talented soccer player, everyone on campus knows it, potentially one of the best to ever grace the league, and the amount of times you passively watched his plays on a lecture hall projector screen as your professor enthusiastically broke them down during class, even before you met him, was good enough for you to realize that he was insane, a one-in-a-million, a talent you cannot replicate, one you have by divinity. One you were born with. 

And yet, somehow, getting to know him these past couple of months, he just felt so human. For someone so seemingly beyond you, he felt so…close? In those moments where it was just the two of you, it was hard to imagine that he was capable of such greatness, and that so many people were rooting for him with wholehearted tears in their eyes and cheers from their hearts, because most of the time, when he was with you, he was just a dorky idiot. You find that your heart is beating fast in your chest, that feeling of being unsure of what to do with what you’ve been wanting resurfacing powerfully. 

“This is insane,” you hear Minato say from beside you and you jump a little from your thoughts being interrupted.

You twiddle with your camera straps. “I know…almost done with the first half and we’re up 3-1…I thought YCU are number one in offense for the league?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean, yes, that is insane too. But what’s even more insane is that three of the goals so far have been scored by one player.” He tips his chin towards the right sight of the field and you trail his line of sight. “By Gojo Satoru.”

Your brow furrows as you watch Gojo, his hands on his hips and his mouth slightly open as he indulges in a few shallow breaths to gain energy while YCU prepares for kickoff. Three goals, by just one player. Your eyes widen when you realize that is insane, especially for a D1 semi-final qualifying match.

“You know what the divisional record is for most goals scored by a single player during a championship match, y/n?” Minato asks you as he lifts his camera up to take a picture of the area Gojo was standing in. 

You shake your head and wait for his response.

He drops his camera down and glances at the photo on his screen. “Four. During Keio Uni vs. Osaka Uni, near the beginning of the tournament back in 1997 by Osaka’s center forward number 24, Yuji Nakazawa. Meaning no one’s managed to beat that record since the new millenia, for a couple decades. Although a few players came close.”

You blink at him, and Minato is jerking his chin over in the direction of Gojo again.

“I think he’s trying to beat the record.”

You can only widen your eyes at Minato in realization, and then the chirp of the referee’s whistle draws everyone’s attention back to the field. 

The sports announcers go wild on the speakers, the crowd raving all the same, standing to their feet like the team just won the championship match.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! We are watching HISTORY in the making!! Gojo Satoru, UTokyo’s very own 3-year consecutive MVP, has scored his 34th goal of the season, highest of any player in this year’s season so far, and is now on the road to beat the league’s long-standing record for most goals scored by a single player in a championship match since 1997!!” And the crowd roars even louder as you stare out at the field in awe.

YCU starts the kickoff following the prompt short chirp of the referee’s whistle, and with two minutes remaining on the clock for the first half, make desperate attempts to book it down the field towards their attacking goal, one of their midfielders making a clumsy attempt to strike the ball to the net in the final minutes of the half, and Choso easily catches it in his arms, right before the buzzer of the timer sounds, and the match moves into halftime. 

All of UTokyo’s players immediately flock towards Gojo in sportful glee, finally having a chance to surround him and harass him with harsh pats on his back and ruffles of his hair for his play in the first half. Choso even puts him in a headlock because they all don’t know what else to do with their excitement and adrenaline rushing through their bodies. Their win for today was basically confirmed with the way he was playing. 

You catch a glimpse of him through the crowd of people, and he has a boyish grin on his face, reveling in the embarrassing amount of attention from his teammates, that focused look from before dissolving into his normal self again. But you can see through him, as well enough as you’ve learned to at least, and you can tell he’s not satisfied. He’s thinking it’s not enough. There’s still more to be done, and it’s not time to celebrate yet. 

His eyes scan down the sideline until they find you. 

Your heart jumps a second in your chest. He stands up straighter, despite his teammates still clinging to him, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes when your eyes meet. 

Cheerleaders take their place out onto the field, performing their numbers with loud music blaring, and the recruiters seated at their white tables get up to roam across the sidelines in discussion with referees and with Coach Yaga and with whatever players they can sink their greedy teeth into, as well as sneak at refreshments while they’re at it. You can see off to the right that Hana has reunited with Minato and she’s showing him some of the shots she took over at the opponent's side. 

UTokyo’s players start to make their way to the benches to grab for towels and drinks of water and to sprawl across in rest, and you hear loud familiar laughter approaching as you watch the players sprawl across the benches, so you avert your eyes towards the source of the sound. 

You see Gojo approaching the benches, two of his teammates slung with their arms around him in some type of adrenaline-drunken glee as they talk dramatically and theatrically which Gojo entertains with his own drunk-off-of-adrenaline glee. And you raise an eyebrow at his demeanor when he makes eye contact with you.

“There’s my freaky little photographer,” he says, and he’s standing up straight and—wait, is he puffing his chest out as he makes his way towards you? Oh for fucks sake.

Gojo has always been confident around you, for as long as you can remember, but in the fair few moments he’s been cocky, he’s been a menace. And you can only assume the testosterone-induced high of being on the verge of breaking a league record in front of the entire school then subsequently getting homiesexually praised by his teammates for the better part of the past five minutes, not to mention with the crowd and the reporters feeding his ego with a spoon across the speakers, he’s been transformed into the final boss of cocky.

His teammates surround you too, their hands on their hips as they assess you and Gojo when he meanders right up to you, arms held out to hug you, a sleazy sight you’ve seen probably six times this week, and you feel a rush of warmth in your cheeks as you place a hand on his chest to keep him away.

“You’re sweaty and gross, please stay away from me,” you reprimand him, “this is an expensive lens that is not humidity-proof.” 

“Hey, you’re the girl that Kentaro socked in the face with a ball the other day at practice, right?” one of his teammates asks, leaning in towards you to take a closer look at your face.

“Oh yeahhh, ‘cause Satoru wasn’t paying attention,” another one of his teammates chimes in teasingly, hardly heard over the loud remix playing in the background as the cheerleaders continue to perform on the field. 

You shrink a little from where you stand. Gojo’s got an irritated look on his face and he’s shrugging his teammate’s elbow off of his shoulder.

“I really hope you’re getting my good angles,” his teammate to the left comments before winking at you, and you purse your lips together. 

The one on the right leans in too, looking at your cheek with an assessing look in his eye. “At least it didn’t leave a scar on your cute face—”

Gojo shoves the both of them back and away from you by elbowing them in the chest, and they make deep eugh noises before stepping away and rubbing at their sternums with pouts on their faces.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he grumbles, “she’s mine.”

Your cheeks flush slightly with warmth at the attention, and you watch as his teammates scurry away to adhere to some social hierarchy Gojo seems to possess over them.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yours?”

“Yes. Eventually. Whatever, did you see me out there?” he turns his torso towards the field and points behind himself with his thumb, “when I—”

“Oh god, you know what’s soooooooooo super sexy to me?” you interrupt him. “When guys are humble.”

“Oh c’monnn,” he curls his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, to where you stumble a little on grass and he holds you when you fall into him with more clumsiness than grace. “Tell me you aren’t at least impressed by me.”

You pout, because you are, and you’d really like to give him some reassurance and validation, but for some reason his cocky attitude is setting you off. “Satoru,” you sigh, wiggling a little in his hug, but he holds you tighter, “I’m working right now. Cut it out.”

He lets go of you at that, sober enough from the adrenaline to realize you’re being serious, but he steps into your space so only you can hear him. “What? Are you embarrassed?”

“Of what?” Your face twists with confusion.

“Of me. Are you embarrassed of me?” he asks.

“No. Why would I be embarrassed of you?” you ask with sharpness.

“I don’t know, just, sometimes I feel like you’re always annoyed by me,” he says with a sigh. “It’s like, you’re really sweet sometimes, and then kinda rude out of nowhere, and it’s sort of messing with my head.”

You pout. “You were messing with my head for weeks.”

“And I’m sorry about that,” he quickly interjects, like he already knew you were brewing up that counterargument, “but you don’t have to act like you’re all disinterested and indifferent just to get back at me for it.” He places his hands on his hips and wipes his temple on the round part of his shoulder when he feels a drop of sweat trickle down from his hairline. “You don’t have to act embarrassed around me either.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” you deny, and your cheeks feel hot, and for some reason you feel angry. “In fact, I’m the one that should be asking you that question. Because I still very clearly remember that time you said I was just someone you know in front of your friends.”

He groans and tilts his head back with frustration. “Can you just let that go? Things have changed between us since then. Move on.” 

“You kissed me and then pretended I was just a stranger to you in front of your friends,” you grit as you cross your arms. “That’s the level of sincerity that I know from you, Satoru.”

“Oh, okay, so there’s nothing else I’ve done that shows you that I’m serious about you?” he asks rhetorically with incredulity, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.

No. That’s not true, not true at all. But he’s pissed you off now and so all logic was to the wind. “Doesn’t matter. If you’re not embarassed of me, and if you’re really serious about me this time, then fucking prove it.” You’re speaking out of spite, and you fear you’ve just set him off too.

“Fine,” he says, and he grabs the microphone straight out from a passing reporter’s hand, replacing it with a gatorade bottle. The reporter stares at the bottle he’s now holding with confusion. “I will.”

“W-Wait—” you squeak out, feeling the hair at the back of your neck bristle in anticipation and a shiver gets sent down your spine. The cheerleaders are making their way off the field at the end of their routine, and you can hear the thumps across the loud boisterous speakers when Gojo whacks his palm to the microphone to make sure the thing was on before he jogs to the center of the field.

The crowd is already cheering, ecstatic to see the afternoon's star player and pride & joy of their school, and Gojo takes a moment to soak in all the glory in comical appreciation with bowing towards all 360 degree angles of the stadium.

“Uhhh,” you hear Choso from beside you, who’s strapping his thick goalie gloves tightly to his wrists, “Why the fuck does Satoru have a microphone while standing in the middle of the field.”

“It can’t be for any publicly decent reason,” Geto muses.

All you can do is watch.

“Hi, uh,” Gojo starts, static blaring slightly across the speakers and the crowd winces with him, “sorry. I’m Satoru, Gojo Satoru, you might know me from—uh, the game you’ve been watching?”

Cheers all around, because as if a single person wouldn’t know who he is. The stands were rowdy and most definitely drunk off of sidestep beers the stadium has been serving all afternoon long. 

Gojo is about to continue speaking, when he catches sight of the table of recruiters in the corner of his eye and he turns to face them out of respect. “Oh, yeah, uh, number 10,” he tugs his jersey up at the shoulder to stretch out the fabric, the 1 and the 0 flattened in view, “division player ID 233-997. Coach Yaga keeps my business cards in his purse if you want one.”

“SAAAAATTOOORRUUUU!!!!!” you hear Coach Yaga yell from somewhere in the distance.

“Anywho,” Gojo continues, and the music dims slightly, so he glances at the stop clock on the screen, which shows him he’s got roughly five minutes left to pull off whatever idiocracy he had in mind before the second half of the game starts. “Just here to say that there’s this girl I really like.”

The crowd gets louder, almost deafening, and sonically mostly feminine in (delusional) hope he’s gonna name call one of them.

Gojo’s voice is crisp and clear through the speakers as he clarifies. “She’s standing over there,” he says as he nonchalantly points to your exact latitude and longitudinal direction, “with the big camera slung around her neck that looks like it could pull her down to the center of the earth. Yeah. She’s super cute and I really like talking to her.”

“Uh-oh,” Geto murmurs from beside you, and you glance at him to try to get a read on the situation but you can’t.

Gojo starts to pace across the center of the field now, like he’s working the crowd. “But get this—she thinks I’m not fuckin’ serious about her!!!”

The crowd groans with him in unison. Yep, most certainly drunk. Or high off of glee. Either way, he’s playing them like a violin.

“Huh?” Gojo’s voice sounds distant now, away from the mic, and you can see on the large pixelated screen that he’s being interrupted by someone that looks like one of the videographers, “oh, what’s that? This is being broadcasted? Uh-huh. Oh. I’m not allowed to cuss? Oh fuck, okay. Er— shit, okay. Wait—shoot, okay.”

Choso’s smirk is heard from beside you, and you catch Geto and Nanami shaking their heads in your periphery.

“LIKE I SAID,” Gojo continues into the mic, “the girl I like thinks I’m just messing around, so. Uh. To show her that I’m serious about her, I’m gonna…” He looks up at the sky to ponder, and you can hear people shouting all sorts of suggestions of nonsense from the crowd. And instead of saying proclaim my undying affection for her through a romantic soliloquy straight from my heart in the presence of the entire school, he says—“I’m gonna strip. Yes. Down to my tighty whities, Imma strip.”

H–

Huh?!?!?

You don’t even have time to be horrified or scared, you’re just bewildered beyond belief that that’s what he came up with.

What the fuck kind of reassurance did you ask for. And what the fuck kind of reassurance were you about to get?

The crowd goes wild, it’s no surprise to say everyone and their mothers wants to see him naked, even the straight dudes would dig it for the gym inspo. And he points straight to you, sleazy look on his face and you’re going to ignore the fact that he just winked at you too as he crosses his arms to hold the hem of his jersey and pulls it up over his head in the most raunchy and slutty way a man can take his shirt off.

The music manager is quick with the bit, and is most definitely a fellow Gen Z college student, because Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack (ft. Timbaland) starts playing across the speakers and the crowd goes ballistic.

“Ayo why’s Satoru Magic Mike’ing the field right now?” one of his other teammates calls out through a mouthful of protein bar, “What the fuck did I miss?”

The cameraman does God’s work in a hella zoom-in of Gojo’s sweat glistened abs, then pans up the naked expanse of the perfect taut skin across his chest, and you can’t help but stare even among all your horror. It’s like when a male bird embarrasses the fuck outta himself to attract a female bird sitting on a perch, except instead of within the context of a NatGeo documentary, this was your real life. Everyone wants him, but he’s making a fool out of himself for you. 

He pretends to stretch his arms up into the air, a cover-up to flex his biceps, and then he kicks his cleats off, and the socks come off too. Entirely unnecessary, as showing one's ankles is simply too slutty, but alas he’s a whore. And when his thumbs dip into the waistband of his shorts, and there’s anticipating screeching from the crowd, he finally gets chased by security. 

Except he’s an intercollegiate D1 athlete, why the fuck wouldn’t he be able to outrun a bunch of dudes in black?

The camerawork on him is phenomenal as he runs across the sidelines of the field, eliciting a wave down the bleachers. So good in fact that you’re pretty sure the camera man could shoot for the Olympic track and field, with the way the stadium’s got a clear sight of Gojo mouthing the lyrics Them other fuckers don’t know how to act from the song still blaring with satirical rage on his face as he makes a fool of the men chasing him around the perimeter of the field.

And then he does it, drops his shorts, discards them with a kick, and he’s down to his tighty whities as promised. Cameraman has got to be displaying some previously undiscovered level of talent as he zeroes in on a shot of said tighty whities, with Gojo’s—forgive me, I need to be crass—huge bulge prominent in Big Dick Energy fashion except his tighty whities have little red hearts in rows across the fabric so do with that duality what you will.

He’s outrun security with a steady grin on his face as he eats up the drunken crowd’s cheers and riots and roars and you feel like you’re the only sane person in this stadium, or maybe you’re just not used to the fanatics of a college sports crowd. You peep the men in black trailed all the way on the left side of the field where they abandoned their pursuit of Gojo.

He taps imaginary pockets at his thighs, very muscular thighs you take indulgence in noticing, as if he expected to find something there, and he looks around when he doesn’t. He shrugs and grabs the microphone of the next passing sports commentator he spots, and then he makes his way back to you.

His breathing is a little shallow, and he inhales deep to catch his breath. “Baby.” The crowd SCREAMS at the way he purrs the word into the mic. “Will you do me the honor,” he’s huffing and puffing, heard across blaring speakers, “of being my lawfully wedded girlfriend?” And then he holds the mic to your lips.

“W-Wha—” you stutter, and there’s chanting across the crowd with words that barely make sense until you finally realize they’ve started to yell say yes! say yes! say yes! “Oh my gosh, okay, yes, fine, now please, for the love of god, put some freaking clothes on!”

The crowd goes wild with cheerful glees, and Gojo shoots fists up in the air in celebration as he runs all the way towards the center of the field with high knees, and you’re gawking at the sight, before he falls backward onto the grass and makes delirious snow angels on the ground. You see Coach Yaga’s vein popping in his neck from pure agitation as he storms off towards the center of the field to knock some sense into Gojo, but you know that Coach Yaga can’t kick him out, because they still have a game to win. The perks of being the most valued player in the league is getting to act like an absolutely insane idiot because you know they still need you in the end to bring it home.

You glance to the right, seeing his teammates nodding slowly then getting back to wrapping athletic tape around ankles and stretching out shoulders, with immediate acceptance of his actions like it wasn’t even out of character for him to do. And you realize again that you don’t know Gojo as well as you think you do.

And then the halftime timer is up.

You see Gojo approach the benches in a quick jog, squeezing some water into his mouth with his green gatorade squirt bottle, and when your eyes flit up to the screens on all four entrances, you see that the cameramen are still all focused on him accompanied by the continued buzz of conversation among the crowd following his public spectacle. But he seems to already be past any semblance of embarrassment as he takes the attention with ease, before he glances up to make eye contact with you and then lightly jogs right up to you.

“Did that prove to you that I’m not embarrassed of you?” he asks you, cocking a brow with a smug look on his face as he gets all up in your personal space. 

“I don’t know, but I’m certainly thoroughly and expeditiously embarrassed of you now,” you say, cheeks feeling flush when he leans forward so he can make eye contact with you at eye level. “I’ll have to move to a different country.”

His grin is relaxed. “Yeah well you asked for it.”

“Maybe. But I underestimated what a lunatic you are.”

“You’re my girlfriend now, you’ve gotta get used to it.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. “Satoru–”

“Tomorrow,” he cuts you off, “Hinode pier. I’ll pick you up at six. It’s a date, so wear something cute. And preferably easy to take off.” And then he’s attentive to the chirp of the referee’s whistle in the air before jogging backwards towards the feel and eventually turns on his heel towards the field while you’re left with warm cheeks and a heart that felt like it was moving at a mile a minute.

The timer for the second half refreshes on the screen while you loosely hold your camera in your shaking hands. It occurs to you that you haven’t taken a single photo of him before the start of the kickoff, and so you bring the piece of consolidated metal up to your eyes, peering through the viewfinder and focusing it on the center of the field. And there he was. Your muse.

Gojo lets out a breath, which you can see even from here that it’s shaky and staggered with resistance, and he lifts his jersey up to swipe at the sweat trickling down his face as he eyes the ball underneath YCU’s player’s foot just prior to the start of the second half. There it was—that look again of pure focus. 

3-1, forty-five minutes on the clock. And the referee chirps the whistle to start the second half.

It’s immediately evident that YCU has returned to the field following halftime with renewed energy, pressing high down the flank relentlessly past UTokyo’s defense, so fast it was hard for anybody to even keep a steady eye on the ball with the fluidity of their passes. The persistence pays off in the fake double-pass that slips past Geto’s feet, a moment of hesitation in the broken flow of UTokyo’s defense, and one of YCU’s strikers has the perfect line of shot towards the goal before digging his foot under the ball and sending it flying towards the corner of the goal post, scoring themselves a goal within just the first five minutes of play.

3-2.

The pressure mounts at the next kickoff, and with about seven minutes of solid play, with back-and-forth passes, multiple attempts at both goal posts to no avail on either side, it was clear that exhaustion was bustling in the veins of all the players.

One of YCU’s offensive players seems to capitalize on this, jumping on a defensive lapse of a pass Nanami attempted to make towards Yuta, and the ball is swiftly stolen then raced back towards the goal post. Choso prepared himself at the line, light on his feet paired with a solid stance, but in a millisecond of a moment, YCU’s offense unexpectedly passes the ball to a player racing up the midfield, and the player chips the ball neatly into the exposed corner of the goal despite Choso’s attempt to lunge for it in mid air.

Equalized, 3-3 game, momentary shock across the players’ faces, and the crowd bustles with something that sounds less like glee and more life fear. YCU was prepared to live up to and hold onto their title as the league’s number one offense, and as Minato explained to you during your time working in this job, an offensive team isn’t good at scoring goals, but rather exceptional at breaking down the other team’s defense.

Your eyes zero in on Geto, who stands in the center of the field for kickoff, and he’s huffing and puffing. He's the lead of defense for the team, and you can only imagine the level of pressure he feels right now. He glances around to his players, over to Nanami who seemed to share the same level of exhaustion, and then he glances towards Gojo who stood in front of him off to the right. Except you notice that Gojo looks relaxed, albeit still exhausted, but there’s a composed expression on his face even in the moment of heightened stakes. With locked eyes, Geto nods at Gojo and raises two fingers up into the air to signal a play, of which Gojo seems to respond to by closing more distance between him and the goal post prior to the kickoff, positioning himself almost directly in front of it, to which YCU’s defense immediately begin to guard him in a tight radius. 

The kickoff begins, with Geto making a few passbacks with Nanami as they close distance towards the field before passing it off to UTokyo’s string of offense and then receding back to their defending goal. UTokyo continues to close distance, raising stakes for YCU as their defense begins to falter under pressure, and the ball gets passed to Gojo, who only keeps it in possession for less than three seconds before he passes it back to Yuuji, a risky decision to make in the second half of a semifinal match, but the first-year swiftly unleashes a powerful shot that rockets past YCU’s goalkeeper, up towards the corner, except–

It bounces off the metal of the goal post, shot off with projectile speed back towards the center of the field, but with razor-sharp reflexes, Gojo headbutts the ball in air, twists his torso and strikes the ball with his foot past a dumbfounded goalie who can’t even move an inch to guard the ball that he already knew was going to sink right into the goal, and that’s exactly what it does. 

The stadium erupts with the momentum.

4-3, UTokyo. 

It was a sweet moment, one you manage to capture on camera of Gojo running up to Yuuji and ruffling his hair in reassurance, despite the missed goal. Your heart feels warm in your chest, feeling your own sense of melancholy that this was one of the last times they’ll ever get to play together on a team. 

Your eyes widen when you glance at the scoreboard, realizing that he’s tied. Gojo is tied for the most goals scored during a championship match. There were less than three minutes left on the clock. UTokyo either preserves their lead, or they risk moving into overtime, which, judging by the exhaustion on the UTokyo players’ faces in the wake of YCU’s relentless offense this entire game, moving into overtime would be a hefty, hefty risk. 

YCU’s center forward takes his place in the center of the field, fire evident in his eyes as he glances across the field. YCU are light on their feet, channeling everything in their bodies into these last moments of the game as they prepare to start the kickoff. You glance across UTokyo’s players, and although they look spent, there was a resolute look to all of them. It wasn’t the time to give up or feel at ease even near the end of this grueling battle. Now was the time to play. 

The referee chirped his whistle, and the kickoff began.

YCU immediately presses hard, as all their other plays have been all game, in their desperation to score. You can already see UTokyo’s midfielders move sluggishly in comparison to YCU’s offense, a drag to their feet as YCU pushes past the first layer of defense towards their attacking goal. Geto takes an aggressive approach, making moves to steal the ball while Nanami and Yuta guarded both flanks, and there was a relentless pass-off happening that ate up more than a minute of the remaining time.

Nanami succeeds in stealing the ball, but immediately loses it under his feet by a YCU midfielder, who makes a broad pass down the sidelines to YCU’s star forward who then powerfully kicks the ball towards the unguarded area of their goal, a dangerous shot that was clear towards the crossbar and Choso makes a leap for it, high into the air, his glove brushing against the ball, the entire crowd holding their breath in anticipation–

And the ball lands in the net. 

4-4, tied game. With one minute and seventeen seconds left on the clock. 

There was no time wasted in getting back to center field. No time spent dwelling in the horrific roars of the crowd as they watch with anxiety and fear. No time spent to process or consider or signal any plays. Not even a single second used to catch breath. When there is this much at stake, an athlete thrives on momentum. 

To your surprise, Gojo isn’t the one that takes place at the center of the field to start the kickoff. Yuta stands there instead, and you notice his eyes are erratic as he surveys all corners of the field. 

The referee chirps his whistle. 

Yuta immediately passes it off to the side to UTokyo’s midfielder, who curls it towards their attacking goal with a swift pass to Ino, who closes distance towards the goal, but one of YCU’s defender slips in, undoing any progress they had made in their offense by stealing the ball and sending it back towards mid-field. Forty-three seconds. The crowd’s roars heightened as YCU continued to push forward, thirty yards now from scoring, and UTokyo’s defense was desperate to stop them but their momentum was cracking in the wake of their exhaustion. 

It was a moment you don’t think you could ever fully or truly recall, one that you wish you had focused all your energy and attention to so that you could commit it to memory for the rest of your life. The image of Gojo pushing all the way to ten yards before their defending goal, a place where no center forward should really be at in a game like this, but it was exactly what their defense needed. It was exactly what the team needed. It was exactly what the school needed. For the ball to be in his possession.

With twenty-two seconds left on the clock, he steals the ball from right under YCU’s offensive feet, and then charges towards the opposite side of the field. The crowd rises to their feet, thunderous roaring that overtook any and all senses, as Gojo weaves through forwards, center forwards, midfielders, and defenders, covering the entire span of the field in lightning time. Fifty yards, forty yards, thirty yards, twenty hards, ten yards–

In a moment you couldn’t believe, he digs his foot underneath the ball, and sends it flying out towards the goal. There was not even a margin of an inch in which it slipped past the goalie’s hands, past his head, and swiftly flew right into the net.

With three-two-one seconds, the match was over. 

5-4, UTokyo’s win.

The final whistle blew, and for a moment, there was silence. As if the world paused to catch its breath. Then, all at once, the crowd erupted with glee that shook the entire stadium at its core. Flags waving, scarves held high, toasts of beer held up to the sky, it was deafening, and it almost makes you want to cry. Thousands of voices shouting in unison, celebrating the hard-fought victory of their school’s team. A type of pride that was fostered, and well-deserved, and long-lived.

You quickly glance towards the field again, and see Gojo standing right at the same spot where he had kicked the last and final goal, staring towards the net. You can’t see the expression on his face, but it surprises you how still he is. Like a statue, staring at the goal with the ball tucked into its corner. The very epitome of what it means to succeed in this sport was right in front of him, and it seemed like he wanted to soak the visual in for as long as he could.

His trance is abruptly interrupted when his teammates swarm in, rushing over like a wave of pure adrenaline. They slap him on the back, ruffle his hair, shout his name, the sounds of gleeful disbelief mixed with exhausted sighs of relief swarming into the air. And Gojo finally melts away from the tension of the match and into the celebration as he weakly returns the embraces of his teammates while he catches his breath. 

