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g1rld1ary · 1 month ago

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our names in the paper - footballer!james potter x fem!sports journalist!reader

wc: 11,151

cw: swearing, fade to black but suggestive moments?, smoking, slut-shaming, kissing

info: r and james are about 24, set in 2007ish solely for the romcom vibes. james is the equivalent of like David Beckham in his prime, all pics are for vibes only, not reflective of r's appearance etc

me: i've been working on this for soooo long i am so happy it's finally done!! if u couldn't tell it's very inspired by early 2000s romcoms and i am honestly so proud of it so praying it doesn't flop LOL

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"James, James! Over here! What's the defence strategy this season?"

If you had to hear James' name one more time you might scream. Unfortunately, you were locked in a room with nothing but that. Worse, you were part of the problem.

"Mister Potter, what do you think about your striker's goal-to-game ratio falling rapidly this season?" You called, begrudgingly hoping for a moment of the soccer star's attention. Fortunately (or unfortunately), his glittering eyes settled on you, singling you out from the room of hungry journalists.

"I think that you miss one hundred per cent of the shots you don't take," He said, smirk turning to something challenging, "And as long as my team is training and working together, I'm not gonna cry over a bit of spilt milk or missed goals. And, as far as I'm concerned we're still winning games, aren't we?" You rolled your eyes, scribbling down his answer nonetheless.

You continued the catfight of trying to get answers for your newest article, keeping the balance of vying for James' attention and showing him you didn't care for him personally, unlike the other journalists you were pushing against. The conference room was full of men and women who wanted to be James or be with him. Aside from the professional questions, there were certainly several invitations to the pub thrown around, and you were sure you saw one woman try and give him her cellphone number. You rolled your eyes again at that, James was nothing to fawn over.

He might be a big shot now, but you'd known him almost all your life. The two of you had gone to school together and had bickered through every interaction since then. James had always wanted to be a football star, and you a journalist. You'd never believed in him and vice versa, both of you taking every opportunity to tease the other or cut each other down. Maybe it was just clashing personalities, two people too ambitious to be friends. The rivalry had lasted past school, and unfortunately, the two of you often crossed paths in your respective careers.

The press conference wrapped up soon after your question, and you ended up lingering in the room trying to finish your notes. James was still over at his podium next to his coach, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and arduously texting on his flip phone. Seeing you hovering by the door he called your last name, sauntering up behind you. You rolled your eyes and braced yourself for the encounter.

"Potter." You smiled curtly, moving to leave.

"You don't have to call me 'Mr Potter' during the conferences, you know. James is perfectly fine, everyone else calls me that."

"Just trying to stay professional," You said through gritted teeth, aware his coach and a few others were still around you. It could cost you your job to snap at him.

"Was it professional when I was your first kiss?" He stepped closer and you instinctively stepped back, feeling the plaster wall graze your back through your work blazer.

"It was spin the bottle and we were twelve, it's ancient history. And do you mind? I know you're some kind of god around here but I have a reputation to uphold," You whispered, glancing around anxiously. James laughed at your distress which only annoyed you further. Maybe he could get away with anything, but you had to fight for your place in your field as a female sports journalist, you couldn't afford to take it lightly.

You couldn't help the physical reaction to being trapped between James and the wall though, your breathing shallow and quick, face tilted up slightly to look at him. You felt a bit like prey, caught in the predator's territory and resigned to imminent death.

"Let her go, will you? She's just doing her job," Remus Lupin said, entering the conference room with his nose crinkled from the smell. You couldn't blame him, sweaty players and hungry journalists didn't make any kind of utopia together.

"I wasn't doing anything!" James cried, hands up in surrender, "Come on love, I was just giving you the scoop, right?"

"First of all, if you were giving me 'the scoop' right now I'd certainly be accused of sleeping to the top by all the blokes waiting out there," You gestured to the group of other reporters still lingering in the hall waiting for any scraps of information, "And secondly, I work for the bloody Sunday People, not the BBC. I honestly think they'd rather I just write about your 'dashing good looks' or a drug scandal than your games," You complained, falling back into the ease of conversation now that Remus was there. He'd been at school with the both of you, growing up to be a physiotherapist, but was always much more palatable than James.

Both men laughed at your plight.

"If you ever need a more detailed look at my dashing good looks just ask, sweetheart. I'd be glad to show you, you know, for your articles." You rolled your eyes at James' attempt to be charming, snapping your notebook shut.

"Alright, I think that's my cue to go," You said curtly, smoothing out your work trousers. "Remus, I'll return Dracula next time I see you; I'm almost finished." You remembered you'd had his novel for quite a while, sparing him a smile on the way out.

"You lend her books?" James asked incredulously, hazel eyes curiously following your figure down the hall. Remus just shrugged, patting James on the shoulder and attending to his actual job, checking up on the players after the match.

James was still hung up on the fact when he returned to the apartment he shared with Remus and Sirius, flabbergasted as he hung his coat on the rack.

"Since when are you two close enough to be sharing books?" He cried as he paced through the kitchen, "Have we not all been in agreement that she is stubborn and hard-headed and annoying and has been since school?"

"No," Remus shook his head, "You decided that, and I daresay she feels the same about you. I've always rather liked her."

James was unexpectedly dumbfounded at the realisation that you weren’t the common enemy he thought you were. Even Sirius didn’t seem to dislike you, always stopping for a chat when you were around the stadium and giving you extra comments with a flirty wink.

James didn’t need to think about you for another few weeks; his team hadn’t played one week and you’d been assigned other matches for the others — he read your very amusing pieces on lawn bowls and chess-boxing, partly because he knew you’d hate the assignment.

You were blissfully apart until one Saturday night. You were out with your friends and a few coworkers and James was out with his. He’d started in the local pub while you were at a fancy cocktail restaurant for Lily’s bachelorette party, however, your groups crossed paths in the depths of a nightclub.

Maybe you were getting too old for them, waking up with sore backs and knees after nights of dancing, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t give it a red hot go. And with a few cocktails in your system, nobody could convince you it wasn’t a good idea.

You'd been shaking what your mother gave you for the better part of an hour before it was your turn to get another round, telling the girls you'd be back before stumbling through a sea of sweaty bodies.

Some gross man who was definitely too old for you obstructed your path, grabbing your arms to make you dance with him. Your face crinkled in disgust of its own accord, trying to wiggle yourself free. He continued to encroach on your space, forcing you around despite your persistence. Finally, a man's hands landed on his shoulders, yanking him away and subsequently freeing you from his grasp. The momentum sent you tumbling in your strappy heels, right into something warm and solid. You cringed, having been there before. You turned slowly to meet your unwitting saviour, huffing when you realised it was James.

"Oh, fuck off," You grumbled, mostly to yourself, producing a quick apology to not seem totally impolite.

"Alright?" Sirius asked, revealing himself as the one who'd gotten you away from the creep. You shrugged, fixing your hair.

"Been better," You told him, preparing to leave before seemingly their whole team had surrounded you, all greeting you loudly. You weakly waved at them, feeling dreadfully underdressed and professional. You were used to seeing them in the stadium and press conferences where you were much more modestly dressed. The strapless mini dress wasn't giving you the same layer of protection.

"Right," You said when there didn't seem to be any more productive conversation happening, "I'm off to the bar then."

"Let me buy you a drink, to make up for the freak," One of the players, Frank, said. You smiled but shook your head.

"I'm buying for several, it wouldn't be fair. It's Lily's bachelorette." You directed the last sentence to those who knew her, the football and journalism professions having considerable overlap due to events and the never-ending scandals and interviews. James covered his face in mock-devastation.

"Not Lily! Have I missed my chance forever?" He moaned, earning some shoves from the rest of the group. You and Lily had been friends since uni, and you'd introduced her to the boys at one of the terrible house parties you'd endured over your three years studying. James had developed a thing for her right away (no one knew how much of it was serious and how much was for comedic value) and had been loudly pining for her ever since, despite her long-term relationship with Dirk Cresswell, an economist who worked in the building down the block from your office.

"I think you missed your chance the first time," You retorted with a snort, a little drunk to have any ferocity in your tone. You both made a face at each other, ignoring the laughter of those around you. You dismissed the group and danced away, shaking your arse over to the bar.

A few rounds later and you were not in your best shape. The girls had been absolute menaces, feeding you shots and deceiving colourful cocktails that actually held like seven standards in them, and you were certainly feeling the effects. You excused yourself from the group to find a loo, bile rising in your throat as you pushed past dancers, not even sparing a comment for James as you saw him.

That confused both James and his friends, becoming used to your insistent teasing over the years. He exchanged a look with Sirius, following you through the crowd and to the bathrooms.

He figured something was wrong when you burst into the gender-neutral bathrooms, not bothering to lock the door behind you. James and Sirius silently fought about who was going to follow you in and check on you; James found you insufferable, Sirius had severe emetophobia and would probably throw up himself if he had to be close to you vomiting. James rolled his eyes, it was his responsibility. Sirius clapped him on the back gratefully, leaving him to return to the others. James sighed, reciting some affirmations before he cracked the door open, calling out to you.

When you responded with a disgusting wretch, James slipped inside, gagging a little as he saw you leant over the toilet bowl, bare knees on the grimy tile floor.

"Alright?" He asked for lack of anything better, unsurprised when you replied with another gag.

"I feel ill," You said pathetically, head hung low in the bowl which James knew you would resent tomorrow. He laughed quietly, getting closer to you.

"No shit, idiot," His tone was light as he began to rub your back softly, making sure your hair was away from your mouth. You vomited a few more times, your body reacting in violent hurls as James tried to be both soothing and as far away as possible.

When your stomach was finally empty you slumped against the toilet, cheek pressed against the cool porcelain.

"Woah," James pulled you up to a sitting position, "That cannot be good for your skin. Let's get you home, okay?" You nodded petulantly, letting yourself be led out through the club, James telling Lily he'd make sure you got home (and congratulated her on the upcoming wedding).

"Can we get some gum or something? My throat tastes like vom." James looked down at you from where you were lodged into his side, legs shaky as you wobbled down the street. He sighed and steered you in the direction of a convenience store, picking out strawberry gum for you since it tasted better than mint, your words. Good you thought when he paid for it, the football star can shell out 2 pounds, makes more than you anyhow.

You chewed happily, stumbling down the pavement as James held onto you, keeping you upright.

"You're so muscly," You said, somewhat in a drunken haze.

"Thank you?" James laughed, patting you softly on the forearm he was holding. To be fair, you weren't quite sure if it was a compliment either. Your words were admittedly oddly nice but your tone made it confusing, drunk thoughts not completely translating to sober dynamics.

You meandered for a few oddly peaceful minutes, neither of you starting an argument or picking a fight. It was a nice break from normal, the two of you even sharing some peaceful small talk -- discussing a movie you'd both seen recently.

Of course, nothing good lasts.

"James!" A voice yelled from the other side of the street, a short man with mousy mannerisms. James groaned beside you.

"Peter Pettigrew," He whispered to you, trying to pull you along faster, "We used to be mates but turns out he was just using me to get team secrets out into the papers." You whipped your head around to look at him. Oh! You knew Pettigrew, unsurprising given you both reported on essentially the same topics, but he had a bad name even in your circles. He was closer to a paparazzi than a journalist, going for the cheap stories and ad hominem approaches rather than searching for any meaningful insights. Simply put, in an already sleazy career, Peter Pettigrew was the bottom of the barrel.

"Later, mate. I'm in the middle of something right now." James put his arm around your shoulder, better shielding you as he tried to make a getaway. The telltale flash of a camera reflected off the grey pavement, making both you and James whip your heads around to face Peter, looking hardly ashamed of himself. After a moment of shock, you both covered your faces, stumbling down the street as fast as you could manage. The damage was already done.

Suddenly you didn't feel as drunk, navigating the cobblestone streets with unanticipated nimbleness. James might've had the athlete's advantage but you were on home turf, leading him through local shortcuts and to the front door of your apartment building.

On the journey over you'd attracted a few more photographers all fiending for a scandalous picture of James, a small mob forming as you tried to punch in the door code despite your shaking hands. James was right behind you, front pressed to your back, holding his Adidas windbreaker out in a position to shield your face from the prying eyes.

You slammed the door shut, the nosy questions and camera clicks immediately muffled. James let out a long sigh, running a hand through his already tousled hair. Neither of you spoke for a while, processing what had happened.

"Make yourself at home then." You cringed as you surveyed the state of your flat; clothes flung over chairs and dishes still in the sink. Your only option for living alone was cramming all your stuff into what was essentially a shoebox, so any amount of mess made the place look chaotic.

"Nice place," James said and you immediately rolled your eyes, snatching up a stray bra strewn across an armchair. "No, I mean it! It's cozy. Very you." He gestured up at the colourful, mismatched glassware in a kitchen cabinet and the beaded curtain separating your bedroom. You blushed slightly; you didn't often take men home, your flat staying a girly paradise just for you.

You put on the kettle, comforted by the familiar sounds of water beginning to boil. James sat awkwardly on an armchair near the window, anxiously peeking out from behind the curtain every few minutes. His reactions told you the paparazzi were still loitering outside.

James took his tea gratefully, surprisingly still agreeable despite all the terrible things that had happened in the course of a few hours.

"Do you have a back exit or something? Somewhere I can slip out and get home?" You shook your head with a grimace.

"Only the fire exit, but that still goes out near the front. Otherwise we're surrounded by other buildings."

"You must be exhausted after everything. Head off to bed, I'll wait until the gits outside fuck off then lock the door behind me. We don't have to ever mention this again if you don't want." The orange lamp light made James' eyes look unfairly soft, highlighting the golden flecks amongst the brown. You steeled your nerve and shook your head.

"I'm not that bad of a host," You tried to joke, "Besides, don't you have training tomorrow? You're already up later than I'm sure you intended to be. I couldn't live with myself if I ruined England's star player by making him stay up all night, you take my bed and go to sleep." You were both very carefully trying to keep things light, not wanting to spend any more of the night miserable and fighting.

"Well, I'm not taking your bed, that's just impolite. I'll take the couch, if you're being so generous as to let me stay." He had a cheeky smile on his lips as he said it, both of you dancing around the fact that in any other circumstance James wouldn't have been allowed within fifteen feet of your flat.

"That couch? No way." You pointed at the teensy vintage sofa sitting in front of the boxy television. It had space for maybe two and a half arses to sit on it, maybe horizontally extended legs if you were short-ish, but there was no way the goliath James Potter was getting any decent sleep on it. "You take the bed. I'll survive the couch tonight."

"Don't be stupid, I can't sleep in your bed. If not the couch I'll take the floor."

"Speaking from a purely medical standpoint, I haven't cleaned these floors recently enough for it to be safe to have your face in such close proximity. Take the bed, Potter."

You bickered for a few long minutes, both of you trying to outdo each other's respect as host and guest, respectively. You didn't miss the irony that even when you and James were getting along you were fighting.

"I'm not letting you go without, that's final." You turned away to go fetch a pillow for your night on the couch when James said something you never ever thought you'd hear from him.

"Then sleep with me."

"Excuse me?" You all but shrieked, immediately cringing as you thought about your poor neighbours.

"Look, it's basically morning, we're both shattered and I'm sure your bed is much comfier than whatever alternative you're planning. We can even go full pillow-wall if it'll make you feel better." You stared at him for several moments, lips actually agape. Never in your life did you think James Potter would be asking you to share a bed with him, and never in your life did you think you'd be considering it.

"Fine."

Twenty minutes later and you were both ready for bed. You'd found James an old pair of an ex-boyfriend's long abandoned pyjamas, stuffed in a bottom drawer. They were slightly too small to accommodate all his muscles, the t-shirt sitting a few inches above the pants' waistband, giving him a very '90s crop top and exposing his happy trail.

You were almost definitely more embarrassed than James. You were in a similarly aged pair of pyjamas, a cartoon of Spongebob over your chest. You couldn't tell if you'd prefer to be in the lame pair that you were wearing or a cute pair -- no, it would probably look like you were trying too hard. Which you weren't. You didn't care about looking cute in front of James Potter, why would you?

He was already in bed when you'd returned from your skincare routine, face fresh and moisturised, and though you knew he was going to be there, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of James Potter in your bed. Tucked up to the chin under your frilly floral grandma sheets, he looked the picture of cozy.

"Don't bloody touch me, I mean it. I want to feel alone in my own bed," You snapped, sliding under the covers, pulling the doona similarly high up to your chin. You turned over to the centre of the bed to find James already on his side looking at you. You let it be for a moment, surprisingly enjoying the sleepover vibes you'd created.

"Okay this is weird now, the pillow's going up." You slammed a long decorative cushion in between the both of you, secretly smiling at the sleepy giggle James let out.

The first time you awoke it was hazy, still early in the morning with golden sunbeams streaming through your curtains. Warmth enveloped you, keeping you cozy despite the winter morning outside. You shifted to burrow deeper into your blankets when a groan came from behind you, startling you more awake as you recognised the feeling of muscular arms wrapped around your middle. It suddenly all came back to you, James walking you home, the paparazzi, you making an absolute fool of yourself. However, James was a portable heat source and extremely comfortable so you let yourself ignore everything that had led up to it, allowing yourself another few hours of blissful sleep.

The second time you woke up James was gone. That wasn't surprising given he definitely had early morning training, but you would reluctantly admit that it was a little lonelier in your bed than it usually was.

You didn't leave the house for the rest of the day, finally cleaning your apartment after much too long. Turns out all you needed was to be embarrassed in front of a guest to get you motivated.

