#like at this point its probably harder to NOT just admit it

[ipoddymouth]

https://x.com/harryscomet1/status/1876432318338085128 not to start discourse but im bored so maybe i will start discourse but this kinda doesnt make sense to me like he's the one who hints at it in the first place publicly and then when asked about it goes why tf would you ask me about it its private. surely he knows if you put something out publicly people are going to speculate and ask that's just how things are. its one thing if it was just off of larry bs which has happened before and there this would make sense but he's actively been like teehee do i like men? for the past 5 years now and harries act like he's being burned at the stake when someone even asks, he can choose to keep it private that's his right but people will ask 😭

naurrr the fact its a quote from a better homes and gardens interview is sending meeeee

and also ur right.....he doesnt NEED to say anything but like dog......why build all this suspense to just say u like fuckin dudes.....u aint special! like the only really shocking thing he could do is say he's trans or is a republican like other than that aint nothin about him that would be a revelation

[xxplastic-cubexx]

do u think either charles or erik had trouble coming to terms with their love for one another?? like religious guilt, internalized homophobia, etc.

Many such cases really … not hard to imagine them dealin with that …

[sleepyjuice]

Request, after fratboy!jj writes your name on his dick (with sharpie ofc like a dumbass) you help him get it off but the stimulation makes him cum

EEEEKKKKKDJ his dumbass!!!!

“Why the fuck did you use sharpie?!”

“You know, I didn’t think that part through.”

You rolled your eyes for what was probably the twentieth time in the past ten minutes as you walked back into JJ’s bedroom from the slightly disgusting frat house bathroom carrying a warm, wet washcloth with soap.

“You gotta admit, it’s hot though, right?” He grinned at you as he sat on the foot of his bed, clad only in a t-shirt and his boxers.

“Yes,” you sighed, kneeling down by JJ’s feet as you gestured for him to pull off his boxers. ���But the fact that you used permanent marker is not. I don’t even think it’s gonna come all the way off.”

He obliged, pulling his boxers off and revealing his soft dick, your name big and bold along his shaft. This was such a JJ thing to do and you could tell his intentions were to make you feel special in his own JJ type of way.

“Well, just do what ya can,” he looked down at you with an endearing smile. “Totally worth it though, got you on your knees for me.” He half joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes once again, swatting his bare thigh as you grabbed his cock, feeling it immediately begin to stiffen, growing harder by the second.

You couldn’t help but blush. Regardless of the situation, the fact that you just had to get on your knees and lightly touch your boyfriend’s dick to get him hard made you feel all warm inside.

With a fake annoyed hum, you began gently rubbing the washcloth along JJ’s cock, careful to not be too rough and hurt him but using enough pressure to hopefully make some progress on removing the ink.

JJ’s stomach tightened immediately as you worked away on his dick, swallowing thickly as he attempted to keep his composure, even though at this point, he was fully hard.

“Well, I guess it is easier with you being hard…” you mumbled, staying focused on the task at hand. You really did not want to have sex with JJ while there was sharpie on his dick, so the sooner you got it off, the better.

“Mhm.” Was all he said in response, his fists clenching the sheets at his sides, his breathing becoming a bit heavier the more you rubbed his cock.

The warmth and the wetness of the washcloth was a nice enough feeling on its own, but the sight of you on your knees beneath him, brows furrowed in concentration and seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was getting off on this was bringing him close to nutting all over your hands.

And that’s exactly what happened.

“I think it’s starting to— oh!” You gasped as JJ let out a loud and shaky moan, his eyes widening as he met your shocked expression, taking you by complete surprise as he came in thick spurts all over your hands as well as the washcloth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted, reaching down to cup your face. “I didn’t think— yeah… felt so good, baby, ‘m sorry.” He apologized, squeezing your cheeks lightly in his large hands, his own face slightly flushed, eyes glossy as he finished coming down from his unexpected orgasm.

You were quiet for a moment before you giggled loudly, shaking your head at your boyfriend as you wiped your hands clean with the apparent magic washcloth.

It was hard to ignore the blood that rushed to your center, thighs clenching absentmindedly as you fully realized everything that had happened. You just accidentally made him cum.

“JJ—“

“I know, I know,”

“Hey. That was hot, you’re fine, it’s okay.” You giggled again, but spoke firmly to assure him. You knew he was embarrassed and nervous he had upset you, but you weren’t upset in the slightest.

“Oh yeah?” He smirked lazily at you, his demeanor shifting once he realized you weren’t upset, rather the opposite.

“Yeah, but don’t get all cocky, you just nutted from me cleaning your dick.” You challenged, slowly standing up.

“Valid point.” he reached for your waist, pulling you onto the bed and laying you onto your back. He lowered himself onto his stomach, quickly reaching for the hem of your soft shorts and sliding them down your legs.

He positioned himself between your legs, his face inches away from your pussy as he spread your thighs, the only barrier being your quickly dampening panties.

“Let me say thank you for doing such a good job then.”

[aennasan]

Jealous Papa to Baby Emi (Kenji Sato x Reader)

Synopsis: Yep. The title is basically the fic. I had so much fun with this that it became a bit longer than my usual drabbles and imagines.

🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷

Kenji Sato would never admit it but you know him well enough to say that he is a very jealous man.

However, right now, you are 100% sure that he would never admit it, especially because his number one source of jealousy is his very own kaiju daughter, Emi.

He is not even discreet in showing it. Watching him opening his secret fridge and pretending to count his coco water but his eyes and mind was never even tuned in on the task he had at hand.

His eyes kept straying to you and Emi while you're teaching her about human things. Scowling, lip pouting, and his body emitting a vibe yelling, “When’s me? I want to be next.”

You do your best not to notice or smile as his scowl deepens, he is so funny when he is like this.

At first, you thought he was jealous of Emi becoming a Mama’s girl.

The baby imitating the way you will put your hand on your hips if she’s being sassy, raising an eyebrow if his Papa overreacts about something, crosses her arm and rolls eyes if she's rebelling and the best of it all, is copying your crossed legs whenever you sit on the floor.

Yet, you found out that you were wrong when he suddenly wrapped his arm around your waist, nestled his face on the crook of your neck and asked, “How about Papa, Mama? When are you going to spend your time with me?”

It took you by surprise. And all his actions for the past few days are starting to make sense. His intense clinginess, to the point that he would find you wherever you are alone and wouldn't stop touching you. The way he wouldn't let go of a chance to have you sitting on his lap. Cuddling to the fullest before the baby wakes up crying. He would pout and grumble whenever you remove his hand from you.

Your mind goes “Ohhhhh” finally putting the puzzle pieces together, of his out of pocket intense change in showing his affection.

But before you could even answer, Emi is already throwing a tantrum because you turned your back on her while she was practicing and showing you her dance.

“Must be hard being so popular.” Professor Sato joked once when Kenji was busy scolding Emi for prying his arms away from you. She is scowling, head held high, as she crosses her arms, not looking at his Papa who is now yelling, “Bad girl! You don't act like that in front of your Papa!”

“It is harder knowing that the supposed to be eldest is the one who is acting like a kid.” You gave out a heartfelt chuckle and replied.

“Oh! For sure. He is used to having all the attention only to himself. He probably didn't expect that his competitor would be her own daughter.” He smiled as you two continued to watch their exchange which started to get hilarious the longer it takes.

“Baby, how about dinner, just the two of us, this weekend?” You asked the moment you caught his eyes, your hand resting on your hips, lips curved with a sly knowing smirk.

At first, he whipped his head down fast, immediately pretending to still be counting, while mouthing “Oooooh! I must have drunk a lot of augh….coco water.”

But when he heard the magic word, his head whipped up so fast and he started walking towards you like a dog being told “Do you want to go out?” by its owner.

“Really?” He asked. Purple eyes practically shining with hope and excitement.

“Yeah. I missed you. We haven't gone out together on a date for a while.” Your smile softened when he instinctively leaned forward on your hand when you reached for him to cup his face with pure longing and affection.

“Emi?”

“Professor Sato and Mina would take care of her for us.” You cannot help the way your heart flutters when you see his boyish grin which makes his whole face glow with happiness.

You swallowed the twinge of guilt in your heart when you realized how much he must have felt left out and neglected by you these past few days.

You promised that this weekend would just be about you two. The both of you will enjoy the time of your lives, alone together as you two watch the sun dips on the horizon, your head resting on his shoulder, back pressed comfortably on his chest, while his arms wrapped around you, and his hand playing with your palm. It will be relaxing and you melt just by imagining it.

Or so you two tried your best to compromise.

When Emi saw the both of you dressed to the nines— the plan was to just tell her to be a good girl and bid her goodbye before leaving, she probably felt something was wrong, and the moment the two of you stepped on the glass elevator, preparing to leave, she screamed and threw the biggest tantrum.

The whole building shook from her roar. Her feet kicked the floor so hard that you swore it felt like there was an earthquake.

You and Kenji tried to console her but she didn't stop until Kenji promised that you two are not going to leave and Mama and Papa are going to have a dinner date with Emi.

As if knowing she had won, the baby kaiju stopped immediately and gave out the biggest smile.

Yep, you had been fooled.

So now you found yourselves at the side of the beach. Sitting in front of each other with a candlelight dinner. The sky is a beautiful mix of red, orange, and yellow as it slowly dips on the horizon. The perfect color and atmosphere for a romantic dinner date by the beach.

Except, beside your table is Emi’s own table with her fish, who was happy and chirpy as she looked around. Just content to be with her Mama and Papa. Cheery to be included.

“Come on now. Stop scowling. You're going to age faster with those deep frowns on your forehead.” Joking, you cupped his cheek, reached out to his forehead, and ran your thumb to the lines formed from frustration wanting to smooth it out.

With a deep sigh, he leaned on your hand and his lips formed a long pout.

“But how about a dinner date with just the two of us?” He grumbled.

“Hmmm…I guess maybe we could do that once Emi grew a bit more.” You smiled.

“That will be too long.” He sighed. Exasperated.

“How about sneaking out whenever she is sleeping or busy watching your games?” You compromised.

“We can do that.” He hummed, grabbed your other hand resting on the table, squeezed and kissed the back of it.

Sensing that your attention is not on her, Emi stood up, and started clapping and dancing to the new dance she learned. Mina instantly played one of her favorite songs.

“Show off. Mama’s mine either way.” You let out a laugh when you heard Kenji speak in a hush tone not wanting the baby girl to hear it and had another of her tantrums.

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

In-ho as Yandere/Obsess with You (Player) |

This is going to have two versions.

Yandere!In-ho x Fem!Player!Reader

Yandere!Detective!In-ho x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Obsessive!In-ho - Yandere - Power Imbalance - NON CANON EVENTS DOES NOT FOLLOW PLOTLINE - Suggestive parts/NSFW - Manipulation - Grammar mistakes -

Yandere!In-ho its the type of Yandere who first goes into denial over his obsession. Yes, he has read your file multiple times by now. At least ten more times than the other files. He just wants to know all about you.

No, he wont admit it out loud. He would rather pass his little free time in his room looking at the cameras he got around Seoul to keep tabs on you.

Gets angry when he first sees the video of you getting slapped during the recruit time. He may call that centrain recruiter to dispose of him.

While he sees everybody who ends at the games as nothing but low trash (yes even knowing he was part of them once) you are different to him.

You may have ended there for the most stupid reason and yet he wont mind but would feel pity over you.

Will order that the games are easier for you, that the food you get its more healthy and has more cantidad than the rest. But its subtle since he does not want the rest of the players to think you are getting special treatment (you are).

If he sees any player getting too close to you, or its informed by the guards that a centrain player has not so pure desires over you, that one is out. The next game its harder for them.

Will he joy the games to keep a closer eye ? Depends. 

Part of him likes to stay in the shadows, and enjoy the show. You are his Star during these games. The only time he moves the games so you can easily win. He hopes that you feel watched and protected, that when the times comes you will ask to stay with him. He already prepared another room till you are ready to fully move with him.

He becomes so enamored that his actions are off. While usually calculated, with you he wont waste a single time on getting the most cruel deaths for these who  go against you. A traitor? He will tell the guards to keep them alive so he can personally torture him.

The guards prays that you accept on staying with him because his mood has been down and bad the last few games and they need a rest.

There are cameras everywhere, and he uses his position to keep a close eye on you. During night one camera will point at your bed, he passes most of his night watching you. It relaxes him.

NSFW:

He also has a not so saint side, he watches you go to the bathroom to relieve some stress. These are his favorite moments. The sounds and faces you make as you try to get yourself off. He has recording that one and used it multiple times till he is out of cum.

When the games ends and you win, he does things different. Does not send you home at once but rather keeps you in a well secured room with some lame excuse, and what can you do ? This Man has an army behind him.

The Manipulation starts from him slowly getting closer to you, sharing the same interests, faking the same or similar traumatic past.

Yes, you probably resent him a lot. But he is such a good liar, snake tongue and all. That you fall for his lies, how he was forced into this and how when he saw you he could not let someone as precious as you die.

Will take advantage of how emotional drained you are. Offering his ear to listen you rant about different topics from the games to your life.

You are quiet touch starved so he uses these times of vulnerability to hold you close to his chest and caress your hair.

Does give you a bit of freedoom to go and walk around the island, but a guard its with you during all of it.

He is in fact no scared to hurt you in order to keep you by his side. But his favorite way to do it would be forcing a baby inside you. Now dont get me wrong, he WONT force himself on you. He would just casually forget to use a condom and also confuse the anticonceptive pills.

He cant wait to have you all round with his baby. Maybe this is not the best place to raise a kid, but hell does he care ? No. He can make some calls and get things sorted out.

The important part is that you wont be able to leave him.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Now, what if he decides to join the games and be your personal guard dog?

He gets enamored by you from reading your file. Maybe there is a detail that resembles his past and that pulls him towards you. So much that after see you almost die in the first game he cant help it.

He needs to be there for you.

He is the quiet player that goes to you in the first night to probably offer you a shoulder or a ear to rant to. Maybe if you are reserved about it he would sneak some sweets not telling you how he got them.

He is the one who protects you from any player. Specially males that wants to use you for their own pleasure. Most get the hint to not approach you in order to not get their bones crushed.

Its clear you have a special treatment, from how the guards just give you free pass to the bathroom or you seem to get a bit more times in the games.

When others notice that they beg you to team up with them since you are an advantage yourself.

By this point In-ho its your shadow and no one questions it. He will ever start to poison your mind with his ideals. Like how the game are a necesary evil and how if players did not truly want them then these would not happen.

Hell he would even request a voting to show you.

And no matter why you ended there. He would whisper sweet lies in your ear at night telling how you are different and how you are above the rest. No one compares to you. That if you win he is sure you would have an incredible life and make something out of it.

He already has planned on getting you "eliminated", pay up your debt and make you stay with him at the island.

Is he going to tell you who he is ? Well yes. And he does not expect you to fall quick for him. He knows whatever progress he made at the games will be like nothing and he will do even more calculated moves from now on.

And how does he make you fall for him at the games ? Well first he protects you, lets others know that you are off limits. He gives you part of his food, during nights he sleeps close to you till one night a fight breaks and he defends you like his life depends on it.

After it you most likely ask him to sleep with you. At first he may leave some space between both of you since he does not want to push you too quick. However his heart is beating so fast he cant even close his eyes, he may keep an eye on you liking how peaceful you look while you sleep, away of this reality.

He will let you come at him first. Like one night you may have a nightmare and you will end asking if he can hold you.

Of course he says yes. It does not matter how, maybe he will let you put your head on his chest or be the big spoon and cover you with his body.

Its almost a shame how much better he sleeps with you in his arms.

During games if its a game where you must play alone he still keeps himself close to you. When it comes to teams he is there.

NSFW:

The bathroom stalls end being your meet up place to relief some stress.

For you probably at first its just sex. No feelings, to him its so much more.

Its passionate, its dirty. He knows no one will bother since he is there with you. No one is allowed to enter.