“IT’S OFFICIAL!! IT’S OFFICIAL!! UTOKYO’S VERY OWN GOJO SATORU HAS OBLITERATED OSAKA UNIVERSITY’S RECORD FOR MOST GOALS SCORED BY A SINGLE PLAYER IN A CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH!!” 

The speakers are blaring the voices of the sports announcers, along with ambient music to match the intensity of the match that everyone had just witnessed. 

You should probably be doing your job. You know, take a picture of the huddle of players on the field as they bask in the glory of a close victory, but instead your feet start moving on their own. Like a magnet drawn to him, you make your way towards Gojo, only a slight hesitation in your step as you stop about ten feet away, suddenly unsure. But when he makes eye contact with you, all that fear melts away.

He hastily pats the backs of some of his teammates, acknowledging their praise at the center of the huddle before tightly squeezing past them to make his way over to you. Your heart is beating fast in your chest, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of pride in your school’s team, but more importantly, in him. What was the acceptable thing to do? Run to him, into his arms, and hug him while he twirls you around? Tackle him to the grassy ground? Kiss him like your life depended on it? You have no clue what the acceptable or sane or normal thing to do is. But he’s made his decision for you when he walks right up to you, his hands holding your waist as he pulls you towards him. He smells earthy, of grass and salt and sweat and of all the hard work he poured into today, the wear and tear of the game evident in the wear and tear of his jersey. He only manages to huff out an exhale at the sight of you, like some relief washing over him just by looking into your eyes. Forget the fact that the crowd was all watching and that all of the screens you could see past his head were focused on the two of you, because all you could hear or see or think was him.

“I believe you owe me a kiss,” he says, huffing as he catches his breath but that doesn’t stop the smile that makes its way onto his face.

You nod your head, giving him your own version of a sweet smile as your arms slide up past his shoulders, crossing behind his neck, and he leans down to kiss you.

You hear a swell from the crowd, some teasing comments off in the distance from some of his teammates, you’re pretty sure you hear Coach Yaga yelling at him to get back to the benches, but it all melts away with the feeling of him smiling against your lips as he kisses you at the center of this stadium.

It was a moment so pure, so sweet, so picture perfect, and for once, you’re not the one behind the camera taking the photo. You’re the one that’s in it.

.

.

.

.

.

[end of kickoff ch12]

a/n. aaa thanks a lot for reading!! pls the fucking public stripping scene was so stupid i apologize on behalf of kickoff gojo for his behavior 😂😂 i’ll put him in his cage dw this chapter had some of what i consider to be the most challenging aspects of writing for me (internal conflict, grand public gesture, sports jargon) and so writing it felt like an uphill battle the ENTIRE time i wrote it and edited it. i considered scrapping it sooo many times cuz i just wasn't happy w it...but whatever i can't expect to be 100% happy w every chapter i put out there haha. i think kickoff has become a lil sacred for me since i've been working on it for a while now but likeee...sometimes u just gotta say fuck it we ball (tbh kickoff gojo probably says that to himself before a match) anywho, i am veryy thoroughly excited for what i've got planned for the chapters to follow, especially moving into the last angsty arc before the end of the series!! so i look forward to picking up momentum w this series again :0 honestly chapters 10 through 12 were the most difficult things i've written so far for a lot of reasons, but i have a feeling things will go more smoothly for me creatively going forward since what i've got planned falls well within my writing comfort range oh also there seems to be a little confusion about the number of chapters left, as i know i had originally said 12, but i anticipate that there will be about 18 chapters of kickoff total!! so still around six chapters left before the end :)) much lovee thanks for reading!!

OH WAIT ONE LAST NOTE I'M SORRY i didn’t really have a way of organically incorporating this into the story n i’m not sure if i’ll get a chance to in the upcoming chapters, so i just wanted to share this part of ch7 (gojo’s pov chapter) that is relevant to this chapter:

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant. 

the record that gojo broke in this chapter is the same record that his father almost broke before he got the call that he was going to be a dad :0 

➸ you're all caught up!

additional notes. please do not pressure me for updates or ask when i will next update (read rules); taglist is currently closed (consider subscribing to the story on my ao3 for email updates if you'd like! :0)

taglist:

@megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed

@wynney @delulux3 @higurumapet @zombriesworld @xenop0p

@phoenix-eclipses @who-can-touch-my-boob @mo0nforme @reagan707 @lost-resonance

@foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @beabadobeee @thexmistress

@tsukikourito @pickuptruck01 @gabriiiiiiii @4y3sh4 @tiredflame132

@cliosunshine @btszn @izayas-rings @semra4 @ethereally-lyann

@drthymby @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010

@joemama-2 @horisdope @banenemilk @nanasukii28 @spindyl

@ri-sa20 @thexmistress @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @sashisuslover

@chwesuh-imnida @megumisthirdog @imjustaweirdnerd @angelicscribe

[taglist is closed]

[bunnis-monsters]

random question abt the bee hybrids but I am actually very curious abt this,,, since some of the queens sons (I mean, there's gotta be A LOT of them right??) wouldn't move out/mate with another queen so they decide to stay with their mom in their own hive. Is there a possibility that some of them would want breed with her?? I mean, the other bees would probably grow old over time so they'd need some younger more fertile males... Would it be possible that they'd breed with their mom?

Getting this question pretty soon after that drama is pretty funny, but fuck I’ll answer it!

In my bee hybrids universe, all of the queen’s children feel platonic love for their mom! If they decide to stay they become your attendants and take care of you, along with keeping you informed of things going on in the hive.

They also become high ranking generals, or work in the high council.

But most of your sons are traded to other hives. In return you receive new bee hybrids that you can mate with. Your sons then also spy on the other hives and report back to you. They’re sneaky, and always make sure that no one is planning to hurt their mama!

Your daughters go off to make their own hives. They’re just as affectionate with their mom, and often want to ditch their queenly duties to go and see you. All they wanna do is snuggle with their chubby mama and get kisses and hugs!

Because of this, you are required to visit your daughters once a month so they continue to properly care for their hive.

There are some hives that are old and outdated, that don’t accept new bees in and only mate with each other. They’re seen as immoral, and ostracized from the meetings of all the local hives.

Most of the bees there are sickly and don’t live for very long. Their queen is selfish, and your hive has taken in a few escapees. They usually still don’t live for very long, but the doctors and medical staff try their best to comfort them and keep them comfortable for the rest of their days.

Your hive is one of the kinder ones. You accept any newcomers and treat them as your own. After quarantine they’re free to join the hive and work and breed like any other bee hybrid would.

Also for future reference, I don’t write incest. It’s in my request info.

[rafecameronssl4t]

The weight of expectations || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: I know you guys wanted more soft moments between Rafe and reader in this au so here you go!!!

Warnings: nothing!

Word count: 1,532

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The dimly lit office in the Cameron building had always carried an air of prestige, a reminder of the empire Ward Cameron had built with his own hands. But now, Rafe sat behind the polished mahogany desk, feeling the weight of that legacy pressing down on his shoulders.

His reflection in the window—sharp suit, tired eyes, jaw clenched—was one of a man constantly battling his own demons. Rafe’s phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. The meeting with Mr. Cartwright was scheduled for five minutes ago, but knowing Cartwright, he would make him wait a little longer just to make a point.

Rafe’s lip twitched in annoyance. This was supposed to be simple—sign the deal, deliver, and collect the reward. But like everything in his life lately, nothing was as easy as it seemed. As if on cue, the heavy doors creaked open, and Mr. Cartwright strode in, his presence filling the room with the unmistakable arrogance of someone who thought he could toy with the Camerons.

Rafe hated men like him. Cartwright was older, maybe late forties, with graying hair slicked back and a suit so tailored it made a statement by itself. Still, Cartwright had power, and Rafe knew they needed him for this deal. Rafe’s eyes narrowed, but he stood, gesturing to the chair across from him. “You’re late.”

Cartwright smirked, unbothered. “You’ve got nothing but time, Cameron.” Rafe resisted the urge to slam his fist on the table. The conversation turned cold quickly, escalating from subtle jabs to outright confrontation as Cartwright slammed his hand on the desk. “This wasn’t the outcome we agreed on, Cameron. I expected the deal to be completed two weeks ago.”

Rafe gritted his teeth, leaning back in his chair, trying to play it cool. Cartwright was testing him, seeing if Rafe would break under pressure. “Things take time, Cartwright. We’re working on it. You can’t expect a project this size to wrap up overnight.” But Cartwright wasn’t having it.

“I expected results, not excuses. I trusted your family’s name—your father’s name—when I signed on to this. Now, you’re telling me I just need to ‘wait’? My investors don’t have time for your delays.” Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “I think you forget I was my father’s protégé, and now I’m handling the business. You underestimate me.”

“I don’t care what your investors think. The timelines shifted, and there’s nothing anyone can do about that. We’ll deliver, but on our schedule, not yours.” Mr. Cartwright slams his hand down on the table, eyes narrowing. “Your schedule is putting my reputation on the line. I’m not some small-time client you can string along. My name holds weight, and if your company can’t keep up, I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

Rafe’s eyes flicker with irritation, but he maintains his composure, though his tone becomes icier. “You’re not going anywhere, and we both know that.” He leans forward, his stare sharp. “You’ve invested too much in this project to pull out now. So let’s stop pretending you have the upper hand here.”

Mr. Cartwright scoffs, clearly insulted. “Your father knew how to handle his business. You, on the other hand, seem more interested in playing house with your perfect little wife and children than focusing on the deals that matter.” The mention of you brought heat rising to Rafe’s face.

His jaw clenched as he fought to control his temper. The comment hit too close to home. Cartwright had no idea what his marriage was like, the public façade they upheld, the tangled mess of feelings that simmered beneath the surface. “Mention my wife again, and you’ll regret it,” Rafe spat, his voice low and dangerous.

Cartwright just smirked. “Touchy subject, huh? Maybe if you focused on the business instead of her, this deal wouldn’t be falling apart.” That did it. Rafe was out of his chair, leaning over the desk, his eyes flashing with barely controlled rage. “You don’t get to talk about her. You signed the contract. You’ll get what we promised, but on our terms.”

“If you’re too much of a coward to stick it out, then fine—walk away. But you’re not going to find anyone better than me in this industry, and you know it.” The room was tense, their stares locked in a silent battle of wills. Cartwright didn’t budge. Instead, he straightened his suit jacket, his mouth set in a hard line.

“I’ll give you one month, Cameron. If this doesn’t turn around by then, I’ll make sure everyone knows how your family is crumbling—starting with you. Rafe forced himself to relax, stepping back from the desk, his smirk returning, though there was no warmth behind it. “One month. You’ll get your results. But you don’t scare me, Cartwright. Cross me, and you’ll regret it.”

With one final glance, Cartwright turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, leaving Rafe standing alone, the weight of the confrontation settling over him. He ran a hand through his hair, muttering a string of curses under his breath.

~

It was nearing 8 p.m. when Rafe pulled into the driveway, his mind still buzzing from the heated argument with Cartwright. He had no doubt he could deliver on the deal—he always found a way. But tonight, Cartwright’s words had gotten under his skin in a way that lingered, like a dull throb at the back of his mind.

The quiet of the house was almost unsettling as he stepped inside, the weight of the day’s events hanging heavily on his shoulders. Making his way upstairs, Rafe entered the bedroom, immediately spotting you on the bed, nursing Leo. Your eyes were closed, head leaned back against the headboard, one hand gently patting Leo’s back as he fed contentedly.

Rafe sighed, running a hand over his face, feeling the tension in his body slowly begin to ease. As complicated as things were between you, there was an undeniable comfort in your presence—an unspoken understanding that neither of you acknowledged but both felt. Rafe quietly crossed the room, his gaze softening as he approached.

Leo’s wide eyes met his, curious and bright. Rafe couldn’t help but smile, reaching out to gently stroke his son’s cheek. Leo’s tiny hand immediately grasped Rafe’s finger, holding on tight. A warmth spread through Rafe’s chest, and for a moment, the stress of the day melted away. His eyes shifted back to you.

Your breathing was calm, features relaxed in a way that made you look at peace, despite everything swirling around your lives. There was something soothing about the scene in front of him—something grounding. Leo’s eyes never left Rafe, watching his father with that same innocent curiosity. “Tough day?” Your voice, soft but alert, broke the silence.

Rafe’s gaze snapped up, meeting your half-lidded eyes as you watched him, though you hadn’t moved. He straightened, clearing his throat as he walked to the dresser, his back turned to you. “Just another asshole trying to tell me how to run my business,” he muttered, slipping off his watch and setting it down with more force than necessary.

“Cartwright’s testing me,” Rafe continued, running a hand through his hair before heading turned back around, leaning against the dresser. “Thinks I’m not my father.” Your gaze softened as you watched him. “You’re not your father, Rafe. And that’s not a bad thing.”

His blue eyes searched yours, trying to figure out if you truly meant it. There was a sincerity there, a quiet support that he wasn’t used to. It disarmed him for a moment, making him pause as he watched you with a curiosity that mirrored his son’s. The way you moved so naturally—so gracefully—as you gently lifted Leo and placed him in his bassinet beside the bed was a sight he found himself quietly admiring.

A soft sigh left your lips as you tucked him in, smoothing the blankets before slipping back beneath the sheets. You glanced up at him, still leaning against the dresser, lost in thought. “Are you going to get ready for bed?” you asked, your voice soft but carrying that calm tone you always seemed to have when it came to him.

There was no pressure, just a simple question, but it tugged at something deeper within Rafe. He cleared his throat, standing up a little straighter. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he muttered, his voice low as he turned back to the dresser, his fingers absently fiddling with the cufflinks on his shirt.

But he didn’t move right away. Instead, he stood there for a moment longer, watching you settle into the bed, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around him like a comfort he hadn’t realised he needed. Despite the chaos that always seemed to swirl around them—around him—there was a strange sense of peace in this room, in this space they shared.

Even if it wasn’t always easy, even if things between them were complicated, there was something grounding in the quiet moments like these. And as much as Rafe hated to admit it, those moments were starting to mean more to him than he had ever expected.

[defmaybe]

J’adore

5.2k words

aespa’s Yoo Jimin/Karina x Male Reader

Prequel to Not Shy

A/N: Kind of extension to Not Shy! Also, this is my last sprint before the midterms lol, I’ll be back after that and try to write something good. Kinda rough bc there’s no beta-reading lol. Thanks for reading as always!!!

Spring

“You? A student council member?”

“It’s just the treasurer!”

It’s the easiest position, according to your seniors, which seems to be much, much more credible sources than Kai, the friend you got caught in a debate with.

“Just the treasurer. Mate, have you seen the lads from last year? I swear that one of them almost died.”

“I have to build my portfolio, man. You even have your dance club!” You retort, trying to grasp on something.

“Well, it’s because I like to dance.” Kai says in a mocking tone. He doesn't mean to be condescending, of course. He’s your best friend, after all. “Do you like to work with Excel?”

“I mean–”

“Board games? No, too nerdy. Cheerleader? No, too demanding. And then you fucking jumped onto the student council? I swear, man, you definitely have some kind of death wish,” he says.

You sigh, surrendering to his points. Still, you're too deep in the application process to turn back now. You look back at your phone, seeing all the completed questions in the form.

“I’m not leaving you behind, still,” Kai says, patting your back. “I’ll give you caffeine when you need it.”

Do you think you’re qualified to be a student council member?

Yes.

“I’m sending it now.”

“Good luck.”

Submit

Thank you for your submission. We will announce our selection by May 1st.

—

Summer

Maybe it was how the last year’s council members turned out to be. You were the only one who applied for the treasurer's position. Hell, even the other ones aren’t any more popular either. There was no one in the head of first aid, and they had to roll out another round of applications for that.

The fresh faces of the new student council members are all standing inside this meeting room—so determined, so passionate. Their chatters fill the room up with life.

You glance around the room. You’re familiar with some of them, walk-pasts in the hallways, sitting-fars in the classes, until one woman catches your eye.

Yoo Jimin, you’ve heard that she beat the second place applicant for president by quite a margin. Her confidence is probably what makes her so alluring to the students. Also, her face, fuck, her face, she’s the fucking epitome of perfection.

Maybe it’s the way you stare at her for just a little too long; she starts to walk towards you, and that’s when you fell into her trap for the first time.

She stops just a step away, offering you a handshake—firm, assured.

“Yoo Jimin,” she declares—stern, expressionless.

“Pleasure to meet you, Jimin.” You accept her grip, lips curling inward, letting out a minuscule smile—relaxed, reserved.

“We’ll be working together for the next year. I’m looking forward to it.” She keeps it professional in the expression she makes. There’s nothing to be made of it, except for the fact that she’s very reticent with her face.

You force out another small smile. “I’m also looking forward to it, Jimin.”

—

“Areas! I need two tables and four chairs. Parcels, get your equipment ready.”

The first meeting between the freshmen and their seniors is always the hardest to perfect. There’s the idea that the first impression defines the future of the relationship between the two. So, here you are, in your faculty’s First Meet event. You’re lucky that they let you use the air conditioners on the d-day. Those fucking run-throughs got you all melted.

You have little work to do today, having managed the proposals and preparing to do the post-production stuff. So, you’re at the core team’s table, playing whatever your old laptop can handle, until—

“Are you free?”

You look up from your screen to see the angelic figure that is Yoo Jimin standing in front of you, towering you with ease with you sitting in your seat.

“Uh–,” you can only let out a hesitation.

“I guess you’re—” she bends over the desk to see the gaming screen, before letting out a small laugh. “—free?”

“Y–Yes, Jimin.” A slight view of her cleavage can be seen with her posture, and you have to do your best to find something else to look at.

“Good. Can you help us carry a few tables?”

You look at your frail arms—should’ve done some more work at the gym. “If you want me to tear my biceps.”

Jimin chuckles, before closing on your ear, left hand pressing on your right thigh, “Don’t worry that you wouldn’t be able to jerk off, treasurer. I can do it for you.”

You freeze, not believing the words coming out of her mouth. Did she just say that? Such lewd words?

Jimin, sensing your tensed up body, pulls back from you and laughs. “Oh my god, look at you. I was just fucking with you!”

“Good grief, Jimin. You could’ve killed me,” you huff.

She shoots back a beam. “Come on, let’s get to work.”

—

Fall

The clicking sound of your keyboard and the scratches of the bills you’re arranging permeates the room this evening. Jimin is sitting on the other side of the trash-ridden table—stationeries, snack wraps—eyes unfocused as she swipes one short video after another. Her thoughts seem to be elsewhere now. Dinner? Bed? Someone? You’ll never know.

“Fucking hell, this bitch again,” she mutters under her breath, which you catch. You look up from the budget plan you’re working on, meeting her eyes.

“Sorry, Tinder stuff.”

You return her a tiny smile before going back to inputting the bills. Still, you can hear Jimin’s tossing and turning in her chair as she seems to type something into her phone, before smashing her thumb on the right side of its poor screen. You can’t help but let out a chuckle, one that she catches.

“Yeah, it’s pathetic, isn’t it?” Jimin rhetorizes, placing her phone on the table. “A student president that just can’t find any partner.”

You shrug, still typing, “Well, the work is gruelling.” And she chuckles at your statement.

“Yeah, I guess so. But it’s just, how to explain?” She furrows her eyebrows, tapping her chin to seek the right word in the air, before coming to an answer. “I just can’t find the right person, you know? Half of the line is gone once I show any bit of confidence, and the other half are, well, clingy ass bitches.”

You smile back at her, trying to give her some solace in solitude. “I’m sure you’ll find the right person soon, Jimin. You like–have the whole faculty in your hands.”

She gives you a weak smile. “You always have pleasant words for everyone, treasurer.”

You smile back before returning to your accounting work, unbeknownst to the light bulb brightening up inside her head.

“So, how’s your love life?” She asks, rising from the other side. She leans forward ever so slightly, hands supporting her frame on the white table, slightly revealing the valley of her breasts.

You break yourself from the laptop, once again, meeting her cleavage in your line of sight for a split second. It’s magnetic, but you’re able to resist it, for now.

“Hmm?”

“I mean… you don’t seem to be an awful choice for women, or men, judging from… how many months?”

“Four,” and you gulp.

“Yeah, four months with you, my treasurer. But I’ve never quite caught you being involved in anything,”—she stands up straight, before slowly striding towards your seat, hips swaying at each nifty step—“romantic.”

You clench your eyes ever so tightly at her alluring motion—the swaying hips, the crossing steps—as if there’s anything to examine but her burning lust. “Well, Jimin, I don’t think the passive mid-table guys get much,” you state.

“Is that so? Because you don’t seem to belong at the mid-table.” The distance between you two is shrinking, slowly. And with a few more small steps, you find her towering over you, chest basking in front of your face.

Jimin bends down slowly, revealing just a slight sight of her gorgeous cleavage. The poor crop top is struggling to hold her supple flesh within, even with the workshop shirt helping. You shift just slightly in your seat.

Your eyes are doing their best to resist the magnetic force, but her big brown eyes aren't a sanctuary, either.

“Thanks, miss president.”

Her Dior J’adore is enrapturing you.

“You know, I notice the perfume you wear every day, even if it’s just CK One.” She forces sultry into her perceptive words, and to say, it works. She drags her right middle finger along the length of your arm, lighting a fire in its trail.

You try to keep your composure; it works, for now. She doesn’t seem to notice the sweat hanging off your forehead yet.

“Or how you dress so damn well to class, even if it’s some fuckass subject,” Jimin continues, tracing her hands up to your forearm now.

Your breath hitches, and you can just connect the dots so easily.

“W–Why me, though, Jimin?”

“Oh, clever boy, I just need the real thing, that’s all,” she coos. Her digits are playing with the line of your collarbones now. 

“See, I’m just so fucking sick of my—well, what’s the word, devices. They’re pleasurable, sure, but unlike a real person, which in this case—is you—” Her hand grabs your chin from behind, and you can’t find any resistance. Her sonic reduces into a sensual whisper into your ear. “—they lack warmth.”

“S–So, do you want to have—”

“Sex? Yes, I want you inside me, baby. I want you body clashing against mine, while you moan my name like you’re some common whore.”

It’s haywire, your mind. You are lost in her—her voice, her face, her body, everything that’s about Jimin. Is she really inviting you to have sex with her? Is this interaction even real?

“So, what do you say, wanna go somewhere after this? Somewhere—small, somewhere—private.” Her voice dives into a whisper beside your ear, and you can feel a smile forming beside it. “I’m sure you can work on your bills—anywhere.”

You stare forward, trying to look unfazed to cover your crumbling composure.

“I–I can work on the bills anywhere, Jimin.” Your voice betrays you.

She gives a quiet laugh, “Good to know, treasurer,” before lightly grabbing your chin, with her index and middle finger resting on your lips. Are they seeking silence or entry?

Slowly, they push your upper lip ever so slightly, eliciting a whimper from you. Fuck, is she trying to—

“You know what to do, baby.”

Rejection.

Hesitation.

Submission.

You open your mouth for her—now courtesy of Yoo Jimin. You take in her fingers. They’re cold from the air conditioner. Bite. Lick. Swallow. You close your eyes while doing so, absorbing her taste with your tongue. You feel you’re under her control—so submissive. It’s ecstatic.

“God, do you like being called a whore? Because you’re acting like one right now,” Jimin asks.

You profusely nod at her statement, continuing to suck on her fingers.

“Then keep doing it, whore.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you can hear her giggle. And as your vision comes back to her, the free hand is rubbing against her clothed core now. Mewling sounds can be heard.

“God, keep sucking it, baby. I’ve never cummed as fast as this before.”

“Ngh.” And you keep sucking her fingers.

A sound of the door stops you in your tracks though.

“Guys, I need a few chairs–am I interrupting something?”

Ning Yizhuo, head of student welfare, barges into the room. She stares straight at you two. Good thing Jimin pulls her digits out and puts them behind her back before Yizhuo’s eyes catch sight of you glistening on her, leaving you stranded in your burning desire for your president.

Maybe it’s the way your eyes are still fluttering. Maybe it’s the way your mouth ever so slightly hangs open. Maybe it’s your quick breaths.

Yizhuo wants to know what’s up.

“We’re just–” Jimin tries to find the right word in your eyes. Her blinks are rapid. She’s concerned. She’s afraid.

“You’re–what?” Yizhuo isn’t a patient figure. She’s trying to gauge something out of Karina.

“I–I’m adjusting his posture! O–Our dear treasurer has a bad sitting posture and–”

“Cut the shit, Jimin. What the fuck did you guys do?”

“S–See, he’s sitting a lot, you know? B–Bills. Accounting. Excel stuff.” Jimin’s brows hint at the concern within her chuckle. She pushes the middle of your back to set you straight up. As you follow her move, Yizhuo clenches her eyes.

“Just get me some chairs and don’t fuck inside this room.”

—

Jimin swings her door open, and as expected, every single bit of it is immaculately kept clean. There’s not a single piece of trash on the floor of her white room; the table is meticulously arranged; the bed is folded. There’s a Meteora vinyl placed on her shelf. God, what a tasteful woman.

“Drop your bag.”

You comply as she also does so.

And she immediately pounces on your body, consuming your taste and scent at your nape. Her lips are wet, sending shocks through your pliant frame.

“Mmph, keep this perfume, baby. I just wanna have this scent of you every day.”

It’s CK One.

She plants her kisses along your neck—standing up straight—ever so determined to make you hers. Her hands lock your shifting, shaking body in place, despite being so eager to feel every inch of you—up and down.

“So—pliant, so—submissive,” she whispers.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you deflect, trying to have a hold of the battle. There’s a glint of brattiness inside you that wants to resist her just a little, just before you give in.

“Is that so?” Jimin mewls, before pushing you onto the bed.

“I’m not letting you have me that easily, miss president,” you say with your back against her soft cushion. Jimin is straddling her lean, lengthy legs over yours. She looks so damn tall from this view—you lying beneath her.

“Sucking my fingers, then decide to be a bratty bitch right now—” She lightly taps the tip of your nose, also scrunching hers. “—I like that.”

You say nothing, giving her just a wink from below.

“Oh, baby, I’ll have you scream my name so many times.”

“Fucking make me then.”

And fires ignite in her eyes.

She dives onto your left ear—nibbling, biting, swallowing, whatever she can do with her mouth without tearing your auricle off. Her deep moans send suppressed shudders through your neurons.

Jimin spreads saliva all over your ear, no sign of relenting. Slurping sounds of her flesh ring in your head. She plants each lick with purpose, and it sends jolts and jolts through your body. Still, you’re far from falling apart—tethered on the ground.

“Tsk, i–is this the best y–you can do?”

“Oh, baby, you’re already stuttering? I can do more if you want~,” she tastefully threatens. Then, she brings her right hand into play, tilting your chin up. Your mouth is right beside her neck. The pale smoothness of her skin is presented in front of you, and you just can’t help but—

“F–Fuck!” Jimin yells, clearly enraptured with the swipes of tongue you are giving her. Still, she keeps spreading her saliva on your ear as if it’s hers (it’s hers).

