#i think you'd like it jo

[a-dash-in-the-middle]

Should I make a sandwich if its a cocktail's made me crave it and not hunger made me crave it?

[todayisafridaynight]

'tumblr if you snipe the quality of another post of mine im going to break into your cellar and ruin all of your wine' translation: click for better quality

80's version

[one-little-nerd-stayed-home]

Continuing the theme of 'fuck I missed that first playthrough'

The announcement over intercom on the Citadel saying the ENTIRE GODDAMN BATARIAN HEGEMONY HAS BEEN DESTROYED. I literally just got to the Citadel I haven't even talked to the Council yet I just...

You ever see a background detail in a story that fills you with so much existential distress that you wanna lay down and scream?

[fandomsandfeminism]

Yall wanna hear a kinda funny, kinda sad story about my grandmother and hetero-normativity?

Ok, so... when my grandmother was in her 50s (I was an infant), she met a woman at the Unitarian Church. And, as can happen when you meet your soul mate, this event made it impossible for her to deny parts of herself that she had fiercely hidden her whole life.

All the drama- their affair being found out, the divorce with my grandfather, the court battle over who got the house, happened while I was a baby. Even in my earliest memories, it's just Mama Jo and Oma, and my grandfather lived elsewhere (first his own apartment, then a nursing home, then with us.)

But here's the thing- no one ever explained any of this to me. No one ever sat down and was like "hey, Rosie, so do you know what a lesbian is?" It was the 90s. It was Texas. I think my mom was still kinda processing all this, and just assumed that like... I was gonna figure it out. Don't mention it, let it just be normal. Like I think my mom thought that if she explained the situation, she would be making it weird? I dunno.

But like. In the 90s, in all the movies I had seen and books I had read, do you know how many same sex couples I had seen? Like. 0. Do you know how many "platonic best friend/roommates" I had seen? A lot. I had no context, is what I'm saying.

I literally thought this was a Golden Girls, roommates, besties situation until I was like...I dunno, 11? 12?

It was actually their parrot, an African Grey named Spike, imitating my grandmothers voice saying "Johanna, honey, it's getting late", that triggered the MIND BLOWN moment as I realized that *there's only one master bedroom and it only has 1 waterbed* when all the pieces finally clicked.

Anyway. I think it's a real important thing for kids to know queer people exist, for a lot of reasons, but also because kids can be clueless and it's embarrassing to have your grandmother be outted by a parrot because everyone just thought you'd figure it out on your own.

Anyway, here is my grandma and her wife, my Oma, after they moved to Albuquerque to be artsy gay cowboys and live their best life. They helped run a "Lesbian Dude Ranch" out there (basically just with funding and financial support. As Oma has explained "traditionally, most lesbians don't have a lot of money" so they wrote the checks and let the younger ladies actually run the ranch.)

[two-white-butterflies]

you'll live forever | part one

Description: Hwang In-ho joins the newest edition of Squid Games as Player 001. He sees the wife that he believes to be dead, and she cannot remember him.

Pairing: hwang in-ho/reader

A/N: I love Squid Games but let us not allow the capitalism-fication of this franchise to let us forget about the series' core message. capitalism sucks. Don't let violence desensitize us. Warning: idk if I used the word hyung correctly... multipart, comment to get tagged.

There were times when he'd wake up too early in the morning when the sun would greet his sensitive eyes, and he'd take a longer time to adjust to the brightness. In those rare moments, he sees the faint silhouette of your body, in those rare times, he even smells your cherry blossom perfume.

A sigh escapes his mouth as he sinks further into the sheets.

No matter how far his hands reach out - you won't be there to hold it.

"I have work tomorrow, I don't want to drink." A complaint escapes In-ho's mouth as his younger brother drags him to the nearest bar. In-ho has never been fond of spending time around other people, he'd much rather focus on work and getting that new promotion...

"Who said anything about drinking, hyung? You promised me that you'd make time to meet my girlfriend," the younger man rolls his eyes, dragging his brother to the center of the room where everyone was huddled near the television. Yep, soccer. "My schedule is cleared next Saturday," In-ho raises an eyebrow.

"Oppa!!" He hears someone scream at the top of their lungs, and his brother quickly makes her way towards the woman - greeting her with a hug. 'Young love,' In-ho thinks to himself, as he turns to look the other way - he suddenly catches a glimpse of someone.

You.

One.

His eyes trailed upwards, soaking in the sight of your face. He sees his future inside of your eyes, your perfect lips, the way you slowly begin to smile at him.

Two.

His gaze trails downwards as he sees the beautiful dress that you're wearing. He begins to praise the summer days, his eyes brushing against your creamy thighs, making his heart thump erratically.

Three.

"Hyung, this is my girlfriend Hee-jo and that's her friend. What was your name again?" His brother turns to look at you, and that smile deepens - your eyes meeting his. "My name's In-ho," he greets, and you mumble your name underneath your breath, shaking his hand.

"I'm sorry for tagging along Jun-ho. Hee-jo's dad made me come with," You blushed. In fear that you were intruding on the couple's personal moment. "Don't worry, you're like a sister to me." Jun-ho chuckles, sitting beside Hee-jo - leaving his brother with no choice but to sit beside you.

As Hee-jo raises her hand to drink a glass of beer, the entire bar erupts into a cacophony of cheers - South Korea has earned a point! Everyone stands up, but In-ho and you remain seated.

He smiles, watching you cheer for the motherland.

This particular memory has been burned into his mind. It only took him three seconds to see you and fall in love. "Yay," you giggled after the bartenders announced a round of drinks on the house. And after that encounter, fate seemed to smile on you both.

He remembers all the memories, the good and bad.

He also remembers your first date. It was the first winter of 2008. "You were born in 1976?" You raised an eyebrow, continuing to stuff your face with beef and lettuce. "Yes, is there something wrong with that?" He pretended to look offended.

'How old is she?' his eyebrows merged together.

He places a piece of kimchi inside his mouth. "How old are you?" He asks, cursing himself for forgetting to ask Jun-ho. "I was born in 1986. I honestly thought that you were much younger," you pouted.

'That would make her...' he calculates your age in the back of his mind. Ten years younger than him! He almost bites his tongue. "Is that going to be a problem?" He tilts his head. He definitely does not have a chance with someone like you, so beautiful and young.

"No, I like older men." You say bluntly. He almost spits out his drink, earning a giggle from you. "Ouch," he pretends to be hit. "So, what is it exactly that you do for work?" You ask with a smile, happily eating your meal. "I'm a police officer. I mostly do detective cases, what about you?" He inquires with interest.

"I just graduated. I work at the hospital." You informed.

"Are you a doctor?" He asks.

"No, I'm a nurse. It's always been a dream of mine," your eyes sparkle at the mention of making your dreams a reality. "Saving people," you quickly added. "- I guess you feel the same way too, since you're a police officer." You pointed out.

In-ho nods.

"I guess we are the same," he continues nodding. The entire date, the smile does not leave his lips...then,

One date, becomes two, becomes a thousand.

And finally, you are getting married to him.

"Hey, are you okay?" In-ho wraps his arms around you, preparing to meet your guests who are waiting in the reception. A deep sigh escapes your mouth. "I'm scared," you confessed. He wraps his arms around you, already aware of your fears.

"I mean everyone's going to be from your side of the family - and everyone's already talking about how I don't have parents." You chuckled nervously. All these ajummas won't stop talking about your personal life. In-ho has even contemplated not inviting them at all, but his father insisted. "Fuck them," he shakes his head, cupping your cheeks and pressing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"Let's enjoy our wedding," he smiles.

"I love you, In-ho." You repeated.

"I love you more," he responded.

He has always loved you more.

The beautiful days of the roses were over, he was only left with the darkness of the night. "ESRD," the doctor opened his mouth to speak. "How dangerous is it?" In-ho fights against that heaving feeling in the back of his throat.

"ESRD, End Stage Renal Disease is where the kidney can no longer support the body's needs. Most typically, I would recommend dialysis in moderate cases, but for severe cases, I strongly advise a kidney transplant. Your wife has a very common blood type, it will be easy to get a match, but that's not the problem." The doctor hesitates, In-ho recognizes the man to be one of your closest friends.

He hands In-ho a stack of files.

"It's expensive to pay for kidney transplants in this country. There is a waiting list for donors, but it'll take decades - there are some who sell their kidneys but it costs almost a billion won, and then there's the medicine, the operation, and the hospital. It takes a lot of money and she's one of my closest friends so please feel free to reach out to me. I can give a bit of what I have." The doctor rambles.

Whatever it takes, even when the cost is too high.

₩649,344,412

In-ho stares at the cost of your transplant, and he knows that he doesn't have that money. "We'll be fine," he tells himself.

"I need to borrow money," In-ho stares at the loanshark. The man looked like a typical gangster, with tattoos all over his forearm, and the smell of cigarettes looming over the air.

"The high and mighty detective borrowing money from someone like me?" The man teased. In-ho has been watching this man for the past two years, waiting for a mistake - the loanshark's #1 enemy, and now begging at his doorsteps for money. "10% interest rate, you pay every month." The loanshark emphasized.

His cronies laugh, and one of them continues to massage him.

"5% and you give me the cash today," In-ho demands, an air of authority radiating around him. "Borrow money from someone else," the man scoffs. "- I know about the money laundering." In-ho leans cooly on the chair, pretending to be confident about the situation.

"6%," the man clenches his jaw.

"You have yourself a deal," In-ho agrees.

After the secret meeting, the loanshark got arrested. In-ho was fired from his job - the superiors believed that he was bribed to hide the loanshark's secret. And then he got a call from a random number.

He played ddakji with a strangely well-dressed man in the middle of the subway station, and he joined the 28th Squid Games.

He won the 28th Squid Games.

He exited the black van, his white shoes meeting the dirty ground. He stands to look at your home, everyone is staring at him. "What are you doing here!" Hee-jo screams at him. "She's dead, you didn't even visit her, she's dead!" Hee-jo yells.

In-ho stares in shock, looking around him, to see different types of flowers scattered all over the porch. 'I have the money,' he wanted to say as tears spilled out of his irises. "How dare you come here." Hee-jo continued crying as her grip on his forearm tightens, hurting him.

"In-ho," his younger brother looks shocked to see him.

"I'm sorry," In-ho mumbles.

I'm sorry.

Comment to get tagged for PT. 2

[stunie]

“GONNA SHOW HIM YOU’RE MINE.”

WINDBREAKER BOYS + LOVE BITES. ft. togame jo, hayato suo, kaji ren, sakura haruka, & umemiya hajime x f!reader

filled request: “Can I request for umemiya, sakura, suo, and kaji where they see reader with another guy friend and they get jealous because the guy is being flirty and obviously trying to make moves but reader is dense so then the boys give reader a hickey for the first time to show that reader is taken??”

mdni ! suggestive. 1.5K WC ; added togame ! :>

TOGAME JO. pet name ‘doll’ used!

“Him again?”

You adjust the straps of your top before twisting and turning to get a better look at your outfit. “Mhm,” you hum in response. “Said he needed help asking someone out today. I’m gonna help pick the flowers.”

Togame's eyes narrow a bit at the obvious intent of your friend. It didn’t help that you really didn't have a single clue in the world, and on top of your obliviousness— you're dressed so cute.

The combination was just a recipe for disaster, and he wants to finally put an end to it today.

“Ah— what are you doing?” You yelp when he suddenly tugs at your wrist, pulling you off balance as you stumble and fall onto his lap. His arm comes to loop around your waist before you can even stabilize yourself, hugging you tight against his chest.

“Togame, let go.” You whine, “I’m gonna be late!”

“Don’t wanna.”

The casualty of his tone makes your eyebrow twitch. He almost sounds bored with how slow the words come out of his mouth, and despite that fact, his arm doesn’t seem to budge at all when you try and push against him.

“Plus…..” he’s choosing to ignore your efforts to move him— or he just doesn’t notice them in the first place. “You don’t need to meet with a guy like that anyway.”

“And why is that?” You retort, arms crossing in frustration as you give up and resort to simply glaring back at your boyfriend. “..Are you jealous?”

“Course I am, doll.” He grins, fingers pulling your top’s strap out of the way before his lips attach themselves to the side of your neck, sucking at the skin as you shiver. His hand tilts your jaw to the side, giving him the space he needs to better suckle and kiss your neck.

You can’t help the little noise that slips out when he releases the skin with a loud pop, exhaling deeply against you before peppering kisses beside the dark mark he's given you.

“Can’t stand when guys are tryna get at what's mine.”

HAYATO SUO. reader described as having hair you can hold up (ie moving it to adjust a necklace)

“That friend of yours..” Suo coos against the shell of your ear, “really likes you, doesn’t he?”

He’s looming right over you, his familiar smile looking a little different today when his arms are caging you right beneath him, and you suck in a sharp breath when he leans down, tassel earrings tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“H-huh? He does?” your voice comes out a little breathless from the way his lips are just barely hovering over your skin.

“He does. You couldn't tell?”

In any other situation, he would think your innocence would be endearing. But after watching your friend get all close to you like that, holding your hair up and then fixing your necklace for you— he couldn't help it. A part of him is thankful for how steady his voice comes out, because you'd never be able to guess that just below his calm exterior- he was absolutely fuming with jealousy.

“No, I didn't know.” You whisper. “But you know I would've turned him down if he said anything-”

“I can help with that.” He interrupts, tone sweet and soothing. He plants a kiss just below your ear, his breath grazing your ear, and it sends a shiver straight down your spine.

