#i knew he was young and like a prodigy but i still thought he was a bit older | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wisecura · 2 months ago

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megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1 ⁭ ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.2

AN: this is still being edited and I'm not entirely sure if it'll be everyone's cup of tea. it'll be a slow burn, and a long fic but I have an idea laid out! each chapter will be around 3k just to keep things spaced and easy. Thank you for reading!

warnings: i'm putting these here for future chapters too, and ill sprinkle some in as I go. I want to make it clear, there is no underage sex, but later on there will be some more raunchy shit. this is somewhat non-canon compliant-make it up as I go

-ok for the real warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build. I'm already 20,000 words into this shit so if your ready lets ride.

Short summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside his moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy.

Lets Begin

Your arranged marriage with Toji Fushiguro had been quick and unexpected.

The black sheep of the Zenin clan wasn’t exactly known for his well-rounded reputation, teetering on the edge of severing all ties to his family at any given moment.

He hadn’t been in contact with them for years, and financial support on their end was nonexistent. He was constantly broke, especially after Megumi was born. He assumed it was retaliation for marrying outside the clan—without their approval. But when his late wife passed, he had already taken on her surname, somewhat severing himself from the dingey clan he had once called "family."

After her death, he picked up side gigs, earning just enough to provide for the two of them. Megumi was older now, around thirteen, which made it easier to leave him alone for longer periods. Toji often took days-long "business" trips.

He’ll admit he wasn’t a great father, but he had kept his promise of keeping Megumi away from the Zenin clan and that sorcerer bullshit.

That was until he received an official notification from the Zenin clan head.

He hadn’t heard from the bastard in years, only to be met with a request—a demand—for his compliance in an arranged marriage. Initially, he planned to refuse. He wasn’t interested in an arranged marriage, wanted nothing to do with the sorcerer world, and even less to do with the Zenin clan. Hell, the only reason he bothered showing up at the clan house that day was to set that fucker straight.

Then he saw you—a pretty little thing. You couldn’t have been more than ten years younger than him, likely just turning seventeen, maybe eighteen. He couldn’t say for sure. But you were just too young for this shit—he knew that much.

They’d already brought you along for the proposal, as if they knew it would change his mind when he saw you. And, fuck, if they weren’t right.

You were beautiful. Polished and respectable. Speaking in low tones like the proper little housewife he was sure they’d trained you to be. He could see the endgame here—the reasoning behind pushing this arrangement on him. It wasn’t subtle.

The higher-ups likely wanted a presence in his home—someone to keep tabs on him and Megumi, no doubt. They hadn’t explicitly stated as much, but Toji had caught whispers through the grapevine about their interest in his son’s cursed technique. And with his own tendency to remain elusive, (and with all the whispers of him being titled a Sorcerer Killer) it wasn’t surprising that they’d want to keep a closer watch on him, too.

The thought of them using someone barely older than Megumi to achieve their goals left a bitter taste in his mouth. The arrangement reeked of manipulation—a calculated ploy to plant a spy in his home, someone to funnel information back to your clan, his clan, and the higher-ups.

Toji didn’t give a rats ass about his reputation, but it was clear they were fishing for confirmation. Likely hoping to uncover all of the unconfirmed truths. No matter how much he tried to brush it off, the whole setup just didn’t sit right with him.

But when he caught the way your eyes stayed steady, unwavering. You looked nearly indifferent to the situation, but he could tell this wasn’t what you wanted. It couldn’t be. You were really just a child. And yet, that dead expression of yours sealed the deal.

He accepted.

Another mouth to feed, another brat to deal with, no doubt. But maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to help keep Megumi in line while he was out working. Better that than leaving you to the wolves. He understood the clan system all too well—how they saw their women, how they treated them.

He’d seen how young brides were shuffled like pawns, in a game of chess. Paired with whichever man could best serve the clan’s interests. The thought of you being handed off to another pathetic bastard made his stomach churn. At least here, under his roof, you wouldn’t have to endure that.

Call it generosity if you wanted. But if he were honest, it wasn’t that. You reminded him of his late wife—the fearlessness bordering on defiance in your eyes. The sheer willpower it must’ve taken to show up in the first place. Most girls in your situation would have cried or begged, pleading not to marry some old geezer, especially one as infamous in the community.

But you didn’t beg. Didn’t cry. You just stood there, composed, unshaken. Bored. You could’ve been out shopping for groceries.

He could respect that.

And like that, the black sheep of the Zenin clan would become your husband. Your family. And your sole protector.

He remembers the quiet way you stepped into his apartment for the first time, your gaze sweeping the room with a calm, measured air. There was no hesitation, no unease—just a quiet assessment of the space, as though you were cataloging everything in that sharp mind of yours.

The look on your face didn’t match someone your age. You carried the weight of forced maturity, a burden that stirred old painful memories he immediately shoved back down.

He could tell you were judging, though you didn’t say anything out loud. It was in the faint crease of your brow, the almost imperceptible way your lips tightened. It sparked a flicker of irritation in him, the kind he couldn’t entirely shake. If you didn’t like it, you didn’t have to stay, yeah?

But, color him surprised, you didn’t say a word. You’d easily found your way to his bedroom, setting your things down, navigating the house easily. Then, as if you’d been living there for years, you got straight to work.

No requests, no questions—just quiet purpose.

It was like you’d already claimed your space, like you’d accepted the role handed to you without a second thought. He wasn't necessarily gonna ask you to do all that, but hell he sure as hell wasn't going to complain.

Your former clan had trained you well. He could see it in the efficiency of your movements, the way you moved through the apartment as though it were second nature. No questions asked, no instructions, no unnecessary chatter. Just straight down to business.

Toji didn’t linger.

He slipped out quietly, already lost in his thoughts about the job he had to handle. He’d be gone for two days—maybe one, if he played his cards right. Not that he needed to tell you. You didn’t need to know the details. You were here to stay put, to take care of things while he was gone. Simple as that.

As he rounded the corner outside the apartment, that nagging feeling crept in—a vague itch at the back of his mind, like he was forgetting something.

He paused mid-step, frowning as he patted his pockets. Wallet? Keys? No, he had those.

His smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly shrugged it off, muttering under his breath, "Can't be that important."

Megumi had taken the long way home today.

Several boys in his class had been pissing him off to no end, and he’d been itching to punch something. He needed a distraction—something to cool him off. He really couldn’t afford to get into another fight. The pitying looks his teachers gave him felt degrading, especially when Toji never bothered to show to pick him up.

The long way home was scenic, at least. Trees and plants lined the path, offering some peace as he trudged along. He wasn’t sure whether Toji would even be home when he arrived. He never really knew for certain.

And honestly, Megumi wasn’t in the mood to hear his dad’s loud TV shows or his obnoxious phone calls. If he wasn’t, then the apartment would just be empty, cold, and silent.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

What Megumi really cared about was dinner.

The fridge had been empty for weeks, and his deadbeat dad hadn’t bothered to restock it. Megumi had been scraping by, finding ways to earn enough cash for food. Sometimes he’d deliver things for the neighbors or help them with spring cleaning. Those odd jobs usually kept him going, but lately, there hadn’t been any requests. The lack of work only adding to his frustration.

He didn’t interact with Toji much. Their relationship walked a thin line between hatred and indifference. Most of the time, Megumi ignored his father, as much as Toji seemed to ignore him. On the rare occasions Toji remembered Megumi existed, it always ended in chaos—loud arguments, dismissive grunts, relentless teasing, or worse, painfully awkward attempts to act like a parent.

It had been that way ever since Megumi turned eleven. And today, more than anything, he was just hungry. Too hungry to fight with his absentee father, even if he was home. Too tired to care.

Walking up the stairs to his apartment, something caught his eye. The kitchen window was open. That stopped him in his tracks.

Toji wasn’t the kind of guy to leave windows open, even in decent weather—a weird thing to notice, but Megumi was always acutely aware of his surroundings, always attuned to his father’s patterns.

Megumi made his way inside, creeping slowly and so, so quietly. Peeking around the corner, he froze.

Someone was in the kitchen—a girl. No, a woman?

Your back was to him as you worked at the counter, slicing onions with quick, precise movements. He blinked, his sharp eyes narrowing. You were young—maybe just a few years older than him.

Younger than Toji’s usual type, that was for sure. You didn’t fit. Toji wasn’t a stranger to bringing women around the apartment, but they never looked like you. And they never lingered. Most were gone by breakfast, hurrying out with an awkward smile and a strained “bye” when they spotted Megumi at the table.

He watched you chop onions, noticing the glint of a ring on your finger. So, you were married—

“You can come out from there, y’know.”

Megumi flinched slightly, caught off guard. For a brief moment, he felt the sting of embarrassment—spying and getting caught really wasn’t a good look—but he quickly reminded himself this was his home.

He had no reason to feel embarrassed. Straightening his posture, he stepped out from behind the doorway, his sharp eyes fixed on you as you casually wiped your hands on a towel.

You turned to face him, a soft smile playing on your lips. The first thing he noticed was how pretty you were.

Tall and poised, you stood at least a head above him, dressed in modest, traditional clothing that seemed entirely out of place in this shabby apartment. There was something elegant about you, a kind of refinement that felt worlds away from the usual sleaziness of his father’s one-night stands.

“Who are you? Why’re you here?” His tone came out sharper than he intended. Unintentionally huffy and childish, and it made him pause a second.

You studied him for a moment, and for some reason his scowl almost endearing. You introduce yourself and explain, simply, that you lived here.

Megumi’s brow furrowed, and he crossed his arms, his voice ever defiant, no doubt pushed from the shitty day he just had. “You don’t live here. Leave.”

The attempt at a threat would’ve been more intimidating if his stomach hadn’t chosen that moment to growl, easily breaking the tension. You bit back a laugh, quickly covering your mouth, but it was hard not to find the situation amusing.

The way he stood there, furrowed brow and stubborn glare, reminded you of a fussy kitten—all bristling fur and misplaced bravado. It was clear he wasn’t used to strangers lingering in his space, and his defensiveness only made him seem all the more adorable. Still, he was being serious��you really shouldn’t laugh.

He looked so much like Toji—same sharp features, same brooding energy—minus the flat hair and scar. You’d heard about him before coming here, mentioned briefly by your clan head, but the reality of meeting him was something different. He was much cuter than you’d expected, truly embodying the “fussy kitty” vibe, and you had to resist the urge to tease him outright.

“Ah,” lightly, your tone as soothing as you could make it without giggling, “but I’m in the middle of cooking. Why don’t we eat first, and then we can talk?”

Your tone was gentle, your smile genuine, and Megumi couldn’t sense any malice from you. Besides, whatever you were making smelled incredible, and his stomach had been growling from the moment he walked in.

His gaze shifted to the counter, where ingredients and half-prepped dishes were laid out. He hesitated. Sure, his dad had brought women home before, but none of them ever bothered to cook—especially not for him. Against his better judgment, he gave a small, reluctant nod.

And before long, the two of you were sitting at the kitchen table, three plates set neatly in front of you. It was late, but you still held onto the idea that Toji might come home. You made light conversation with Megumi, trying to get a feel for the boy you now understood to be your stepson.

You’d been briefed by your clan about Toji and his son—vague instructions to “watch Toji” and “get on his son's good side.” They hadn’t been specific about why, but their motives were never selfless. Still, you had no intention of playing those games. Not fully.

What you wanted was to build an honest connection with your new family, especially with this grumpy, sharp-eyed boy who seemed to have a chip on his shoulder as big as his father’s. It’s the first time you’d really been away from the clan estate, so this was just really nice.

As the meal went on, you began to learn little things about him. He remained distant, of course, his responses clipped and matter-of-fact—but the warmth of a good meal and your gentle smile seemed to soften him, if just slightly. You managed to coax his name out of him, and though he said it without much fanfare, it felt like a small victory.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

It was a Friday night, and you figured Megumi would be around the house tomorrow. As you finished the surprisingly comfortable dinner, your eyes lingered on the third, untouched plate at the table—Toji’s. You wondered, briefly, if he’d show up at all.

“He probably won’t be back tonight,” Megumi said, breaking your train of thought. His voice was matter-of-fact, as if he had long since grown used to this routine. He shoveled another spoonful of food into his mouth before adding, “Probably be gone for a few days.”

This surprised you, sure, but you weren’t going to complain anytime soon. As long as you didn’t have to go back to that horrid clan house, you could put up with a missing husband. In fact, you kind of preferred it this way.

You laughed softly at Megumi’s puffed-up cheeks, causing his ears to dust red as he swallowed quickly. Your constant smiles still seemed to throw him off guard.

The conversation flowed easily—a mix of lighthearted bickering and probing questions on both ends. Megumi was really curious about the random woman that showed up in his home.

“What’s the ring for?” he asked suddenly, his sharp gaze flicking to your hand. His tone was casual, but there was an underlying curiosity, as if he hadn’t noticed the simple band until now.

Your fingers instinctively twisted the warm metal as you glanced down at it, the question catching you off guard.

“Ah, well, I’ve just married,” you replied softly, your voice carrying a faint melancholy despite your attempt to sound neutral. Your eyes zone out as you stare at the heavy band.

“It’s still new…An arrangement by my family.” You hadn’t meant to let that slip, but the truth clung to the edges of your words. Quickly, you smiled, avoiding a damper on the evening. You quickly reached over to ladle another spoonful of food onto Megumi’s empty plate.

“Arranged marriage? With who?” he asked, the concept not foreign but undeniably unsettling. You seemed like such a nice person, except for the fact that you were sitting in his kitchen—someone he’d assumed was just another one of his father’s passing flings.

But unlike the others, you’d cooked for him and his father, cleaned the kitchen till it looked better than it had in weeks. And now you were sitting down to dinner with him, as if you had nothing else you’d rather be doing.

Though he’d only known you for a few hours, he didn’t think you’d be the type to cheat on your husband or worm your way into their lives without cause. Maybe that was just his full stomach talking.

His mind caught up to him, the pieces falling into place.

“…Not…Toji. Right?” His voice faltered, and you couldn’t help but think how strange it was to hear him refer to his father by his first name.

You let out a soft laugh at his shocked expression, restraining yourself from patting his head, before nodding your own. “The one and only,”

The look on his face was comical—brows raised high, his mouth slightly agape. But beneath the initial surprise, there was something darker—an unease that settled into the lines of his frown. Wary, guarded. He didn’t like this, not one bit.

After dinner, you sent Megumi off to bed, tidying up the plates left behind. He didn’t wait for you to finish cleaning, retreating to his room with his thoughts spinning.

As he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t stop replaying the conversation in his head. His father was married—to you, of all people. Supposedly. And for some reason, that knowledge left a bitter taste in his mouth.

It was weird. Megumi had left the house empty and returned to find you. If what you were saying was true, you were about to take over as his stepmother. He wouldn’t put it past his shitty father to pop up suddenly married—it was exactly the kind of thing Toji would do.

Still, the whole situation didn’t sit right with him. An arranged marriage wasn’t out of the question. You seemed way too sweet and proper to have chosen someone like Toji, willingly. Megumi’s knowledge of clan life, hierarchy, or how arranged marriages worked in the sorcerer world, was frustratingly limited thanks to his father’s insistence on keeping him far removed from all of it.

Then there was your age. You were young—too young for his dad. Closer to his age than Toji’s. Was Toji an even bigger pervert than he originally thought? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to settle down. What was this about, then? Did he just want a housemaid? Someone to clean up after him and Megumi while he went off on his “business trips”?

It didn’t seem fair to you. What were you getting out of this arrangement? You did say your family set it up…but what could have possibly led you to agree to marry someone like Toji?

The more Megumi thought about it, the more wrong it all felt. You seemed too kind, too proper, too... normal for this situation. Surely there was more to the story. Were you being forced into this? Did you have your own reasons that you weren’t sharing?

But then again, there was always the chance you were lying.

People lied all the time. You could be some psycho ex-girlfriend worming your way back into his father’s life. Or worse, a manipulative stranger with motives that had nothing to do with Toji at all. Maybe you’d rob the place blind, and by the time he woke up there’d be nothing left.