“Oh, b–baby boy, maybe you can use your t–tongue on other things instead,” she whines.

“Your cunt?” You keep stretching your tongue onto her nape, getting a taste of her sweat.

She pulls back from you, robbing the sensations away from your throat. “Clever, now just lie like this. I’m riding your pretty face.”

Jimin then takes off her purple lace panties, giving you a hint of her wet cunt—unshaved—as she lifts her leg, before stuffing the garment onto your nose. Fuck, her musk is so intense; you can just die happily right here.

“You just love it, don’t you?”

You sheepishly nod, pressing her panties against your nose even tighter, eliciting laughs from her sinful mouth.

“I think that’s enough, baby. I wanna fuck your face now,” she says, before tossing away the filthy garment.

Jimin then moves forward on her knees, bringing her heat closer and closer to your face. God, the fact that she’s unshaved only brings you higher. You need to slurp her juice; you need it on your face, you–

“Ready?”

Her cunt is hovering above you now, she’s pulling her skirt up, letting you see her face for the last time before being buried under her.

You nod.

And she sinks onto your face.

The first contact is soft, so, so soft. You’re practically making out with pussy, as she shakes above you erratically. There isn’t much light, with her skirt darkening your vision of what’s around, but it’s like you’d complain. You’re eating your student president out in her room, and you’re doing it so, so well that it sends shivers through her body, again and again.

“Ngh, f–fuck!” Jimin shouts from above—the things you’d do to see her face right now, to see an effect you’re having on her.

You say nothing, just keep lapping up her folds enthusiastically. Her juice drips into your mouth—sweet.

Jimin starts to grind her hips, as the moans grow louder. She’s getting wetter, and you’re still happily drinking her sugary nectar—drunk with it.

“Ah, ah, y–you’re doing well, my treasurer.”

You give her a thumbs up. You keep licking her cunt as if your life is depending on it. She moans so loud; everyone on this floor is probably going to hear that, but you don’t care anymore. The only thing in your head right now is to please Jimin—only Yoo Jimin.

And you can feel her thighs tense, shaking with pleasure. She’s going to cum. Her moans grow more chaotic and shorter than they were.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, fuck!”

She cums hard, collapsing onto the bed, cunt still on your face, ass up in the air. Her core clenches and clenches on your face, and she just forgets to breathe as her hips convulse.

“No squirt today, huh?” you joke from below.

She snaps back into the situation she’s in, sneering, “Fuck off, don’t fucking play stupid with me, wh–whore.”

You laugh, “Alright, alright, let’s get to the main course, shall we?”

“Y–Yeah.”

Jimin lifts off from you, leaving a string of her lubricant between your lips and her cunt.

“God, that’s hot,” you just can’t help but say it.

She giggles, and you can now see the sweat forming on her forehead; there’s beauty in it.

You two, in a haste, discard all of your clothes until you’re left with nothing—just bare bodies on the bed together. You’re sitting opposite of her, expecting her to say something.

She looks ethereal under the room light. The messy hair, the perfect features, the bare body, they all combine into the epitome of perfection right in front of you. Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

“Can I suck your tits?” you mutter. Fuck reticence, you need her, now.

She chuckles. “Sure, but only if I’m on top of you.”

“You just have to find a way to dominate me, don’t you?” you huff.

“Don’t say it like you don’t like it, baby.” She caresses your cheeks, and you shiver at her touch.

You lie down, as she slowly eclipses the light above both of you. Her large breasts are hanging down so close to your face. And—

“F–Fuck!”

You latch your mouth on her right breast as if it’s innate, with your hand kneading on the other. She lets out empyrean moans that only makes you want to suck on them even more. God, you can do this all day.

And not wanting to wait anymore, she impales her cunt with your cock, and you can only moan into her tits. This sensation, it’s overwhelming. Her velvety walls are hugging you so, so tightly. It’s so warm. She’s warm.

“Fuck,” she groans, eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Your cock is so well-bent, baby. It’s hitting my g-spot so good.”

“T–Thanks, J–Jimin.” Your mind is so damn clouded by the pleasure that you can say nothing but her name right now.

And a crack starts to form when she moves—up and down. Her unshaved cunt dragging along your digit, emanating pleasure all over your body from the core.

“B–Babe, c–can you stop s–sucking my tits?” she pleads.

You pull yourself out of her mounds, as she’s still riding you like there’s no tomorrow, and you let out small moans at each contact. “W–What? Ngh.”

“I wanna kiss you.”

You freeze under her. She’s still motioning herself to squeeze the cum out of you, whimpering each time your cock hits the hilt. Is it a confession? Does she love—

“B–Babe,” she brings you back to the mortal world.

“Y–Yeah, kiss me.”

She invades your mouth as if it wasn’t already hers at the second she sits on your face. Your tongues intertwine in a quest to declare their feelings of their owners.

Your hands are still squeezing her breasts. It’s addictive. You press and press into her flesh just to feel her as much as you can. This might as well be the only body you want to have just to yourself, as you dedicate yours to her. Every curve, every contour, every limb, you want her; you want her to want you; you need her. This kiss, fuck, it’s doing wonders to you.

She’d be the one to break off from the kiss to pant above you, hips still smashing into yours in a perfect rhythm.

“W–Wanna go out with me?” she asks.

She’s desperate, all the Tinder dates, all the–

“Babe, I–I fucking know that it’s desperate, yes or no. Fuck those Tinder dates, fuck those guys and girls, I–I want to go out with you, t–treasurer,” she pants.

Maybe it’s her J’adore that’s permeating all over you. Maybe it’s the way your hips are clashing into each other. Maybe, just maybe, it’s the glint in her eyes.

But if you have to recall, it’d be the confidence she’s radiating in clashing your flesh together just right now.

You nod.

Jimin smiles, pulling you into another kiss. You swear it can tear you apart if you have to let this woman go—figuratively.

She pulls off, her breaths becoming shorter and shorter again. “C–Can you cum with me, baby?”

Again, you nod, smiling. It’s inside your loins, building up, building up. Your body tenses up beneath her, same as hers. It’s there. It’s there.

“Fuck, baby, breed me. I’m yours, just breed me, just–ugh!”

And her whole body freezes, juices flowing onto your crotch. Her face is contorted by the pleasure coursing through her. Again, she forgets to breathe, back arching. You don’t slow down, though. Your orgasm is coming too.

“B–Babe–ah!”

It breaks. You busy yourself inside her to the hilt. Just like her, you forget to breathe. You shoot spurts of your seed deep into her womb, intending to breed her as her wish. Your cock shakes inside her, as she moans at each twitch.

It subsides, eventually. The shots get softer and softer to the point the cum just dribbles off the tip of you now. Fuck, your juices even leak out of her cunt onto your crotch, mixed together.

���F–Fuck,” is all she can say, before collapsing onto you, chest pressed up against yours.

“The plan’s still up?”

“Yeah.”

And she slips to the side, embracing you from behind, as you two doze off in the nocturne.

—

“Can I use your toothbrush?”

A long drag of uncertainty comes from the outside. Sun has risen hours ago, yet you two are still in the drowsy state.

“Or do I have to kiss you again for the answer, Jimin?”

“Put your morning breath away from me!”

At least she’s quick with her riposte.

As you brush your teeth, naked, she saunters into the bathroom, still similarly bare from last night. Her breasts bounce ever so slightly with each step in the mirror. Despite the disheveled appearance, her natural beauty shines through the mess—a seraphic being, one might say.

“Ha, yeah, I know I’m pretty, baby,” she says. “People would kill to have a body like me.”

You finish your clean up, before saying, “You’re insufferable, you know?”

Jimin laughs, before giving you a quick peck on the cheek, emanating mellow all over your face. Fuck, you can feel the blood rushing to your erection now.

“You too, babe.” She smiles, before grabbing her mouthwash for a gargling.

Your cock, again, finds the condition to rise in front of this woman. It’s twitching, and you just have to turn back before she notices it.

Still, her sharp eyes find you, and she gives you a small slap on your bare ass, sending pleasure rushing through your body.

“Hey!” she growls with the mouthwash, before quickly disposing of it. “You’re fucking hard again?”

“I–I–I–uh–”

Jimin then presses herself up against your back, arms ever so tightly trapping you from behind in a hug. It’s warm. She’s warm.

“Let me, baby,” she whispers against your wobbling right ear. “I can’t have my co-workers’ needs go unsated.”

“F–Fucking hell.”

In one careful motion, Jimin slides her arms down to your erection, right hand grabbing the length. “Wouldn’t mind some respect from my baby boy~” Her grip and the languid, careful strokes make your legs wobble.

“Tsk, n–no fucking way, J–Jimin,” you muster any inhibition you have left to deflect.

“Well, then.” Jimin then tightens her hold on your cock, transpiring both pain and pleasure to you. “How about now?”

“Nghhhh, f–fuck,” you cry out, the contorted expression appears in the mirror.

“Just like that, baby, moan for me. Show me who owns you,” Jimin coos, loosening her hold a slight, still keeping the adagio tempo.

“Nnnh, J–Jimin.”

“Good boy, good boy,” she murmurs.

She drags her filthy hand up and down your cock so leisurely, finding the rhythm for your pliancy. She strokes and strokes to build you up to the second release with her, this time by her hand.

It feels like eternity—the way her unhurried digits find the pace that would make you want so much more, or how she whispers ‘good boy’ into your ear every time she wants a whiff of reassurance of control. It’s like she needs one, anyway, judging by how you’re moaning like a bitch right now.

“God, you’re making so much sound for me.” The way she swipes her index finger at the tip of your cock on each stroke, fuck, you can fall onto the floor right here and now. “Wanna see your face in the mirror, baby?”

You turn your head leftwards to find reflections of a contorted face and a grin side by side. Her hand is diligent as ever—building you up to your inevitable release.

“What do you say, baby? Wanna see our faces in the mirror?” she inquires again. You can feel a mischievous smile beside your ear.

“Ngnh, a–alright.”

With ease, she forces your body to turn into your image of the ball of lust—the shower of kisses on your neck; the hand sliding up and down your cock; the thigh pressing up against your ass. You shift and shift within her restraint, and that seems to only fuel her fire.

“Moan some more for me, baby. I wanna hear your voice. I want my men moaning.”

You comply, letting out a series of whimpers just for your student president. The sensation of her hand is so damn enthralling—each slide, each nick of a finger, each twist of her wrist, they are all designed to make you surrender to her.

“Good boy. Your moans are so pleasing to hear, you know that?”

“Nngh, t–thanks, Jimin.”

“Wanna up the ante, baby? I can do it faster~” As if her languid tempo isn’t already doing its job in trapping you inside her overflowing lust.

You hesitate, finding yourself wanting this act to go on to such lengths, maybe even when the sun sets again. Being under her comforting warmth is too satisfying.

“I–I don’t know, Jimin.”

“Oh, this baby can’t decide? Guess I’ll just have to–”

She suddenly lets go of your length, cutting your string of desire so easily. You whine, as Jimin lets out a laugh.

“Don’t!” you say in a rush, and letting go the hand you haven’t realized you’ve been holding—hers.

Jimin giggles. “Say please, baby.” She tightens her hug on you, squeezing the plea out.

Your eyes meet hers in the mirror.

“Please, Jimin.”

“Good boy.” And she wraps her hand around your erection again, casually stroking it.

“Ngh.”

The sound of her jerking your shaft fills the room. It’s heavenly—her voluptuous chest pressing up against your arching back with right hand busy sliding on your rod. She does it so cleanly—the technique, the pace. You swear you will cum by the second she whispers another ‘good boy’ into your welcoming ears.

As if she knows your inevitable release, she seeks a higher speed on your cock, stroking it with a swiftness that tries to draw out your moan and your cum as much as she can.

“Ngh, J–Jimin,” you whimper.

“Oh, gonna cum already, baby?” Jimin giggles at your crumble, before giving a peck on your left cheek. “Go on, cum for me. Cum, just like you did last night inside me.”

White spots start to form within your vision. Your breaths become more erratic. It’s there. It’s there.

“Jimin~”

And you explode all over her mirror, painting white streaks on it. You are left with ecstasy on your face as Jimin smiles at your release. Your body shrieks and shudders in her embrace. Your cock twitches in her hand, sending flying ropes of cum everywhere. Fuck.

“Yes, baby, just like that.” Her voice is deep—so seductive.

You continue to shake in her hold, not being able to subside from your high so quickly. Your release grows lighter and lighter in her hand, until it comes out in drops, finally letting you catch your breath.

“Good boy,” Jimin says, before forcing your body towards hers. You are spun around, and she gives you a kiss.

It’s short, but it’s powerful—no tongue fighting for dominance, no slurping sounds, just a kiss.

And she pulls back from it once she’s satisfied, judging from the smile on her face.

“Wanna do this again?” she asks.

“Definitely—well—maybe. You know Yizhuo would beat our asses if she catches us again, right?”

“Just shut up, babe. She won’t know if you’re good with secrets like me.”

You pout, bringing out a laugh from her.

Winter

“It’s going well, isn’t it?” Kai asks.

You give him a small smile. “It’s bearable, yeah.”

“Good to know, good to know.” He then takes a sip of his latte from his cup, looking outside.

“Fuck, I forgot to ask you this,” you say. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Oh yeah! In fact, there’s a woman I've been seeing recently, Yizhuo. You probably know her, right? You guys are working together,” Kai answers.

“Oh,” you utter. “Oh.”

He chuckles, before continuing, “Yeah, I know it’s weird–”

“No, no, not at all, bro,” you deflect with a chuckle along with him. “I’m happy that you’re happy.”

Kai, still chuckling, inquires, “How about you? It’s gotta be more than ‘bearable’ for you to be all happy like this.”

You give him a smile.

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: cute silly little gesture from drewseph 😋 progress progress

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven

authors note: this is just part 2 of day 2 so i’ll incorporate the movie night in the next part fs. let me know if u still want to be added to the tag list through replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

you’re awoken by the light coming in through the blinds. it’s subtle, but it’s there. it bothers you and causes you to stir awake.

you can hear drew snoring—a habit you know all too well, but you ignore it. your eyes flutter open as you look around the room, then you look at him.

he’s dead asleep, but he’s on his stomach, his face parallel to yours. his mouth is a little open and one of his arms is underneath his pillow, hoisting him slightly higher, while his other is reaching toward your side of the bed.

you yawn as you twist your body and grab your phone off the nightstand, then check the time. it’s already noon. the others must be up and awake by now.

you drop your phone on your lap and use that hand to shake drew awake gently, but when he doesn’t wake up the first time is when you get a little rougher.

“star,” you tell him, in hopes that he gets up at least now or soon. you don’t want either of you to miss any of the plans going on that day. “wake up, come on,” you say, and drew’s eyes open once before he closes them again, and his legs move underneath the blanket slowly. he’s waking up.

“mmh,” he moans, and because his eyes are closed you know that he’s trying to fall back asleep. you retract your arm and get up from the bed. you figure he’ll wake up anyway, he knows he has to.

you walk over to the door and open it, then peek your head out into the hall. you look around for anyone, but all you find is theo walking upstairs to his and leila’s room with two plates of food.

“hey,” you say, then pause to clear your throat. you’ve already caught theo’s attention. “what are we doing today?”

theo shakes his head, his mouth full of his piece of toast. “not today,” his words are difficult to understand so he drops the piece of toast on one of the plates. “tonight. leila has this checklist that’s guiding our everyday, and she said she’s been wanting to just stay in one night, relax, watch some movies. it’s gonna be chill, but it’s only that.”

you nod, patting the doorframe twice. “thank you,” you say, then pull back into your room as you add, “and good morning!”

“‘morning,” theo says, and you close the door gently.

when you turn around you see that drew’s awake. or at least he’s changed positions. he’s lying on his side now, facing you again. you watch him as you return to your side of the bed. he has to flip onto his other side again when you even leave his sight.

“free day until movie night tonight. leila’s orders,” you say, and there’s a small smile on his face before he rubs his eyes with his palm. you look around the bed for your phone with a frown, “could sleep in ‘til tonight if we wanted to.”

“we?” he asks, and it’s like he’s caught you already suggesting plans for the both of you.

“if i . . . wanted to,” you correct yourself, then pause for a moment while you rub the back of your neck, looking away. “libby did say she could help me with some audition tapes today though.”

drew groans, stuffing his head back into his pillow. “why are you working during the two weeks we’re supposed to do anything but that?” he whines, as if you’re dragging him along to do it too.

you shrug, “some people are expected to book their next role as soon as possible. now that tempest is over, i want to start working on my next big thing.”

“tempest was the next big thing, you won an mtv award for it,” drew reminds you.

you think back to your tv series that had went on for six years, a good chunk of your life, before it ended just recently with its final season. tempest is the reason why you met drew in the first place—he shared his praise for your lead role at one of his movie premieres years and years ago.

you shake your head at him. “okay,” you say, deciding to get up and out of bed.

“where are you going?”

“i’m not gonna work but i’m not just gonna lay around in bed all day,” you tell him, and you leave the room to freshen up in the bathroom.

you hear a few footsteps that descend the staircase and you can’t help but peer over your shoulder to see who it is. it’s oscar. you’re seated at the kitchen island, and he’s just minding his own business as he retrieves something from his backpack it seems like, then he looks to you.

he’s kind. there’s a genuine smile on his face as he nods his head at you. “good morning,” he says.

he turns to leave and you try to return it, “good morning.” you clear your throat as you continue to watch him head upstairs. from there, you can see someone walking across the hall, just from their feet.

you can recognize his patterned socks. it’s drew.

“hey!” leila’s voice is a jumpscare and you can’t help but react quickly, facing forward like you’re a child getting caught stealing candy. leila laughs when she realizes she scared you. “sorry . . . i thought you heard me come in. are you ready?”

you’re dressed to go out to town, as leila said earlier that she wanted to visit the local market nearby. you nod your head at her and shuffle off of the chair.

“who’s driving?” drew asks as he jogs down the stairs and pulls his crewneck over his head. you barely cast a glance at his body before you look into his eyes, and he walks over. “am i?”

“yes—” leila tries to say before you cut in.

“you’re coming with us?” you ask. you don’t necessarily have a problem with it, it’s just why was it kept from you?

“problem?”

“i don’t know. is there one?” you furrow your eyebrows at him and tilt your head to the side, but you realize the way you’re talking to him.

he squints his eyes at you in question, then glances up at leila. he’s not sure whether you're teasing him or not, but he lets out a short, awkward laugh. “okay, let’s not get dramatic,” he says lightly.

leila, sensing the unease, smiles as she steps in. “i figured we could all go together! it’s a trio outing now! plus, you two are joined at the hip anyway.” she says it like it's the most natural thing, blissfully unaware of how the statement lands between you and drew.

you swallow the discomfort and force a smile as you get off the chair, grabbing your bag. drew’s eyes linger on you for a moment before he turns and follows you both out the door.

“careful,” he warns you about your blatant attitude.

you know he’s right, and you mutter out, “sorry.”

the car hums as you’re driven down to the beach market, then get out to enter. it’s not a huge deal being seen out in public together—you’ve done this before. but of course it’s different now. there’s something strange about holding drew’s hand when you know, deep down, it’s all for show. but you don't pull away.

when you reach the town, you spot a few people recognizing you—actors always catch eyes, even in quieter towns like this one. drew stays close, his hand still gripping yours, a comfortable smile playing on his lips as the three of you wander around.

a couple of fans approach you, their faces lighting up at the sight of you and drew together. “oh my god, i loved you two in hellraiser! this feels like a dream," one of them gushes, and for a split second, you feel drew’s hand squeeze yours tighter.

you try to play it off, laughing softly as you and him pose for a quick picture with the younger girl.

after, drew steps beside you, leaning forward with his hands behind his back as a few record him. “we’re glad you enjoyed it,” he says, flashing his grin. you feel a familiar flutter in your stomach, a reminder of all those moments you used to share during press events like this.

another girl beams, and what seems like her mother is standing there with her, “you look even prettier in person! can we take another photo?”

“of course!” you laugh, and you part from drew to tend to the few of them.

drew is just standing a few feet away, his gaze locked on you. his expression is unreadable—something between admiration and something deeper, something heavier.

leila catches onto his lingering stare, and she approaches him with a smirk, nudging his arm. “you’re staring,” she teases, her tone light. drew blinks and breaks his gaze, glancing down at leila like he’s been caught.

“was not,” he mutters. his eyes flick back to you for a second, but he quickly looks away again.

leila’s inspecting a few trinkets before glancing back at him, a knowing look on her face. “you’re a terrible liar, you know,” she says. “you’re staring, and don’t think i didn’t notice at the firepit either.”

drew shifts uncomfortably, trying to find a way to defend himself. “okay, well yeah, because she’s my girlfriend!” he says a little too loud, and even you look up at him and furrow your eyebrows before returning to what you’re doing.

“okay, i’m joking. god, please lighten up. you can stare at your girlfriend all you want. who cares?” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “is everything good with you two?”

drew hesitates, glancing over at you as you smile politely at another fan. “yeah, everything’s fine,” he says, the words coming out too quickly. “why wouldn’t it be?”

leila narrows her eyes, watching him closely. “i don’t know, you’re acting a little . . . weird. normally, you’re more laid-back when she’s off and doing stuff on her own. but lately, you’ve been all . . . protective. intense, even.” she pauses, studying his face. “is something going on?”

he rubs the back of his neck. “no, we’re good. we’re good.”

leila hums, her fingers tracing one of the bracelets on a stall table. “you know, i talked to y/n last night,” she says carefully, her voice soft. “she said you guys have been stressed with work lately, but that everything’s good between you. still . . . i don’t know, something feels off. you both seem a little . . . distant.” she gives him a gentle nudge. “i’m not trying to pry, but i just want to make sure you’re okay. i already asked her, so now i’m asking you.”

drew stiffens slightly, but forces a small laugh, trying to brush it off. “yeah, work has been a lot lately. it’s probably just that—stress, you know? juggling schedules, auditions, appearances . . . it’s hard to get time for ourselves.”

“i get that. trust me, theo and i have been there too with our careers. it can get messy, but...” she trails off, giving him a sincere look. “you and y/n have always had something really special. and i know it’s not my business, but if something’s really bothering you—or her—you guys should talk it out. don’t let it fester.”

he shifts on his feet, the words striking closer than he’d like. he nods, though, appreciating her concern. “yeah, you’re right. i know we need to talk more, make time for that.”

leila smiles, “good. i’m here for both of you, okay? if you need to blow off steam or talk, don’t hesitate. i can tell there’s more going on than just ‘work stress,’ but i trust you’ll figure it out.”

drew forces a grin, trying to play it cool. “thanks, lei. we’ll be fine.”

leila holds his gaze for a moment longer, then nods as she steps back toward the vendor. “you better be. you guys are a strong power couple around here,” she jokes lightly.

as she glances over drew’s shoulder, her gaze settles on a nearby flower shop across the street. she doesn’t say anything, but her eyes linger, then shift back to him. there’s a soft smile playing on her lips, and she raises her brows in a silent suggestion.

he follows her line of sight, his eyes landing on the shop. it takes him a second, but he gets it. leila doesn’t need to say the words. he knows exactly what she’s trying to tell him.

“really?” he asks, dropping his smile. “you’re playing wingman?”

“wingwoman, but you know.” she gives a small, almost teasing shrug. “i mean, they’re her favorite, right? might not fix everything, but it’s a start. little things, drew.”

his eyes flick back to the shop, an old habit of buying you flowers bubbling up in his chest. “yeah, she always liked those kinds of flowers,” he murmurs, half to himself.

he nods, muttering a quiet “thanks” under his breath, as leila gives him a knowing smile before turning back to browse a nearby stall.

drew makes his way over to the flower shop, eyes scanning for your favorite blooms. the vendor helps him put together a simple yet thoughtful bouquet, and drew can't help but feel anxious but hopeful.

a few minutes later, he looks for you amongst everyone. you’ve already found leila, as you two inspect something on a stand just a few stalls down. you must not have seen drew when he was handling the flowers.

he makes his way over, and his presence is warm behind you that causes you to peer over your shoulder. you’re startled when you realize there’s actually someone there, and he’s so close. you immediately notice the flowers.

your eyebrows lift in amusement as he grins. “oh, what’s this?” you ask, your tone teasing, though there's a flicker of surprise behind your eyes.

drew holds the bouquet out, his voice soft. “for you,” he says. “maybe to make the day a little better.”

you look at the flowers, hesitating for a second before taking them. there’s a small warmth in your chest that you try to suppress, but it shows in the way your lips twitch upward into a faint smile. “thank you,” you say quietly, studying the flowers briefly before your gaze shifts back to him.

you can’t help but wrap your open arm around his neck and pull him close. his gesture is sweet and unexpected. drew’s arms finds your waist before he’s hugging you back, even tighter, but trying to be polite with how long he squeezes you.

you feel bold, and you lean away from him before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. it’s brief, almost hesitant, but enough to make drew’s breath get caught in his throat for a second.

as you pull away, you notice his glance toward leila, who's standing just a few feet away, pretending to be deeply engrossed in whatever she's holding. but she can’t hide the small wink she throws his way when he meets her gaze, a playful, silent “you're welcome” before she turns back around.

you catch it at the very last second and your mouth gapes open, so you take a step back. “are you two conspiring now?” you ask, in fake shock.

he chuckles softly. “just trying to be a good boyfriend.”

“mhm,” you murmur, but your smile lingers, and you look up at him to mumble a small “thank you” again, to which he waves it off like it’s nothing. even though you're hesitant, you can't deny that the gesture worked—at least a little.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Accident Prone

Sylus x Y/N - drabble -772 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff, based off a request, slight injury, very cute

Sylus watched as you cut up the fruit you insisted on having for a snack. It was a regular Saturday but you insisted on pampering your sleepy mob boss boyfriend. So he sat at the island and watched you hum while you sliced away. 

“Careful sweetie.” Sylus said as you got a little too close to your finger for his comfort.

“I’m a pro.” you said waving him off. This would have been true if you weren't the definition of clumsy. You turned with the plate of fruit in your hand, but your socks had it out for you today. You felt yourself starting to slip, you shoved the fruit to the counter before you slipped, knife in hand. You didn’t feel it immediately, you saw the blood first. Sylus rushed to your side, the small knife sticking out of your thigh.

You sat in silence as you felt tears starting to stream down your face. Sylus didn’t hesitate, slipping his arm under your legs to pick you up. He sat you on the counter before he used his evol, disappearing before you then reappearing with his first aid kit in hand. You called it “the mob kit” because it was basically a triage kit, holding way more than the basic supplies of a normal first aid kit. Thankfully you weren't wearing pants so he didn't have to cut anything off you. 