“H-how?” you squeak.

You can feel him smile against you before his hand comes to tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck for him. “Just like this.” He whispers before he's taking a sharp inhale, lips latching onto you as he sucks harshly.

The noise that comes out of you riles him up even more. He’s sucking harder before he even realizes, calm demeanor crumbling just a bit when he hears the noises you’re making just for him.

You think you felt his teeth graze your neck for a second when he releases the skin, pulling back a bit to admire the mark he’s left on your neck.

“It’s a good idea, right? Turn your head the other way for me now.”

KAJI REN. calls you ‘my girl.’

“W-what's wrong, Kaji?” You manage to stammer between kisses. “You’re a lot rougher today— is something on your mind?”

He pulls back a bit when your hands tug at his hair, a part of him content when he sees the way your lips are slightly swollen, your mouth parted to catch your breath as your chest rises up and down from the intensity.

There was a lot on his mind, but marking you up was at the forefront of his brain. He could already tell that only kissing you just wasn’t gonna cut it after all that’s happened today.

“‘S fine.” He mutters before he’s back on top of you, his lips roughly latching onto the skin just beneath your collarbone, sucking at the skin as you gasp above him. “Oh— t-that feels good,” your voice comes out as a breathy sigh, “are you… mad still?”

“Mad at that friend of yours.” He growls against your skin, pressing a quick kiss onto the mark until he's moving onto another part of your neck, lips hovering just below your ear. “He was tryna get at my girl right in front of me.”

“I’m sure he wasn't— ah!” You gasp when his arms wrap around your middle, pulling you flush against his body as he tilts his head to better nestle into the crook of your neck.

“Got me pissed off just seeing him looking at you like that.” His teeth graze against your skin when he sucks particularly hard. “Gonna make sure he’ll get a nice and close look at these next time.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

Kissing Sakura is much, much different today.

He’s rough— hands trailing along your back, sending an shiver straight down your spine as he deepens the kiss, breaths mingling with urgency. The way he’s kissing you so desperately today has little gasps escaping your lips, which do nothing but encourage him to touch you more.

“F-fuck,” he gasps between kisses, pulling back to inhale sharply before your fingers come to tangle in his hair, pulling him right back into you.

“Someone's in a bad mood.” You giggle, and he scoffs in response, a dusting of pink over his cheeks. “‘M not mad.”

“You sure? What’s got you so worked up?”

And he hates that he doesn't know. He doesn't know what this feeling is, so he has no idea how to get rid of it. All he knows is that it didn't feel nice when he saw your friend all up over you.

It should've been him instead— he thinks. And all he wants now is to have you.

Your breath hitches in your throat when his lips begin to trace a path down your neck, pressing wet kisses between each inch of skin. “I don't know,” he admits through a deep blush, “just want…this.”

Just thinking about the earlier events makes his blood boil again, and it shows in his next kiss. He accidentally sucks at your neck for a moment, and a lewd moan slips right through your lips.

Your hand slaps over your mouth a moment too late, and he freezes in place, deep blush spreading to his ears at the sound. He’s never heard you never make that noise before.

“D-don't stop, Sakura,” you urge, tugging at his hair, “feels good.”

He pulls back a bit to roughly shake his head, shake off the irritating blush before his eyes finally flicker towards the subtle mark he’s left on your skin. It’s a deep shade of purple, and something about it makes him feral— it scratches at the itch he’s had all day.

He doesn’t think he’ll be stopping anytime soon, at least.

“F-fine,” he growls. “Turn your head.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME.

Umemiya sighs when your phone buzzes again, the sound catching your attention as you scroll to check your messages again. You’re leaning back against ume's chest when you open it, letting him rest his head on your shoulder with a dramatic pout.

“He’s tryna steal you away from me,”’he whines, arms hugging tightly around your core. “S no fair.”

How you were able to reduce bofurin's strongest— the one standing at a staggering 6’2 to a needy little puppy is beyond him. But in his defense, he thinks he's been waiting for your attention for ages by now.

It seems like the second you're finally putting down your phone to turn your attention to him is the exact moment your friend decides to send yet another message, your phone buzzing from the notification— and your attention shifts back to that guy just like that.

It’s a never ending loop, and he's getting desperate.

“He’s not, Haji,” you mumble, fingers clicking at your screen. “He’s just my friend. And he’s asking to get dinner with everyone tomorrow.”

You don't notice the way his bottom lip pokes out in a pout, eyes then narrowing into a glare directed at your screen before he's pulling you a bit closer to himself, arms holding you impossibly tighter against his chest.

It really wasn’t fair.

It only takes a few more seconds of pouting before his eyes suddenly flicker to the bare skin of your neck, and he perks up when he thinks of an idea. A great idea.

“..Are you gonna go with them? Tomorrow?”

You give him a nod, and if Umemiya had a tail— it would be wagging now. His lips start to excitedly ghost over your skin, taking in the scent of your perfume, and his gaze is focused and intentional as he tries to gauge your reaction.

Nothing, so far.

So he presses an experimental kiss onto your shoulder, eyes watching you closely— and still nothing. You only perk up a bit when he finally decides to proceed with his plan and takes the skin in his mouth, sucking at it for a bit before releasing it with a lewd pop.

"Haji— d-did you just leave a mark?”

“I did.” He’s grinning now, staring at the mark he's left— and he thinks it's surprising dark for how gentle he was. It was only the first one tonight, after all.

“Want another one?”

[luvismenu]

their first time fucking —

⋆˚࿔ fuckboy!jungkook 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ extra ࣪ ִֶָ☾. written, nsfw

series m.list

♡ — permanent taglist: @https-mei @blaricee @blluee28 @jkvias @jksctrl @ari420sstuff @wnteraezz @letmekookk @whoa-jo @wobblewobble822 @jkslvsnella @clxssy1997 @nikkinikj @kayleesaltzmann @rrosiitas @naurnonope @lola75111 @somehowukook @redcherrykook @parkinglot-nights @deluluisdasolulu @minghaosimp @hyeon-yi @ririkookiemonster @svtrighthereworld @jmscaffeine @trinityxsope @taetaecatboy @butnotmontana @joyofbebbanburg @elinaki92 @sweetmimosa28

“are you sure about this?”

“yes, like i said, go slo— i told you to go slow jungkook!”

“oh fuck-”

“you ruined it!!!” you exclaim as you watch jungkook lose a game that the two of you have been playing for the last 30 minutes. well, he's the one playing and you're kind of.. helping.

you wanted to play, but he insisted he wanted to play alone because you're a 'nerd' and couldn't play as well as he could—which earned him a smack on the head from you.

“i told you, you have to wait until the monster appears,” you huff, and he slumps back into the couch.

“okay, expert, whatever,” he shrugs.

“yeah, whatever,” you roll your eyes.

jungkook relaxes into the couch, his head thrown back as he groans, “where is this mother fu—”

ding!

“i think you got a text,” you say, glancing at his phone on the small table beside the couch.

“oh, you think so?” he mocks, and you glare him.

hoseok invited you for your usual study session. normally, you both would go to the library or the café he likes, which you didn't mind. today, though, he said he wanted to study at his frat house because it would just be the two of you.

and you couldn't miss a chance like that now would you?

but when you arrived, hoseok was nowhere to be found, and it was jungkook who let you in.

what a fun way to find out that all the fuckboys live in the same house.

jungkook told you that the other members were out doing what they usually do—things you'd rather not know about.

and now, you're just waiting for hoseok to come back.

“oh... okay,” jungkook says aloud as he sets his phone aside, turning to you.

“was it him? is he coming?” you ask.

“nah, he's getting wasted with the others, probably won't be back until.. i don't know, early morning i guess?” jungkook replies, “oh and i told him you were here. he said he's sorry that he forgot and told me to tell you to go home safe.”

you sulk at his words.

he notices.

“he... forgot?” you ask, your voice dropping.

“that's what he said. if you don't believe me, you can take my phone and see his texts.”

“no, no, i mean...” you sigh. “uh sorry, i should get going then.”

you stand up, grabbing your bag. but before you can take a step forward, jungkook speaks up.

“we can play another game if you want.”

you look at him. he holds up his controller, placing the second one beside him.

“together.”

“i am tired,” he groans, throwing the controller onto the couch as he walks toward the kitchen and you follow him.

“for a fuckboy, you have less stamina,” you joke.

“i was studying the whole day—”

you raise a brow.

“i know, yeah me, studying?? woah, impossible!!” he mocks himself, then continues more seriously, “trust me, i study.”

he grabs a can of beer from the fridge and closes it. “sometimes.”

you can't help but scoff a laugh.

“you don't have to explain yourself,” you say, crossing your arms as he takes a sip of the beer before responding.

“i know, but it's you i’m talking to, so—”

“what do you mean, me?”

he tilts his head. “aren't we friends?”

“yeah?”

he smiles. “then i gotta prove that i’m not as bad as you think i am.”

“i don't—”

“you do.”

you think for a second and sigh. “i do.”

that makes both of you chuckle.

“i think i should go now, it's getting late,” you tell jungkook, glancing at the clock on the wall. you walk toward the door, and he follows you.

“thank you for the ice cream,” you say, referring to the treat you had a few minutes ago.

“it's okay, it wasn't mine anyway,” he shrugs, and you gasp.

“what the fuck, why did you let me eat it then?”

“relax! it’s hoseok's. he wouldn't mind since he literally ditched you tonight,” he says, then realizes how it sounds as he sees the change in your expression. “i didn't mean—”

“no, it's okay. he did kind of ditch me, but it doesn't really matter. i can meet him some other time.” you smile, trying to ease the awkwardness.

you're kinda rethinking about getting fucked by him anyway.

“right...” he trails off.

you both stand there for a moment, the silence stretching between you before he breaks it.

“so, i guess i'll text— mmph.” and you do it again. you cut him off just like when you first met him, but this time, the kiss lasts longer.

“w-wait,” he breathes out as he pulls back, staring at you. “you wanna fuck?”

“well, i don't know—”

“why did you kiss me then?” he asks

you look at him. why did you kiss him?

because hoseok isn't available? no.

because you're desperate? ... you're not sure.

“i don't know…” you finally say.

he opens his mouth to say something but stops.

“i just wanted to,” you add, and he's visibly surprised.

“is that wrong?” you continue, your eyes searching his.

jungkook's gaze softens. “no,” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his voice barely a whisper. “but you don't like fuckboys and also we're friends—”

“yes, but tonight's different.” you say, reaching out to tug him back towards you, “you know, like a one time thing.”

he raises an eyebrow, his voice uncertain. “so, you wanna fuck and then wake up tomorrow like nothing happened? like we didn't do anything?”

you roll your eyes. “if you keep talking, we really won't do anything.”

“okay then final question, answer this with a yes or no” he says, his tone teasingly demanding, almost childish, and it makes you scoff a laugh.

“what?”

he smirks.

“wanna fuck?”

you smirk back.

“yes.”

───────── the wall ─────────

“o-oh fuck, jungkook, yes!” you moan out, your fingers tangled in his hair. his head is buried between your thighs, which are wrapped tightly around his neck. your hips are lifted, your back pressed against the wall as he stays on his knees.

he's been tongue-fucking you for a few minutes now, and you can feel yourself reaching the edge.

“mm, you taste so sweet.” he laps at your clit, sucking the sensitive bud between his teeth before releasing it with a pop. “i could eat this pretty cunt all day long.”

without warning, you cum on his mouth, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure course through you.

he swallows it all, his tongue still working on your sensitive pussy, making you squirm and whimper from the overstimulation.

slowly, he stands up as lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. he keeps you pressed against the wall, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he looks at you as you're gasping for air, that cocky grin forming on his lips.

“you want me forreal.”

“are you kidding me? right now?” you can't believe he's saying that after you just came so hard. but maybe it’s because of the orgasm, because instead of getting annoyed, you find yourself laughing a little.

“you came so much so i—” you cut him off with a kiss, your lips crashing onto his as you taste yourself, sucking on his tongue to shut him up.

he pulls back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours.

“what's next, darling?”

───────── the floor ─────────

“t-that tickles,” you giggle when you feel jungkook softly rubbing your waist while his tongue laps at your right nipple.

“my tongue?” he asks, his eyes looking up at you as he moves to kiss your left nipple. you're both sprawled on the floor, his hands moving up and down your body as he hovers over you.

“your hands,” you gasp softly, taking in the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

“mmh,” he hums as his hands slide up, grabbing both of your breasts, squeezing them gently. you arch your back slightly when he squeezes them together, and he buries his face between them, licking and nipping at the soft flesh.

“can i suck your dick?” you say quickly, almost before thinking, and it makes jungkook pull back, looking at you in surprise. he clearly wasn’t expecting that.

“you wanna?” he asks, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“why do you look so surprised? never got your dick sucked before?” you joke, a grin forming on your lips as you see the stunned look on his face.

he rolls his eyes at you, his lips curving into a smirk. it's funny because it's usually you who’s rolling your eyes at him.

“just making sure,”

───────── the couch ─────────

“y-you're doing so good, f-fuck,” he groans, grabbing a fistful of your hair as you choke and drool on his cock. you're on your knees, gripping his thighs while he sits naked on the couch, his cock in your mouth.

his head falls back as he moans, and he bucks his hips up just slightly, pushing deeper into your throat.

he fucking loves this.

“mmfph-” you let out a muffled sound as your eyes start to water. he looks down at you, taking in the sight of you on your knees for him, your lips stretched around his length. reaching out, he wipes away a tear, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your cheek, his touch oddly tender given the situation.