You might’ve seemed nice now, but Megumi wasn’t about to take anything at face value.

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall, his thoughts racing. He didn’t know what to make of you, couldn’t figure out whether to trust the calm sincerity you projected or to see it for what it might be: a well-crafted facade.

One thing was certain—he wasn’t going to let his guard down so easily.

He’d just have to wait it out, keep an eye on you, and see what happened when Toji finally dragged his ass back home.

p.2?

AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!

I will also be posting updates here:

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/obsessedjjk

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

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Kid

Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader

Summary: You join Arsenal Women at age sixteen

Moving to England hadn't exactly been your plan when you started to play football.

To be honest, there hadn't been a plan at all, seeing as you were four when your parents first signed you up for your local academy in Sweden. It was just an excuse to keep you out of the house, so your parents didn't have to take time off work to look after you when school finished.

It helped that your school was partnered with the academy so a representative would come and walk all the academy students there and back.

Football may have been a convenience but it was clear to everyone that you were somewhat of a prodigy. Linköping Fc signed you as soon as they could, forcing you to make the move from your tiny town to the city.

Your parents were more than happy to finance the move - the kind of parents that happily parent from a distance but brag to all of their friends about how smart, how talented their daughter was.

You were happy to be rid of them.

You were even happier to get the callup for the National Team for the World Cup.

Your chest thudded in your throat when you received the call. You hadn't thought you would get the call-up, not when you were so young, so you had been at a café with some of your school friends when your phone rang.

You had picked it up absentmindedly and almost passed out from shock when Peter revealed he wanted you on the team.

The World Cup came and went and the bronze medal you won stayed with you. You had flat-out refused to give it over to your parents, who wanted to put it in the trophy cabinet in a house you no longer lived in.

The high of the World Cup bled into the high of getting a call to sign for Arsenal.

You hadn't even really thought about it.

You just accepted.

Which was how you had gotten here, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you waited for Stina to lock her car and walk in with you.

●～●～●～●～

You couldn't help but look at your jersey in awe. Your number combined with your last name on the back of an Arsenal jersey felt like a dream come true.

"There she is," Amanda said when you finally wandered into the meeting room, free from media duty. She pushed out a chair that was clearly meant for you at the table she was sitting at.

You sat in the seat awkwardly, suddenly feeling shy and awkward.

"This is y/n," Amanda said to the others, presenting you to them like you were someone really exciting.

"Hi, y/n. I'm Jen."

You didn't tell her that you already knew who she was, who they all were. You just sat there and let everyone introduce themselves to you because that was the polite thing to do.

"Hi."

"You're young, aren't you?" Asked Kim, even though you knew that she probably already knew that.

You nodded though. "Yeah." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm sixteen."

"But she's a superstar." It was nice of Amanda to butt in. It saved you from having to speak.

"I think we know that," McCabe said with an eye roll," I think we all saw that match-winning goal against Australia."

You winced slightly as you snuck a glance to McCabe's other side where Catley sat, the very defender that you megged before scoring your goal.

Your eyes widened in horror when she made eye contact. "Sorry." You looked down at your lap, hiding your shaking hands under the table.

"Don't sweat it, kid," Catley replied with an easy grin," No hard feelings. It was a good call." She smirked at you. "Though, the deer in headlights look you had after it went in was pretty funny."

Laughter rang out through the group and you relaxed marginally, groaning at the reminder. Everyone you knew had sent that picture to you and you knew for a fact that it was still circulating the internet as a meme.

●～●～●～●～

It was easy to settle into life at Arsenal.

You were still shy and awkward off the pitch but you fit in well with the other girls and Lina, Stina and Amanda were always ready to sweep you away when they noticed you getting too overwhelmed.

Somewhere along the way Catley became Steph and McCabe became Katie.

You weren't really sure when that happened but it was a welcome change from when you first joined.

"Come on, kid. You've been studying too much," Katie said as an arm dragged you away from your laptop to where the others were playing FIFA.

You were dumped between Less and Vic while Lina laughed.

"She's always studying."

You rolled your eyes. "Just because you don't have to go to school anymore, doesn't mean that I don't."

"Online school isn't really school," Cloe said before swearing when Gio scored another goal," It's like...school without the deadlines."

"Except the deadline is before Christmas," You replied with a huff," I have essays to write, Katie! Let me go!"

"Don't let her go, girls," Katie said from where she was curled up with Caitlin.

Alessia mockingly saluted as she bracketed you in her arms while Vic pinned down your legs.

"Less! Vic!" You squawked as you tried to wiggle away from them.

Their holds were unrelenting and made even worse when Kyra popped up out of nowhere, digging her fingers into your side and tickling you like you had personally offended her or something.

"Stop! Stop!" You laughed, tears running down your face as Kyra remained unrelenting. "Cait-Caitlin! Caitlin, help!"

Caitlin looked at you thoughtfully, humming to herself before giving you a faux look of sympathy. "Sorry, y/n, I can't. You see, I'm still holding a grudge against you for grabbing that bronze medal." She winked to let you know she was joking.

"Oh, come on!"

●～●～●～●～

It took you nearly two weeks of being in London to meet the ACL squad and it was only because Kathrine slid in for a tackle at the wrong time and hit your ankle.

You hadn't even been on the ground for that long but it was enough that Jonas sent Gio to take you to the physios to get it taped up with an extremely apologetic Kathrine following after you.

"I'm so sorry," She was saying when Gio shepherded you into the room," I'll make up for it. How does one of those big jelly baby packs sound?"

"I'm not allowed to eat them," You replied," Stina said that they'll rot my teeth."

"Fine, fine, I'll think of something. How about dinner? I'll buy you dinner for your cheat day. Just tell me when."

You rolled your eyes, having no intention of doing so but still nodded.

"What's up with all this commotion?"

You had to admit, seeing Leah Williamson in person made you feel a little starstruck and you immediately retreated into yourself.

Gio jerked her thumb at Kathrine. "Kuhl hurt the kid and seeing as we need the kid, Jonas wants her ankle taped."

"My ankle's fine," You said stubbornly but allowed a physio to usher you onto the bed between Goldie and Wienriother. You gave them both one of your trademark awkward smiles as you let the physio pull off your boot and socks.

You didn't want to look at your ankle, already knowing it was bruised by the way that you saw Goldie wince sympathetically at you while the physio moved away to grab some ice.

"That looks nasty," She said," Does it hurt?"

"Not too bad."

"I'm Teyah, by the way."

"y/n."

"I know." She smiled at you. "It's nice that there's someone younger than me and Naomi now."

You looked down bashfully. "Happy to be of service."

Next to you, Weinriother laughed. "Don't mind Teyah, she's just glad no one will call her kid anymore. I'm Laura, by the way."

"And I'm Beth!" She leaned over Laura to shake your hand before indicating to where her girlfriend was being worked on. "That's Viv, she's a little prickly sometimes but if you ever need some peace and quiet, I'm sure she wouldn't mind you sitting with her."

You nodded, still feeling a little awkward even though the tension had disappeared.

"You're living with Stina, right?" Leah asked," How's that going?"

"Good," You replied, focussed on the way that the physio was moving your ankle," She lets me play music on the speakers while I study."

Leah laughed. "I live right round the corner. If you ever need a break, feel free to pop in. I reckon I'm more fun than Stina anyway."

●～●～●～●～

You hated asking for help.

You hated it even more when you had to ask for help on schoolwork.

You were smart. You knew you were smart. If there were two things that a lack of parents in your life gave you, it was excellent football skills and the ability to solve your own problems.

But this maths section in your textbook was causing you more pain than a Katie tackle in training ever could.

You glanced around the room. The media room was almost always empty at this time of day - the two and a half hour window between morning training and the gym session.

Almost everyone lived close so headed back home to rest before coming back. Stina had asked if you wanted to head back home with her but you decided not to, needing to finish your maths homework.

Lina had asked if you wanted her to drop you off on her way to her own place as well but you didn't relent.

You hunkered down in the media room with your textbook and, after just over an hour, your eyes stung like you hadn't slept in three days.

You glanced around again and finally swallowed your pride.

"Frida?" You asked the least intimidating person in the room," Can you help me?"

She looked up from her phone. "What is it?" She dragged your textbook towards her. "Oh! I can help!"

Despite her optimism, within a few seconds, it became clear that Frida could absolutely not help you. The more she read through your problems, the deeper her frown got until she was holding a pencil between her fingers and mouthing the question to herself as if that would help her understand.

She looked positively ill when she looked up at you before she cleared her throat. "Lia? Do you know how to do fancy algebra?"

Lia, from across the room, sighed as she approached. "I used to be quite good at algebra," She boasted," What's the problem?"

"Algebra," You deadpanned, shoving the textbook and your notepad at her," Help."

To her credit, she got further than Frida did, jotting down her working out before falling at the last hurdle - just like you did. She frowned. "Give me a second."

She rewrote all of her work but still ended up stumped at the same place as before.

"Kim? Jen? How were you at maths in school?"

Kim and Jen tried to help as well but it was like the blind leading the blind. You were going around in circles.

"When are you going to need this in life?" Kim said, drawing a line through her most reason equation and sighing.

"Unless you want to be an engineer, never." Jen sighed and flipped the book shut. "You don't want to be an engineer, do you, kid?"

"I'm happy playing football."

●～●～●～●～

If you weren't doing schoolwork at every spare moment, it was safe to say that you napping.

Back at National Camp, it wasn't uncommon to find you curled up in bed or with your head in Frido's lap while everyone watched a movie.

It seemed that your need to nap every moment you weren't occupied had carried over to England.

It got a little embarrassing the first few times you had been caught napping in the communal space. It was even worse when you woke up to Viv staring down at you with an unreadable look on her face, taking in your form curled up under your travel blanket.

You had smiled nervously as she stood in front of you, unmoving.

When Beth appeared through the door a moment later, Viv shushed her sternly and tucked your blanket up over your shoulders again, taking a seat nearby with a book.

Beth, it seemed, hadn't been able to keep her mouth shut about it so your constant naps had just become an expected thing and, after Leah had accidentally woken you up and gotten yelled at by Viv for it, the team tended to just leave you alone.

You were slightly delirious and warm when you woke up from your nap, eyes fluttering open and then shut again.

The low murmur of chatter let you know that contrary to when you started your nap, you were now no longer alone.

You were still quite confused, brain still thick with sleep, but you could recognise Sabrina's Canadian-accented English so you gathered that the keepers had finished their morning practice and had found you asleep in the media room.

You also recognised that your head was now slightly elevated so one of them must have moved your head into their lap while you slept. That was nice. Sometimes you would wake up with a crook in your neck from sleeping on the beat-up sofa that Leah swore she was one bad back away from replacing herself.

Your eyes fluttered open again, blearily blinking.

Across from you, Naomi laughed. "The kid's awake."

"I'm not a kid," You said stubbornly even though you were," You're not that much older than me."

"Still older," Naomi replied.

Next to her, Sabrina laughed.

That meant that Manu was sitting with you, your head in her lap. She laughed as well, jolting you slightly as you clutched your travel blanket tighter around your body.

You yawned.

"How long until gym?"

"Hour and a bit," Came Manu's answer.

You hummed and yawned a second time.

"Don't tell me you're going back to sleep," Sabrina said.

"Fine. I won't tell you."

●～●～●～●～

You spent the first few matches stuck on the bench.

You were young and not as experienced as your teammates so it made sense that you would be stuck there for the time being. Besides, it made you feel a little bit better that Kyra was stuck on the bench as well so you had someone who acted younger than you to muck around with.

"Chin up," Laia said with a grin, an arm thrown over your shoulder as she walked onto the pitch with you for warmups," You're starting today. Aren't you excited?"

"You look more excited than me," You replied a little sourly," I...I feel a little sick if I'm honest."

"You'll do great."

"So long as you tie your boots correctly and don't trip," Noelle said in way of greeting.

Your cheeks lit up in flames instantly at the reminder of training a few days ago when Beth had snuck up behind you and made a stupid sound in your ear. You had jumped into the air in shock and your laces weren't tied correctly so you tripped over your own feet and went tumbling to the ground in a way that made you look clumsier than Alessia.

"Don't be mean," Lotte chastised as the four of you passed a ball around," y/n knows how to properly tie her laces." She sent you a teasing smile and a shrug. "Besides, I'm sure she'll have some of the older girls lining up to make sure they're done properly."

You huffed as you kicked the ball back to her. You spun on your heel. "You're all mean," You declared," I'm gonna warm up with Vic and Less."

●～●～●～●～

The ninety minutes of your debut match were gruelling.

The ball went back and forth between the teams. Every shot that went in was equalised quickly. Everyone was growing tired, especially when five minutes of extra time was awarded and Katie was one dirty tackle away from earning herself a yellow card.

You took a moment to catch your breath, pulling up your socks before breaking into a sprint.

The opposing team's defence was in shambles and you could see their goalkeeper getting antsy.

A long ball from Katie fell neatly into Alessia's feet and she began her run.

You followed after her quickly as the opposing defence broke their line. It was carnage for a moment as you both approached the box.

The goalkeeper came off her line ever so slightly as the defence mobbed Alessia, who passed quickly to you.

Your foot moved automatically as you chipped the ball over the goalkeeper's head and into the back of the net.

Your instincts got you the goal so when your brain finally caught up, you were sporting the same look on your face as the one you had when you won against Australia.

The final whistle rang out as you stood there in shock.

Half a moment later, the team crashed into you.

Less made it to you first, pulling you in for a tight hug before everyone else converged on you.

You felt a bit like a dog, with the amount of head pats you were receiving but the blinding smile on your face more than made up for it - especially when Viv meandered over and gave you a hug and congratulations.

"Come on, l/n!" Katie cheered as she dragged you through the victory lap. "Party tonight! I'll pay for the drinks!"

"She's sixteen," Lina reminded her.

"I didn't say we had to go out to a pub! It's legal for sixteen-year-olds to drink at home! What do you say, kid?"

You laughed. "Good luck getting Stina to agree."

#woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal x reader #woso community #woso #woso imagine #woso fanfics

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seouljazzbar · 8 months ago

Text

selfish (m.)

𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹

about— wonbin’s a musical prodigy, having worked alongside critically acclaimed producers, and now he’s your guest lecturer for the semester. correction, your hot lecturer for the semester (producer!wonbin x f.reader)

author’s note— this is a little rough but i still like the way it turned out! title is from this song if anyone's curious hehe i think it's wonbin coded lowkey

warning— language, teacher-student dynamic, me blatantly lying about new york/nyu, alcohol use, (soft?) dirty talk, fingering (f. receiving), whiny wonbin, oral (m. receiving), teasing, penetrative sex (with a condom!!) 18+ MDNI!!!

word count— 5.3k

Thursdays and Fridays from four to six, those were his office hours. It was difficult to have office hours that fit everyone’s schedule and that was the best he could do given he was only a guest lecturer. Even worse, he wasn’t given an office for said hours due to the deconstructed nature of the city. Going to university in New York was already far from traditional, and the conditions were no exception. But Wonbin didn’t mind, reserving a nice table on the second floor of Gregory's coffee on Broadway. It wasn't much but it was enough for the four or five students who took advantage of the time.

You were one of them. You knew all too well the struggle of falling behind in a class by thinking you had a handle on the material, only to be drowning in confusion come midterms. The class, The Sociology of Pop Music, interested you too much for you to risk completely flopping just because you failed to utilize your resources. But it wasn’t just your grade that you cared about. It helped that the guest lecturer in question was unbelievably sexy, an absolute dreamboat wunderkind who was just barely older than the students he was in charge of.

Park Wonbin, musician to the stars. He’d worked with countless acclaimed producers, written for most of the Billboard Hot 100 artists, and even put out his own flawless body of work that gifted him one Grammy and several nominations. He was an absolute icon at the ripe age of twenty-two and you were dying to sink your claws into him. Soft and athletic, inky black waves, a bashful smile and a voice that the heavens surely blessed him with. His presence was more distracting than conducive for your precious six-figure education, your thighs clenching together every Tuesday and Thursday that he took his place at the professor’s podium.