Sylus held your face in his hands, “Hey honey, I need you to look at me ok? Focus on me ok? Look at me…” he said before his evol ripped the knife from your leg.

You let out a sharp shriek, you felt it all now. You watched as blood trickled down your leg, spilling onto the floor and island countertop. 

“You did so good, baby so so good.” Sylus said, inspecting the cut. “Good news - no stitches. I’ll give you some poor man stitches instead.” 

You sniffled, trying to be tough in front of Sylus who had suffered far greater injuries. You nodded at him, giving him permission to do whatever he needed to do. 

Sylus cleaned your wound with iodine to avoid it stinging, he wanted to save you as much pain as possible. Once the wound had clotted enough to wrap he pinched the skin together slightly, sealing it with super glue. 

“That’s poor man's stitches? Glue?” you asked, slightly shocked.

“Sure is. You know how many of my scars are from these kinds of stitches?” he said with a chuckle. 

He blew softly on the glue to help it dry, tapping it lightly to make sure it was dry and would hold. Once he was satisfied, Sylus started wrapping gauze around your leg, pinning it in place so you could walk around and not have it ride down or irritate your skin. 

“There we go, my brave little klutz. I really have to keep an eye on you, you’re so accident prone.” he laughed, setting his hand down on the countertop. Well, what he thought was the countertop. His hand made contact with the plate of food, sliding out from under him. The fruit scattered over the counter and the floor but Sylus caught himself before he could get hurt.

“What were you saying about me being accident prone?” you said, stifling a laugh. “I worked hard to make that fruit plate, now look.” You could see the slightest dusting of pink on Sylus’ cheeks. 

Sylus rolled his eyes as he picked up a slice of peach from the counter, biting off half before offering the other half to you. You smiled, taking it between your teeth, giving his finger a quick nip while you did so. You could see a flame stoke in him. You looked at him with innocent eyes, pretending like you weren’t trying to tease him. 

“Think we can manage a way to get to the bedroom without having another accident?” Sylus asked, taking your hands and helping you off the counter. 

“I guess we’ll find out.” you said, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. 

He smiled as he watched you walk towards your shared bedroom, a small limp in your step. You felt Sylus’ evol wrap around you, carrying you to the bed. He leaned over you, pulling the fluffy comforter over you. “Stay here.” he said before disappearing once again. He reappeared once more after a moment, handing you a pain killer. 

You swallowed it with some water. “Thank you baby.” you smiled, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt to kiss him. 

Sylus smiled into the kiss, deepening it as he tilted your chin up.

------------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hello all! Hope ya'll like this one, its based off a request from a while back. I'll be writing a few fics tonight since I'm working an overnight. Love ya'll XOXOXOXOXOX

[traveler-at-heart]

The Doctor's In - Part 4

Summary: Wanda and R have their first date ;)

Wanda: Sorry I missed you before you left for work. Wanna come over for dinner with us?

Y/N: Would love to :)

“You’re awfully cheerful for someone who just got dumped” Darcy says as you smile at your phone.

“Who got what?”

“Carol and Maria…”

“No one dump me, there was no relationship to end” you say, locking your phone. You have noticed that Carol has been avoiding you, which is pretty idiotic, considering a lot of the trauma cases that come your way are ortho related.

That would also explain why Kamala rambled so much every time you requested a consult, so you made a note to speak to Carol about it.

“So…” Darcy ponders, and you wish she’d just drop it. She snaps her fingers. “The hot mom!”

“Her name is Wanda, and we are just talking” you refuse to look at her, knowing she can smell the bullshit from miles away.

“Something tells me talking wasn’t the only thing you did with your mouths” she insists, pulling on your sleeve.

“Fine! We kissed and it was awesome! Happy, you little pestering gnome?”

“Yes, lesbian whore. Congrats on securing a ticket to MILF paradise”

“Fuck you”

“Doctor Y/L/N” Kamala enters the room as you give Darcy the middle finger. “I can come back! Sorry!”

“Look what you’ve done” you mumble as Darcy cackles. The joy doesn’t last long, as you steal her chips. She’s too distracted making fun of you to notice.

“Hey, not fair”

You close the door and go after the resident.

“Hey, Kamala”

“Oh, hi. Doctor Danvers asked me to show you some X-Rays”

“Tell Doctor Danvers to show me herself. Or better yet, I will go directly to her. Where can I find her, Doctor Kahn?”

“Uh… I…”

“Never mind, I’ll ask Maria” you turn to leave  and Kamala screeches in horror.

“OR 2. She’s in OR 2. Please don’t do it, my Baba will never forgive me if I get kicked out of the program” the young doctor clings to your arm.

“Kamala. Get it together. It’s gonna be fine. If Carol gets mad, you can be in my service for a week” you promise and she barely stops hyperventilating.

By the time you reach the OR, Carol is done with her surgery. She stops in her tracks when your eyes meet.

“Doctor Danvers, a word?” you ask, trying to sound professional.

“Of course” she nods. Leading you to an empty scrub room, Carol opens the door for you, fidgeting. “What’s up?”

“Stop making everything so awkward. I’m not mad at you. Kamala is about to have a stress induced stroke from all the consults you send her to avoid me”

“You’re really not mad?” Carol says.

“No! I never expected anything else from you. We didn’t talk about it but I always knew what your true feelings were”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be, honestly. Just, stop acting like you left me at the altar or some weird shit. We’re colleagues and friends”

“That makes me happy. I didn’t want to stop talking to you” she relaxes. “Though I have to be honest, I told Maria what happened between us”

“Is she mad?”

“Only a bit and just to me. I’ll manage to turn it around” the blonde smiles, a dreamy look on her eyes.

“If it helps, tell her I have a date on Thursday” you say, leaving the room, Carol right behind you.

“Oh, let me guess. The hot mom?” she jokes.

“Her name is Wanda!” you repeat.

“Well, let me know how the date goes?” Carol pats your shoulder, and you nod.

“Will do. Now page your resident and tell her we’re all set before she gets admitted to the Psych ward”

—

The footsteps approaching on the other side make your heart jump. You wonder if the flowers are too much, but when Wanda sees them, her face lights up and you know it was the right thing to do.

“Come on in” Wanda says, taking the flowers and then standing on her toes to kiss your cheek. “The boys are in the living room”

“Want some help with the food?”

“No, I’m almost done. It will be more helpful if you entertain the twins for a little” she says, pulling the flowers close to her chest.

“Alright, then” you’re about to kiss her when the boys walk in. They’re so excited to see you that they don’t notice how close you are to their mother.

“Y/N” Billy says, running towards you.

“Hey, kiddos” you pick them up, carrying them over your shoulder and they giggle. “Come on, there’s a new game I wanna show you”

You take your time to set everything up, explaining a bit about the game. They giggle as Crash jumps and turns in the sand of the first level, and you finish it all, including the tricky jump at the end.

“Who wants to go next?”

“Me” Tommy says, sitting next to you. They are both focused on the game, so you take advantage of the distraction to go see Wanda.

Sliding into the kitchen, you grab her by the waist.

“You scared me” she laughs, allowing you to press against her back, kissing her temple. “What’s going on?”

“I have approximately fifty seconds before they ask for my help so I’m making sure they count” you turn her around and lean forward, capturing her lips and sighing against her mouth. “You look very pretty”

“Thank you”

“You smell really nice” you add, kissing her again, making Wanda laugh. “And I really, really, like kissing you”

Wanda smiles at that, her hand caressing your cheek.

“Y/N!” the boys chant in unison.

“Like clockwork” you mutter, kissing Wanda’s forehead as you go back to the living room.

You spend a few more minutes playing with the kids, until Wanda calls everyone for dinner.

“How’s the arm, kiddo?” you say, sitting next to Billy with Tommy and Wanda in front of you. As you take a bite of the chicken, you notice a funny flavor. “Is this brocc…”

Wanda widens her eyes and kicks you under the table.

“Ouch”

“You ok?” Tommy asks, none the wiser.

“Yeah, I just bit my tongue” you lie, Wanda taking a sip of her water to hide her laugh.

“Kids, eat” she encourages them, and you get the hint. The flavor of the broccoli is hidden with the cheese, so you smile and continue to eat, enjoying every single bite.

“I’m on cleaning duty” you say as soon as everyone finishes, taking the dishes and cleaning the table.

Billy and Tommy run to the living room to continue playing, and as you get ready to wash the dishes, Wanda leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“It’s nice to have you here”

“You have an odd way of showing it, Miss Maximoff” you joke, leaning against her touch.

“In my defense, it’s the only way to get them to eat their greens” she jokes and you lean forward, your lips inches away from hers. In that precise moment, the boys call for her.

“Behave” she warns the children, pulling away to see what the fuss is about.

“Have you thought about boarding schools?” you joke and she pinches your side. “Ah, kidding! I would miss them too much”

You load the dishwasher, clean the pots and put the rest of the food on some containers. By the time you’re done, the kids are getting ready to go to bed.

“Can you come over again tomorrow?”

“If your mom wants me to, sure. I can bring the food this time so she takes a break from cooking” you offer, smiling at Wanda.

“We’ll see about that, Y/N works hard enough as it is. Say goodbye to her, boys”

Tommy and Billy wave at you, already dragging their feet. You stay on the living room, and a few minutes later Wanda comes down.

“Hi” she plops down next to you and you smile.

“All good?”

“A bit tired, that’s all. Just ignore me, you’re the one that works all those crazy hours”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m used to it by now” you shrug your shoulders.

“Would you like some wine?”

“Sure, I don’t have work tomorrow”

“How come?” Wanda asks when she returns, handing you a glass of red wine and sitting closer to you on the couch.

“Well, I have a really hot date coming up and I need to plan every detail”

“She sounds like a lucky girl” Wanda blushes, biting her lip.

“Oh, I’m the lucky one” you say, placing both of your glasses on the coffee table. “She’s smart, funny, has legs for days, cooks amazing food…”

“Stop” she laughs, and you shake your head no. Wanda is still laughing when you connect your lips with hers, a sigh leaving her mouth when you lift her and place her on your lap, her legs straddling you.

“Is this ok?”

“Yeah” she nods, leaning her forehead against yours. “More than ok. As a matter of fact, I remember reading that kissing is good for your health”

“It’s so good” you say, your lips traveling to her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck. “I’d say do it as often as possible”

“Doctor’s orders?” Wanda jokes, her voice faltering as you come back to her mouth, your tongue swiping across her bottom lip.

“Doctor’s orders”

—

The plan is coming along. You have the tickets for the exhibit and the next thing on the list should be the dinner reservation. Your pager beeps the minute you call the restaurant. 

911.

“Shit” 

You sprint to the car, knowing no one would call you outside of work if it wasn’t serious. 

“What’s wrong?” you walk to the ER, looking around.

“What on Earth is this?” Tony Stark, neurosurgeon and professional asshole gets in your face the minute you get there.

“I don’t know, I’ve been off work since yesterday, Stark” you take the chart, reading all the information until you get to the signature. The writing got progressively worse, until it was just senseless lines.

“This person was clearly having a stroke, and the staff didn’t notice. I have to scrub in and see if I can save his life”

“And you’re wasting time arguing with me” you roll your eyes, pushing the chart to his chest and walking to the OR.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To scrub in. If you want to blame me, that’s fine. I’m staying by this patient’s side until he pulls through”

“If he pulls through” Stark says angrily and you ignore him. 

Before scrubbing in, you check your phone.

Wanda: Is everything ok? I saw you leaving in a hurry. 

“By all means, take your time” Stark says, glaring as he walks by you.

You spend the entire surgery in his OR, standing still and doing everything he asks. He’s a rude, pretentious cunt, but if anyone can work a miracle, it’s him, so you suck it up and take every snide comment with a blank stare.

After hours working, Tony sighs, nodding at his work. 

“Close him, Parker,” he asks his resident. You stand watching the young man’s work, until the surgeon asks you to come with him.

“I’m sorry” he blurts out the minute you step out. “This wasn’t your patient, nor your responsibility. And I made it seem like it was”

“It’s still not right. If I had been here, I would have noticed”

“I know. Your work is impeccable” he acknowledges and you nod. Even if he’s an ass, this is the hospital his father built, and he’s a genius with years ahead of you in experience.

“Will he be alright?”

“There’s a good chance he’ll pull through. Let’s be cautiously optimistic. I’ll let Parker explain everything to the family. Sorry for interrupting your days off”

“Not a problem” 

“It’s the first time you’ve taken PTO in 3 years. Fury’s gonna have my head for making you come” Tony says, laughing.

The patient is moved to the ICU, but you’re still not comfortable leaving, so you go back to the on-call room, sitting in a bed to gather your thoughts. Yelling in the hallway makes you stand up, watching as Parker tries to speak to a man and his wife. 

“You discharged him, said he was fine” the man yells, pointing at Peter’s face. 

“Sir, I can assure you, we’re doing our best to make sure your son…”

“We wanna see him now��� the man takes Peter by his coat, almost lifting him off the ground. The young man stutters, not knowing how to deescalate the situation.

“Hey, that’s enough” you step in, not realizing the man is about to throw a punch until you make him drop Peter, his elbow connecting with your cheek.

“Crap, Doctor Y/L/N, are you ok?” Peter says, rushing to your side.

“Yeah, fine”

Fucking fantastic. 

“Sir, I’m going to ask you to wait in the foyer, or I’ll call security” Carol steps in, glaring at the man. She waits until he’s gone, muttering an apology your way. “You ok?”

“Mhm, great”

“I thought you had a few days off”

“Yeah, me too”

“Come on, let’s have a look at that punch” Carol says, dragging you to one of the exam rooms. You sigh, trying to keep your eye closed. “No stitches needed”

“Great” you mumble, pulling out your phone. There’s like five messages from Wanda but before you can answer, she calls you.

“Hey”

“Hey, are you ok? You had me worried”

“Yeah, there was a thing at the hospital and I… ouch! Carol, a little warning?” you hiss as the blonde pours some disinfectant on the bruised skin.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were busy” Wanda says, her demeanor changing. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone”

“Wait, Wanda!” you say but it’s too late, the call cut off. “God, could this day get any worse? I have to go”

“Want me to drive you there?” Carol says with a smile and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah. That will make Wanda so happy”

“Whipped” Carol jokes and you try to glare, but it hurts your eye.

Wanda barely put the kids to bed, when she hears a knock on the door. She’s prepared to give you an attitude but then sees your swollen cheek.

“Oh, my God, what happened to you, are you ok?” the brunette says, immediately forgetting she’s mad at you.

“It’s a long story. But that doesn’t matter. Listen, I know how it seems, I tell you I’m busy and when you call me I’m with Carol”

“I know you work together. It’s fine” Wanda lies.

“No, it’s not, come on”

“Ok, just come in and explain everything while I get you some ice, ok?”

“Thanks” you mutter, sitting at the kitchen counter. You fidget with your hands, not looking up until Wanda comes closer, her eyes soft as she moves the hair out of your face.

“Cold” she warns, placing a compress against your skin. You sigh with relief, holding her hand close.

“I’m sorry. I was called in to fix something I didn’t break”

“Don’t apologize for doing your job, Y/N” she says in a soft voice. “Is everyone ok? Is that how you got hurt?”

“Everyone’s ok. The parents were just pissed and I tried to break the fight”

“Does it hurt?” Wanda pulls the compress and examines the skin. It’s a little bruised, but not too swollen.

“It will later” you sigh.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You can kiss it better”

“Is that what Carol was doing earlier?” Wanda tilts her head, a dangerous look in her eyes that sends shivers down your spine.

“Oh, come on! Not fair!”

“I’m kidding” she says, finally kissing you softly. You close your eyes, relaxing for the first time in 12 hours. “I’m sorry for giving you a hard time, you were saving lives”

“What you feel is valid. Don’t apologize for it, ok? I’ll always listen to you, I promise” you kiss her hand, smiling when she blushes. “We’re still up for our date, right?”

“We can reschedule, you must be exhausted”

“Not a chance” you say, pulling her closer again. “I’ve been waiting too long for this”

“Well, alright. If you insist” she pecks your lips and you nod.

“I do”

“I have an… odd request” she says, avoiding your eyes.

“I won’t kink shame you, I promise”

“Can you be serious for just a second?” Wanda laughs, taking your hand. You make a motion to keep quiet, and let her speak. “Can you… pick me up around the block?”

“I can. But why am I doing it?”

“First of all, if the kids see you, they’ll want to tag along. And also… I’m not trying to be pessimistic here, I just want to protect them. It’s been the three of us since they were born and I’ve never even dated anyone, let alone someone they know” she takes a deep breath, hoping you won’t get upset.

“Billy and Tommy come first, always” you nod. “I agree to the new rule, or I can wear glasses and a fake mustache”

“Nope” she shakes her head, covering your mouth with her hand.

“A bald cap then” you mumble against her palm.

She figures the only way to make it stop is by kissing you and she leans forward, her lips against yours. You smile dreamily as she pulls apart.

“Now. Would you like some dinner?” Wanda offers, and you almost drop to your knees.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect, Wanda Maximoff”

The way she blushes and giggles makes up for all the shitty things that happened in the past hours.

—

“There’s food and snacks, a list of phone numbers on the fridge in case of an emergency”

“Yes, Mrs. Maximoff,” Morgan says, following the woman around the house. It’s her first time babysitting the twins, but Wanda has known the girl since she started giving her private art lessons and trusts her.

“Boys, I’m leaving” Wanda calls, the kids standing up from the table to hug their mom goodbye. “Be good to Morgan, ok?”

“Where are you going?” Tommy asks.

“A work thing” she lies, feeling terrible about hiding the truth from the twins. But still, she knows it’s for the best to keep this private.

She waves goodbye one last time and walks past the house, noticing your car is no longer in the driveway. Her heart beats fast at the expectation of an evening together.

“Hey, gorgeous” you greet, leaning against the passenger door. “You look absolutely stunning”

You admire how amazing she looks in a pair of jeans, a white tee and a long sleeve sweater.

“So do you” she kisses you, smiling as you open the door to the car.

“Thanks, the purple eye gives my look a nice touch” you say as you begin the drive.

“Are you gonna tell me where we are going?”

“You’ll find out soon enough” you say, hoping she likes the surprise. “First stop” you announce, opening the car door for Wanda and looking at the building in front of you. 

“Artechouse. Oh, I’ve heard about this” Wanda nods, intrigued.

“I did too, but never made the time to go. Come on” you lead her to the entrance, showing your tickets. “There’s a small bar if you wanna have a drink before we go in” 

“Let’s go in now” she says, looking everywhere. 

You think it’s a good sign that she’s so interested in the exhibit, so you lead her to the start, both of you gasping as you enter a room that is projecting videos of flowers from floor to ceiling. Wanda’s hand searches yours in the dark, and you smile shyly as she holds it, walking around the room.

The intimacy of the place allows you to come closer, sharing everything you see in a low voice and enjoying the show. 

“Check this out” you say, lifting your arm, the animation following your movements. Wanda lets out a laugh, doing the same.

Each room enchants Wanda even more, the next installation featuring plants that react to the touch with light and sound. Your favorite by far is the tree that reacts differently if you’re holding hands or hugging. As you walk up to it, Wanda is still holding your hand and you both look at the screen. Well, she’s looking at the projection and you’re looking at her, thinking how beautiful she is. 

Taking a step forward, your arms go around her waist and you smile, admiring how the images change.

“It’s beautiful” Wanda whispers, turning to you. “You’re not looking” 

“I have the best view right in front of me” you smile, happy when she kisses you softly.

Wanda takes her time examining everything and once she’s done, you walk to the exit. 

“That was amazing. I forgot how much I enjoy these things. Thank you, Y/N”

“Glad you liked it” 

“Best first date I’ve had,” she smiles.

“Oh, this is only the first part. You don’t really think I’d forget about the food, right?” 

“Where are we going?”

“Well, there’s a very fancy option but I don’t feel like going with this thing on my face” you point at the bruise, annoyed. “If you’re feeling adventurous we could try something different?” 

“You look perfectly fine, darling” she kisses your cheek. “But I’m up for an adventure, so lead the way” 

“Awesome” you hold her hand, walking down the street and away from the museum. This is your favorite part of town, close to the pier and the little shops that are open until late. 

You walk down the promenade, showing Wanda some of the places you love. There’s a small gallery, a cafe, and other shops. 

“We’re here” you announce, pointing excitedly at the kebab shop. “This is fine, right? We can still go to the fancy place if you like”

“Sorry this place isn’t fancy enough for you, Majesty” the owner pops out of nowhere, scaring you.

“Samir! That’s not what I meant. You know I love your food”

“Mhm” he glares, but then smiles at Wanda. “What can I get for you, angel?”

“Well, what’s good here?” Wanda wonders, not as familiar with the dishes. “Maybe a shawarma” 

“How about a kebab box, fries to share and a doner” you suggest, “And her shawarma, of course” 

“That’s a lot of food” she protests and you shrug your shoulders.

“I’m always eating leftovers before I leave for work so it’s fine, babe” 

“Oh, well” she wants to scold you about your eating habits, but the pet name makes her dizzy. 

You pay and lead them to a small table outside, unaware of Wanda’s flustered state. You hand over a soda and open your can, taking a sip.

“We can go to other art shows whenever you want, you know? Even if I don’t understand anything, I do enjoy watching you” you smile, laughing as Wanda’s cheeks go red at the comment.

“I did enjoy it, thank you. You come here often?”

“I do, I love the food here. Samir noticed I came late because of my shifts and he always saved me some food. Nice fella” you turn to make sure he’s not listening. “But I promise I’ll take you to dinner to that other place when I don’t look like a raccoon”

“You don’t have to” 

“I kinda want to see you in a dress, all fancy like that time you left for another date” you smile at the memory of how beautiful she looked.

Wanda’s heart bursts with the way you look at her, complete adoration in your eyes. She’s almost left speechless, but her phone saves her. 

“It’s my brother” she apologizes, taking the call. “Hi, Pietro. No, I’m not with them. Because, I’m out. Of course with a babysitter, stupid” she rolls her eyes, and then switches to a language that you don’t understand, but sounds like Russian. You look at her in awe, until Samir calls for you to get the food. By the time you’re back at the table, Wanda already hung up.

“Sorry about that” 

“No, don’t worry. I guess I never asked, but are you Russian?”

“Sokovian” she corrects. “We moved to the States when Pietro and I were ten” 

“Wow. I never… you don’t even have an accent” 

“It slips up from time to time, especially if I’m angry or… flustered” Wanda says, and you almost choke on the food, thinking of all the ways you could make it come out. 

“Oh, well” you clear your throat. “Is your brother ok?”

“Yeah, he wanted to ask the boys something about video games that I don’t understand. I’m sure you would” 

“I don’t know, my knowledge is limited to things that existed when I was a kid. How’s the food?”

“Amazing. Wow” Wanda says, pleased with the flavor of the meat and how it compliments the rice and dips.

“See? We’re good enough for a first date” Samir shouts from the kitchen.

“Stop listening to our conversation” you shout back and he grumbles. Wanda smiles, thinking of something she’s wanted to ask for a while now.

“Do you ever visit your family?” 

“No, not really” you shake your head. “I pretty much left for college and never returned. Except this one Christmas, where I was feeling kind of lonely and tired. I just wanted to be home, but everything was so different, my half siblings were just too much to handle for anyone… and I didn’t even know what to do, no one bought me a present because I was never around and they just thought I’d be gone like last year”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked…”

“It’s fine” you shrug your shoulders. “I know it’s weird, but I like my life, you know? My colleagues are great, I’m doing what I love… and if I hadn’t moved here, I wouldn’t have met you”

“Yeah, that’s true. It’s their loss” Wanda smiles, kissing you. You smile against her lips. “You can always spend the holidays with us, you know? I mean, it’s too soon to talk about it, I’m just saying”

“That would be nice” you interrupt her rambling. “Now, I have something very important to ask. Out of all the neighbors, which one is the most annoying and why?”

“Well, I’d say it’s… Agatha”

“Harkness! Yes! I knew you disliked her too” 

Wanda laughs and you keep the conversation going. By the time you’re done, you pay and leave a big tip for Samir, who gives you a hug as you leave the store.

“I’m so full” Wanda says, patting her stomach. 

“I know. Oh, you want ice cream?” you say, remembering the gelato store that is a few shops ahead. 

“You just said you were full!”

“It’s ice cream, come on” you take her hand, and pay for two cones. Wanda orders strawberry while you opt for chocolate.

“How is it?” you ask as you walk down the pier, enjoying the view. 

“Amazing, have some” she offers the cone, but you kiss her instead. “That’s not what I meant” Wanda laughs against your lips.

“Well, it tastes amazing to me” you say, leaning forward and chasing after her soft lips, the flavor lingering as you deepen the kiss. Wanda sighs against your mouth, pulling you closer until your hand goes down her waist. “Best ice cream I’ve ever had” 

“Yeah” Wanda nods, her eyes closed. You peck her lips one last time, and continue your walk, still talking about everything you can think of, enjoying each other’s company.

When she checks the time more than once you get the hint, ready to go home.

“I’m sorry, I’m just being annoying, we can stay longer” 

“It’s ok, I know you like to be home early. Come on, we can drink wine or I’ll let you go to bed”

You rest your hand on Wanda’s leg for the entire ride home, unaware that your touch is making the woman restless. When you’re close to your house, you stop exactly where you picked Wanda up.

“I can just park at home, right? The boys are probably asleep”

“Yeah” Wanda nods, flustered. You’re about to ask what’s wrong when she moves forward, pulling you down for a rough kiss that takes your breath away. It’s a bit messy and desperate, and you ignore the strain of your seatbelt as Wanda pulls you closer to her, sighing against your mouth.

“You can’t park here!” an annoying person knocks on your window and you both break apart. “Oh, my! Wanda? Doctor Y/L/N?”

Damn it, it’s Agatha Harkness. Your nosy, annoying neighbor. Rolling down the window and smoothing your clothes, you smile at her.

“Hey, Miss Harkness. Sorry, I’ll move right now” 

“No, don’t worry” she gives you a sly smile. “Have a good night, you two love birds”

“Night, Agatha” Wanda says and you turn on the car, finally parking in your driveway.

“That was fun” you comment, opening the door for Wanda and crossing the street to walk her home.

“Yeah, just our luck” Wanda laughs, taking your hand. “Wanna come in? Or do you have to work tomorrow?”

“Not until Saturday. Come on” you let her lead you to her house, opening the door as quietly as possible. Wanda sees Morgan at the kitchen table, doing her homework.

“How did everything go?”

“Great, they went to sleep an hour ago” 

“Morgan Stark?” you greet, closing the door behind you. 

“You two know each other?” Wanda says.

“Yeah, my parents work at the hospital with Doctor Y/L/N” Morgan says, waving at you. “Nice to see you” 

“Did you drive here? Or want me to take you home?” 