Monday morning you weren't hungover anymore, but you were mourning the weekend that had passed much too quickly. Still, things were running smoothly enough; you didn't miss the tube and had snagged a seat, and your makeup was looking absolutely grand. You were absolutely thriving.

That was, until you crossed the threshold of the Sunday People offices and the jerks from the politics columns started bothering you, as if a Monday morning wasn't punishment enough.

"Meet anyone nice over the weekend, sweetheart?" One crowed from his desk chair, looking positively dickhead-ish in his too-small button-up.

"Or still on the clock maybe? We know you're always hunting for a good story." The combination of both remarks confused you, but you strutted past them with a quick glare in their general direction, your clicking heels producing enough attitude that you didn't need to say anything.

As you approached your own desk area, you had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that everyone was looking at you. You couldn't think of why, but subtly wiped the edge of your lips in case it was foolishly smudged lipstick.

You even swore you heard one of the royal writers -- an awful woman maybe twenty years older than you -- say something about your 'promiscuity' and 'unprofessionalism'. You didn't know where it was coming from. You weren't friends by any means but you usually just stayed out of each other's way, you didn't throw around insults at your workplace. You glanced down at your outfit but nothing seemed especially revealing, the same button-up and pencil skirt you always wore if you weren't doing field work.

You were really starting to wonder why everyone was looking at you when even Lily was sending you pitiful glances. You had just made up your mind to say something about it when your boss came striding towards you, anger emanating in a way which only middle-aged men can do.

"What is this?" He slammed a Daily Mail tabloid down on your desk. The office was dead silent. You looked down at it, wholly confused as to what it could be -- your last article was approved without any troubles.

THE 'INSIDE' SCOOP? POTTER GETS COZY WITH REPORTER ON NIGHT OUT

And there, right under the brazen headline, was the stupid picture that Peter Pettigrew took. The two of you out on the street, you tucked into James' side with his arm around you. Your face wasn't totally visible, but anyone who already knew you would recognise the figure and fashion.

You could feel your face drop as you read the article, a barrage of slut-shamey insults and reports of how intimate you and James were out on the streets of London -- all entirely false, of course. When you'd finished reading the piece the whole office was staring at you, waiting to see how you'd react.

"It's a lie," You said quietly, trying to stop your hands from shaking as they rested on your lap. There was a pregnant pause as your boss processed what you were saying, clearly confused. None of your coworkers dared to speak.

"Bullshit," He replied, face blooming red as he decided you weren't being truthful. "That's you and that's James, there's no denying that. The whole bloody country will be able to see you two getting cozy on the street. How do you reckon this reflects on me, having your name and workplace published alongside your completely unprofessional affair?"

"I understand that it looks bad, but it's not what you think at all. J- uh, Potter was just helping me get home after a chance encounter because I wasn't feeling well, then he hid at my place because of all the paparazzi. Nothing happened." It was a weak explanation, even you could tell, even though it was completely true.

The arseholes over in Politics were already sniggering to themselves and you wished you could have ripped them a new one. Instead, you were cowering underneath your brutish boss.

"It's your word against Pettigrew's, and only one of you's been printed. You've been publicly humiliated and we're getting bad press for it."

Your boss had left you with the threatening promise that the issue would be brought up with your superiors and the whispered opinions of every single person you worked with. You choked out an excuse to get out of the office, taking the lift up to the rooftop to cry.

You had peace for a few minutes, getting the most embarrassing of the sobs out alone.

"Did you actually sleep with him?" If it was anyone else you probably would have snapped, yelling at them for being so insensitive. Marlene said it with such earnest curiosity and sympathy that you turned to face her instead. You were met with her and Lily, your very best friends who you were feeling especially lucky to work with at that moment.

"No!" You told them the full story, about getting sick at the club, James just being polite and walking you home, and Peter Pettigrew's terrible betrayal. Both women listened attentively, taking it all in.

"I thought you hated Potter," Lily said finally, "How'd it get that far in the first place? Usually you'd have ditched him in the first five minutes of being in his presence."

"I don't hate him." You studied your hands intently, observing the peeling red nail polish you should have reapplied yesterday. "I think he's annoying and obnoxious and I've always hated that he's never believed I could be a serious writer, but I don't hate him. He has his moments. Besides, why would I waste energy on hating Potter when I could hate Pettigrew with all my heart?"

"What a snake," Marlene spat, lighting a cigarette as she got comfy next to you. You and Lily both nodded. Peter was not only now a backstabber, but he'd been becoming increasingly insufferable over the years you'd all been writing.

He started out quite nice and was in your periphery of friends in the same way Remus and even James were, but as he'd gotten the job at his shitty tabloid magazine he'd become downright intolerable, always twisting what you'd said both in official articles and when gossiping with other friends. You had all had enough a few years ago and stopped inviting him places. Clearly, he'd held onto the grudge.

At his own work, James was facing the same rumours, though not nearly to the same peril. As he rocked up to his home pitch for the morning training session he was received with catcalls and high fives which made him nervous. No one was ever that happy to be working out on a Monday morning.

"Thought you hated her, mate."

"Maybe all she needed was a good shag to get the stick out of her arse."

"Woah! Can we take it back a few steps and not talk about women that way?" James sent a look over to one of his teammates.

"Sorry bud," He held his hands up in surrender, "Thought you wouldn't mind since you're always moaning about her." James' eyebrows knit together as he tried to piece together what the men were talking about, finally giving up and asking for a plain explanation.

He was met with a copy of Peter's article, outlining the flirty touches and 'electric chemistry' the two of you shared. Scanning it quickly James felt his face screwing up in disgust. Never mind that it obviously wasn't true, what a disgusting violation of privacy. He'd only recently launched into the spotlight, working his way up into the Premier League and then team captain in the last few years. He still didn't know how to handle the fame, especially invasive press like this.

His first priority was setting the ruth straight for his team, explaining exactly what happened and outlining strict instructions not to bring it up the next time they saw you.

"This is going to be a lot worse for her than me," He said, ending the conversation there.

He was correct. Rumours only spiralled from Peter's article. You'd stupidly created Google Alerts for your name; as a journalist, it made sense to keep track of where your writing was being shared. One day of this nonsense and you had all alerts silenced, not wanting to ever visit the internet ever again.

Apparently, this alleged affair was the most interesting thing young British people had ever experienced. The football star and the sports journalist. As you packed up to leave at the end of the day you were feeling sick to your stomach, already overwhelmed by the attention you never wanted on you.

Your face blanched as you approached the dizzying glass windows, a mass of reporters swarming the door. You didn't have to think hard to know they were waiting for you. You retreated to the restroom where they couldn't see you to rearrange your exit appearance. Pulling your coat tight against you and scarf up to cover the bottom half of your face, you plugged your iPod nano in to appear busy (and touched up your eye makeup for the inevitable photos that would make it back into the news cycle).

Physically and emotionally prepared you braved the crowd again, moving through with a polite but firm shove, making yourself a path down to the tube. You only snapped at one particularly rude paparazzi, giving him an instruction of where to 'stick it' as you hopped down the stairs to your station.

You ate a haphazard dinner by your computer, obsessively clicking through the various articles (and now personal blog posts) that had mentioned you. Every link made you feel worse about yourself.

The articles themselves were bad, most of them degrading you and congratulating James. Some had even produced old school photos of the both of you, even a few from your uni days when James was just starting out professionally and you were attending similar parties.

The articles were one thing, at least they usually had to be somewhat impartial. The blog posts by James' fangirls were downright cruel, calling you a slag based on a singular photograph and dragging your name through the mud.

You were drawn from your doom-scrolling by your cellphone ringing, Britney ringtone at least drawing a smile from you.

"Hello?"

"Get off the internet," Sirius Black said from the other end of the line.

"How'd you know?" You exited the webpage dutifully, already feeling the weight of the world's ugly words lifting from your shoulders.

"I figured. First time being written about isn't easy."

"It's certainly making me grateful I've never been so bitchy in my articles," You produced a hollow laugh, "I don't know how people can say these things about someone they've never met."

"That's why we like you," He said, "Mostly, at least. You stick to the sport and not our personal lives."

"Don't inflate my ego, Black, it's just because I don't like you guys," You joked, your mood already blooming back to somewhat more chipper.

"That's what I've been telling him!" You heard Remus call from further away, probably the other side of their living room. Sirius made an offended noise.

"Is Potter there?" You changed the topic, swirling your mouse around the window aimlessly, too afraid to check your work or personal notifications.

"He's out right now, calling someone official -- a publicist or lawyer friend. He's tearing his hair out about this, he feels awful for you." Both men explained, bickering about who exactly he was talking to.

"Yeah, I'm noticing only one of us is getting called a slut." You rolled your eyes even though they couldn't see you, balancing your cell between your shoulder and ear as you made a cup of tea. Sirius' barking laughter crackled through the speaker.

"Don't worry about it, love, everyone knows The Daily Mail is full of shite. Besides, I got that all the time."

"Yeah, in school! Not when you have a grown-up job to save face at!" Sirius conceded, apologising lightly. You shrugged him off; he was not the target of your anger at all.

"James'll be back soon, do you want to stay on the phone?" Remus asked and you answered without hesitation.

"No. I don't want to talk to him right now. We'll just find something to fight about, it's not worth it."

"He wants to make things better," Sirius offered, "He feels terrible."

"Maybe when I'm not so angry at the world." You left them with the offered compromise, hanging up to pity yourself for a few more hours before bed.

You didn't end up being fired over the incident, your bosses couldn't find a good reason to cite, but everyone in the office knew you were on thin ice. Most weren't afraid to highlight that fact. You were really starting to hate the Politics guys.

You just tried to keep your head down, diving into your articles and trying to keep in the higher-ups good graces. Amidst the drama though you'd been taken off all football coverage for the time being, banished to the irrelevant 'sports' you never even knew existed.

The week had taken you out of London to cover bizarre rural events like cheese rolling and bog snorkelling; not uninteresting but a big change of pace to the Premier League drama you were used to.

It did take your mind off of James and the media shitstorm for a day or two though. Being in a small town was much preferable to London, at least for the moment. The paparazzi weren't going to make the drive to find you for a single day when there were plenty more interesting figures to find in the city.

Plus, you were meeting the most interesting people. Though it was no Premier League final, everyone around was so wholly invested and excited by the competition that you couldn't help feeling the same, despite your initial hesitation.

Throughout the day it was just you, your notepad, your camera and the few thousand people who came to participate and observe. You'd already met and interviewed the woman who made the cheese, the previous year's winner and you were waiting impatiently to see who'd prevail now.

The paper was paying for you to stay overnight so you could chronicle the post-event celebrations, and you'd never been so glad to be working late. The key players in the day, organisers and competitors had all convened in the town's old pub, basically heaving under the weight of you all.

You held up your beer with the others despite hating the taste, grateful to be included in their toast to the day. You laughed as you tried to down it quickly, wanting the taste out of your mouth as soon as possible without refusing such a kind gift. Holding the pint up in the air victoriously you accepted the cheers of those around you, including the lovely middle-aged lady who made the ceremonial cheese and the man only a year or two older than you who'd won earlier.

"Finally letting your hair down!" He laughed and you smiled back, trying to remember his name. A glance down at your notepad said Drew. "Can I get you another?" You hoped he didn't notice your eyes widen, not expecting attention like that, not when you were allegedly working no less. You opened your mouth to agree when someone else answered for you.

"She doesn't like beer, thinks it tastes like piss." You whipped your neck around at the familiar voice, mouth dropping open at the sight of James Potter.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You asked, jovial politeness abandoned.

"You didn't remember that my family comes to watch every year?"

"Respectfully, why the fuck would I remember something like that?" You snapped, moving to leave and follow the much nicer Drew to the bar. James grabbed your hand lightly, stopping you from leaving.

"Wait, can we talk please?" You just looked at him for a long time, considering how much patience you had after a full day of work, then shrugged half-heartedly.

He led you outside and away from the crowd, both of you letting out a huff as you noticed the change in temperature.

"I liked your story on the bog snorkelling -- interesting stuff," James broke the awkward silence and you rolled your eyes aggressively.

"As if you read my pieces."

"I do!" He insisted, silently refusing the cigarette you offered. "I've read all your pieces, honest."

"But... huh? You're the one who always said I'd be a shit writer, I've spent years trying to get the negative internal James out of my head! You absolute dickhead!" You shoved his chest, turning back towards the door to return inside.

"Are you thick? I only said that because I fancied you!"

James' words rang heavy in the air, the street otherwise silent. You stared straight ahead of you for a moment, his words settling on top of you as you focused on the orange street lamp.

This whole time, this whole time, you'd been fighting the image you believed James had of you, striving to be better, never being satisfied, for nothing. This whole time you and James had been bickering and trading insults for nothing? And all his flirting... James' annoying charm and ironic compliments and innuendo-filled teasing were all genuine, after all this time? Suddenly your whole world had turned on its axis.

"What do you mean you said it because you fancied me? That is not normal!" You whirled around, accusatory finger pointed his way.

"I don't know! I thought I was supposed to! It wasn't cool to be a sap!" James argued back, running a hand through his already tousled curls.

"Jesus Christ," You muttered, "So what, you thought all my arguing back was just flirting?" James' silence told you all you needed to know.

"Come on, don't act like you didn't like it a little bit! As I recall you were always up for the fight, weren't you? You never avoided me or ignored me. Let's face it, you enjoyed it as much as I did." He stepped closer to you, breath visible in the cool air.

"I didn't enjoy it, what the hell are you talking about? Why would I enjoy trading schoolyard insults with some arrogant, idiotic football player who discredited the one thing I wanted most in my life?" Suddenly you were inches apart, heat emanating from both of you as you fought.

"Like you never said I was stupid for wanting to be a footballer? Face it, love, you're just as bad as me."

And suddenly, despite all your better judgement and every bit of sense in your head, you were kissing him. You didn't know exactly how it had happened, and if anyone were to ever ask you you would absolutely pin the blame on James but there you were, out in the middle of the street without a care in the world.

Every one of your senses was on fire, the smell of his cologne, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his soft curls under your fingers. Everything about James felt like he was made for you, like all the years of you revolving around each other, playing off the other's insult was just a lead-up, preparation for the very moment you kissed for the first time.

James' arms around you were warm, strong from years of working out and protective like a weighted blanket. One hand wrapped around your midsection and the other firmly on your neck you felt wholly surrounded by him, isolated in your own bubble of James.

It was probably a bad idea, but you weren't overly concerned with addressing that fact in any rush. It didn't come as you tilted your head to bring him even closer, it didn't come as you said hurried goodbyes in the pub and collected your coat, it didn't even come as you closed the door to your hotel room, undoing the buttons to James' shirt like they had a personal vendetta against you.

The admittance only came as you lay entangled with him, faces millimetres apart.

"Was that a bad idea?" You asked, genuine self-consciousness mixing with pragmatic anxiety.

"I mean, I quite enjoyed myself, love. Did you not?" James' cheeky smile made you snort out a giggle but you sobered up quickly, hitting him lightly on his toned chest.

"Don't turn this into a joke!" You ordered, "Have we just fucked everything up?" James just looked at you for a minute, taking in the sincerity in your voice and the depth of your eyes.

"Of course we haven't," He assured you. "Do you like me?"

"But--"

"Ah! Do you like me?" He reiterated and you paused, nodding shyly. "See? You like me and I like you. We'll figure everything else out. Start slow; baby steps."

"Baby steps," You agreed, sharing his smile. It really only hit you how much you actually liked James once you'd said it, finally noticing how he might've been looking at you the whole time.

You sent James off early in the morning, both of you needing to make it back to London quickly. You had to get your article written up and James had training. Thankfully there was no awkwardness in your goodbye; James had to rush to meet his parents to drive back by car and you had a train to catch. The only moment of hesitance came as you said goodbye, waving at each other with a giggle as James hopped down the steps. He hesitated halfway, turning to look at you with the glint of mischief in his eye that you'd become very well acquainted with.

In a moment he was at the top of the steps again, swooping in to steal another kiss. You rolled your eyes to hide an embarrassing smile, pushing him back in the direction he came.

"Haven't you got somewhere to be?" You asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. James mimed twisting a knife in his chest but continued down the stairs nonetheless, giving you one last smile before he turned a corner and disappeared from your sight. You sighed like a schoolgirl then laughed at yourself, packing the last of your things to get home.

As you sat on the train, green landscapes passed you through the window and you felt your cell phone buzz from the minuscule pocket of your work trousers.

thinking of u :P <3

You grinned, looking out at the scenery so the people around you wouldn't be able to figure out your embarrassing secret. You felt like a teenage girl again, blushing over a text from the guy you had a crush on.

Everything turned to shit in a matter of hours after returning to London.

First, James' publicist made his statement. It wasn't necessarily terrible, but it really had no regard for you. No statement declaring you both on good terms, no coming to your defence or asking for the press to respect you. James looked like the hero saving a stupid drunk girl, and you still looked desperate for the most popular footballer in the country. You were decently sure it wasn't James' fault, but it did significantly dampen your lovesick giddiness.

The office was half-empty when you arrived, kitten heels clicking against the ground. You said a quick hello to Lily, still dutifully typing away at her computer. You followed her lead, exporting your notes to your desktop computer, formatting the piece and going through edits to have it ready for the next paper.

The sun was setting, sending orange and pink streaks through the sky when the door to your boss' office slammed open, echoing above the cubicles.