But you weren't the only one. Nearly everyone in the class was crushing on him, eyes batting as they asked elementary questions and giggles erupting at even his worst attempts at jokes. You felt like a dime a dozen lusting after him, gnawing your lower lip at the way his back muscles flexed when he turned to write something on the board. Get a grip, you’d think to yourself. You’re fighting for a slot on a list of many.

So you amused yourself with your self-labeled delusion, daydreaming about him outside of class and showing up to his office hours to clear up even the smallest of questions about the week’s lectures. He was careful with every word, taking his time to cultivate thorough responses to any and all questions you thought up for him, even ones that stemmed outside of the class's margins.

You still remember the first time you saw him, your jaw nearly dropping to the floor as he entered the lecture hall like any other student. Except he headed straight for the front of the room, placing his bag down at a table near the podium where the staff chaperone was setting up. He picked up the small expo marker that sat on the table, taking off the cap to write wonbin on the white board in messy penmanship before he followed it up with a squiggly smiley face. You knew who he was, his name notorious in the music wing of your school considering what he’d accomplished at such a young age. His looks definitely didn’t hurt, either.

He smiled at you, sitting in the second row waiting for class to start. Most people opted to sit as far back as possible, in the seats that were easier to slip out of the classroom unnoticed. But you sat proudly in the second row, alongside a few other eager students who’d heard good things about the class. His smile felt so personal, the glint of his teeth nearly causing heart palpitations as you smiled back. He didn’t know your name just yet, and suddenly that was your life’s mission; to make this man say your name.

It almost made you think he was giving you special attention with the way he paid close attention to you, his eyes lighting up whenever you came around the coffee shop steps with your notes in tow. He’d even stay past six o’clock if there were too many people before you who needed help, always offering to buy you a cup of coffee or a pastry after having waited for so long. He was so attentive, leaning into your space to look over the notes you took and making sure you were following along correctly. It was hard not to drool over him, especially when you were two of the last people left on the second floor, looking like a couple to the onlooking world.

“I’m serious! I think I’m gonna ask him out.”

Winter rolled her eyes, closing the magazine that she was never really reading in the first place. "So, what? You'll fuck his brains out in his office and then walk into class like nothing happened?"

"Actually, he doesn't have an office." The thought made you blush, sneaking around with Wonbin while your classmates and professors were none the wiser. The taboo was too hot for you to let go of.

Another roll of her eyes, this time meant for you to see. "___, get a grip. You're just slobbering all over him because he's famous. At the end of the semester, you'll go back to eyeing that one saxophonist."

Winter was numb to the novelty surrounding celebrity and the likes of it. She was a not so struggling artist whose parents funded her entire lifestyle, and it had been that way her whole life. She'd had her fair share of moments in Page Six, and the lavish New York socialite life had grown old for her. Her friends were still in the scene, but she had long since retired. Winter's idea of a fun Friday night these days included watching The White Lotus while experimenting with cookie recipes (with hopes of making it into the NYT Christmas Cookie lineup, of course).

You didn’t tell any of your college friends, though. Sure, the whole university knew that he was guest-teaching a music-related course and that he was unbelievably attractive, but you never mentioned to your friends that you felt something between the two of you. As much as you trusted your small circle of friends, you knew that student-teacher relationships were absolutely prohibited, no exceptions. Knowing this did nothing to quell the insatiable thirst you had for him, or the flutter of your heart every time he locked eyes with you. You were willing to throw caution to the wind for him, knowing you officially had it bad for him the moment you started doodling his name in your notebook. It got to the point where you were ready to make your move, ready to invite him to an apartment party one of your friends was throwing.

It was a Thursday evening, another night of attending his office hours despite your ninety-five percent in the class. You were the last student left in the final minutes of his office hours, just the two of you at the moderately sized table of the café. Your hands were mere centimeters from touching where they were laid out on the table, his warmth radiating onto you as he penciled in some helpful reminders in the margins of your notes. Just as you parted your lips to speak, he interjected. “I think it would be best if you stopped coming to office hours.”

That was not what you were expecting him to say. “Oh, um. Alright. Can I ask why?”

“You’ve clearly got an amazing grip on the material, and if anything you’re wasting your time showing up so frequently. It would be better if I had the full two hours for the students who are really struggling.” He refused to look you directly in the eyes as he spoke, opting to stare at your notes instead.

“Oh. Okay.” You gathered up all of your notes and pencils as quickly as you could, shoving them into your backpack without caring if the edges curled. The chair skidded back as you stood from it, not bothering with a goodbye as you saw yourself out. It was humiliating, almost, for him to have given you such a backhanded compliment. You started ruffling through your attendance record in the class and decided that you could afford to miss Tuesday, too embarrassed to be seen by him so soon after.

You really dodged a bullet there, then. Just seconds away from making a move on him when he told you that you should stop showing up to the only semi-private time you had together. It made you feel more delusional than ever before, allowing yourself to think he might actually feel something for you, too. You ignored the tears of frustration teasing the corners of your eyes, running off to the subway station that would deliver you back to your lousy campus housing safely.

What you didn’t see, however, was Wonbin nervously pulling at the ends of his hair. He was always such a bad liar but he knew he needed to put on the performance of a lifetime in order to get you to leave him alone. Considering it was quite the opposite of what he wanted you to do. There was something so intoxicating about you, your voice, your lips, your scent, that had him thoroughly fucked for you. Legally, he didn’t feel bad about it. But the professor he was working under, as well as the university, had already told him that under no circumstances was he to have dalliances with any of the students. So there he was, stuck thinking about you and not being able to do anything about it.

He had everything under control, at first. A few stolen glances during class but nothing to raise suspicion, just long enough for it to seem casual. Then it was finding you on social media, careful not to like any posts or to actually follow you, which made him feel like he was in full creeper mode. That was where he decided to draw the line until you started showing up to his office hours consistently, just as gorgeous as ever as you plopped down next to him in full concentration. He let himself indulge for a while, showering you with just a bit of special treatment until he realized he was crossing into dangerous territory. So he drew the line without a second thought.

You felt like you were back in high school, throwing a fit over being rejected by your longtime crush. All he’d done was politely ask you not to attend office hours anymore, but it felt like he’d told you off. You tried to convince yourself that it was because of your education, that you didn’t appreciate him taking away a resource that was proving itself helpful for you. But the real reason, the one you didn’t want to admit, was that you knew he felt it too. The storybook surge of electricity when his shoulder brushed yours and the way he never offered to get any of the other students coffee and pastries. The way he’d sometimes call you by a nickname when you were together or the way he spoke so highly of you in your exam notes. It was more than a one-sided schoolgirl crush and he was denying it just the same as you, and you couldn’t ignore how much it stung.

Saturday night was your chance to forget all about it. A friend of Winter's had convinced her to open up her ridiculously large penthouse for a laidback party, and she reluctantly agreed. You went to the party having skipped Wonbin’s office hours the evening before, successfully resisting the urge to 'drop by' the coffee shop casually; that would've been worse than just going to office hours. You were ready to let loose, your body a bit tense after the marathon overthinking session you had when Wonbin all but rejected you. All done up in one of your favorite ‘going out’ getups, you set yourself at a three drink maximum before starting the trek there.

You arrived considerably late, the party in full swing by the time you stepped off the elevator and onto the floor. There were so many people, sweaty bodies and intoxicated breaths, so much so that you almost missed him. He was leaning up against one of the kitchen countertops, nursing a drink of his own as he chatted with your friends. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the sight, almost annoyed that you ran in the same circles. But you pushed it aside to go talk to them, knowing they’d have a drink in your hand faster than you could make one. “___! You made it!” Wonbin’s eyes shot up to you making your way over to them, a raspy ‘fuck’ making its way off of his tongue. He suddenly felt trapped, nowhere to run as his student joined his little conversation circle. “Have you met Wonbin?”

“Yeah, we know each other. From around.” You avoided his gaze at all costs. “I need a drink.”

Wonbin quirked an eyebrow at you, “You drink?”

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight to the other foot as he avoided eye contact with you. “I just, you know… Are you old enough for that?”

“Ew, don’t be gross. I’m a uni student, I’m not in daycare. I’m twenty-one, promise.”

You were baiting him, and he knew it. Your anger was directed at him and only him, your bubbly demeanor intact for your friends as you caught each other up on the last month or so of your lives. You had no intention of making this night, or his life, easy. You knocked back the drink your friend Sohee gave you easily, sending Wonbin a sarcastic wink as he stared at you.

Even though your mind was begging you to run, you refused to let him ruin your night. They were your friends, too, and things were only awkward because he made them so. You stood your ground, pretending like he wasn’t even there as the conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, the party music seeming to follow suit. Everything was fine until someone who’d had too many came barreling into the kitchen, spilling their sticky spiked punch all over your legs. You let out a curse as it spilled into your shoes, the sensation far too uncomfortable to ignore.

“Here, go clean up in my bathroom.” Winter handed you the key, sending you off with a gentle shove in the direction of her bedroom.

You didn’t bother locking the door back behind you, knowing you’d be in and out before anyone could miss you. You took the time to freshen yourself up as well, poking around in Winter’s cabinets to see if she had anything exciting or ridiculously expensive. Perfumes, hand creams, serums. Sometimes you forget how rich New Yorkers could be. You turned the light off in the bathroom, turning to leave when you nearly jumped out of your skin at the pair of eyes watching you. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“You didn’t lock the door back.”

Wonbin crossed further into the room, hands in his pockets as he watched you. Even when you were irritated with him, his charm was able to cut through your faux harsh exterior. “I'm sorry, is this allowed? Or does this count as office hours, too? Should I see myself out so that other partygoers can take advantage of your precious time?”

“___, stop. I was just trying to make a decision based on what I thought was best.”

You scoffed at that, trying to ignore just how close he’d gotten to you. “Yeah, right. There’s only like five people who bother showing up anymore, so I don’t know why me showing up is such a big deal? Like you must think awfully highly of yourself if you th—”

He cut you off with a swift kiss, lips finding yours in the pale lighting of the bedroom as you froze. Time seemed to slow; just barely noticeable, but you could feel it. Like one minute felt like two with his hands cupping your cheeks and his hips pressed against yours. You relaxed into his touch, daring to kiss back as the party outside seemed to disappear. All your senses could focus on was him and the way he seemed to consume you.

He walked you backwards, stopping as you stumbled into a wall. The once innocent kiss grew in desperation, your hands everywhere at once as your tongues clashed over and over again. It could’ve easily been a dream with how much you’d both had to drink, the taste of tequila fresh on his lips as you begged for more. Your leg hooked around his waist to draw him closer, a gasp slipping from your lips as you felt how hard he was through his jeans. And then he just stopped.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that.” He was breathless, his words not matching his desire as he slowly backed away from you. “This is exactly what I was trying so hard to avoid. I'm your superior, ___, I'd get fired for this.”

Your mind was blank, not a single thought worthy of being voiced in response to him. You knew it was wrong, knew his position could be terminated, but you didn’t care. Not when his touch was so addictive and your name sounded so sweet on his lips.

“This… this never happened, okay? And it can never happen again.”

He stalked off to rejoin the party, leaving you breathless and unsure of if any of that was real. The only evidence was the faint waft of his cologne that stayed behind, taunting you with the memory of his kiss. His soft, heated, spine-tingling kiss that had your head spinning from the feeling of it. Your lips were puffy from it, fingers reaching up to touch them delicately as if you could scare away the feeling somehow.

Your thoughts were interrupted by him coming back in, locking the door behind him as you fixed your hunched over posture. “Fuck it, fuck this job, I don’t need to be a guest lecturer.” His hands found your hips as he pulled you in once again, kissing you with much different intent behind it. “This is all I've been able to think about this semester.”

You let out a whimper, clawing at his shirt as his teeth pulled at your lower lip. His hands smoothed their way up your body, cupping your breasts through the material of your shirt as you moaned into his mouth. This felt real, no doubt in your mind as you melted like putty in his hands. “Do something.”

His lips migrated to your ear, licking along the shell of it as your head tipped back. “Do you want my fingers?” You nodded sheepishly, cheeks flooding with heat in a sudden wave of shyness. “Then spread your legs for me, baby.” Your body obeyed him without question, legs spreading for him to slip his hand between. He could feel how wet you were through the pants you were wearing, your underwear no match for the arousal he was responsible for. Your fingers fumbled with the button of them, popping it open and dragging the zipper down.

You knew this was a bad idea. Whether you cared or not, having his hand slip past your panties was wrong on so many levels, no matter how good it felt. His reputation and your academic career were on the line, but you couldn’t will yourself to stop him. Not when your body was yearning for more, thighs clenching at the circles he was rubbing against your clit. Not with his lips scaling your neck with kisses that only made your knees weaker than they already were.

Your resolve finally melted when he slipped a finger into your warm heat, the stretch easily out-rivaling anything your own fingers provided. The relief sent you into a spiral of high pitched sighs and moans as he added another, curling them near perfectly against your g-spot.

“Sound so pretty for me, baby. Wanna put your moans in a song.” The thought alone made your stomach twist, visions of riding him in his studio while he held his microphone up to your lips. He could see the shift in your expression at the suggestion, teeth practically destroying your lower lip. “Is that what you want, baby? Wanna be my muse?”

All you could do was nod as the heel of his palm pressed against your clit, your orgasm crashing over you much sooner than you expected. He kissed you through the waves of pleasure, swallowing the pleas of his name and the whimpers from the slight overstimulation of your clit. The cherry on top, though, was when he licked his fingers clean of your arousal without once breaking eye contact. It made you shudder.

Neither one of you knew where to go from that moment on, the heat of it all long gone as you faced reality head on. You zipped your pants back up to break the silence, fluffing your hands through your hair to alleviate any signs of sexual activity before rejoining the party. Not a word to Wonbin before going back like nothing happened, even though the uncomfortable dampness of your panties said otherwise.

unsaved number, 3:25am

↳ it’s Wonbin, i got your number from sohee. we should meet soon

you, 9:08am

↳ yeah? where?

wonbin, 9:09am

↳ 150 east 14th st, @ 11

you, 9:12am

↳ smh making me get my day started on a sunday morning

His apartment was as well kept as him, minimalistic in all its glory but decorated with his achievements wherever he saw fit. Awards, records, framed lyrics, any and everything he felt deeply proud of. You knew that you shouldn’t be there, no matter what occurred the night before. Wonbin was irresistible, and giving into his invitation was practically asking for trouble.

“I got coffee and bagels, if you’re hungry.”

Not just any coffee, though. Coffee from Gregory's. Of course he’d do something like this, you thought. He's trying to prey on my sentimentality to get me in bed. Kinda smart. “Why am I here, Wonbin?”

“Well as of three o’clock this morning, I’m no longer your teacher.”

You nearly choked on nothing as he smiled at you, pulling up the email correspondence from the Dean. “I'm sorry, what?”

“I never needed that teaching job, anyway. I took it because it felt good helping students, but it was getting to be too much, cutting into my own work time. And then when we crossed that line last night… I knew quitting was just the right thing to do.” He walked gingerly toward you, assessing your reaction carefully as he closed the gap between you.

You looked at him incredulously, brows furrowed as if he’d grown a second head. “Y-you’re not my teacher anymore?”

“I'm not your teacher anymore.” He backed you up against the wall of his foyer, the position eerily similar to where you were mere hours before. Heat rose to your face as he gazed at you, his smirk painfully malicious as his hand cupped your jaw. “Lemme take you out on a proper date. Dinner… the Angelika… dessert.”

Your gulp seemed to echo the walls of his apartment, giving up any and all fronts you were trying to put up. You could feel his lips hovering over yours more than you could see them, the soft hum that reverberated as he asked you if you’d like that. “I'm… not sure we’ll make it to dessert.”