“It’s fine, I drove here” she says, and you hand over some money before Wanda can pay her. 

“Drive safely, ok? Don’t want your dad giving me crap on the next meeting”

“Will do. Good night, Miss Maximoff”

“Night, Morgan”

“You didn’t have to pay for that too” Wanda says, kissing you. “But thank you” 

“Anytime. How do you know Morgan?” you nod when she offers you a glass of wine and you walk to the living room with her.

“I’m giving her private art lessons. She’s really good. Had no idea her parents were doctors”

“Not just any doctors, baby” you say, taking a sip. “Tony’s father built the hospital we work in. And he’s done some amazing research in neurosurgery. Pepper is also one of the best plastic surgeons in the world” 

“Wow, Morgan is so sweet and down to Earth”

“She gets that from her mom, Tony can be an ass” you mutter and Wanda laughs. “So, did I secure a second date?”

“A third one as well. But only if I can pay for the next one”

“Nu-uh. I’m spoiling you, baby” you say, your hand going to her leg. You notice how Wanda’s cheeks turn red, and you’re not sure if it’s the nickname or the contact. “Come here”

You take her glass of wine, approaching her slowly and kissing her. It’s tender at first, but then your hands travel to her lower back, and Wanda moans against your mouth. You deepen the kiss, sighing when she pushes you on your back, climbing on top of you.

Wanda kisses down your neck, biting slightly. The sudden nip makes your hips jolt forward, and she has to hold back another moan.

“I don’t know how you do it” she says, shivering when your hands travel down and cup her ass through her jeans.

“Do what, baby?”

“Drive me crazy with just one touch”

“Let me take care of you” you ask, kissing her, your hands going all the way to the front of her pants.

“Mom?”

“Shit” she mutters, both of her hands covering your mouth. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I’m thirsty,” Tommy says.

“Alright, don’t come down, I’ll be right there, ok?” she says, hoping the boy hasn’t noticed anything strange. But he’s too sleepy so he just agrees and returns to his room. “I’m sorry”

She removes her hands from your mouth, helping you up.

“It’s fine, I enjoy the choking but just give me a heads up”

“Stop” she says, blushing. “I’ll be right back. Unless, you want to go? I’m sorry”

“I can stay” you nod, smiling at her disheveled state.

“Alright, I’ll be back” Wanda promises, pecking your lips.

You sit up, fixing your hair and taking a sip of the wine to calm down.

“Everything ok?” you say as Wanda comes down. She nods, smiling and sitting next to you.

“Yeah, I just didn’t think they’d be up. Maybe… we could wait a bit? When I’m not worried about the boys walking in on anything”

“Of course. Come here” you open your arms, and she settles, leaning her head against your shoulder. You kiss her temple. “Wanna watch some tv?”

“What about a sitcom? I love watching those”

“Like Friends?”

“Like Bewitched or… The Dick Van Dyke show” she says and you laugh, completely caught off guard by the suggestion.

“You’re fascinating, Wanda Maximoff” you say, handing over the remote, ready to watch whatever she wants.

[genshinluvr]

The Traveling Artist's Ailment

Pairings: Zhongli x fem!reader x Neuvillette

Summary: As a renowned traveling artist from Mondstadt, you travel the world to paint and draw various things. Your lovers, Zhongli and Neuvillette, are supportive of your dreams of becoming a traveling artist. However, during one of your work trips to Sumeru, you stumble across a sickly floating anemo fungus (well, technically, it came to you). You nursed the floating anemo fungus back to health, only to fall ill yourself.

Note: One of my followers and close friends commissioned this fanfic! To read her commissioned version, I will link it at the very end of this fanfic. This is the longest fanfic I have typed out ever since I came out of my hiatus. I hope my friend likes her commission (she has read most of it so far but hasn't read the newer parts I have added). Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I know of 🤔 However, since this is a commissioned fic, there will be some things that trace back to the commissioner— there will be she/her/hers pronouns used throughout this fic when referring to the reader.

Word Count: 6.8k

Sumeru, the nation ruled by the God of Wisdom. The scenery is beautiful— everywhere you look is a land of luscious greenery. You stand in front of the statue of the seven in the Avidya Forest, admiring the view before you. As a traveling artist, you have the privilege of witnessing the beautiful scenery of every nation in Teyvat. 

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ᨐฅ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

When you first began your career as a renowned traveling artist, you started in your home nation—the beautiful nation ruled by the Anemo Archon Barbatos. Before becoming a traveling artist, you weren’t satisfied with your career. And as cheesy as it sounds, you wanted to find your purpose, and the only thing that kept you going was your love for drawing and traveling. 

“You’re incredibly talented. Have you thought of becoming a traveling artist?” Albedo asked, analyzing the canvas while stroking his chin.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, mimicking Albedo’s actions. “I’ll have to be honest with you, Albedo. I have not! And even if I did, I don’t think a certain someone would approve of my ambitions.”

Albedo raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Are you implying that your boyfriends will not approve of your goals?”

Your face becomes hot at the mention of your, ahem, “boyfriends.” You wouldn’t say that you, Zhongli, and Neuvillette were dating per se, but you wouldn’t say that you three weren’t seeing each other romantically. You would often travel to Liyue and Fontaine to visit the men on separate occasions. Sometimes, when they had the chance, Zhongli and Neuvillette would visit Mondstadt to spend time with you. There were lingering touches and longing stares thrown around, but anything above that had yet to happen. Wait, what was Albedo saying again? Oh, right!

You cleared your throat, looking back at the canvas. “It’s not like they’ll disapprove of my choice of wanting to become a traveling artist. They worry, Albedo. And can you blame them?” You muttered, finishing up your painting of the Stormterror’s Lair. 

The day you sat down with Neuvillette and Zhongli to talk about your decision to become a traveling artist, you three were sitting outside Good Hunter in Mondstadt. You sat between the two men, eating your food. Children were laughing and running around the area while the adults were going on with their day, enjoying the simple life in Mondstadt.

“Dear, are you alright? You seem distracted,” Neuvillette said, breaking you out of your daydream.

You didn’t realize you were poking at your Sticky Honey Roast until Neuvillette brought you out of your thoughts. You nodded, giving Neuvillette a reassuring smile before proceeding to eat your lunch. While you weren’t looking, Neuvillette and Zhongli looked at one another, not saying a word. 

Zhongli cleared his throat, placing his hand over yours. “Are you sure you’re alright? If there’s anything you want to talk about with us, you’re always welcome to,” Zhongli murmured, gazing at you with his warm amber eyes.

You placed your fork on the plate and took a deep breath. “I am thinking of becoming a traveling artist. What do you two think?” You looked at Neuvillette and Zhongli anxiously, worried they were going to discourage you from pursuing such a career. 

Zhongli’s eyes lit up, the corners of his lips curving up. “Oh, I think that would be a lovely idea. I believe in doing things you love, and you are an incredibly talented artist.” Zhongli took a sip of his drink. I don’t see why not.”

After hearing Zhongli’s approval, your eyes lit up with excitement and hope. You turned to Neuvillette only to see the hesitation on his face. Neuvillette didn’t seem to agree with Zhongli. Neuvillette had always encouraged you to do what you love, but with this new career path, the Iudex was rather hesitant about the idea.

You blinked, reaching for Neuvillette’s hand, and gently squeezed it. “Neuvillette, are you alright?”

Neuvillette lets out a long exhale before meeting your gaze, smiling weakly. “[Y/N], dear, as much as I would love to see you pursue your dreams of becoming a traveling artist…” Neuvillette trails off, sighing again, “I can’t help but worry about your safety and the potential dangers of you getting into while you’re traveling alone.”

You couldn’t help but feel offended but also giddy over the fact that the oh-so-powerful Iudex of Fontaine worrying over little ole you. You couldn’t help but giggle, tucking your hair behind your ears while blushing madly. Neuvillette gazed at you, confused. You could hear Zhongli chuckling behind you while proceeding to finish his lunch.

You cleared your throat and placed both hands over Neuvillette’s. “Neuvi, I understand where you’re coming from, and,” you paused to squeal, reaching up to pinch his cheeks, “I would be much happier as a traveling artist than my current career path. Not only do I get to travel the world, but that means I can visit you and Zhongli more often!”

Neuvillette mulled over the idea of you getting the chance to visit Fontaine and Liyue more often and longer than in the past. Right as you were about to take a bite of the Sticky Honey Roast, a thin arm wrapped around your shoulders startled you and caused you to drop the metal fork. Zhongli and Neuvillette’s heads snapped in your direction to see the familiar bumbling drunkard draped over you. 

Zhongli scoffed, his nose wrinkled with disgust after catching a whiff of alcohol from the Anemo Archon. “Venti, please refrain from touching [Y/N] without her consent,” Zhongli said, narrowing his eyes at the bard.

Venti giggled and released you. “Hey, blockhead— I mean Zhongli and…” Venti froze when his eyes locked with Neuvillette. “O-Oh! It’s you!” Venti squeaked.

Neuvillette smiled at Venti before sipping water from his chalice and placing it on the table. “Greetings, Venti. I see that you are acquaintances with my beloved [Y/N].” 

Zhongli furrowed his eyebrows at Neuvillette’s comment and cleared his throat, “Our beloved [Y/N]. What am I? Chopped liver?” Zhongli rolled his eyes.

Neuvillette ignored Zhongli’s comment, proceeding to stare down the Anemo Archon. Venti cleared his throat before walking around the table to face the three of you. The bard propped his hands on his hips. You, Neuvillette, and Zhongli stared back at Venti, unsure what he had in mind. 

Venti sniffed dramatically, wiping away nonexistent tears with his index finger. “Oh, [Y/N]! Hearing your departure from Mondstadt breaks my heart. But hearing your love for the arts and wanting to share your exquisite talents with the world is inspiring!” Venti said dramatically, his lyre materializing in his hands, and he started to strum the instrument. “I would like to dedicate this song to you~!” Venti winked at you.

While Venti was serenading the three of you, Neuvillette mulled over the idea of you traveling the world and sharing your talent with people from every nation on Teyvat. 

Neuvillette turned to you, whispering into your ears, “If that is what you wish to pursue, then I shall not intervene with your desires. As long as you are safe and happy, that is all that matters to me.”

Your eyes lit up once again. “Really!?” You squeaked, gazing at Neuvillette with stars in your eyes.

Neuvillette’s cheeks slowly turned pink the longer you stared at him with awe and happiness. The Iudex cleared his throat, nodding. You squealed and threw yourself at your beloved Neuvillette, arms wrapped around his shoulders while pressing your cheek against his. Zhongli chuckled, shaking his head as he continued to listen to Venti sing, admiring you and Neuvillette from his seat.

You turned to Zhongli and beckoned him over. Zhongli hesitated for a moment, only to give in when you gave him puppy-dog eyes. Who could say no to that sweet face of yours? Zhongli stood from his seat and walked over to where you and Neuvillette were sitting before leaning over to wrap his arms around you and Neuvillette. Zhongli made sure to kiss the side of your head, ignoring the stares shot in your direction.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ᨐฅ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

“Sumeru is so beautiful,” You whisper, setting down your art supplies. You have been traveling for a few months now, and you’re loving every bit of it! You met so many nice people, and many people have commissioned you to paint certain landscapes from other regions! Your being in Sumeru is for your customer’s commission, and you cannot wait for them to receive the painting soon.

Usually, you would travel to your customer to personally deliver their commission. However, this time is different because your customer will be picking up their commission in Sumeru. After all, according to them, they will be on a work trip to Sumeru in a few weeks. When it comes to your paintings, it doesn’t take you long to complete them. You work quite fast on your paintings, and that is what your customers love about working with you— you get things done in a timely manner, or you complete the commission way before the deadline. 

You scan your surroundings, trying to find the perfect image to capture onto your canvas. The customer was quite vague with what they wanted you to paint. The only instruction that was given to you was to paint a scenery in Sumeru. Did you ask them to clarify for you? Yes, you did! However, this person didn’t have an idea in mind.

“You have free range, Miss Renowned Artist! I would like for it to be a surprise! Any scenery will do as long as it’s in Sumeru!” The customer said, smiling smugly as if they were doing you a huge favor. 

You exhale and scratch your head. “This is going to be more complicated than I thought,” You mutter.

Sumeru has a lot to offer, and it is hard for an artist like yourself to capture a specific landscape onto one canvas. You see, you want to capture the current landscape before you, but at the same time, you also want to capture the breathtaking deserts of Sumeru. You pull out a single Mora from your bag, choosing to do heads or tails to make the decision for you. Easy, right? You’re indecisive, so the Mora will pick what you paint for your customer! Before flipping the Mora, you make sure to mark one side of the Mora with white paint because both sides have the same engraving.

The side with white paint will be the desert (heads), while the side without paint will be the current luscious green landscape before you (tails).

You place the Mora between your thumb and index finger with the side with white paint facing upward. Using your thumb, you flick the Mora in the air before catching it and placing it on the back of your other hand without revealing the results. When you move your hand, you see the decision the Mora has made.

The side of the Mora facing upward isn’t marked with white paint; therefore, you will be painting the luscious green landscape! You wipe the white paint off the other side of the Mora before tossing it back into your bag. You pull out the canvas and place it on the easel before digging into your bag for your palette, paints, and brushes. 

Once you have set up your materials, you start sketching out the landscape with a pencil. You hum softly, engrossed in your work, as you listen to the birds sing around you. It’s relatively cloudy today in Sumeru; it’s not too hot or too cold, and the weather is just right. You peek from your canvas to double-check to make sure everything is in the correct spot, and nothing is missing.

After an hour passes by, your sketch of the landscape is completed, and you can now start painting the beautiful scenery after your lunch break. In the medium-sized container, you pack rice with Honey Char Siu on top, and in the smaller container, it contains seven rainbow macarons. 

Every time when you go on your trip, you make sure to pack food that reminds you of your beloveds on the first day of your arrival to a new nation. From then on, you will eat food from the nation you’re currently visiting. There’s no easy way to contact Zhongli and Neuvillette while you’re traveling the world, so the only way for you to feel connected to the two men is through food that you pack for yourself! 

Being a traveling artist does get lonely from time to time. You have no one to talk to aside from locals in that region, but it’s nice to have some alone time. You enjoy the peace and quiet, but you love being able to interact with those around you. Your wanderlust drives you insane. What can you do about it? You choose to become a traveling artist to be able to do what you love: traveling and showing the world your amazing art skills. 

“Your gift needs to be shared with the world, [Y/N]. I’m baffled that you’re not a renowned artist yet. If you want a head start in your career, you can always let me know, and I will gladly help you make your dreams come true.” Zhongli’s words echo in your head as you happily munch on your lunch. 

You couldn’t help but tear up at the thought of how incredibly supportive both Zhongli and Neuvillette are. Growing up, you didn’t have much of a support system in your life, but as you grew older, you ended up meeting amazing people who loved and supported you. You’re grateful for everyone in your life, and you will make them proud as you continue to work hard as a traveling artist. 

After finishing your lunch, you immediately start on your customer’s commission. You mix a few paints to create a specific color for the sky as the sun is peeking from the cloudy skies. Each brush stroke brings the canvas to life, almost as if you used a Kamera instead of paints to create the masterpiece before you. 

Just as you’re a little over halfway done with the painting, you hear something strange coming from behind you. You freeze in your spot, hoping that it’s not a vicious creature behind you, planning on making you its dinner. You slowly turn your head to see something you weren’t expecting. The small creature looks sickly, struggling to stay afloat, only to tumble to the ground. You can’t help but pity the poor thing.

You continue to watch the floating (well, not anymore) anemo fungus waddle and stumble in your direction. Judging by its appearance, it’s most likely ill. You place your paintbrush and palette on the ground before cautiously walking towards the sickly floating anemo fungus. You kneel and hold your hands out, catching the anemo fungus before it can fall on its face. 

You cradle it in your arms and wince when it lets out a small sneeze. Well, small is an understatement. When the anemo fungus sneezed, it let out a strong gust of wind, causing the items around you to rattle in their spot. You chuckle and take your apron off, laying it on the rock nearby.

The floating anemo fungus shivers in your arms, sniffling here and there, and its eyes are glazed over. You’re unsure whether there is a doctor that specializes in caring for mystical beasts such as this anemo fungus. You glance at your unfinished painting, unsure whether you should temporarily abandon your painting to care for the sick floating anemo fungus or proceed as usual before caring for the creature. 

“Hold on, little guy. Let me finish this painting, and then I’ll get you some help,” you coo to the floating anemo fungus.

You walk to where your apron lies and place the floating anemo fungus on the rock before draping it with your jacket. It won’t do much, but it will provide some warmth for the poor creature. You pick up your paintbrush and palette, continuing where you left off with the customer’s commission. 

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ᨐฅ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

A few days into your trip to Sumeru as a traveling artist, you end up renting out a quaint home in Gandharva Ville close to your painting site. Initially, you did plan on staying in Sumeru City during your stay, but due to some unforeseeable circumstances, you decided to remain in Gandharva Ville for the remainder of your trip.

Your customer’s commission is about ninety-eight percent completed, and since you’re almost done with the painting, you decide to take a few days off to nurse the floating anemo fungus back to health.

Needless to say, caring for a sick fungus is more complicated than you expected it to be. You’re never sure what to feed the fungus, aside from giving it plenty of water to drink. Are Liyuen dishes too spicy? Would Fontainian food be too bland for it? What about Sumeru dishes? There are many times when you question your sanity because you don’t have someone to consult about this issue. You were on your own.

Did you consult specialists or scientists about this issue? No, you did not because they would not take you seriously because why would you care about a creature that wreaks havoc on civilization if it gets the chance?

After the fifth day of being in Sumeru (and nursing the poor floating anemo fungus back to health), you wake up feeling horrendous. Your head is pounding, one nostril is stuffed while the other is runny, your entire body feels incredibly hot, and your throat feels swollen. Dear Barbatos, is it possible that the floating anemo fungus passed its sickness onto you? Despite feeling like a mitachurl has whacked you with its wooden shield, you continue to push on and finish the commission. After all, you do have to meet with your customer in Sumeru City in a few hours.

Standing at the site, you put the finishing touches on the painting while trying to act like you’re fine and healthy. The floating anemo fungus hangs out beside you, happily floating while looking as healthy as ever. 

“And we’re done!” You sigh in relief, clearing your throat and putting your paintbrush on the palette. 

You take a step back and admire your now-completed artwork. The floating anemo fungus squeaks with joy and twirls around. You gently pet the creature, watching it nuzzle into the palm of your hand. Just when you assumed you were going to spend time in Sumeru alone, a (formerly) sickly little fungus ended up keeping you company.

You smile and pet the floating anemo fungus, “Thank you for keeping me company, little guy.”

The floating anemo fungus squeaks with joy, nuzzling its face against yours as if it’s thanking you for nursing it back to health. As much as you’re hesitant to release the floating anemo fungus back into the wild, you have no other choice but to do so. You watch the floating anemo fungus slowly disappear off into the wild, your heart feeling heavy after realizing that you’re now alone.

You muster up the strength and start packing your things to return to the house you rented. At least you finally completed the commission and can relax in Sumeru before going to your next destination. However, you’re not sure when you can set off on your next journey due to your sickness.

After dropping your items off at your temporary home, you set off to Sumeru City to meet with your customer. The city is bustling, and the smell of delicious Sumeru dishes wafts in the air, making your stomach rumble with hunger. 

A voice brings you out of your thoughts, “Ah! Miss Renowned Artist!” 

You turn to see your customer waltzing towards you with guests behind them— their business partners, you presume? The customer’s eyes light up with excitement upon laying their eyes on the large canvas in your hands. 

“You have completed my commission, I see!” The customer states, standing before you with an expectant gaze. 

You smile, nodding. “Yes! I have completed your commission! Please let me know your thoughts on it!” You say, turning the canvas around for the customer to see. 

The customer, their business partners, and citizens of Sumeru passing by gasped in awe. The painting looked beautiful and breathtaking—not only breathtaking but very vivid. People around you started whispering and pointing at the painting. Some even pulled their Cameras out to snap a picture of you and the painting.

The customer places their right hand over their heart while covering their mouth with the other, “Miss [Y/N], this art piece is absolutely beautiful! You really outdone yourself!” The customer praises, eyes gleaming with joy. “Is it too soon to commission you again?” The customer giggles.

The people around you two chuckle as they continue to admire the painting in the customer’s hand. After a few minutes of admiring the painting, the customer pays you a handsome amount of Mora before walking off with their business partners. You place the bag of Mora in your travel-sized bag before walking to the nearest bench in Sumeru City, sighing. Archons above, you feel so exhausted, and you have a long way back to your rented house on the outskirts of the city. You don’t know how much longer you can handle this. 

“[Y/N]! Is that you!?” A high-pitched voice pulls you out of your inner turmoil.

You look up to see Aether and Paimon approach you. The white-haired floating girl waves her hands at you ecstatically while barreling in your direction. Before she can smack you in the face with her entire body, Aether quickly grabs her by her clothes and holds her back— Paimon squirms in Aether’s hands, huffing and protesting.

Aether shakes his head, smiling at you apologetically. “Sorry, [Y/N]. Paimon’s just excited to see you again after not seeing you in months.”

You smile at Aether and Paimon, standing up from the bench while dusting your clothes off. “There’s no need to apologize, Aether! I’m happy to see you both again!” You say, ignoring the shivers going down your spine.

Aether releases Paimon, and she immediately hugs your face, resting her cheek on your head while petting your hair happily. “It’s good to see you again, [Y/N]! How’s the life of being a traveling artist?”

You laugh and pat the top of her head, watching Aether pull Paimon off you with another apologetic smile. “It’s great! I get to do what I love: travel the world, paint, and draw. I get to visit Liyue and Fontaine much longer compared to when I was still working at my previous job.”

You start to recount your traveling experiences as a traveling artist to Aether and Paimon. You tell them about your commissions, answer their questions regarding your career as a traveling artist, and more. While the three of you are catching up, a huge wave of dizziness hits you like a mitachurl. You clutch your head and close your eyes, your body breaking into cold sweat as you shiver under the warm sunlight. Aether places his hand on your shoulders, steadying you. 

Paimon hovers in front of you, looking at you worriedly. “Are you okay, [Y/N]? Paimon’s worried about you.”

You crack your eyes open and smile at her. “I’m not feeling well, actually,” you reply. You tell Aether and Paimon the gist of what caused you to fall ill ever since you step foot into Sumeru: a sickly floating anemo fungus coming to you for help, you putting your customer’s commission to the side to nurse the fungus back to health, and here you are. Sick. The sickness isn’t anything deadly (you hope), but you’re in desperate need of rest, or else you will collapse, and the trip to Sumeru will last longer than you planned. 

Paimon tugs on your shirt, ushering you to stand up. “We gotta take you back to your rented house! You need to rest!”

Aether wraps his arms around your waist and has you wrap your arm around his shoulders as he walks you out of Sumeru City. Your legs feel like jelly, making it nearly impossible for you to take more than twenty steps. Aether ends up giving you a piggyback ride back to the house you rented in Gandharva Ville, with Paimon occasionally making sure you’re still alive and breathing.

One minute, you’re on Aether’s back, being carried back to your rental house; the next, you find yourself lying on the bed with Paimon and Aether’s face hovering over yours. The two stare down at you worriedly, wondering what’s the next step.

Paimon snaps her fingers when an idea pops into her head. “We should contact Mister Zhongli and Monsieur Neuvillette to inform them of their lover’s ailment!”

Before Aether can do that, you sit up and quickly grab Aether’s wrist, startling both outlanders. You shake your head, looking at them pleadingly. Neuvillette and Zhongli cannot see you like this! Sure, you never hide things from the two people you hold near and dear to your heart, but you don’t want them to worry about you! Besides, it’s not like you’re dying! What you have is most likely a minor cold and should pass within a few days. Right?

Aether lets out a shaky sigh, gently pushing you back to lie on the bed. “Okay, okay! I won’t tell Mister Zhongli and Monsieur Neuvillette about your sickness.”

You sigh in relief, feeling the tension leaving your body after hearing Aether’s promise not to tell Neuvillette and Zhongli about your situation. Despite never hiding anything from the two men you care deeply about, this is the only time you will hide something from them. Not because you don’t trust them but because you don’t want them to see this as an opportunity to pull you away from this career path. While they may not do that, you’re worried they’re going to try to coax you out of this career. Aether and Paimon exit the room after tucking you into bed; they close the door and trade looks.

“We are going to tell Mister Zhongli and Monsieur Neuvillette about this, right? We can’t hide this from them!” Paimon loudly whispers.

Aether runs his hands through his hair, shrugging. “I guess we’ll try to nurse [Y/N] back to health ourselves and see from there. If they don’t improve within two days, we’ll have to inform both of them about [Y/N]’s situation.”

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ᨐฅ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

A day has passed, and there aren’t any signs that you are getting better. In fact, it seems like you have gotten worse than the day before. Your temperature is worse than before; you’re barely eating, barely awake, and sweating through your clothes, but your hands feel ice cold. Paimon flies to your bed and switches out the wet rag on your forehead with another cold, damp towel. You shudder in your sleep, sighing with contentment when the cool rag touches your scorching hot forehead.

“How is she doing?” Aether asks, peeking into the room.

Paimon shakes her head, her shoulders slumping. “If her illness persists, we’re going to have to take her to see a doctor.”

Thunder cracks outside, startling both Aether and Paimon. Aether peeks from behind the curtains to see rain pouring down outside. If it rained any harder, Sumeru might as well be underwater. Great. Even if Aether were to take you to the doctor, there’s no way he would be able to get you there without you getting soaked.

The rain will worsen your illness, and who knows what will happen? The thunder cracking in the distance and the pouring rain are loud enough to drown out Aether and Paimon’s racing thoughts, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the sound of panicked knocks at the front door of the rental house. 

Aether and Paimon freeze, looking over in your direction. You barely react to the sounds around you— too exhausted and ill to have the energy to react. Paimon nudges Aether towards the door, gesturing to Aether to check to see who’s at the door knocking like a madman. Aether puts on a brave face and marches toward the front door. 

The knocking persists, and there seems to be another person assisting the person who knocked the first time. Great, more than one person to deal with! It’s not the person who rented the house out to you, is it? Archons, Aether sure hope it isn’t. Aether grabs the door handle and swings the door open to face the guests head-on. 

Aether clears his throat, “Can I help you— Oh, Archons.” Aether feels his heart drop into the pit of his stomach.

“Where is she?” Neuvillette demands, glaring down at Aether as raindrops pelt him.

Zhongli doesn’t look too pleased either, soaked to the bone. Aether gulps and takes a step back to let Zhongli and Neuvillette enter the rental house. How the hell did Neuvillette and Zhongli find this place? He and Paimon certainly didn’t inform the two refined men of your situation, so why are they here? 