"You kissed him?" He yelled and you paled, knowing exactly what he was talking about but not how he knew. That problem was solved when he slammed the magazine down in front of you, no doubt just delivered by the skittery young receptionist running back to the elevator.

FACT OR FICTION? POTTER AND REPORTER CAUGHT SNOGGING AMIDST PUBLIC DENIAL

Fuck. That could not be worse.

The whole piece was essentially dragging your name through the absolute mud now that they had the confirmation there was something going on between you and James. The whole world thought you were sleeping to the top, or for the best scoop, and everyone hated you for it.

You looked up at your boss, words dying on your tongue.

"Please tell me that's not you," He said, grasping at the thinning hair on his head. You couldn't deny it.

"I..." You trailed off, searching for anything you could say to make it better. "I didn't mean to. And I'm being completely honest when I say that the first article was all bullshit. Things have... happened since then." You were already on the verge of tears. Even on an optimistic day, you couldn't have denied that this was utterly shit.

"Jesus." Your boss muttered, beginning to pace. "Look, I like you, you know? You do good work and you're never outta line, but I reckon the higher-ups are gonna be done with you. They wanted you out over the first article but I convinced them it was all speculation. This is proof and makes us all look bad that you're sleeping with someone you interview every other bloody week. Look, I'll do what I can in damage control, but I'd be bringing your stuff home tonight. I'm sorry."

How could he have just left you with that absolute bombshell? Effectively firing you, just like that? The tears had made their way up to your waterline, sitting there mocking you as you refused to let them fall. You submitted your piece and shut off your laptop, angrily stuffing your sparse personal decorations into your shoulder bag to get the fuck out of the building as fast as possible.

The paparazzi were waiting again, of course, like that was what you really needed. You pushed past them, making sure to land an extra hard stomp on Peter's foot, lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile as you heard him curse.

You sat on the tube, staring intently at your feet and trying desperately to think of anything but your current situation. You'd already been approached by someone who'd coughed out "Skank," which really hadn't done anything for your sour mood. All you wanted was to crawl into your bed and never emerge.

You wandered down the street between the metro station and your flat, hands shoved deep in your coat pockets.

"Hey!" Someone called and you glanced over on instinct, senses drawn by the interruption of an otherwise quiet evening. "You're the girl who kissed James Potter, yeah?" It was a girl still in her school uniform, probably sixteen or seventeen. You thought through your options quickly and shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Wicked. How was it?" She asked, chewing on pink gum. There was an aura about her that you liked, not judgemental like everyone else you'd met. If you were still in school you thought you might've been friends with her.

"Pretty good, I'd do it again." A cheeky almost-joke between the two of you, ironic given the shit that it had caused for you.

"We were talking about it at school. Pretty shit how they've treated you. Like they all wouldn't jump at a chance to get close to 'im." You liked the way that she didn't get any closer. Just the two of you standing face to face, divided by the empty road.

"Exactly what I've been saying," You agreed, tucking your hair behind your ears.

"If it was the other way around, if you were the famous one, James would be getting congratulated for getting with you, not ridiculed by the mindless gossip columns. All my friends think it's utter bullshit, stopped buyin' 'em and everything." You could have kissed her if that wasn't tremendously creepy. In five minutes, this schoolgirl had vindicated everything you'd been saying for the past week in a way no one else had.

"Thank you," You said, with more sincerity than you probably should have had for a complete stranger. The girl just shrugged with a smile, nodding before continuing down the street, the sound of her leather school shoes growing quieter with every step.

You felt it in your whole body every time you thought of the interaction for the next few hours, warmth spreading through your chest as you were reminded there were still good people around.

Your other reminder of that fact came with the sound of your buzzer, the laughing of Lily and Marlene echoing off the stone of your building. As you let them in curiously they presented armfuls of takeout, the smell of Chinese food immediately floating through your flat.

Lily took the responsibility of setting out the food while Marlene took control of your little television, flipping between channels until she found a suitable romcom starting.

You didn't speak about what had happened, no one mentioned James Potter or the bloody Sunday People. Yet, there was an air of tenderness that let you know the girls knew exactly what was happening and how you were feeling about it.

Still, there was something bothering you. You couldn't give it a name immediately, only a tugging in your stomach while the girls were entertaining you, but persistent nonetheless.

It wasn't until you were all crammed into your bed, the other two peacefully asleep, that you could identify the sensation. It was an overwhelming desire, a need to write that you hadn't felt in ages. It was the same feeling that had pushed you to be a journalist in the first place, an inspiration you typically only felt watching a magical soccer final.

You crept out of your bedroom, switching on your computer at the kitchen table, squinting at the aggressive blue light. And when a blank Word document appeared before you, you started writing. Obsessively, feverishly, words poured out of you at a rate that hadn't happened since you'd started at Sunday People.

The words of the school girl fresh in your mind, you started an article vastly different from your usual kind. Instead of strategies and highlights you dissected your own experience of the past week, saying everything you hadn't let yourself unload to the paparazzi outside your office (though with fewer curse words than they would have received). It could have been minutes or hours that you were writing and you wouldn't have noticed, eyes glued on the screen in front of you.

You didn't realise you'd fallen asleep until Lily woke you gently with a hand on your shoulder, offering a steaming mug of tea. It was light outside, the world already up and awake. You were glad it was a weekend as the girls didn't need to rush off to work, cooking a simple breakfast for you all to share.

"What've you written?" Marlene asked, the second part of her sentence unnecessary: since you don't have a job to write for. You shrugged, taking a bite of some eggs.

"Just something I had to get off my chest. Might see if I can sell it to someone to tide me over 'til I figure out what I'm doing with my life."

"Can we read?" You made a 'go ahead' gesture, the computer already open to the screen.

A WOMAN'S UNWILLING WEEK IN THE PUBLIC EYE:

How a woman always loses.

You sat in mild discomfort as Lily and Marlene read your piece in silence, anxiously awaiting their reactions. They weren't what you were expecting.

When they turned back to face you, Lily had tears in her eyes, red tones brought out in her skin. Even Marlene looked uncharacteristically moved, not at all the reaction you were expecting. Firstly, it was completely unedited so you suspected it was somewhat of a mess from your midnight haze. Secondly, it was more of a vent than anything, getting your hatred for invasive paparazzi off your chest. You thought you'd all laugh about it then move on with your days.

"Lils, what's wrong?" You didn't mean to laugh, it was more out of surprise than anything else.

"It's just, it's so raw and real. It's so unfair," She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater.

"Jesus, you don't have to cry," You said lightly, "I'm fine! I hated that bloody place anyway."

"That's not the point," Marlene pointed out, "And Lily's right, this is really confronting stuff. It's great."

"Thanks," You mumbled, studying a lamp for something to do.

"Can we talk about James?" Your head snapped back to look at her.

"What about him?"

"Clearly there's been some... developments in your relationship, which we don't have to talk about--"

"Yet," Marlene interrupted.

"The point is that it looks like there's feelings involved now. What are you doing about them? Because if you publish that, it's putting everything out there, and even I can't tell how you feel about James right now," Lily finished.

"I don't want to talk to him," You said quickly, "I know it's not his fault but I can't think about him without getting mad. It's like I wrote; he ends up fine while I lose my job over one kiss."

"Understandable," Marlene nodded, "But if I know James at all, he'll be going crazy every minute that you ignore him."

You had much to consider when the girls left. The state of your career, your feelings for James, everything felt too big and overwhelming to make any decisions about. So, you took a nap.

The rest of your weekend was spent sending your then-edited article to as many newspapers and blogs as you could and hiding out in your flat, dodging James' calls.

Unfortunately, you liked him. You'd figured out that much. More unfortunately, he hadn't done anything to help you out in all this mess, benefiting from the press in a way that only England's favourite footballer could.

On Monday morning your piece was published. Not the biggest or most reputable newspaper, if your name hadn't still been trending it probably would have gone largely noticed. Instead, it blew up.

It had mixed reviews, of course, a tell-all so blatantly feminist would always attract its haters, but you were floored by the support it was receiving. Women were validating your experiences in a way you hadn't expected even a few days ago. It made you not so scared to leave the house anymore.

On Tuesday morning, Remus called you. You had the thought that it might have been James calling to grovel on Remus' phone, but you thought it was a smart enough idea you'd indulge anyway. If it was Sirius you wouldn't have picked up.

Instead, it was actually Remus.

"Come to the media room this afternoon," He said, evidently not wasting time with pleasantries.

"What?" You asked, caught off-guard.

"Just do it. Two o'clock."

"Remus, you know I don't have a job anymore, right?"

"Come off it, you know anyone on the team would let you in. You've got quite a name for yourself," He chanced a joke and you rolled your eyes.

"What, whore?" You retorted, only a little worried it would be true.

"I'm hanging up," Was all he said before the line went dead. You huffed, snapping your phone closed with all the attitude of a spoiled private schoolgirl.

Yet, at two o'clock you were standing in front of the media room at James' team's stadium, questioning all of your life choices.

The room seemingly went silent when you entered, dozens of pairs of eyes staring you down as you nervously stuck to the wall. You felt the derogatory, leering stares from all the sleazy men who'd been accusing you of sleeping with players since you first started in the field. It made you want to drop dead.

James made his way to the lectern up the front of the room with a cough, quieting down the chaos.

"Afternoon, everyone. I'm sure you're all wondering why I've called you here, I've got some things I'd like to address.

"As you all well know, I've been a frequent face in the papers lately, and not for my brilliant playing as it usually is. I recently got followed down a street after a night out looking after an old friend who happened to be a colleague of yours. Now I know that my godly good looks lead you to believe that I don't feel the same as all of you, but I do. And I'd like you all to consider how you'd feel if a man with a camera followed you all the way home after you'd been out for a night with your friends and a few cheeky drinks. It's pretty invasive if you can't imagine.

"Now, all this press hasn't really affected me. However, my dear friend has been subject to misogynistic articles, slut-shaming and harassment all because we were seen out together and a few hateful words from someone I used to consider a mate." You had no idea where this was going, but you were absolutely fascinated. James was more well-spoken, more mature and solemn than you'd ever seen him, though he still had his audience in the palm of his hand with his casual jokes. It was a masterclass in public speaking.

"If you haven't read any of my friend's pieces I would highly recommend them; she's got a brilliant voice and I personally read everything she publishes. However, I'm not here to talk about her work; I'd actually like to talk about her if you all don't mind."

What the hell was happening?

"In the midst of all these articles over the last week, I know you've all seen various pictures of us, including from secondary school. A few come to my mind, our graduation picture is a highlight, but I'd really like to talk about this one." James brandished a printed-out photo you recognised instantly.

"This photo was taken when we were twelve or thirteen years old at someone's party. That night, as you tend to do when you're young and bored, we played spin the bottle and ended up being each other's first kiss. I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm telling this story now, and it's because ever since that night as I have recently realised, almost a decade later, I have been embarrassingly, stupidly in love with her."

Your life wasn't real, it absolutely could not be.

"And though I've done some incredibly dumb things over the years, somehow she's managed to like me back -- at least a little. So I'm setting the record straight right now, she is not 'sleeping to the top' or trying to get a secret scoop out of me because I'm the one who's been chasing after her for twelve years.

"I know I've been rambling on for far too long so I'll wrap it up here, but I just wanted to end this little conference with a warning that if I see any more disgusting, hateful articles about her, you won't be getting another comment from me again. So nice to see you all!"

The room started to trickle out but you were stuck to your spot against the wall, frozen in absolute shock. You hardly even noticed the dirty looks you got from some of the people you'd been working alongside for years.

You spotted James in another corner, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and messing with his hair. A nervous tell.

The room was almost completely empty when you approached him, heels muffled by the carpeted floor.

"Hey stranger," You said softly, feeling way out of your depth. He turned in an instant, smile lighting up his face then melting away as it was replaced with an insecure frown.

"Was that okay? I didn't want to embarrass you but I wanted to step up and do something and protect you and--"

"Have you really loved me since we were twelve?" You cut him off bluntly.

"Every day since, as I've figured out," He agreed with a slight nod, glasses slipping down his nose slightly.

"What about all the flirting with Lily? The other girls over the years?"

"So obviously fake. Distractions. It's never been anyone but you, love."

You could only stare at him for a moment, your whole world shifting beneath your feet. James' face became increasingly worried, brow furrowing more the longer you remained unresponsive.

"If you don't feel the same that's totally alright, I still stand by what I did and I don't want you being harassed for--"

You'd always thought that cutting someone off with a kiss was ridiculously cheesy, reserved for shitty Hallmark movies with grown-up child actors who never got their big break. Turns out though, when you realise that your girlish crush on the star footballer has actually been a complicated love of twelve years, you don't really want to waste any more time.

When you woke up on Wednesday morning with James next to you, body heat keeping you cozy, you were convinced you had to be dreaming. When you eventually got up to check your emails and start your day the hypothesis was only solidified by the impossible email waiting in your inbox.

The fucking BBC wanted to hire you as a football commentator and sports writer. Your dream job at your dream company. If you let out an embarrassing squeal then that was none of your business.

You were still convinced you were hallucinating the whole thing until James came in with his biggest smile and that look in his eyes that told you he probably had a hand in getting your name on the BBC desks.

Even a few weeks ago you would have been mad at him, assuming it was mocking or he had ulterior motives. But it wasn't a few weeks ago anymore, and James Potter's whole, endless heart belonged to you. You weren't letting that go anytime soon.

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xoluvx · 3 months ago

Note

Idea about billie and you being long term friends (you are the shy introvert in the friend group) and while it’s just you two relaxing/ hanging out Billie finds out you’ve never had an orgasm before. Up to you on how Billie helps out

oh god yes this is soooo hot!

"wait, you're shitting me" billie pushed you gently as you tumbled. you were on the floor leaning on the couch looking up at her. you regained your composure, trying to stifle the uncomfortable laugh that was threatening to spill from your lips. she watched you incredulously.

you're not sure exactly how you got to the conversation, but soon enough you'd very shyly profess that you'd never had an orgasm.

"at least i don't think so," you shrugged feeling your body go up in flames. you were wam and flushed and almost stuttering on your words.

"oh you'd know," billie replied raising her brows, prodding the inside of her mouth with her tongue. a pensive look on her face. then she rested her head on her hand, elbow on her knee leaning closer. you looked up at her from where you were sitting on the floor. you tucked in your legs subconsciously and swallowed, looking away with a tight line smile.

"what does it feel like?" your voice small now tapping your thigh before meeting her gaze.

"um," billie leaned back on the couch, closing her arms and huffing like she was really thinking hard. her eyes squinted in a pensive state and she tapped her chin.

"fucking amazing," she laughed looking down at you. her lip tucked under her teeth. then she inhaled, sitting up placing her hands on her thighs.

"i can show you," she almost whispered. her words very matter of factly. like this was so totally normal. like she'd almost be honored to be the first person to give you an orgasm. a present of sorts.

you bit the inside of her lip trying to process what was happening. did you hear her correctly? she could show you?

"how?" there was an unexpected boldness in your voice as you tilted your head, playing with your fingers resting on the couch. you were staring at her. eyes wandering down to her lips ever so often waiting for her response. it felt you were sitting, staring at each for an eternity before she patted the couch. her gaze mischievous.

you inhaled and exhaled shakily getting up taking your spot on the couch.

"are you okay with this?" she asked searching your face making sure this was one hundred percent okay. you nodded without hesitation. holding your hand out. billie looked at your hand. she raised her brows, but took it in hers, shaking it before laughing. you bit your lip taking your hand back as she instructed you to sit back.

you did as you were told, hands resting at your side as she sat closer. her knees were brushing your thighs, as her hand ran across your belly. you swallowed looking down at her hand. her eyes fixed on your face. when her hand disappeared under your sweats, you looked at her. she had a sweet smile on her face. reassuring almost. her eyes searched yours. asking for permission to continue. you nodded biting your lip.

her palm cupped your clothed pussy and you hummed with delight. the simple touch was already sending you into orbit. your hips moved instinctively and it was billie's turn to bit her lip. fingers tapping around your pussy until they made contact with the very wet spot on your underwear.

"fuck," she whispered to herself and inhaled trying to control herself. she didn't want to scare you. didn't want to give you more than you wanted. than you'd asked for, but she let her hand slip under your underwear and the direct contact of her skin on yours sent your head back on the couch.

you stifled your moan. it caught in your throat. as her index and middle finger slid between your folds. the contact with your clit made your lids flutter. then she was reaching your entrance and you were totally under her control. legs opening wider. this made your pants tighter and her hand press harder on your pussy.

"take them off," billie whispered in your ear and you nodded eagerly following her instructions. they were off in a swift, clumsy, movement and soon you were pantless sitting on the couch, legs open for your best friend. her fingers found their place between your folds again. this time they moved with precision. finger on your clit rotating featherlike. she felt your sensitive bud under her fingertips. focusing on stimulating until you were whimpering and panting.

"how does that feel?" her voice raspy in your ear sending shock signals down your body. you felt tingly all over. heat radiating from your core spreading across your body. it felt so-

"good, oh my god. so good," you breathed looking down at her hand. it was buried between your folds, lingering lower until you felt her fingers pushing through your entrance. two fingers gliding smoothly. not all the way, just enough to make you clench.

then her thumb was on your clit and her fingers were pushing further into your pussy, almost as if exploring, but that wasn't it. she was curling her fingers. thumb still on your clit. so hot you were trembling. then you felt something you hadn't felt before. it almost stung and you felt tight. so tight around her fingers.

you sought comfort in her hoodie. fingers wrapping tightly around the soft fabric as she breathed in your ear. lips almost brushing your skin. her thigh practically straddling yours as the pace of her fingers increased and her fingers curled. you were breathing heavy, whimpering, biting your bottom lip. you couldn't comprehend the feeling. it was overpowering. all consuming. the bottom of your feet were tingling, you were raising your chest, seeking release.