“I thought I taught you last night to always leave room for dessert.” He popped open the first button of your blouse, getting a peak at the lavender bra beneath it. You’d dressed up for him, knowing very well where things could lead and not wanting him to see you in your far less alluring Sunday attire. Your breath hitched at his touch, your mind shouting for you to just wait for the date before crossing any more lines. But there he was, just as sexy as ever, sliding the sleeves of your top down your arms with his forehead pressed against yours. Youd didn’t stand a chance.

Your back was hitting his mattress before you could gather the strength to hold off, more of your clothes in a tangled web on his floor than on your actual bodies. Your skin was saccharine, a sweetener he’d been searching for ever since he could identify its name and he couldn’t get enough of it. Marks of his lips were blooming on every inch he could reach, your body signed with his name in a way you never knew you needed. His name rolled off your tongue like it was the only word you knew, the two syllables your new favorite combination in the entire world.

His hands guided your slip skirt down your legs, discarding it carefully with the rest of your clothes as you tugged impatiently at his boxers. He was hard, dangerously so, and it was killing you not to see him in all of his naked glory. “Canisuckyouoff?” You didn’t even think about it, the words flying out of your mouth before you could even try to stop them.

“Seriously?” You were already flipping the two of you over, inching your way down his legs until your face was leveled with his hips.

“Yes, please. I wanna make you feel good.”

Nothing could’ve prepared you properly for his length springing out of his black balenciaga underwear. It would’ve been a shame if he wasn’t as well-endowed as you wanted, but you were mature enough to know that it wasn’t all about size. Wonbin, however, was all about size. He was probably just barely above average in length but he was thick with veins in all the right places that had you close to drooling all over him.

You licked at his tip in a graze, not enough to satisfy him but enough to get him squirming. Small, agonizing licks here and there that had him fisting at his hair in sheer frustration. You pitied him with a bold lick up the underside, but went right back to the teasing that had him close to tears. “___, fuck, I can’t take anymore of this. I thought you said you wanted to make me feel good.”

“I will, baby, you just have to be patient.”

He whined out, not sure how the rest of the afternoon was going to play out if you kept teasing him so mercilessly. He was just about to beg again for you to touch him when your lips wrapped around his tip, his back arching involuntarily and sending him further into your mouth. A guttural groan accompanied the pleasure pumping through his veins as you bobbed her head along his cock, swirling your tongue around him every so often. You had a primal need for more of him, more of the way he tasted and the precum that was oozing out of him. More of the way his groans switched to melodious moans as his climax neared him, more of the way his face was contorted in pleasure as your hands rubbed at his thighs.

His orgasm was building up in the pit of his stomach, the twine of tension pulling further and further until he was sure it was going to snap. Your mouth abandoning his cock in favor of his balls almost did the trick, your hand wrapping around him to jerk as you sucked one at a time. He pulled you off of him reluctantly, wanting so desperately to cum in your mouth but knowing he’d regret passing up the opportunity to fuck you. “I have condoms in the drawer.” His breath was ragged as he pointed the drawer out to you, his hair sticking to his forehead as his body heat was skyrocketing. You handed one to him before shuffling back to the bed, letting him climb over you clumsily with his arms supporting his weight.

He tapped his tip against your clit, running it between your folds as you bucked your hips toward his. “That's not fair.”

He slipped inside of you, barely an inch before pulling back out. He repeated the movement over and over until you were gripping at his hips in an attempt to force more out of him. “Isn’t it, though? You had your fun…” You were so wet that it was making it hard for him to keep up, your soaked walls pulling him in with every shallow thrust. “Have you learned your lesson yet, baby?”

You nodded your head furiously, feeling almost embarrassed by how much you needed him. He refused to give up so easily, though, continuing his perfectly angled thrusts that grazed your g-spot just enough to make your hips buck. "Wonbin, please."

His first full thrust had you clenching around him so tightly that he almost came on the spot, the warmth of you wrapped around him so overwhelming that he had to screw his eyes shut. Your eyes fluttered in satisfaction as he filled you to the brim, the stretch burning deliciously. All you could think about was the next time, and the time after that, and how he could stretch you out whenever he wanted to now. He was yours now.

His lips wrapped around your nipple as he slowly dragged himself in and out of you, savoring how tightly you were squeezing him. It was all the anticipation finally materializing into something he couldn’t get enough of. Your moans, your faces of pleasure, your scent, your taste. He wanted as much of it as you’d let him have, for however long you’d let him have it. "Is this what you were thinking of while I was trying to teach you? Hm? Thought about me stuffing you full of my cock?"

The only noise you could manage was a raspy moan, mind completely numbed by the sensation of his skin pressed against yours. You could feel your lips move, saying something along the lines of wanteditsobadbinnie, but the feeling of his nose dragging up the side of your neck distracted you.

Your bodies seemed to mold together as he picked up speed, drilling into you relentlessly as your nails dug into his hips, asking for more. The slap of your skin against each other was his kryptonite as he wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to hear it again and again until it played in his mind on a loop. He could feel the knot in his stomach warning him to slow down, to relish in the feeling a bit longer, but he didn’t care. Not when your lips were pressed right to his ear begging him not to stop. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

He tried to respond with a ‘yes’, but the absentminded clench of your walls sent him over the edge in a flash. He emptied himself into the condom, trying his hardest to focus all of his efforts on pushing you towards your own orgasm. His fingers found your clit between your sweaty bodies, the rough pad of his thumb orbiting your clit until you joined him in your own throes of euphoria. Your nails clawed down the expanse of his back as your vision blurred, ecstasy replacing every cell in your body as he kissed along your jaw.

The room smelled of sex and the remnants of his body wash, both of you fighting for air as you wrapped yourselves in his sheets. Your fingertips danced across his chest as he watched you wordlessly, face flushed with the evidence of your Sunday afternoon in. “What are you thinking about?” He caught your hand in his, eyes still trained on your face.

“Honestly? Trying to remember if there are any hidden corners in the Angelika where we can have sex.” You looked up at him as he laughed, a smile of your own creeping onto your lips. “What? Too honest?”

“You’re kinda perfect, you know that?”

His lips pressed chastely against your temple. “Yeah, actually, I do.”

#wonbin x reader #wonbin imagines #wonbin smut #riize smut #riize hard hours #wonbin hard hours #riize scenarios #riize x reader #riize imagines #riie x reader smut #park wonbin smut #seouljazzbar

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pandoras-box-27 · 2 months ago

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kiss it when you're done pt 1

max verstappen x reader x charles leclerc

wc: 1445

summary: In 2014, friends max verstappen and charles leclerc watch a race led by y/n l/n, a rising star in the racing world, with whom max and charles become infatuated.

warnings: boners? nothing beyond that yet

a/n: the first bit of my lestappen challengers au! hope it's worth the wait.

“Maxie,” Charles teasingly calls for him. Max stops, rolling his eyes as he watches the boy run to catch up with him. “Can you not demolish me tomorrow?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Max scoffs, sipping water from his blindingly bright red bottle.

“No, look, I’m at peace with the fact that you’re going to win-”

“It’s still the air, it’s not a fact,” Max interrupted, Charles was known to be rather self-destructive and Max wasn’t known for tolerating it.

They’d known each other's quirks since they were just children, battling their disagreements out on the karting track. They’d grown closer as friends but continued playing rivals once they got in the car. They were both prodigies for their age. Max just seemed more confident in his skills, constantly pushing himself to the limits, and it was abundantly clear when he was put against Charles. A smug, charming young boy, who got praise, win or lose. Was Max jealous of Charles’ familial situation and unconditional support? Not that he’d ever say out loud. However, Charles was equally jealous of Max’s genuine skill. It fueled their fighting on and off the track, though it was more like sibing rivalry.

“But, statistically, it’s much more likely,” Charles rambled. Max laughed, practically spitting his water out. Charles scoffed before continuing. “I’m just saying, like… throw me a bone? Let me lead for a moment?”

Max stopped in front of him, turning to face him. “If it matters to you so much, I can just give it to you.”

Charles paused, in shock. “Wow. Okay. Thank you.”

“I’m kidding,” Charles rolled his eyes, which made him smirk. He continued down the path, already knowing Charles was still behind him. “Do you have money on this or something?”

“My mum’s coming.”

——

Max and Charles situated themselves in between the packed bodies in the paddock. They stood unbothered, suddenly thankful they still weren’t famous enough to be recognized, just the occasional local throwing themselves at Charles’ pretty feet. Max just watched, jaw slack, his eyes as he watched each of them have to dust themselves off after being rejected.

“You don’t want any of them? The last one was pretty hot.” Max guffawed, shamelessly ogling the ass of the last girl as she stomped away.

He scolded the other man, playfully, “Too desperate, it makes me, by proxy, seem desperate.”

Max nodded along, as if he understood what he was saying. If it had been Max he would’ve ‘disappeared’ to the nearest broom closet with the first girl. Charles was devishly handsome, and was annoyingly aware of it. He knew he had every girl at his feet. Max was charming as well, though. He just wasn’t as confident in them, not as much as he was in his skill.

Max was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts by the cheers from a nearby garage. His head tilted back up at the screen in front of him. He watches the replay of the moment.

“What an amazing overtake, once again, by the Y/N L/N!”

“Wow, in that car? That’s impressive.” Charles remarked,

“Did you know she already has gotten the team multiple sponsors? Just cause she’s driving it.” Max stated like he had her fact sheet already memorized.

Charles’s eyes flipped back and forth between the screen and Max, his mouth agape. “What? How?”

“She’s probably going pro in like, a month. I watched her at the last race as well. She could win the real thing tomorrow.”

Charles and Max stared at the screen with wide eyes and a lethal dose of curiosity. To say that Y/N is smoking the competition would be an understatement. In a car most wouldn’t bet on, she’s making them look like less than karting champions. As Max and Charles watch, both of them steadily.

Charles glanced down at his crotch after a particularly incredible point. As swiftly as he realized what was happening, he picked up his popcorn from the table next to him and held it over his prevalent bulge.

Barely a moment later, Max looks down, blushing as he sees his own boner, before doing exactly the same thing. They both looked straight ahead at the race, trying to look as casual as possible, neither of them realizing that the other was in exactly the same boat.

—

“The L/N Foundation,” Charles read slowly from the pamphlet sitting on the table, “Inspiring young women in motorsports.”

“Wow, a foundation in her second year Formula racing?” Max asked, his eyes tracked on her as she glided through the crowds like they were the Red Sea.

“It’s her family’s,” Charles explained, flipping through the pages, “Her mother was in motorsports but it wasn’t as acceptable in the 70s. Her father raced in her honor but it wasn’t the same-”

Charles looked up and noticed Max had drifted away to a table further up, closer to the dance floor. He swiftly came up to the empty space next to him.

“Did you know she's from a small town just outside France?” Charles pretended to read the small printed text, “It’s near where I grew up.”

Max looked over at him, curiously smirking, “Yeah?”

“Born and raised, she doesn’t know much English,” Max slowly nodded along, his eyes rising back to her.

“You should read the pamphlet,” Charles teased the blond, poking his side. Max shook his head, not being able to take his eyes off her. The music suddenly changed from something slow and soft to one of the big American ‘club’ songs with lyrics their mothers wouldn’t approve of.

Max’s lips curled into a wide smirk and Charles’ eyes went wide as they watched Y/N's hips sway to the rhythm of the song playing in the background. Her dress was tight around her chest, accentuating her perfect tits, and flowed out over a layer of petticoat that moved dramatically with every swish of her hips. She was the perfect mix of alluring and elegant, just as she had been on the track, which left both of their heads spinning.

“I’d let her fuck me with that trophy of hers,” Max whispered into Charles’ ear, only making him blush harder as his imagination went wild.

“Oh my god,” Charles muttered softly under his breath. He couldn’t believe it, he’d never seen anyone so perfect. He watched her whisper-shout something to her friends before slowly exiting the dance floor.

“Oy,” Max slapped Charles’ arm, before running over to the couch she was heading towards. Charles followed suit (once he realized what was happening)

Just as she reached the sofa area, they were on her tail. She turned around in shock. Max raced to start and, easily slipping into the little French he knew, spoke first.

“Bonjour, madame, je m'appelle-”

“I’m Charles Leclerc, it’s nice to meet you,” Charles interrupted, smiling widely and eagerly.

“Nice to meet you,” Y/N bit back a smile, shaking Charles’ hand, a firm handshake as his hand lingered just a second too long. She pulled back after a moment, reaching for Max’s as she started to speak again, “Uhm, enchante. I, uh-”

“Don’t speak French,” Max sighed, mentally cursing himself for his stupidity. Charles wasn’t necessarily lying, Y/N was born and raised from a small town just outside France, and it was near Monaco. It was just in Italy. His mistake was immediately apparent. The thick accent laid on her tongue and rang like choir bells in their ears.

“Well, yes, not well. But, I was going to say, ‘I already knew who you two are.’” Y/N shrugged, laughing a little to herself. She plopped herself down on the couch behind her, staring up at the two men. “You’re Formula’s next big thing, my father doesn't shut up about you.

You’re racing in Formula 3 next year, yes?” Charles swears he’s never seen Max’s head move faster.

“You’re not signing to -”

“Yeah. How did you -- ?”

“Me too.” Y/N says, leaving silence among the group.

“What?” Charles exclaimed, excitedly.

“I just accepted the offer, and they mentioned you,” she smiled brightly, they couldn’t tell if she was more happy for Charles or herself. Her head whipped around at the sound of someone calling her name. She sat up off the sofa. “Nice to meet you two,” She stared at Max, and with her best (terrible) French accent, “Au revoir.”

Charles held back a laugh as he watched her leave. Max punched him in the gut, not hard, more playfully, but it still hurt. Charles bent over, holding his stomach simultaneously for the large belly laugh he was letting out and the pain.

“I can’t believe you believed me,”

“You little shit.”

taglist

@ananyasr1bughead @akkklys @meglouise00

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader smut #max verstappen #charles leclerc #challengers au #f1

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muzansfangs · 4 months ago

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Hiii! I hope ur still accepting requests. Recently, an idea has stuck in my head. What about taking bath with Aizen and his s/o? I hope you will accept it!

Cleanse my soul.

Starring: Aizen Sosuke x f!reader; mention to Shinji Hirako, Kisuke Urahara, Kensei Muguruma, Rojuro Otoribashi, Lisa Yadomaru, Hiyori Sarugaki;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, vaginal fingering, cock-warming, vaginal sex, creampie, fear play, smoking, clit-edging, jealousy, nudity, Lieutenant Aizen, morally grey reader, mention to attempted murder, violence, gore, blood, talks about the future, betrayal, trust issues, turn back the pendolum arc, established relationship;

Plot: He was back, knocking on your door in the dead of the night. His Lieutenant badge had been damaged, the gleam in his chestnut eyes telling you he had succeeded in accomplishing his plan. He always seeked your company, after long days of work and unspeakable crimes committed to chase his dream of becoming a God. You were the only thing he would have never given up to on his climb to the Heaven.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Reading by the window to distract yourself, you had watched in agitation the way your Captain had left the barracks to investigate on the sudden disappearence of Kensei Muguruma and and some members of his squad. Your stomach churned, apprehension leaving space to the mournful feeling of being forced to accept a brutal reality no one else in your Division was prepared for: at the end of the night, you were either going to say goodbye to Hirako Shinji, your Captain, or to Sosuke Aizen, his Lieutenant, your boyfriend.

No one else knew what was really happening, besides you, Kaname Tosen and Gin Ichimaru, the young prodigy Sosuke seemed to be so enthusiastic about. The secrets you harbored behind your soft smile, when you conversed with your friends, as if you had not just witnessed to some poor inhabitants of the Rukongai vanishing before you wary eyes, when you lied for him, when you cradled his face in your hands and reassured him everything was going to be okay, when he silently pleaded you to cleanse his soul by fucking you up against a wall and telling you the world was soon going to acclaim you their queen, were slowly consuming you up from the inside like acid sizzling the delicate walls of your stomach.

Despite that, you had chosen him above anything and anyone else. You were the priest absolving him from the sins he kept on staining his soul with for the sake of his ideals. The real question was: who cleansed your soul?