Aether closes the door after Zhongli and Neuvillette step into the house. Aether clears his throat, watching the two men wring their clothes, creating a puddle beneath their feet. Aside from the cracking thunder and raindrops viciously pitter-patter on the roof, all Aether can hear is his heart drumming in his ears. 

“Aether? Who’s at the door?” Paimon calls out.

Aether, Neuvillette, and Zhongli turn to where Paimon’s voice comes from, only to see the white-haired girl floating out of a bedroom. Paimon shrieks upon laying her eyes on two draconic men standing at the entrance of the wooden house. 

Zhongli sighs, brushing his wet bangs from his forehead and crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s a pleasure to see you two again under this unpleasant circumstance,” Zhongli says, giving Aether and Paimon a fake smile.

Paimon floats over to where the three men are standing and scratches the back of her head. Paimon doesn’t remember informing anyone of your situation, nor does she remember if Aether informed the two intimidating men anything regarding your ailment. The floating girl looks at Aether, only to see him shrug his shoulders in response to her questioning stare.

Neuvillette’s eyes scan the quaint house and clear his throat. “Apologies for showing up unannounced and uninvited. However, Deus Auri and I had a bad feeling, and we had to show up,” Neuvillette said, adjusting his cravat.

“That doesn’t explain how you two are able to find the house [Y/N] rented out in Gandharva Ville,” Aether states, crossing his arms over his chest.

Zhongli and Neuvillette stare at Aether, not saying a word. The silence in the house is nearly unsettling but not as unsettling as the thunder continuously getting louder. Aether and Paimon are well aware that any form of precipitation ties to the Iudex’s emotions. The traveling duo isn’t sure if they should lead the two draconic men to where you’re sleeping or try to lie to the men that they got the wrong house and that you left for Natlan yesterday.

The deafening silence is broken by the sound of glass shattering in the next room. Everyone in the room freezes for a moment before running towards where the sound comes from. Neuvillette pushes the door open to see a glass pitcher in shards, and beside the pile of glass shards is you, lying on the ground, unconscious. Paimon shrieks, flying towards your unconscious body; she kneels beside your head and gently shakes you. 

Aether loudly whispers, “Paimon, let them get through.”

Paimon’s bottom lip quivers as she backs away from your unconscious body, watching Neuvillette and Zhongli kneel over you. Aether and Paimon quietly leave the room, knowing their presence will not be needed as of now. Neuvillette pulls you into his arms and cradles you, caressing your head while watching Zhongli clean the mess.

You let out a weak cough, body shivering when the cool air of the house fans your skin. Your skin is hot enough for Neuvillette to feel it through his coat. The storm outside worsens as he carries you to the bed, tucking you in. Zhongli pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering what to do next. 

Neuvillette continues to stare at you, assessing you from head to toe. “You briefly mentioned Doctor Baizhu while we were on our way to this rental house. Is there a way for you to get in contact with Doctor Baizhu regarding [Y/N]’s situation?”

Zhongli nods, now standing beside the Iudex. “Doctor Baizhu is enroute. He should be here very soon.”

Zhongli removes his gloves and places his hand over your forehead, letting out a long exhale. He slowly removes his hands from your forehead and glances at the discarded rag on the wooden nightstand. Zhongli excuses himself and leaves your and Neuvillette’s side for a moment before returning with a cool, wet rag. Zhongli brushes your hair to the side and places the rag on your forehead. The two men can see you visibly relax and sigh with contentment.

Neuvillette looks at Zhongli after the Liyuen man places his hand on Neuvillette’s shoulders. “[Y/N] is a strong woman. She’ll be okay. If [Y/N] can scare a mitachurl away, she can fight this illness.” Zhongli winces internally. Perhaps that’s not the best pep talk, but he’s trying his best to quell Neuvillette’s worries.

Neuvillette places his hand over Zhongli’s hand, giving them a gentle squeeze. “[Y/N] is something else. I just hope this illness passes by without causing any damage,” Neuvillette murmurs.

About an hour later, Doctor Baizhu arrives with his little helper, Qiqi. Neuvillette and Zhongli stand to the side to let the green-haired doctor treat you. Doctor Baizhu rouses you from your sleep for a check-up and medication. Qiqi sits beside you, letting you lean against her as the green-haired Doctor checks your vitals.

After your checkup, Doctor Baizhu hands Zhongli a bottle of medication. “Make sure [Y/N] takes her medications every six hours. Do not let her take it on an empty stomach, as it may cause nausea. I do not recommend traveling while in such conditions; she can start traveling within a week as long as her illness subsides.”

Neuvillette raises his hand. “If you don’t mind me asking, Doctor Baizhu, do you know when [Y/N] will regain consciousness?”

Doctor Baizhu pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and strokes his chin. “That, I do not know. I want you to remember, Mister Neuvillette, that [Y/N]’s symptoms are quite severe. She needs all of the rest she can get.”

If Neuvillette had ears, they would be drooping. Zhongli squeezes Neuvillette’s hands, giving him a reassuring smile. Qiqi waddles up to the two men, handing them a piece of paper. Zhongli blinks and unfolds the paper to see a list of items you’re allowed and not allowed to eat. 

Qiqi returns to your side and gently pats your head, saying, “Get well soon, [Y/N].”

Doctor Baizhu and Qiqi bid the two men farewell before exiting the rental house. Doctor Baizhu and Qiqi stop in their tracks. The green-haired Doctor chuckles and looks at Zhongli and Neuvillette, who look at them quizzically. 

“It looks like [Y/N] has a visitor,” Doctor Baizhu gestures to the floating anemo fungus.

The floating anemo fungus nervously floats towards Zhongli and Neuvillette, drenched in the rain. Zhongli and Neuvillette can’t tell whether the floating anemo fungus is shivering due to being soaked or because they intimidate the creature. 

After bidding Doctor Baizhu and Qiqi goodbye, Neuvillette and Zhongli close the front door. The shivering floating anemo fungus squeaks, looking at Zhongli and Neuvillette. Zhongli and Neuvillette return to your room with the floating anemo fungus close behind. When they open the door, the floating anemo fungus makes its way to your bed. 

It squeaks, gently nudging at your face. Zhongli steps forward, ready to snatch the floating anemo fungus away from you to prevent it from disturbing your very much-needed sleep, but Neuvillette stops Zhongli. The (now dry) floating anemo fungus makes its way under the blanket to snuggle up against you, providing comfort. Just when Zhongli and Neuvillette assume they’re going to be the ones to snuggle you as you sleep, a floating anemo fungus decides to take their spot instead.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ᨐฅ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

The very next day, you wake up to be sandwiched between Zhongli and Neuvillette with the floating anemo fungus you nursed back to health lying on your chest. While you’re still sick, you are feeling much better compared to the day before. However, that doesn’t stop Zhongli and Neuvillette from being your temporary caretakers.

“Dearest, you must drink this ginger tea. It’ll soothe your sore throat,” Zhongli says, placing the cup of hot ginger tea in front of you.

You scrunch your face, hesitant to drink the tea Zhongli brewed for you. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Zhongli brewing tea for your sore throat! It’s the taste that you can’t handle! You have tried ginger tea in the past (yes, also brewed by Zhongli), and it ended up not being your cup of tea. 

“I don’t like the taste…” You mumble, hugging the floating anemo fungus to your chest.

Neuvillette sighs, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Would you like to drink warm water instead?”

Your eyes light up, immediately agreeing to drink warm water over ginger tea. Zhongli sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. You give Zhongli a sympathetic look and then at Neuvillette, who tucks your hair behind your ears. 

“I’ll drink both the warm water and ginger tea if it’ll make you two feel better,” you suggest.

Neuvillette shakes his head, “No, no. If you prefer to drink warm water to soothe your sore throat, then that is what you will be drinking. Do not force yourself to drink something you can’t stomach.”

Zhongli sighs in defeat. “Alright, if that is what you wish, I will make Bamboo Shoot Soup for you to eat.”

Neuvillette looks at Zhongli, confused. Before Zhongli can leave the room, Neuvillette gets up from the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. Zhongli raises his eyebrows at Neuvillette, who approaches him. You and the floating anemo fungus awkwardly sit there, watching Neuvillete and Zhongli have a stare-down. They’re not going to start arguing with each other, are they? You’re not in the mood to deal with any quarrels.

“I was going to make Consomme Purete for her to eat,” Neuvillette mutters to Zhongli.

Zhongli raises an eyebrow at the Chief Justice of Fontaine. “Oh? She’s going to be drinking warm water, as you have suggested. [Y/N] loves my signature dish, and I believe the soup will fill her stomach and give her plenty of nutrients.”

Neuvillette frowns. “Are you implying my Consomme Purete lacks nutrients and won’t fill her stomach?” Neuvillette props his hands on his hips.

Oh, dear Archons. 

“Neuvillette, that is not what I’m implying.”

“Oh, really? Then what are you implying then?”

Zhongli hands the paper over to Neuvillette. “I’m following Doctor Baizhu and Miss Qiqi’s orders. Miss Qiqi specifically said to feed [Y/N] food with plenty of nutrients.”

Neuvillette takes the paper but doesn’t read it. “You are still implying that my Consomme Purete doesn’t contain enough nutrients for her to eat.”

“Dear Archons.” Zhongli sighs, rubbing his temples.

You cough to grab their attention, only to cough up phlegm, nearly choking on it. Neuvillette and Zhongli are by your side almost immediately, making sure you’re okay and not choking on the phlegm. 

You slump in your spot and hug the floating anemo fungus to your chest, sighing. “I will eat both the Bamboo Shoot Soup and Consomme Purete. I haven’t been eating well, and I believe both of your dishes will not only fill up my appetite but also provide me with copious amounts of nutrients.”

Thankfully, that is something both Zhongli and Neuvillette end up agreeing on. You managed to finish the Bamboo Shoot Soup and Consomme Purete, making both your lovers proud and relieved. Zhongli makes sure you take your medication, and Neuvillette provides more warm water to drink with your medication. Your stomach didn’t churn when you took the medication, thankfully. 

By the time it’s nightfall, both Zhongli and Neuvillette are in their dragon forms, taking up all the space on the bed. Zhongli and Neuvillette are curled into a half circle with you between them. You close your eyes and rest your head on Zhongli’s body, feeling Zhongli and Neuvillette curling and wrapping around you. 

As you slowly doze off, you hug the floating anemo fungus tightly while Zhongli and Neuvillette each take turns pressing their nose against your head— kissing your head but in their dragon forms.

“Thank you three for being here.” You whisper, shivering.

Neuvillette flicks his tail, draping the blanket over your and their bodies before resting his head beside Zhongli. Zhongli and Neuvillette close their eyes, drifting off to the sound of your quiet snores.

Note: I had this commission delayed due to being busy with my university and other things happening in my life. I actually like how this fic turned out! While I was on hiatus, I had this mental drawing board for this commission and have changed a lot of things in this fic. I'm happy with the outcome of the fic itself. Tama/Kacie, if you see this, I hope you love this fic as much as I loved typing it out :) Anyway, To all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Link to the commissioned version: The Traveling Artist's Ailment (Commissioned Ver.)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 / Short Fics and Others Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[s-awturn]

Night Reveries || F1 Dilfs

cw: vulgarity, pure obscenity, consensual somnophilia, soft approach, fetish for compliments, body worship — reader receiving —, use of pet names, dirty language, fingering, eating p-, p in v.

requested ( x ) yes ( ) no

by: anon

a/n: Unfortunately the epilogue of Moon Spell isn't coming out the way I want and I'm very, very angry about it nothing is going the way I want and I can't finish Moon Spell just any way, so I'm going to move up the requests I have, After all, an empty mind is the devil's workshop and I'm not going to let the devil work in my head.. I hope it met your expectations, it's been a while since I've taken orders.

p.s.: suggestions on how to finish Moon Spell?? Plsss

starring: Toto Wolff, Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Jenson Button, Mark Webber, Kimi Raikkonen.

TOTO WOLFF:

The day was dawning when he resolved all the pending work issues, he was so focused on getting everything organized that he didn't even notice the tiredness in his body, but when he finally finished, could feel how tense and sore his shoulders were. He closed his laptop and left his eyes on the desk. Toto wouldn't be available to anyone for the next few days, except his wife, who was sleeping peacefully at the end of the hallway.

Lazily, he dragged himself to the guest room's bathroom, where you and Toto usually left a few pieces of clothing for situations like this, where they ended up working late and didn't want to disturb each other's sleep. Toto put on some light pants and went to the suite he shared with you, and there he found you, sprawled on his side of the bed, wrapped in his pillows. He felt his heart warm at the sight and decided to lie down on your side of the bed and wrapped his arms around your waist, you gave a satisfied sigh and snuggled into him, making Toto feel all your soft curves, he breathed into your neck, feeling your perfume and He ended up grunting when you pressed your ass against his hip, without interrupting your sleep.

He buried his face in her neck, feeling filthy from the thoughts he was having, he couldn't stain the innocence of her rest with his perverse desires, but it didn't make it any easier to have her ass against his dick. God, it made it seem like you hadn't had sex in weeks, when he had made you cum just the morning before.

You moved completely in his arms, and turned to lie facing Toto, wrapping your leg around his waist, fitting yourself as best you could into the larger man's body, making Toto growl softly. Just when he thought it was going to get better, you made it worse, because now Toto's cock was right under you, hardening even more in your heat.

“mein gott” He groaned, pressing you tighter against him. How selfish would he be to wake you up just to fuck you?

It was better to try to sleep, to ignore the stinging heat building in her stomach and the moisture that escaped from your panties and stained his pants. What the hell had he done to be tortured like that?

But his ramblings were thrown into space when he felt you mount him, moving your pelvis against Toto, he took advantage of the consent you had given him and He pulled the lace of your panties aside, he couldn't see, but he would give you all his money if you weren't glistening with wetness.

“It’s almost a sin to waste such a feast, schatz,” he said, licking his lips. Toto got rid of his cotton pants and rubbed his cock against your pussy, drawing cute moans from you, he held you by the waist, high enough to reach your breasts so you could ride him. “You’re dripping in me, fuck,” and with that, he entered you slowly, stretching you around him, his grip making him bite his lip until it bled. In slow, gentle thrusts, he managed to hit her cervix over and over again.

“Toto? What are you-” you fell silent as you felt the thrust harder, hitting sensitive spots on you. “Toto...” you moaned, grinding yourself into him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, love, I’ll take care of you,” he assured, letting you enjoy what he wanted to give you. You moaned again, digging your nails into him.

It wasn't selfish if you wanted it too, right?

SEBASTIAN VETTEL:

Six weeks, three days, nine hours, twelve minutes and thirty-one seconds.

This was the time that you and Sebastian had not seen each other, the racing season was in full swing, Seb was still at the top with an impeccable performance, and your job didn't allow you to accompany him on his trips. All this distance was driving you both crazy, he couldn't wait to be home again, enjoying the two weeks of summer vacation allowed. He couldn't even think about anything other than you, nothing else was occupying the pilot's mind as he parked in the garage of the house you shared.

But since nothing was perfect, he had only managed to return in the middle of the night, it was around four in the morning and he would find you sleeping soundly. With that in mind, he went straight to the bathroom, since sleeping with you was all he had left. Sebastian took a quick shower and returned to the room wearing only a towel, to see you in nothing but his shirt, his heart clenched with the longing he felt for everything about you: your loud, spontaneous laugh, the way you frowned when you read, your unique habits. He missed the way you hugged him or ran your nails down his back. Of everything.

He put on a pair of sweatpants and lay down with you, at the same time you literally trapped him between your legs, thinking he was his pillow. Sebastian's hips fitted into yours, exactly where he needed them.

You sighed sleepily and moved your pelvis, rubbing yourself against him. He muffled his heavy breathing, wrapping his arm around your waist as you buried your face in his neck, as if the scent of his soap — that you wore every day he was away — would be different on his skin. He pressed you tighter against him, feeling you grind your pussy against his half-pumped cock.

“scheiße, puppe” (fuck, doll) he swore in German, biting her lip hard. “you’re not making this easy for me, love,” he murmured, holding you.

He took a deep breath, trying not to let it affect him any more than it already did, but feeling the familiar heat of your pussy against his cock was melting his neurons.

That was something common between you, you and Sebastian had already woken each other up several times with sex, and he considered waking you up this way.

But shit, it was too early for him to wake you up and there he was, hard as a rock and you were rubbing yourself against him without knowing it.

He tried to distract himself, not to think about you grinding against him, the wet spot spreading across his pants as you moved against him, your heat radiating off him, as if the sweatshirt was nothing between the two of you. Sebastian drew circles on her thigh, not even close to feeling as sleepy as he should, and slowly he slid his fingers across her skin until he reached the elastic of her panties and without much difficulty, Sebastian tore the seam of her panties, giving him easier access to her folds.

And by God, you were dripping.

He slid his fingers between your labia, groaning at how slippery you felt, accepting his touch so well.

“oh my god, baby, you’re killing me,” he said, playing with your clit, feeling you thrust your hips into him. “okay, okay, I got you, puppe.”

He gave up on maintaining his composure — if ripping your panties and fingering you wasn't already inelegant — and pulled down the waistband of the sweatpants he was wearing, he used it as a relief when freed from the restraint of the clothing, he let you rub yourself against him, letting your soaking wet pussy lick his cock. You breathed heavily, moaning sweetly as she ground your clit against the glans of his penis. Sebastian helped you mount his cock, sniffing in your ear as you slid down his shaft until your hips were joined.

“like this, love” he slid until only the head of his cock was inside you, smiling evilly as you wiggled, still fast asleep. He thrust slowly, feeling you slowly open around him. “your sweet pussy already has the shape of my cock, doesn’t it puppe?” he asked rhetorically, increasing his thrusts as her moans became more frequent. You whimpered, digging your nails into his back, rubbing yourself against him, feeling the friction of his hips against your clit making you even more horny. You tightened around him and Sebastian literally growled in your ear.

“Seb” now you were wide awake, wanting him to go faster, harder. “Seb, mhmm, please”

“whatever you want, puppe, anything” Sebastian growled, this time the sound of the clash between you echoed through the room. “i missed you so much, baby.”

“me too, me too,” you stuttered, wiggling your hips.

You two didn't stop, not even when the sun came up in the sky, after all, you had weeks of longing to appease.

FERNANDO ALONSO:

He sat up in bed, in disbelief at what had just happened. At forty-something, Fernando had come in his sleep, just like a teenager going through puberty. If he wasn't so pissed off, he would have certainly laughed at how absurd the situation was, he looked at the state of his underwear, completely wet with cum; he could blame himself, mainly because his last thoughts before going to sleep involved you, in situations that couldn't be talked about at family lunch. So it was your fault.

You were the one who made him have a wet dream and made him cum while he was still asleep. He got up, furious with rage, and went to take a cold shower, to try to get rid of the heat that had taken hold of him, and even under the cold jet of water, nothing could lower his extremely hard cock. Quite the opposite, it only left him cold and angrier. “i don't have fifteen fucking years left to masturbate in the shower, shit” he complained to himself, feeling his cock throb and resting his head on the cold bathroom tile. Fresh memories of the dream came back to him, your soft mouth welcoming him so well as he fucked your throat until he heard you choke.

“Fuck” he complained, getting out of the shower, the cold water didn’t help at all, the only thing that would calm him down was you, sitting on him until you both came. He barely dried himself and went to the bedroom, finding you asleep between the blankets, you hated pajamas and any nightwear, so you slept almost naked, if it weren't for your panties. Fernando grunted as he climbed onto the bed, not caring about wetting the bed, he wanted to eat you, so that's what he would do, after all he had your consent since you started dating.

Somnophilia was your favorite fetish, much to his surprise.

He kissed your body sloppily, leaving small marks on your belly, thighs and breasts, but none of this interrupted your sleep, you remained asleep as if nothing was happening. Fernando bit and sucked your nipples until you spoke, nothing he could understand, then he continued, moving his hands down your waist until he got rid of your panties, the Spaniard opened his legs a little to look at your sex, slightly wet and that could get soaked in a few minutes with his mere touch. He dragged you to the edge of the bed and literally buried his face between your thighs, growling at the scent of you. No other woman had such an effect on him as you did, you could make Fernando excited just with your doe-like gaze, your scent then, drove him crazy.

He wasn't gentle, so what if you woke up? Then he would have an opportunity to fuck you hard, just like he did in the dream. Fernando grabbed her legs tightly, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her thighs and in the roughest way possible, he ate your pussy. Licks, sucks and even light bites were given, making you writhe in your sleep, he could hear your confused moans, but that didn't stop him, the pilot kept eating you until you were grinding on his face, wanting more kisses, more bites. You didn't care much about the pain, quite the opposite, you loved it when he was rougher.

“Nando?” you woke up confused, finding your boyfriend between your legs, his mouth still glued to your pussy. Your eyes rolled back in your head and you fell back onto the bed. “w-what hap-happened?”

“nothing,” he grunted without pulling away, you wiggled in his mouth, sighing in pleasure as you felt his tongue on you, where you needed it most. “I'm enjoying my privileges of being able to fuck my little whore whenever I want”

You trembled, about to cum, but he pulled away and pulled you to your knees in front of him, your face level with his hard cock. You looked at his hard penis and then at Fernando, he traced the outline of your lips with his thumb and stuck his finger in your mouth “suck”

And you obeyed, wrapping his thumb with his tongue, as if it were his cock in his mouth. Fernando got even harder, if that was possible.

“good girl” he praised before slamming his cock into her lips, “open your mouth for me, tesoro”

JENSON BUTTON:

Once again, you obeyed, and damn, who said dreams don't come true?

As he had done for years, Jenson woke up in the early hours of the morning to get some exercise, he liked to spend his time on the treadmill or hitting the sandbag in the small gym you kept at home. He lost count of how many times he called you to train with him, but you were not a morning person and you would never trade a few extra hours of sleep for morning workouts.

It was close to nine in the morning when he returned to the suite you shared, his plans were simple: set out some clothes, take a shower and let you sleep as much as you wanted, but when he entered the room, nothing went according to his plans.

Because, you see, Jenson had just had an intense workout and He was bursting with endorphins and serotonin, but none of that compared to the way his body reacted to seeing you sleeping. Clinging to his pillow, with the sheets piled up on her hips, wearing nothing but socks. Nothing special, right? Not for Jenson, fuck it, he didn't need much to get hard and ready for you, just like a boy in puberty.

He tried to push away the dirty thoughts that permeated his mind, not that the two of you were against somnophilia, but you had never actually tried it. He remembered an old conversation between you about achievable fetishes.

“being woken up with sex” he said simply and your eyes widened as you bit the straw of your gin and tonic, that made you think. You never stopped to think about that and the prospect of waking up to Jenson fucking you made you squirm in your seat. “what does that look like to you?”

“interesting, we can try it someday... but we need to establish signals so we can understand when this will be well received by the other person”

“fair, what do you suggest?”

Having a good night's sleep was the main point, and the absence of clothes, since you were both fans of pajamas. He took two long steps towards the bed and confirmed his theory by lifting the sheet, except for your socks (because you hated sleeping with cold feet), you were completely naked. He cursed in a grunt and Jenson felt his erection throb.

“fuck, peach” he cursed and kicked his sneakers away, and his workout clothes followed suit, he also threw the sheets away and gazed at his sleeping figure, your breasts crushed against his pillow, your pussy exposed by the position you were in. “and one more time i’m going to take your first time, peach” he murmured, wetting his fingers in his mouth before sliding them into your folds. you grunted but didn’t wake up. “relax baby, I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, and carefully, He made you lie on your back and spread your legs.

He rubbed your folds again, cursing as he felt your juices wet his fingers, making it easier for him to move against your clit. You were so responsive, responding so well to him. Jenson saw your chest fill with more oxygen, you gave a loud and long sigh at his touch on you, but none of that shook your sleep, on the contrary, you seemed to be far from waking up; he caressed your thighs before leaving small kisses down your breasts, abdomen and groin, no matter how many times Jenson saw you naked, you were still the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. And he never seemed to get tired of watching, ever.

He lay down on the bed, feeling the sheets rub against his erection, eliciting a hoarse moan from him, all he wanted was to get inside you right away, but fuck, he'd be damned if he didn't taste you. He rubbed his hips against the bed and before everything became torment, he kissed your pussy and placed your legs over his shoulders. Jenson hummed at the taste of you on his tongue, and it seemed to fuel his hunger for you, he spread you open with his fingers and licked your clit until you whimpered in your sleep. Like an addicted man, he suckled your clit until the bud was swollen and shiny with saliva and stimulation, Jenson made sure to rub his mouth all over you, just like you did when you rode his face, using him to bring yourself to orgasm; his fingers played with your needy entrance, feeling you throb around his digits, eager for anything he could give you.

“holy shit, peach,” he cursed, licking you with increasing need, Jenson felt you wet his chin to the point of dripping onto the mattress. You were about to wake up, because your grumbling increased and all your attempts to close your legs were useless, Jenson was holding them as if his life depended on it. “you’re so fucking wet, can you feel how easily my fingers enter you? Imagine what it will be like when it’s my dick instead of my fingers.”

He spread his fingers inside you, making you arch your back and thrust your hips against him, your eyes flew open and you whimpered. Not that he would complain about being strangled by your thighs.

“Jense, fuck I-I was-” your voice trailed off as he licked his fingers from your still-filled hole to your aching clit. “Oh my God, shit!” you swore, grabbing his hair and pushing him further against your pussy.

“was what, peach?” he whispered, kissing your folds as if they were his mouth, making you roll your eyes and grind against his mouth. “Huh?”

“i-it doesn’t matter” you breathed between moans “please Jense, please let me ride you” you begged him, shaking “I-I want to cum in you”

Jenson gave you one last lick before pulling his fingers out of you and giving your pussy a light slap, making you scream. He still took his time, fingering your folds, letting your pleasure completely cover his fingers. He pushed his fingers against your lips and you sucked every drop of your juices, moaning at the taste of you, making him groan at the sight.

“come ride me, peach” he pulled your thighs until you were on his lap, the pink head of his cock pressed against your clit, which made you both moan. You were close to cumming, He then, no need to say anything. “ride me until you cum, princess” he pushed his thick member against her throbbing hole. You moaned and he grunted, thrusting in until you felt the swollen head of his cock hitting your g-spot.

MARK WEBBER:

You wouldn't mind waking up early if that's how Jenson was going to wake you up.

He woke up with sudden movements in bed and it and it wouldn't be a surprise if you were in the middle of a nightmare, with your thesis approaching the final stage, you rarely had a peaceful night's sleep. But not that night, Mark caught a glimpse of the time on the clock radio, six thirty in the morning; he rubbed his eyes and prepared to wake you before you woke up in tears, however, a plaintive moan made him freeze in place, just looking at you sleeping.