"cum, please i know you can," her voice was so sweet and demanding.

"let go," she whispered again and this time her lips brushed your cheek and fuck it. you unraveled on her fingers. letting go. you felt a wave rushing over you. it was foreign. it was euphoric. it made your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"fuck i've been missing out," your voice was weak. your legs shaking. a blissful sigh escaped your body and billie smiled proudly raising her brows in a knowing look.

you wanted to experience that over and over again.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish fic #billie eilish request #billie eilish blurb #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish smut

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creativewritersposts · 6 months ago

Text

delirious state - Luke Hughes

summary; Luke Hughes x reader

Luke gets injured and the painkillers kick him into a delirious state, which is quite funny.

warning(s); mention of injury, it's more fluff and funny, real head injuries are no fun! , maybe grammar errors

author's note; old but good! 4/4 fics done! Good night everyone ✨

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"Luke Hughes left the game and is on the way to get medical help".

This is how the disaster began. You stand in the emergency department waiting for Luke, completely worried and walking circles. "Mrs. Hughes? Mr. Hughes asked for you", an older nurse speaks with papers under her arm. You didnt know you're his wife but you're completely fine with that. Together with his nurse you arrive on a station where you can smell the typical disinfection scent.

"I'll leave you alone with your husband. Our doctor had to sew a wound on his head, two broken rips and a swollen nose. Because of the medical drugs and painkillers he can speak confused. He needs to rest. Are there any questions?", the nurse looks up from her pinning map with all informations, you don't care right now. You want to know if he's okay. "No i just want to see my husband, thank you". The nurse nods and walks back where they came from.

Quietly you open the door, afraid to wake Luke. Your poor Lukey. But damn you're wrong. Your poor Lukey smiles high and looks at you absolutely awake. He has a black eye, a neck support and plaster on his head where the doctors had to shave his head. He looks not good, hockey is a dangerous sport.

"Hey babbbyyy! Nice to see you", he waves with his hand and his voice sounds higher than usual.

"Hey, are you okay? My poor Lukey. Your family will be here in one hour. Traffic", you pet his curly hair and sit on his bed. "Oh yeah. Do you want to go to the cinema with me?", Luke smiles again not knowing what he tells. "You're not in the condition so I don't think", you giggle. It feels like you talk to a child. "You are soooo pretty", Luke does a gesture to show how much and curls your hair with his finger.

"You are pretty, too. Even with your destroyed face", you smirk. Luke is never that cheesy but as long he won't get angry you tolerate it.

"I really wanna have sex with you", he says without warning. It's atypical for him, he's very shy.

"Baby I dont think that works out right now",

"but whyyy?", Luke gets tearful.

"You have an head injury!".

"You think I'm a sucker in bed!", he replies in a stubborn tone.

"No don't get me wrong!", you never imagined you both have this conversation in the hospital one day.

"Yes you do. I'm lucky I married you before you could leave me because of that", his monitor signals louder because his heartbeat gets faster.

"You really need to rest and chill baby", you hope the topic is closed now.

"Just if you tell me you want to have Sex with me too!", you roll your eyes. "I won't say this!", you place your hands on your hip. A nurse comes in and controls his vital values until he speaks out, "Marriage is hard", he huffs. The nurse laughs off.

"We're not married. Before we reach this step you have to ask me!", your poor nerves. Honestly you need a drink to get through this. And chocolate cake.

Luke wants to stand up out of his bed, "babyyy lets go! I'm ready to get some actionnn with youu", he tipsy says. Luke's cheeks are rosy and and he looks like he gets fever. You lovely push him back to bed. "Lukey I love having sex with you but god damn lay down or I'll cain you on this bed!".

"Uhh I love when you take control", he smirks.

"Man you knocked out on ice and all you can think is about this?! and y'all say I'm the cheeky one!", you turn around behind you, hearing a familiar voice. It was his older brother.

Ellen, Jim and Jack watched this amused scenario. "Mooom", Luke groans. Ellen goes straight to his bed, hugs him and strokes his curly hair. "Can I help you with something? It looked really bad!", his mother says. "Why have you to interrupt me and my wife? Its getting hot in there", Luke is outraged.

"Lukey its fever and no sexual attraction, I'm sorry guys, he's dazed from the drugs", you try the best to get out of his embarrassing moment. "Mooom?", he calls her name again in a wailing way. "Yes?", she holds his other hand and focused. "Can I borrow your ring? I need to do a proposal". Ellen don't know what to say. Jim stays quite in the cornor as opposed to Jack. He grins the whole time and records some videos. "I have to send this to Quinn! Made my day!".

"Don't be so mean", Jim replies. "Daaaadddd?", comes from the big boy in bed. Jim steps next to Ellen, looking down to his son. "Why I'm the third one and not the first child? Didn't you make any effort to get me?", he whines. "Can't believe my smartest son asks such a stupid question", Jim shakes his head and hugs Luke, too. They don't care about this delirious state, the ony thing that matters is, he's okay. (Of course Jack will show their whole family these videos later).

#nhl blurb #nhl hockey #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #luke hughes #lh43 #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #creativewriterspostsficnight!

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waitingonher · 1 year ago

Text

ELECTRIC TOUCH — [jason grace dating headcanons]

author's note: i need 2024 to be THE year. 2023 did me soooo dirty. im praying

dating JASON GRACE would be like dating someone from a regency era romance novel…he’s just SUCH a hopeless romantic but he would rather die than admit it.

in the initial first few weeks of dating, jason was sosososooooo shy about pda/physical touch. it’s not that he was uncomfortable, he LOVES physical touch, but he had just gone so long without it that he wasn’t used to it. but eventually, he warms up to it…and now he can’t go without having at least one part of him touching you 😭

when it came to things like hugs, kisses, handholding, etc. jason would always wait for you to initiate it because he was so anxious about making you uncomfortable ?? fjsldfjs

but when you communicated that he didn’t need to ask/wait for you all the time, jason started initiating things more. even still, he occasionally gets nervous to even hold your hand? like wdym you’ve been dating for over six months and you still get nervous doing simple couple things 😭 it’s very endearing though

chivalry is NOT dead,, and it’s because of jason LMAO. he’s the type to swap shoes with you even though you’re wearing heels that are 3x too small for him, but hey, at least your feet don’t hurt anymore!

jason’s also hellbent on carrying things for you, opening doors for you, pulling out/pushing in chairs for you, etc… GOD HE’S SO CUTE.

since dating him, you don’t think you’ve ever touched a single door or car handle when he’s with you.

jason is NOT afraid to advocate or stand up for you, especially if you’re more on the quiet & non-confrontational side. if you’re in a group setting and someone interrupts you, he’s making sure you get your chance to say what you wanted to say. and he doesn’t do it in a way that leaves you embarrassed, he’s very very classy with it!

if you’re a big music person, jason will literally learn your favorite artist’s entire discography so you guys have another thing to talk about.

you guys also have a shared playlist of “your songs” and he’s so serious about it 😭 if jason hears a song that even remotely reminds him of you, he’s going to the ends of the earth to figure out what it’s called.

rip to anyone around him if shazam doesn’t work! he’s gonna send voice messages to your big group chat humming the tune, but he’s so tone deaf that no one knows the song…and his search history is just variations of “song that goes du du ooh du ooh du du ooh” a for effort though babes…

jason’s love languages are definitely acts of service and quality time. over the years and throughout the many battles he’s fought, he’s come to realize that all he wants to do when he comes home is just spend time with his loved ones.

after a busy day, you’ll come home to find your laundry folded, bed sheets washed & freshly made, along with a sweet little note from jason <3

your guys’ thing are writing notes to each other. considering his and your busy schedule, you’ll write and leave tiny notes around the house for each other to find. it’s one of the many reasons why jason gets up in the morning.

he loves coming home to you after a long day to simply melt in your arms. there’s just something so soothing about cuddling with you after a busy day.

it does not matter where you are, you guys could literally be cleaning the camp toilets and he’d still be able to find the fun in it. you’re his home, and he’d follow you wherever you go.

if you play sports, you already know he’s showing up to ALL your games. it doesn’t matter if it’s pouring rain or if it’s hours away, he’s absolutely determined to show his support. jason even makes posters with your jersey number and when you have big tournaments he’ll show up with posters of your face 😭 the refs are SO tired of jason help

i feel like if he really tried, jason would be a good cook.

one day you sent him a recipe you saw online saying you wanted to make it with him, but then he decided to make it himself to surprise you. and it was actually so good???

JASON IN A “KISS THE COOK” APRON OMFG. that’s what you got him for his birthday and every single time without fail, he’ll wear it when he’s cooking.

one of his hidden talents is that he’s super good at origami. he originally picked it up because he heard it was a good stress reliever, but now he also does it for you <3

he loves your reaction when he gives you little paper rings or an origami version of your favorite animal!

this guy DREAMS of domesticity. he’s always been the type to date to marry, and that’s just what he intends to do with you! even though you guys are still young, he’s been planning your proposal sfjfls

tell me why he already knows what kind of ring he wants to get you… omg.

he really wants to just settle down with you in new rome. but honestly, he’s willing to do anything as long as you’re at his side.

expect flowers from jason at least once a month! he even keeps one flower so he knows when it’s time to get you a new bouquet. and if he’s away, he’ll get one of his friends to deliver it!

i have this headcanon that the aphrodite cabin teams up with the hephaestus cabin to throw a really elaborate party, essentially like prom. anyways, jason would go all out for your promposal jfdsls i feel like he would either do a super funny poster/proposal like y’know that one guy who did that medieval promposal 😭 yeah well jason would do something like that but like...more roman... LMFAO him pulling up to your place in a chariot

or he would do something super super intricate and planned out…like a fancy picnic and then he’d have the fauns arrange fireflies to spell out “prom?” when it’s dark out.

ugh! jason grace the man that you are… <3 best bf ever,, i can confirm btw

#jason grace #jason grace x reader #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x you #jason grace fanfiction #jason grace fanfic #jason grace fluff #jason grace fic #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #rick riordan #riordanverse #percy jackson fandom #percy jackson headcanon #percy jackson fic #percy jackson fanfiction

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suguru-getos · 1 year ago

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soft yandere satoru hcs:

a/n: hey, you guys should know i ship myself with him so there's no way i'd tolerate insane yandere satoru without ki!ling myself :P soooo- here's me making him a soft yan ^^

warnings: yandere behavior, mentions of arranged marriage troupe, stalkingtroupe, angry!sato ofc but he is still normal about it. mentions of fluff because it's satoru duh <33 also, this is one of the softest yandere hcs i've ever written *giggles*

yandere!satoru who saw you the first time in a jujutsu clan party hosted by your parents and how insignificant you truly were. to yourself, you had the best parents ever, they didn't push you into becoming a sorcerer, but to the kamo, zenin, and gojo clan members it was pure bullshit. wastage of proper sorcerer blood.

until yandere satoru met you for the first time and you hung out, the way he conversed was so different from someone who should be the strongest, someone who wields the highest powers in the whole world. someone who's birth shook the shackles of this world alone. he was kind, he sat next to you, non-judgemental even so he was weirdly wearing that damned blindfold.

he talked to you about your life, and about his own. pointing out the subtle and the not so subtle differences between the both of you. asking if you had a boyfriend. it was so subtle how could you think he had any other intention but to be your friend? naive and stupid.

things escalated real quickly when your mother told you that you were supposed to marry satoru gojo, oh my god- the clan head of the gojo clan, the ever so spoiled, esteemed entitled brat. you really couldn't say anything about this, but to hold your guns you decided to contact him. "you knew that this was happening?" you mumbled, watching him stir the coffee in front of you lazily. "of course, gosh you are so lucky little one!" he snickered, though the way he looks at you, it's hard to process what he's truly feeling inside. you are unaware of his stalking, how he knows your colleagues, how they are what they do, what they eat, how they breathe, to whom you are closer to, who likes you- what time do you get up, eat, what snack do you like, ghana roasted coffees over normal ones. though he would not admit to it.

there are a few times he has watched you sleep like a creep, just sitting next to you, just feeling the innate feeling of sharing the same bed as you. how cute you are, he often mumbles to himself. "i could crush you without even trying" as a musing criteria for how naive you are, how cute you are and how absolutely adorable you are. creepy-

to pretend that he is more than willing to let you take things your own way, he lets you plan dates. cute, adorable dates. one of the days you would be doing pottery with him, the other time it's an aquarium date where satoru doesn't know why you're so mesmerised when the real awe is you, the other time it was a planeterium and that's when satoru shows you his abilities for the first time, holding you closer to him like the princess you are and walking on sky, as if it's nothing, amid the full moon night. the other time it's you and him making tiaras in a garden, sometimes he would just randomly pull you closer, kissing your cheek while languishing in a movie together. so cute, so astonishingly cute! maybe marrying him is not a bad idea???

things show you their true form when you were on a date in a high-end restaurant, roof-top and fully booked. he's always been so cute with you, you had opened up and been comfortable enough. until a waiter decided to hit on you, before long- you found him choking on his own blood, despicable sight of him oozing out blood from his eyes, coughing and dying in front of you. "wh- what was that?" when you glance at satoru, he is emphasising the same lazy grin, smirking. "what. go on? smile back!" he muses, and when you're a teary-eyed mess, he presents himself with a carefully painted visage of guilt. "oh no no- baby i'm so sorry- i lost it, you make me lose it! i love you so much please no!"

would not let you have personal space after, forcing your parents to hasten the whole marriage thingy, he thinks you would leave him and that has him acting out of character. though he now knows fear is a powerful tool, even though he does not want to use it on his darling. sometimes he can't help it, especially when you act so fucking adamant and so fucking stubborn!!

"listen, princess, here's what's going to happen. daddy's going to be really cooperative if you come here and give him a hug, daddy does not want to be a meanie to his little girl. you know that right?" by being a 'meanie' he just means getting angry, manhandling you against the wall, seething in rage and bubbling hot with the insecurity of your behavior being the slightest of different.

the thing is satoru really, really loves you. the prospect of being a yandere is more 'dere' in him. however when the yandere shows? that's when you should truly fear the capabilities of this man. satoru hates this but he can sometimes use your triggers against you. don't like being tied up, maybe an empty threat would get you in line, after all, you refuse to listen when he wants to love you!

he's going to make sure your engagement ring has a location curse imbued into it, he wants to know 24x7 where his baby is. one time you lied to him that you are at work when you were actually in a colleague's party, you were greeted by the whole party avenue being destroyed to shreds, people bruised and only you knew it was your now husband, because he texted. 'infinity protects you princess, not others. next time think twice about lying to daddy.'

his behavior can get hot and cold instantly, one moment he is the most adorable man-child, loving you, playing with you... until he's ticked off and the real, no-nonsense monster comes out to meet you. a scathing frown with glowy eyes as he reminds you that you belong to the 'strongest'.

there are times he does use sex as a weapon, a weapon to make you give in. he is just so good at it, he is going to spoil you senseless, kissing every square inch of your body, worshipping you, crying with you when he mumbles apologies for being angry and mean at you, for scaring you, you don't deserve it, such a pretty baby, oh you take him so well. he was made for you, you are the strongest because you have him wrapped around your pinkie... only to show you the rage and insecurity and all of it when you come home late.

the only positivity you have, is he would rather kill himself than hurt you. that brings you peace, that brings a sense of stability and sensibility into you to hang onto the rope of your relationship a bit longer, clutching onto the fleeting hope of him changing...

#yandere gojo #yandere gojo hcs #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo x reader #yandere jjk x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #jjk drabble #gojo drabble #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo satoru x you #yandere gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo x you #gojo x y/n

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babybratzmaraj · 6 months ago

Text

Look At You

Duke Dennis as: Himself

You as: yourself

Summary: Duke shows you better that he can tell you that you're fucking beautiful

This fic contains: stronggg sexual content, breeding kink, daddy kink,lil bit of degrading, praise kink and das all my horny brain can think of

A/N: I have no words. again. i thought of some shit and was like WELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

the thought in question: i was finna say i need a nigga to pull my hair and fuck thee every loving shit outta me while making me look in the mirror and he tells me how pretty i am and how my pussy feels amazing

anywho! like comment reblog for more, and as always folks, have a black ass day.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @thecapodomme @theebaddesttt

The sweat beading off your forehead mixed with his, he reached around the other side and kissed your cheek, the gaze he gave you through the mirror, made you clench around him, his length filling you, leaving you craving for an ounce of movement.

he raised himself into a push-up position, moaning at the little twitching his dick did. He gather as many curls as he could with one hand, which was basically your whole head, you’d be beating him senselessly about fucking up your hair, but at this moment you didn’t care, it’s not like he was hurting you.

“I want you to look at yourself in the mirror,” he carefully moved your head back to the center of the mirror, returning your gaze to meet his, “You take your eyes off, I’ll slow down. Got it?”

You nodded your head in agreement, “Give me words baby,” He yanked your head back, slowly gyrating his hips in a circle, making you follow his command. “Yessss Daddy,”

He pulled the corner of his mouth into a smirk, “That's my good girl, I love you.”