How would he take you ? He can easily lift you against the wall, kiss down your neck and collarbone. Will held himself back from marking you. Its going to make you wrap your legs around him as he pushes his hard dick inside you. He wont bother on muffing your moans, no he wants to listen to them knowing he is the cause of them.

If during one of the meetings you want to give him head he wont complain. But wont be soft. He will use your mouth like his personal toy, pulling your head and fucking your troath till he sees tears down your face.

[heliianth]

mini meta because i cant get this fucking scene out of my brain:

its one of my fav Alluka scenes because its a sneak peek into her frankly miraculous emotional intelligence that simultaneously contextualizes it. She's still a little kid. Alluka is a smart cookie who can properly recognize and identify what people are feeling, can generally guess why they're feeling it, and get an idea of what would make them happy. But that "feeling" is hate for her, and what would make them happy is her disappearing. Really heartbreaking.

but the way Killua responds is also pretty fascinating to me? like, he pivots so fucking hard LOL. And I get it, it's such a loaded question. Would the Zoldycks be happier if Alluka was gone? Realistically, the answer is no... but admitting that would require a self-awareness about his family and his abuse Killua doesn't have yet. He probably doesn't even know how to answer, doesn't know what the answer even is.

So instead of digging into that can of worms, Killua cocks his own shotgun and fires back another loaded question: "If I were the only one who loved you in the whole world... would that make you sad?"

There were like a dozen other, much safer ways to both avoid this question and comfort Alluka. It's not even a full dodge, it's directly related to Alluka's fear via implication (the rest of the family doesn't love you). And it's not like Killua hasn't verbally weaseled his way out of tougher conversations. So... why?

I'm gonna try to truncate my full thoughts because I literally have a WIP 5k+ meta about it and I don't want to go down that rabbit hole, but Killua projects onto Alluka and Nanika a lot in this arc. Keeping that in mind, I think this question is his best, most earnest way of comforting Alluka because this train of thought is what's comforted him in the past.

I mean, think about it. Someone who will love and accept you no matter who you are or what you've done? Just one person who doesn't care? He's putting himself in the position of Alluka's Gon-figure here. And if you buy into that, the followup—"I'll always be there for you. Don't worry about anyone else"��reveals how a portion of his subconscious saw his emotionally dependent relationship with Gon as well; that is, as a comforting means to psychologically avoid confronting harder questions about himself, his upbringing, or how other people view him. It's kind of no coincidence that the minute Gon is wholly and totally incapacitated and Killua starts mucking around with the revolutionary idea of boundaries, he immediately starts thinking about his family again (in some manner).

And as an indulgent aside, I want to point out that when he ends up sending Nanika—who is, unlike Alluka, a subject of Killua's darker and more self-hating projections—away and Alluka fights back instead of internalizing it, Killua immediately recognizes the irrationality...

...because it breaks the mirror.

anyway. squeezes and shakes them like squeaky toys

[chellestrash]

Let me handle it.

Frank Castle x F!Reader

summary: After a long day at work you FINALLY get home and Frank decides to offer some help with redirecting your frustrations. warnings: strong language, explicit language, explicit content, pet names, praises, fingering, masturbation, unprotected sex. word count: 3.8k an: Hey heeey, me again...trying to get out of my writers block LIKE ALWAYS! I stg there isnt a fic on this blog that isn't my attempt to try and get back into writing but anyway. This was just something short and sweet I wanted to get out to hopefully get the gears moving again. Let me know what you think! I know the ending feels a bit rushed but I hope its alright. Reblogs and feedback appreciated as always! Hope you'll enjoy! OH and of course, thank you @chelseasdagger for helping with this one and im tagging @lucy-sky cause she requested that!

You push the front door open and sigh loudly at the sight of your apartment. The 8 hours of work felt particularly long today, and you swear at some points you weren't really sure if 5pm was actually going to come after all. The tiredness fills every inch of your body to the point that some parts actually, physically hurt as you get your coat and boots off before making your way over to the living room.

“There she is.”

Frank sits on the big couch in front of the TV, his ‘work’ clothes still on, so you assume it hasn’t been long since he got back as well. He looks better than you feel, though, one leg on the floor, the other propped up on the small coffee table. The TV remote is still in his hands, but you notice how he turns the screen off the second he notes your presence. 

Looking up at the sound of his voice, you do your best to smile in response, but the content expression fails to reach your eyes, and you turn your gaze back to the wooden floor before answering.

You mumble a quiet greeting under your nose and walk past the couch, past him and into the small now, thank god, dark bedroom. 

Frank frowns, turning his head as he watches you cross the living room and disappear behind the bedroom door. It’s not hard to pick up on the fact that something is clearly off. It’s not like you two cling to each other the second you step through the front door, but he knows something about the way you act today just doesn't feel how it should feel. He grunts, pushing himself up from his spot on the couch, and makes his way over to the bedroom.

Back in the small room, you attempt to get rid of your work clothes as fast as possible, longing for the simple yet unmatched comfort of one of Frank’s basic t shirts. You pick the one laying by the end of the bed, the one you knew he currently slept in, and softly pull the work shirt up and off over your head before ditching your bra too and tossing it off to the side. You can't be bothered to clean it up, not right now, probably not tonight. With the t shirt now on, you sit at the foot of the bed. 

A loud sigh exits your body as you attempt to take your pants off, but for some reason, the task proves harder than it would be on any other day. You fight with the fabric for another moment, frantically waving your legs back and forth with no avail before hiding your face in your hands, ready to dig the nails into your flesh with all the pent-up frustration of the week. 

“You need help with that?”

You drag your fingers down your face and turn to face him.

Frank stands in the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest as he leans onto the door frame, and you hope he wasn't here long enough to witness your meltdown. 

“I don’t… know.”

You admit, the overwhelming frustration wins over the slight embarrassment of the previous moment. 

Frank nods before pushing himself away from the door frame. He walks over to the bed without a word, and before you can try to explain yourself, you watch him get down on one knee in front of you with a grunt.

“Alright.”

He mumbles softly, fully kneeling in front of you now. Holding your calf softly in one hand, he pulls the fabric of your pants down your leg before switching to the other one. You watch silently as he gets rid of the clothes for you before tossing them off to the side, to be dealt with at some point during the week. 

“That better?”

He asks softly, and you nod, your body relaxing at the sensation of his fingers brushing up and down the back of your calves softly. 

“Work?”

He asks carefully, feeling the need to figure out what was wrong, but not wanting you to have to think about it again.

Closing your eyes, you sigh softly and nod once more, confirming his previous suspicion. 

“Want me to go out there…make sure this shit is sorted?”

The question makes you chuckle, and you breathe out a quiet laugh as your eyes find his again. He never looked away from you. 

“You gonna go beat the shit out of my boss?”

You finally speak up, pushing your fingers through Frank’s short hair, feeling it prickle your skin slightly as you do so. The familiar feeling somehow grounds you in the moment as you feel more present than before. 

Frank scoffs at your words, looking off to the side for a second before turning back to face you. That god-damn cocky smile makes you smile back at him almost instantly. 

“That what you want?”

He moves his hands up, fingers now brushing over your thighs as he pushes forward slightly, you spread your legs open some more to fit his wide frame between them. 

“I mean if you’re offering.”

You joke, and he breathes out through his nose quickly, shaking his head with a semi playful smile.

“Yeah, okay, you got it, kid.”

He mumbles before leaning down to press a kiss onto your thigh. Closing your eyes, you let out a quiet hum, the wet warmth of his lips present on your skin for a long couple of seconds before he finally pulls away. 

“How ‘bout I make you feel good? Hmm? That sounds okay?”

His voice rumbles through your body as he moves closer to you and the bed, gently lifting your one leg up and over his shoulder before he does the same with the other one.

“Fuck.”

You start, already feeling how your body begins to react to him, the warmth between your legs slowly growing more prominent.

“You don't understand how much I’d love that right now, I just…”

He stops, stops immediately and waits to hear you out.

“I’m too fucking tired to move, Frankie.”

“Who says you gotta do anythin’?”

The way he answers makes it feel like the most obvious thing in the universe, like how he doesn't understand how you could've thought of it in any other way than him giving you all he can offer.

“Shit, you think I’m gonna make you ride it or something?”

He looks up at you from where he's kneeling by the bed, eyebrows pulled together in a frown, as if he genuinely can not believe you’d think that.

“Think I’m gonna make you get on your knees? Suck me off and tell you you’re doing a good job, hmm? That what you think?”

You laugh, shaking your head, knowing he would never make a situation like this about himself. Yeah, you two enjoyed it when things got rough during sex, and you enjoyed ordering Frank around just as much as he did with you, but you both also understood the timing and feeling of this situation. You knew not everything always worked the same, and so did Frank. “If you did, you’d get a fucking knee to your stomach, you got that?”

You state and Frank scoffs once again.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He nods, pressing a kiss to the side of your thigh before helping you slide your legs off his shoulder.

“Alright.”

He starts after pushing himself off the floor.

“Lay down, kid, show me how you want it.”

He gestures to the bed, and you give him a big, bright smile for the first time since getting home from work. Turning your back to him, you climb up to the top of the bed before dropping onto one of the big pillows. With a satisfied groan, you bury your face into the soft fabric and close your eyes for a second before pulling one of your legs up, bending it at the knee. The movement causes the fabric of Frank’s shirt to slowly slide down the slope of your back, exposing both your panties and your ass to the man standing at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah? Like that?"

He asks in that deep, groggy voice, and you nod, rubbing your cheek against the pillow without bothering to open your eyes as you do so.

“Alright.”

He mumbles, and you feel the mattress dip under the weight of his body after a moment. You listen to your body, to its needs and wants, and push your ass out slightly towards him with a quiet, innocent moan.

Frank scoffs loudly, shaking his head as he climbs over you, his arms propped up on either side of your body as he holds himself up above you. 

“Thought you were too tired to pull that shit.”

He points out in a teasing manner, and you crack one eye open slowly, the corner of your mouth pulling up into a playful smile.

“Oh no, I’m never too tired to be a pain in the ass to you.”

You mumble, somewhat to him, somewhat into the fabric of the pillow, before he breathes out a small laugh and leans down to press a kiss right on your shoulder. You watch as the muscles in his arm tense when he's pushing himself up again.

“Yeah, okay, you gonna let me do this or do you want to keep being an ass?”

You grin at the word and glance back at him, but he cuts you off before you manage to say anything.

“Don’t, do not fucking answer that.”

You laugh out loud, but the laughter quickly turns into a deep grunt when Frank pushes his hands against your ass. You feel his fingers digging into your body when he squeezes you tight, and you lift your hips up slightly, pushing into his touch. 

“Yeaaah, s’what I thought, you like that?”

You hum softly and hope it’s enough of an answer as the firm grip on your body disappears for a second, just to come back a moment later. 

“I got you now, kid, s okay."

He grumbles, pushing your legs apart some so he can sit in between them, right behind your ass. Pushing the hem of your shirt up, he gently brushes his fingers over your back. His hands make their way to the sides of your body, fingertips brushing up and down your ribs for a moment, and you let out a loud sigh.

“That’s it, good girl, again.”

You repeat the deep breath in and a calm exhale, allowing him to lead you through this, this one time. Dragging his hands lower and lower down your body, Frank works his fingers over your skin. The firm but gentle sensation of his touch spreads from your back and sides to your ass, then lower onto the back of your thighs and then calves when he reaches his arm behind his back. 

“Mmmm, Frankie”

Your hips push up once again when his thumbs dig into the spot right under your ass, and he breathes out a laugh. 

“Yeah, okay.”

You don’t have to explain it to him, he knows how to read your body. Slowly dragging his thumb over the fabric of your panties, he slips his four other fingers between your legs, cupping your pussy over your underwear. 

You whine quietly, your eyes still closed as he begins to draw small circles against your most sensitive spot, the tension in your body releasing into his touch. 

Humming quietly, you snuggle into the pillow, letting yourself fully relax now as the stress of the day leaves with your satisfied hum.

“Yeah? This what you like? Hmm?”

You push yourself back into his hand, leaning harder into his touch as an answer, and Frank tightens his hold onto you in response. The intensity of the sensation rises as he pushes his fingers harder against you. 

The tired, but honest smile on your face indicates how good of a job he’s doing. Well, that and the way the fabric of your underwear dampens more as the minutes pass by.

“Frank-“

You mumble out quietly, reaching your hand behind your back and hooking your fingers under the hem of your panties.

His touch disappears immediately as he pulls his hands away from your body, letting you dictate exactly what happens. 

He watches you fiddle with the fabric for a moment before you quickly tug it down your thighs and assists once it gets stuck behind your ass.

“Yeah that’s it sweetheart, show me what you want.”

You push your ass up slightly with an inpatient sigh once he slides the fabric down past your ankles and tosses it off to the side.

Once again, his big, warm hands find their way to your back, fingers pressing into your skin as he takes a moment to massage your muscles in your back, and then you feel him push the fabric up higher to tend to your shoulders as well. Feeling the bulge between his legs press into your ass the second he leans down to trace the back of your neck with his lips, you hum satisfied, eyes still closed, lips curled up into a smile. 

“Really, Frankie? That much?”

You tease, and he rolls his eyes at your words, shaking his head with a sly smirk still on. 

“Yeaaah yeah, shut up.”

He starts before leaning back down, his lips right by your ear this time. His hand pushes down between your legs, touching you directly now, and you know he can feel your body’s response to the whole thing.

“Really, kid? This much?” 

You huff out a laugh as a response and reach behind you to wrap your fingers around his wrist and keep his hand in place. 

“Not like it's my fault.”

You mumble quietly and hear Frank’s chuckle from behind you.

“Okay, calm down, just tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want to feel good.”

“Yeah?”

You nod.

“Want me to make you feel good, baby?”

Another nod before you feel Frank’s hand push under your body and cup your chest firmly. His thumb brushes over your nipple as his lips brush down your spine, over your back. Feeling your body slow down, you allow yourself to relax properly as the warm, familiar feeling grows stronger between your legs. 

He pushes his hand right there again, touching you right where you long for it the most.

“Mhmmm.”

You hum quietly, as his three fingers push between your folds before he starts tracing circles around your clit. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling, your body finally relaxing after the exhausting day. Maybe in some other circumstances your mind would slip. If you were alone, if you tried to distract yourself on your own, your mind would wander, but not now. Not with Frank right there in the bed with you. He made it…difficult to focus on anything else, knew how to keep your mind occupied, how to prevent your thoughts from wandering where you didn't want them to go. 

His touch strengthens, and you feel your back arching slightly with a quiet moan slipping past your lips.

“Ah-fuck.”

You grunt the moment his fingers slip inside you. 

“Shh shh shh-”

Frank mumbles quietly, pushing them further in with ease thanks to your body’s intense reaction to his generous attempts to help.

“That okay?”

His low, groggy mumbling continues while he pushes his thumb against you, working on your clit as you feel yourself clenching around his thick fingers. Frank grunts loudly, watching your involuntary response to his question.

“Yeaah, s’what I thought.”

“Mmmmm-you’re pushing it.”

You whisper and he scoffs.

“Yeah? Shit, am I- hmm?”

He lowers the tone of his voice to match yours, leaning back down with his lips right by your ear yet again.

“Just tryna make you feel good, baby.”

He reassures you, watching your lips part as you feel the center of his palm push flat against your center, the wet sounds of your body filling the room slowly as he begins to slip his fingers in and out of your body once, twice, and again, again and again.

You hum loudly this time, biting into your lower lip before you angle your lower back up slightly in an attempt to chase the sensation every time he slips his fingers out almost completely. 

“Frank-”

You start, but he cuts you off, pressing his thumb harder against your clit. 

“Mmm, Frank-”

You repeat yourself with a loud moan before your muscles tense up, and you use the built-up force to push your ass back into him when you feel him slip his three fingers out of your pussy again.

“Ah- Fuck!”