“that's it, darling. you're being such a good girl,” he whispers, his voice barely above a breath but enough for you to hear. “sucking my cock and looking at me like that... you look so fucking pretty.”

you pull back just slightly, taking a quick breath before diving right back in. your head bobs up and down, your tongue gliding along the underside of his cock, taking him as deep as you can. each time you do, he lets out a low groan, his abs tightening.

“oh fuck, i'm close,” he grunts, his grip on your hair loosening and you pull back.

“can i-” he starts to ask, but you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out, and he curses under his breath.

he strokes himself a few times, his breath hitching, and then he releases, hot ropes of cum spilling onto your tongue. you keep your mouth open, letting him see before swallowing it all, licking him clean until there's nothing left. once you're done, you pull away, giving him a proud smile.

he chuckles, shaking his head slightly, clearly amused by your behavior.

“you're not what i expected,”

───────── bed ─────────

“did you fuck anyone here before?” you ask as you look at jungkook between your legs. your thighs are wrapped around his waist, and your back pressed against the softness of his bed.

“no,” he says simply as he reaches over to grab a condom. “i don't bring girls here.”

“why not?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“because i'm never alone,” he explains, tearing the packet open with ease.

“but we're alone right now,” you point out, watching every one of his movements.

“i was supposed to go out with hoseok and the others, but i was tired, remember? so i stayed in. and honestly, i'm glad i did that.” he rolls the condom onto his length.

you smack his shoulder playfully, and he lets out a soft chuckle.

“now, are you really sure about this?” he asks, his hands gently gripping your hips, holding you steady.

“for the tenth time, yes, i am,” you respond, “like i said, it’s a one-time thing,” you remind him.

he gives a small nod, then grabs his cock, rubbing the tip along your wet folds, making you whimper at the feeling.

“just fucking put it in,” you breathe out,

he grins, leaning down just a bit closer. “say please, darling,”

“if you think i’m gonna beg for it, think again,” you say, your eyes narrowing at him.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “so bossy,” he mutters, and then, without further delay, he pushes his cock into you.

“f-fuck..” you bite down on your lower lip, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel him stretching you. the fullness is almost overwhelming, but there's a hint of pleasure there, building slowly.

he pauses for a moment, his gaze searching your face. “you okay, darling?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

“y-yeah,” you manage to say, breathing heavily. “it feels... bigger than i expected,” you admit, your cheeks flushing slightly.

his grin widens at that, and he starts to move, thrusting in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm. normally, you'd have some sassy comeback for that look on his face, but right now, it feels too good to say anything at all.

no wonder women love him.

you came once.

“fuck— nngh y-yes!!” you cry out, the pleasure overwhelming as your body trembles around him.

“oh my go— i am— fuck!” jungkook moans, his head falling back onto the pillow as you ride him, your hips bouncing on his cock.

twice.

“you like that, hm? you like getting your pussy fucked from behind?” his voice is a growl as he grips your ass, pounding into you relentlessly. you’re on all fours, your moans mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin. tears well up at the edges of your eyes, the pleasure bordering on too much, but you don’t want him to stop.

make it a third time.

“fuck..”

jungkook groans as he collapses onto the bed, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath, his eyes closed. exhaustion drips from his voice as he mumbles, “you’re such a freak.”

you sit beside him, still naked, your fingers lightly tracing patterns over his chest. “one more round?” you suggest, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “yeah, right.”

you tilt your head, raising a brow at him, your expression almost challenging.

his eyes widen just a bit. “oh, you’re serious?” he asks, genuinely surprised.

you nod, shrugging slightly. “how are you not tired?” he breathes out, his voice laced with disbelief.

“i can take some more, i guess,” you say casually, though the glint in your eyes betrays your eagerness.

“i am sorry to disappoint, darling, but i think i am done for tonight.” he lets out a tired sigh, and he sees you pout.

“woah,” he murmurs, watching the way your lips form into a cute little pout. it’s endearing. he’s seen so many sides of you tonight—and now... this.

cute and.. whiny?

“pleaseee, jungkook, one more time!!” you whine, your voice soft and pleading, making his heart skip a beat.

he blinks, like he’s just seeing a new part of you, something he never expected. maybe it’s the endorphins, or just the moment—whatever it is, this side of you is cute, almost innocent in your need.

he likes it.

“how about this,” he says, a grin forming on his lips, “we take a shower, and maybe we can go for another round there, hm?”

“shower sex?” you ask.

he nods.

“no, it’s unsafe,” you respond immediately, shaking your head.

he sighs dramatically, his grin widening. “well then, no more sex for tonight,” he says, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “maybe some other night.”

you roll your eyes, huffing. “you wish”

he chuckles, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you close.

“i do.”

a/n: i hope it's not too confusing 😣

[bunny-jpeg]

how can i take your order? all you have to do is pick a dessert, drink and driver/character of your choosing! are you in the mood for a mille-feuille or a big slice of chocolate cake! please, please, please indicate who you want me to write about!!

the servers are from the following: formula one, call of duty, baldur's gate 3, haikyuu, one piece, jujustu kaisen, detective comics (dc), marvel comics (but i am open to any other fandoms you might have in mind! please do not hesitate to ask!!)

i do also accept polyam relationships! (pairing + reader), up to about four people! just to make it manageable on my end!

all orders can be made to the inbox for @bunny-jpeg and i'll get your order together asap! also let me know if you want it extra sweet or a little more spicy !

mille-feuille: “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

butter tart: "let's ruin ourselves for anyone else."

sugar pie: “gonna let daddy hear ya?”

zebra cake: "well, what do we have here?"

carrot cake: "swallow it. all of it."

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family."

pots de crème: "if a picture is worth a thousand words, then i could probably get a million dollars for this photo."

oat flapjacks: "i'm not scared of you."

persian rolls: "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat."

spice pie: "i didn't know it was possible to be a liar and a slut."

mushroom pie: "if you don't shut up. i'm going to shut you up."

lemon slice: "i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making."

swiss roll: "everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you."

pumpkin pie: "i've met strays who were more obedient."

pastry braid: "your job is to make me cum. now get to work."

sausage roll: "i wonder how much i could get for photos of this cunt."

pithivier: "if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you."

tiramisu: “my little slut to ruin.”

sponge toffee: "aw, is someone mad that they can only cum because of me?"

pull-apart bread: "i love you"

powered sugar donuts: "marry me."

blueberry bars: “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.”

pudding chomeur: "i don't share."

ice cream bars: “did you see the way he was eyeing you? he need to know you're mine."

chocolate cake: "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day."

soufflé: "i'll be gentle."

fried dough: "i know virginity is a stupid concept... but i want to take yours."

apple pie: "now be good and beg. thank you."

vanilla cheesecake: "where are your manners?"

berry trifle: "wrong. try again."

maple cream pie: "either you wear the necklace with my name on it, or wear my bruises around your neck."

s'more: "The accent gets to you, doesn't it?"

belgian waffles: "i cum in that every night."

pancakes: "if you bite me. i'll bite you back."

loaf of whole wheat bread: "you're going to shut that mouth and take me."

jos louis: "does someone need a daddy?"

maple taffy: "oh my god you're stupid."

snowballs: "don't worry, drug tests aren't till next week."

shortbread cookies: "and who does this belong to?"

flan: "i'm not possessive... i'm obsessive."

peach cake: "if you spill a drop, we start all over."

angel food cake: "if he fucks with me again, i'm finishing inside of you."

red velvet cupcake: "if you don't like being called a whore, then stop acting like one."

mince pie: "i'm not jealous."

banana bread: "i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name."

crumb cake: "if you just listened, all of this could've been avoided."

chocolate chip cookies: "you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat"

nanaimo bars: "who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it."

coffee cake: "knees. now."

sourdough bread: "i'm going to breed you."

blueberry muffins: "i don't think it'll fit."

pound cake with strawberries: "you know i hate going over rules, but just because i like seeing you embarrassed, i'll tell you them again."

croissant: "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

crepe: "pretty girl."

french toast: "you're trying to make me jealous!"

churros: "if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full. okay?"

shortbread squares: "you're just mad that that my cock fits perfectly in you now. must be a blow to the ego that we're a perfect match."

savory pastry: "let your brother find out."

sweet pastry: "i'll make it all better."

eclairs: "the family's precious little girl. under me like a slut."

boston cream pie: "yeah, i'll use protection."

bagel: “gonna paint you with my teeth.”

crostata: “stupid slut, this is what you wanted huh? wanted me to fuck you like i hate you.”

tres leches: "i wonder if your brother know i cum in you."

peanut butter bars: “scratch me, bite me, just mark me sweetheart. show them I’m yours.”

eton mess: "be careful. your breath smells like cum."

scones: "but what if they see us!"

english muffin: "aw, is someone crying?"

honey cruller: "i forget how small you are sometimes."

banana split: "don't look at me like that."

beer brownies: "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog."

fudge: "your father is pissing me off."

sticky toffee pudding: "the only way this is ending is you getting pregnant."

hot cross buns: "don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up."

brownies: "you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours."

chocolate mousse: "the only necklace you need is my hand around your throat"

tim bits: "stupid little thing."

fruitcake: "i'll make tonight special."

cornmeal muffin: "i need you most."

devil's food cake: "you're my most unhealthy obsession."

crème caramel: "oh. you thought you were getting away from me?"

banana & chocolate muffins: "i'm only doing this because you need to learn how to behave, rules are rules, and you need to follow them."

custard tart: "i've never done this before."

cinnamon rolls: "no one needs to know."

mango sorbet: "you are by far the dumbest thing i've ever fucked. how did they even let you graduate?"

date squares: "you look better with my marks on you."

figgy duff: "if i buy it, will you stop pouting?"

spicy upside down cake: "let's play a game: don't get caught."

cream puffs: "let me finish inside."

profiteroles: "come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go."

with a side of:

coffee: rivals

tea: semi-public/public sex

juice: cockwarming

mocha coffee: breeding kink

bubble tea: daddy kink

a vodka shot: rough sex

sparkling water: gentle sex

coconut water: alternate universe

energy drink: doggy style

champagne: sugar daddy situation

hard lemonade: possessive behaviour

espresso shot: dirty talking

a glass of wine: cowgirl position

ice capp coffee: werewolf au

bloody mary: vampire au

martini: mafia au

frozen latte: dumbification

frozen lemonade: consensual non-consent

cranberry juice: mean!character

glass of water: aftercare

chocolate milk: tenderness

milkshake: size kink

pina colada: pregnancy

cider: body worship

mai tai: loss of virginity

margarita: unprotected sex

mint julep: punishments

chai: biting/hickies

earl grey: big cock

fishbowl cocktail: protected sex

tonic water: age gap

matcha latte: collars/bondage

root beer: filming/recording

soda: jealousy

americano: oral sex

whisky: degrading language

vitamin water: dom/sub dynamic

irish coffee: high sex

sangria: drunk sex

dark roast coffee: sub!character

dark hot chocolate: sub!reader

iced tea: accidentally launching relationship

lemon water: university/college au

naked & famous: bimbo/ditzy!reader

on the house: author's choice!

ORDER UP!

[katsukikitten]

Togame Jo has always been in the back of your mind and maybe that's why you accidentally text him instead of your best friend, otherwise why else would he show up to your house so late in the evening? inspired by @kingkatsuki adding onto a general "diary entry" to my blog .

A good finger fucking until I cry would fix me

A random thought you text to your friend before you toss your phone on your nightstand, groaning into your pillow with disgust over how horny you were over nothing at all.

It was just ovulation week of course, leaving you weepy and wet at your lashes and between your thighs. Dolphin shorts riding up as you reach for a shirt on the ground that you've stolen from your crush. The last time you'd seen him you'd gotten caught in the rain coincidentally near his apartment and so he invited you in until the storm passed, your clothes dried and neatly folded placed into a bag as he walked you to the train stop while you wore his shirt and sweats. You promised you'd return it nice and clean.

You both knew that was a lie.

Dressing quickly so you could finish cleaning up your apartment before dinner, take out on its way in about a half an hour and you needed to find your cash stash to tip the poor man when he got here.

Washing dishes, taking out trash, sweeping and even picking up your living room that was neglected through the week all before the doorbell rings.

Smiling as you go to open the door, ten in your hand, as you hum happily thinking about your favorite oversized meal. Except when you swing the door open the delivery man isn't there.

It's Togame, your crush.

He stands tall even as he hunches a little. Plastic bag of your delivery on the wrist of the hand in his pocket while the other idly scrolls his phone. Yours pings, the delivery driver sending a picture of the hand off, to Togame, and kind message thanking you for the large tip.

He looks up at you, just over the rim of his circular glasses that sit on the edge of his nose.

"Ya always answer the door like that, sweetheart?" He asks locking his phone as he looks you up and down, deep emerald gaze noticing his old band shirt that swallows your body. He isn't sure you're wearing anything underneath, he smiles and runs his hand through his hair to his undercut before he's pushing his way past you. Entering your apartment as if it were second nature and not his first time here.

Stopping in the genkan to shove off his geta that match his dark cotton samue paired with his flashy Shishitoren letterman jacket. Walking to the living room to set down the takeout on the kotatsu before the rummages through your cabinets for plates.

"Togame?"

"Yea?"

"What are you doing here?" With how comfortable he makes himself in your home, you almost forgot you barely know him and that you're dressed in a shirt you never returned, pulling down the hem a bit more since your shorts hardly cover your ass.

"M here to 'fix ya.'" He tilts his head at you, wondering why you're lingering by your entry way, "Like ya asked."