Before you could even get a chance to say it back, he gave you one powerful thrust, to prepare you for what was about to come.

He leans down to your ear, panting and cursing under his breath while he planted kisses on your shoulders leading up to your ear, “Breathe mamas,” his words were like God’s pure words, looking into your skull as the most beautiful sound of you filled the air, “That pretty ass voice, You like it when I fuck you like this? Hm?” He asked you with each thrust growing sharp.

“YesYesYesYesYes Fuck!” you whimpered, lowering your head which slowed his pace down, “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, feeling you clenching around his dick made him desire you more.

He loved when you smiled, he loved it when you moaned, he loved it when you made sure the whole world knew his name and every curse word in the universe, he loved it when you submitted to him, you were always a hassle but you learned to submit to him, and he loved that shit.

“Fuck,” He leaned back, resting his hands on your hips, groaning at you slowly fuck him back, he guided you carefully up and down his dick, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was tryna trap your ass.

“This pussy feels amazing baby, She’s taking me soooo fuckin’ well. You like fuckin’ me like this? Fuck me back like the lil slut you are?” he questioned you knowing damn well you couldn’t comprehend what in the entire fuck he was talking about, you were too focused on how good he was fucking you, his slightly curved dick touching all the right spots and spots you didn’t know was even there before, its like he learned your body without you knowing and you loved it.

you whined as he slowly slid out of you, his dick fully coated with your essence. He flipped you to your side and to which he giggled at your face, your lips permanently stuck like the letter ‘O’.

“Come on baby, I know you got one more in you.”

“I done gave you threeeee,” you dragged your words into whines, you have been fucked outta your mind and so has he, but neither one of you wanted to be apart from each other.

He positioned himself along with your entrance, you clenched over nothing as your pussy was trying to welcome him back to his home.

He grips your throat enough to where you can breathe just a little, bringing your face close to his as he gives you a sultry meaningful kiss, one that leaves you feeling like the two of you’s souls are complete, merging you both into one.

Without breaking the kiss, he slowly teased you with his length, sliding it up and down your wet folds, smacking his tip right on your clit, giggling at the small twitch and hitches your breath made.

He let go of your throat as he slowly slid back into you, breaking the kiss to let out thee most dramatic gasp you could have ever gasped, got to give it to him, toxic dick is what’ll make a bitch sick.

He locks his arms from under your armpit, you threw your arms around him, keeping him close as he grips your shoulders, steadying himself before he begins to rock his hips.

The slow, sensual pace drove you mad, your moans turning into whimpers as he kept fuckin his love deeper into you.

“I’m gonna,” He moaned deeply in your ear, you kept him close, locking your legs behind him so he couldn’t go nowhere, at this point you were the one trapping this nigga.

“Please cum in me!” you whimpered loosely as your body did something all too familiar.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Pleaseeeeee?”

“I ca-can’t hearrrr you,” he growled primarily as he fucked your hungrily, his thrusts fogging your brain on actual words, all you could blurt was:

“Daddy please cum in my pussy? Fuck, fuck, Please Daddy?!”

his chuckles turned into moans as his dick twitched inside you, you felt him shoot his seed deep inside you, fucking it deeper in you as you scream in pleasure and unholiness, you black out for a few seconds.

When you came to, Duke was gripping your hips to keep you still, rutting into you a few more before halting to a complete stop.

The room was filled with heavy breathing and unwanted clatter from the TV, the both of you started laughing when you two came down from Cloud 9, Duke slid out and plopped beside you.

“I love you baby.” you breathed, climbing over to lay on his chest.

“I love you more mamas,” he rubbed your shoulders, running his lines over his fingermarks, “Sorry About That.”

“It ain't like nobody gone see it.” you laughed and he agreed in silence.

#duke dennis #duke dennis smut #duke dennis x reader #duke dennis x plus size reader #amp #told by bratz #bratz be writing #Spotify

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 8 months ago

Note

Heyyy you were asking for recs for the Fire Breathing Roommate right???

Imagine Mitsuki coming to reader and Katsuki’s apartment for his birthday and reader’s like who is THIS goddess at my doorstep like- And Katsuki’s like: Babe- that’s my mother.

I just think it would be SO FUNNY to try to celebrate Katsuki’s birthday the way humans do - because I bet dragons celebrate them very differently. So when reader gives him a big wrapped box and a cake that’s ON FIRE he’s like OH MY GOD THE WORLD IS ENDING

oh my god. you are literally a GENIUS THIS IS SOOOO GOOD AND HONESTLY ADORABLE !!! i had sm fun writing this n i hope you enjoy ! <3 if you guys have any more fbbcXtra requests, feel free to send em to me !! ps. this was way longer than i planned it to be which is funny cus this is supposed to be a mini extra's series, but oh well ! i had fun writing ! and i hope you enjoy reading as well !

♡ extra #2 : birthday battle ♡

in which : you celebrate katsuki’s birthday but you end up getting a surprise.

you wake up like usual in the morning, enjoying your day off as you laze around in bed, shuffling the most you can with the big dragon man’s arms around you, snuggly trapping you in his snake like hold and his tail warm and draped on top of your legs beneath the sheets.

just like usual, except things are a little different today and you crack a smile when you manage to free your head from his iron grip.

today is katsuki’s birthday.

he'd told you about it a few month ago in passing, and ever since you found out you'd planned everything meticulously, hence your day off, so you could make his first birthday here as memorable as possible.

you look up at his relaxed sleeping face with a soft smile, before pressing a small kiss to his chin. then another one to his nose and you giggle quietly when his nose twitches. he grouses quietly in response when you lean up and kiss him again, the corner of his mouth, his cheeks and the ones on his eyelids make him grumble. his arms around your waist squeeze.

"s'too early fer you to be botherin' me, human.." the blonde man slurs. one of his red eyes opens to peek at your smiling face, your smile widening seeing him awake. you press another kiss to the tip of his nose and he grunts in appreciation.

"s'never too early to wish a happy birthday to my dragon man." you croon. katsuki closes his eyes at your affection, but his eyebrows furrow in confusion and his grip on you gets tighter somehow.

"that's what you woke me up for ?"

"of course it is, it's your birthday !" he flops down onto his back on the bed and you break out of his hold to sit up, leaning on your shoulder to watch him. he throws an arm over his eyes but the one closest to you feels around the bed for you.

"babe, it's really not that big of a deal." he utters simply.

he'd told you, and you'd assumed, that dragons celebrate and see birthdays way differently than humans do. it's somewhat of a celebration, but not for very long. dragonshifter where usually raised to be able to hold their own; being taught to be indepented and skilled fighters from a very young age.

"it depends from faction to faction," is what he'd said, "but birth celebrations usually don't last any longer than a few minutes. and we don't do whole birthdays like you do. most ya get is a pat on the back and the most to eat for dinner." he had shrugged. a frown pulled at your face and he smirked at you, ruffling your hair as he told you not to get 'all mopey' for him, and that he didn't mind. but in that moment your mind was set.

you'd get him to experience a human birthday. and it'd be his best one ever.

you pout at him, nudging his arms and he groans despite only barely budging like jello. "it is a big deal ! i wanna be able to celebrate with you." you place your head on his chest. he lifts his arm just a bit to look at you. "birthdays are so much fun, i wanna show you that..i planned everything out too-"

"you planned this out ?" he squints.

"-pleaseee ?" you plead, ignoring his earlier question. the blonde huffs out a large sigh and covers his eyes again.

"fine. what am i g'nna do with you ?" he concedes to himself quietly, but he grabs at your waist and pulls at it, signalling for you to shuffle up towards him. you do, until your face to face with him and he sighs again, eyes softened.

"since it's my birthday, i can do what i want right ?"

"mostly, yeah. no burning anyone though." you poke his nose and giggle when he scoffs a sharp click of his teeth in annoyance.

"whatever, how 'bout you just let me sleep in then ?" he snarks.

"i can do that." you grin back at him and he tries to lean in just enough to bite your nose, but he doesn't lean far enough and simply throws his head back in defeat. you laugh and since it's his birthday, you'll let him have it, so you lean in a bit closer to his face. he takes a modest chomp at your nose and you roll your eyes with a huff at the tired smirk on his face like he'd won some type of prize. and despite his sleepy eyes he still manages to lean in again to rub his nose against yours in lazy greeting. you close your eyes and sigh at his ministrations.

but of course, your katsuki cannot live with himself if his not being a little shit and he yawns in your face. you smack a hand over his mouth and groan in disgust. he just laughs into your hand, then he bites at your palm.

"can you be not-insufferable for at least five minutes after you wake up ?" you whine, childishly wiping your hand onto his tank top.

"no can do baby, s'my birthday." the shit eating grin on his face almost makes you regret introducing him to the concept of human birthdays as a whole. almost though, because unfortunately this absolute demon man has your heart fitted nicely into the palm of his hand.

"you are truly something else." you grumble. katsuki snickers at your annoyance. "mhmm. hurry up an' gimme a kiss." he says but doesn't even give you a chance to respond when he grabs the back of your head and brings you to his lips, you don't put up much resistance either. he makes a forced face when you pull away.

"your breath smells like shit."

"you should absolutely not be talking."

the day has been going extremely well. you'd done what katsuki wanted today. which consisted of sleeping in. having his favorite for breakfast and some birthday pancakes, courtesy of you, which he gobbled up in the blink of an eye. watching his favorite movie to make fun of at the moment and taking a nap again. before going out for a birthday lunch and a (extremely tiring) hike all before dinner. the dinner and hike where set up by you. you could tell he enjoyed the activities even if he hadn't knocked his forehead to yours with a kiss to your forehead and a big blush on his face as thanks, but it was a very nice plus.

katsuki's lazing around on the couch asking you which show you want to watch while you're busying yourself with his secret chocolate fudge birthday cake. you plan to give it to him later tonight. you hide it behind a big tupperware box after checking to see if it was still intact. "just pick whatever !" you call loud enough for him to hear. carefully placing the bakery box back behind all of the other foods.

"i can't pick whatever, 'ts why i'm asking you !" you roll your eyes at his sass, a smile pulls at your face at the idea of a little revenge.

"it's your birthday, so figure something out !" you sing, he doesn't respond but growls loud enough for you to faintly hear it, and soon enough you hear a bunch of netflix prequels playing in quick succesion. you can't help but giggle.

then you hear the doorbell ring. and then again, longer and louder. it's way louder than you ever thought was possible and you wondered if it was maybe time to change some type of batteries or maybe have your boyfriend fix it for you.

"ugh, i'll get it !" you groan. you mutter a bitter 'yeah, yeah, i'm coming.' at the door. sachi definitely doesn't ring your doorbell like..that. and the only friend of katsuki's who'd probably ring the doorbell like this is kaminari, since for some reason he seems to be fixated on loud noises and specifically the noises your doorbell makes.

then you swing your door open and your met with katsuki. except a little bit taller and also a woman.

you have to blink to realise that that's not your katsuki at the door because he's already inside scrolling through shows and movies. rather, it's someone who looks extremely similar to him. the same blonde hair and same piercing red eyes and that same hardened stare. and of course, those fiery red horns and matching tail, altough hers was a little slimmer. she's extremely gorgeous.

you blink and gasp, words won't come out and the woman simply stares like she's analyzing you. you think you see the tiniest of smiles break into her face but you turn your head too quickly to tell.

"katsukiiiii !" you call "there's a very gorgeous dragon lady here who looks exactly like you ! "

in an instant it's like he teleported over to you, already in a fighting stance until he realizes who's at the door and you presume she's here for, and knows, him. his shoulders slum forward and an almost guilty expression crosses his face when he sees your widely blown eyes.

"do you know her???" you whisper yell. you forget the woman is right in front of you and can most definetly hear you, not to mention her superior hearing. katsuki exhales.

"babe.." katsuki winces apologetically "that's..my mom."

huh????

katsuki's mom hasn't stopped touching you since she got here 10 minutes ago.

from what you'd heard from your boyfriend his mother was a ruthless, aggressive stubborn and strict 'old bat' (you quickly scolded him about the way he adressed his mother) but from what you're experiencing now, this was anything but the case, though katsuki had the habit of being quite the unreliable narrator.

because ever since you'd brought her into your apartment, she has not gotten her hands off of you. to the great displeasure of your boyfriend, who's sitting on the kitchen chair glaring at the tv with his head resting against his palm and tapping his foot. when you'd went to bow to greet her she quickly scooped you up in her arms, shaking you around in her arms like a ragdoll with such force katsuki growled at her to let you go. you can't tell if being so affectionate is truly a dragon thing or if it runs in the family.

"oh aren't you just such a sweetheart !" she squeals, grabbing onto your shoulder to bring you closer to her and you squeak at the force. her slit eyes scanning over every corner of your face and she hums.

"mhmm, very good.." she pinches your cheeks between her pointer and thumb and tilts your face around, continuing to exam you. "oh, and so soft an' squishy too, like a little dumpling !" she coo's, smiling softly at you. she's a little rough, but she means well, you think. at least that's what you try to think when she suddenly grabs at your jaw to pry your mouth open. you let out a surprised gutteral noise but mitsuki doesn't seem the least bit fazed, she keeps humming to herself like a doctor. it's stupid but you're a little embarrassed because you'd recently eaten and you don't think your breath smells the best, she doesn't seem to mind that either.

"hmm..teeth aren't very sharp though.." she pouts, before a smile shines back onto her face as if to reassure you "that's okay though, sweetheart ! we can probably do something about that-"

suddenly a hand grabs at the woman's wrist and pulls her away from you and it's none other than katsuki. you smack a few times to readjust the slight pain in your jaw and you look up to see the two shifters in a heated stare down. it kinda looks ike a mirror trick because they're just so similar, it almost makes your head spin.

"quit touchin' on her old hag, at the rate you're going you'll break her fuckin' jaw." katsuki spits, dropping his mom's wrists with furrowed brows. his expression mirrors her own as she stands up to glare down at him fiercely. her eyes locking on yours make you flinch but a second passes and her face morphs, she's smiling. mitsuki grabs the top of her son's head and playfully (you hope..) smacks it a couple times, he snarls and growls but she ignores him in favor of giggling at you.

"he can be quite the brat sometimes, am i right ?!" her forced chuckles quickly turn into her pinching her son's cheeks with gritted teeth and a tick mark on her forehead. katsuki's complaint and what looks like to be an almost scorching grip on her wrist is ignored, she ignores him like he's a mere insect on her shoulder and keeps talking to you like he isn't there. "i hope he doesn't cause you too much trouble ? i know my son is a lot to handle." she asks, her sweet tone of voice returns and you sit up straighter. despite the..interesting first impression you still want your boyfriend's mother to like you.

"oh no, not at all ! katsuki's a sweetie." you smile and she coo's at you like a baby. she laughs like you'd just told her a joke and she pinches at her son's face to get his attention "heh. a real sweetie, eh ?" she mocks, raising a brow. katsuki finally manages to rip her hand off his face and he all but growls at her.

"shut up ! what're you even here for ?!" katsuki's complaint is grumbled as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. the only thing differentiating the two of them is that katsuki is currently hiding his tail, it gets in the way around your small apartment and he says it's annoying to sit with it on the couch and he hates tearing holes in his pants, so he mostly only has his horns out. horns identical to his mothers that point back when she raises her nose up at him with a dissapointed huff.

"oh please, it feels like everyone's been able to see your human den besides me !" she exclaims, resting her hands on her waist. "is it so bad that i wanted to come visit my son, and on his birthday of all days !" she huffs. katsuki scrunches his nose up in response. mitsuki continues, she fixes her warm gaze onto you and you blink up at her in surprise. she immediatly chippers up and swoops down to pick you up and hug you.

"and when was it you where planning on introducing me to your mate, and one who's such a cutie at that !" she rubs her cheeks against yours and you're glad she isn't lifting you off the ground but the way she's leaning over you makes your back hurt and has you gripping her arms. a bad decision since she thinks you're returning her affection and squeezes you harder. she glares at her son "as your mother-"

"urrghh-" he groans

"-and the one who practically set you up, i think you should've invited me sooner." she chides, patting at your head. katsuki's almost pout and slouched back reminds you of a little kid getting scolded. you supress a snort when you make eye contact and his frown deepens when you throw him a questioning lifted brow, he just shrugs and looks away again.

"pops hasn't been here yet either." he shrugs off, adjusting to cross his arms.

"you know how nervous your father gets katsuki." mitsuki scoffs, rolling her eyes at her son's comment. said son mirrors her expression, they seriously make your head spin.

"whatever. you came, you saw-" katsuki starts, heading over to rip you away from his mom's grip with minor resistance. "ya put yer paws all over my mate," he growls bitterly, giving you a firm squeeze before letting you go but never too far away from you. “so you can go now.” he says through gritted teeth and squinting eyes.

mitsuki scoffs, dramatically placing her hand onto her chest and even leans back a bit "how rude !" her wide eyes fix themselves to you and you instinctively nod, earning you a growl from the man next to you.

"while it is true i came here to see where you're living, i did come all the way here to wish my son, a happy birthday." she accentuates, putting extra intonation on specific words and every time she does katsuki shrinks into himself a bit. though after a moment he raises a brow

"there's no way you came all the way here just to wish me happy birthday." he deadpanned "what do you want ?" suddenly a smirk crosses the older woman's face and you see how on guard katsuki gets. you start getting a little nervous when stances start getting more..combative.