He groans at the unexpected feeling, panting loudly when your ass pushes against the bulge in his pants, and you feel his tight grip on your thighs once you push into him again.

“Shit- okay, okay-”

He does his best to focus once again, and you breathe out a laugh, entertained by the slight shift in the dynamic.

“You okay there, Castle?”

You purr, glancing back to watch the way his eyes focus on your ass, feeling his hips buck up into you slightly. 

“Shit-”

Letting go of your thigh, he reaches up, quickly grabbing one of the pillows lying by your head before lifting your hips up a couple inches above the mattress and sliding it right under your body to help with the angle.

“Good?”

He asks, glancing up at you, the big, brown eyes fixed on yours as he awaits your answer for a moment before you nod quickly. 

“Couldn't have done it better myself.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he drags his hand down your back, stopping right above your ass.

“Yeah no shit-”

You roll your eyes at his words and rest your head back on the pillow, closing your eyes one more time. The sound of the metal buckle of his belt travels through your entire body, and you feel a slight tingling sensation between your legs. Pushing them apart softly, you earn yourself another

“Oh, fuck-”

From Frank, as he now gets to properly see the fruit of his labor. You lay in front of him, naked from the waist down, your legs spread open, your pussy wet from how he touched you before. 

“God damn it, kid-.”

He whispers quietly under his breath. 

“You know how perfect you look? Hmm?”

He asks, working his hand under the waistband of his boxers to pull himself out. 

“I ever tell you that?”

“Once or twice.”

You tease, answering the question without opening your eyes, arching your back slightly to make sure he gets a good view. 

“Ffff-”

You glance back this time, the wet sounds convincing you the view would be worth it, and it is. You watch for a moment as he works his hand over the length of his cock, his lips parted as he pants loudly with every other stroke, his fingers wrapped tightly around his length.

Gradually slowing down the movement, Frank holds onto the base of his cock, lining himself up with your exposed center. You hum softly, and your hips rise off of the mattress the moment you feel the head of his cock between your legs.

“Mhmm, just like that.”

You whisper to encourage him, with a slight note of impatience in the tone of your voice. 

“Yeah? So..s that what you want me to do?”

“Frank.”

You warn him, knowing exactly where this is going.

“What if I just-”

He continues.

“Frank, don't you f-”

He cuts you off, pushing his cock in between your folds and your whole body jerks forward at the sudden, unexpected sensation accompanied by a loud moan that slips past your lips.

“Fr- fuck!”

You swear, gripping the bed sheets before pushing your ass back against his cock, feeling it rub over your center, between your folds and nudging at your sensitive clit. 

Frank laughs loudly, louder than he should in your opinion, considering this was his–and his only–fault. 

“Shiiit kid, didn't mean to get you this bad.”

He attempts to calm your body, his big hand resting on your lower back as he continues to slide his cock in between your folds, teasing your entrance and clit with every single one of your now sped up breaths. 

“Frank, this- isn't helping.”

You whine out, listening to your body, desperate to feel him inside now.

“Give- shit, give me a second here, kid, this-”

He pants louder now, his other hand on your ass, spreading you open for a better view. 

“I swear to god if you come before I get to feel you, I’m sleeping alone.”

He scoffs loudly, hanging his head low as he stops touching himself. 

“That a threat?”

He questions your intentions with that sly smirk on his face, and you prop your chest up slightly.

“Wanna find out?”

You glance back, eyebrow raised.

“Nah, won't risk it.”

He states quietly, his chest rising and falling quickly, his cock hard between your legs. 

“You scared of me, Castle?”

You mumble the question out as you lay back down on the big pillow, feeling the head of his cock right at your entrance now. 

“Yeah, actually, how did you know?”

“Luck guess.”

“Yeah?”

He continues the conversation, pushing his cock inside you slowly. You let your lips part, fall open as you feel him deeper and deeper inside you. You can feel the way it stretches you open, a familiar feeling you got used to since being with Frank. 

“That good? Hmm?”

He asks quietly, leaning slowly over your body as he thrusts into you.

“Mhmmm.”

You hum out a confirmation as the movements continue, you feel your body rocking back and forth with his body, with the bed. 

“Good, wouldn't wanna be on your bad side.”

The thrusts grow stronger as he reaches up to hold onto the headboard, grunting loudly as you clench around him. 

With his cock buried deep inside you, you manage another response.

“Keep doing what you're doing, and you'll be safe.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The trusting continues for a while after, as he tries to do his best to keep it together long enough for you to feel satisfied. His other hand wraps around your throat at some point, and he lifts your head up slightly. Your breathing speeds up, and you pant loudly through your parted lips as you feel yourself getting closer to the climax.

"Attagirl, you feel it?"

He asked, no cockiness in his voice this time. It's an honest question, he sounded almost concerned.

"Mhm."

Your quiet hum has to work as an answer for now as you grip the bed sheets tighter, feeling his cock nude the underside of your stomach from within you.

"God damn it, kid-"

He mumbles into your shoulder, lips brushing over your skin when he feels your walls clenching around him harder now.

"Frank-"

"Shh shh shh, I got it."

He reassures you, resting your head back onto the mattress before reaching down between your legs.

"You just relax, kid, let me do this for you."

[theragethatisdesire]

aot men as dads - headcanon!! some 18+!!

includes: eren, jean, reiner, & levi

i'm still working on some full-fledged one-shots and parts of my series', but i'm nannying for the summer and have BABY FEVER. please enjoy my little headcanons of my fav aot men as dads <3

DISCLAIMER: some of this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

Eren

ok but eren is such a cringe dad lol

buys himself all of the #1 Dad! merch. he’s got mugs, tshirts, hats, all of it, and all of it went on his credit card.

10000% a girl dad. loves all the little dresses and bows; he puts your daughter’s hair in its first bun, nearly tears up when she points at his matching hairstyle and babbles “like da-da!”

you have to parent eren as much as the children. when you turn the corner into the living room where he’s supposed to be having “quiet time” with your toddler only to find that they’re buried in a pillow fort and eren’s signed his own name in crayon on the wall next to your daughter’s scribblings. “babe, we can just repaint it! she’s being creative.”

loves when you’re pregnant. after your first, eren keeps a calendar on the wall marking off the days until it’s safe for him to fuck you again, fuck a baby right back into you. already has a breeding kink before your first. develops a lactation kink after.

TERRIFIED (and i mean terrified) of hurting your little angel. has absolutely zero concept of “cry it out”; if he hears his baby crying, he’s sprinting into the next room, kissing a nonexistent boo-boo.

refuses to admit it but he has no backbone when it comes to your daughter wanting literally anything. she wants it, she gets it.

favorite thing in the world is matching outfits. favorite. “babe, where’s her green hoodie? i’m wearing mine today for the park!” “of course it matters, we have to match! on that note, where’s yours?”

lets your daughter use his hair to learn how to braid. usually has a few pink hair ties or glittery clips sticking out of it when you come home from a mom’s night out.

really big on your baby getting to see the world. drags you on vacation to any place he can think of, even as you try to explain to him that she can’t form any long term memories yet. “but baby, she’ll have pictures. how many kids in her class can bring a picture of them at the eiffel tower to their first show-and-tell?”

accidentally ruins santa and the tooth fairy for your daughter. cries harder than she does over it.

aggressively vets babysitters. ends up settling for a nursing student in the labor & delivery school who’s the oldest of seven children and probably more knowledgeable about child development than both of you combined, but he’s still suspicious.

wants to watch while you push, watch his baby come into the world. you’ve never seen a sweeter sight than eren in his scrubs, crying while holding your baby girl.

Jean

most people picture eren as being the roughhousing dad, but it’s jean, and i will die on this hill.

freaks out every time he drops your first boy while throwing him around like a ragdoll, but he’ll never stop because “listen!! he’s laughing!”. when it comes to the rest of them, he’s experienced enough now to tell the difference between a real booboo and an imagined one, and he simply brushes their little pants off caringly before shouting “now you tackle me!”

jean’s got no gender preference for your first, or the rest of your little brood for that matter. he raises them exactly the same, regardless: tough.

it takes him awhile to get used to the concept of babies’ minds. you’ve walked in on him having full-blown arguments with your shrieking toddlers several times. “what’s not making sense? if you let your goldfish ‘swim’ in the toilet, it dies, simple as that.”

plays “bad cop” for you because you’re terrible at it, but he’s always having to turn around and snicker into his elbow in the middle of scolding because your babies get the same little throbbing forehead vein as you when they’re mad

wants a big family, and gets it. you practically have to drag him to get his balls snipped after your fourth, him reminding you that “it’s reversible!” the entire way there.

the newborn phase is his favorite. he’s rarely home for any longer than ten minutes without scooping your most recent addition into his arms, squishing their little cheeks and marveling at their gurgling noises.

the kids never give him anxiety, but when you’re pregnant??? jean’s a wreck.

“do your feet still hurt, love?” “what do you mean you have indigestion? that could be the baby coming!” “of course we can’t have sex, what if we poke its little head?”

definitely the dad that’s got a delivery bag and a backup bag and an emergency third backup of the backup bag in his car at all times. the first week of your third trimester, he starts watching you suspiciously for any signs of labor, even though this is your fourth together. you think you’ve got it down by now, you tell him, but he won’t listen.

always gets the kids to work together on little surprises for you. every mother’s day they wake you up with breakfast, every valentines day your dining room table is covered in handmade cards, every birthday your kitchen is coated in flour from jean and four little ones attempting to bake

SO HARD to drag him out for a date night. he wants to bring them everywhere: the fancy restaurant, the couples' get away trip

jean's that dad standing in the bar, watching the game, beer in hand, with an occupied baby carrier strapped to his chest

wants to watch during delivery, but he passed out the first go-round, so now he’s content standing up by your head, trying not to turn white as you squeeze his hand hard enough to break.

talks you into just one more on your fourth’s second birthday. “they’re all so big now. don’t you miss it, babe? my baby in your belly? c’mon…” turns out he reversed that vasectomy without telling you

Reiner

another girl dad. hardcore girl dad.

buys his little princess all number of dresses and barbies, is confused when she’s more interested in the baseballs her classmates have.

accidentally raises the most tomboyish, toughest little girl. still babies her, and she hates it.

cries more than you do on your first date night out when you leave her with your mom. forgets to order his entree at the restaurant because he’s watching the baby monitor app on his phone.

definitely the best at splitting baby duties with you. reiner’s up before you most nights when she wakes, grabbing a bottle and cooing at her lovingly even as she screams. you always try to stay awake to watch him on the baby monitor, though, heart melting as his massive arms rock the tiny bundle back to sleep.

all the neighborhood kids love him because of his size. at every cookout, reiner can’t help on the grill because he’s buried in the grass in a little army of toddlers, led by your daughter, shrieking with joy.

always taking pictures. literally always. unflattering ones when you fall asleep breastfeeding, candids at the zoo, eighteen identical pictures of the lock of hair from her first haircut clogging up his camera roll.

can’t be the bad cop. literally ever. he just can’t say no to his little princess, can’t break her precious little heart by telling her that throwing her food onto the floor is bad.

takes your daughter to mommy & me classes with him

DILF DILF DILF. all the moms in the classes swoon over him and gossip about him when he’s not there; much to your annoyance, reiner never notices, insisting that they’re his “mommy friends”.

always sporting a little bit of glitter on his face or a sticker on his back from your daughter

coming from a fatherless background, reiner nearly kills himself trying to be a constant presence in your daughter’s life (you have to remind him that he has to rest too)

never misses an open house night at school, even if it nearly gets him fired. coaches all of her sports teams. literally almost cries when she makes her first soccer goal. actually does cry when she tells you the boy sitting beside her in class called her his girlfriend. full-blown breakdown on her first day of school, so bad he has to stay home from work.

the absolute BEST through your pregnancy and delivery. always cooking your craving of the week, constant foot and back rubs, stays up all night with you for the three days before the birth when you’re just too swollen and miserable to sleep.

holds your hand through the entire delivery, gets in the doctors’ way when they’re performing checkups because “i’m her father, i need to know what’s going on”

Levi

levi never pictured himself as having children, but when your little surprise arrives, blinking up at levi with his own grey, owlish eyes, levi can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

very easily irritated with anyone asking questions about your home life.

when his coworkers ask for your newborn’s name, levi simply says “child.” are you two trying again? “why the fuck do you need to know?”

super overprotective. your baby waves at someone in the supermarket, and levi’s leaning down to explain (in words your eight-month-old can’t yet understand) stranger danger.

totally one of those parents that goes half-crazy trying to get their child into the top-notch, snobby preschool in town.

“we’re not wasting his intelligence on the public school”

levi grew up with basically nothing, so he goes all out buying the best baby products on the market. $2,500 strollers, researching “best baby toys for development”, the whole nine yards.

100% spends months trying to get your child to make a game out of picking up his own toys after playtime, but it never works.

has a meal plan for your child to “optimize nutrition” that you have to sneak around to give your baby little chocolates and junk snacks.

“why are there pringles in his playtime bag? they have no nutritional value.”

vets anyone that comes around your child, even other children. “no more playtime with that evan kid. he’s always got a cold or something.”

he’s always been a light sleeper, but once you have your child, levi snores beside them watching kids’ cartoons on the tv like you’ve never seen him, even drooling as his head lolls, arm tucked tight around your little one.

learned everything he could about labor and delivery beforehand

you almost killed him in the delivery room as he explained each medical detail of your labor symptoms to “reassure” you. he finally got the hint when you threatened to decapitate him.

he thinks it’s shameful, but watching you be a mother turns. him. on. 

wants to take you right there when he catches you breastfeeding, watches you read a bedtime story, spin your child around laughing. you’re just so naturally good at it and it makes him love you all the more, all that love going straight between his legs.

[4pfsukuna]

Can you write a Terry one shot in which him and reader have a pregnancy scare? Like at one point the condom broke but they were both too into it to realize or stop. They're fwb and after it's revealed she isn't pregnant, they admit they have romantic feelings and maybe eventually having a family together wouldn't be a bad idea. Then jokingly Terry says let's go back to practicing lmao. I guess it's smut then angst and ends with fluff (or more smut if you like lmao)

ooh sistah you ate with this request, ngl i finished it 2 days ago but couldnt find your anon ask but here we go:

Debrief: Terry shows you hes a man in every sense of the word, from how he fucks to how he cares about you.

Hennessy was probably thee worst alcohol you could drink with terry. Now he was a military man and they can drink anybody under the table time and time again but something about the dark cognac turned him into an absolute monster that man wanted nothing more than to claim you on every surface from his apartment to yours across the hall. Your body was marked from neck to ankle in bites and hickeys Terry claiming that you were all his and making sure anybody that saw you knew.

“Show me its your baby” he moans with a fucked out expression as you ride his dick feeling full to the brim. His green eyes dark with lust as he watches you never dropping eye contact obsessed with the glossed over look in your eyes. 

“Come on baby girl you can do better than— fuck” he moans when you get up on your tip toes and tighten a hand around his throat yeah yall were both gone off the henny. The squelching sound getting louder as his thumb comes down to rub your clit and you swear you see his pupils turn into hearts at the sound.

“Tell me its mine and stop fucking playing with me” you snap riding faster as your own hand comes down to play with his balls that were already drenched in your juices and he smirks leaning forward so his forehead is against yours.

“Oooh feeling bold huh? You know better than talking to me like that” he threatens spanking your clit but it does that opposite and instead turns you up making you ride harder and faster pulling matching groans from the both of you. 

“This shit is mine” you moan out and it was suppose to be a statement but the way his tip was kissing your cervix you knew it was a loosing battle but he loved watching you fight back that turned him on more than anything.

“Earth to you bitch, clock back in and tell me what bathing suit you think i should wear” your bestfriend huffs snapping her fingers in your face and you playfully push her hand away before looking at the outfit options she had laid out on your bed. The same one that he had you laid out on. You couldnt even help the sex flashbacks it was just something about fucking that man that had your brain turn to mush even days later.