You often queried whether his efforts to keep your hands clean were actually successful. You were not innocent. You were guilty as well. You had just betrayed the Soul Society and your friends. Your idle tongue was as sharp as Sosuke’s blade. You wondered how many of your friends had already fallen by your boyfriend’s hand. A massacre was taking place outside and there you were, safe in your dorm and hoping Kisuke Urahara was not going to disrupt your lover’s plans.

Someone knocking on your door made you flinch, back straightening as a ramrod as you settled your book down on the ebony desk, careful not to make a sound. What if Sosuke had failed? Maybe he had sold you off too, after being arrested. The mere thought of your beloved boyfriend throwing you to the wolves made chills run down your spine and your mouth turn to chalk. Would Sosuke really do such a thing to you? You wondered, once again, if he loved you as much as you did.

You mentally rebuked yourself for assuming the worst. Sosuke loved you. Why were you doubting his feelings for you? Probably, you were just projecting onto your relationship the ominous feelings, swallowing you in a whirlwind of fear and anxiety, that you experienced when you watched him work cold-heartedly, sacrificing souls, to the chilling phenomen known as Hollowfication.

Your hand reached for your zanpakuto, your bare feet sliding onto the wooden floor without making a sound, just like he had taught you throughout the years you had spent together. You took a sharp intake of breath, tightening your grip on the hilt of your katana until your knuckles turned white. The visitor was masterly suppressing their reiatsu, making it impossible to detect their presence and identify who they were. You knew what you had to do, in case Sosuke’s failed and the guards went after you. Killing comrades, however, was entirely different from massacring Hollows. You were a shinigami, not an assassin. If the person knocking on your door was not your boyfriend, your blade was going to drip viscous, crimson blood of a shinigami.

Hiding your katana behind your back, you slided the door open, ready to become a full-fledged traitress. The lean frame occupying the threshold made you discard the blade onto the floor instinctively, the sound of the weapon clattering against the parquet echoing in the silent night, as your hands clutched the fabric of Sosuke’s shihakushō and pulled him inside. He had come back safe and sound.

It only meant one thing: the Fifth Division had lost its Captain.

You relished the bittersweet taste of happiness achieved through betrayal, when you smashed your lips onto his, hand scrambling to your side to slide the door shut. Yet, you had learnt to be selfish, you had grown familiar with the sensation of enjoying moments of peace and unbridled excitement, when other people were in pain. Sosuke held you close to his chest, his hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed you back with equal fervor. His hair were disheveled, the badge indicating his status of Lieutenant was gone, the black fabric of his uniform torn in some parts, dirt dusted his clothes and visage.

“Are you hurt?” you dared murmuring against his lips, ignoring the way he was already trying to disrobe you.

“Unscathed. — he shortly informed you — But I could use a bath” he added, mouth voraciously assaulting the crook of your neck, whilst you were attempting to make a small conversation to know details about his victory.

However, right now, when you were in his arms and his teeth were nipping at your tender flesh, Sosuke did not seem to give a iota about further explanations. He had won. He had promised to come back to you and there he was, pushing you towards the bathroom, heedless of the corners biting onto your sides as he forced you to stumble backwards to reach the destination he had chosen for you two to spend the rest of the night at.

You winced pathetically against his lips, the chilly, wintry air blowing through the small, wide-open window of your bathroom leaving goosebumps on your now naked shoulderblades. The rustle of your clothes landing onto the floorboard accompanied you to the edge of the bath, as he finally let go of you and began to undress himself before your glossy, dreamy eyes.

No matter how many times you had traced the outlines of his abs with your lips, or fingertips, every single time his body was bared for you to contemplate you lost any cognitive capacity of thinking straight. Sosuke had always got you in a chokehold from the day you first met at the Academy.

He was that kind of man who outfoxed everyone around him, the sweet-natured guy with glasses no one would have ever accused of committing bloodcurdling felonies. Sosuke Aizen was far from being an ordinary man, some stranger easy to forget about. He had captivated you effortlessly in the palms of his hands, like a clueless butterfly delicately landing on the fruity, multicolored petals of a carnivorous plant only to be devoured to the bone. You had become one with him.

You realized you had been fantasizing about him again only when his hand reached for you chin, forcing you to crane up your neck and meet his gaze. His glasses were gone, his beautiful chestnut brown eyes boring into yours in anticipation as he brushed his thumb over your cheek “Focus on me” he commanded, his words no longer sugar-coated, the typical honeyed tone slipping out of his mouth when he talked to you absent.

His ravenous side strived to take over, evidently. He desired you like a helpless shipwrecked person hoped to find water in a deserted island, adrift amidst the salty water of the Ocean.

Seldomly you had recognized the diabolic gleam in his eyes outside the safe walls of your dorms. His lust, his thirst for power, his greed and ambitions were never showcased in his ever so kind eyes, the same pretty eyes bewitching you right now. Sosuke was the incarnation of the infamous wolf in sheep’s clothing. He had people bamboozled, unable to see him as nothing less than a noble, proficient and polite man minding his business and even reprimanding his Captain for the sake of his Division.

A man with leardship, but uncapable of doing any harm.

Perhaps, it was because you knew him so intimately that his demons had grown familiar with yours that you often asked yourself if you were a mere pawn in his hands, a pretty diamond pin to wear in order to fool people about his real intentions. You hesitated, a small frown creasing your forehead as you watched Sosuke impassibly stare at you in confusion.

“Tell me something, Sosuke. — you started, miraculously modulating your voice in a firm but soft tone — Are you going to abandon me, once the world will be in your hands?”.

His eyes clouded over for a moment, your stomach churning in apprehension. What if you had ruined it all? You impudent mouth, your lips quivering in fright, your heart pumping fast in your chest had revealed you were scared of losing him, or to be fair, of him.

Sosuke’s jaw clenched, his other hand gripping your hip to push you back towards the cool edge of the tub, the still warm water sparkling under the moonlight dimly enlightening the room “When the world will be nothing but a possession of mine, I will give it to you” he stated, making your stomach somersault.

Regrets for having even asked him such a silly question gnawed at your stomach, guilty conscience weighing on your shoulders like a heavy read. You blinked a few times in a row, watching as your boyfriend sidestepped you to climb into the tub. The sound of the water splashing onto the floor, overflowing from the edge, filled the air. Sosuke leaned his back against the bath, arms comfortably positioned on each side of it, penetrative gaze commanding you to join him.

Resisting was impossible. Entering the water, you snuggled into his chest, your back adhering to his firm abs as your neck reclined. Your hair tickled his chin, his jawline, his eyes closing to finally relax. He would have never admitted it, but you could tell he was exhausted. Even Kings needed to slack off, to ignore their duties and enjoy the small moments of bliss their life granted them.

“I need you to believe in me” he spoke out then, velvet voice playing the chords of your heart, as you swallowed thickly.

“I believe in you”.

“Then don’t doubt my love for you. Never” he asked of you tiredly, his arms now leisurely encircling your waist to bring your body closer to his, skin to skin, his mouth gliding down the curve of your neck.

You hummed, thighs parting, when his hand slipped further down your body, disappearing underneath the translucent water “I’m sorry. But this is all so scary, Sosuke. I was afraid—”.

“Afraid of what? That you mattered less than glory and honorifics?”.

You squeezed your eyes shut, his deft fingers parting your dewy folds as if they were a syrupy fig for him to feast on, the scene reminding you of a depraved bucolic lyric about a Greek, Attic shepherd corrupting a modest nymph by a river. A blasphemy you were condoning sheepishly.

The moans you let out were not the answers he was trying to coax you to pronounce “Answer me” he pressed.

“N-No!” you stammered, hips rocking as he plunged a finger into your tight hole, causing him to pull it out and gently pinching on your clit. While the action obviously did not hurt you, it sent waves of electricity running through your body. You jolted onto your seat, toes curling as you lolled your head back onto his shoulder.

Sosuke’s teeth nibbled onto your earlobe, before he hushed you “Hush, love. Can you just recall what I have taught you? Provide me a good argumentation and I won’t prolong this torture further” he whispered, his brown eyes shifting to a small cabinet at his right, making his blood boil in his veins.

Why did you still keep such an object in your house?

Were you maybe going behind his back? Were you actually siding with that frowsy scientist he had taken care of nearly an hour ago? Kisuke Urahara would have not been a problem anymore, whatever was the reason behind your injudicious decision of discarding that water-pipe in such a place for his eyes to see. A small test of your loyalty would have sufficed to prove how deeply you cared for him, to understand whether your devotion was pure and solely on him, or not.

Hazy, you clasped your hand over your mouth to muffle out another whimper threatening to erupt from your throat. Rationality left your body, when he touched you. How were you supposed to force your brain to properly function, when Sosuke was flicking your throbbing clitoris torturously between his thumb and index? Despite that, you knew damn well the only solution to your problem was doing exactly what he had said.

Tears prickling in your expressive eyes, you pushed your knees together, only for Sosuke to chide you and run his fingers through your drenched hair. His nails scraped your scalp ever so lightly, but it was enough to stop your futile struggle.

“You have such a pretty mouth, darling. Let me hear your voice, hm?” he mumbled, one of his arms sliding around your abdomen and pulling you flush against him while the other pinched your clitoris again.

You squealed out in overstimulation, your body too sensitive to endure more of this edging. It was his usual wicked game of power and self-control. Sosuke was in command, yet he made sure you always had your chance to make his ministrations cease. All you had to do was playing your part, like a pretty ballerina moving under his instructions. A false step and you sprained your ankle.

You huffed, cheeks heating up in embarrassment and shame for your total lack of backbone, when it came done to him “A Goddess shall never be afraid” you blurted out, sinking further into the water as a satisfied hum resonated from behind you.

True to his words, he stopped playing with your pearl, fingers merely delving into your pussy instead. Scissoring them gently into your warm cavern, Sosuke pressed his lips against your nape, eyes darkening in lust and a something shady you had failed to see due to your position.

“That’s right. You’re the future wife of a God. No matter how powerful and cruel a divinity is… — he started, one of his hand reaching out to grasp that water-pipe irking him to no end — A man is nothing without his woman” he finished, inspecting the smoking device between his fingers.

His words had left you breathless, your inner walls squeezing his fingers as you writhed in his arms. Your moans echoed in your small dorm, probably the shinigamis in the backyard had heard you too, but you did not care, nor did him. They knew better than coming after the Lieutenant’s girlfriend.

The respect he had gained through the years surpassed even the one your comrades had for the late Shinji Hirako.

Your eyelids had shut, relishing into the way he fingered you so deliciously, and your mouth was hanging open to release those shamelessly high-pitched cries of pleasure he loved so much. The hard wood of the pipe resting against your bottom lip, though, made your eyes snap open again.

Dread washed over you, as Sosuke’s fingers tangled your hair, yanking them back harshly “You still keep his gifts. Smoke for me then. Smoke to celebrate his incoming downfall, darling” he crooned, your blood running cold in your veins as he gripped your wrist and directed your hand up to make you grab the object yourself.

Yout shaky hands did wrap around it, teary eyes meeting his cold ones “S-Sosuke, I am sorry! I just forgot to throw it away, I promise” you apologized profusely, watching how he softly smiled at you and prompted you to raise your hips enough for him to impale you onto his cock.

“I know you did. — he cooed, the bulbous head of his shaft stretching your aching hole, as you languidly looked at him and whimpered as he buried himself deep into your welcoming core — I suggest you to smoke in his honor one last time, darling. Cry for his departure” he whispered, mouth leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your neck.

And you mourned Kisuke’s fate. Oh, you did it so convincingly, for after cock-warming your beloved boyfriend for a while he then began to thrust into you in hard, punishing thrusts making you sob tears of pleasure. You hiccuped, blurry vision, smoke filling your lungs, as you exaled through your nostrils.

Body sore, heat overflowing with Sosuke’s hot seed, you collapsed against chest. His arms held you close to him, as he watched the device sink into the now murky water, forgotten forever like the destiny of all those Captains and Lieutenants who had been unlucky to cross his path.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Uhm, I feel too ashamed to say anything about this. If it is not toxic, it’s not Sosuke to me. Ah, my first red flag crush… Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this as much as I adored writing it!

Likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

Until next,

X O X O

TAGS: @onyxino @velaenaa @villainsrtasty @stygianoir @noirfan12 @bucciaratizippers @linkwho1 @0wh1te0 @bakugosgirl01 @persuasivus because I think you might enjoy it💫

#aizen sosuke x reader #azien sosuke smut #aizen smut #aizen x reader #sosuke aizen x reader #bleach smut #bleach x reader #aizen sosuke smut #lieutenant aizen

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neyafromfrance95 · 8 months ago

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everyone always says they want complex female characters but then they altogether dismiss any complexity and nuance of female characters.

yes, tashi loved tennis the most but why? why was she unable to show vulnerability and the human underneath the tennis player/coach?

did you all forget tashi saying that her family didn't have money when she was young? she single handedly got her family out of poverty through tennis. her whole family depended on her as a tennis prodigy. it was her only skill, only passion, only source of security and pride, it was her entire identity.

remember how art basically lied to tashi that patrick was hooking up with other girls and didn't love her after tashi told him that she thought she could take her relationship with patrick to the next level?

this lie triggered tashi's insecurity/fears that she was only enough as a tennis player/coach. this is why she wanted patrick to depend on her as on a tennis coach. she thought that was the only reason he (or anybody) would need and value her.

art understood that tashi needed tennis and was reducing her own value to her job and basically used this by asking tashi to coach him. he became smn who'd depend on tashi the tennis coach. he wanted her and would do anything to get her, including lying to her and exploiting her fears. he even used her trauma as a reason why she should have chosen him instead of patrick. also, it's interesting choice that art gave tashi his grandma's ring. it's like he used his dead grandma tactic on her almost the same way he did on patrick. except for patrick *knew* art was low-key a snake. then when art became dead set on winning after learning that tashi slept with patrick and was probably gonna keep her word about leaving him if he lost? tbh, it felt like art was trying to encage tashi throughout the entire movie.

tennis was tashi's everything, the love of her life, but she loved art and patrick too. however, i feel like she needed art bc he made her feel like she was alright, she was still needed as a tennis expert. patrick, on the other hand, i think she genuinely loved him in a romantic way and was afraid of losing him. the fact that she got injured after their fight only shows how distressed she was about him leaving her and how far from indifferent she was about him.

#challengers #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson #challengers movie #luca guadagnino #zendaya #josh o'connor #mike faist

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azalawa-scroggs · 4 months ago

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About Eddie Fender and why he was a dick to Miles

I first started this post in response to something, but it got so long I decided against inflicting it on OP. This is very long and very meandering and the form is kinda weird, as a warning. It's also kinda spoilery for Ace Attorney Investigations 2.

When we first start playing AAI2 and are introduced to "Ace Attorney Eddie Fender," it's true he doesn't come across as very likeable. The first thing he says to Miles is basically "Oh, look! Here comes Manfred von Karma," and the game happens three years after the truth about DL-6 came out. That's incredibly low, very petty, cruel even. He does start off as a dick to Miles, unfair on him until he gradually realises he isn't as bad as he thought, and as he starts warming up to Miles we start warming up to him.

But also... I kind of get it.

Like... Imagine you're 19 years old. Your boss just died in a sudden and shocking murder. You inherit the law firm even though you haven't even passed the bar yet. You're grieving as you keep working hard to become an attorney, now without the guidance you used to have. Maybe you even blame yourself a little - after all, you worked on that case too, you were likely there for the trial, you left both Edgeworths to take that elevator by themselves. Had things played out differently you would have been there, too.

Did you think of your boss's son, in the middle of this whirlwind? Probably a little, but you're a 19 year-old law student. You're nowhere near a suitable place in your life to even think about fostering a kid. Besides, Gregory Edgeworth was your boss. Someone you greatly admired and whose death you will never stop mourning, but still just your boss.

(It's unclear how well Eddie knew Miles. Enough for Miles to recognise him instantly, but certainly not as close as Miles and Phoenix were.)