"Like I asked?" A cold sweat breaks out over your skin, prickling at the nape of your neck.

"Yea, wouldn't want you texting anyone else your problems sweetheart. Least not ones like that." He sets the two plates and two sets of utensils down on the counter while he opens the fridge. Delighted to find a beer bottle that he opens with his teeth, before bringing one of the glass bottles to his lips for a sip. Grabbing for the plates and returning to the living room to settle in. Tossing his glasses and jacket onto your bed that lies a few feet from the kotatsu looking over his shoulder while he makes your plate.

"Ya coming?"

"Togame...I-" You let out a shaky breath, there's no way you texted the wrong person. You texted your friend your born again virgin woes, right?

Right??!!!

"Shy now?" He chuckles, pulling out his phone, holding it up so you can see the message that he received and sure enough it reads, a good finger fucking would fix me.

"THAT-" You bap at his phone knocking it from his hands as if that could make him unsee it, make him forget all about your lewd request, "That was NOT meant for you."

"Oh?" His jade eyes are cat like, narrowing for a moment in an emotion you can't place, "Who was it meant for? Surely not someone from Bofurin."

He takes another swig from his bottle, long fingers around the neck that he tightens over the thought. He knew no one from Bofurin could please you the way Togame knew he could, especially not that one with headphones and suckers.

Togame would much rather you be sweet on Sako, least then he was a Shishitoren.

"It was meant for a friend! It was like- like a joke between girls." Your confession shouldn't make his cock twitch in his pants, he palms at it and doesn't bother to be subtle.

"Girls always talk so lewdly to each other?" Silence stretches on between you two before he cracks a devilish smile, patting at the spot next to him, "Come on, gotta get some food in ya."

With your heart beating on your ribcage you slowly sink down next to Togame, who puts on a movie the two of you would enjoy while you eat your meal. Splitting with him what was supposed to be your dinner tonight and lunch tomorrow.

It's comfortable, the silence and occasional comments on the flick takes some odd plot twist and for a moment you forget why exactly he showed up at your door.

Right up until the credits, where you try to rise with a "welp" as if to show him away.

But Togame wasn't going anywhere, crowding your space with little effort and it's only now you realize you practically sat on top of him. He didn't let you get up and there's no way you can escape now as his mouth hovers so closely to yours.

"Now," he purrs, hand moving to cup your mouth, long fingers digging into the fabric to touch your already wet hole, "lemme help you with your problem."

Roughly pressing his fingers into your cunt and swiping up to your clit in slow strokes and it makes you gasp. Fisting the navy blue fabric of his samue when he presses his mouth to yours. Kissing you with a mixture of rough and soft that leaves you a little dizzy. Domineering in a way you'd forgotten you liked, gasping against his mouth giving him entrance for his tongue to slip in. Slow swipes as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss even more all while he keeps that slow rough drag of his finger tips. Until he hears the squelch of your cunt and feels your arousal soaking through your shorts only then does he pull away as you whine.

Hooking his fingers into the waist band of your shorts and yanking them down and off of your ankles, pushing you to lean back against your bed frame as he crowds further. Palm on your pretty mound as his fingers repeat the same action, catching on your entrance that starts to flutter with each circle of your clit back down to your perineum. He watches your face, watches your hips twitch as you arch your back for him, your hands fisting the hem of the fabric at your waist.

Togame brings his free hand to shove his shirt over the mounds of your breasts, exposing your already hard nipples to the cool air of your apartment. Leaning over to lick a broad stripe making you clench around nothing as a shiver runs down your spine. He does it a few more times before he's pulling your nipple into his mouth. Shoving his two thick fingers into your tight cunt with enough force it makes your tits bounce and you moan loudly.

Swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud before flicking it in time with his thumb that now circles your clit. Adjusting his hands so that his fingers can touch that sweet spot and his thumb can rock against your clit with each thrust of his hand.

In just a few short strokes you're starting to see stars.

"Oh fuck oh fuck. Togame, fuck ahh." You sound better than what he's imagined when he fisted his cock to the thought of you. Your name on his tongue makes his cock ache painfully in his boxer briefs, begging to be touched but that could wait.

Biting at the soft tops of your tits, leaving hickies that you'll be finding for weeks as your head jerks back. Coil in your stomach so tight you think you might snap in half.

"Togame, don't stop, fuck, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum!" You sound whiny like you always do and Togame loves the sound. Lives for it and it's why he's always teasing you when you stop by Shishitoren to give the gang a lecture about not trashing the bar you work out.

It always fell on deaf ears that is until Togame made his men listen but he didn't want to think about all that right now.

He just wanted to burn the way you look creaming his fingers into his memory. Moving off your nipple with a lewd pop and silvery string that connects the two of you that he breaks with a swirl of his tongue. Looking down to see how you soak the floor and his fingers making him press into you a little harder.

"Then cum sweetheart. It's why I'm here remember?" With that you reach ecstasy, bucking your hips into his thrusting fingers with a loud moan of his name and tears collecting in your eyes, holding his gaze and if Togame wasn't in love with you before he sure as hell was now.

Watching you pant as he slows his pace just enough for you to catch your breath but let you ride out your high, loving how your cunt flutters around his fingers, trying to pull his digits back in that he steadily rocks into you.

Your manicured hands reach for his waist band, eyes trained on the outline of his long, fat cock.

"Please, 'gami." You whine, pulling at the fabric as his free hand gently pushes yours away. Green eyes tracking over pretty skin he's littered with bruises, kind replaying the way you cried out his name as he feels drool collect at the back of his throat. Pulling his fingers out until just the tips were hidden within your velveteen walls before he pushes the saliva to the tip of his tongue. Pulling his lips away from his teeth to push the spit from the wet muscle right onto your clit, not that you needed the extra lube. Messily rubbing it against the sensitive bud making you cum again with a cry and a biting grip on his forearm.

"No, no sweetheart. This is about you right now." He hums, eyes dark and trained on your face before he sets another relentless pace. Until you're slumping over and jerking back. Crying out his name over and over as fat tears fall past those pretty lashes Togame loves seeing you bat up at him when you want your way.

So into what he's doing to you he doesn't realize his boxers have become sticky until he shifts closer to you. Clinging to his skin too much for it to be only pre, turned on even more that you made him cum his fuckin pants from just your sights and sounds. Even your smell, sweet and sticking in the back of his throat making him insatiable.

"Fuck, lissen to how your cunt soundsssss." He growls, making emphases by pushing you beyond your limit so he can hear the clicking slick and cry of your cunt sucking his fingers back in when he pulls them out.

He doesn't stop until his fingers are pruned and cramping in your cunt that has been spasming non stop for the past five minutes, your throat sounds dry from your moaning and selfishly he thinks he could spit onto your tongue to help you alleviate your pain.

Looking up to see your debauched face, brows furrowed, lip pouting and tears of beyond overstimulation that makes him ease you down into slow ruts til his fingers are just in you. Half smothering you as he crowds your space, slowly pulling out his fingers and lightly tapping your clit as he leaves your glistening folds making you yelp.

Lips at your throat, leaving soft nips and nosing at your racing pulse, "Deep breath."

His voice is soft and it makes you dizzy, slowly pulling in breath until you feel a little more clear headed. Clinging to him slightly and he pulls you closer halfway on his lap so you can curl into his throat. Breathe in his cologne and hopefully think about him as much as he thinks about you.

Little does he know...

"Hmm, but you didn't get to have any fun." You pout, now real tears collecting in your eyes that have him chuckling again. Pressing his lips gently to yours before pulling himself away from you reluctantly.

"Oh I did." He presses his sensitive spent cock roughly through his pants until you can hear a muted squelch.

Suddenly there are hearts in your eyes, looking up at him and pushing him onto his back. Pulling his pants down until they sit midway on his hairy thighs, leaning over to lick the spent cum from his soft cock and if you weren't careful would quickly get hard. Your hand placed firmly on his sternum to keep him from getting up as your tongue travels to his heavy sac.

Togame just lies back, staring up at your ceiling, hand coming to circle yours until he's "clean" wishing you had texted him by accident months ago.

[that-one-p00k1e]

─────〃★ for you, I wouldೃ⁀➷˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚

✧ summary: things they would do for you ft. Ren Kaji, Hajime Umemiya, Haruka Sakura, Hayato Suo, Jo Togame, Mitsuki Kiryu, Akihiko Nirei, Tasuku Tsubakino, Toma Hiragi, Yamato Endo, Chika Takiishi

✧ content: fluff, gn!reader (I think), OOC most likely, established!relationship, not proofread I'm sorry, tsubakino's pronouns are confirmed he/him ✦ a/n: HAAAAPPPYYYYY NNNNNEEEWWW YYYYEEAAARRR BBBBIITTCHHESSSSS😝😝😝😝 six months since I last posted omg-! I'm still alive! 😍 tysm for the support while I'm gone ily'all <33

—REN KAJI would turn off his music and pull down his headphones to listen to you ramble. Though he had his attention to his phone, he'd give silent nods and hums here and there to let you know that he was listening. Occasionally, he'd throw in little comments and questions regarding the topic you were telling. Little to your knowledge, your rambles to him were like taking notes. He'd mentally highlight things that he thought were important, and would keep it in mind in the future. He's the type to look nonchalant, but deep down, he cares more than he lets on. “... What's wrong?” he asked as he heard you abruptly stop talking. “Forget it.. You're not even listening.” You looked away in disappointment, letting out a quiet sigh. “But I have been listening,” he tried to reassure, feeling slightly guilty for making you feel neglected. “Really? Then repeat all the things I've been saying.” He, in fact, did repeat most things you've mentioned and justified his word.

—HAJIME UMEMIYA would gift you random bouquets every week, as if he hasn't gifted you enough already. What's special about his bouquets is that you can never guess the theme for the week. First, he started off classic – flowers, with the consideration of them being fake so that you'd be able to keep them forever. Then, he brought you a bouquet of snacks and sweets that he knew were your favorite. Next thing you knew, he's giving you a bouquet of money he's been secretly saving up on. You felt guilty; guilty for the effort he's been putting, just for you to return it with some unprofessional homemade baked goods. It felt unfair. But does he sail on the same boat? No. He's going to reassure you that he expects nothing in return, and that you being there for him and loving him was what all he ever wanted and needed.

—HARUKA SAKURA would spend his free time struggling to assemble a Lego flower bouquet set after learning about White Day. He wanted to return your gesture of gifting him during Valentine's, despite himself denying such intention. It took a lot of effort, in both figuring out what to get while fearing you wouldn't like it –to the point that he would even call over Nirei and Suo for help – and in building the tiny pieces of bricks after settling on a final decision for the gift. He persisted to build it himself, no matter how much his friends offered to help. He wanted to make sure it was his work purely, done with his own hands. The whole process was frustrating, infuriating, and was basically a test of patience. But after seeing how you kept the received bouquet in a glass vase – delicately treasuring it on your bedroom display – he has never felt so proud yet flustered his whole life.

—HAYATO SUO would waltz into the café without a care in the world while having scattered lipstick stains decorating his face. Moreover, it wasn't your idea in the first place– it was his. Your relationship wasn't out yet, and he thought, what better way to publish it than announcing it wordlessly but gives double the impact? “Hm? Oh, this? It's my beloved’s artwork. Do you like it?” he'll innocently ask when someone questions the visible lip prints. Sakura was a blushing mess, and Suo was very much enjoying the look of bewilderment from others as they received the unspoken news. This was the reaction he wanted. This was what boosted his pride furthermore in being your boyfriend, and he'd shamelessly do it again to show off his love for you to the world.

—JO TOGAME would be your personal walking object holder. He'd take your bag and sling it over his shoulder with you needless to say; he'd keep hair bands around his wrist in case you decided to tie your hair up; he'd hold your shopping bags throughout your journey at the mall. Never were you the one to request his aid first, and never has he complained about being tired. He'd even go barefoot just to lend you his footwear when your feet start to hurt in heels. Moreover, he'd carry you bridal along the way. Despite you worrying over him tiring himself, he persisted to keep ahold of you. He loves seeing you enjoy life without a care in the world, and he'd do anything to carry burdens that dare to get in the way of that enjoyment.

—MITSUKI KIRYU would deliberately lose in a game of UNO and let you take the victory when he could've won decades ago. The whole time the both of you were playing, he's been holding a Wild and Draw 4 but refrained from using them. Instead, he kept drawing cards and just went yolo to buy time. Though he always played fair, seeing your dejected expression after losing many rounds this time was a little too unbearable for him. He promised himself for once, just this once will he let himself take a loss. He knew it wouldn't be fair, but if it meant that he'll get to see you smile in victory, then he doesn't find any problem with that.

—AKIHIKO NIREI would write down even the littlest of details about you that were thrown at him. You'd be casually mentioning a trivial preference as a ramble, but never had he pulled out his notebook and pen so quickly. During his early stages of getting to know you, he made sure to memorize everything you told him about yourself; your favorite color, favorite food, dream place to go, he even looked up your zodiac sign after knowing your birth date. He doesn't mean it in a creepy way. In fact, it was his way to know how to get closer to you. Despite already having the skill to remember it all, he likes to write it down to make sure as well as for keepsake. Thanks to that, now he has a cheat sheet on how to make you smile.