“Girl this shit is floss, if you dont pick out something in your actual size” you laugh holding up one of the thongs helping her get ready for her pool party that absolutely nobody was going to be swimming at. She shoots you a playful look as she snatches the bright pink bottoms from your hand.

“Let me just try it on and show you” she tells you before running back to the bathroom and you let your mind wander again leaning up against the vanity chair her makeup flat iron and hair tools splayed around. Your eyes catch yourself in your floor to ceiling mirror that you had him carry up a week ago when it finally came in the mail.

“Its yours! F-fuck dont stop baby dont nghhh dont stop” he moans his lips finding a empty spot on your neck to leave another hickey. His hand on your hip tightens as you throw your ass back on him matching his thrust like yall were trying to out fuck another you couldnt even tell how many times yall came let alone you did just that your legs were soaked down to your knees.

Watching him through the mirror you cant help but to admire how fine he looks as his head rolls back and his bottom lip is in between his teeth, from the way his abs clench to his muscles flexing when he raises his arm to take another shot from the bottle giving you the most demonic smirk. 

His left hand wraps around your neck pulling you up so your back is against his chest head tilted up squeezing your cheeks to open your mouth before spitting the shot in your mouth fucked out expression turning soft when he watches you swallow.

“Shit, its yours” he slurs kissing down your neck pushing your hand out the way so he could play with your clit himself. “And this is mine”

For yall to only be friends who fuck from time to time yall loved to play the possesion game. Marking another up, claiming another during sex even right now fucking without a condom was crazy.

“Shit youre so tight, just for me so fucking perfect” he starts rambling and you know hes close everytime he was he would start with his pussy drunk confessions and while it absolutely turned you on it also hurdled you into an orgasm. Your body was starting to feel weak, muscles aching and pussy sensitive. He lets out another groan when you clench your core basically Milking him.

“Fuck fuck fuck im bout to—“ he starts and the henny completely takes over like two evil little demons on your shoulder filling you with wicked whispers in your ears except the demon is you. Terry is confused when you twist in his arms and you're on your back until your legs wrap around his waist pulling him back into you. 

“You going to cum for me daddy? Your dick feels so good when you fuck me like this. Feel so full” oh and does that unlock something in him, you NEVER spoke like this. Atleast not by this point you were too fucked out and only able to let out high pitched whines and moans.

“You are so fucking fine i love watching you, love the way your skin feels against mine, love hearing you moan for me. Love your body” you moan as you fingers trail over his arms slowly pulling him closer watching the way his eyes roll back. Oh you were talking TALKING. He was so far gone he doesnt hear anything else only feels the tight warmth of you wetness and the consistant  thump of your thrust his head finding your shoulder.

Its only when your nails begin dragging down his back causing him to shudder a deeper thrust in you that has you fall just as far as he did and your legs tighten around his hips pulling him so much closer to you to whisper in his ear.

“Cum in me daddy”

“Ok im wearing this, i just wish you werent on your period so you could come with us tonight” your bestfriend returns with a bathing suit top jean shorts and heels. She definitely looked like a baddie—

Hold on, you werent on your period. Now that you think about it you were suppose to come on two days ago.

Oh fuck.

OOOOOH FUCK.

You don’t want your bestfriend to worry, or panic or miss out on the party especially since she spent so much time, effort and money so you nod with a fake pout but adjusting her bikini bottom straps to stick out the top of her shorts.

“If you have to represent us i need your foot on the hoes necks”

Standing in the cvs aisle you look at all the different pregnancy test, this was your fourth time in this aisle you had a different brand pregnancy test for each time you walked down already and a bottle of water. 

What you don't expect is to hear your name being called from behind you and you know that voice you know its the man who's very fault is the reason why you're in this aisle.

“Not right now, i'm not in the mood” you snap looking over the boxes again and again until he steps up behind you watching the nervousness build on you. Your hand was already shaking so any question he had died on his lips the moment he realized this was for you and not anybody else.

“So you wasn't going to call me?” He ask taking the four boxes from your hand and throwing it in his basket with the two boxes of condoms he originally came in for. That was a stupid question, you were already here with your own thoughts brewing of course you weren’t going to call him.

“Why didn’t you call me, you know we’re friends above anything” he tells you looking down at you and you avoid eye contact. That was why; yall was just friends… that fucked. You didn’t want to face reality with him and have that conversation. Didn’t want to do the whole coparenting thing never seen that for yourself you wanted a family not wanting a broken home. You were pro choice but— damn your thought process hadn’t even made it this far. 

You felt nauseous.

“Hey hey hey breathe for me, it's going to be okay. We're going to be okay” he promises, kissing your forehead and holding your face in his hands, his eyes flickering down to your lips so fast you swear you imagined it. 

“Let's just see what it says first okay?” And he waited for you to agree, pulling you into a safe hug, his natural cinnamon scent enveloping you and you never wanted to leave his arms. “Let's be where our feet are, no worrying about the future”

Biting your nails as you sit on the couch your feet tucked under you in silence as every single thought runs through your head of what the outcome is. Hoping for the best, prepare for the worst.

Terry sits next to you, arms resting behind his head and sits in silence as the two of you wait for results though unaware to you, the silence is killing him.

“Is this the part where we talk about baby names?” He asks not expecting your mean glare but it only makes him chuckle. He pulls your feet from under you and into his lap massaging your calves watching the way you physically relax.

“Terry this is serious, i'm scared” you finally admit biting at your nails only stopping when his large hands pull yours into his he looks like he’s about to confess but the timer goes off sending you flying to the Bathroom.

Negative.

Negative.

Inconclusive.

Negative.

“So are we having twins?” He ask coming around the corner looking at you through the mirror, just like he did last week and that's what got yall in this position in the first place. Wait, twins?

Hold on… We?!

You don't realize you spoke out loud until he begins speaking again eyes never leaving you.

“Yes we, i don't really think me being a single dad of twin girls would be easy so we” he tells you pulling your hand so he could see the negative results before looking back at your face. You are completely lost for words because what? Had he been hoping for positive results?  the fact that even if you wanted to bail he didn’t.

“You wanna be a girl dad?” You finally get out eyes lighting up and he chuckles at your expression picking you up, his muscles flexing up against you as he carries you out the bathroom back to the living room.

“Having 1 or 2 mini versions of you running around in a big yard with a nice house close enough to the city so they could go to a good school i'm thinking private school—“ he starts to ramble and you start to feel like the lady who has all the equations floating around her head because how did yall get here?

“Wait” you blink rapidly before looking up at him, a small smile coming to your lips even though you're still confused.

“I can't see you driving a minivan though maybe those bmw sedans in all black. They are not reliable cars but you a lil boujee so i’ll take care of it for yoh and you so fake stubborn but thats okay just one of the things that made me love you hopefully our daughters don't have that though and just come straight to me. You think they'll—“ his words are cut off when you place a hand over his mouth stopping him and his eyes drop down to your tiny figure in his lap.

Twins? Yard? Big house? Bmw coupe? Well that actually sounded nice? Wait he was speaking so fast your mind was a real soup sandwich after that.

“You love me?” You ask, face scrunched up, not just letting that slide by. You can feel his smirk under your hands and honestly you aren't ready to move them because you're scared for him to repeat that. Your insides were bursting, heart racing and breathing heavier— more nervous than before finding out the results of the pregnancy test.

He can tell you're trying to process and this may be one of the only times he ever shuts you up with his words. You had a slick tongue and never let him have the last word.

Pulling your hands down from his mouth so he can fully confess he holds your hands against his chest making sure to keep eye contact.

TWINS?!

“Yes, i love you” he kisses the back of your hands waiting for you to respond. Its not like he told you he just liked you or something nah love was a big thing and maybe it was his fault for this whole friends with benefits situation anyway but he wanted more. He wanted you. 

“You don't gotta say it back just yet but i would like to at least take you out on a date. If you couldn't tell i want you and everything that comes with you… whatever comes with you” Terry gives you that lopsided ass grin shocked when you press your lips against his but he wastes no time kissing back softly. His hands find your face as your lips move against another. Just another thing that turns you into a bigger puddle than you already were.

“Wait twins?” You pull back and he smiles at nothing laying back pulling you down to his chest using the throw on the back to pull over you so youre warm.

“Or 10, we can actually start practicing right now” he casually shrugs making you sit up grabbing his attention. 

“Im not pushing out ten fucking kids terry” you laugh laying back on his chest pushing your hands up his shirt to feel his warm skin choosing to purpousely ignore his comment about practicing now.

“Alright fine 6” he sucks his teeth as if he was the one that had to push out kids and you shoot him a playful glare.

“How we go from twins to 6, you was pushing it with twins” you laugh so hard your vision blurs from the tears building because he was funny as hell if he thought you were pushing out more than 3.

“So is that a no on twins?” He ask as if you can decide if you have twins or not, hes so hellbent on it though you start to actually consider the thought.

“I would like to be married and have a house first” You tell him realistically. Before you have kids you want to be stable and want to have somewhere to have them. Anything built on a rocky foundation is doomed to crumble and you wouldn't set your future let alone your kids up like that. They need a stable and loving environment.

“Silver or gold?” He ask referencing what type of ring you would like before taking note of the tennis chain On your neck with the matching anklet. He doesn't wait for your answer either… he already knew. Just like he knew you'd be confused by him asking that.

“You haven't figured it out by now that i'm crazy about you? You can have anything you want from me all you gotta do is ask”

“Tell me you love me again”

yall omfg imagine terry as a girl dad!! Of twins! Yall think he would be super overprotective and ready to kill or a pushover for them or both? Damn now i kinda wanna write him as a dad🥹

lmfao bitch imagine having a pregnancy scare and he keeps talking about having twins bro id deadass never get pass that

[euphemiaamillais]

everybody knows that i’m a good girl, officer - coriolanus snow

in which peacekeeper!coryo teaches you a lesson after he finds you out after curfew.

cw: 18+//gun play//blowjobs//name-calling//misogyny//piv sex//slapping//hair pulling//rough sex

you feel something cold press against the back of your head, and hear the sound of something click. his finger hovers on the trigger; he’s not afraid to use it to get what he wants. a district girl is beneath him, but the way you’re wearing such a tight little dress has to be on purpose. the way you’re flaunting yourself, and after curfew at that.

he just has to remind you who’s in charge here.

‘you shouldn’t be out at this time,’ his voice is cool, but stern. you feel him grip at your waist; trapping you in his clutch. there’s no way you can hop off now, bunny.

‘i’m sorry,’ you offer, a little disgruntled that he’s got you like this. you can’t see his face, but you know he’s a peacekeeper. after all, you shouldn’t really have taken a walk so close to their barracks.

‘i don’t think you’re very sorry,’ he spins you around, gun now pointing at your pretty little neck.

his eyes are piercing blue; so much so that you are able to make them out in the moonlight. his platinum blonde buzzcut is visible too, as well as a noble, aquiline nose. he’s clearly been shipped in from the capitol. you’ve seen him around before, with that other peacekeeper, the one who hardly looks like he belongs.

‘i am, sir,’ you state firmly, trying to wriggle away from him. you know it’s best to not provoke them, but you really just want to get home. all you’d done was take a walk for some fresh air—it had been a long day at the market.

‘oh, really?’ he cocks a brow, and runs the end of the gun along your jawline, tracing over the smooth skin. your heart leaps in your chest. for some reason, you’re strangely excited by the gun. the fact that at any second, he could shoot you. but you know he wouldn’t. how could he? you’re so pretty, and perhaps he’ll just have to teach you a lesson.

‘yes,’ you’re not offering him more than a one or two word sentence, wanting to be off as quick as possible. you’ve heard stories about what some of the peacekeepers do to girls who don’t obey them…

but deep down, a part of you wants to find out.

‘hm,’ he purses his lips, moving the gun down your neck, tracing over the two collarbones which stand out—a reminder that you’re district, and weren’t raised on the gourmet luxuries of capitol.

‘now, sir, if you’d let me go,’ you begin, but he stills, and wraps his free hand around your wrist, clenching at the delicate bones. if he presses even a little harder, you’re sure you’ll hear a crunch.

‘oh, i don’t think so,’ he grins, moving his grip up your arm, feeling the exposed skin.

you’ve got goosebumps from the cold, and perhaps the way he’s touching you. your thighs burn with heat. some strange part of you wants him—wants to find out just what he’ll do to a girl like you who’s been breaking the rules.

‘i think, somebody needs to be taught a little lesson about disobeying orders,’ he taunts, and slides his gun back into its holster, only so he can have both his hands on you.

‘oh, i’m disobedient now, am i?’ you admit that you’ve given quite a lot of cheek, but you like this peacekeeper. he’s different—he’s playing a game with you, and perhaps you’re just willing enough to walk right into his trap.

‘don’t be smart with me, doll,’ he quips, and you shut your mouth, not particularly wanting to end up roadkill.

he leads you down the path, towards the back gate of the barracks. you follow—well, it’s not like you have a choice, he’s gripping your arm so hard you’d probably have to break it to free yourself. the pebble road crunches under your feet, and you feel a strange excitement creeping up your spine. the cool air kisses your skin, bringing about a pretty flush to your cheeks, and yet you can’t help but wonder if you’re blushing from the way he’s holding you.

it’s silent when he pushes the gate open, taking great care to be quiet. he casts you a knowing look, and you try your best to be absolutely silent. god knows what fifty peacekeepers would do if you were caught sneaking in.

it’s a little filthy, the fact that you’re letting him take you like this. you’re not begging and pleading for him to let you go, like the other girls do when he catches them stumbling home after an encounter with a lover, or perhaps innocently picking flowers along the side of the road. no, you’re different. you want this, he can see it in your eyes, the way they’re blown wide as he drags you through the door of the barracks.

he presses a finger to your lips, and guides you to the last bunk. it’s strangely quiet, you can’t hear any stirring, and realise that you’re completely alone. he must’ve planned it, the fucking bastard—picking a pretty girl from the side of the road while the rest of the peacekeepers are out in town.

‘what are you going to do to me, officer?’ you feign an innocent look, biting your bottom lip.

he shoves you onto your knees, and you stumble a little, given the fact that you’re wearing an uncomfortable pair of shoes—clearly you hadn’t really been taking a late night walk in those heels.

‘oh, don’t pretend you’re so innocent, dressed like that,’ he eyes the way your dress clings to your breasts, barely covering the ample cleavage. obviously you were hoping to catch someone’s attention.

you can’t help but giggle, though you’re soon quietened by the feeling of his gun pressing against your forehead; cocked and ready to fire. his hand isn’t even trembling, and he looks down upon you sternly.

‘it’s not funny,’ he scolds, clicking his tongue in displeasure. ‘you think you can just traipse about at any time of the night without consequences? you’re lucky i’m so nice. any other peacekeeper would’ve shot you on site.’

he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear with the gun, and you tremble, beginning to feel a little afraid. he’s so much larger than you, and now that you’re on your knees, you can see the outline of his cock straining uncomfortably against the trousers of his uniform.

‘i think it would be such a shame though, for a pretty girl like you to have a bullet put through her head,’ he muses, puckering his lips. ‘i just wanted to put my cock in you and show you how little you’re really worth, what being district scum and all. it’s pathetic, thinking that you can just get away with doing whatever you want.’

your knees are aching already, and a little greedily, you reach out your hands and begin to unzip his trousers. you’re met by a slap clean across your cheek, which stings and causes a few tears to prick at the corners of your eyes.

‘don’t fucking touch me unless i tell you!’ he yells, and he doesn’t have to say it again to get it through your head. the red mark forming on your cheek is enough of a reminder.