“Mark... Please” you begged, still asleep. He watched your fingers twist the comforter and your legs close tightly. “Please!”

Your pleading voice made his hackles stand on end, he blinked in astonishment a few times until he came to the conclusion that you were having a wet dream. About him. This certainty made his blood run thicker through his veins, warming his entire body; you and Mark had an unspoken agreement, if one of you woke up with the other having this kind of dream, could and should move forward. Have you ever had the chance to wake Mark up with a blowjob or literally sitting on him sometimes, but the Australian has never had the chance to have you in his sleep.

If hearing you moan his name in your sleep hadn't already turned him on, the knowledge that he could fuck you while you were asleep did.

Fuck, if he wasn't feeling like a teenager there.

He carefully pulled back the duvet so as not to wake you and settled between your legs. The wet spot on your pajama shorts made him smile; Mark lay in the space between your thighs and pulled the delicate fabric away from its glossy folds.

“what do you need, doll?” he asked, sliding his fingers slowly into her pussy. A fun fact about people who talk in their sleep: will answer anything they are asked.

He saw your face scrunch up and he circled your swollen clit with his thumb, chuckling softly as he saw you jump.

“i-i want you,” he replied softly, still sleeping soundly.

“really?” he continued to tease the sensitive little spot, you trembled even more

“yes yes please” she begged him

“okay baby, anything you want” he ripped her shorts and covered her pussy with his mouth. He himself couldn’t contain the moan of satisfaction as he felt his taste flood his mouth. You were incredibly wet and his fingers slid easily inside you. You cried out at the suction on your clit and melted completely when he let his teeth roll lightly over the swollen bud. Mark watched as tears wet your closed eyes and you squirmed more, letting go of the comforter to grab his hair.

“Mark!” you exclaimed, your back coming off the mattress and your eyes flying open, but they didn’t stay open for long. “f-fuck, so good!”

He hummed, letting go of your thigh to grab your breast over your shirt, you placed your hand over his, tightening the grip. You were close, your cloudy mind couldn't identify anything other than his mouth eating you with such desire and your orgasm growing in your stomach.

Whimpering whimpers escaped her throat as he pulled away, his chin soaked with her juices and his dark eyes shining.

“come sit on my face, doll” he lies down on the bed and you crawl on top of him. He hugged your hips and made you sit on his mouth, hitting exactly where you needed it, you held on to the headboard so you wouldn't fall on him, your legs went weak with each stroke of his soft tongue on your clit. You wouldn't last much longer.

He made you move, riding his tongue like it was his cock.

“Mark- baby, I-I’m g-gonna-” you stuttered, biting the inside of your cheek.

"come on doll, cum for me, go" he asked without taking his mouth off you and you gave in, your body shaking violently as you came in his mouth. It took all of Mark's self-control not to cum in his pants like a teenager. He felt rock hard and his balls ached with the urge to cum, but this moment was about you.

Always about you.

He carefully placed you on the bed and saw you smile, tired, the thin layer of sweat made you shine and he brushed away the strands of hair that stuck to your forehead.

“was it good?” he asked, watching the white t-shirt stick to her breasts, outlining the hard nipples.

“fucking very good, love” you replied breathlessly, but your tiredness seemed to evaporate when you saw the bulging mark of his cock against his pajama pants. “but it might be better” and you pushed him on the bed, sitting down exactly where he wanted you.

KIMI RAIKKONEN:

That was one way to wake up.

“i want you to fuck me while I sleep,” you had blurted out as he read the newspaper over breakfast. Few things could surprise Kimi Raikkonen, and you were certainly one of them.

He choked on the tea he was drinking and put down the newspaper, you were too focused on your own magazine to notice his incredulous look. How did you say things like that so naturally?

“what the fuck, Y/N?!” he said a little exasperated.

“why the surprise? I didn’t say anything out of the ordinary, Raikkonen,” you said, still focused on your magazine. He dropped the paper for good and ruffled his blond hair, becoming even more exasperated. “i really want you to fuck me while I sleep, I’ve always wanted to, but I’ve never trusted anyone enough,” you confessed, finally looking at him, “but I trust you and I want you to do this, as rudely as you can.”

Ever since then, your request has been plaguing his mind (both of them, to be honest), he couldn't distract himself from your words and whenever he actually stopped to think about it, he ended up excited. You really were a surprising little thing.

At night, you put on your cute pajamas, kissed him and didn't let him forget your request, giving him your best puppy dog look “please, Kimi, I want it so bad” and your lip trembled, making the request even more believable. “you have my consent to be as hard as you want, I will love it”

And with that, you rolled over and fell asleep almost instantly, leaving him awake with a hundred questions and an aching erection between his legs. Kimi watched the first few hours of your sleep, her mind still spinning around your request, if you wanted it, there was nothing wrong, right? You had assured him that you wanted it. But Kimi was still reluctant.

He never considered the idea of having sex with you while you were sleeping, nor did he expect you to want it. Who would have thought that behind her cute baby face was hiding a little whore who likes hard sex? He rested his head on the headboard, the clock indicated that it was past two in the morning.

He looked at you, your fluffy silk pajamas that hid nothing from his imagination, your soft curves, your sleeping face. You were driving him crazy.

“fuck” he cursed and kicked the covers away, watching you try to snuggle against him. Kimi saw your nipples harden from the cold, marking the delicate silk of the babydoll.

i want you to fuck me while I sleep

i want you to fuck me while I sleep

i want you to fuck me while I sleep

Your request reverberated in his mind as he watched you until the moment all fear left him and Kimi ripped your pajamas, dividing the silk into two pieces. Kimi made you turn over in bed, with your chest against the bed and your ass in the air, high enough for him to be able to fuck you in your favorite position.

He should have picked up on the signs that you weren't so innocent, that you didn't want to be treated like a princess. His beautiful little girl wanted to be treated like a prostitute, how could he refuse? Kimi grabbed your hips and brought your wet pussy against his mouth, humming with your taste, you let out a cute little moan, without waking up, Kimi loved your taste, loved knowing that no one else left you dripping like he did and all he had to do was give you a few kitten licks and you would lick his chin. He took his time, eating you out until your lube dripped. He ran his fingers through you, taking what he could and slid your juices onto the tip of his member, and without any shame, he thrust into you until there was no space between you both, his moan mixed with yours as you slowly woke up, with each raw beat of his hips against yours, your naughty smile grew. Kimi took your hands and pinned them behind your back, holding you while his cock hit all the right places inside you, you would wake up sore, used and happy. With his other hand, he landed a hard slap on your ass that would leave marks the next day and grabbed your hair, leaving you on your knees on the bed.

“is this what you wanted, pretty girl? to be used like a dirty little whore? just for my pleasure?”

Yeah, yeah, yeah Kimi!” She exclaimed, writhing for him to go deeper, but Kimi held her back.

“No, no, quiet”

“But Kimi-” she cooed, wanting more. And in response he landed a slap on her clit, which made her moan louder and roll her eyes.

“I told you to be quiet, or you won’t cum today.”

a/n¹: oh jeezz, this was 🔥

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi 🙂 could you write a fic about Agatha and Rio both taking an interest in reader and competing for their attention. Who they end up with up to you. Xxx

I got issues w/ wanda stans which ultimately make me hate the character (I don’t want to but you freaks force my hand) by osmosis and I’ll just block you out cuz it’s honestly pathetic to listen to you speak.

You were cute, they both had to admit it, adorable even if they were kind enough to admit aloud. So congrats on being the object of desire of two very powerful and beautiful women. I’m jealous.

Neither Rio nor Agatha were exactly delighted to know that the other was also thriving for your affection and attention. Not. One.bit. They didn’t want to take civil either when it came to you and would boast rather loudly and confidently about how your heart was already taken as their possession.

‘You don’t have a heart to give, so why would you ever delude yourself to the idea that y/n would ever give you theirs on their own terms?’ Agatha said as Rio smirked and shrugged.

‘I do have a heart, it’s black and it beats for them as theirs does for mine, I just have to make them see that even if it means removing you from the picture.’ Rio replied but it only proved to make Agatha cackle as though she was told something funny rather than threatened. She’s had that be the case for a long, long time on multiple different accounts.

‘That’s cute but they were mine from the moment I stepped into Westview during Wanda’s…attempt to play house and acting as their wife,’ Agatha sighs. ‘Let’s just say I was given tastes of them which were sweeter than nectar.’ She smirks when she seeks the smirk on Rio’s lip was wiped off, replaced by a scowl as a perfect visual of jealously and anger overcame the face green witch.

‘Well we’re not in THAT Westview anymore my dearest Agatha,’ Rio began, ‘those memories you may try to hold over my head are long forgotten by them, besides it’s time they moved on with someone with more…potential.’ It was Agatha’s time to look annoyed and angry at Rio as she waves her hand. ‘Bye bye Aggie, we’ll be sure to send the marriage invite.’ She adds sarcastically before leaving.

Agatha, alone in the house she was trapped in for the past three or more years, took a deep breath to compose herself. If Rio wanted you, she’s going have to go through her first, after all you were hers first even if it was under the hex. You were always going to be hers before you were anyone else’s.

Agatha would try to woo you by doing things you supposedly liked during the hex, but once she realises that wasn’t the case anymore and the you in the hex was a charachuer of who you were. She knew that she had some actual work to do in order to win your heart before the black hearted Rio did.

She’d even console in Senior Scratch from time to time, tucking the rabbit in her arms and under her chin as she schemes about how she’s going to swoon you over to her.

‘Flowers did the charm once but it doesn’t exactly scream ‘ don’t make me the other woman in this relationship’ or ‘you chose me once, do that again because it’s the only correct answer.’ Agatha raised the rabbit to her eyes. ‘what do you think? Yay or nah.’

Senior scratch twitched his nose and flicked his ear.

‘You’re right, after Wanda traumatised this town, I doubt it’ll be easy getting to y/n anymore as it is getting a needle out of a haystack, but I’m not going to give them over to her.’ Agatha spat as he mind went to Rio earlier this morning, whispering rather flirty and somewhat vulgar things when told to someone with a particularly filthy mind, into your ear and smiling when you looked at her with wide eyes and a flustered face.

‘You know where to find me sweetheart, so don’t be shy.’ Rio then said as she locked eyes with Agatha as she kissed your cheek, leaving a perfect dark imprint of her lips there for anyone to see.

Rio on the other hand wasn’t afraid to saunter up to you and openly flirt with you while keeping her composure. It came to her as easily as breathing, and besides your reactions always made her smile in accomplishment, so she keeps doing it while handing you a special black rose that she conjured up just for you.

‘What’s this?’you asked.

‘A rose of course.’ Rio replied.

‘I know that but,’ you look from the flower to Rio, ‘what’s the occasion?’

Rio smiled as she walked up close to you, placing her hand over your own as she made you both squeeze the stem of the thornless rose. ‘No occasion, can I not be allowed to gift you something that will never wilt, never die, never look less perfect than the day I plucked it for you.’ Rio answered as she looked deeply into your eyes.

You smiled. ‘Thanks Rio, I promise to treasure it along with the lavenders that Agatha got me.’

Rio’s jaw twitched at the mention of the other witches name but didn’t let her annoyance be shown to you as she smiled tightly. ‘You take gifts from other women now? I’m hurt.’ You chuckled as you rested your hand on her shoulder, cussing a flicker of warmth to flow through her briefly.

‘I didn’t take Rio Vidal to be the jealous type.’ You joked, ‘besides it’s not like I can reject Agatha’s gifts, she can be very convincing.’ You add as Rio internally seethed.

‘Yes, very convincing.’ She chocked out through gritted teeth. Agatha was more of a pain in her ass than she originally thought.

‘Anyways I’ve got to go, Agatha invited me to her house for tea and snacks this afternoon but I’ll see you tomorrow for that abandoned botanical garden you told me about, see you later Rio.’ You bided the green with goodbye as you clutched the black rose to your chest as it emanated a brief green glow.

‘You think you’re winning this fight Agatha, but the wars only just begun.’ Rio spat as she watched Agatha welcome you with open arms, holding you close as she looks at Rio with a look of accomplishment.

‘Come on in dear, I have your favourites ready on the table. Senior Scratch has been missing you as of late.’ Agatha cooed as she booped you on the nose, her hand now sliding to your waist as she guides you into her home that felt familiar and smelled like lavender to ease you into a sense of comfort and warmth.

Who you end up with is up to you. (I’d want both but I’m a sucker for Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey Plaza)

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝑶𝒊𝒍*

Pairing: Felix x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Oral (F), Unprotected sex (P in V), uhm I think that’s actually it? Sorry for any mistakes!

A/N: Listen- this has been in my head for awhile since he likes giving massages so please enjoy

-🖤

Sitting in on your friends couch stretching as you watching him stroll back into the room. “Y/n get your feet off my table” he said pushing your feet off. You roll your eyes looking at him “come on I was comfy” you whined throwing a pillow at him. “Yeah I almost spilled my drink” he said throwing the pillow back at you.

He slinks down plopping right beside you, sitting his cup down on the table he looks over at you. Those pretty brown eyes smiling at you “wanna order or do you want me to?” He asks. You shrug looking at him “I’m to tried to think about eating, uh my back hurts so much today” you say moving forward trying to stretch out your back. “Didn’t you go to the massage place the other day?” He asks eyebrow raising. You nod with a sigh “yeah, it didn’t help much” you say hand rubbing the back of your neck.

“How about we order food and I’ll give you a back massage while we wait?” He asks looking at his phone scrolling on DoorDash. “Lix you don’t gotta I’m just complaining” you said with a grumble leaning back against the couch. “Y/n you know I like giving massages plus you’ve worked how much this week?” He said still just staring at his phone. “Lixie you really don’t-“ you started but was quickly cut off “listen you stubborn ass you don’t get a say so” he huffed handing you his phone “now order what you want”

You rolled your eyes at his words but looked over the food menu. He has a point though, you have been working a lot. These past few weeks you’ve had overtime almost everyday. You would have probably worked today if Felix didn’t call in and give some excuse why you couldn’t. “Alright here” you said giving him his phone back. He smiled as he placed the order “alright” he said with a clap rubbing his hands together. “Let’s go to my room so you can lay down and I’ll give you the best massage you’ve ever had” he said like some anime protagonist.

You rolled your eyes but followed him back to his room, you laid down sprawling out quickly “what if I just take a nap?” You said with a relaxed sigh. He shook his head though “nuh uh I’m giving you a message end of story” he said flipping you to your stomach. He quickly straddled your back before you could protest anymore. “Y/n just relax?” He said with a huff. He started to move his hands over your back putting pressure in places he felt knots. He let out another huff stopping his movements. “Can you take your shirt off?” He asked nonchalantly.

You chuckled a bit “Felix is this your way at trying to see some tits?” You teased turning to look at him. He smacked your arms teasingly “you don’t wear a shirt normally when you get a message” he says trying to defend himself as sweet pink blush decorating his cheeks. You nodded mockingly but you did as he asked. You took your shirt off unhooking your bra you don’t even turn as your breast free. His eyes go wide eye looking down then quickly away. You laugh “come on Lixie they’re just tits” you tease. “Just lay back down” he said still trying to avoid your eyes.

You lay back down getting comfortable again as Felix takes his position again. When he straddles you again this time you can feel that he’s semi hard. His cock laying in between your ass checks. The feeling made you bite your lip a bit head spinning a bit. You moved back a bit pushing your ass again him. Felix’s eyes flutter a bit “are- are you comfortable?” He said coughing to clear his throat. You nod putting your head down hiding the grin plastered on your face. You can feel him getting harder, the way he’s positioned so close to your cunt is driving you crazy.

Felix leans forward pushing himself against you more as his hands push on your back. You leave out a soft groan at the pressure but also at the feeling of him. God you could feel yourself becoming soaked your head filling with scenarios making you even more turned on. You pushed back more making Felix moan a bit his hands gripped at your sides trying to steady himself. “Y/n.. stop moving” he said breathily. You didn’t listen though you moved your body back against his again letting out a soft moan at the feeling of him.

Felix’s hands gripped at your hips, his head falling back a bit at the friction. He was fully hard now cock nestled so perfectly against your ass. As you moved again you were met with Felix pushing forward as well. You both let out a groan at the feeling. He leaned down towards your his body pressing softly against yours. He moved against you grinding his cock against your plush ass moaning into your ear. He left a soft kiss to your shoulder before leaning back up. “Y/n..” he said softly. You looked back at him his eyes full of need but so was yours.

“Let me.. let me help you in another way” he said with a stutter. He moved you pulling your body at the edge of the bed. Legs coming to the ground as he looks at you asking for permission. You nod hooded eyes watched him as he pulled your pants down with your panties. His eyes locked on your heat your cunt glistened with lust. “T-tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable” he said eyes fluttering back to yours. You give another nod and that’s all he needed. He moved down getting on his knees as he gripped your ass spreading you apart for him. He kissed and nipped at your skin as he made his way to your cunt.

He licked a long line up your cunt, clit to hole making you groan. His eyes rolled back at the heavenly taste of you. Swiftly he moved to eating you out like a ravenous animal. His hand coming up to play with your clit as he tongue fucked you. Your legs shook around him as you let out moans making his cock twitch. “God y/n you sound as good as you taste” he said his voice deep. He sounded as if he was almost drunk “I bet you feel just as good” he groaned. He pushed a finger into you making your body jolt forward. He quickly added another pumping his them in you curling them as he hit your spots.

“Lix- gonna- fuck ima cum” you say gripping the sheets feeling your orgasm so close. “Can- can we cum together? I know I’m not gonna last long please- I need inside you wanna cum with you” you babbled out. “Yes fuck lix please fuck me, wanna cum around your cock” you whined out. Felix stood up behind you dropping his pants around his feet before lining himself at your entrance. His tip kissed at your hole before pushing deep inside you. You both moaned so loudly you think the house shook.

The feeling of his girth inside you stretching you so well as you bottomed out. He let his body lay against yours as he wrapped his arm around you before moving. His thrusts were sloppy chasing both of your highs at this point. One of his hands found your breast the other playing with your clit. He pushed deep inside you moving as you felt his cock drag against your walls. You’ve always thought lix was attractive and maybe you’ve thought about this before. For it to be happening though? Was crazy to you.

It felt right though, it felt like your cunt was made for him. Molded to him like he was a key fitting in so perfectly. His cock hit your g-spot making you almost scream his name. “Ah- fuck y/n I- fuck I’m close” he said his movements becoming faster. His hand at your clit moved more circling perfectly making your legs shake. “Lix of fuck lix please right there fuck don’t stop- gonna fuck gonna cum!” You blurted out. And he didn’t. He didn’t stop till you were seeing stars cuming hard around his cock as he road out your high he pulled out cumming all over your lower back.

It took you both a few minutes to catch your breath before Felix leaned down moving your hair kissing your neck softly. “I’m definitely more relaxed now” you said laughing a bit making him laugh too. “I’m glad” he said grabbing a towel to clean you up he grabbed one of his shirt handing it to you. His eyes widen “shit our foods been sitting outside I hope no one stole it!” He said rushing towards the door making you laugh.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta

[itneverendshere]

lovee bartender!reader and rafe soo much, theyre daydream content fr!!! <3 if it takes your fancy, maybe a little piece where readers tired so she puts her pride away and does go to rafe for help (even if only for something very small) and hes just elated, ecstatic, all the words for it! that man is always so stressed, need him to have some peace LOL

she eventually becomes a little less headstrong about his help so this when she finally really understands that’s is okay to need someone else sometimes 🙂‍↕️🫂 thank you for the request! and also thank you for loving them too 🫶🏻

year dark night and now i see daylight - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

You wiped down the bar for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. 

The lights glinted off the glasses, making you squint. You were so tired. Your legs felt like they would give out at any moment, and the tension in your shoulders was making your neck ache, but there was no time to stop. 

There was never any time to stop.

You’d been running on fumes for days now—maybe weeks?—but who was counting? Not you, clearly. Because taking a break or slowing down?

That just wasn’t in your vocabulary. You were fine. You could handle it. You always handled it. You didn’t need help.

The headache you’d been ignoring was getting worse, though, creeping behind your eyes, making you blink more than usual. Your hands were shaky, and if you were being honest with yourself (which you rarely were these days), your body was running on empty. But still, there was work to do, and people needed drinks, and you weren’t about to let anyone think you couldn’t do your job.

You paused, gripping the edge of the bar a little tighter than necessary when the room seemed to tilt, just for a second. That was new. You sucked in a slow breath, trying to steady yourself. 

Nope. Not now. Can’t do this here. 

There was no way you were going to break down in the middle of your shift, in front of everyone. You’d tough it out like you always did.

“Hey!” Your co-worker voice cut through the pain, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was waving you over to another table where more customers had just sat down.

Perfect. More people. Just what you needed.

You forced your feet to move, pushing through the exhaustion as best you could. 

You felt that familiar wave of anxiety, your new best friend, but you shoved it down like always.

You could handle it. You had to. Because asking for help? Letting someone see you weren’t doing okay? That was never an option. Except…maybe this time, it was.

You hesitated behind the bar, staring blankly at the group that had just sat down. They could wait a minute, right? Just one minute to pull yourself together. You’d earned that, at least.

Before you knew it, your phone was in your hand, thumb hovering over one name in your contacts: Rafe.

You hated asking for help. He worried about you enough as it was, constantly telling you to slow down or take it easy. You usually brushed him off. But tonight…tonight felt different. You were running on nothing but pride and stubbornness at this point, and even that was starting to crack.

Swallowing hard, you hit Call.

It rang twice before you heard his voice. “Hey, baby, what’s up?” Rafe sounded surprised—probably because you never called him when you were working. You could hear the concern creeping in already.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hating how vulnerable you felt just by calling him. “Can you—uh, can you come pick me up? I’m kinda…done.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end, like he was processing the fact that you, of all people, were asking for help. When he spoke again, his voice was almost relieved. “Yeah, ‘course. I’ll be there in ten. Don’t move, okay?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, the tight knot in your chest loosening just a little.

Hanging up, you slumped against the counter, finally letting yourself breathe. Ten minutes. You could make it ten more minutes.

Rafe arrived faster than you expected, his tall frame pushing through the double doors of the club. His eyes locked onto you immediately, and the second he saw you, his tough guy expression dropped. You didn’t realize how close you were to falling apart until you saw the way he was looking at you. 

“You okay?” he asked, crossing the bar in a few quick strides, his hand already reaching for yours.

For once, you didn’t brush him off with a quick “I’m fine.” You just shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. “Not really.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in that way that made you feel safe, like it was okay to just not be strong for a second. You hadn’t noticed how badly you needed this—how badly you needed him—until now. Rafe’s chin rested against the top of your head, and you could feel his heart beating under your cheek.

When you finally pulled back, he didn’t let go right away, his blue eyes searching your face. His brow furrowed as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing softly along your cheek. You must’ve looked worse than you thought because the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.

“You really weren’t kidding about being done, huh?” His voice was gentle, but you could hear the hint of frustration in it. Not at you, but at the fact that you’d been pushing yourself this hard without saying anything sooner.

You gave him a weak smile, trying to shrug it off. “Yeah, I guess I went a little overboard this week. But I’m fine now. You’re here.”

He sighed, shaking his head but pulling you closer again, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back, “You’re gonna give me a heart-attack before thirty.”

You bit your lip, that familiar guilt settling in your chest. You knew he was right. You knew he worried all the time, every single day. But admitting you needed help—especially to him—took a lot of energy, like ripping away the last bit of control you had. And control was how you survived. How you kept everything in check.

He wasn’t going to think less of you for it. If anything, he looked elated that you’d let him in, that you trusted him enough to ask. You nodded, feeling the tears start to prick the back of your eyes. “I know. I just—” You broke off, not really knowing how to explain it. “I keep doing this. I’m sorry.”

“I got you,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you home.”

The quiet of the truck felt like a much-needed break from everything, the engine lulling you into something close to sleep. You hadn’t realized just how tense you were until now, with the night air coming through the window and Rafe’s hand resting on your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin.

You leaned your head back against the seat, watching the headlights of passing cars flash by. It felt weird to not be constantly thinking about what came next, what else needed to get done, or how much work you still had to finish. For once, it was like your brain was actually giving you a break, like it was saying, “Yeah, okay, you can relax now. You’re not alone.”

You glanced over at Rafe, his jaw set in concentration as he drove, but the way his fingers held onto you so gently told you everything. He hadn’t said much since you left the club, but you didn’t need him to.

“Are you hungry?” 

You blinked, realizing you hadn’t even thought about food. You weren’t really sure if you were hungry or just exhausted. “Not really,” you admitted. “I just wanna get home.”

Rafe nodded, giving your leg a gentle squeeze. “Okay. Almost there.”

You let out a breath, grateful that he didn’t push. He never did. It was one of the reasons being with him felt so easy, even when everything else in your life felt overwhelming. He never tried to fix things for you, never made you feel like you were weak for needing help. He just showed up—every time.

The minutes passed, and before you knew it, you were pulling up to his place. The sight of his house—your second home at this point—made your anxiety loosen even more. You didn’t have to do anything here. No one needed you to be “on.” You could just…exist.

“You good?” he asked, offering his hand to help you out.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you mumbled, though your body still felt like it might give out if you let yourself relax too much. You took his hand anyway, letting him help you down.

Once you were inside, you kicked off your shoes and practically collapsed onto the couch, feeling the cushions sink under you like they were the softest thing in the world. You pulled your knees up, wrapping your arms around them as Rafe moved around the room, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over you before sitting down next to you, close but not smothering.

He knew exactly how to handle you—how to be there without overwhelming you. He just sat there, his arm slung over the back of the couch, waiting for you to speak or not speak, whatever you needed. And that’s when it hit you how lucky you were to have him.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not really sure why the words came out, but feeling like you had to say something.

Rafe frowned, his hand brushing over your shoulder. “For what?”

“For… I don’t know. For not telling you sooner that I was struggling. For always acting like I can handle everything when I clearly can’t.”

He shook his head, giving you that soft smile that made you feel like the most important person in the world. “You don’t have to apologize for that, baby. I know you. You you don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

You bit your lip, “I just don’t want to feel like I’m dumping all my shit on you.”

Rafe leaned in a little closer, his hand now resting on your knee. “You’re not dumping anything on me. We’re in this together. I love you, and I want to be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, but this time it wasn’t from stress. It was from the realization that he was right.

He’d always been right and you knew it, it just took you months to process it.

You exhaled, leaning your head against his shoulder, “I love you too,” you whispered, the words feeling more powerful now, more real.

Because this wasn’t just love. This was trust.

He kissed the top of your head, his fingers gently running through your hair as he pulled you closer. He wasn’t frustrated or upset. He was just there, in that patient way that made you fall for him in the first place.

"You’re really too good to me, you know that?" you said softly, tracing your finger over the back of his hand.

He shook his head. “Nah, you deserve it. Besides, it’s not like you make it easy for me to help.”