"do you think that ill of me, katsuki ? i'm hurt you'd thinkso little of me.. i even brought a gift too.." you start to realise how her horns starts to glow as she also backs up a bit, seeming ready to pounce. you hear katsuki scoff out a laugh and your head whips around to stare at the two. two big wings suddenly sprawl from the woman's back, your dragon man grins, doing the same and you realize-

where they planning to fight in your apartment ????

"woah, woah, woah, woah, WOAH." you get in between the both, frantically waving your arms around (you realize this is the second time you've stood in between two dragons now). immediately there's a shift. the tension remains, both blondes staying on guard but gazes fixed onto you.

"what're you guys planning to do ?!" you lock eyes with the older bakugou and shrink back "..if i may ask.." you squeak out. she giggles at your cuteness.

"oh, don't worry darling, this is totally normal ! i know you humans aren't familiar with birthday battles, but they're harmless, really !" she chirps.

"BIRTHDAY BATTLES???" you shriek, whipping your head around to see katsuki unfazed. he simply shrugs at you and your eye twitches at his nonchalance.

"it's fine. m'stronger than her anyways." he waves off, his mother barks out a laugh.

"hah ! is that the hill you wanna die on ?!" she challenges, your boyfriend has the nerve to try to respond until you cut him off before he can.

"katsuki. you are not battling in the house." you squeak, voice pitched high in distress. katsuki, the dragon man who was just about to fight his mother, apparently to the death, has the gall to pout at you.

"it'll be fine, i'll just fix it later." he grumbles.

"and where am i supposed to be while you guys fight to the death ?!" you say, your arms are still spread out like this could somehow stop the two beasts from duking it out should they decide to right now. his shoulders drop, his horns dimming. he pouts harder and you can already see what's coming.

"katsuki-"

"'ts my birthday."

"katsuki. don't-"

"you said i could do what i want."

"but i didn't think you'd do this ??" you try helplessly, giving him your best puppy dog eyes as a last ditch effort. incredibly stubborn as he is,katsuki doesn't budge. you pause to think.

it is his birthday.

and you did want to make his birthday as enjoyable as possible..and if it meant fighting with his mom would accomplish that, then so be it.

you sigh, loudly, and you want to hate the pleased little smirk on your rabid boyfriend's face so bad. but unfortunately, you can't. and that makes you sigh again.

"fine," you look up at him seriously "but not here. i'm sure you can find a field so you can..duke it out. don't get too injured." your boyfriend scoffs boastfully at your words, he pulls you in and wraps a strong arm around your waist, pulling you in. he seems to forget his mom's presence, who's now staring at you both with a smirk. you grip at his shoulders in embarrassment.

"nah, i told you i'm stronger." he says simply, kissing your cheek hard and sloppily "gonna come cheer me on ?" he offers, teasing smile on display.

"i fear i'd die of a heart attack, so i'm gonna sit this one out." you sweatdrop, patting his chest. he grunts in dissaproval but quickly shrugs it off, pressing a kiss to your head before fixing his fiery gaze onto his mother. "well, you gonna chicken out ?" he jeers.

"don't you underestimate your mother." she flashes you a loving grin, walking over to you and pressing her forehead to yours quickly and you feel your whole body warm up happily "it was wonderful meeting you dear. i hope you'll let me visit again soon."

"hell no."

"of course !" you and katsuki respond in unison. as expected mitsuki ignores her son's words and grins at you again. before she leaves she wraps you up in one of her tight hugs, thanks you for taking care of her son, then follows katsuki to the front door. the blond quickly throwing out a "i'll be back later !" loud enough for you to hear and you wave them off before you hear the door click shut. when they leave you heave a long sigh.

that was definitely one way to meet his mother, but you're at least happy it went well.

you truly hope this birthday battle really as harmless as mitsuki claimed it was, though..

after a few hours katsuki returns. not heavily injured, but extremely dirty and with tears in his clothes.

"katsuki !" you whine, walking over and inspecting his upper body and sleepy albeit satisfied face. you grab his face between your palms to get him to look at you. he closes his eyes, "i told you not to get injured !"

he simply huffs and nuzzles into your palm "m'not injured though. can see it can't you ?" he points towards his very exposed chest and his eyes shine mischievously at your flustered splutters. before you can get another complaint in he shoves his head into your shoulder and you squeal, pushing him away.

"no-katsuki, no." he growls lowly at your denial "you're dirty. go shower."

"s'my birthday-"

"you're stinky, birthday or not. you can't keep using that as an excuse you know." you snort, trying your best to stay firm, you quickly check the clock "your birthday's almost over by now." you push at his shoulders so he wouldn't get the opportunity to get comfy and try to coax you into cuddling with him.

he grumbles something unintelligible before lifting his head up to simply stare at you. "did you win ?" you ask and he huffs but he smirks

"nah, almost got her though."

"well, there's always next year."

he squints, scrunching his nose up at your words "she's not coming here next year." you squeeze his scrunched up nose and he pretends to bite at you. "stop being so mean to your mom."

"m'gonna go shower." he ignores you and you roll your eyes as you watch his tail trail behind him to your bedroom to get a change of clothes before making his way to the bathroom.

as soon as the door clicks shut you jump into motion. you bound over to the kitchen, reaching the fridge you slowly pull the chocolate fudge cake out. placing the candles on it carefully, sticking out your tongue for utmost focus. you're happy with the positioning, leaning back to admire your work. afterwards you quickly search for a lighter, and place it next to the cake, you smile when you hear the faucet turn off, just in time.

when katsuki comes out, hair still wet and puffy wearing a simple grey lounge sweater and sweatpants, you're standing in front of him. he raises a brow at your bright smile, he tilts his head back questioningly "what's up ?" he asks, suspecting some type of trick. but he was in for a surprise.

you lean forwards and grab both his hands to drag him over to the couch. "come on." you urge, pulling him along but keeping your gaze fixed on him. a huff of laughter through his nose, he barely supresses a curious smile at your giggles "what ?" he asks again when your closer to the couch.

"just siddown." you push him down rather harshly and he grunts in surprise. "i'll be right back !" before he can say anything you sprint to the kitchen and bring back his cake. "tadaaa !" you exclaim. his eyes widen.

"what's the cake for ?" he asks gruffly and you shake your head. "s'for you, silly !" you giggle. his confused stare has you explain further "for your birthday, it's what we do here." his eyes fly from you, to the cake, then back to you and you can't help but giggle.

"it's dark chocolate since i know you don't like overly sweet stuff, i figured this is sort of a rite of passage for human birthdays" you laugh, but you're interrupted when your body releases a loud "oof !" when your boyfriend's large body topples over yours. you wrap your arms around his neck almost instinctively with a loud squeak.

he doesn't say anything even as you call out to him, but you think you know what he's trying to say when he nuzzles against your neck and squeezes you tight, so tight you grunt a bit and pat at his back and he plops a wet kiss on your shoulder as apology. you smile, patting his back again, because you know what he's trying to say.

"alright big guy." you start rubbing up and down his back and giggling at his annoyed grumbles. "we still have to eat the cake right ?" you nudge your shoulder a bit to encourage him and he gets off of you after a second. he looks away from you with pink cheeks and scratching at his nape. l-let's eat it then." he mumbles. you can't help the smile that grows on your face, when you remember.

"i'll go get a knife-"

"wait, wait, wait !" you lift your arms into his face and his eyes widen "i'll go get it !" you're already getting up before he can protest fully.

"it's fine, i can do it-"

"no, no ! you. sit." you wave your finger at him and he crosses his arms "m'not a dog." he mutters, but he does as you say, begrudingly.

"c'mooon, it's your birthday right ?" you tease, laughing to yourself as you head over to the kitchen again hearing him groan a 'oh, fuck off'.

you come back with a knife, two little plates, two spoons and lighter. you place them on the little table in front of you and katsuki scans your movements carefully as you grab the lighter first. you don't think he knows what they are and thinking on it now, you probably should've at least shown him how they work. because his eyes practically bulge out of their sockets when you flick it on and the small flame comes out.

"the hell are you doin' ?!!" he shouts, quickly reaching over to grab your lighter away. you manage to carefully swerve out of his way, eyes also wide as saucers.

"what are you doing ??!" you excaim back

"why are you trynna set shit on fire ??!"

"i'm not--i'm just trying to light the candles-it's normal !!" you heave. you both stare at each other chest rapidly expanding.

"oh." is all he says. you let out a loud sigh.

"yeah." you breathe. his shoulder slump and he places his elbows onto his knees, opening his hand up signalling you to give the device to him so he could analyze it.

"you flick it on like this, see ?" you teach, showcasing it to him and handing it over so he can test it out himself. he spins it around in his hands, then flicks it on. his eyes scan the flame before he squints at it.

"f'you wanted a flame, you could've just asked me to do it instead of using this wimpy shit." your mouth almost drops in shock and you chuckle, of course he'd get jealous of the lighter. you reach for the lighter and he gives it back, not before fixing it with a scowl. you calmly now, light the candles slowly while he stares.

"i just need a little light, not a flame thrower." you jest.

"m'better than that too."

"oh, i'm sure of it." you decide to humor him, it was his birthday after all, though you are pretty positive he would be better than a flame thrower and a mini lighter.

you beckon him over and he leans towards you and the cake "now you need to blow the candles out, and make a wish !" his eyebrows furrows.

"it's just tradition." you explain, batting your lashes up at him. he drops his head with a sigh and smirks to himself before leaning in, closing his eyes for a few seconds, then he leans back as his chest expands, your eyes widen again.

"katsuki, just blow on it !"

he stops, annoyed " that's what i was gonna do, if you'd let me get it out."

"i said blow, not extinguish it." you quip. he growls then leans in, closing his eyes again to reiterate his wish (despite making fun of it at first he seemed to be taking his wish pretty serious) then softly blows the candles out, huffing out a laugh when you cheer and clap for him.

"man, i wish i'd bought party poppers.." you whine "guess that's for next year." you shrug off. unbeknownst to you, katsuki feels stupid, but he also feels his heart warm at how casual you uttered those words. next year for his next birthday here with you. he nods quietly.

you cut up a slice and place it on one of the plates, you grab a spoon and scoop up a small bite. then, you jokingly raise it up to your boyfriend who's cheeks burn bright red when you go "alright, say ahh !"

he squints at you "..seriously ?" you chortle.

"it's your birth-daaay.." you sing, inching the spoon closer to his face. he rolls his eyes, then grumbles to himself. he leans in, sharp teeth peeking as he opens his mouth with a half hearted "aah.." and taking a bite. you giggle seeing him look up at the ceiling to taste the sweet treat better, his eyes postively light up and he groans in delight when the taste finally hits. you sit on the couch, and try some of the cake yourself. it's heavenly and you hum in content "s'it good ?" you snicker with your mouth full.

"s'fuckin' good." he confirms, you snort. he let's his head rolls towards you, eyes still closed "gimme more." he demands, you roll your eyes but it's his birthday so you'll comply, feeding him another spoonful of cake.

you sit around like this the whole evening, eating cake and making jokes. and of course, finishing the day by watching a movie. you pull your hands from your boyfriends head in your lap to grab your phone, he grumbles but you ignore it in favor of checking the time. it's well over midnight now and katsuki's birthday is unfortunately over. you're happy, but it has you smiling sadly.

"what's up ?" bakugou raises a brow. his hand grabs yours.

"you're officially no longer the birthday boy.." you whisper, leaning down to place a kiss against his nose. he scrunches it and puckers his lips up, grouchy face and furrowed brows on display to get you to kiss his lips instead. you roll your eyes and even if it isn't his birthday anymore, you comply.

"was good while it lasted." he shrugs off, his eyes dart across the room "i--today was..fun." he admits bashfully, you smile sweetly. he looks up at you and closes his eyes with a huff, pulling your hand into his hair.

"'cept when that old bat barged in here."

"quit talking about your mother that way." you tug at his strands and he bites at you.

a beat passes and bakugou's pulling at your shirt roughly, and you squeak when he presses his lips to yours, pillowy lips biting at your bottom one and making you gasp which gives him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, grabbing the back of your head to kiss you deeper.

when you pull away, heaving and lips shining with spit and his hair tousled from your earlier ministrations he smiles softly. it's faint but his eyes shine as hard as his cheeks when he speaks "thanks..for today an' all." he plays with your fingers to hide his nervousness to meet your soft eyes "dunno why you care s'much about this birthday stuff," you try to speak but he bites at your finger to silence "but..m'glad you do, or whatever. had a good day. better be ready to spend it with me again next year." he challenges, smirking up at you.

you smile back brightly, because you'll be ready to spend it with him next year and the year after and the years after that. you'd make sure to be with katsuki for every human birthday to come.

(little did you know, it was katsuki's wish too.)

this took forever but this part is done !! i had a lot of fun writing this one and even tho im a lot of days late (lol) heres another katsuki birthday piece ! i hope yall enjoy reading !! <3 if yall wanna keep being tagged jus lemme know but im only doing this bc some ppl wanted to be tagged for the first part !

*if your name is pink i unfortunately couldn’t tag you :(( @doofusarena @queenpiranhadon @rosemarygalaxy @slashersl0t @andysdrafts @berryvioo @erenstitanweave @chuugarettes @stardyedkatsuki @atinytiredpanromantic @zaiban2989 @annepamgkrth @mxpl3s-castle @jastoo46 @nemisimp @niktwazny303 @cecee77 @m-inluv

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simpjaes · 9 months ago

Note

thoughts on jayhoon (maybe hyungline) with an inexperienced gf?!.. please 😩🫶

hyung line + inexperienced reader

★ heeseung:

i'm not saying he would look for an inexperienced girlfriend so she sees him as a sex god, but i'm also not saying that it wouldn't be a plus in the relationship.

I think he'd be gentle on purpose at first [probably struggling to hold back too], working his way up, up, up to where he wants to be regarding his sex life. the first time would probably be vanilla sex, where he's sliding in nice and gentle, praising you and cooing in your ear like "feel how wet you are for this, baby-" and "you're really loving this, yeah?"

and he'll be like that for like...idk, a week tops before he starts being dirty rather than gentle. snapping his hips and cooing out the same praise when you tense up at the force. caressing your cheek when he face fucks you :( loving how you gag consistently because you've only sucked his dick before.

idk, i think heeseung would be obsessed with being the standard™ and i also don't think he'd be able to stay gentle with you when you just...like...let him fuck you however he wants.

☆ jay:

he likes inexperienced girls because they get soooooooooooooo fucking wet. and the only thing he loves more than girls who drip for him is a girl who makes him drip for her.

thankfully, it goes both ways when it comes to inexperienced girls. he'd def get soooo so so hard knowing he can please you without much effort. i'm talking one little touch to your clit, one slide of his cock into you and you're quivering? he'd def be the one saying shit like "this is all it takes to have you like this?" and "here, spread your legs more, i can go so deep-"

probably entirely obsessed with knowing he's one of the only cocks you've taken. fr so possessive and not wanting you to take anyone other than him after the fact too. also obsessed with showing you each new thing and loving how you try your best on him too. from being bad at sucking cock to having him shaking within just a few days. he loves a high sex drive fr, you're such a fast learner too. probs worries about you running off someday and using that tongue thing you picked up on someone else ;-;

plus, it never hurts for jay to be the one bringing the majority of the pleasure. In fact, it's probably his favorite role to play.

★ jake:

jake is the guy who is confidently fucking clumsy with his dick. an inexperienced girl would be perfect for him for several reasons.

for one, you're probably willing to try just about everything without him feeling embarrassed or weird about liking certain things. secondly, you'd be so easy to turn on and that, in turn, would have him nearly cumming in his pants. lastly, you'd probably be so fucking tight that he wouldn't have to do much at all in regards to thrusting. just cock warming feels like he's fucking you senseless with the way you grip and clench him.

i am a firm believer in switch!jake, so i think he could not only take care of you and become utterly drunk for such an inexperienced pussy, but let you become drunk for his more experienced cock in whatever way you please.

he would not care whether what you to do him feels good, hurts, or feels absolutely awful. he'd be gentle with his words too, guiding you with that pretty smile on his face like "here, try holding your hand still so I can fuck up--" or "hold onto me," when he slides in, following up with moans of "feel how tight you are around me? fuck, i don't even have to fuck you, do i?"

idk, jake would be a perfect lover in any regard because i think he'd be rough when asked, submissive when asked, or simply vanilla when asked.

☆ sunghoon:

on fucking god this guy would be so gentle, going at your pace and consistently checking up on you despite wanting to rail you into the next fucking dimension if you so much as asked him to.

i don't think he'd really want an inexperienced girl because he wouldn't want to have to hold himself back, but it wouldn't be a deal breaker for him in the slightest.

the issue is that like, when you moan so much with such a pretty, strained voice, he has to fucking fight gods to keep himself from holding you down and just taking you for all your worth. but man is it worth it when you're ready for him to do that to you.

im not saying he'd train you or anything, unlike heeseung, who definitely would. I'm just saying you'd grow so accustomed to his size and the way he fucks you that you'd probably find it hard to think of anyone else knowing your body like he does.

sunghoon would def take his time learning your buttons and pressing them to get what he wants. the first time you ask him to go faster or harder though???? oh man would that lead to a full fucking night of him giving you his all. saying things like "it's okay, just--just relax," when you're tensing up under him from the force of his hips, "fuck, i can't- god you're fucking squeezing me so tight-"

fr would be unable to stop until he's cumming only to eat you out as an apology for ruining that pretty pussy of yours :(

#enhypen smut #heeseung smut #sunghoon smut #jake sim smut #jay smut #park jongseong smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake smut #hardthots #enhypen hard hours

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haechoxo · 5 months ago

Text

[11:03 pm]

two weeks barely crept by.

an unbearable two weeks of virtually nothing, half-assed dms, shared instagram posts, before haechan just stopped altogether. the hangouts and nights spent together no longer existed. as if your friendship no longer existed. the most contact you had beyond whatever this could even be considered was stolen glances at the group’s regular cafe meetups and apartment hangouts that jaemin so very obliviously insisted on both of you showing up to, and neither of you would dare to break jaemin’s heart.

johnny threw another party, doyoung taking initiative soon after and promising it would be chill this time. it was the only way he could convince everyone to show up after the last one.