‘god dammit,’ he spits, readjusting the grip he has on the gun. you look so pathetic, trying not to cry. he can’t believe you tried to tell him what to do—don’t you know that little district whores like you don’t get a say? he’ll be sure to fuck that into you. obedience can always be taught—especially when you’re being pounded like a common whore.

he unzips his trousers himself, tugging them down to his knees, and then removes his white boxers, revealing a large, veiny cock that looks in dire need of relief. your mouth can’t help but to water, and he doesn’t even need to tell you to open your mouth, you’re that desperate to have it inside of you.

he slides the tip of his cock past your plump lips, which are wet with saliva, and you begin to diligently suck. he can’t help but groan, still pressing the gun prettily against your head, liking the surge of power it gives him, holding your life in his hands. one wrong move, one attempt to disobey him, and you could be dead. of course, it would be so fucking messy to clean you up. a sticky pool of blood and brains. even that was too much for him.

‘god, you fucking whore,’ he groans as you move your tongue deftly up and down his shaft, taking care to pay special attention to the rigid veins. you’ve done it enough times to know how to really make a man squirm.

the threat of a gun at your head is somehow making your palms burn with want, and heat to pool at your core. you want nothing more than his big cock to stretch you out and fill you with his hot, sticky cum.

‘you like that, don’t you? taking my cock like the little slut you are,’ he bucks his hips a little, forcing his cock further down your throat.

this time you really gag, not like with the other men where you have to stroke their egos. his cock is a choking hazard. you suck in a breath through your nose, and continue to wrap your lips around his shaft, bobbing your head up and down. you gaze up at him with bleary eyes, but he grabs a fistful of your hair and forces your head down further.

real tears spring to your eyes, and begin to trickle down your cheeks as you take all of him in. he doesn’t even give you the opportunity to use your hands, and you can feel his balls slapping against your chin as he fucks your throat.

you’re clutching at his legs, attempting to centre yourself while he’s brutalising your throat. he’s barely letting you put in the work now, his cock pulsing with desire. he’s so close, he can feel it, and he wants to cum right down your pretty throat.

he cries out, thrusts slowing, your throat utterly bruised and battered, and seconds later you feel him spilling his hot load. you swallow it all, showing him just how obedient you are, and he pulls out, watching as spit dribbles down your chin. you look so helpless, a dumbfounded look in your eyes, cum dribbling from your puffy lips.

‘get up!’ he commands, using the gun to gesture to the bottom bunk of one of the beds.

you scramble around for a second, knees aching, and just as you find your balance, he pushes you flat on your stomach against the bed. you feel his hands on your ass now, sliding over the cheap fabric of your dress, tugging it up at the hem to reveal your panties. god, you really are a little whore, wearing black lace panties. you’re just begging to be fucked.

‘i haven’t finished teaching you your lesson yet,’ he remarks, cool fingers tracing over your slick folds. ‘i don’t think you’ve been very obedient.’

you shake your head, trying not to gasp as he slips a finger inside your hole. he can’t believe how tight you are, considering you’ve probably sold yourself to half the men in district 12. he slips another finger in, feeling generous, curling it up in just the right spot.

you mewl, and he slaps your ass, in utter disbelief that you think that you can enjoy what he’s doing. whores don’t get to cum, no, they get to take what they’re given. he’ll make sure of that.

his cock is already hard again at the thought of getting to bury himself in you, and he’s hasty about pulling your panties down. you adjust yourself a little, and he groans at the sight of your wet hole, trickling with slickness. jesus, how fucking desperate were you?

‘so fuckin’ hard,’ he grunts, grabbing his cock with one hand and sliding it into your cunt without any time for adjustment.

you let out a heavy breath, feeling his big cock stretch you out—you’re thankful you’re not a virgin. he begins to slide in and out, building up a solid pace. when he hears you gasping, and sees that you’ve got your fingers at your clit, he reaches forward and pulls you up by your hair, causing you to lose your way with your hands.

‘what did i say, hm? you obey me, and clearly you can’t fuckin’ do that,’ he hisses, tugging your hair so hard that you feel your scalp prickling.

he shoves you back down again, and this time you don’t dare to touch yourself, no matter how much your cunt throbs with want. you accept his punishment, and let him pound into you, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the barracks.

you’re such a whore, the way you gasp at all the right times as his big cock stretches around your tight walls. he bets you’ve taken cock hundreds of times, but he’s determined to be the best, making sure you know what you’re worth—which is nothing. you’re so beneath him, you’re the fucking dirt on his shoe, and he won’t hesitate to polish you off if you don’t do as he says.

he’s really pounding you now, hands gripping roughly at your hips in an attempt to drive himself further into your cunt, watching as your pussy leaves a milky ring around his base. his dog tags dangle in his face as he bends down to shove himself deeper into you, and the jangling reminds you that he’s the one in charge here. you’re just a poor little girl from the districts, and he’s got the authority. he could do whatever he wanted to you, and he’d get away with that. he won’t let you forget.

‘god, you’re taking me so well,’ he grunts, bucking his hips in pleasure. ‘such a fuckin’ whore though.’

he pulls at your hair again, and you groan, feeling your head snap back a little. he’s fucking you so hard, and while you’re enjoying it, you do have to admit there’ll be bruises on your hips and thighs come tomorrow morning. you’re not mad about it though, liking the thought that you’re all his.

‘have you learned your lesson, hm?’ he asks, snapping his hips against your ass, chasing the peak that is building up as your walls clench around him.

‘yes,’ you mumble, dumbfounded. your brief answer is unsatisfactory, however, and earns you another slap across the ass. this one leaves a pretty red hand print, a memento from him.

‘yes what?’ he eggs, rubbing his hand against the other cheek, ready to strike again if you don’t give him the answer he wants.

‘yes sir,’ you cry out, beads of sweat clinging to your forehead as he slams into you.

‘good girl. that wasn’t so hard now, was it?’ he inquires, and you shake your head lazily.

he’s going so hard now you’re not sure if you can take it, and you clutch desperately at the corner of the bed, whining. though you don’t dare beg him to stop, afraid of what he’ll do. he slams into you one last time, and feels himself come undone. he spills his spend into your wet cunt, hot spurts of cum filling you up. another pathetic district girl taking his load. he smiles to himself.

‘you loved every second of that, didn’t you?’ he pulls out of you, watching you turn around and face him, dress up around your waist, hips speckled with fresh bruises from where he’s gripped you.

‘yes sir,’ you answer back, and he offers a smirk in return, never happier to hear that name on your lips.

now you know just exactly what peacekeepers do to pretty girls that don’t obey them.

[indulgentdaydream]

Hello luv, first of all... I LOVE NURSE!READER!!! OH god the last lines were soooooo heartwarming for my social worker heart!! LOVE LOVE IT 🩷🩷

So, may I request a Jason x reader again but with a little something... Jealous Jason because reader and Roy know each other longer than Jay and reader and then he gets all jelly and and—! Oh god I love a jealous petty man.

Missy when she fucks up the queue and queues this post for NEXT YEAR by accident 🫣🙃 NEXT YEAR?? LIKE THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED LAST FRIDAY AND I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE THAT IT DIDN'T GO UP

anyways AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH your words are already heartwarming ♥️

I loveeee jealous jason imma cook this up so quick just you wait and see (i wrote this when i first made the draft and i found it funny to leave it. It’s literally been a month I’m so sorry)

I also made this into headcanons because I had a VISION and did not think to give it any justice. (koi youre seriously my number 1 supporter i hope you enjoy this garbage I just threw up, really)

Pining!Jealous!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: slight jealousy (not too overly consuming), alcohol consumption

Roy had invited Jason to hang out at the bar

Bros being bros

except...

Roy brought you along (because he KNOWS Jason has got a fat crush on you whether or not he’s told him)

(He tried to convince roy it’s not a crush, but always fails because his whole demeanour changes when you walk in the room)

examples:

he's always going to be standing beside you, consciously or not

jason isn't always a tense guy. But he for sure isn't as long as you're talking to him/looking at him/etc. (but if you put your hand on his arm/touch him in any way, it's game over)

your name is brought up, he's listening SO INTENTLY

like a dog when it hears its favourite word

Anyways

The three of you are sitting in a booth

It was originally you and roy before jason showed up, the two of you on either side

Jason shows up and just sits right next to you. No hesitation.

You and roy are laughing away, recounting stories and telling jokes.

Jason is just... really quiet

unusually quiet

He doesn’t look at you guys, rather looking out across the bar, trying to hide the fact he’s feeling this way

That he's feeling unreasonably jealous of his best friend

who literally brought you FOR JASON

He knows it’s stupid. He trusts both of you. You two are the two people he trusts the MOST

He hates that he’s like this, but he can't help it

Roy's better than him. You've known him for longer. He's making you laugh harder than Jason ever has. He's better looking, too. Older. More experienced.

His thoughts are clogging up his head. He's really not listening anymore, just holding his beer, eyes scanning the bar floor, watching the other patrons.

Then Roy is standing in front of him, saying something about using the bathroom.

He is giving a VERY pointed look at Jason.

a "make conversation with your crush or I'm shoving an arrow down your throat" kind of look

Jason felt a little stab of genuine anxiety shoot through him.

He's talked to you alone before. Many times. You two were friends, of course. He doesn't know why this is how he's feeling right now.

Then your hand is resting on his forearm.

Poor boy is still so caught up in his head he just looks down at your hand for definitely a second too long before finally meeting your gaze

Your gaze with those stupidly pretty eyes.

Then comes that horrendously pretty voice, "You alright?"

He nods. Shrugs. Like a stupid teenager who doesn't know how to handle his emotions.

He has to admit he's still a little tense about your attention being focused more on Roy. But not to you. He'd never admit it to you. You'd probably find it unattractive and then he'd really never have a chance.

“Yeah, no, im enjoying the talking. Always forget how well you and roy know each other”

“Oh yeah he just knows how to get me going. You know how he is”

Jason doesn’t know how he does it.

Like some leap of faith.

Some, jealousy super-powered leap.

He tries to be non-chalant about it.

“It’d be nice to do this again sometime. Maybe without Roy around.”

BOY'S HEART IS POUNDING

Sipping on his beer, looking down at it instead to avoid eye contact with you so he doesn't lose his cool.

Or someone show on his face that he is actually shitting bricks

You don't respond for a second and the alarm bells start going off in his head

WHY DID I SAY THAT WHY DID I SAY THAT WHY DID I SAY-

"It would be nice," you say, "Could we make it a date instead?"

He's smiling, turning to nod at you, "Course we can."

But his internal dialogue is just straight screaming at himself

"IDIOT YOU SHOULD'VE MADE IT OBVIOUS YOU WANTED IT TO BE A DATE IN THE FIRST PLACE"

The things jealousy will make you do

Roy comes back and sits down

Jason's into the conversation now

It doesn't really matter that Roy is still making you laugh

because he's not the one holding your hand under the table

AH I HOPE YOU LIKE -missy

I also love a jealous petty man (as long as it doesn't become toxic and he doesn't use it as an excuse to be an asshole)

[seeingivy]

so high school

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my gojo as taylor songs series

an: so sorry to the dream girl fans, had to expedite this one. taylor as gojo anon its your lucky day.

--

you were always under the impression that people like satoru gojo were perfect. 

flawless even. 

at times, you were even inclined to think that it was unfair; that some people were born with perfect looks, charming personalities, with intellect and intelligence to match. that they didn’t have to struggle. 

though it seems at the current moment, you stood corrected. because the so-called rumors that you had heard about satoru – that he always participated in class, that the teachers loved him – they might have still stood true, but the underlying implication that was always insinuated, that he was naturally intelligent, wasn't. 

it slightly cracked a sheen into the persona. you wondered if the girls in your english literature class would still giggle about him the way they did under their breaths if they knew. though knowing them, they probably would find some way to make his ineptness endearing. 

“this is the quadratic formula. did you understand this one when we went over it in class?” you ask. 

“yes.” satoru responds, seething. 

“okay, so if that’s the case, can you solve this problem for me?” you ask. 

you slide the paper over to satoru, eyes hopeful, as you watch a blank expression spread over his face.  it’s something that he does often, or at least in this setting from what you can tell of the total of two hours that have passed. 

the entire session seems to be a lot of talking into the air – with him opting to listen to you explain the question rather than try it on his own or admit where exactly it is that he needs help. 

you’re not surprised that he has an ego about getting forced to do remedial tutoring. 

“you know, listening to explain it over and over again won’t really help. you have to be able to struggle your way through the question on your own.” you respond. 

satoru gives you a shrug, before taking the paper into his own hands. 

“this is bullshit. and i get that i have to like know this shit because like…societies and shit before me knew it all but i don’t really understand the point. coach is just making me do this bullshit to keep me from playing more. 

you pinch your lips into a line. the algebra teacher and basketball coach, masamichi yagi, had, in confidence, told you the exact opposite. that satoru was bright and talented – on the road to where he wanted to go – but his grades were going to hold him back if he didn’t try harder. 

you can still hear his words in your head. 

he can be tough to work with when he’s frustrated, but just try to get through to him. he’s smart enough to do this. 

“i mean, the past societies and stuff learned it and emphasize passing it on because it’s actually really relevant to what you’re doing right now.” you respond. 

“yeah, maybe for nerd shit that you do, but it’s not really relevant to where i want to go.” satoru responds. 

you roll your eyes. he didn’t have to be irritating about it. 

“and where’s that?” you ask. 

and in a split second, you see satoru smile for the first time, this close. you weren’t a stranger to him at all – almost no one was with the way the basketball team's pictures were plastered all over the school in the yearbook – but you had never sat so close to him before, at least not in years. 

he a dimple on the right side and three freckles on the left. 

“i’m going to be a starting point guard on an nba basketball team.” satoru whispers. 

“you want to go pro?” you ask. 

“hell yeah. it’s all i’ve ever wanted since i was a kid.” 

you smile. you had heard it before – that he was electric on the court – but you didn’t realize that it was serious enough to pursue a basketball career. 

“i hate to break it to you, but the quadratic formula will be really useful to you in the future.” you respond. 

satoru scoffs. you take the board from him, drawing out the trajectory of the line, as he explains. 

“the reason that you use the quadratic formula is to find the solution of the equation. it can actually tell you more than you think – about where something needs to be in space, how fast it needs to move. if you’re standing all the way at the end of the basketball court, as far away from the net as possible, you’re not going to shoot right?” you ask. 

“obviously not.” satoru responds, sarcastically. 

“and you’re not going to try from right underneath the net?” 

“not if i want to get my ass beat by coach.” 

“so you know that you have to find the right spot to try from because it’ll give you your best possible shot at getting it into the basket. that’s how the equation works – figuring out the best possible spot to where your solution works.” 

satoru rolls his eyes at you. 

“so?” 

“so. you should think about it like that. don’t make it so abstract because it’s honestly way too boring to try to do it that way. finding applications will help you get through how difficult it is. if you want to get scouted for division one basketball, you have to have good grades.” 

satoru clicks his tongue in his cheek. 

“do you want me to do the quadratic formula in my head every time i make a shot?” 

you roll your eyes. 

“obviously not. but you have to admit that something like that would be helpful. and it is helpful, for people who do engineering, fly planes, all of that type of stuff. the application will just make it more interesting or relevant for you.” you respond. 

“how do you get through it?” he asks. 

you pause. 

“what?” 

“your application or whatever. to make you do it without getting bored.” 

you can feel your cheeks burn. 

“i actually don’t have one. i was just making that up.” 

satoru’s eyes widen. 

“you gave me a whole inspirational lecture with shit you pulled out of your ass?” satoru asks, eyes incredulous. 

you note that there’s a whisper of a smile on his face. 

“part of the job is motivating students! and i don’t have one because what i want to do actually does have no application to this..” you respond. 

satoru nods, before leaning forward on the desk, his cheek in the palm of his hand as he smiles.

“so what do you want to do?” he asks. 

“what?” 

“in the future. i’d love to hear whatever it is that doesn’t have a real life application to math, so i can use it as a backup plan if this whole basketball thing doesn’t work out.” 

you glare at him. 

“this is a tutoring session, not social hour.” 