—TASUKU TSUBAKINO would wear himself a nail polish color that reminds him of you. Or, moreover, your favorite color. He loved being stylish, and what better way to do it than having at least a part of you involved in it? He'd walk proudly in his heels that you got him as a gift, and was even more ecstatic if someone complimented them, proud that your taste in fashion was appreciated by others. He'd ask to trade manicures with you for a date, where the both of you choose a nail look for each other. But if you weren't into painting nails, he'll ask you to choose a look for him instead. On special or fancy occasions, he'd often wear your fav lip combo or makeup look, as he treasures your choices and views them as something precious and only to be used when necessary.

—TOMA HIRAGI would pull up to the function wearing either a Hello Kitty or Kuromi tee under his gakuran jacket. Was it his personal choice to do it? Clearly not. Was it his choice to willingly wear it for the sake of his beloved significant other? Very much so. After many attempts of pleading, he caved in and (begrudgingly) agreed to your whole ‘matching outfits’ idea. He ate a pill or two when he saw how he looked in the mirror. Then ate two more when he finally appeared in public, especially at how much Umemiya and the others teased him for it. It was embarrassing, but was it worth it? No questions needed. The beaming smile you immediately wore when seeing him agree to your shenanigans, was enough proof that it was all – undoubtedly – worth it.

—YAMATO ENDO would revel in the feeling of being the center of your attention as you placed stickers and colored in his tattoos or drew silly doodles along his body. He liked the feeling of flexing himself while having you express your inner artist onto him. He'd think of himself as your muse; the art and the artist. Once you were done, he'd be extremely careful with doing activities, afraid of your artwork smudging off at the slightest touch. Even during the shower, he makes sure not to wipe it with full pressure. He considered turning it into an actual tattoo, really. Because it would mean that he'd get to keep something of yours to be a part of him, eternally.

—CHIKA TAKIISHI would let you do his hair as you please. He was one to outright reject the idea of someone touching him, but you – you had the privilege to do as you please to him without him raising a finger to stop you. You had him wrapped around your delicate fingers, his head leaning into your touch as you smoothly ran your hands through his long locks of red that met its ends with yellow. When he saw that you did your hair the same way as his, a flicker of surprise reflected on his eyes. Though he tried to come off as indifferent, he was secretly pleased to acknowledge the fact that the both of you were matching. He'd spend the whole day with you while wearing those matching hairstyles, not caring about how others would think of him. All he could focus on was how ethereal you looked in your current look. In fact, he always thought you looked beautiful in any shape and form of physical aspects.

[kaiser1ns]

#. HUG ME ? BRING IT IN !

featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. kaji ren, takiishi chika, togame jo, umemiya hajime, endo yamato

fluff. you were supposed to give all of your attention to him, rather than hugging the cute stuffed toy.

KAJI REN

Before getting a boyfriend, you had no problem falling asleep alone. It was you, the blanket, and the cute stuffed plushie who kept you company. But after you started dating and having sleepovers with Kaji Ren, you realized how you couldn't sleep without hugging something. First, it was one plushie, then two, then three, and you begged for a fourth, a fifth—the saga never-ending. Most were gifts from him, and that's why you held them so close to your heart, hugging them when you couldn't hug your boyfriend.

It was early afternoon when Kaji decided to stop by your place just to see you. Your mother greeted him, telling him you were in your room. When he reached your safe haven, he was left dumbfounded. There you were, hugging that damn pink bunny. Its left triangle eyebrow was thick while the right was thin—he hated it. It was like the plushie was mocking him, telling him it got you first.

Kaji frowned, clicking his tongue as he removed his headphones, placing them on the desk where your pictures were framed and … Why do you have a picture with the stuffed toy?

If you weren't asleep right now, you'd laugh at him for being so silly, but also so cute with his dark gray eyes intensely watching the plushie, and his pouty lips just waiting to be kissed. Acting on impulse once again, Kaji removed the pink bunny from your arms, threw it on the ground, and left your arms empty. He watched you breathe calmly, your chest rising and falling.

When he bent down to lay next to you, you snapped your eyes open and screamed, making him flinch and fall out of the bed, landing next to the plushie that seemed to mock him once more.

"Ren?" you said, sleepily peering over the edge of the bed.

He groaned, sitting up and glaring at the pink bunny. "Why do you always choose this thing over me?" You laughed softly, reaching out to help him up. "I didn't choose it over you. It's just... sometimes I need something to cuddle with when you're not here."

He sighed, sitting on the bed and pulling you into his arms. You smiled, resting your head on his chest. This time he needed something to hug to make him calm down. Nothing could get in the way of this moment, so peaceful and beautiful, with no worries, just him and you.

“I also ordered new plushies.” He thinks you should have stayed asleep because if he hears the word plushie one more time, he will go crazy. "For us to match when you can't fall asleep when I'm not with you.” That was, his breaking point, but it's okay because he is crazy in love with you despite your plushie obsession, but he won't tell you how much money he spent on limited edition stuffed toys for your upcoming birthday. Some things are better kept hidden, but a soft smile made its way visible on his face, betraying the mask of his annoyance.

TAKIISHI CHIKA

It was getting late and you still waited for your boyfriend to visit, after he said he would, but he probably got in another fight to pass the time. You loved him but sometimes you thought he loved fights more than you, in some way he did, but that didn't stop when Takiishi fought his way to you with the many plushies you owned when he got to your apartment and saw you asleep on the couch, hugging the stuffed lion plushie.

He remembered how you couldn’t stop looking at the stand with stuffed toys at the fair, and how, after much begging, he won it for you. You had laughed and said it looked just like him — your mini Takiishi. The big and fierce predator is just one little cute kitten. But there could only be one Takiishi Chika in your life.

He wishes he was as soft and squishy as it, hinting that he wants more physical affection. Since you started dating, he found himself wanting to be closer to you, to feel your warmth, and to know that you were always by his side. It was a vulnerability he wasn't used to, and it often led him to seek extra hugs and kisses for reassurance.

As if sensing his thoughts, you stirred awake, blinking sleepily up at him. A soft smile spread across your face, and you reached out for him with one hand, the other still holding onto the toy. "Baby, you are here." Your voice was a soothing melody in the quiet room.

Chika reached down, his larger hand gently pulling you up. The toy slipped from your grasp as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, hugging him just as you had hugged the stuffed lion moments before. Your fingers tangled in his long hair, and he couldn't help but sigh, feeling your warmth against him.

"You were hugging that thing," he murmured, in a calm soothing voice, though the jealousy was still there. You chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to his neck. "Well, it reminds me of you. But nothing compares to the real deal." Your words were a balm to his insecurities, and he held you tighter, burying his face in your hair.

"Is that so?" he asked, his breath warm against your ear. You nodded, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes, his hands holding your legs more firmly.

"Absolutely. The plushie is cute, but it can't hold me like you do." You smiled, tracing your fingers along his jawline. He relaxed, but at the same time wanted to pull away from the affection. You laughed softly, leaning in to capture his lips in a gentle kiss. "Just so you know, you're my favorite."

But instead he pulled you into a deeper embrace, you felt the tension in his muscles ease. You knew he’d fight the world to be with you, but right now, all he needed was the reassurance of your love. And you were more than happy to give it to him.

TOGAME JO

Togame was enjoying his time listening to you tell the latest gossip as you moved around the room, his eyes following your every step. He sat on the edge of your bed, a tender smile playing on his lips as you recounted the latest drama among your friends. In your hands, you clutched a cute turtle plushie, and the sight of you so animated and engaged made his heart swell.

"And then you won't believe what she said, Kame-chan!" you exclaimed, pulling the plushie close to your face as if it could somehow share in your excitement.

Togame’s smile widened, and he couldn’t resist answering, his voice soft yet teasing. "What did she say, love?"

You froze, a look of confusion crossing your features as you turned to face him. "Wait, I thought you left?" you asked, your brow furrowing slightly as you tried to recall when you last saw him heading out for some business.

His eyes twinkled as he leaned back slightly, making himself more comfortable on the bed. "Why would I?" he responded, feigning innocence. His gaze flickered to the plushie in your hands, and he chuckled softly. "Besides, how could I miss out on hearing what she said?"

Your eyes widened as you realized what had happened. "Oh my gosh, you heard that?" A blush crept up your cheeks, and you hugged the plushie tighter, as if it could somehow shield you from the embarrassment.

Togame stood up and walked over to you, gently taking the turtle plushie from your hands and examining it with a mock-serious expression. "So, this is Kame-chan, huh? You named him after me?"

You nodded shyly, face in your hands to hide your red face. "I thought it was cute."

He chuckled, placing the plushie back into your hands before pulling you by the waist sitting on the bed again, as he sat you on his lap, wrapping his arms around your body. "I'm flattered, really," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "But you know, the real Togame is right here, and he loves you just as much as Kame-chan does."

UMEMIYA HAJIME

You clutch the Cinnamoroll plushie tightly, its soft fur pressing against your cheek as you glance at Umemiya. The plushie, a recent gift from him, has quickly become your favorite, and you can't stop talking about how much it reminds you of him. The white hair, the blue eyes, the insatiable appetite, and that pure-hearted nature—Cinnamoroll is practically Umemiya's spirit animal. Every time you hug it, you feel a rush of warmth, as if you're holding a little piece of him close to your heart.

"Isn't it just the cutest?" you gush for the umpteenth time, eyes shining with joy. "It's just like you, Hajime! Always happy, always there when someone needs you. If you were an animal, you'd definitely be a puppy, just like Cinnamoroll."

Umemiya gives you a small smile, but there's something behind it, a hint of something you can't quite place. As the day goes on, you notice he seems quieter than usual. You catch him glancing at you and the plushie with a look that almost seems…jealous? It was rare to see him looking anything other than cheerful, and it tugged at your heartstrings.

Finally, during a quiet moment on your date, you catch him pouting slightly. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you ask, "Hajime, what's wrong? You've been a bit off today."

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, looking slightly embarrassed. "It's just…you've been hugging that plushie all day, and I haven't gotten a single hug."

You blink in surprise, then burst into laughter, feeling a bit guilty. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize." Setting Cinnamoroll down gently, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. "You know you're the best, right? Not even the cutest plushie could ever replace you."

He relaxes into your embrace, a contented smile spreading across his face. "I guess I can share you with Cinnamoroll," he murmurs, hugging you back even tighter. You chuckle softly, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "As long as I still get my daily doze of your love."

ENDO YAMATO

The night was perfect for a cozy movie date, as you had planned it for weeks, and now you were finally together, nestled on the couch. "Face mask time!" you announced with a playful grin, holding up two colorful packets. Endo raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest, instead he just smiled with that charming smile of his and leaned back, letting you apply the mask on his face. You took your time, smoothing the cool gel over his skin, "Mmm, it feels nice." he murmured, eyes closed in relaxation.

As the movie continued, you snuggled up with your favorite dinosaur plushie, he, however, didn't like the fact that you hadn't snuggled into him. With a quick move, he grabbed the plushie out of your arms and got up. "Yamato!" you protested, pouting playfully, as the tattooed boy held the plushie high above his head, his height giving him an unfair advantage. But you were smarter, as you stepped on his foot, gently without as much power, catching him off guard. He wobbled, just enough for you to grab your plushie back.

He chuckled, pulling you close again. "Alright, alright, you win," he said, his voice warm and teasing. You nestled back into his side, plushie securely in your arms, feeling his arm wrap around you protectively. "Thought you would have made me go extinct like this little guy with that stomp of yours." he teased, as you rested your head against his shoulder. "I guess you'll have to share me with the dino."

Endo sighed dramatically, but his eyes were soft as he looked at you, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. "As long as I get most of the snuggles~"

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[todayisafridaynight]

:)

[mrsfancyferrari]

Hey author,

Loved your work! I have a request for a Max Verstappen fiction. Here's the idea:

Max Verstappen and the Reader have been friends since childhood and started dating when they were 15. The Reader is currently the number one ranked tennis player, with 2 Wimbledon titles, 3 French Open titles, and 2 Australian Open titles to her name. She is the best in women's singles and doubles tennis at the moment.

The Reader is a badass, known for her fiery press conferences and domination on the court, much like how Max is in racing. Despite being a power couple in front of the world, they are very vulnerable and weak for each other. They know the struggles both have been through—she understands the impact Max's childhood and his father, Jos, have had on him, and he knows the challenges she faces, including attacks and pressures from the media.

They are incredibly supportive of each other. Max attends all her Grand Slam matches, and she visits his races. They are deeply in love and very open with each other, understanding each other's feelings and experiences.

That's the type of story I have in mind. I hope you like it!

Best regards,

Anon.

Power Couple

Summary: Max Verstappen and the Reader have been friends since childhood and started dating when they were 15. The Reader is currently the number one ranked tennis player, with 2 Wimbledon titles, 3 French Open titles, and 2 Australian Open titles to her name. She is the best in women's singles and doubles tennis at the moment.

Song: Slow Down · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: I hardly had any ideas for this one but I tried my best! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 6.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

It's messy, chaotic, and punctuated by the sharp thwack of a tennis ball and the roar of a finely tuned engine. It’s the story of you and Max, a whirlwind that started when you were both just fifteen, a story that’s still unfolding in the dazzling glare of the spotlight.

You were fifteen and a force of nature on the tennis court, even back then. Your name was already whispered with respect in junior circuits. You carried a racquet like an extension of your arm, and your focus was so intense it was almost palpable.

That summer, your training brought you to a small, dusty tennis club nestled in the Dutch countryside, a far cry from the manicured lawns of Wimbledon, but the perfect place to hone your craft.

He was there too. Not on the court, but lurking near the chain-link fence, a lanky boy with eyes the colour of storm clouds and a mop of unruly brown hair perpetually falling into his face. You'd noticed him, of course.