“stop crowding me!” your speech was a bit slurred, having drunk a lot more than usual. choosing to stay around mark, chenle, and jisung was proving to be a poor decision on your part with the way they’ve successfully managed to box you in near the back door. mark sighed, giving chenle and jisung a look, effectively sending them off to give you some space as he rubbed your back in a comforting gesture, but you shoved him off, grabbing another beer and stepping out onto the porch for some fresh air by yourself.

another poor choice on your part as you were unaware of haechan exiting from the other door as well, stepping out for a smoke break.

“so you and mark, huh?” he broke the silence. god, why does he have to speak?

“what does... what do you care?” you mumbled, taking a long sip of the cheap beer.

“think prim and proper gentlemanly mark is gonna appreciate you drinking that much?” the audacity.

“what. do you. care? what does it matter to you or mark?” silence. he’s taken aback by your tone, only now is he picking up on the inebriated state you’re in. “‘s not like you ever did.” you’re not making any sense.

“huh?” now he’s playing dumb, of course, looking at you like you grew a second head.

“what are you goin’ on about?”

“why do you get to react to all that i do constantly? why are you the only one allowed to be jealous, say- say all your bullshit and make me feel bad!” you scoff, “mark was never the problem, right? i was. w-what does she have... that i don’t?” any snide remark he had ready to fire, died on his tongue as he watched your glassy bloodshot eyes glare back at him.

“it’s not fair, donghyuck.” he flinches, hearing his own name leave your lips in such fashion. “you don’t get to act like i’m yours if you won’t show me, it’s not fair for you to act like we were nothing. i gave you everything, hyuck, and you left me.” why are you telling him all of this? he’s just standing there in stunned silence, without a care in the world, and your words just keep pouring out, one for each sip of that disgusting cocktail taeyong mixed earlier.

“you were doing so well at leaving me alone before, but you’re really fucking bad at it right now.”

previous - next

a/n ; ok chapter five………. not as exciting as the last ones….. not sure if i like it too much i read it over a few times and had bff proofread as well soooo hope u enjoy!! advice is appreciated! xoxo jelly

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f1byjessie · 11 months ago

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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part three.

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yourusername is it time for bahrain yet?! can’t wait to see these two back in action again soon! 🧡

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mclaren We keep asking ourselves the same thing! Our engines are ready and we’re raring to go! 🧡

↳ yourusername you truly understand me mclaren admin

↳ mclaren we think you’re the one who truly understands us y/n

↳ user y/n x mclaren admin?? 🤯 the plot twist none of us saw coming

user missing these lads so much lately

user THE RADIO SILENCE ON OSCAR’S SOCIALS WAS KILLING ME I DEPEND ON THESE MEN TOO MUCH THEY KEEP ME ALIVE 😭😭

user the f1 drought is real rn

user MCLAREN SUPREMACY 2024

↳ user i’m trying to be delulu but we all know it’s just gonna be the mv33 and redbull show again this year 🫤

user soooo are we all just gonna pretend like we didn’t see the pics of her with garrett ward orrrrr?

↳ user no bc i was just thinking the same thing 👀

↳ user wait that was actually her??? cuz you can like barely see her face so i thought it was just a joke???

user what a fake ass bitch

user she only posts other ppl on her acc cuz she knows her ugly ass face would scare everyone else away

user homegirl needs to stay tf away from my man fr 😤😤

user god what a hoe 😒 she already has these two that she could fuck with idk why she needed to go after garrett

user SLUT SLUT SLUT

user if she tries anything with anyone else on the city team i’m gonna lose my shit fr

↳ user same omg

↳ user honestly i’m just glad she didn’t go after grealish or haaland 🙌

↳ user she probably would’ve tried if they weren’t taken already 🙄

↳ user nah i bet she’s totally a homewrecker garrett’s probably just the first on her list

user oh… these comments… 😰

↳ user right???

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yourusername the city boys know how it’s done! and looking pretty good in orange too 😉

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mancity The lads are looking good indeed! This weekend’s match against Newcastle should be an exciting one! ⚽️🩵

mclaren ✍️ Jeremy ✍️ Doku ✍️ and ✍️ Ruben ✍️ Dias ✍️ McLaren ✍️ 2025

↳ mancity Do you think Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri would look good in sky blue? 🤔

user funny how she posts every city man BUT garrett

user god when does she go back to f1??

↳ user march iirc

↳ user well it can’t get here soon enough jfc

user FUCK OFF WE DON’T WANT YOU

user you’re a slag and should accept the fact that any guy would only want you bc of how easy you are

user i’ll bet my left leg that the only reason the f1 boys haven’t shacked up with her yet is cuz they know she’s probably riddled with disease since she drools over every guy that comes near her 😒 like girl needs to bffr and realize that throwing herself at every male in her vicinity isn’t gonna land her a husband and it just making her even more of a slut

↳ user nah i’ll bet they’ve all already done her over in f1 but nobody will touch her now that they’ve passed her round so she had to come over to football just to try and get someone to touch her again 🙄🙄🙄

user i hope garrett realizes how much of a slut she is and breaks up with her

user sick and tired of bitches like this getting with footballers and being all controlling. like i’ll bet she’s gonna tell garrett he can’t go out and party with his mates anymore bc he has to spend time in with her and then she’ll get all pissy about him having female fans bc she’s insecure and knows that if garrett got to meet a REAL fan he’d jump ship immediately. those of us who ACTUALLY care about footballers know their fans are super important to them and we wouldn’t hinder their relationship with them just bc we’re jealous or insecure. garrett needs to be with someone who actually supports him and is willing to let him do what he wants instead of controlling him like he’s a dog on a leash.

user kys like genuinely

user god i can’t wait for this skank to die 😒

“Hey Lando, it’s me. Your best friend. Again,” you give a humorless chuckle. “I could seriously use some of your wizened advice right about now, so, uh, please just give me a call back when you can. Thanks.”

It seems poetic in a cruel sort of way that less than a week ago you were walking Etihad Campus and feeling like you were on top of the world━ working a new albeit temporary gig, adding the Manchester City name to your list of clients, having photos of world-renowned footballers in your portfolio━ and now you’ve resigned yourself to hiding away in the women’s restroom, locked in a stall because it’s the only place you could think of where nobody would be able to find you.

You’re on the verge of tears and feeling rather stupid for it.

It’s the third time today alone that your call has gone straight to voicemail, and with the dozens of unread texts you’ve sent in the last week added to the mix, it’s starting to paint a picture you’re not very happy with. Lando is ignoring you. Or he’s blocked you. Or he’s blocked you because he’s ignoring you━

You bite down on your lip, hard, to keep back the sob crawling its way up your throat.

You’re not a PR officer, you hadn’t been lying when you told Garrett that, but you’ve spent enough time around the McLaren PR teams that you’ve picked up enough tips and tricks to know, at the very least, that the best thing you can do is just ignore the comments.

That’s what they tell all the athletes.

What they don’t tell the athletes is that ignoring the comments is much easier said than done, especially when your career requires you to have such a significant online presence. And the thing is, despite all of these strangers hounding you with every name under the sun and criticizing your capabilities, qualifications, and very existence, the thing that hurts the most is the radio silence from the only person you know could make it all better.

Now, more than ever, you need your best friend. But he isn’t here.

You tuck your phone into your jacket pocket and unlock the stall with great reluctance. You know better than to be hiding away, shirking your responsibilities while crying over a few missed phone calls. You have a job to do, and a real professional wouldn’t let something as simple as a handful of tasteless comments get in the way of that.

You should be used to them. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.

Your first month at McLaren wasn’t entirely different.

When you were first hired on, Carlos had been in Formula One for a handful of years already and had built up a devotedly loyal fanbase with a decently large percentage of possessive fangirls who had come for your head the moment your existence had been announced.

The McLaren Instagram account had posted a picture of you standing between their two grinning drivers, your camera strung around your neck, with a very nice caption welcoming you to the team, and despite no indication that you were by any means involved with either of them in a way that went beyond professional, the comments had been taken over by feral teenage girls who saw the act of you simply standing near Carlos to be a direct threat against their “chances.”

Though it had been frustrating being met with childish threats and petty insults in your comments, you hadn’t really held it against any of them. You remember being a teenage girl and crushing on a celebrity. Deep down you knew you never had a chance with them, but that hadn’t stopped you from hanging posters in your bedroom and doodling their name beneath yours inside of scribbled hearts in your diary.

Regardless, it had taken close to a month for the negativity to die down, and you hadn’t had Lando then, either, so now shouldn’t be much different.

In fact, everyone on the Manchester City team━ trainers, physios, media coordinatiors, and anyone inbetween━ has been very polite about everything between you and Garrett. A lot of them have just avoided saying anything about it, which you’re very grateful for because you don’t think you’d be able to hold back your grimace while thanking them for their well wishes, and the few who have mentioned it typically only say something vague like a wishing you the best of luck or hoping you’re happy.

An intern gave you a sympathetic smile the other day, and you’d nearly burst into tears in the middle of the office of the Director of Communications, so you know you aren’t truly alone in this.

You just feel alone.

Exiting the bathroom is a simple affair. There’s no one standing post outside ready to give you any shit for being hidden away, and nobody comes sprinting around the corner as you make your way down the hall to the press conference room that’s been temporarily turned into your base of operations.

You think you’ll probably be able to go the rest of the afternoon without running into anyone, when you open your door and find━ sitting in the front row of the seats typically saved for journalists and the press, scrolling across his phone with a disinterested look painted across his face━ Jack Grealish.

“Jack,” you greet, a bit shocked. You close the door to the room gently behind you, and cross the distance to your desk. “Did we have a meeting scheduled? It must’ve completely slipped my mind, I sincerely apologize.”

He offers you a polite smile. “No, we didn’t, so no need to be sorry. I actually just wanted to check in. See how things are going with everything.”

You blink at him in surprise. Apart from Garrett, you haven’t really had much time to speak with the other players. They wish you good morning and good afternoon when they see you, and if a ball goes astray they always call out for you to watch your head, but between their morning training and their afternoon training, their strategy reviews at lunch, and the frequent in between meetings with physios, nutritionists, and trainers, they don’t get much time to chit chat with a simple photographer.

You clear your throat, “Erm, it’s going well. I’ve gotten some really good shots these past few days. There’s one with Rodrigo that I’m particularly proud of. It should do well with the fans.”

“And things with Ward?”

You purse your lips.

“Figured.” Jack sighs. “Look, nearly everyone you run into here knows or has at least some inkling into what he’s like. He’s a prick. None of the lads on the team like him, it’s why the managers are trying to get him out of here.”

You lower yourself down into your chair. “He told me they were planning to trade him off because of his reputation.”

Jack scoffs, “Yeah, ‘cause that’s the ‘official’ reason. They can’t cut his contract early for legal reasons, so they’re waiting for it to expire and coming up with an excuse for why they ain’t re-signing him. It’s really just ‘cause the rest of us can’t keep dealing with his massive ego and the fact that he’s a misogynistic fuck who doesn’t know the first thing about respect.”

“Fucking tell me about it,” you mutter with a sigh.

If he expected you to defend Garrett and is surprised by the fact that you haven’t, Jack doesn’t show it. He looks relaxed sitting across from you, like you’re having a casual conversation and not actively shit talking a member of his team. It gives you the impression that he knows significantly more about Garrett than you do, and that because of what he knows he probably figured out that one party in the relationship is not the most willing of participants.

“How’d you get all wrapped up it in then? Didn’t figure you to be the type to go after pricks like Ward.”

You debate over whether you should tell him or not. There isn’t much Jack can do about the situation regardless, but it would at least get things off your chest and if someone else knew then maybe you wouldn’t feel so alone anymore.

There’s only so many days you can spend hiding out in the women’s restroom trying not to bawl your eyes out, and you’ve already reached your limit.

You heave a sigh, “It’s kind of fucked up really.” A pen on your desk catches your attention and you start to fiddle with it, avoiding Jack’s eyes which have focused directly onto you. “He asked if I would help him fix up his reputation by pretending to be his girlfriend so he could show everyone that he’s matured and can hold down a steady relationship. When I told him no, he threatened to make up a lie about inappropriate conduct to get me fired and blacklisted from the industry, so for the sake of preserving my career I agreed.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” Jack murmurs, shaking his head. “I’m real sorry he did that, Y/N.”

You shrug. “It’s happened, so, there’s nothing I can really do except wait it out at this point.”

When you look up and meet his gaze, Jack looks murderous. His hands are clenched into fists on the armrests, knuckles white with the strength of his grip. His brows are furrowed, and his lips are twisted downward in a scowl.

“If you need anything,” he starts, “let me know. And I mean it. We all know how Ward can be. He’s a knobhead. So if you need anything━” his emphasis on the word and what that implies makes you feel more comforted than anything has since the whole fiasco started, “━then you let me know, or you tell one of the other boys and they’ll find me, alright?”

All you can do is nod.

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yourusername there’s no place like home

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━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry

━━ a/n: no lando yet, but we've got a cutesy little grealish scene to make up for it because i couldn't have a story with manchester city and not include him! lowkey writing this part made me wanna write for a footballer too... anyways! hope you all enjoy!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 3 months ago

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DRABBLE: HE & YOU ON WASH DAY 🫧 (18+) (JJK) (For Black!Fem!Readers)

Writer’s Note: I came up with this little Drabble after seeing a video of a Black girl teaching her white BF how to wash, moisturize, derange & do her hair. It was soooo CUTE & stuck in the back of my head, so I decided to let my inspiration flow. Thank God too cuz i realize i haven’t written a Drabble in literally FOREVER. I’ll make an effort to put out more before 2025 comes. I hope y’all enjoy!

I also tried to incorporate different types of Black hairstyles, textures & types for each character. All comments are welcome on front (but keep it respectful). Thank you & again, enjoy! -Jazz 🥰

*******

GOJO

This man swears he knows what he’s doing.

You’ll admit that Gojo is good at everything: singing, dancing, gaming, cooking, fighting, yapping…especially yapping. He’s also good at being a boyfriend. He is the most attentive, affectionate, loving man you’ve ever met and you’re so grateful to have him—the handsome, sexy, popular Gojo Satoru—as your partner.

He manages to help you with everything else you don’t have enough time to get to or are having trouble with, such as cooking and cleaning. What’s the difference between that and washing your hair, he wonders? When you tell him that your hair is much different and requires a traditional regime that could last HOURS, Gojo just waves you off.

“Baby, c’mon,” he scoffs, holding you in his lap and squeezing you to him as if you’ll disappear. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m good at everything. You think I can’t help you out with your pretty hair?” He gives you a big, confident, gigawatt smile that makes you melt.

“You sure?” You ask, your arms wrapped around his neck as he places his hands on your hips. He rocks you in his arms like you’re his baby…which you are. He always shows that any chance he gets. “‘Cause it’s a job, ‘Tarou. My hair isn’t like yours.”

Gojo scoffs, running a hand through the maze of dark kinky twists that is your hair. “Obviously,” he chuckles. “And I love that. I love your hair and I wanna help you take care of it! C’mon, what’s the rocket science in washin’ hair?”

But that self-assurance and cockiness quickly fades when you show him all the products you use for your hair, explaining each one in great detail. Then you show him the proper way to wash your hair which results in him getting water all over himself and the floor. Then, once you’re done, you try to show him how to detangle, moisturize, and cornrow your hair with a comb but to also rely on your fingers to do the work.

By the time you finish, you do most of the work while Gojo sits there looking like you just tried to explain to him why the Earth is flat. Poor baby’s blue eyes are so wide that you’re afraid they’ll roll out of his skull. He is down in the dumps afterward, snuggling into your chest. “I’m sorry, babe,” he mutters into your boobs. “I fucked up. I’m no good at this shit.”

You coo to him, running a hand through his white locks. “Satoru, baby, it’s not a big deal—“

“Yes the fuck it is!” He protests, sitting up to look at you. “You’re my girlfriend! I should know how to do your hair! But don’t worry; I’m gonna learn all about this if it fuckin’ kills me.”

And he makes you hold him to that. Not the type to give up or give in, Gojo spends the next week learning everything there is to know about Black hair: your type of hair; how to take care of it; if creams or oils work best to keep it moisturized; how to cornrow for beginners, etc. You let him drag you to the hair supply store to buy products and practice on you, giggling to yourself about how cute he is trying to do all of this for you.

After two weeks, you and Gojo go for round two. This time, you let him take the reins washing your hair. He is attentive and delicate with your hair, his long fingers scrubbing and massaging the shampoo in. You find yourself sighing at the feeling, melting at his touch. “You like that, baby?” He asks among the running water.

Chuckling when you hum in agreement, he presses a kiss to the back of your neck as you stand bend over the sink. “Y’know, I could always relax you more with somethin’ else,” he whispers.