“oh come on. you’re no fun. i promise i’ll actually try if you tell me.” satoru responds. 

you debate lying. 

you debate lying because you know this is how he is, because you’ve seen him do this since the second he had his growth spurt in the sixth grade. tell different girls that they’re pretty, flatter them by asking them personal questions, and flirt like it was the air he breathed. 

and it makes you mad – only because you were that girl in seventh grade. giggling to yourself about how he said your braids were pretty, asking about if you were going to the dance, and everything in between. 

the only reason that the girls who whispered about him in your english literature class annoy you is because they remind you of yourself. though that stopped dead in his tracks when you realized that it was something that he did with everyone. 

satoru’s eyes are expectant, waiting for an answer, and you convince yourself later that night that it’s why you gave in and told him what you’ve never told anyone before. not because he really was attractive and charming – but only because he told you his first.

“scout’s honor you won’t tell?” you ask. 

satoru signals with the little cross over his heart, before giving you a nod. 

“i want to be a singer.” you respond. 

satoru’s eyes widen. 

“you’d be great for that!” 

“what?” 

“oh, come on. you’ve been the lead of every musical since like freshman year. and i remember that song you wrote about cheerleaders or whatever in sixth grade, it was really good.”

you widen your eyes. 

“you remember that?” you ask. 

“what was it called? i just remember it was like cheer captain and bleachers or something like that. mei mei got really mad at the time because she thought you were talking about her.” 

you laugh. 

“it was called you belong with me. there was a lyric in it, she’s cheer captain and i’m on the bleachers. and she was right to be mad, because it was about her. i can’t even believe you remember that.” you respond. 

satoru smirks. 

“do you just think i’m some asshole? we’ve gone to the same school since preschool. i like to think we’re friends – that’s why i picked you to be my tutor.” satoru responds. 

you didn’t know that part. you had figured that yaga had just reached out to you because you were one of the top students in the class.  

“i don’t know. i didn’t realize you remembered all that! i kind of thought you didn’t even know my name.” you respond. 

satoru smiles. 

“your name is y/n. you used to wear pigtail braids in first grade with ribbons in them. you’re really smart and you always have been. you went to the dance in seventh grade with that robotics nerd nanami kento. and one time you picked me for heads up seven up in fourth grade.” satoru responds. 

you feel your cheeks warm up. 

at the heat of your infatuation with satoru, you had made your move in the only way that you knew how – by picking him in heads up seven up. 

once in a while, you would get to play the game in class – when it was someone's birthday or you were waiting for an assembly to start. the teacher would pick seven students and the rest would put their heads down at their desks, with their thumbs up. the people who were selected got to pick anyone they wanted in the room and tap on their head. if the people who were tapped were able to guess who picked them correctly, they got to switch in. 

you picked satoru. and he guessed correctly. 

“kind of had a big fat crush on you after that, if i’m not going to lie.” satoru jokes. 

“what? over the heads up seven up?” 

satoru nods. 

“you picked me out of a room of forty people. i was ready to propose marriage.” satoru jokes. 

you snort. 

“don’t say that. i totally would have said yes. i obviously picked you for a reason.” 

satoru looks up at you, eyes wide in something you can’t really place, before he grins at you brightly. 

“you bitch! we could have been childhood sweethearts at this point if you weren’t such a chicken.” 

“me? you should have made a move. the ball was in your court after i tapped on you in heads up seven up.” 

satoru sighs. 

“oh ten year old satoru. dropping the ball as always.” 

you roll your eyes, before sliding the worksheet back over to him. satoru groans, before sneaking the paper closer to him, and scratching his head as he looks at the paper. you lean over the tiniest bit of the desk, trying to make a mess of his scribbling, and making sure he’s on the right path. 

“why’d you pick that one as c?” you ask. 

“was i not supposed to?”

“i mean, no. i just wanted to figure out why so you don’t do it next time.” 

it goes like that for the rest of the hour. he tends to make silly mistakes or get hopelessly lost in the middle, but answers one question correctly by the end of the session – which he takes as a win. 

he says one thing that sticks in your mind before he leaves, with the same expectant eyes waiting for an answer as he hangs off of the door frame. 

“y/n?” 

“yeah?”

“when you become a big famous singer, will you invite me to your first show?” satoru asks. 

you smile, before looking down at your hands and twisting the silver rings on your fingers. 

“if that happens, sure. only if you invite me to the first game where you get to start.” you respond. 

satoru grins brightly, his eyes crinkling in the smile.  

“i'm betting on it. you and me.” 

--

three months into tutoring – and a few ice cream cones and movies here and there – satoru invites you to go to a party with him.

“you know, i’m not really into the party scene, satoru.” you respond. 

“but you’re into me, because i’m the love of your life, so you should come anyways.” 

satoru does that often. flirt, make jokes about how the two of you are meant to be, and everything in between. troy and gabriella because you’re a brainiac and he’s an athlete. the best love story, since you’ve liked each other from the start. 

but you know that he’s joking, because he does that with everyone. it doesn’t mean that it isn’t nice to pretend that it’s true sometimes. 

“look, mei mei has a bunch of drinks that her dad bought for the party, so you should just come and let loose.” 

you widen your eyes. 

“you know mei mei hates me right?” 

“it’s okay, being around her will give you more material to write for your songs. then you can sing it on your sold out world tour.” satoru jokes. 

he also does that often. talk about your dream like it’s most certainly going to come true. talk about how he’s going to be front row, how you’re going to be the half-time show for his championship games, and how fans will adore your love story and humble backgrounds in tutoring. 

“come on. i’ll pick you up at six, okay?” 

at six pm, satoru honks the horn of his shitty honda civic for six minutes before you oblige and give in. and the party goes well – with satoru sticking by your side, introducing you to his best friend suguru, and making you do shots with cheap tequila. 

it goes well until they start playing a mixed version of truth or dare and spin the bottle. you have two options when the bottle lands on you – kissing the person who span it or getting a truth or dare from them. 

it’s not your idea of fun. because while you would have easily opted for just being asked truthful questions all night, you realize that the stuff that they ask and insinuate is no joke. 

and after an hour, satoru kisses suguru – much to suguru’s dismay – and shoko gets dared to prank call her ex-girlfriend, utahime, which goes insanely horrible. it felt like intruding to listen to the two of them argue so openly on the phone. 

when mei mei spins the bottle, it lands on you. 

“please don’t try to kiss me.” 

you pinch your lips in a line. 

“i wasn’t planning on it. i’ll do truth.” 

she breaths a dramatic sigh of relief. you shoot satoru a smile, who shakes it off as plain joking, before you swallow hard. 

“fuck, marry, kill. satoru, suguru, and choso.” 

you feel your eyes widen. 

“was the game not kiss, marry, kill?” you respond. 

“if we’re in the sixth grade.” mei mei responds.

you fidget with your fingers in your lap, all three of them expectantly looking at you, as you feel your voice shake. 

“um. marry satoru. and then i guess…i’ll kill choso? and you know the last one.” you respond. 

“and i thought we were friends.” choso responds, voice dripping with sarcasm as the group of them snicker. 

“we can go do that right now, that’s not a problem. should we switch the game to seven minutes in heaven?” suguru responds, snickering over his shoulder with shoko who doesn’t entertain one second of his nonsense. 

satoru is the only one who doesn’t say anything. and they move on just as fast, spinning the bottle over and over again, while you overthink what just happened – how awkward you were being, how satoru slightly shifted away from you on the hard carpet, and how you very desperately want to go home. 

when you spin the bottle, you hope to god it doesn’t land on him. but it’s just your luck, because it points directly at suguru, who is now very smugly seated next to satoru. 

“are you going to kiss me?” suguru asks. 

you know that he’s joking. you know deep down that this is just something that makes them laugh, that deep down, you wouldn’t really have to if you didn’t want to, but that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing to be cornered like this. 

“no.” you respond. 

suguru feigns hurt. 

“why not?”

you look down at your hands. 

“i’ve never kissed anyone before.” 

“i can fix that.” suguru responds. 

you shake your head. and in the split second that passes, you can feel satoru’s hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you down the stairs and out the door, and leading you down the street to where he parked his car. 

he’s quiet as he rummages in his pockets for his key, angrily yanking on the door, as you stand on the pavement. 

“come on. we’re going home.” he responds, leaning his hands on the open door as he gestures for you to move to the passengers side. 

you shake your head, feeling hot burning tears in your eyes, as you look at him. 

“are you mad at me or something?” you ask. 

“what?” 

“i don’t know! i didn’t know what to say when mei mei asked me that. i don’t ever want to offend you or hurt your feelings or anything. and i wasn’t going to kiss your friend, you didn’t have to drag me out of there like that because i wasn’t even going to consider it.” 

satoru sighs, leaning his cheek against the window, as he gives you a halfhearted smile. 

“i’m not mad at you. or what you said.” 

“okay, because i thought that was the best option! marry is objectively the option you save for the best person in the options because that’s the person you have to kiss too. like when you marry someone you obviously have to kiss them and you’re not going to kill them, so you save it for the best.” you respond, rambling. 

satoru grins. 

“you think i’m the best option?” 

you groan. 

“shut up. i don’t even know choso. and suguru is…suguru. no.” 

satoru smiles, walking away from the open door, before reaching for your wrists and squeezing hard. 

“i’m not mad at you. i just got…annoyed back there for a second.” satoru murmurs. 

“at?” 

satoru tries to stifle his sigh. 

“i didn’t want suguru to kiss you.” satoru responds. 

“that makes two of us, genius.” you respond, earning you a laugh from him. 

“i wanted it to land on me. i know it’s just a game, but really. i wanted it to be me.” satoru murmurs. 

you laugh. 

“okay, satoru. truth or dare. i can give you one right now.” you respond, giving him a peachy smile as you wait for him to respond. 

but he doesn’t. because all you see in the dim lamplight of the street is satoru, frowning at you. his eyes are expectant, but not waiting for an answer this time – but for you to understand what he was trying to say. 

that he wanted you to kiss him. 

it takes you five seconds. five seconds of bright blue eyes to get it. 

“oh.” you respond. 

you pause. 

“really?” you whisper. 

satoru shrugs. almost like he’s embarrassed. 

you lift your hands, gesturing for him to wait right there, as you duck into the car from the door that he opened, and reach over the seats for the water bottle that you left in there a few days ago. 

“fuck, ow.” you whisper. 

“are you okay?” satoru asks, leaning closer to peek his head through the door. 

“yeah. yeah. just looking for something.” 

you find it underneath the seat – a wrinkled mess of plastic from the heat and three sips of lukewarm water left. you push out of the car, holding up the little bottle in between the two of you, to which satoru gives you a confused look. 

“i wouldn’t drink that.” satoru responds. 

you shake your head, before crouching to the ground, and placing the bottle on the ground. you gesture for satoru to join you, the two of you hunching over with your heads pressed together. and you reach forward and spin the bottle, only for it to point towards the car. 

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” you murmur. 

you readjust the bottle, manually pointing it towards satoru, as you look back up at him and give him a smile. 

“i don’t get it.” satoru responds. 

“it landed on you.” you respond. 

you watch satoru’s throat bob. 

“what?” he whispers. 

“i spun. it landed on you.” you respond. 

you swear he’s blushing in the moonlight. 

“y/n.”

“are you going to kiss me, satoru?” you whisper. 

it’s a split second before satoru reaches forward, pulling you up by the wrists, and yanking you into the backseat of his car to do just that. you can taste the remnants of the cheap tequila on his lips, the feeling warm in your chest as he smiles – no, laughs – into the kiss. 

in the seconds that pass, you lean your forehead against satoru’s, the two of you lightly panting as you catch your breaths – his hands warm on your waist and yours underneath his biceps. 

“did you really pick me out of everyone to be your math tutor?” you whisper. 

satoru laughs. 

“i knew what i wanted. and i got her.” satoru whispers. 

you get signed on to a record label a year later, two months before you graduate high school. it breaks your heart to leave him behind when the fall comes around. 

--

four years later 

“did the tour bus get stalled?” you ask. 

yuki looks up from her clipboard, switching off the little knob on her earpiece, as she takes the open seat next to you. 

“yeah. they’ve got it stuck inside the fencing outside the stadium, they’re just trying to push it through now.” yuki responds. 

“can’t we just walk out to the car?” you ask. 

yuki shakes her head again. 

“fans go out the same way. if you want to avoid getting mobbed on the way out here, it’s best to wait.” yuki responds. 

“if we have to wait, i’m just going to go lie down in the dressing room. come get me when it’s here?” you ask. 

yuki gives you a nod as you walk off to the other side of the stadium, the heels of your feet aching from the high stiletto boots you were wearing breaking halfway through the performance, as you shake through the messy tresses of your hair. 

“it was so nice to meet you, man. you said she was over this way?” 

you feel your eyes widen as you turn your head to the left – to the voice that you can recognize anywhere – and feel a dry patch in your throat. at the sight of satoru, an obscenely tall version of satoru, standing three feet away from you, talking to one of the members of your crew. 

you watch as satoru gives a polite smile and walks down the way towards your dressing room, already six whole paces in front of you from how long his legs are now, as you follow behind him, wiping away the darkness of smudged makeup under your eyes and brushing down the beads of your dress. 

it can’t be him, can it? you desperately wished there was something else to wear besides the bedazzled bodysuit you were wearing currently. 

you watch as satoru knocks on your door, expectantly waiting for a response at the door, as he wipes his hands against the sides of his pants. and you walk up right behind him, nervously clearing your throat, as he turns around and gives you a wide smile. 

“ah. right, hi! i was just looking for you. my name is…” 

“satoru.” you finish. 

there was no way he thought you actually forgot him, did he? 

satoru unclenches his shoulders, an immediate pang of relief spreading through his face, as he gives you a smile – a dimple on the right and three freckles on the left – as you feel a pang of hurt in your chest. 

he looks good. he looks even better than you left him, his striking white hair longer than it was before and the smallest amount of wrinkles around his eyes. 

“you remember.” satoru responds. 

you bite on the inside of your cheek, to stop yourself from smiling at him fully. 

“do you just think i’m some asshole? we’ve gone to the same school since preschool.” you respond. 

satoru rolls his eyes at the words – the same ones he said years prior – as he crosses his hands over his chest. and you can’t help but contain your excitement and lean forward, a gesture he returns as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and squeeze hard. 

“satoru, oh my fucking god. you should have told me you were coming.” you respond, leaning back as he reaches up to cup the side of your cheek and smile down at you. 

“how could i?” he asks. 

“you could text me. i have a phone.” you joke. 

satoru gives you a smile. 

“you know, when you change your number, that means i can’t text you.” 

you groan, smacking your palm against your forehead. 

“shit. i totally forgot. i was just so stressed out at the time because…” 

“because someone leaked your phone number and people were calling you at every hour of the day. i know.” 

you feel your chest pang, mainly at the fact that satoru was here – that he thought you forgot him and, in earnest, you really had forgotten him. that he was keeping tabs, that he knew everything that you were up to in the years since you separated – from your phone number getting leaked to the fact that you were performing tonight – and you couldn’t say the same. 

you frown. 

“right. i’m sorry, i meant to give it to you, i just…” 

“were going through a lot at the time. first world tour, six grammy nominations, and some friends who weren’t the greatest, i gathered.” 

you sigh. 

“you don’t know the half of it.” you respond. 

satoru shakes his head. 

“i mean, i do. but i’d love to hear it from you, if…if you ever wanted to tell me?” satoru asks. 

he has that same look in his eyes. timid, expectant eyes, shy and waiting for an answer. 

“of course i would want to tell you.” you whisper. 

satoru smiles. 

“good. i’d love to hear it.” satoru responds. 

it doesn’t feel real. it doesn’t feel real that four year ago satoru kissed you in the moonlight on a horribly paved street, that you had to leave him behind on that same cobblestone four years ago, and now he’s standing in front of you – the two of you the same as before, satoru the same, maybe even better, than the way you left him. 