How could you not? He was the only teenager there whose attention wasn't glued to the endless practice sessions. Instead, he seemed more interested in the growl of the beat-up scooter he’d arrived on.

One day, during a water break, you were staring down at the worn-out grip on your Wilson when he spoke.

"That's a good shot," he said, his voice still cracking with that awkward teen timbre.

You looked up, surprised, and saw him leaning against the fence, an almost shy smile playing on his lips. "You mean the forehand?" you asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, a nervous habit you hadn't quite shaken off.

He shrugged, his eyes dancing with something you couldn't quite place. "I don't know. All of them, I guess? You look like you're trying to kill the ball."

A chuckle escaped you. "It's called intensity."

"Yeah, well, I like it." He pushed off the fence and walked a little closer. "I'm Max."

"You know, I've noticed," you teased, a smirk spreading across your face. "Always lurking by the gate."

His grin widened, making him look younger and somehow much more approachable. "Lurking? I prefer… observing." He paused, then gestured towards your racket. “Do you think you could teach me to hit like that?”

And just like that, a friendship was born, as naturally as the changing of seasons. You didn't actually teach him to play tennis, you decided, though, that he was far more enthralled with the intricate mechanics of his racing kart, and you found yourself drawn to the way his eyes lit up whenever he spoke about the feeling of speed and control.

You spent the rest of your summer evenings not on the court, but tinkering with his kart in his garage, or racing against each other on the empty country roads, the roar of engines a stark contrast to the quiet thud of tennis balls you were used to.

You taught him a little about the precision and discipline you carried from your sport while he showed you how to embrace a more reckless, unbridled kind of passion.

As the weeks passed, those shared moments morphed into something deeper. One warm evening, after a long day at the track, you found yourselves lying on the grass, looking up at the stars.

The silence stretched between you, comfortable and charged, until he turned his head, and his hand brushed against yours.

"You know," he said, his voice low, "I can't imagine not having you here. You're… unlike anyone I've ever met."

Your heart hammered against your ribs. You had thought the same thing, again and again. "You're kinda different yourself, Verstappen," you whispered, your gaze fixed on his face.

He picked up your hand, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Are you going to let me kiss you?” he asked, his stormy blue eyes searching yours.

You didn’t hesitate. You tilted your head slightly, and that soft, hesitant kiss was the start of something bigger than either of you could have imagined.

The next few years were a blur of teenage milestones, shared victories, and the quiet comfort of understanding each other. You traveled the world, following your dreams. You were winning Grand Slams.

You mastered the art of the backhand and the perfect serve, while he climbed the ranks in the world of Formula 1, learning the intricacies of high-speed racing and the relentless demands of the professional circuit.

You learned to navigate the complexities of a long-distance relationship, the bittersweet ache of goodbyes followed by the heady joy of reunions.

You’d meet in far-flung corners of the world, a stolen weekend in Monaco, a quick coffee in London, sharing late-night calls across different time zones, finding solace in each other’s voices.

You learned to listen, not just with your ears, but with your heart, understanding the unspoken language of ambition and dedication, of relentless pursuit, from someone who truly understood what was involved.

He was there in the stands when you clinched your first Wimbledon title, his applause echoing louder than the roar of the crowd, his pride radiating across the stadium.

You, in turn, were glued to the screen, every race day a nail-biting affair as you chanted his name like a magic spell. You celebrated his wins with unabashed joy, commiserated over his losses with a fierce loyalty that only a childhood best friend, a lover, could offer.

Your life now is a whirlwind of press conferences, sponsor obligations, and the unwavering pressure to stay at the top.

You glide across the court, a graceful yet powerful force, your focus sharp and unflinching, yet when you catch a glimpse of Max in the crowd, you allow yourself a secret smile, a silent reminder of your shared history, of the kid he was all those years ago. He is a reminder of that simpler time.

There are moments, like now, after another grueling day on the court, when you close your eyes and let the roar of the crowd fade away, replaced by the rumble of his scooter and the memory of his first shy smile.

You might be number one in the world of tennis, a name whispered in awe, but you know, the best title you've ever earned is his girlfriend. And that, you think, is the greatest prize of all.

And, as you’re getting ready for the next press conference, you're thinking of the next time you see him. The thought has you smiling again. . . .

The roar of the crowd is a familiar symphony, a constant hum beneath your focused breath. You adjust the headband, the familiar terry cloth a comfort against the glare of the stadium lights. Wimbledon’s Centre Court is your kingdom, the lush green grass your canvas.

You’re leading 5-3 in the third set against Elena Rybakina, a formidable opponent, your every move calculated, precise. A serve, a blur of motion – ace. The roar erupts, a wave of sound that threatens to lift you off your feet.

You know you've got this, the title within your grasp. You’ve worked for this, bled for this, every single grueling practice session, every sacrifice, all culminate in this moment.

You win the game, the match, and the crowd goes wild. The air crackles with energy, the taste of victory sweet on your tongue. You shake hands with Rybakina, a brief, respectful acknowledgment of the battle fought, then raise your arms in a triumphant arc.

Another Wimbledon title under your belt. You can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the familiar mix of elation and exhaustion. It’s a high like no other, but underneath that surge of victory there's another feeling, a quiet hum of anticipation.

You know who’s waiting for you.

The post-match media scrum is a blur - flashes, questions, microphone in your face. You handle it all with your usual icy grace, your well-honed responses a shield against the endless prodding.

You’re used to it; it comes with the territory of being the best. But you’re itching to escape its glare. You see your agent, Sarah, giving you a quick nod, and you know it's your cue. A few more polite words, another practiced smile, and then you're slipping away, finally free of the spotlight.

You find him in the players' lounge, perched on a sofa, his eyes tracking yours as you walk in. Max. He stands as you approach, a smile playing on his lips that makes your heart do that familiar little flip.

The harsh lines that often harden his face are softened when he looks at you. He gathers you into his arms, his embrace both fierce and gentle.

"You were incredible," he whispers against your hair, his voice roughened with emotion. "An absolute beast out there."

"Thanks, you," you murmur, breathing in his scent, the familiar comfort of it grounding you after the storm of the match. You pull back slightly, your gaze catching his. “Did you watch the whole thing? Even with your schedule?”

He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. You were destroying her. Honestly, you're the most dangerous person I know." You laugh at that, a genuine laugh that’s rare these days, a laugh that only he can draw out of you.

Later, back at the house in Monaco, you sit side-by-side on the balcony, the Mediterranean Sea shimmering under the moonlight. He holds your hand, his thumb tracing patterns on your knuckles.

In this serene space, the world outside fades away. The tension that always seems to cling to you both loosens, the relentless pressure of your careers receding into the background.

"You know," Max begins, his voice quiet, "sometimes I still can't believe it. You, the best there is. Not just in the world, but the best there could ever be.”

You turn to him, your eyes searching his. "And you?" you ask him, “World Champion twice? Sometimes I can't believe you’re not some superhuman entity.”

He squeezes your hand, his gaze unwavering. "We both push ourselves to the edge, and beyond," he says. "It's what makes us who we are, isn’t it?"

"Yeah," you agree, leaning your head against his shoulder. "But it's also why we need each other." The silence that follows is comfortable, a space filled with shared understanding, a knowing that transcends words.

The days that follow are a brief reprieve, stolen moments away from the relentless cycle of competition. You spend them walking along the coast, laughing, rediscovering the simplicity of just being together.

But the respite is always fleeting, the demands of your respective careers always looming on the horizon. You’re due to fly out for a tournament in Washington D.C. in a week, and Max is scheduled for a race in Hungary two weeks after that.

The night before you leave, the atmosphere is thick with a quiet anticipation. You’re curled up on the sofa, your favourite movie playing softly on the TV, but neither of you is paying much attention.

Max pulls you closer, his hand slipping beneath your t-shirt, tracing the curve of your back. His skin is always warm against yours, a familiar comfort.

"I wish you didn't have to go," he murmurs, his voice husky. "I hate being away from you."

You turn to face him, your fingers cupping his cheek. "I wish I didn't either, but we know how this goes. We’re just two very busy, very overachieving maniacs.”

He smiles, a flash of his boyish charm. "Yeah, but that's why I love you. You’re as insane as I am." He leans in, his lips finding yours, and for a moment, the world outside ceases to exist.

The morning you leave, the goodbyes are short, a quick kiss on the lips and a promise to call every day. You watch his car disappear down the driveway, a small ache settling in your chest.

It's the same ache you feel every time you part ways, a reminder of your connection, a reminder of what you have to come back to.

The tournament in D.C. is a brutal battle. You're seeded first, as always, and the pressure is immense. You win the first few rounds with your usual dominance, but then come up against a rising star, a young American player who pushes you to your absolute limit.

The match goes to five sets, each point a war of attrition. You’re exhausted by the end, but you win, the taste of victory bittersweet.

That night, you’re in the hotel room, the city lights twinkling outside your window. You’re on a call with Max, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

He’s telling you about his practice sessions, the improvements he’s made to his car, and you’re listening intently, your mind drifting away from the exhaustion and the pressure.

“You were so close out there,” he says suddenly, “your match was insane, I was so nervous.”

“You always are,” you giggle, picturing his intense face watching your match on the TV. “Just like how I feel every race you’re in.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, the hum of the call a gentle lull. “I’m proud of you,” he says, his voice soft, “you always make me so proud.”

“And I you,” you murmur, a lump forming in your throat.

“I love you,” he whispers, and you feel like you're home again, all the way across the world.

“Love you too, always.”

You fall asleep with his voice still ringing in your ears. The next morning, you wake up to a phone call you weren't expecting. It’s Sarah, your agent, and her voice is strained.

"There's been an accident," she says, her voice barely a whisper, "Max... he was in a crash during practice."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. The room spins, the world blurring at the edges. Your breath catches in your chest, a cold dread gripping your heart.

"How bad?" you manage to ask, your voice shaking.

"We don't know yet," she says, the uncertainty in her voice doing little to assuage the terror that’s now flooding you. "You need to come home, now."

The next few hours are a chaotic blur. You’re on autopilot, racing through airports and boarding planes, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You barely register the faces around you, the sounds of the world muted, as if you're underwater.

All you can think of is Max, his face, his smile, his voice. The thought of losing him is unbearable.

You arrive in Monaco in the dead of night. The house feels cold and empty, the silence deafening. You make your way to the hospital, your every step heavy, the weight of your fear pressing down on you.

You find him in a small, sterile room, his body connected to monitors. He’s pale and still, his face almost hidden by the shadows. You feel like you’ve been ripped open, the pain so sharp it steals your breath.

You rush to his side, your fingers reaching for his hand. His skin is cold, but his grip tightens around yours, a small, reassuring squeeze.

His eyes flutter open, and he looks at you, a flicker of recognition in his gaze. "You’re here," he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Max,” you breathe, a sob catching in your throat. Tears are streaming down your face as you gently cup his face. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

He smiles weakly, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. “I knew you would be,” he murmurs, his eyes closing again, “always, even when I’m an idiot driving a race car.”

You don’t say anything, you just sit beside him, holding his hand, and watching him breathe, a silent promise passing between you, a bond forged in childhood, strengthened by shared triumphs and endured through deep pain - a love that would always, always persevere. . . .

The scent of burnt rubber and high-octane fuel clings to him even before the door shuts. You hear the familiar click of the lock, and then the heavier thud of his boots hitting the tiles of the hallway.

You’re sprawled on the couch, a worn-out copy of “Open” by Andre Agassi resting on your chest. Jimmy, the ginger behemoth, is purring like a motorboat on your left thigh, while Sassy, the sleek black panther, is curled into a perfect ebony question mark at your feet.

They’ve been your constant companions during the lull before your next tournament.

“Hey,” Max’s voice is low, tired, but a ripple of warmth underlies it. You open your eyes, the intense afternoon sun filtering in through the tall living room windows making the world outside a blur of gold and green.

You push Agassi off your chest, feeling the book’s weight leave a slight indent.

“Hey yourself,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. You watch as he shrugs off his jacket, the Red Bull logo on his polo a vibrant dash of color against the muted tones of the room.

He looks drained, the lines around his eyes slightly more pronounced than you remember from the last time he was home. You know those lines; they’re etched by the relentless pressure of Formula 1, the constant travel, the unending pursuit of milliseconds.

He kneels beside the couch, reaching out a hand to scratch behind Jimmy's ears. The cat pushes his head into Max’s palm, a rumbling purr vibrating through his frame.

“They’ve missed you,” you murmur, running a hand down Sassy’s velvety back.

Max glances up at you, his blue eyes, usually so sharp and focused, are a little softer now, a touch vulnerable and definitely possessive. “Not as much as I missed you,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on your face.

You feel the familiar warmth spread through your chest. It's crazy how after all these years, the simple act of him looking at you like that can still make your heart do somersaults.

He settles onto the couch, his long legs stretching out and nearly touching your feet. He pulls you into his side, and you nestle in, the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby.

The tension in his body is palpable. “Bad race?” you ask softly, tracing small circles on his arm with your fingertip.

He sighs, a gust of air escaping his lips. “Third,” he replies, the single word carrying a weight that you understand completely. “Just… not good enough, you know?”

You nod, because you do know. You've had your share of crushing defeats, the sting of a missed shot, the frustration of an opponent playing out of their skin. You’ve both built entire empires on a foundation of ambition, a constant striving for perfection, despite the inherent impossibility of it.

You know how those ‘not good enough’ days can feel.