You take it on yourself to continue the work he left behind, to help the clients Gregory can no longer help. For ten years you try your best to uphold the reputation and the values of his firm and name, and every day you witness a little more how corrupt the system really is.

Then, one day, you start hearing about this young new prosecuting upstart. Passed the bar at 20 and already has the legal world in his pocket. Rumours of forged evidence, backstreet deals, manipulated witnesses. Not only is that just like the whole lot of them, the tactics you became so familiar with over the years - no, it sounds painfully, specifically familiar to that one long, drawn-out case, the last one you worked with Gregory. It turns out the young prodigy is the student and protégé of Mr. Perfection himself, the man who never lost a case in thirty-five years, even though he should have lost against you ten years ago if the world was even a little fair. You would hate the boy for that alone, but on top of that he's also the son of the mentor you lost, the son of the man you both used to admire so very much.

And that hurts. That none of Gregory's legacy lived on in his son. That this sweet, kind boy, who Gregory always used to worry about not making any friends, became a parody of all they used to despise.

Perhaps you even get to see him. You catch a glance of him in the courthouse corridor as he passes you by without so much as a nod to acknowledge you, or you stumble upon a picture in the same paper that struck Phoenix Wright so deeply. You see that damn suit. That damn smirk. That damn waggly finger. His features may have something of Gregory but everything in him screams von Karma. He's spent a decade trying to shape himself into him, and it shows.

Prosecutors are a privileged bunch, and the Edgeworth kid grew up into a downright brat. Entitled. Rude. Arrogant. Obsessed with his fucking perfect record. You hear he goes around cutting the salaries of detectives that make a tenth of what he does and insulting the opposing counsel in court. He became the worst of them all, taught by the worst of them all, he is everything Gregory fought against and everything you hate.

Why would you want to associate with that? Why would you ever think he is not perfectly fine where he is, with his cushy office and his cushy sports car and his doubtlessly cushy pay?

A couple years later you hear he's been arrested for murder. Maybe you follow the trial, maybe you only see the headlines after everything, after DL-6 is finally solved. Honestly, that's when you start having a reason to reach out. When, had you been less embittered and jaded by the thanklessness of your job, you might have wondered what it was like for him to grow up in the shadow of his father's murderer. You might have been stricken with compassion and horror at the thought of fifteen years spent in crushing guilt, believing he killed the father he used to love so much. You might have empathised, despite your contempt for von Karma, with how his ward might feel to be so cruelly betrayed, thrice over, by the man who raised him since he was nine, who taught him everything before throwing him away like a piece of used junk.

But you still think of how he was like a son to von Karma, of how he got to spend fifteen years in wealth, following a shiny, easy, corrupt new path while you grieved and desperately tried to keep the pieces of your shared dream together. You think of how uneasy Gregory seemed with the idea of von Karma as a teacher, you think of how eager Miles seemed to follow in his footsteps and how much Gregory would have hated it. You think of the many defendants this boy callously condemned with barely a thought, just like his mentor. Of how he may not have his father's blood on his hands, but with the way he acts you'd think he had his murderer's in his veins. And you really, really don't want to deal with any of that.

You think, somewhat unfairly, that maybe Miles ought to have seen it coming. It's not like it's much of a secret that Manfred von Karma is a piece of shit, and good riddance to him.

Three years later, you actually have to interact with him again. It's been 18 years since you last saw him in his father's shadow, looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky, back when everything was so simple for the three of you. It's been 3 years since the truth about his oh-so-esteemed mentor was uncovered. He still wears the cravat. His brow is still furrowed, his eyes are still piercing.

But slowly, begrudgingly, you talk to him. You start realising he actually has some honour to him. That he's not really the Demon Prosecutor the papers made him out to be, that maybe you misjudged him a little bit, in you grief-stricken, angry bitterness. That maybe he can be trusted, after all, with his father's legacy.

Why would you think he ever needed saving?

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theemporium · 1 year ago

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🧸 Lando's baby being a music lover just like their mum!!! (i love music everything, playing, singing, making GIMME EVERYTHING) also ilysm cece, you're such an angel

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

It became clear at a young age that little Margot Norris adored music.

It never mattered the song or the artist or the genre of music, any form of it seemed to calm her down in a way that seemed like a miracle when it came to babies. Lando had made countless jokes that it was because of all the different genres you would listen to when you were pregnant. He joked that she had spent most of her time inside you being surrounded by music that only followed her into her own life.

He joked but it wasn’t really a joke.

Margot Norris was a carbon copy of you with her love for music. She seemed to take after her mother in the way she craved it, the way she desired it, the way she gravitated towards it. And it made Lando’s heart clench so tight in his chest, he thought it was going to explode.

“Daddy likes music too,” he spoke to the baby in his lap as he set up the control board in front of him. “Daddy used to be a DJ, you know? People loved it, honey. They went crazy for my music.”

Margot babbled like she understood what he said.

Lando grinned widely. “Yeah, exactly. You get it, smarty pants. And look, Daddy still has all his old equipment he can teach you.”

Whilst he knew Margot was still far too young to show any understanding in the words or instructions he was giving her as a six month old, it still warmed his heart to watch her reach for the same buttons he just pressed like it was a game. It made him feel like her music obsession was a little bit of him too.

“What are you doing?”

It almost made you laugh the way both of their heads snapped up at the sound of your voice.

“I’m making my girl a DJ prodigy,” Lando said proudly as he glanced down at the baby in his lap, her head tilting back to look at him. “Isn’t that right, honey? M’gonna make you the next Steve Aoki.”

You snorted. “What if she wants to do classical music?”

“I bet that can be DJ-ed too,” Lando said with a shrug of his shoulders before he leaned down to press chaste kisses on Margot’s chubby cheeks. “You are gonna be the best DJ this world has ever seen.”

“So you’ve already given up on making her a racer?” You teased as you wandered deeper into the room, taking a seat by Lando beside all of his DJ equipment surrounding him on the floor.

“Of course not,” Lando scoffed. “She just needs a hobby until she’s old enough to go in a kart.”

You shook your head, though you were smiling. “A DJ prodigy and a racing prodigy,” you mused as you let out a low whistle. “We’ve made a daughter with many talents.”

Lando puffed his chest. “She gets it from me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, baby.”

“I thought a good wife was meant to further her husband’s delusion.”

“Not this time, babe.”

#cece's slumblurb party #lando norris #formula one #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n

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failing-to-write-again · 2 years ago

Note

The sakamaki finds their self staring at their S/O baby/kids photos or maybe vice Vera, pick you’re favourite!

BABY PICTURES!!!

I'm picking both because I'm an indecisive lil'bitch, so this is part 1 with the Sakamakis seeing you as children. This took way longer than expected but I got bad writers block with Kanato, Laito, and Ayato in particular.

Part 2

TW: Some mildly degrading language, it comes with the DL terrotory, Laito calls reader a whore once.

Shu Sakamaki

Perhaps if you were less tired you would have heard the door creak open or felt the hallway's light hitting your eyes as he entered your room. While not requiring heat, it was a luxury Shu enjoyed indulging in it and you tended to give the best reactions to his cold fingers waking you.

This time though you looked exhausted, a long exam season having drained you more than he would have thought. Besides, it would be funniest if you had the energy to react well. So for now he was intent on joining you in dreamland. That was until his eyes strayed to your vanity where a book lay half open. A clearer look showed a small child grinning up at him, and the note "Sweet Pea's first contest" was scrawled on a slip of paper attached to the bottom left corner.

You were sat beside an older girl both in tutus your hair adorned with with a delicate tiara complimenting your light pink, glittery costume. It looked like you were matching the older girl who was dressed in the more traditional sugar plum fairy outfit. Flicking through the book it looked like you must still be a ballerina, he especially loved your first point shoe photo, you were beaming at yourself in a mirror while standing holding the bar.

The last photo was dated as being almost a year ago, you were stunning. On stage front and center leg held high being supported by your partner as you stared dainty upwards to the side, ironically you were also a sugar plum fairy. Except there was something much more ethereal compared to the first picture he saw, you must have been some prodigy to look this way. The spotlight had all of you glowing, the layers of tulle and jewels only accentuating your glow rather than causing it.

You also had a photo with a young girl after the show, a change in generations perhaps? But, you didn't look as happy. There was the arm of a man in the frame slightly, wearing some robe similar to Yui's dad. Flicking between the first and last photo there was a clear difference between your smile reaching your eyes. You looked so hollow compared to your younger self.

The noise of you stirring slightly and turning over is what brings him back to reality, looking at you now it would be a lie to say he ever saw you smile the way you do in these photos, a beaming toothy grin in an expression he could only call personified sunshine. Now, none of that was visible. What little joy was left in that photo of you and the child had been eradicated. You were paler, and more gaunt due to constant blood draining. You had bags heavy under your eyes and knots in your hair. Punctures littered your neck, painful angry marks unhealed and just left there to further your pain.

He never asked about your hobbies or life before the manor, he knew very little about your past what he had seen while at your least intruding to try minimize the harm his brother, no he was causing. He didn't like this feeling, a rolling unsettling feeling in his stomach. He couldn't look at you as he slunk away.

Reiji Sakamaki

"Seriously, must you be so rude to delay all of our journey home."

Pushing open the doors to the school library he met the sight of your head against a book out cold. Walking closer it was clear you had been studying for some time, a mixture of notes and books laid around you. Tutting, Reiji brushed some pencil shavings away noticing the golden chain wrapped around your fingers a small heart nestled in your palm.

Turning it over it fell open to reveal two halves, one empty the other revealing a young girl in the lap of two people, their heads were out of the frame. Picking up the locket to more closely examine it, the girl was holding a teddy bear with a big red bow matching the red dress she was in.

"They took that picture before they sent me off to the church"

"What?"

Turning his head back to face her, she had sat up and wiped her eyes. Resting her head in her hand and looking at his hand with some far away look in her eyes.

"The church that supplies your sacrifices, cults are always going to exist but yours is less popular than you know. So they trick people or offer to buy their children flat out. Some of the girls had seen their parents trying to get them back, tricked into believing the church was a boarding school. I'm not sure what mine believed, I never saw them again. I don't have any other pictures of them."

"You don't believe in the Church? Yui seems rather devoted still, I know how you humans work and-"

"Yui was raised in the Church by a leading priest who at least pretended to love her, I was shipped off and locked in a building raised to be killed. If you want to view the world as one dimensional, I'd like to remind you that it goes both ways. So I know you vampires are so incapable of managing yourselves you lose all decorum when blood is involved and have seemingly failed to learn how to wipe your mouth." She was sneering, evidently it was harder to hold her tongue freshly woken up. All he could focus on was the swirling pain in your eyes, it was the closest he'd ever seen her get to tears, it took him aback.

The silence seemed to only further solidify your upset, shaking your head and grabbing the locket and your bag before walking out of the library. Reiji hung back for a moment, almost reflective before turning back to the table. The notes were insightful, she had interacted with the material rather than the girls in the school that begged him for help. He had to wonder if perhaps he was using a less than adequate sample population...

Walking out to return to the limo he had to begin considering appropriate response to this outburst.

Ayato Sakamaki

"Yo, you better hurry up Ore-sama waits for no-one!"

"I'm showering, you're the one that came into my room." Scowling the red head dropped down onto your bed only to feel something poking him. Lifting the mattress revealed a flat tin box you had hidden suspiciously. Nosey as he is, he immediately opened the box to be faced with a collection of different photos. Some were of you in some school uniform with some friends, you look around 13 in some of them. Other, newer, photos have you in some brick building with those other girls, as well as some of the previous brides, some wore crosses similar to Yui's but you weren't. You were sat on a window ledge a small cupcake in your lap with those other brides living here, your eyes had that same hollow look you get when he insults you. The worse one though was a picture of you as a toddler, sat on a woman's lap with a tiny paper hat on your head. You were grinning in front of a cake lit up with 3 candles.

How dare you. Being so happy and hiding these expressions from him but showing them to other people. As this is crossing his mind he hears the door creaking open as you enter still drying your hair before freezing.

"How did you get that." You were trembling, eyes fixed on the box still in his lap.

"How dare you hide things for Ore-sama! You are mine nobody else's you have to give me everything. And this," He held up the box, shaking it to punctuate his words. "This is proof you are hiding things from yours truly!"

Tossing the box into the fire in a fit of rage, watching you cry as you try to save some of the photos. He eventually pulled you away, drinking you near faint and watching as you stumble trying to run away when he let you go. Watching as the flames slowly cause the photos to curl in on your small round face while you wait to blow out your candles. As well as listening as you sobbed just outside the door.

Kanato Sakamaki

Kanato had demanded to see what was in your suitcase the moment you had passed the doors into this hellhole. Thankfully Reiji had insisted that it was improper and due to his short attention span the purple haired menace had mostly forgotten. As weeks passed it had completely slipped your mind as you were far too preoccupied trying not to die. While walking through the halls of the manor back to your room after school your mind drifted to Kanato's bizarre behavior.

Kanato, for some reason, followed you around more than the other girls here, you were unsure how to feel about him all in all. He had moments where he was incredibly sweet and nice only to change in an instance with no predictability into screaming, violent rages. He was bad news, with no motivation or willingness to try change or improve you had to live in constant tension over what mood he'd be in. No better example came to mind that what you faced upon opening your door.

Kanato sat at the foot of your bed, your suitcase open and a scattered collection of pictures of you around them. Your heart was in your throat, unable to see his face to know how to act or run. Your hands were clammy, those photos were important to you and while you wouldn't mind showing people Kanato was ultimately a risk, he could rip them up or hurt you for having them.

"Hey, you were a cute child strawberry." Kanato was half facing you now, focusing on the picture in his hand you in a princess bouncy castle at your cousin's 5th birthday. You loved that one, you had dressed up as Rapunzel, you had a lilac tea dress on and your mother had bought fake hair to braid in with yours to extend its length. Gently stepping closer you explained this to Kanato, and about her being your favorite as a child.

"You can sit closer, I want you to tell me more." He didn't sound angry, rare for when he made demands. and you want it to stay that way. Sitting closer he also shifts to have his right knee brushing your leg as he sat crossed legged. He had his arm holding himself up behind you. Sitting in that pose, if it weren't for the clothes, he looks like a normal teenager.

He kept you there for over an hour it felt good to get to talk about your life before being a sacrifice. It was the longest you had ever seen him lucid. You eventually nod off, vaguely comprehending fingers slowly running through your hair and a blanket being draped around you.

Laito Sakamaki

Laito strikes a balance between crazy and insane that while still very much not sane, he's better at hiding it. For the past few months while here you've seen him slowly tailor his behavior to somewhat better suit you. While still a complete perv, once he realized his attempts at flirting didn't work he changed tactics, a few times, until there was this uneasy understanding between you both. You weren't friends or anything but his worst behaviors were saved for when he was hungry for the most part, other than that he was mostly just an annoyance. An annoyance currently not letting you take your time with the Sunday crossword. "8 across is isthmi, strip of land connecting two large areas separated by a body of water."

"I knew that."

"Is that why you took so long to write it down?" I could only glare as he sat there one hand holding up his head on the opposite end of the sofa. Chewing my cheek to stop a sly remark I twirled my pen before filling in the answer. It's been a few days since he's drank, too many smart remarks could have bad results.

Between answering hints that I was taking too long to figure out, Laito was playing with the other pages of the newspaper, folding them into aeroplanes to send across the room. Fiddling with one of his most recent planes absentmindedly, he began to speak.

"The real question is why do you do these crosswords when you're so bad at them." He was grinning as he looked up to see my reaction. However, unlike my normal remarks my face must've fallen because he looked incredibly confused.

"Oh? Strike a nerve little whore?~" He was all but purring, reveling in getting under my skin so effectively. All I could do in response is shake my head turning back to try focus on the crossword. About a minute of silence passed of pretending to focus on the page. Suddenly feeling breath near the back of my ear I flinch turning to see him hovering above me, arm on the headrest behind me and his other on the armrest caging me in. Panicking my breathing picked up as I tried to ensure as much distance between me and him as possible.