That’s when you feel his very obvious hard dick pressing against your ass. You gasp, reaching back to swat him. “Gojo!” You whine. “You freak!”

“What?” He protests, grinning. “Ya can’t blame me for gettin’ hard by this! You look hot with your natural hair, babe, and runnin’ my hands through it is even better. It’s so soft and pretty, like you!” He grinds his hips into your ass, giving you a feel of the hot bulge pressing against his sweatpants. And you know he’s free-balling, the slut. No boxers at all!

“Y’know,” he says, his voice sultry and teasing, “all I have to do is pull these little shorts down and—“

“Uh-uh!” You shout, tossing some soapy water at him. He dodges it effortlessly. “Not while you’re supposed to be helpin’ me, asshole! Now maybe if you do a good job with my hair, we can do somethin’ about your very big problem.” You bend over the sink again, giggling when you brush your ass against Gojo’s hard dick and emit a groan from him.

And ‘do a good job’ he does, surprisingly. After you wash and condition your hair with his help, Gojo sits you down between his long legs and towel dries your hair before helping you successfully moisturize and plat it in small, wet cornrows going down your scalp.

This takes about an hour and during it all, Gojo is patient and loving with your hair. He detangles each knot with a comb, delicately threads each strand of hair, and doesn’t complain about how long it takes.

And you fall more in love with him during that hour.

Once done, he sits on the edge of the bed like a patient dog waiting for its treat while you admire his work in the mirror. After a few seconds, you slowly turn to him and smile. “Not bad,” you comment. “Not bad at all.” He breaks out into a gigantic grin. “I told you!” He laughs before yanking you over.

You giggle as you fall into him, straddling his lap. “Now, what’s about you doin’ somethin’ about my ‘very big’ problem?” He whispers, grinding his hips up into yours. Sure enough, he’s still hard. Pressing a slow kiss to his lips that steals your breath, you sneak your hands down to untie his sweats. “Let me show you,” you whisper. “After all, you did just a good job for me.”

Many hours later, after making him cum his brains out down your throat and putting you into the mattress, Gojo wants to be part of your wash days ALL THE TIME now.

CHOSO

This cutie patootie wants to know everything and anything about your beautiful hair. He loves it soooo much!

He loves staring at it and watching how it glows in the sunlight. He loves how bouncy your curls are when you walk. He loves running his hands through it when you kiss (though most of the time, he’s afraid to touch it in fear of ruining it).

Any time he catches you sitting in the bathroom doing your hot oil treatment, he asks so many questions:

“Why do you need to wear that big-ass helmet?”

“If you use hair grease and hair oil, won’t that oversaturate your hair?”

“How do you do this every single day? Doesn’t that get tiring?”

“Why don’t you let me help you one day?”

You love your hair too. It took you years to grow and maintain it, so you take your long, bouncy curls very seriously. So you have your own regime, especially when drying and setting your hair once it’s clean.

When you explain all of this to Choso at the hair supply store, the man looks like you’re trying to explain another language to him. “What does ‘set’ mean?” He asks as you drag him to the hair care aisles. “What does that have to do with washing your hair?”

“No, no, no,” you hurriedly say, searching the shelves for that one scalp grease that you always use. You ran out, so that’s why you dragged Choso out of the house to go get more plus a new bonnet and a comb because your favorite one broke.

“That comes AFTER I wash my hair. ‘Setting’ means sectioning and putting my hair in curlers so they come out the way you like.”

Choso stops with his hand still in yours, standing between some shelves of creams and some shelves of shampoo. You turn to him, confused. “What? Baby, you agreed to help me! We’re losin’ daylight here!”

You motion to the outside where the sun is shining and the sky is blue. “The way I like?” Choso parrots. You blink, perplexed. “You said you set your hair so it comes out how I like,” he clarifies. “Do you not like it when your hair comes out another way?”

He cocks his head to the side, his pierced brow quirked slightly. You feel yourself grow hot with embarrassment in his black hoodie that you “borrowed” (stole, but he gave it to you anyway, loving how it looks on you instead) from him.

“Uh…w-well, no girl likes it when her hair doesn’t come out right,” you mutter. “I just like it when my hair looks pretty…y’know…sexy.”

Choso’s expression softens, making him look so much like a soft-eyed teddy bear despite his tattoos and piercings. He is aware of your slight love-hate relationship with your hair when it’s not ‘hair-ing’ right.

You love it when your curls are the right length and bounce. It makes you feel so feminine and sexy. Sexy enough to let Choso pull on them during sex and run his fingers through it during a sloppy, slow make-out session.

Not when it’s frizzy. Not when you just get it wet and it shrinks back to its natural itty-bitty kinks. Not when it’s—

“Stop it.” As if he can hear your thoughts, Choso puts his hands on your shoulders and gently coaxes you to look up at him. Into his pretty, gray eyes. “You know damn well I love your hair no matter what it looks like,” he softly says. “You should too, babydoll. Don’t sweat that shit.”

He takes your hand and puts it on his head, right between his spiked ponytails. “You think I give a fuck about what my hair looks like all the time?” He asks, smirking.

You cluck your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “Yeah,” you mutter, “but you’re a guy! And Black hair is much different than yours. A-And there’s so many different types and—Mmph!”

You moan in surprise as Choso’s lips suddenly press against yours, silencing you. His lip ring pushes against your bottom lip, cool and enticing. It grounds you.

When you pull away, he brushes your nose with his in an Eskimo kiss—one thing he only does in private because of how “cutesy” it is. “You feel better now?” He asks. You nod, winded from his kiss.

“You gonna let me buy you your shit and not have a panic attack in the middle of the store?” He asks. Once again, you nod, a smile stretching onto your lips.

“And you’re gonna remember you’re my pretty little girlfriend no matter what, right?” He whispers, sliding a hand against your ass as you both start to walk again.

You nod, wrapping your arm around his waist. “Mmm-hmm,” you shyly hum. “And you’re my hot little boyfriend.” You slide your hand down to his ass, squeezing it.

Choso blushes hot red, tsking. “I’m not little,” he grunts, making you laugh.

GETO

Admittedly, Geto has never thought too much about hair….that is until he met you.

He couldn’t get enough of your beautiful, long braids that swayed in the breeze. How they accentuated all of the shapes, lines, and features of your pretty face. How you wore it up, down, twisted…even braided! He didn’t even know you could braid braids! But when you showed up on your first date with the black coils in one big French braid, he was sold as yours and yours alone.

He didn’t know you could wash braids too without taking them out, but now he does. When he comes home from running errands (gym and picking up some lunch), he hears the shower running and you humming to Giveon, which means you're still washing your hair.

He smiles, placing the paper bag of stir fry and your favorite drink on the counter. “Baby!” he calls. “Food’s here!” He takes off his shoes and puts them at the door, just about ready to get some water after his vigorous workout when he hears something fall and your pretty voice yelp in pain.

“Ow!” you shriek. Geto quickly springs into action, running up the steps in his polo socks and gym shorts. He nearly slips across the floor and breaks his neck when he gets to the bathroom. “Baby?” he calls. “Baby, what happened? Did you fall?”

You're standing in the shower in your soaked bra and panties, sudsy, foamy shampoo running down your braids. “No, worse!” you groan, holding your left eye. “I got shampoo in my eye! God fuckin’ dammit, that burns!”

You try to grab a towel, but Geto stops you. “Uh-uh, don’t move,” he orders. “Let me do it." He helps you out of the running shower and holds your wet braids back for you. "Lean your back head.” You do so and he wets a washrag before dabbing it on your eye.

After a minute, your eye stops stinging and you're able to open it. Geto dabs away water and soap dripping down the side of your face. “Bad hair wash day, I’m assuming?”

You nod, huffing in embarrassment and frustration. “One of my braids smacked me in the face and I almost went blind. This is usually a messy job, so I do ‘em in the shower.”

Geto stares at you in confusion, puzzled by what you mean. “So you...wash your braids?” he curiously asks. “How does that work?” He looks like a puppy being taught a new trick and you find it so endearing.

“Oh, you just massage the shampoo in the scalp and down the braids,” you explain, motioning to your scalp. “It gets the gunk from hair product and dirt out. Then I put my braids down to let the water wash everything out.” You sigh, rubbing your sore forearm. “My arms are so tired though,” you groan.

You've been at this for almost an hour now since Geto left to run errands and have barely gotten through it yet. Then you still have to blowdry your braids to make sure your entire scalp is dry which makes another whole hour. Noticing the stressful look on your face, Geo decides he doesn' like i and wans o help his baby a any cos. “Lemme help you then.”

You blink a him, watching as he takes off his socks and begins washing his hands under he showerhead. “What?!” you exclaim. “Sugu, baby, no, i-it’s fine! It’s not a two-person job and you’ll get your clothes all wet and—“

“Who said anythin’ about clothes?” he cuts in. He gives you a humored smile as he begins to peel off his white tank top. “That’s a silly thought, but a cute one.” Flashing his pearly whites at you, he strips off his shirt, revealing his perfectly-defined, toned upper and lower torsos. Your eyes roam over his squeezable pecs, both nipples pierced, big, inked arms, washboard abs, and cut V-line and sides littered in tattoos. He’s truly a beautiful specimen, your boyfriend.

As he tosses his shirt to the side, you suddenly don’t want to wash your hair anymore. Instead, you’d like to wash Geto’s delicious body, see it drip with water and soap, and then do it all over again because you end up fucking each other instead. “B-but…your hair,” you weakly protest. “It’ll get all wet.”

Geto smiles, pulling a hairband out of his pocket and tying his long hair up in a bun. That only arouses you more. “Hush, my love,” he coos, pressing a finger to your lips. You resist the urge to suck on it. “Don’t worry about me—worry about these gorgeous braids.” He takes your hand and guides you into the shower. While you stand near the running water, he stands behind you, making your entire body feel hot and tingly. “Just tell me what to do.”

The hair-washing process only happens for about ten minutes. As soon as you feel Geto’s thick fingers massaging your scalp and running through your braids, gentle and careful, your pussy flips into overdrive and gushes in your panties. Soon, your undies come off, Geto’s shorts come down, and hands are roaming over body parts and skin. Lips are on lips, tongues are swirling together, his hands are on your ass, and yours are all over him.

Soon, that somehow leads to him picking you up and fucking you against the shower wall, your moans swallowed up by the water and Giveon playing on your phone. His cock drives deliciously in and out of you as his hips grind against yours, your legs and arms tightly wrapped around him. “I didn’t know this was a part of your routine, baby,” he pants in your ear. “But if it is, count me the fuck in.” His hand is in your hair, your braids wrapped around his fist. “Want me to tug ‘em harder, mama?”

“Yes!” You desperately shout. “Yes, Sugu, please! I’m so close!” You can feel your cunt spasming around him, your hand slipped between you and him to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. Geto picks up the pace, his yummy moans and grunts filling the steamy shower as he pounds your pussy against the shower wall. “Pull my hair,” he pleadingly says. “Do it hard, baby. I’m ‘bout to cum too.”

You do as he says and dig your fingers into his hair, tugging on the wet, black locks. He groans at the feeling, his eyes fluttering shut and his handsome face screwed in ecstasy. Seeing him like that makes you cum instantly, a high-pitched moan of his name leaving your lips.

His own orgasm is triggered too and quickly pulls out before cumming in unison with you all over your thighs and the shower wall. His lips swoop yours up in a hot, slow tongue-kiss that makes your intense orgasm that much more explosive as your body loses tension and you feel like mush.

Finally, Geto pulls away, his eyes hooded and a lazy smile on his face. “Oh, look,” he chuckles. He points to your wet braids and his dripping hair. “All clean.”

NANAMI

He can’t get enough of your Afro.

Seriously. He stares at it any chance he gets. On his free time, when he isn’t working or telling Gojo to leave him alone, Nanami is calculating the circumference of your perfectly-round, full Afro and how long it takes you to get it in such a perfect, round shape. How does it defy gravity the way it does? Does it ever deflate? What do you do to make it so soft? He often wonders this when you allow him to touch it. He feels so blessed that you bestow such an honor to him.

He realizes later that maintaining such a beautiful hairstyle is a lot of work. One day, on a boring Sunday that is meant as your “self-care” day, he watches you as you sit near the kitchen sink in a chair, your thick hair sectioned into four parts with scrunchies. He’d laugh at such the cute yet silly look you’ve got going on if you didn’t look so sad and defeated doing it. You’ve only gotten through one part, washing it by hand with shampoo.

Wanting to make things easier for his love, Nanami moves behind you and wraps his arms around you from behind. “You look so tired, my love,” he sighs. “Why don’t you let me help you?” You look up at him, confused. Nanami has watched you wash your hair a couple of times to know what you do and what you use.

He first coaxes you to stand up and turns the chair around so you’re facing away from the sink. After filling the sink up with warm water, he rolls his sleeves up to his forearms, much to your liking, and lathers his hands up in your favorite lavender-mint-rosemary shampoo. He takes one part of hair out of your scrunchie and proceeds to scrub it, lathering it in the soap. He does the same to the others, massaging your scalp in the process.

Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of his skillful and careful hands in your hair, your body relaxing in your chair. “Oh,” you moan. You haven’t had anyone wash your hair for you since your mother when you were young. And to have your partner, who isn’t Black, do such a good and careful job with your hair is such a sweet gesture of your kind of love language.

“That feels nice?” He asks, happy to hear the sound. You press your lips into a thin line, humiliated by the sound slipping out of your mouth. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he chuckles. “I want you to relax. Wash days should be relaxing, not…” He pauses, searching for the right word.

“Fuckin’ stressful?” You offer, sighing as the warm water cascades over your scalp. “Yeah, but you’re not the only carryin’ around a big ass ball of hair on your head.” Nanami laughs, pressing. Kiss to your forehead. “A beautiful ball of hair, actually.” He works the water through your hair from root to tip, taking gentle care of each strand of your hair. You melt into his touch, falling in love with him deeper and deeper.

Once he finishes washing your hair, he empties the sink of all of the water and tells you to lean back so your hair can drip into the sink. “This actually kinda feels like a spa,” you giggle. Maybe you can give me a massage after this.” Nanami chuckles, flinging the water and suds off of his hands before chastely kissing you on the lips. “Let me get the towel.”

You keep your eyes closed as he leaves and quickly returns with a towel. First, he lathers your hair up in conditioner, gently massaging your scalp with the thick, creamy, floral-scented substance. Then, suddenly, you feel something cold over your eyes and hear the sound of relaxing flute music playing from somewhere. “What are you doin’, sir?” You giggle.

You feel Nanami’s lips ghost over your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Shh, no talking at the spa” he whispers. His hands are firm yet gentle as they press into your temples while your hair drips into the sink. “Can I get you a drink, miss? Perhaps you’d want massage here?” He begins to trail his fingers down your neck, each place his fingers touch leaving a trail of fire. “Or maybe…here?”

He trails down to your shoulders, giving you a firm rub. As he does, your nipples harden beneath your sports bra and your sweats suddenly feel entirely too tight. “You’re getting warmer,” you purr. A soft, seductive hum comes from Nanami’s throat that drives you insane as his hands trail down to your chest.

“You mean…here?” He gently cascades his hands over your breasts, brushing against your hard nipples beneath the thin material of your sports bra.

His hands then go back up to your shoulders, teasing you. You whimper, desperate for attention. “That’s not fair,” you whine. “You’ve got me all warm now.” Your boyfriend chuckles, his fingers kneading your shoulder muscles. “I thought that was the point.” He suddenly pauses. “Or…do you mean…”

You take the cold compress (which you find is an eye mask) off of your eyes to look up at your man and slowly move your hand to cup his cock. To your joy, you find that he is semi-hard. Nanami tuts but keeps your hand on his dick. “Miss, this is very improper for a spy,” he says, mock-offended. He leans down toward you, his minty breath fanning across your face. “But I suppose I could make an exception for you.”

He leans in closer, closer, and you think he’s going to kiss you. You lean up, desperate for his lips on yours. “After I condition, dry, moisturize, and grease your hair,” he adds. He turns the water on again and puts the eye mask back on your eyes. “What?!” You squeak. “Kento, nooo, pleeeease!” Your pussy throbs in desperate, insisting that he touches you right here, right now.

Nanami presses a finger to your lips, silencing you. “No whining,” he says. “Besides, all good things come to those who wait, my love.” He presses a kiss to your forehead before you feel the warm water on your hair rinsing out the conditioner. “Now enjoy your spa session.”

You do. You enjoy all of the work Nanami does on your hair, including what you instruct him to do. But truth be told, you enjoy the work he does on your body two hours later in the comfort of your bedroom.

With your hair safely wrapped up in a towel and bonnet for extra protection, your leg is tossed over Nanami’s broad shoulder as his hips piston into yours, his cock stroking your insides and his fingers teasing your clit. “Told you good things come to those who wait,” he grunts. “Are you gonna cum for me now?”

You vigorously shake your head, staring up with heart eyes at the handsome blonde above you. “N-No!” You whimper. “Not until you say, Daddy! I promise!”

Nanami smiles and presses a kiss to your ankle that nearly has you combusting all over the sheets. “That’s my good, pretty girl.” Your boyfriend has now become a new and important addition to your wash days.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #my drabbles #black coded reader #jjk smut #black hair #wash day #ambw #nanami x black!reader #satoru gojo x black!reader #suguru geto x black!reader #choso x black!reader #black readers

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