“You’ll get ‘em next time,” you say, your head resting against his shoulder. There’s no need for platitudes or empty reassurances. He knows that you know.

A wry smile touches his lips. “Easy for you to say. You’re basically untouchable on the court right now.”

You chuckle, a low, confident sound that ripples through his frame. “Untouchable? Please. I just know how to make my opponents sweat a little.”

You raise your eyebrows, a mischievous glint in your eyes. He is so well aware of the press conferences where you don't mince your words.

He lets out a genuine laugh then, the sound is music to your ears. It’s raw and real. “That's the understatement of the century,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “The way you went off on that reporter after your French Open semi-final was legendary."

You roll your eyes dramatically, though you can't suppress the grin that spreads across your face. “He asked if I was scared of my opponent. Scared. As if. I’d rather face a thousand of those volleys than go through another interview like that.”

He pulls you closer, his arm tightening around you. "You're fierce," he murmurs, burying his face in your hair. "On and off the court. It's... it's one of the things I love about you.”

“And you’re terrifying behind the wheel,” you tease, knowing that a lot of his race opponents are afraid of him on the track.

He chuckles again, a low rumble against your ear. “And you love that too,” he says, the teasing note in his voice back.

You don’t bother denying it. He knows you too well. You know him too well. You’ve built something that is so incredibly strong because it was always built together. You’ve seen each other through the highs and lows, the wins and losses, the triumphs and the heartbreaks.

You’ve navigated the pressures of fame, the relentless scrutiny, the isolating nature of being at the top – together. You were just kids when it started, two teenagers with big dreams and even bigger personalities.

You fell in love navigating the ups and downs of life, and you grew up together, which made things that much stronger.

The silence that follows is comfortable, filled with the unspoken language that only two people who have known each other for so long can share. You can feel the tension slowly leaving him, as if your presence is a balm to his weary soul.

“Tournament soon?” he asks, his voice muffled against your hair.

“Yeah,” you reply, “Dubai. In a week.” You know the time change between Dubai and Europe will be brutal, but you’ve become accustomed to that aspect of your career.

He lifts his head and looks at you, his gaze intense. “You’ll crush them,” he says with absolute certainty.

You smile, the confidence in his voice a tangible thing. “Just like you’re going to leave them all in the dust next race, huh?”

He grins, that familiar flash of competitive fire returning to his eyes. “You know it.”

You trace the line of his jaw, your fingers lingering on the slight stubble. You could spend hours like this, just the two of you, wrapped up in each other’s presence, the noise of the world fading away.

There’s a vulnerability in him that only you get to see, a softness that he hides from the cameras, the reporters, the rivals. And in return, he gets to see a side of you that very few have been privy to, the quiet tenderness that lies beneath the fiery exterior.

“Want to order some takeaway?” you ask, the thought of cooking suddenly feeling like a monumental task.

“Pizza?” he suggests, his eyes already sparkling with the thought.

“Only if it has pineapple,” you tease, knowing that it is the most controversial thing you could possibly say.

Max groans, throwing his head back against the couch. “You are absolutely going to be the death of me,” he says, but the smile on his face belies his words.

You laugh, the sound light and free. You lean in, your lips meeting his in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s the taste of home, a place where you are both just Max and you, where the pressures of the world are just whispers in the distance.

You know that outside this space, you are both world-class athletes with unwavering determination, but in each other’s arms, you are just two people who grew up together. Who fell in love.

Who, despite the relentless demands of your careers, will always find their way back to each other. You are, after all, each other’s constant. You are, and will always be, each other’s home.

The roar of the engine was a familiar lullaby, a sound that had been a constant soundtrack to your life since you were kids, perched on the sidelines of karting tracks, watching Max whiz by in a blur of red and orange.

Now, instead of a flimsy kart, you were strapped into a beast of a car, the smell of hot rubber and high-octane fuel filling your nostrils. You glanced at the familiar, focused profile of Max beside you, the set of his jaw a testament to his concentration.

This was supposed to be a fun exercise, a publicity stunt dreamed up by Red Bull’s marketing department – the world’s number one tennis player, and the reigning Formula One Champion, taking a joyride. Except, this wasn’t a joyride.

This was a terror ride, and you were pretty sure your heart was currently trying to stage a coup and escape from your chest.

“Max,” you started, your voice a little too high pitched, a far cry from the confident, booming voice that usually echoed through stadium press boxes. “You know I’m used to your speed, right? On the track, where it's meant to be, not on some random circuit at 300 km/h.”

He didn’t answer, just a subtle twitch of his lips hinting at a suppressed grin. You gripped the grab handle on your side of the car so hard your knuckles turned white.

It was no secret that Max, much like you on the tennis court, thrived on pushing boundaries. He was a master of controlled chaos on the track, and right now, you weren’t so sure about the "controlled" part.

The car accelerated, forcing you back into your seat. You let out a yell, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through you.

You were used to controlling your own trajectory, predicting your opponent’s next move, the satisfying thump of a perfectly placed serve. This, this was utterly out of your hands, at the mercy of Max’s foot on the accelerator pedal.

“Max! Verdomme! Slow down!” You bellowed, resorting to Dutch as your carefully constructed composure shattered into a million pieces. You could feel the g-force pressing against you, throwing your head against the headrest as he took a corner at an impossible speed.

You braced yourself, bracing your hands against the dashboard, trying to find something solid to cling to.

You could hear him chuckling, the sound muffled but distinct. You could practically see the mischievous glint in his eyes, even though you were looking straight at the dashboard.

“What, is the little tennis star scared?” He teased, his voice laced with amusement.

He downshifted, the revs of the engine screaming higher, and you swore you felt your stomach try to migrate up into your throat.

“Scared?! I’m not scared!” You shouted back, partially for his benefit, mostly for yours. “I’m just… concerned about the structural integrity of this car. And my very delicate internal organs!” You knew you sounded pathetic, not the self-assured athlete the world knew and feared, but you couldn’t help it.

This was Max Verstappen, after all. He had a unique way of bringing out your most ridiculous, human side.

He laughed again, a full, genuine laugh this time, the kind that made your heart flutter even while your stomach was performing gymnastics.

He glanced over at you, a grin playing on his face. “Relax, schatje. I have it under control.”

And maybe, just maybe, you did believe him, for a split second anyway. Then he slammed on the gas and you screamed again, a string of Dutch curses pouring out of your lips as you gripped the headrest with an iron fist.

Each turn was a rollercoaster, each acceleration a punch to your gut. You found yourself cursing in Dutch, English, and even a little bit of French, a linguistic mashup fuelled by sheer terror.

You caught glimpses of the blur outside, the landscape a streaks of green and brown. You tried to focus on breathing, trying to regain a semblance of control over your runaway emotions, but every time he hit the accelerator, you lost it again.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, or perhaps just a few minutes of extreme adrenaline, the car slowed, and pulled into a stop. You were slumped back in your seat, a sweaty, disheveled mess.

“That was… an experience,” you managed, your voice still a bit shaky.

He turned to you, his eyes sparkling as he gave you a wide, triumphant grin. “Fun, right?”

You almost laughed, a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. “Fun? Max, I think I aged at least five years in that car.” You reached up and felt your pulse, which was still trying to break free.

He tilted his head, the playful gleam still dancing in his eyes. “But you said you're used to my speed."

You threw your hands up. “Yes, but I didn’t know you’d be trying to scare me, you… absolute menace.”

He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated in your chest, and then reached over and undid your seatbelt. As he did, he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Maybe just a little.”

You felt yourself blush, despite the fact that you were also on the verge of throttling him. As he stepped out of the car, you took a moment to collect yourself, smoothing your clothes and trying to appear somewhat pulled together.

As you reached up, your fingers brushed something small and hard attached to the car’s dashboard. It was a camera, aimed directly at you.

Your eyes widened, and then everything clicked into place. The teasing laughter, the exaggerated acceleration, the playful comments – it had all been an elaborate, incredibly mischievous ploy.

You burst out laughing, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that echoed around the open space. You couldn't help it. It was absurd, ridiculous, and completely, utterly Max.

You covered your face with your hands, still laughing. He watched you, his eyes sparkling, a smile playing on his lips.

“Did you get all of that?” you exclaimed, still chuckling. “The screaming in multiple languages? The death grips on the dashboard?"

He shrugged, pretending to look innocent, but the smirk on his face told another story. “Maybe.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “You’re unbelievable,” you said, your voice laced with amusement rather than anger.

“Only for you,” he replied, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes.

You lowered your hands, a smile now playing on your lips. “I should have known, shouldn’t I? That you would never just do a normal lap with me.”

He took a step closer, his eyes meeting yours. “Where’s the fun in normal, liefje?”

You knew he was right. Normal was boring. And as much as the terror of the hot lap had made you want to wring his neck, you also wouldn't trade it for anything.

It was another reminder of the chaotic dance you and Max had always been in, a dance of adrenaline, teasing, and a love that ran as deep as the engine roar that had been the background to your lives.

This was your Max, and despite your near-death experience, you wouldn't have him any other way. You stepped out of the car, ready to face the world, and whatever else he decided to throw your way. The camera might have captured your terrified screams, but it had missed the grin that was now plastered across your face.

You were ready for your next match but you were also ready for whatever chaos Max decided to unleash next.

Life with him was never boring, and you wouldn't have it any other way. . . .

The crisp December air nips at your cheeks as you step out of the car, the familiar rumble of Max's engine fading behind you. You pull your coat tighter, adjusting your beanie, a small smile playing on your lips.

The holidays. A welcome respite from the relentless pressure of the tennis circuit. A chance to breathe, to ground yourself before the Australian Open looms. And, most importantly, time with Max.

He's already by the padel court, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he bounces a ball. Lando and Charles are there too, bickering about something trivial, their usual competitive energy already buzzing.

“Took you long enough, slowpoke,” Max teases, tossing the ball to you.

“Traffic,” you retort, catching it easily. “Besides, someone had to pack the snacks, didn’t they?”

Lando groans dramatically. “Snacks? You brought snacks? This is serious competition, woman!”

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of your on-court persona flickering through. “Oh, I thought this was just a friendly get-together. Unless you’re scared, Lando?”

He splutters, Charles chuckling beside him. “Scared? Of you? Please. Just wait until I unleash my padel prowess.”

Max wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Don’t listen to him, liefje. We’ll crush them.”

That Dutch endearment always makes you melt, and a genuine smile spreads across your face. He knows exactly how to disarm you.

The game starts, and the air is filled with the thwack of the ball, playful taunts, and the occasional groan of exertion. You and Max move with a practiced synchronicity, years of playing (and bickering) together evident in your easy communication.

Max is surprisingly good at padel, his reflexes honed by years of racing, and you find yourself relying on his power, setting him up for winning shots.

“That’s cheating! You have your wife on your team,” Lando grumbles, wiping sweat from his brow after another point you and Max win.

“Jealous, are we?” you retort, grinning. “Maybe you should find yourself a tennis champion girlfriend.”

Charles snorts. “Good luck with that. Finding someone who can keep up with you is a challenge.”

You playfully shove Charles’ shoulder. “I’m not that intimidating.”

Max squeezes your hand. “Oh, you are. Especially when you give those death stares on court.”

He's right, of course. You can be ruthless. You have to be. The pressure to stay on top is immense, the media constantly scrutinizing every move, every word. The expectation is suffocating sometimes.

Later, as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the court, you’re sitting on the bench, catching your breath.

The score is ridiculously lopsided in yours and Max’s favor. Lando and Charles have conceded defeat, blaming everything from the altitude to the snack selection.

Max sits beside you, his arm draped around your shoulders. “You were amazing out there,” he says, his voice soft. “Like always.”

“So were you,” you reply, leaning into him. “You know, for a race car driver.”

He laughs, a warm, comforting sound. “It's all about reflexes, liefje. And a killer instinct.”

He understands that killer instinct in you, the drive to win, the unwavering focus. He sees it because he possesses it too.

It binds you together, this shared understanding of the relentless pursuit of excellence, the sacrifices required, the price you both pay.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his eyes searching yours. “With everything… the media, the pressure. Are you okay?”

It's a question he asks often, a constant check-in, a reminder that he’s there, always. It's a tenderness he rarely shows the world, a vulnerability reserved only for you.

You sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “It’s tough. The whispers, the judgment… sometimes it feels like I'm living under a microscope.”

“I know,” he says, his voice laced with empathy. “They’re brutal. They try to tear you down because they’re jealous of what you’ve achieved.”

He knows what it’s like to be under that kind of scrutiny, to have every mistake magnified, every victory questioned. He lived it his entire life, his father's relentless expectations and the constant pressure to perform.

You trace a pattern on his jeans with your finger. “It’s different for you, though. You have the car, the team… you’re surrounded by people who support you, who believe in you.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm. “And you don’t?”

You look up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Of course, I do. But it’s… lonely at the top. Everyone wants something from you. It’s hard to know who to trust.”

He understands that too. The isolation that comes with success, the constant questioning of motives.

“You have me,” he says, his voice unwavering. “You always have me. And I know it’s not the same, but Lando and Charles… they care about you too. We all see how hard you work, how much you dedicate yourself to your sport.”

He pulls you closer, his warmth enveloping you. “Don’t let them break you, liefje. You’re stronger than they think. Stronger than you even give yourself credit for.”

His words are like a balm to your soul, a reminder of your strength, your resilience. He sees you, truly sees you, the fierce competitor and the vulnerable woman beneath.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s just… sometimes it gets overwhelming.”