"Pictures," he mumbled. "The answer is pictures 4 down, you're not that bad...what are you thinking." He was staring straight at me, seeing straight through me. He reached back to his pocket before placing a familiar photo in front of me, the old crease down the center where I folded it in half to fit in my old uniform. It was a photo from the dormitories, I was 5 working on a crossword page torn from the paper while the older girls in the room were reading the paper and the younger ones played.

"I found it when going through your stuff to see what could be returned to you, can't have cellphones or anything useful for escape. Only to find this, some of those other girls are in the photo and just like every Sunday you ripped out the crossword page. Why?"

I didn't like this Laito, when he was just as sharp as his older brother's and not as easy to placate as the other two triplets. This Laito, who has now left me to share things I would've much rather keep private.

"Nowadays, the Church operates as a boarding school to draw in brides. You get there and you are cut off from the outside world, they tell us the girls run away when they're sent here. They wouldn't give us any real information, too many heretics in the world." Picking at the frayed edges of my hoodie's arm, I took a deep breath before continuing on. "I told the matron I liked crosswords, she did the weekly Sudoku, so since I was young I knew she thought I wouldn't break any rules. I would tear out the crossword page to do while the older girls read the paper to collect any news on disappearances and just on the greater world in general. I would return the paper and say I tore out the crossword to keep to see how my timing improved. Now it's just a habit that paper will never say anything about us or anything that can help right."

I saw him sit back out of the corner of my eye. Readying myself to be bitten or mocked I kept looking down.

"You still stick your tongue out when you focus, its cute."

Before I could even look up he was gone.

Subaru Sakamaki

Out of all the Sakamaki brothers, Subaru was by far the safest. His anger was predictable and mostly posed a risk to furniture over you, even his bites were gentle and so long as he didn't rush off he would seal the wound with what you had dubbed 'nasty healing spit'. So when he unofficial began acting as your bodyguard you didn't complain, or even acknowledge it out of fear he would stop and leave you to the bats.

The new routine was by far the most peaceful you had experienced in some time. You ate your breakfast on your balcony watching the sunset before the white haired shadow took his place brooding nearby. This 'morning' was no different, you set eating your breakfast as you looked through a small pile of photos that the computer club had salvaged from the remnants of your phone. As the sky faded from orange, to purple, to the dark blue of summer nights and stars began to appear in the sky you sat back, eying the door waiting for his appearance.

Your door opened, his figure being somewhat visible through the sheer curtains as he yawned. Once he pulled the curtain back to step outside he scowled seeing you waiting, but when did he not? He silently placed himself leaning against the door frame while you remained seated.

"You can sit closer you know. I don't bite, promise!" Grinning up at Subaru while his scowl worsened.

"You aren't going to last long if you have that attitude stupid."

"I thought we had an agreement, most liars don't call themselves liars."

"I'm a vampire, you shouldn't be so careless if you value your life."

Sighing and turning back to your pictures, you both continued to sit in silence. It took 5 minutes for Subaru to give in and move closer. You were still going through the photos not acknowledging his movement. If there's anything you've learnt it's that if you ever point out Subaru's behavior he runs away, ironic for such a fearsome creature. After he had some time to work up the courage he pointed to one in your hand.

"Who's that?"

The photo was of you wearing some roller skates at a roller disco party, you were 7 or 8. Your wrists covered in sparkly wrist bands and plasters covering your knees and palms from how much you had slipped practicing to avoid embarrassment.

"It's me at one of my friend's birthday party, About a year after this I first got sent to this boarding school linked to the Church. After a few years I was cut off from everyone and sent here. That was the last time I saw her actually, she moved away."

The albino nodded in understanding before once again entering into a lapse of silence. He kept looking back to that photo while you organized the rest of the pile, wrapping the photos in a piece of paper to prevent any sun or dust damage. Standing back up and collecting your belongings you looked to him expectantly. However, he just continued to stare off into the distance.

Weighing up your options and how much you currently valued your life, you leaned down to tap his shoulder. Aside from a minor jolt he seemed more receptive to you. Passing over the photo you were smiling.

"I don't want to look at this it makes me sad, but it seemed to catch your attention to here."

#shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers imagine #diabolik lovers headcanon #diaboys #shu sakamaki x reader #reiji sakamaki x reader #ayato sakamaki x reader #kanato sakamaki x reader #laito sakamaki x reader #subaru sakamaki x reader

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cheriladycl01 · 5 months ago

Text

The Rookie Prodigy - Carlos Sainz x Driver! Reader Part 8

Plot: You are a rookie coming into the 2022 season of Formula One into Alfa Romeo with team member Zhou Guanyu, being in a mid tier team can you help them rise up the ranks. What pressures occur for the only rookies within the 2022 line up!

You and Carlos took the flight to Spain from Miami together. After you slept in his hotel room for the night you knew you’d have to stay with him atleast until the Spanish Grand Prix. You felt so unsafe whenever you turned a corner, but being with Carlos made you feel like you weren’t fully alone.

By the time you got to his home it was the middle of the night and nobody was awake. The house was dark and quiet but you could tell that it was his family home from all the dark portraits of him and his family lining the walls in the entry way.

“Is this you?” You ask politely looking at the funny photo of a young toddler Carlos with cake smushed all over his face.

“Yes but don’t … don’t look at that” he sighs trying to pull you away from the many photos of him and his sisters and parents. Those photos then bled into those of his extended family that you did not recognise.

“It’s cute, that your mum and dad keep all this. And that you still have a room here” you smile kindly at him.

“Mmmm, I guess. Look I don’t want to make too much noise, I know my sisters have work early tomorrow so let’s go up to my room” he says taking your wrist to guide you up the stairs.

You follow his every footstep to make sure not to hit any of the planks of wood that will groan under weight. It was clear Carlos knew how to get in quietly. You make it up the large wooden staircase and he walks you carefully down the corridor.

For a minute you feel like a teenager again, no worries in the world apart from the wrath of a teenage boys mothers whose caught the two of you coming back into his room.

But the reason you are here with Carlos isn’t just because he’s snuck you back into his room after a night out. It’s for you safety, as many people out there, don’t like you right now.

Part of you thought it would have been wise to reach out to Lewis and see what he had to say. After all he was a large part to play in all this. At the same time you didn’t want him to feel guilty as though this was his fault.

Once Carlos had quietly shut the door of his room, he helped drag your case into the corner of the room.

“I’ll take the floor and you can take my bed” Carlos says in hushed tones, smiling softly looking over you.

“If you are okay with it, I’d rather share the bed with you. Y-your bed is against the wall, so if you lay next to me i’d feel safer… because no-one could get to me” you say sheepishly.

“You set the rules for us Y/N, it’s better if i go to the floor. I dont want to start something you wont let me finish. No-one can get to you in this house, you are safe!” he admits and you sigh.

Carlos was someone you wanted in your corner, luckily the Spaniard was a mature enough man to put behind him everything that occured between the two of you and be there for you as a friend.

But you couldn’t help but feel the … distance between the both of you. And it was growing more and more each day. At the hotel, he saw you in a moment of completley vulnerability and it’s not often that Carlos Sainz has women crying infront of him, that arent fans of course. So hugging you, and holding you as you sniffled yourself to sleep felt like the right thing to do.

But it broke his heart knowing that nothing would come of it, as you’d made those wishes very clear all that time ago. Career focused lady … at one point in life Carlos thought that was something very attractive in a woman, he’d be lying if he said he didnt now but he couldn’t help but be slightly annoyed at the world and how you assume you’ll be viewed if you were to ever be involved with a driver.

But then you also both had the answer to how people would react from the state that your home was left in all because there were rumours between you and Lewis.

Once you too thought about the consequences of sharing a bed, you agreed as the last thing you wanted to do was force the friendship down a rocky path, one where your jobs are affected on track.

That was the last thing you wanted.

“Are you sure the floor is okay? I feel really bad” you frown as you sit on the edge of his bed, looking at where he is stood across the room.

“Yeah, i have stuff from when my sisters used to have sleepovers in here with me” he smiles in a nostalgic sort of way, thinking of when he was younger.

“You used to have sleepovers?” you ask cocking a brow,not having expected that from him. However you could tell that he was very much a family man.

“Lets go to sleep hermosa, we can dicuss my family life more tomorrow, but you need rest” he sighs, starting to lay down a thin single matress next to the bed. He grabbed blankets from the wooden closet and a pillow from the bed you’d be sleeping in.

“Sorry, no spares” he says before settling and laying down. He’d changed into some pijamas behind a little partition in his room. He gestured for you to take your turn.

You were desperate for a shower and to scrub off the entire Miami weekend. She wanted to bask under some warm water, but knew that wasnt a possibility at this time of night and in a shared house.

You changed into a large t-shirt before awkwardly shuffling back round to get into his bed.

Despite him not being there often the sheets still smelt like … him. His cologne or his body wash and it was an intoxicating smell that had you laying on your back staring at the ceiling questioning everything.

“Carlos?” You ask quietly to see if he was awake, but when there was no reply you figure he is probably asleep.

“Maybe in another reality you and I could be something more, I think one of my biggest regrets in life will be pushing you away that day and my biggest fear is loosing you as a person in my corner, however that may be. You’ve been kind to me in the short time you’ve known me and made me feel safe and protected when I’ve never felt more vulnerable. I just hope you know that I’m thankful for everything you’ve done and I wish I could let that part of myself open up to you” you sigh letting out everything you’d been thinking throughout the day.

That night you’d slept the most peacefully you had done in years. And you couldn’t help but feel thankful to Carlos.

Taglist:

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violetrainbow412-blog · 2 years ago

Text

Hearts [S. R.]

Young!Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

and by public demand, part 2

summary: an intern pesters Spencer to get his attention and you help him get rid of it a bit, benefiting in the process.

A/N: here we go! started watching criminal minds last week and i'm halfway through the first season so expect a lot of content as I progress with the series. Spencer Reid from season one is the cutest thing I ever looked at

If you want to be added to the taglist just tell me, and if you have ideas, send them!

You'd think FBI offices would be quiet at night, but the truth is, with so many agents and interns reporting to do, the night seemed to be the busiest time.

After spending three months there you had almost obtained your own desk and knew most of the people, especially the BAU team whom you had been assigned to support for your internship. Since you began your university studies, you had wanted to work in that FBI unit and when the opportunity presented itself you were extremely excited, but now that it was a reality, you could realize that the workload was unimaginable and heavier than you expected. Still, with any luck, proper schooling, and practice you could be aiming for a permanent position in maybe two or three years. For now, being there as an intern was more than enough.

You were so engrossed in reading your computer screen that you didn't hear when the office door opened and it wasn't until a figure sat down next to you that you realized who it was.

You and Spencer Reid met many years ago, when you were both in middle school, in Las Vegas, and from that moment on you could appreciate what a prodigy he was. He was a very serious, quiet, and shy boy, but for some reason you always enjoyed his company and, judging by the fact that he never left you, you thought he did too. On some occasions you exchanged books that he returned to you in two days and you kept for a few weeks, you talked during some school breaks, you asked him for help with homework, and on more than one occasion you went so far as to defend him verbally from those silly children who bothered him; in general, you had something close to a friendship. You never thought that after so long, and so far from Las Vegas, you would see him again, much less in the condition you were in right now.

"Hey," you greeted him kindly, showing him a tired smile "What are you doing here?"

"I was finishing an analysis of yesterday's case," he replied. The team had had to profile another pyromaniac and for just a bit they had managed to catch him, which had left them somewhat tense "And you?"

"A report" you answered simply. You had the hypothesis that those kinds of activities ended up in the hands of the interns because they were extremely tedious and they wanted to get rid of it.

Reid wasn't much of a talker if the occasion didn't call for it and you knew it, so it wasn't too strange that he would only sit near you to watch you work, although there was something different about him tonight that alarmed you.

"You think I'm dumb?" he asked suddenly, forcing you to look up at him.

"You? Are you asking me if I think Doctor Reid is dumb? you asked, emphasizing his title, but he gently shook his head.

"Not in that sense, but like... weird or something."

“We all are a little bit. And that's not so bad” you said sincerely. You knew that on some occasions Spencer would ask questions and all you had to do was wait a bit for him to tell you what the doubt was about.

“And do you think…?” he started to say, a little unsure "Do you think I don't have a girlfriend because I'm that weird?"

"Who told you that?" you exclaimed more directly. You imagined that this concern could only arise from someone having suggested it, as had already happened on other occasions, and it still touched you a little that he had the confidence to assist you for that kind of thing.

"No, no one in particular"

"You know, I think you don't care about having or not having a girlfriend" you ventured to say "Was it Morgan?"

“No, not him,” he hastened to say, thinking a little about his next words, “Uhm, that girl from the department next door…”

"Victoria," you cut him off, rolling your eyes in anticipation and feeling the heat already rising up your cheeks. She was a typical mean girl; long black hair, tall, always wearing expensive dresses, high heels, and fake smiles. You'd met this girl during internships and it took you a couple of weeks to make you feel uncomfortable around her, but you finished hating her when you realized how intent she seemed to be on embarrassing Spencer every chance she got. The fact that her father was a department head made it a bit difficult to deal with any situation. "Why do you care what she says?"

“She is… persistent”

"You know she only does it because she wants to get your attention, right?" you explained, a little fed up with the situation and how he was always affected by what others said about him.

It was clear that from the beginning she had her eye on the young man, and on those days, she would walk around the office and try to start a conversation with Spencer, which he never carried out. When she noticed that her attempts were useless, she began to make hurtful comments that became recurring as the months went by, since it was the only time when she could receive any kind of attention from the brown-haired man. Spencer frowned, quite confused by the situation when you told him that, since apparently he hadn't made the same account of the facts as you.

"What are you talking about?"

"She likes you" you insisted, as if it were something obvious, although it didn't seem so to him. You could almost see how the gears in his brain were struggling to find a degree of coherence between the events that he had been ignoring for a long time.

"Then why does she say such horrible things to me?"

“It's because…” you mumbled, closing the lid of your computer and looking for a way to explain to the boy. It was amazing how he was the most intelligent person you knew and at the same time he would come to you to ask such banal things like that "she is a stupid girl who has had everything in life and since she isn't capable of having an intelligent conversation with you, she thinks that being mean is going to get your attention. It's like those kids who pulled your hair in elementary school," you muttered, trying to present an analogy, but he didn't react in any way “She probably only told you that because she wanted to know if you have a girlfriend, not because she really believed it.”

Spencer took a moment to absorb that, wondering how that made sense, since for him the fact that you liked a person implied being kind and attentive, not behaving as Victoria did with him. But you had read the signs from the beginning and that was probably another reason for your dislike for your internship partner, who you thought was unworthy of being attracted to someone as cute as him. Although during high school he hadn't been the most sought after by girls, now he was quite handsome and that shy and polite attitude made him even more attractive, at least for you. Besides the fact that, of course, it was a genius who you were talking to.

"And why didn't she just ask?" he genuinely murmured and you couldn't help but giggle.

"I don't know, when we like a person, we do stupid things"

"Do you really think she likes me?"

"Of course, what reason would there be for her not to?" you mumbled and he just looked away, as he did most of the time, while he shrugged, which made you think that maybe this conversation was more serious than you imagined "Do you like her?"

"No! Definitely not” he said right away, as if he was offended “It just seems strange to me that you say that”

"Say what?"

"That someone likes me"

"Oh, please," you breathed, completely incredulous. "You're charming, Reid, I don't think she’s the only one who likes you”

"Do you think I'm charming?" he said, slightly skeptical. You loved his reaction to any compliment he received.

"Sometimes" you lied. Actually, you thought he was charming all the time "Besides you're an FBI profiler, don't you detect that kind of thing in girls?"

"It's harder to analyze women than criminals," he argued, making you chuckle slightly.

Suddenly the report you had to make was forgotten and you wished you wanted to spend more time with him, although you didn't know if he would be willing to do the same. It was one thing to be together at work and another very different thing was that he wanted to be with you personally.