He said it teasingly, but there was truth in his words. You knew you had a habit of trying to do everything on your own, shutting people out when you felt overwhelmed.

You looked down, feeling a little sheepish. "Yeah, I know. I’m working on it."

"Hey," he said, gently tilting your chin up so you were looking at him again. "I’m kidding. I’m here for you, okay?”

Your heart did that little flip thing it always did when he said stuff like that, like you couldn’t believe someone could love you that much, but at the same time, you knew it was true. 

“If I mess up again, just remind me that you said I don’t have to be perfect."

He chuckled, pulling you back into his arms. “You know, you’re probably gonna fall asleep on me right here.”

You smiled, your eyes already half-closed. “Maybe that’s the plan.”

You knew he was grinning without looking, feeling it he leaned down to kiss the top of your head again.

“Okay, but you’re definitely not getting out of taking care of yourself tomorrow. I’m making you pancakes in the morning. You’re eating, and you’re not gonna fight me on it.”

“Mmm, pancakes sound good,” you mumbled, already feeling the pull of sleep creeping in. “But only if you make the chocolate chip ones.”

“Deal.”

Wrapped up in his arms, the world outside of this little bubble didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore

[r3dvlvet]

Baldur’s Gate 3 companions on being given a nickname (Aka Bex’s attempt at getting the voices of characters down):

Karlach: OH A NICKNAME! Mama K loves a nickname. Hey, solider, how’s about I come up with one for you? *pumps fists* EXCELLENT! I’ll get back to you in the morning, okay?

Shadowheart: I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Lady Shar bids us cloak ourselves with false guises to do her work. Fine, you may call me what name you see fit —— [ tees up a guiding bolt] anything but that

Lae’zel: Chk. We Githyanki take great pride in our names and titles. I am Lae’zel of Cerche K’liir and I would bid you address me as such. Although [pause] I see the merits of this Fay-runian custom. A shortened name is easier to call out in the heat of battle. Very well. You may call me “Lae” if it is easier for you, Istik.

Gale: It would seem that word of my many names during my Blackstaff days have reached far beyond Waterdeep. I am all ears for whatever term you have chosen to bestow upon me. Would you care to hear the origins of the names of my youth…?

Wyll: A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet— You know, I stashed a bottle of Amaian desert wine for a special occasion. What’s say you and I crack it open and brain storm some ideas for our companions together? If we can find Alfira, perhaps she’ll write them in a song

Astarion: A what? [ Astarion.exe has stopped working] I don’t know, it seems quite trivial, does it not? Alright, if you insist on calling me something, then I must return the favor. How about…my little Midnight Snack. [pause] What in the bloody world in a “juice box”?

Jaheira: I have been called many things by many people, cub. You may call me what you like- the names do not bother me, we all fade into history at some point and they will call us many more things when we are gone. Just know that I will only respond to Jaheira or High Harper.

Minsc: You hear that, Boo? Our friend has given us a nickname! My friend, you must give one to Boo as well, it is only fair. [listens to Boo] What? [more listening] Your name is only three letters long? Bah, what does it matter! We will still come up with a name befitting of your stature, won’t we, my friend?

Minthara: A surface dweller custom, to be sure. I did not survive as long as I have to allow my name to be besmirched in such a crude manner. A trip of the tongue, perhaps? Good. Do not allow it to happen again, lest your tongue be separated from your fair skull.

Halsin: The title of First Druid sat heavy on my shoulders for many years, I think I would find any nickname much less weighty.

[moonstruckme]

7K!!!!!! And a birthday!!!! What a day!!!!!

For the celly can I please request “frozen peas pressed against a fresh bruise” with tasm!peter? Pretty predictable of a pairing but I just love how you write him

What a day indeed!! Thanks for requesting angel

cw: mention of blood, bruises, and general violence (not being inflicted in the scene)

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 685 words

Peter is lucky you don’t faint at the sight of blood. You tell him as much, which makes him chuckle, which makes you both wince as the cut on his lip reopens. 

He’s blooming with bruises. You can tell they’re going to be bad—they already are bad, but you know they’re going to get worse. You’re doing your best to mitigate the damage with what you have on hand. There’s a slice of plastic-wrapped cheese laid across the less severe bruise on his jaw and a bag of frozen peas pressed as delicately as possible to the darker one across his temple. Peter could probably hold either of these himself, but he’s decided to busy his hands with the edges of your pajama shorts and leave the work of nursing to you. 

“How’d you get this one?” you ask, stroking your thumb close to the one on his temple. 

“Same guy.” Peter’s voice is light, though you can tell he’s hurting by the way he’s barely moving his lips. “I think his main plan was to try to knock me out.” 

You feel your face scrunch, sympathy for your boyfriend and disgust for his attacker warring in you. He coils the drawstring of your shorts around his finger and smiles at you with the working side of his mouth. 

“It didn’t work.” 

“Maybe you should’ve stayed down,” you mumble. 

“That wouldn’t have really been consistent with the whole ‘neighborhood protector’ thing…” 

“Who were you protecting this time, though?” You aim for lightness, but the question falls with unintended weight between you. You rub your lips together, looking at the peas instead of him. “It was a carjacking. I mean, it still sucks, but nobody was being physically hurt except you.” 

“Hey.” Peter’s voice is soft, teasing. He strokes a thumb over your thigh. “You should see the other guy.” 

You expel a breath. It aches a little coming out. “I just…it feels like you put yourself in danger tonight for nothing.” 

You’re still not quite looking at him, but you see his eyebrows scrunch in your periphery. The levity saps from his expression. “Sweetheart, I wasn’t in any real danger. I always make it back, don’t I?” 

“Barely,” you murmur, softer than soft. 

“I’ll be good as new in a couple days,” he assures you. “Super strength and super healing and all that, remember?” 

“I know. It’s scary when you come back like this, though.” 

“Hey.” Peter taps your thigh. You look at him, and he rewards you with a little smile. “It’s not like it happens all the time. These guys were waiting for me. They knew I was coming and they got the jump, but that’s not, like, a regular thing.” 

“I know,” you say again. “I just wish you’d pick your battles sometimes. If no one’s getting hurt, and you are getting hurt, maybe it’s not always worth it. You could at least consider leaving things be some of the time.” You smile back at him, and it’s a bit watery. “The cars will be okay.” 

Peter looks back at you for a minute. You look down, embarrassed—you’re not even the one getting hurt, what right do you have to get all emotional about it?—but you can still feel him studying you. After a while, he says, “Okay.” 

You blink. “Okay?” 

He smiles. Not like he’s consoling you this time, but like he can’t help it. “Yeah, baby. I don’t want to scare you for nothing. So I’ll try” —he sighs— “to pick my battles a little bit. Sometimes.” 

You feel teary again. “Thanks,” you say thinly. 

Peter’s brows hook in the middle, his hand moving up to hold your hip as though to steady you. “Sure,” he says softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was freaking you out so much.” 

You laugh, shrugging and wiping wetness away from your bottom lashes. He pouts. 

“Kiss?” 

It’s an easy request to oblige. You kiss Peter on his top lip, the good side, but when that’s not enough for him and his bottom lip splits again anyway, he says he doesn’t mind.

[slut4menig]

Guys my age

Paring: Luke Castellan x Curvy AphroditeFem! reader

Req: hii can you please write a prompt in which Luke is 19 and reader is 16 and he thinks the age gap is too much as doesn’t see her as anything more than the kid he is counselling, but she’s an Aphrodite child so she doesn’t mind the chase, you can make it smut or not iyw!! also do you maybe mind making the reader like chubby/curvy? i love your work!! 🫶🫶 - 💜 Anon

ofc u can be!!! also omg i actually kinda hate this but whatever… hope u enjoy!

Warnings: MDNI, big age gap, cursing, drinking, use of smoking, reader implied to be curvy

Luke Castellan, a 19-year-old at the infamous Camp Half-Blood, stood tall and pretty almost like a loyal dog, and that made it near impossible for anyone to resist his charm, he’d had a go at almost all of the girls at camp half-blood, including all of my beautiful half sisters.

His unruly curly brown hair framed his handsome face, and deep brown eyes, which seemed to look straight into my soul whenever he gave me a task, even something as simple as asking to clean my dorm, held a hint of mystery. A small scar on his upper cheek added an intriguing touch to his otherwise perfect appearance. Luke is the epitome of a golden boy, capturing the hearts and attention of girls of all ages, young and old.

I’m only 16, luke had never dare even batted an eye at me last year but this year, I came back to camp, determined for a chance to stare into those beautiful eyes and have it mean something for him too. Since last year, i’d started to… well develop. My body had formed into a nicer shape, i certainly grew into myself. My chest was definitely a lot bigger, I started using normal bras, no more training ones. My thighs were thick and beautiful, something many men wished to be suffocated with.

“hey gorgeous girl, you’ve certainly grown up” My half sister Silene winked at me, I only ever see her at camp and I was packing my stuff into my bed. I rolled my eyes and huffed at her.

“Silene seriously? i haven’t seen you in a year and that’s the best you’ve got?” I immediately hug the girl as she chuckles quite a bit at my sharp tongue, we all start talking to our other half siblings and that’s when one of them goes

“hey y/n, you do realise you’re now technically old enough to be going to the bonfire party?” my half sister smirked

The bonfire party was tradition, 16 and up campers, it involved heavy amounts of marijuana, alcohol and other illegal shit. It was an excuse for people to get drunk and hook up and deeply regret it the next morning or so i’ve heard. It’s almost like a “back to school” party but instead it’s back to camp. It happens on the one night that Chiron is away and Mr D is in charge, of course, you bribe him with some alcohol and suddenly everyone’s happy.

“yeah uhh i’ll go, we should start getting ready then i guess?” i say, a bit on edge of what’s about to happen.

As i’m getting ready, i’m being handed a black lacy corset top showing off my double d tits extremely well, i look in the mirror and smirk, this is one of those times i KNOW i looks good. I wore a mini skirt along with it, sure i looked like a slut but hey? what can you do?

I enter the Bonfire, the glow of the fire casually illuminating my face in a perfect light. In hand was a red solo cup with… tequila and some other concoction i’ve been handed, i take a sip and spot him. Luke Castellan, my camp counsellor and the man I was practically already on my knees for. He made his way over to me and looked me in the eyes.

“Y/n? wow you look… grown up” His eyes clearly wandered around my tits a lot more than they should’ve, and he almost looked as if he scolded his self for looking but i wanted him to, this whole outfit was for him

“oh yeah? in what way?” i smirked and slightly tilted my head, trying to seduce the boy infront of me

He cleared his throat and came back to eye contact “You’re uh.. you’re taller” no i wasn’t, it was a blatant lie, i hadn’t grown an inch over the year, i knew what he was talking about and smiled to myself about it.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Luke and I both turn our heads to a very drunken silene who’s perched up on the table, some guy with his arms wrapped around her waist and mouth colliding with her jaw.

And who was anyone to say no to my beautiful sister? Soon everyone found themselves sitting in this circle, bottles of Tequila, Vodka, Whiskey, Jäger and other liquors in the middle of the circle, ready to be there for whoever backed down from a dare.

“Clarisse, truth or dare” An Apollo girl slurred, looking into clarisses eyes from across rhe circle. Clarisse smirked and in return took a sip of her drink.

“Dare” It wasn’t surprising, her choosing dare.

“I dare you, to kiss me” the apollo girl smirked at clarisse, they obviously had tension and clarisse made her way over and kissed her, passionately i might add. The entire circle cheered and cheered.

Clarisse suddenly averted her gaze to me, we’d been friends for a while now whenever I hung out with silene she would be there.

“y/n, truth or dare?” I felt myself nervously stare at her, a group of maybe 25 people waiting on my reply to this one simple question she’d asked. It wasn’t that hard of a question so i gave a simple answer.

“Dare” I wanted to play it safe, truth was too much for me right now, I knew it would end up in me having to tell a huge secret and I just wanted a casual night, nothing too crazy, which was why i was baffled as to what came out of Clarisses mouth next.

“I dare you to spend 7 minutes of heaven with the person you think is the hottest, and don’t try bullshit your way out of this lovebug” Clarisse was obviously feeling happy with herself, she was tipsy as one could be. Actually no, she was just shitfaced.

I felt my body begin to grow weak and i scanned my eyes across the room, except i found one thing. No matter how hard I looked around the room, my eyes were always drawn back to Luke castellan. The man himself.

“uhh luke…” I said, everyone cheered and Luke looked at me a bit confused as to why I’d chosen him. Nevertheless we walked into a secluded spot in the woods.

“Y/n I uh… why’d you pick me?” Luke looked at me as he leaned against a tree and i stood there looking up at him

“why not, they said to pick the hottest person there” I shrugged, trying to come off as nonchalant.

“You do realise you’re far too young for me, sweetheart?” Luke muttered at me in a deepish voice.

“I know but what did three years ever do to anyone?” I smirked, it was time for me to use the powers my mother gave me and capture this boys beautiful heart.

“Y/n i- i was- no! still am, your camp counsellor, you don’t think this is a little weird? you coming onto me.. I mean, you’re hot but” Luke said conflicted with his own thoughts at this point.

“Oh would you shut up castellan I saw you looking at my tits earlier, don’t act like you’re surprised i’m coming onto you” I smirked at him, giving him doe eyes and fluttering my lashes

“you’re such a brat, you know that? you need to shut up, it will get you killed someday, that pretty mouth of yours” Luke furrowed his brows and almost scolded me

“how about you make me shut up?” I wrapped my arms around his neck and whispered this seductively into his ear.

“oh I can think of a few ways” Suddenly I felt Luke’s warm tongue slip into my mouth, his deep kiss sending sparks to my pussy.

he pushes me against a tree, his hands roaming over my body possessively. “Fuck, you're so young and pretty, tell me, you ever fucked anyone?” Luke continued to say as he slipped his hands to the back bit of my corset top

“n-no, i’m all yours” i managed to breathe out, goosebumps trailing over my body from his cold hands unclasing my top.

His hands reach under my bra, feeling my soft skin. He leans in, kissing my neck, my collarbone, as his hands grope my breasts. His hot breath against my skin sends shivers down my spine. “that’s perfect pretty girl, let me take care of you okay?” luke then continued to kiss my forehead and unclasp my bra

He looks up at me, his eyes filled with desire. "You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now," he says, his voice low and husky. He starts to slip his hand up my mini skirt, his hands shaking slightly. “I bet your pussy is so tight and wet...”

i groan at his words, whimpering at the boys touch. “I- do it…”

“I can’t, I can’t ruin something as perfectly innocent as you” Luke looked at me in the eyes, piercing me with his gaze

“i’m less innocent than you think you know” I trailed my hands to unbutton his jeans and i watch his eyes widen

“what did you lie on your book log in elementary school?” he chuckled trying to distract himself from his hard on being revealed

“yknow i hump my pillow most nights wishing it was your dick” i whispered in his ear, i could feel the head flush on his face as his erection was poking into my thigh.

“fuck… pretty girl… that’s so hot, i wanna fuck you senseless, show you what a man is” he collided his lips to my collarbone and sloppily kissed it, his hands making his way to my soaked panties, rubbing it through them

“all soaked for me, pretty?” he looked up at me as i nodded, biting my lip to hold back a moan. I felt him slide my underwear off and crouch down, i felt the warmth of his hot breath against my sticky wet pussy, his tongue beginning to lap it, finding my clit and sucking on it with a pop.

I became a moaning mess, begging for mercy and for luke to continue fucking my hole with his tongue just the way he did. “mmmph~”

His hands spread my thighs wider apart as his mouth works its magic. His tongue swirls around my wet, throbbing flesh, sucking and licking with expertise. I can't help but moan loudly, my fingers tangling in his hair to pull him even closer. “Luke... please...”

He can feel my body shaking with need as he continues to eat me out, his own arousal growing with each moan that escapes my lips. He sucks my clit hard, his fingers sliding inside me, curves up to rub against my G-spot. “Come for me, baby...”

His fingers pump in and out of me in a rhythm that matches his tongue on my swollen bud. The sensations overwhelm me, and I dig my heels into his back, shamelessly bucking against his face as I shatter, screaming out his name. “Luke...Luke...”

As I reach my peak, something inside me breaks. I convulse hard, and suddenly, a rush of liquid gushes out of me, drenching Luke's face. He moans approvingly, lapping up every drop like a thirsty man.

I become red from embarrassment and stare at the man in horror.. “oh my god luke did i- did i just pee on you?” Luke did nothing but grin at me, his wet face glistening in the moonlight

“No baby, it’s called squirting and it was the hottest thing ever” he grabbed my hands away from my face

After cleaning me up with his tongue, Luke gently lifts my legs over his shoulders, positioning himself at my entrance. He looks into my eyes, his own filled with a mix of desire and tenderness. “Okay, beautiful girl, this is going to hurt, but I'll be gentle”

I look up at him, tears welling in my eyes. He smiles softly, "Good girl. It'll start feeling good soon, I promise." He leans down to kiss me, his hips pulling back slightly before pushing in again, deeper this time.

As he continues to move in and out of me, his pace picking up slightly, Luke leans down to take one of my hardened nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. His thumb finds my swollen bud, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. "Luke... oh god, Luke..."

I cry out as my orgasm hits, my vision blurring, my body trembling. Luke doesn't stop, fucking me through my climax, his own need evident in his face. "Fuck, pretty girl, you're so fucking tight right now. I can feel your little pussy squeezing me."

As he thrusts into me, his pace becomes erratic, his breathing heavy. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum, Y/n. I don't know where to put it all," he groans, his eyes wild with need. "Where do you want it, huh?"

I gave Luke those oh so beautifully innocent doe eyes he’s currently corrupting, i batter my eyelashes and whimper as i speak

“I want you to do it inside of me luke” Luke’s eyes widen at the prospect but doesn’t have time and gives in.

“You’re lucky i can’t say no to those beautiful eyes of yours baby” With a low growl, Luke buries his face in my neck, his body convulsing as he spills inside me. He jerks his hips against me several times, unloading more and more of his warmth into my inexperienced core. "Oh gods."

He pulls out and we both lay there breathlessly.

“that was a lot more than 7 minutes…” i whisper sheepishly as i catch my breath and put my clothes on

“i’m sorry i had to be your first time… you do know we can’t be together right? i mean you should really be with a guy your age?” Luke refused to look in my eyes as he slipped his boxers on

“but guys my age aren’t… you”

[xmads-omensx]

Let Me Help You

Noah Sebastian X Reader One Shot

Masterlist

Word Count: 1927

Content Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, comfort, crying, mentions of burnout

Summary: Y/N is always there to support Noah, but what happens when Y/N needs support?

The soft patter of rain filled the silence of the night as my sleep-filled eyes blinked open.

I turned my body over to the other side of the bed where I expected Noah to be sleeping, but instead, the bed was cold. He hadn’t come to bed yet. I rolled back to my side of the bed and reached out for my phone. My hand fumbled around for a bit before I grabbed it. Turning it on, the time read 3:43 am.

This was unlike Noah. Sure, he stayed up late getting work done, or watching an anime with the guys, but he always came to bed. It was like a magnet was pulling him back to the soft confines of our shared bed.

I pulled the soft covers back and swung my legs over the edge. I slid my feet into my slippers and padded out of our bedroom and into the hallway. I could see a light coming from downstairs, so I moved towards the wooden stairs and peered over the banister. The home studio light was on.

Noah’s back faced the doorway as he stared, unmoving, at the monitor’s screen in front of him. His black hoodie hung loosely on his tall, muscular frame. His hood covered his soft, brown hair and his headphones sat over the top of the hood.

The bright glow from the screen illuminated the dark room. Noah must have been sat there for a while if he hadn’t turned on the light. He mustn’t have realised how dark it had gotten.

I knocked on the door softly so I didn’t startle him, but he didn’t react at all. I padded over and placed my hands on his shoulders before sliding my hands down his chest to hug him from behind. He flinched as soon as I made contact.

“Hey baby, you okay?” I whispered softly.

“Yeah I’m good, just working.” He replied with a yawn as he ran his hands down his face.

“Still? It’s late.” I asked.

“I’m almost done honey, just go back to bed and I’ll be there in a little bit.” Noah said with a sleepy smile.

“Noah…” I trailed off with a sigh.

“I’m serious babe.” Noah sighed back. “You need to sleep.”

“So do you.” I replied with a slight edge to my voice.

“Please don’t do this now Y/N.” He sighed again.

“Don’t do what?” I huffed, letting my arms fall from his shoulders.

“Fight me right now.” Noah said.

“I’m not trying to babe, I just want you to come back to bed.” I moved to stand between Noah and the monitor screen.

“I need to get this done.” He looked everywhere but at me.

“When for?” I asked, already knowing that there was no deadline for this.

“I just need to do it.” He sighed.

“Baby look at me.” He didn’t look up. “Noah. Come on.”

Finally, with a sigh, he looked up. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles and his stubble had begun to grow back. He looked utterly exhausted. I sighed when his eyes finally met mine.

 “You need to rest Noah. Come back to this tomorrow when you’ve cleared your head.” I suggested with the warmest smile that I could muster.

“Baby I can’t.” Noah said with a sigh, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. He rubbed his hands up and down my hips.

“Why not.” I asked quietly.

“I just can’t. I need to get this done.” He replied, voice barely above a whisper.

“You didn’t answer my question, Noah.” I simply stated.

He looked at me with a blank expression. We stared at eachother for what felt like eternity before his eyes started to get watery. Without thinking, I brought my hand up to the side of his face and wiped away a single tear that had begun to fall.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But I do think you should get some rest. Come back to this in the morning my love.” I said softly. I didn’t want to push him when he was clearly upset and struggling.

“Okay.” He softly replied, his voice still quiet and barely audible.

Slowly, he began to stand up off of his char and took my hand. I began to lead him out of the studio when I stopped, turned around and saved what he had been working on before turning off the monitor and walking back towards Noah and took his hand again. He looked down and smiled at me softly before we made our way upstairs to our bedroom.

I sat back on my side of the bed and pulled up the covers whilst Noah got undressed for bed. When he was ready, he slowly pulled back the covers on his side and motioned for me to come and snuggle against him.

Sleep found him relatively quickly after his head touched the pillow. I threaded my fingers through his hair as his snores began to get louder as he drifted further off to sleep.

I fell asleep shortly after, comforted by his warmth and breath against the top of my head.

ONE MONTH LATER

I stared blankly at my computer screen as I typed random words and sentences before deleting them.

Nothing was working. It was all wrong. My mind wasn’t working.

Looking at the time on the screen, I saw it read 2:53 am. Fuck. I let out a long sigh and rubbed my hands down my face. I had been working since 10:00 am this morning and had been doing well up until late afternoon, when my mind started to wander.

I needed to get this essay done by the end of the week, and it was already Thursday. Well, Friday now. The plan was to get it done by Thursday evening, so that I had time to refine it before the deadline. Unfortunately for me, I had written about a quarter of the word count before I ran out of ideas and my mind started to wander.

I had thought about anything and everything except the work that I knew damn well I had to finish. I had re-hashed drama and arguments from back in middle school. I had thought about re-watching The Walking Dead for a third time. I had researched and made a list of animes that I wanted to watch when Noah went back on tour. I had not, however, done anything about the word document that sat open in front of me.

A soft knock on my office door shook me out of my thoughts. I turned my head to look over my right shoulder to see Noah, my lovely boyfriend, stood in the doorway with a plate and a mug in his hands. I offered him a tired smile as he walked towards me.

He was clad in checkered pyjama bottoms, that he never actually wore in bed as he claimed he was too warm with them on, and a black hoodie that proudly displayed the new line of Bad Omens merch on the front.

“Brought you some toast and some coffee.” He said softly. “I figured you were still working so I thought some brain food might help.”

“Thanks.” I muttered, barely audible over the buzz of my monitor.

“How’s it going?” Noah asked with a nod towards my screen.

“Fine.” I simply said.

“You sure?” He pressed, tilting his head to the side.

“Yes. It’s fine.” I snapped.

“Hey, you okay?” Noah crouched down and placed his large, tattooed hand on my arm. Rubbing it with his thumb comfortingly.

Before I could do anything, tears began to spill down my face and by body shook with sobs.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Noah reassured as he stood taller to pull me into his arms to hug me.

“I- I- I-“ I stuttered through sobs.

“Shhhhh… Don’t speak. Catch your breath first baby.” Noah rubbed my arm comfortingly as he kissed the top of my head.

He slightly puled back from the hug so that he could lift me into his arms. I hadn’t even registered that he had picked me up before he sat back down on the office chair, with me curled up on his lap.

After about ten minutes, my breathing began to even out as my sobs lessened.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Noah asked in a whisper.

I offered a half-assed shrug in response.

“You wanna know what I was worried about a month ago when you came to get me from the studio?” He said. It was less of a question, and more of a statement.

“I was worried that if I stopped working that night, I would lose all of the great shit we had come up with earlier in the day. That if I couldn’t get that the finished product of that one song to be as good as the very rough demo we had come up with earlier, then the song would never be good.” Noah began, “But do you know what happened after I took a break and went to bed? We finished the final version of Even, and it’s by far one of the best songs on the album, and I bet the fans will agree when the album comes out.”

I let out a breath and brought Noah’s hand closer to my lips, then placing a kiss on the back.

“You need to take a break baby. I learnt that the hard way. Let me help you.” Noah said in a whisper.

“But you can’t help. I needed to finish this literally yesterday.” I sighed in frustration.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s not due until the weekend, right? So let’s go to sleep and regroup in the morning… or later because it is morning already.” Noah laughed, trying to cheer me up.

“But I’ve not written enough to get it finished.” I gave an exasperated sigh.

“It’s okay honey, I will help you get this done, but you need to rest. And as you know, I am amazing at making sentences longer than they need to be.” I laughed at that. “There’s that smile.” Noah continued.

I buried my head into his chest to try and hide from him, but he wouldn’t let me. He gently cupped my jaw and pulled me into a sweet and gentle kiss.

“Let’s go to bed baby.” Noah patted my thigh.

I started to protest but he would not hear any of it. He lifted me off of his lap so that I was standing. “You have deprived me of cuddles all night and I hate it. You need to make up for the pain that you have caused my heart.” Noah said in a very serious tone, but the pout on his face gave his lack of seriousness away.

I laughed and gently shoved his chest. “Fine, you’ll get your cuddles dumbass.”

Noah laughed as well and wrapped his arm around my shoulder before he began leading me back upstairs.

Like that night a month ago, we both crawled into bed and Noah opened his arms for me to climb into. I complied and snuggled my face into his chest. He let out a content sigh and whispered a quiet “Finally, cuddles.” Into my hairline which made me let out a breathy laugh.

Much like that other night, it did not late long at all for Noah and myself to fall into a deep sleep, comforted by his warmth and his breath against the top of my head.