“what are you doing here, satoru?” you ask. 

he smiles, before reaching into his pocket, and pulling out two little pieces of paper. he hands them over to you, as you read the fine print. 

July 19th 

San Francisco Golden State Warriors versus Los Angeles Lakers 

“i’m the starting point guard for an nba basketball team. i promised you an invite to my first game.” he murmurs. 

you press the tickets close to your chest, as you give him a nod. 

“y/n. the tour bus is here!” yuki screams at the end of the hall, frantic hands waving you over, as you turn back to satoru with a pinched look. 

he smiles in response. 

“don’t worry. i’ll see you in a week.” he responds. 

--

the week that follows is agonizing. 

you scavenge every corner of the internet to find out everything about him known to the public. where he lives, what he’s been up to, what team he plays for. 

he’s the starting point guard for the lakers, his hometown team for where he’s lived for the past four years. it seems that he had made his escape from the suburbs around the same time that you had, by playing division one basketball at the university of southern california, before getting a straight bid into the nba. 

he’s the youngest starting point guard in history. he’s broken his own all time record multiple times and was one of the youngest people to get signed on with the league. 

he likes to cook. suguru made his way onto the team with him. the two of them are a dynamic duo – famous for their hilarious interviews. he’s a father. he adopted two kids that lived in his neighborhood after their dad tragically passed away – megumi and tsumiki. 

and most of all, he’s the same as you left him. because in every interview you watch, you hear the same thing. 

“satoru, which artist is on your pregame playlist?” 

“if you could go to any concert, which would it be?” 

“who do you dream to collaborate with in the future?” 

it’s the same answer every time. 

y/n l/n, of course. 

you can hear his voice in your head already. 

i knew what i wanted. and i got her. 

--

the stadium is an overstimulating amount of loud – something exacerbated by how nervous you are – as you walk down the steps to the court, stomach erupting into a nervous mess of butterflies. 

satoru gifted you courtside seats to the opening game. and if he was going to follow suit like he always did, his kids would be sitting right next to you, dead center to watch him play. 

you catch sight of his white tufts of hair at the center of the court, fans in the stands excitedly pointing at him practicing free throws with his teammates, and snapping pictures. you see a group of girls in his jersey giggling at the side, zooming in to take photos and loudly talking about how hot he looked when he pushed his hair back with a headband during the game. 

girls on twitter loved the headband. it seemed that among most things, one thing never changed – how much people adored satoru. 

as you get closer to the lights, you can tell that people notice your attendance, hushed whispers and pointed fingers at you as you make your way down to the waxed court, your shoes clicking on the wood, as you walk over to your seat. 

you hope satoru doesn’t think it’s too forward that you decided to wear his jersey – with his last name spelled out on the back – as you take a seat. 

you wipe your sweaty hands on the pleats of your white tennis skirt, fiddling with the beaded bracelet on your hands, as one of satoru’s teammates eyes widen at the sight of you, before they all but run over to smack him across the shoulder. 

satoru looks over at you, giving you a soft smile, as he drops the ball and starts making strides over to where you’re sitting. you can feel your cheeks burning as you stand up, waiting for him to fully approach and he does the same thing he used to – wrapping his hands around your wrists as he leans forward, the smallest sheen of sweat on his forehead. 

“i’d hug you, but i’m a little gross right now, brainiac.” he murmurs. 

you shake your head. 

“no problem. these are nice seats.” 

he smiles. 

“i’d let you bring a friend, but i had to save –” 

“the other two tickets for your kids. megumi and tsumiki. they’re your neighbor's kids, who you adopted after their dad passed away.” you finish. 

satoru widens his eyes, before poking his tongue in the side of his cheek, and giving you a grin. 

“did your research, did you?” 

you shrug. 

“i did. but i’d love to hear about it, if you’ll tell me...” you respond. 

satoru laughs. 

“tsumiki is a really big fan. megumi doesn’t believe me when i said that you and i used to date, but he doesn’t believe anything i say anyways. they’re my favorite people in the world. and i love to make dad jokes.” satoru responds. 

you smile. of course he does. 

“i’m excited to meet them. i’ll give tsumiki a whole personal concert. signed cds or vinyls, whatever you want.” you state. 

“i’d withhold that for now. i think she’s going to have a heart attack from excitement all at once when she realizes daddy is dating her idol.” 

you feel like you’re in high school. you feel like it’s thursday after lunch and satoru’s walking you to class, making jokes about how the two of you are going to end up together. saying you’re troy and gabriella, about how no one will understand each other like you, about how you’re going to be at the halftime show performance at his championship game. 

“one last thing.” satoru states. 

“what’s that?” 

he reaches into the pocket of his shorts, procuring a set of blue earplugs and placing them in the palm of your hand. 

“i remember you hate how loud it can get. and this is going to be ten times worse than our shitty school gym, so wear these.” satoru states. 

you can’t help but frown at the thoughtfulness, looking back up at the bright smile he’s giving you, before squeezing his hand. satoru leans forward and pinches the softness of your cheek, before running back to the center of the court and practicing with the team. 

you can tell that some of them are jeering at him – giggling behind him as he shoots from different parts of the court, and you memorize the permanent smile that seems to be etched on to his face. suguru gives you a wave, before blowing you a kiss, which earns him a hard shove from satoru on the court. 

--

two months later, the two of you follow the same routine. satoru travels around the country for his games. you do the same for your tours – and whenever the cities overlap, which coincidentally every week they almost do – the two of you get dinner, eat breakfast. he insists on sleeping on his couch so you can take his bed, but you convince him to stay and just share.  

satoru says the overlap is fate. you tell him that he’s ridiculous. he says that it has to be fate – that you have to be meant to be, because you get back into it just as quickly as the two of you fell into it. 

satoru tells you that he’s proud of you. your fans post videos of him at your shows – bright smiles on his face as he sings along to all of the words of your songs. you decide to surprise him at the third show he comes to, by singing his favorite song – you belong with me. you both joke about how mei mei is pissed wherever she is. 

you tell satoru that you’re proud of him too. you watch every game courtside and really, are just in awe of him as you are when you were seventeen, blue paint splattered on your cheeks as you cheer him on – the muffled sounds of the crowd in your ears. you always carry three pairs of ear plugs, the extra two for megumi and tsumiki. 

you think you love him. you think you always will. you realize that no one was ever going to have your heart like he did. 

satoru has a home game in los angeles in late august. and his manager invites you to the afterparty two minutes away from the stadium, your transportation arranged with megumi and tsumiki. 

you think they’re adorable. you think satoru is the best dad. 

at a whopping seven years old, tsumiki reminds you of satoru. full of energy and light, she talks a hundred words per minute. the second you walk into the afterparty, you watch as she beelines to the big group of people, suguru quickly picking her up as she starts chattering loudly. 

megumi’s the opposite. a little shy for his age, you swear that he squeezes your hand harder as you stand at the doorway of the crowded room. and true to satoru’s words – he really didn’t believe that you and satoru used to be friends, let alone date, but states that it must be because satoru did some black magic on you. 

he makes jokes like that all the time. 

“you okay?” you ask. 

“yeah. have you seen my dad?” he asks. 

you frown. 

“no.” 

megumi gives you a halfhearted sigh. 

“okay.” 

megumi gets nervous. the only people he feels comfortable around are satoru and tsumiki. 

“you know, your dad never changes. he used to do this to me all the time too.” you state. 

“do what?” 

“drag me to parties. it’s not really my scene.” 

megumi smiles. 

“really?” 

you nod. 

“i wouldn’t even know most of the people there. one time he took me to the birthday party of a girl who literally hated me.” 

megumi laughs. 

“of course he did. some romantic he makes himself out to be. but really, i don’t care. i just hate waiting for tsumiki to come back.” megumi states. 

you smile in response. 

“well, how about we wait in the kitchen? there’ll be less people there.” 

you tug megumi along to the kitchen, quickly lifting him to sit on the counter, as you rummage through the fridge – trying to catch your breath from whatever alternate universe you’re living in. 

you’re in satoru’s house, with all of his friends. his kids seem to like you. he scored the most points out of the game, including the winning shot with six seconds left on the scoreboard. you have no idea where he is or what you’re doing right now or – 

“hi.” 

you slam the door shut, only to find suguru getou towering over you, with a smile on his face. 

“hi.” you respond, reaching up to tuck the hair behind your ears as you take a step back. 

“it’s been a long time, girl scout.” 

you try to stifle your sigh. 

“sure has been.” you respond. 

“satoru’s really keen on hiding you away.” 

you awkwardly nod, twisting the silver rings on your hands, as you give him a smile. 

“we’re just getting to know each other, that's all.” you respond. 

suguru widens his eyes. 

“what is there to find out? you’ve known each other since you were toddlers.” suguru responds. 

you shrug. 

“i don’t know. a lot of time has passed.” you murmur. 

suguru pinches his eyes shut, in frustration. 

“you’d think that would make the two of you more eager.” he responds. 

“what do you mean?” 

“if it were me, if i felt the way the two of you obviously do, then i’d get a move on. i’d be unable to contain it.” 

you glare. 

“you don’t know how we feel. and there’s a lot on the line here.” 

suguru crosses his arms over his chest. 

“do you like him?” suguru asks. 

“what?” 

“because he loves you. basketball has always been his dream, but even more so when he realized that it would be a reason to talk to you again. he’s listened to all of your albums the second they came out, seen you perform every time you came around these parts, and cursed the hell out of every movie star asshole who has talked shit about you publicly or hurt your feelings.” suguru responds. 

you sigh. 

“i’ll ask you again. do you like him? because he. loves. you. you make him so nervous that he won’t make the first move, just like he wouldn’t when you were sixteen.” 

“of course i do. i –” 

“do i need to threaten to kiss you again?” suguru asks. 

it’s right at that second that satoru parades into the kitchen and you can tell from the way that he yanks suguru back by the year that he only heard the very end of the conversation. 

“that joke doesn’t get any funnier the fifth time you say it.” satoru seethes. 

“get a move on before i do, dumbass.” suguru responds, giving satoru one last shove before walking off. 

you don’t have time to think about his words, but one thought crosses your mind – that suguru might have been so insistent at that party all of those years ago, because he knew it would push something forward between the two of you. 

he sure had a strange way of being a wingman. 

at the sight of satoru, megumi’s holding his little hands out – something satoru obliges to as he picks him up – before turning over to face you. 

“do you want me to kill him?” he asks. 

you smile. 

“i know he’s just kidding.” you respond. 

satoru rolls his eyes. 

“i was kind of hoping you would say yes.” 

“did you used to date suguru too?” megumi asks. 

you widen your eyes. 

“absolutely not. just your dad, no one else.” you respond. 

“god megumi, that’s not just something that you can ask someone.” tsumiki murmurs, padding into the kitchen with pink cheeks, as she wraps her arm around your leg. 

you return the affection, reaching down to push her bangs away from her forehead, as you look back at satoru. he stares a little too long, before looking over at megumi and whispering. 

“can you and tsumiki take a walk real quick?” 

megumi gives him a nod as satoru sets him down, the two of them walking away hand in hand to the other side of the room, as satoru turns back to you, reaching forward to wrap his hands around your wrists. 

“hey.” he whispers. 

“hi.” you whisper back. 

he leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. 

“did you enjoy the game?” 

“sure did. tsumiki and i shared rainbow airheads. and megumi gave me a really big hug after you won, which almost made me cry.” you respond. 

“i’ll say. i almost cried when i saw all three of you hugging on the jumbotron.” 

you lean forward, pressing yourself against his chest, as you link your arms together behind his back. you can hear suguru’s words racing through your mind – if it were me i wouldn’t be able to contain it, do you like him? because he loves you – and it makes your skin burn. 

“hey. you okay?” satoru asks. 

you say the only thing that you can think of. 

“yeah. i’m just…really happy..” you whisper. 

satoru pinches your cheek.

“me too.” he responds.  

“ever since i left, my life has changed, so drastically, so quickly. i went from being a girl from a small suburb in new york to being someone that…that a lot of people knew about. wanted to know about. sometimes this stuff makes me feel like i’m not really that person anymore.” 

you pause. 

“but every time you look at me i can…i do feel like that again. like someone who was in high school, who hated school dances, and did the morning announcements. someone who loved you. who was with you.” 

you sigh. 

“no one’s ever had me like you. i don’t know if you’re joking when you say it, but it really is fate. you really are….are my soulmate or my invisible string or whatever. you…you’re it for me.” 

satoru lets go of your wrists, before reaching for the closest cupboard and reaching for a bottle, and placing it flat on the floor. he’s crouching on his knees, your chest so full of love you can barely stomach it, as he gestures for you to crouch on the floor close to him, his cheeks pink in the light. 

you watch as he spins the bottle, only for it to miss and land on the fridge. 

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me...” satoru responds. 

he reaches forward, twisting the bottle so it faces you, before looking at you expectantly. the same way he looked every other time – waiting for you to tell him what your dream job was, waiting for you to kiss him, and now waiting for you to confess for a second time. 

“are you going to kiss me, y/n?” 

you whisper it against his lips. 

“guess what?” 

“what?” 

“i knew what i wanted. and i got him.” 

--

an: our very first ttpd gojo as taylor <3 this post was sponsored by @yuutito, @neptuneblue, and @um-no-ok through my participation in fics for gaza! thank you so much for donating - I hope you liked the piece!!! i went a little bit over the promised wordcount as I started writing, but left it as is to be posted since we met the goal. a reminder that i'm still taking submissions for my wips (i'll be putting a new one up) and for requests!

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[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 9.

viktorxfemale!reader explict! (we got there)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 7,2K!

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: spoiler: In the timeline of my writing, this is the first sex scene I've ever written on my own. So, what can I say? This is an imperfect story about imperfect people, but I can assure you it has an eventual happy ending.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

The absolute chaos of Christmas looming spread across the campus like an infectious frenzy. The corridors were decked with the most absurd ornaments the students could scavenge—Santa Claus figurines strung up and dangling upside down from the ceiling of the canteen, Christmas trees adorned with laboratory glassware and angel hair, and a mockery of carols blaring on repeat from the school radio. It was a bizarre fusion of science and art, a perfect encapsulation of the university’s peculiar spirit.

Every student seemed to be racing against time, scrambling to finish their projects and papers before the holidays, determined to return prepared for the looming finals. The labs and library remained open around the clock for anyone desperate enough to study or practise at odd hours.

You and Sue spent every spare moment in the lab classroom, tinkering with projects that needed to be submitted by the semester’s end. Meanwhile, Jayce and Viktor made themselves available to assist and guide anyone who might need their expertise, and the group crossed paths periodically, exchanging polite gestures and jokes to keep up the holiday spirit. Viktor had made a few attempts to talk to you after his mortifying text message, but you did your best to ignore him.

Which made your current situation, to say the least, far from ideal. Sue was rushing you to jot down all the points before she had to dash off and tend to a project for another class. The two of you huffed at each other, frustration starting to take its toll, until you sighed and said, “Sue, how about I finish this, and you go do your thing? I really don’t mind.” You offered your friend a reassuring smile.

Sue hesitated, narrowing her eyes. “Are you sick of me or something?”

“I’m never sick of you,” you said, placing your hand on Sue’s knee and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “I just think this needs a bit more work, and I can see you’re in a hurry. Honestly, I really don’t mind if you don’t.”

“Okay, I admit my mind is elsewhere. Fine,” Sue sighed in mock defeat. “I’ll do something for you in return, I promise.” She started packing up her things and leaned over to place a hand on your shoulder.

“Just get me a cookie or something,” you replied with a tired smile, gently brushing Sue’s hand away. You figured you’d probably finish the work faster on your own, and you were running out of time anyway. The lab was already emptying, darkness had fallen outside, your eyes burned from staring at the chemicals for so long, and you’d had more than enough for one day.

After Sue left, you resumed your work, determined to finish everything in one evening. The promise of rest and the satisfaction of completion fuelled you. You were so focused on jotting down your thoughts that you didn’t notice when Viktor sat beside you and leaned over your notes.