He kisses your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Then let me carry some of the weight. That’s what I’m here for.”

The sun has almost completely disappeared, and the air is getting colder. Lando and Charles are packing up their things, their boisterous energy subdued.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Lando calls out. “We’re heading back. You coming?”

You look at Max, a silent question in your eyes.

He squeezes your hand again. “Go. I’ll stay a little longer. I want to watch the stars.”

You nod, knowing he needs the quiet, the solitude. He finds peace in the vastness of the night sky, a reminder that his problems, his pressures, are small in the grand scheme of things.

You stand up, giving Max one last kiss. “I’ll see you back at the house.”

As you walk away, you glance back at him. He’s sitting on the bench, his head tilted back, gazing at the stars. In that moment, he looks so young, so vulnerable.

The weight of the world, the expectations of millions, seem to melt away, leaving only a man searching for solace in the vastness of the universe.

You know you would do anything for him, fight anyone who dared to hurt him. You are his anchor, just as he is yours.

Later that night, you find him on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket, still staring at the stars. You join him, slipping under the blanket, pressing close to his side.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask, your voice soft.

He lets out a long sigh. “Just… everything. The season, the pressure, the expectations.”

You reach out and take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “You’re going to be okay, Max. You’re the best. You always have been.”

He turns to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and tenderness. “And you? Are you going to be okay?”

You smile, a genuine, heartfelt smile. “With you by my side? Always.”

You lean in and kiss him, a long, slow kiss that speaks of years of shared history, of unspoken understanding, of unwavering love.

In that moment, under the vast expanse of the starry sky, you are just two people, connected by a bond that transcends the pressures of fame and the demands of the world.

You are simply Max and you, a team, a partnership, a love that has endured the test of time and the scrutiny of the world. And that, you realize, is all that truly matters. . .

[fraudulent-cheese]

Ophe i love your posts but

Eva being told her whole life that she doesn't meet the societal stanards of beauty and femininity so she internalises that as distain of all things "girly", instead throwing herself into stereotypically masculine interests, hobbies and fashion choices because she'd rather reject the idea of femininity entirely than lose at it.

[melovrs]

he isn’t the biggest fan of parties. 

he could think of so many more things he could be doing other than mundanely chatting with acquaintances and friends-of-friends. the loud music and shitty drinks make him want to puke his guts out; being sociable was never one of his strong suits, after all.

yet, just as he’s about to leave, he comes across the girl of his dreams. the girl he had been crushing on for the longest time, the girl in his biology class, sitting on a beat up sofa. 

his friend noticed his lingering gaze on you and interrogates. 

“looks like someone’s caught your eye.”

he turned around, his ears tinged with a blush.

“it’s nothing like that.”

his friend snorted and walked off, presumably to talk to another group of people. with his friend gone, his gaze returned back to you. your face glowed despite the darkness of the room. fluorescent lights danced across the room, and chatter is amongst the crowd, yet all he could focus on was your beauty. 

the thought of leaving the party has been abandoned, not when the girl of his dreams is right before him! he gathered himself up, realizing he was staring at you for far too long; long enough for you to possibly notice him. he turned on his heel and decided to get some water. 

with a bottle of water, he returned to the same spot he was at, looking down at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but to you. as he was fiddling with his hands, he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

to his utter surprise, it was you, in the flesh. a shy smile was on your lips as you waved at him. 

“hey, you’re in my biology class, right?” 

you started the conversation, noticing how he froze up at your touch. he cleared his throat before responding. 

"um, yeah, i think so." 

he regrets his response immediately. 'i think so?’ what was he on about? he practically noticed you every time he walked into the lecture hall, your face radiant as always. 

you smiled at his response. 

"i was hoping you'd remember, or this would have been weird," you laugh awkwardly. 

the silence between you two was eminent, and he was desperate to break it. before he could speak, though, you started.

"uh- how's the party going for you?" 

he played with the water bottle in his hand. 

"it's alright, i guess. i'm not a fan of parties, my friend just dragged me here, so..." he trailed off. 

you nodded knowingly, agreeing with him. 

"i'm the same as you too, i'm here just because my friend," you point over to the couch, "brought me here." 

you softly laugh and lean closer to his body, your shoulders almost grazing. though the party is as loud as ever, and the lights are blinding, all he could feel was your arm leaning on his, your voice like a melody to his ears. 

maybe he'll start going out to more parties, if it means you'll be there.

(hq) kageyama tobio, akaashi keiji, tsukishima kei, futakuchi kenji, ushijima wakatoshi, (wbk) sakura haruka, takiishi chika, togame jo, (bllk) itoshi rin, (post wc) kunigami rensuke, nagi seishiro, barou shouei

i've never been to a party in my LIFE so this is probably super inaccurate jsjsdjfj pls be nice !! i was listening to cherry wine by grentperez then this idea came to me !! go listen !! (wbk debut YAY !!!)

thank you so much to @littlemissemeritus for beta reading i love u pooks 🥺🥺

[gibberishfangirl]

Hello! I'd like to request Bofurin (and anyone else if you'd like) with reader who's very feminine

Pink dresses, bows everywhere, sunshine energy.. You get it

WIND BREAKER | dating the coquette girly

Synopsis ✰ head cannons of the boys dating a girly coquette sunshine girl who is aesthetically pleasing

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Mitsuki Kiryu, Toma Higari, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ sfw! boys being mesmerized, cute content of them admiring your style

★ a/n <3 : I LOVE THIS. i love all my cute girly girls out there. i envisioned a coquette aesthetic/style when i first saw your request so i ran with it! hope you don’t mind and this is what you were also thinking <3 ★

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 your style makes him more bashful

𝜗𝜚 he’s very protective over you

𝜗𝜚 fights off any creeps whose eyes linger on you for too long

𝜗𝜚 “stop staring, it’s creepy.”

𝜗𝜚 loves how nice, gentle, and optimistic you are

𝜗𝜚 you’re the only person he has photos of saved onto his phone

𝜗𝜚 blushes and stares at his phone for hours whenever you send him selfies

𝜗𝜚 “what are you looking at Sakura?” “nothing!”

𝜗𝜚 such a shy blushing mess whenever you happen to wear sundresses or short skirts

𝜗𝜚 on guard 24/7 wanting to make sure no one else is looking at you inappropriately

𝜗𝜚 his favorite season quickly becomes spring since it reminds him of you

𝜗𝜚 secretly loves whenever you take his phone and snap cute selfies of yourself (he constantly has a new wallpaper because of this)

𝜗𝜚 100% gets teased by his friends for having so many photos of you

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 matches your energy perfectlyy

𝜗𝜚 you two bounce off each other so well

𝜗𝜚 loves how cute you are

𝜗𝜚 literally plants flowers that remind him of you

𝜗𝜚 loves to take pics of you with his plants (hello?? pics of his favorite things on earth together? consider him obsessed)

𝜗𝜚 he’s obsessed with you

𝜗𝜚 loves to show all the cute photos he has of you to his friends

𝜗𝜚 bro is literally kicking his feet and giggling over you

𝜗𝜚 his mood instantly gets better with you around

𝜗𝜚 is even happier once he finds out you and Kotoha get along

𝜗𝜚 strongly convinced that he will marry you in the future

𝜗𝜚 tempted to propose now

𝜗𝜚 loves to watch you get ready and do cute hairstyles on yourself

𝜗𝜚 learns how to do ponytails so he can help you with your little half up half down pigtail hair-do’s (hopefully i made that make sense LOL sorry if i didn’t)

𝜗𝜚 you can practically see heart shapes in his eyes whenever he looks at you

Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 fell in love at first sight

𝜗𝜚 he was star struck when he first saw you

𝜗𝜚 you’re literally his ideal type

𝜗𝜚 loves how pleasing you are to look at and be around

𝜗𝜚 has a hard time believing you’re real

𝜗𝜚 100000% will let you put bows in his hair

𝜗𝜚 keeps a close eye on you since he doesn’t want you to get bothered by anyone

𝜗𝜚 takes you on the cutest dates ever

𝜗𝜚 takes the cutest pics of you during your dates

𝜗𝜚 will ask you to send him selfies everyday

𝜗𝜚 his social media accounts are basically fan accounts of you

𝜗𝜚 sweetest couple alive

𝜗𝜚 your gentle energy matches well with his

𝜗𝜚 is slightly taken back by how genuine you are (in a good way)

𝜗𝜚 has the urge to protect you from the world

𝜗𝜚 constantly thinks about how lucky he was to cross paths with you and be your boyfriend

Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 being the fashionista he is, he loves your outfits

𝜗𝜚 is in love with the aesthetic and totally gets the picture

𝜗𝜚 will help you plan out your outfits on facetime

𝜗𝜚 still can’t fathom why someone like you would choose someone like him

𝜗𝜚 feels lucky you to have you and never takes you for granted

𝜗𝜚 he always assumed someone as cute as you would go for a guy more like Suo or Kiryu, so he feels special that you wanted him

𝜗𝜚 loves to go shopping with you

𝜗𝜚 buys any cute item he sees because it reminds him of you

𝜗𝜚 expect him to gift you tons of things due to that

𝜗𝜚 “here i got you this because it made me think of you!” (CUTEST BOY)

𝜗𝜚 will always defend you if anyone says anything

𝜗𝜚 literally becomes your personal photographer

𝜗𝜚 you guys are such couple goals on social media

𝜗𝜚 blushes whenever you’re very caring towards him

𝜗𝜚 you help boost his confidence since you always have so many positive things to say about him

Mitsuki Kiryu ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 have you seen this man? he lovesss your style

𝜗𝜚 thinks you’re the most precious thing to ever exist

𝜗𝜚 he loves to hold your hand in public and show you off

𝜗𝜚 spends most of his day resting his cheek on his hand while admiring your cuteness

𝜗𝜚 will match with you if you ask

𝜗𝜚 will twirl you around so he can watch your cute dresses/skirts flow in the air

𝜗𝜚 brags about how cute his girlfriend is to others

𝜗𝜚 compliments you whenever he has the chance

𝜗𝜚 takes so many pictures of you

𝜗𝜚 his phone screen is definitely a photo of you dressed up all cute in a field of flowers

𝜗𝜚 loves to fix up the bows in your hair

𝜗𝜚 won’t mind if you ever ask to put a bow on him

𝜗𝜚 both you share love for the color pink

𝜗𝜚 loves it when you sit on his lap during hang outs so everyone knows your his

𝜗𝜚 of course no one is surprised to find out how adorable Kiryu’s girlfriend is

Toma Higari ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 he’s very shy about how polar opposites you two look

𝜗𝜚 no one really saw you two coming

𝜗𝜚 you’re like a breath of fresh air to him

𝜗𝜚 loves how peaceful you are in comparison to his chaotic lifestyle

𝜗𝜚 you live in bliss as your boyfriend practically scares off anyone from messing with you

𝜗𝜚 feels refreshed being around you

𝜗𝜚 seriously you’re like a glass of cool water on a hot day to him that’s how much you affect him

𝜗𝜚 loves how caring you are about him and those around you

𝜗𝜚 your hopeful attitude rubs off on him after hanging out with you consistently

𝜗𝜚 definitely has a problem with anyone who makes any weird or sly comments about you or your relationship with him

𝜗𝜚 has no problem defending you in any case

𝜗𝜚 gets very flustered by your wardrobe choices at times

𝜗𝜚 might want you to change sometimes if your skirt is too short

𝜗𝜚 will consider beating up any guy who looks at you

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 he’s a sly dog

𝜗𝜚 100% checks you out when you’re not looking (hell, he’s doing that even if you’re looking)

𝜗𝜚 loves how dainty and delicate you look in comparison to him

𝜗𝜚 he’s all over you 24/7 even if it’s just casually hugging you from behind

𝜗𝜚 definitely makes sure everyone knows your his girl

𝜗𝜚 very protective over you

𝜗𝜚 won’t be afraid to check anyone if they’re being inappropriate towards you

𝜗𝜚 finds you very sweet for being so nice to him and being very considerate of him

𝜗𝜚 ruins your outfits by making you wear his jacket over them

𝜗𝜚 he thinks his jacket makes you look cuter with the way it swallows you

𝜗𝜚 makes you wear his jacket because it shows to others you’re his and it makes people back off

𝜗𝜚 encourages your clothing choices

𝜗𝜚 “wear whatever you want, i can fight.” (HEAVY ON THIS ENERGY)

Choji Tomiyama ᡣ𐭩

𝜗𝜚 has the same “wear whatever you want, i can fight.” energy

𝜗𝜚 be careful, he will literally beat anyone into a pulp if they look at you funny, talk about you vulgarly, hits on you, etc. all he needs is just one reason

𝜗𝜚 he doesn’t really understand fashion but thinks you’re beautiful

𝜗𝜚 loves how confident you are and how you know exactly who you are

𝜗𝜚 admires how much effort you put into getting ready

𝜗𝜚 always wants to take you out to lunch, dinner, the movies, anywhere he can just so he can see what new cute outfits you can come up with

𝜗𝜚 compliments you 24/7

𝜗𝜚 will ask you to put your hair accessories on him

𝜗𝜚 definitely the dresses up gf and dresses down bf couple

𝜗𝜚 he actually likes how much you stick out when you’re next to him

𝜗𝜚 always wants to suffocate you in hugs after he sees how adorable you look that day

𝜗𝜚 two peas in a pod

𝜗𝜚 you both radiate the same energy at times

𝜗𝜚 you help him stay at a happy place, if he ever feels himself feeling sad again you’re always there to grab his hand and pull him right out <3