"Do you have anything in particular to do today?" you exclaimed cautiously, so the question allowed him to politely get rid of the invitation if he wanted to. You held back your urge to smile when he said no, attentive to what you had to say “Do you want to go to my apartment? If I'm still here I'm going to have a migraine and I think you should relax for a while too”

“Go to your apartment?” he asked, just to be sure, to which you nodded.

“Yeah, like… order some pizza, and… do you like wine? I have wine at home. And we can put on thrillers and see who can figure out who the killer is first”

"I would beat you"

"You think so, Reid?" you said, challenging his strange burst of confidence, and Spencer nodded playfully, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. "I'll buy you your week's coffee if you beat me" saying this, you knew full well you didn't stand a chance, but if a couple of dollars spent on coffee would get you a few extra hours with him, you were willing to accept that.

"It's a deal" he smiled and in less than ten minutes you were out of the offices.

As expected, you lost the game, but you couldn't say you ended the night disappointed. At first you didn't even know why you invited him, because outside of that neighborhood park in Las Vegas, you'd never spent any time alone. Spencer was all shy at first, always sitting up straight and hugging his briefcase, but when you broke the tension he relaxed considerably. The wine helped a bit because, although he confessed to you that he didn't drink often, you two ended up with a bottle of red that you had in the cupboard; not too much to lose consciousness, but enough to get gigglier. Even Spencer's ever-dapper outfit was thrown into disarray, as he'd loosened his tie and removed his vest to deal with the rise in body temperature the alcohol brought on. As promised you had pizza for dinner, which he refused to let you pay for, and in the process you put on some of the classic movies you found, according to google, making sure neither of you had seen them before. That night you were tempted to tell your partner that he could sleep over there if he wanted, but you had to say that a hint like that might make him uncomfortable. You didn't want to break the magic of the moment.

So the next morning you walked into the Quantico offices more energetic than usual, holding a couple of glasses of coffee on a tray.

"Good morning, Y/L/N" Morgan greeted you, as you approached the BAU work area, where Hotch and Elle were also present.

"Good morning, have you seen Spencer today?"

"I suppose he arrived, but I haven't seen him"

"I think he hid in the kitchen"

"Why do you ask?" muttered Morgan, who was probably the gossipiest of the three and also the most teasing. You knew, unfortunately, that if you didn't tell him, he would question Spencer, and you didn't want him to feel uncomfortable.

“I bought him a coffee. We made a bet last night and I'll be buying it all week"

"So you're trying to make him fall for you, huh" he exclaimed, completely ignoring your explanation, so you decided to play along.

"I think I'll need a few more months for that" judging by the man's laugh, you knew that the answer had satisfied him. You wondered if it bothered you that Spencer might misinterpret that joke as fact, but at the same time you wondered if it really was something that bothered you enough to deny it.

You walked down the aisle looking for the brown-haired boy and greeted a few people along the way, until, as if by divine grace, you looked at the man’s back and at the same time heard the click of heels, which you already knew quite well, going in the same direction.

"Spencer!" you called him before Victoria could tell him anything, and he turned with that awkwardness that characterized him showing a small smile when he noticed that it was you.

"Hello"

“You better not be making your coffee,” you murmured, getting close enough to hand her the cup you brought on the tray and making sure Victoria, who was making her own drink, would overhear the conversation. “I hope you like it. Sweet as you"

"Thank you," he replied, slightly embarrassed by the compliment you'd just paid him. He peered into the cup and frowned “Why did the barista write a heart next to my name?”

“It wasn't the barista, it was me”

It took Spencer a moment to sink the words in, and then he looked back at you with a confused expression.

"And why did you write a heart next to my name?"

You couldn't help but contain a laugh and Victoria, who had been attentive to the entire conversation, contained an angry sigh when she saw you extend your hand to the boy's bicep to give it a squeeze, taking the opportunity to get a little closer to him.

"I hope to repeat last night sometime" you muttered ignoring his question "I really had fun"

"Me too," he said, faster than you'd expect, and you smirked to notice that she was right next to him, her jaw clenching angrily. Without Reid realizing it, that talk could be completely interpreted as you've had a sexual affair, and not only that, but you were looking forward to it again.

"I'll see you around, right?"

"I think so" he replied. Spencer took a sip of the coffee you bought him, as if he'd just remembered it, and took a moment to savor it, closing his eyes in the process. You tried not to be distracted by the afterimage of him licking his lips. "I love it, what's with it?"

“Huh-uh, I won't tell you. If you want to drink it, you will have to ask me” you replied playfully. You thought that perhaps, at some point, he would become uncomfortable with your indiscreet flirtations, but when he smiled at you and looked away, you knew he was actually liking it. And if Spencer liked being fawned over, you weren't going to put up a fight.

"Thank you"

"It's nothing, doctor. Good luck on your day" you said goodbye, showing him the most beautiful smile you were capable of manifesting.

After that you made sure to look Victoria square in the eye as you left, confident that if she tried to say something rude to the profiler again you would confront her yourself and finally got lost. She looked at him, utterly offended, and then did the same, leaving behind the cup of coffee she was preparing to lock herself in the office and be grumpy all day. But Spencer didn't even notice any of it, as he was too busy looking closely at his heart in his cup to get any idea of what it might mean.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía

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harumwahsa · 1 month ago

Text

Since his demo's title is "When the Crows Perch", I've done a little digging around about the symbolism of crows. I only knew that crows are related to death and misfortune before, so I was curious if there were actually other symbolisms.

I have puked out my brain. 🙂 I made the important parts in coloured fonts, so I hope it'll be an easy read.

So! About crows.

Known for their intelligence and their capability to adapt to different environments, crows symbolise changes and transformation. They're also believed to be spiritual messengers; thus, seeing them is a sign to take a different perspective in life.

Other than that, crows are sharp and cautious creatures, which is why people deem that a crow's presence is an omen. A bad one? A good one? Either is actually possible.

In Harumasa's demo, however, what we saw wasn't just any crowーwe saw white crows. Is there a difference? I did more digging. White is a symbol of purity and seeing a white crow is a rare occurence, so a white crow is believed to be a symbol of fortune. In other words, it can be interpreted as: there will be a good change ahead.

Now, let's look at the white crow that appeared in the demo.

It has yellow eyes. Like Harumasa. Is it on purpose? Could it be that it's also a representation of who he used to be; a child with pure intentions who people saw as their hope? Was he the white crow of his family/wherever he came from?? Actually, he could very much still be a white crow for those people, considering the fact that he is a prodigy since young.

I have that thought because in the 1.4 Special Program, they mentioned that a lot of expectations were placed on him. While it could be worn like a badge of honour, the weight of the sense of responsibility that comes with it could be like shackles. Ouch.

Anyway...

Speaking of changes, I took a look at these pictures again.

(1) "Something he can't get over or leave behind." Can't blame him. People expect a lot from him, and he also went through terrifying experiences. None of these things could be dropped so easily.

(2) BabyMasa is in the brighter side of the room, while the man is in the darker sideーin fact, the man is in grayscale. The only thing coloured is that syringe filled with unknown red substance, hidden behind his back. Suspicious lil shーanywaaaaay. I think it's safe to assume that this picture conveys that the man is the one who tainted the white crow image Harumasa has been carrying.

Soooooo.

White crow is a sign of fortune, but to Harumasa? Absolutely not. Everytime he encounters white crow(s), he's painfully reminded of the monster inside him. Something he keeps refusing to accept. ⬇️

Scribbling over his medical reports. I can be delusional and say that his doctor was the one who did that out of boredomーbut yeah. Let's be real and drown in agony instead. Harumasa probably reads his medical records often. That thing was on his bedside table with his pills, somewhere easy to reach. Can't sleep? Bedtime story. Oh, would you look at that! I'm sick!! 😦

Let me dump a whole packet of salt into your wounded heart as well while we're at it. I just want to point out the changes of his pictures in his medical records.

18th July.

First scene: A picture of his adult self in his medical records. Harumasa woke up without his choker on. Curtains were closed. It was raining outside. Choker on. Maybe this would contain his nightmarish thoughts? Wrong. Even while he was fighting against the Ethereals, he saw himself in them. Arrow shot, injecting his younger self. In the Special Program, it was mentioned that he has to clock off on time, even in battlefield. I guess we can say that he doesn't want to be surrounded by these things that remind him of his condition.

Second scene: A picture of when he was a child in his medical records. More scribbles. Harumasa woke up with his choker on. The rain has stopped. Maybe the thoughts would stop this time? Oh. Mirror crackedーa sign of misfortune. Horrors persisted.

No picture in the last one. He was also not on his bed in the last scene. The curtains were left opened, there were lights streaming in. The birthday message came in. I would say that he was out and celebrating, or that he was doing a mission. But, I doubt someone would leave their phone behind if that were the case.

"Congrats on making it this far." Did he really? He couldn't accept himself in the current time. He couldn't accept his past either.

.... I don't need to spell out what this particular scene could imply, right?

MOVING ON.

His choker is used to cover up the injection marks. I wonder if they deliberately made four of these marks, given that 4 ('shi') means death. We Harumasa lovers live in constant worry. Actually, scratch that. We Harumasa lovers live in constant FEAR.

Even with the choker on, he still covered his neck with his hands when he was called a monster. It could be that he was recalling all those times he was injected, God knows how many times, by chemicals. It could be an attempt to deny the existence of those marks. It could be a way to reassure himself, to tell himself that he's still a human. Or it could be all of them together.

This "Look closer... it's YOU." scene is also stuck in my head. I just think it's intriguing. This scene could have two meanings, no? "Look closer... it's YOU." WHICH?!? The heroic Harumasa, or the monster he became? Both...?

If this "Look closer... it's YOU." message was from the white crow, then it might be referring to Harumasa being a saviour, regardless of what he is. BUT, the way he interpreted it? Of course he couldn't see himself as such. Not when fear consumes him, nope. All he sees is a murderous monster, through and through.

Okay. I'm done vomitting words. My head is empty YAAAY. 🥳 Thank you for reading! Let's heal ourselves now with a handsome picture of Asaba Harumasa. 💛

#zenless zone zero #zenless #zzzero #zzz #asaba harumasa

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ninibeingdelulu · 7 months ago

Text

"Nothing matters if you're not by my side"

plot- a snowball fight with Kaiser CLICK ME

The backyard was a pristine blanket of untouched white as far as the eye could see. Overnight, a thick layer of powdery snow had coated every surface in dreamy, muffled tranquility.

It was the kind of sparkling winter scene that just demanded to be disturbed and christened properly.

That's why Michael shouldn't have been surprised when you came bounding into the living room bright and early, eyes alight with childlike excitement as you tugged on his sleeve.

"Mikka Mikka, come look outside - isn't it perfect for a snowball fight? Please, let's go play!"

He couldn't fight the indulgent chuckle rumbling up from his chest at your enthusiasm.

Despite being one of the world's most renowned young soccer prodigies, Michael was still just a besotted boyfriend at heart when it came to you.

Denying you anything that brought that radiant smile to your face was simply impossible.

"You know I can never resist that pouty lip when you stick it out like that," he teased, leaning down to playfully nip at your protruding lower lip with his own.

Chuckling at your squeal of delight, Michael scooped you up into a snug embrace.

"Alright, alright - you win, troublemaker. But you'd better be prepared for the battle of your life once we're out there!"

You were already squealing with glee and wiggling free from his arms, scrambling to tug on heavy winter gear.

Michael just shook his head with a bemused grin and followed at a more laidback pace. He could pretend to be a fearsome opponent, but your sunny exuberance was more irresistible to him than any force in nature.

Soon enough, you'd both tumbled outside into the winter wonderland together.

Michael had barely stamped his snow boots down before the first salvo came whizzing by - a tightly packed sphere of snow pinging off his shoulder with impressive accuracy.

"Gotcha!" You were already dancing away on nimble feet, stooping to quickly gather more ammunition while cackling madly.

"En garde, Mr. Superstar! Prepare to face the ultimate cold wrath!"

Lips twitching in amusement, Michael acted quickly to hastily construct a defensive barrier while your barrage intensified.

You were relentless, cheeks already tinged rosy from the chill as you bobbed and weaved with impish zeal.

Lighthearted jeers and teasing taunts merged with the sounds of quickly sculpted projectiles thudding in every direction.

Before long, peals of unrestrained laughter and wheezing breaths mingled in the crisp air. Michael was astonished by how quickly the fearsome soccer machine had melted away - leaving behind just an utterly smitten young man gleefully scrambling through the snow with his best girl by his side.

More than anything, he cherished how naturally these carefree moments seemed to bloom anymore when he was with you.

He was so lost in thought that the next icy missile caught him completely off-guard, shattering in an icy explosion right across his face and chest.

You froze, immediately clapping hands over your mouth in dismay...right until Michael's shocked expression melted into a full-bodied bellow of mirth.

"Oh, you're gonna regret it!" he crowed, already forging another ammo stockpile while stomping towards you with booming guffaws.

You just squealed in delight and turned to flee, still abundantly giggling as well. But Michael's longer strides had him closing the distance rapidly.

The next thing you knew, his arms were banding around your waist from behind in an inescapable bear hug.

Your shrieks of helpless laughter intensified as he simply lifted you clean off your feet, swinging you up and over in a graceful arc.

Then, suddenly, there was nothing but soft and weightless suspension in midair - just long enough for your startled gaze to meet his adoring one.

Michael's eyes crinkled at the corners with pure contentment just drinking in the brilliance of your joy and startled expression...right before you both came crashing back down in a tangle of limbs cushioned by that forgiving pillowy expanse of snow.

There was a beat of stunned stillness where neither of you could do anything but gaze at each other in hazy wonder through the clinging powdery veil.

Slowly, Michael shifted to brace his weight on his elbows, caging your disheveled form beneath him as loose snow clumps tumbled from both your bodies.

Tenderly, he reached out to brush away more stray flakes clinging to your wind-tousled hair, his thumb tracing the arch of your flushed cheeks with unbridled affection.

You were all aglow, sparkling and effervescent and impossibly beautiful in that moment.

Michael's breath caught in his throat with the sudden realization of how lucky he truly was.

That out of everyone in the world, he alone got to have moments like this with you.

These priceless intimacies and flashes of unfiltered, untempered bliss brought into his life by the one person who'd disarmed his defenses so effortlessly.

A brilliant future and career in soccer awaited him, of that Michael was certain...but all the fame and glory in the world would be hollow without these tiny interludes of perfection with you alongside him.

His safe harbor in the storm. His beacon of radiant joy to look forward to amidst all the pressure and responsibilities threatening to overwhelm him at times.

Helpless adoration and gratitude swelled within Michael's chest like a tidal force as you simply gazed up at him - small crystalline snowflakes clinging to your ruddy cheeks and the dark fan of your lashes.

An ethereal winter sprite incarnate, created for the sole purpose of reminding him about everything else that truly mattered beyond the pitch.

"...Hey," he rumbled at last, voice slightly husky with profound emotion.

One calloused hand came up to cradle your face with infinite tenderness - no longer the touch of a soccer prodigy but simply a young man utterly besotted.

"I love you. So much. Thanks for always making me remember how to be human, snowflake."

And when that sunburst smile broke out across your radiant features again, Michael swore he'd just been handed the entire world and more.

Right there, bundled up together amongst the pristine snow drifts in your own private paradise, their sacred little pocket of bliss and belonging.

He dipped his head without hesitation to capture your lips in a searing, lingering kiss.

One gloved hand buried into the snowbank by your tangled tresses to anchor you flush against him, savoring the faint chill and woodsmoke taste of your mouth. A sensation he could quite happily spend the rest of eternity drowning within forever.

Because this - tangled up in your arms amid nature's most exquisite wintry grandeur, savoring the sublime beauty of your limitless spirit joining with his own - was what real life and living was all about at the end of the day.

Soccer, fame, glory...it all paled in comparison.

And with you as his eternal muse and ethereal inspiration, Michael knew this rapturous joy would only keep blossoming and growing more infinite for both of them with each year that followed. An endless snowdrift of perfect moments yet to come.

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