“Do you... need help?” His voice was unsure, as if he were asking about something else as well.

You hesitated. Help would certainly be welcome, but Viktor’s presence would also make it harder for you to focus. The final equation seemed to balance out the odds. You looked at him—he looked tired yet sharp. He wore the same green jumper he’d had on that night, with a crisp white shirt collar peeking out from underneath it. His scent was fresh and comforting, and his eyes, full of quiet anticipation, were fixed on you as you calculated your decision. You sighed. Yes, you needed help.

“Alright. Shoot me.”

For a split second, Viktor’s face lit up before he leaned in closer. “You’re pretty far along,” he said, his expression thoughtful, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You can dictate, and I’ll translate it into Heimerdinger’s language?”

“That would honestly be perfect,” you admitted, letting out a huff of relief as you turned your attention back to the chaotic scrawl of notes Sue had left behind. Terrible handwriting.

The two of you worked together in near silence, the hum of the lab equipment and the faint scratching of Viktor’s pen the only sounds between you. You found yourself occasionally distracted by the way Viktor’s long fingers moved as he pointed to your results, his low voice guiding you through adjustments. You tried to stay focused, but every now and then, you’d catch yourself glancing at him, his concentration a tether pulling your attention away from your notes.

Viktor, for his part, couldn’t help but steal glances at you. The faint scent of your perfume mixed with the sterile air of the lab, and it made something in his chest feel warm, almost achingly so. He bit his lip nervously whenever he realised he’d been staring too long, forcing his attention back to writing.

It took the two of you longer than either of you had expected, but when you finally wrapped up, the lab was completely empty. You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a soft groan of relief.

“That’s it, then,” you said, your voice tired but satisfied. “Thank you, Viktor. Honestly, I’d still be drowning in that mess if you hadn’t—”

“It’s nothing,” he cut you off gently, placing the pen down and leaning back slightly. He watched as you began gathering your things, clearly ready to leave. But before you could stand, he cleared his throat, his voice softer now. “Hey.”

You paused, looking at him.

“Did you…” He hesitated, the words suddenly harder to push out. He fidgeted with the edge of his notebook. “Did you get my text message?”

Of course, you did. You’d seen his stupid, childish message. The ‘I like you,’ had screamed at you from your phone screen for two weeks now, and you’d both loved it and hated it. Who writes ‘I like you’ like a five-year-old? And not only that, who needs to down an entire bottle of whisky to muster the courage to write ‘I like you’?

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. You hadn’t expected this. You shifted awkwardly in your chair, avoiding his gaze. “I did,” you said finally, your voice measured, careful.

Viktor’s expression remained unreadable, but his hands tightened around the notebook in front of him. “And?”

You let out a breath, your lips pressing into a thin line. “And… if I’m to rely on you saying or doing something from the heart only when you get yourself blind drunk, that wouldn’t be the best choice for your health, Viktor,” your voice was quiet, your eyes fixed on the workbench in front of you. “And I don’t want to be bad for your health.” You offered him a faint smile and looked down again. “If it was from the heart, in the first place.”

His brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded, his gaze dropping to the table. “It was.” It was. And it shamed him deeply that, indeed, he’d needed liquid courage to admit it. Only now did it strike him how awful it must have made you feel. “But I have a… rabbit heart.”

“Am I so terrifying?” you felt mockery twisting itself inside you with anger. Why were you so angry, though? You also had a rabbit heart. You often caught yourself knowing exactly what Viktor was going to say because you used the same words in your history of backing out. Was this the universe having a go at you?

“Yes, you scare the living shit out of me,” he huffed out a shaky laugh, lowering his voice. It was probably the biggest truth he’d told you in all this time.

“Well, this can’t be good for your health either, then, no?” Deflect, deflect, deflect, hide yourself behind that joke. Very well done, you.

“I—” Viktor paused, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “Look, I lied. I’m not good with any setup—casual or not. I—” He stopped himself, his eyes flicking briefly to yours before looking away again. He was torn, visibly at war with his own feelings.

You didn’t want to hear him stumble over words again. “Viktor, I get it. It’s fine. We can still be friends?” You tried to search your mind for what you’d want to hear all those times when you told someone politely the relationship wasn’t working for you.

You thought this was it—an offer of friendship. Most people got hurt or annoyed with you, and it made you feel guilty. So, you tried to say something that wouldn’t make him feel guilty. As soon as you said it, you realised that what you actually wanted was for someone not to let you retreat—but it was too late for that.

Viktor took in a shaky breath, his gaze returning to yours, but he still looked uncertain. “I can’t do that,” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “I can’t be just your friend.” His hands clenched into fists on the table. “I... I’ve tried to be fine with it, but I’m not. I can’t pretend.”

“But I don’t know how to be anything else,” he added after a beat, his mind flicking back to all the times he’d snuck out of someone’s bedroom or when he found himself alone in the morning, in his own cold, sweaty bed. After some time, it became a habit, a quiet indulgence that carried no consequences, and it aligned very well with his main goal: to make his life more than it was meant to be. No distractions, only his goal. Some distractions, but not too many. Only friendships, and here as well, only the stimulating ones. To keep his brain fed, so his soul could starve.

“I have worked… so hard,” he brushed his hand through his hair. “To get where I am. I was meant to fail, and I haven’t failed once. I haven’t failed a single time, aside from some tiny, insignificant stumbles that eventually lead me to answers anyway. So many times I haven’t failed that I don’t think I know how to,” his voice was quiet, as if admitting something shameful. He said it as though any slip-up could cost him everything he’s worked for.

“I… understand,” you said slowly, piecing together the crumbs of information. Viktor didn’t come from a place of love, like you did. He didn’t come from a place of opportunity. He probably had to claw his way through pompous academics who didn’t take him seriously. You understood that part. But what was your part in turning it all to dust—that eluded you. So you didn’t understand, not entirely.

“Do you?” he looked at you longingly, expectantly, and it made your heart ache. What was it that you were supposed to give him now? A promise you would never hurt him? That you would never distract him or drag his mind away from what’s important?

“Viktor, this shouldn’t be so hard, I’m not some mythical creature,” you said, trying to inject a touch of humour into your voice, but it came out thin, brittle.

Viktor’s gaze softened, but the intensity in his eyes remained. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and steady. “No, you’re not,” he murmured, as if trying to reconcile something inside himself. “But you’re not like anyone else either.”

Your chest tightened at the words, but you quickly pushed it aside, unwilling to let yourself feel vulnerable. You folded your arms across your chest, as if protecting yourself from something you couldn’t name. “I don’t want to be a puzzle for you to solve, Viktor. I don’t want to be some challenge you feel like you need to conquer. That’s not what I’m here for.”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he processed your words. He wanted to argue, to convince you that it wasn’t about conquest, that it was about something deeper, but he could tell it wasn’t the right time. Not yet. “I don’t… I don’t think of you like that,” he said, his voice almost too soft, as if afraid to break the fragile moment between you. “I think of you as someone I want to understand, someone who...” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence, the words feeling too heavy in the air.

You shifted in your seat, your eyes narrowing slightly as you considered his words. There was a vulnerability in his voice, a quiet sincerity that you weren’t used to hearing. You almost wanted to reach out, to ease the tension that hung between you, but you held yourself back.

There was a long, aching pause between you before Viktor cleared his throat and leaned back, trying to break the silence. “So,” he said, the words coming out in a lighter tone, “how many do-overs do you think we can have?”

You rolled your eyes at him, a small, rueful smile tugging at your lips. “I find myself hoping that each one is the last one,” you replied dryly, though your heart wasn’t fully in the jest. “Thank you for all the help.”

Viktor smiled, a faint, almost self-deprecating chuckle escaping him. “Oh, no worries. I’ll see you at the Christmas party?” he asked, his voice a little uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure how you’d respond.

You nodded, your expression softening just slightly. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” you said, your tone neutral, but not dismissive. “Take care, Viktor.”

With that, you parted ways, the lingering tension still hanging between you, neither fully satisfied with the conversation, but both with the understanding that you were somehow still connected—however uncertain that connection was.

You found an unbearable thought gnawing at you—that in this state, the only ‘do-over’ you could count on was friendship, and Viktor couldn’t afford that. Inevitably, it would end with nothing.

***

It wasn’t exactly a party, but the pub was completely packed with people—students, assistants, and random individuals who wandered around campus, their roles in it a complete mystery. Everything was bathed in the warm glow of Christmas decorations, making the space feel even more cramped.

You sat at a small round table with Sue, some familiar faces scattered around, including Jayce and Viktor, who had joined after their TA duties. Sue was mid-sentence when you leaned back in your chair, your eyes wandering. You weren’t in the mood for all the noise tonight. The words blurred around you as you half-listened, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of your glass—a quiet distraction. Viktor was talking to Jayce, his sharp voice cutting through the noise every now and then. His dry wit was always on full display, the kind that kept people around him in that odd mix of awe and wariness.

“You okay?” Sue’s voice brought you back. You blinked, nodding slowly.

“Yeah, just... tired, I guess,” you said, forcing a polite smile as you took a sip of your drink.

The room was hazy with cigarette smoke, the heat becoming unbearable. The whole scene was so unbearably sweet and cozy that it made you flinch. Your eyes kept glancing over to Viktor, who would immediately look away as soon as your gazes met. You kept thinking about what another do-over could look like and felt yourself growing more and more frustrated with the space between you, even though you were sitting so close to each other. You could feel Sue's eyes on you but couldn’t quite explain why you felt this way.

Sue raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Well, if you need to bail early, I totally get it.”

You hesitated, then gave a half shrug. “I think I’ll head out. Just... not feeling it, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Sue replied, offering a quick nod. “See you later?”

“Yeah.” You stood, grabbing your coat from the back of your chair. As you made your way through the maze of tables, you could hear Viktor's voice in the background—just enough to make you pause. You could feel his gaze on you, but you ignored it, focusing instead on the exit.

Viktor watched as you stood and walked away, a wave of frustration rising within him, forming itself into a long sigh. He had tried, hadn’t he? He had said things—things he never said to anyone—but now you were leaving, retreating like always. His jaw tightened, and he felt his fingers curl into fists on the table. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not after everything. He should’ve known better, but still, your departure stung.

He couldn’t place why, but it felt like you were slipping away just as he was beginning to reach out. You were both so fucking terrible at talking, at letting yourselves feel anything real. Why did it have to be so difficult?

The cold air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, and for a moment, it felt like a relief. The street was quiet, the only sound the crunch of snow beneath your boots. You slid your headphones on and started walking toward the dorms, matching your steps to the rhythm of the song.

You awaited rest and home and being far away from here with utter impatience. Just one more evening of this. Just one more evening of thinking and biting at your own lips, glancing at your phone, and then it would only be your parents, and Hale, and the quiet evenings at Sheffield, for a week.

Against reason, Viktor followed you, his footsteps soft but steady as he stepped out of the pub moments later. His eyes caught sight of your retreating figure, and a small, amused smile played at the corner of his lips. He’d almost not been surprised—almost expected it.

He called out your name, his voice lost to the wind and muffled by the sounds of the night. But you didn’t hear him. Quickening his pace, his breath misted in the cold air. He called again, louder this time, but still, you didn’t turn.

A small part of him considered letting you go, letting you stew in your thoughts, just leaving it for after the break. But the rest of him felt pulled, like a dog on a leash in front of a vet’s door.

You were nearing the entrance to the dorms when you finally paused, taking a deep breath, and tugging your headphones off with a slight wince. The moment you heard your name, you froze, your heart skipping in your chest.

“Hey you!” Viktor’s voice was closer now, cutting through the night. When you turned, you saw him standing at the edge of the walkway, just outside the dorm. His breath came in visible puffs, his chest heaving as if he’d run after you.

“You walk... so fucking fast,” he said, still catching his breath. “I never figured you for the type to run off so bluntly. But I suppose that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?” Yes, just laugh it out. Viktor took a few steps forward, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Are you fucking drunk again?” you blinked, your mind racing. You had to admit to yourself that Viktor drunkenly following you from the bar was a coin toss you wouldn’t have bet on. Especially after your last talk. Funny.

“Are you not?” he countered, his words smoother than you expected.

“No. Go back to your pub, Viktor.” Your voice was flat now, each word carefully measured. You exhaled sharply, your shoulders sinking as if the weight of the evening had finally caught up with you. You were so tired of this.

Viktor tilted his head, his smile barely visible in the shadows as he took a step closer. “Eh, make me,” he said softly, though it wasn’t a challenge—not really.

Another step.

“I am so not in the mood for you now,” you muttered, your hands dropping limply by your sides as you turned away, dragging yourself down the corridor toward the elevators. Your voice lacked its usual bite, tinged instead with exhaustion.

“Alright, alright, I’m not drunk, just had one pint. Oh, come on,” Viktor mock-pleaded, his cane tapping lightly against the floor as he quickened his pace to catch up with you. “You won’t see me the entire holiday break.”

“And I will savour every single day of this glorious relief from your constant nagging, poking, your sweet side and your dick side, and having fun at my expense,” you snapped, jabbing the elevator button with increasing impatience, your words punctuated by each press.

You were expecting another joke, but Viktor’s hands gripped your waist firmly, twisting you around. Your breath caught as he pulled you flush against him, the heat of his body sharp against the cold you’d carried in from outside.

“Shut up,” he breathed, his voice raw and ragged as his lips found yours. The kiss was unsteady, heated, and messy, tasting faintly of sweet beer and a frustration that mirrored your own. He panted into your mouth, his lips parting just enough to nip at yours.

“Just… shut up, for once,” he murmured, crowding you against the elevator door. It slid open behind you with a soft chime, and you stumbled inside, Viktor’s cane clattering to the floor as he steadied you against the wall. He pulled your turtleneck down to lick your neck greedily over the bite mark he had left there. His hands quickly found their way under your sweater, and he gasped, bemused by your lack of underwear. “No bra?” Again. A low chuckle rumbled against your skin. “Is that your idea of a Christmas present?”

“Fuck off,” you scoffed, your voice still sharp with lingering anger. Your hands pressed against his chest in an attempt to push him away, but the lack of real force and your hands still gripping his coat tightly betrayed you.

“Are you sure?” Viktor smirked, his grip firm as he tilted your chin up, pressing a lingering, deceptively sweet kiss to your lips. “This is your floor,” he said, his voice agonizingly calm as he stepped back, gesturing toward the elevator doors sliding open.

“Or…” His tone shifted, almost teasing, as he pressed the button to close the doors and send them up to his floor instead. “You could come with me. For real, this time.”

You pulled him wordlessly toward you, offering no resistance—nothing more, nothing less. Words had failed you, but your actions were clear. It was enough. Viktor wanted to say, That’s what I thought, the words teasing the edge of his tongue, but he held them back. Instead, he captured your lips again, kissing frantically. He explored your mouth, swallowing the small sounds you made, the elevator a blur as it carried you upward.

By the time you reached his room, Viktor managed to open the door without breaking the kiss, his cane hanging hooked over his arm. You stumbled inside together, the heat between you growing unbearable, and he pressed you firmly against the door, his hands bracing your hips as his lips moved over yours with unrelenting zeal. You pulled him closer, your breath catching as you managed to rasp, “Bed?”

Viktor chuckled softly against your lips; his tone laced with teasing. “Impatient, are we?” But there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze, the way his hands tightened on your hips as he broke the kiss just long enough to guide you further into the room.

“Fuck you,” you muttered, your voice raw as your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him with you.

“Yes. Please, fuck me,” Viktor murmured, sweeping you into another fervent kiss as you stumbled toward the bed. “I’m so tired of you not fucking me.”

You scoffed into his mouth. And who is to blame for that? You sunk into the mattress, pulling Viktor with you by his belt, the cane poking your leg.

“Why are you wearing so many clothes?” he whined, his voice laced with frustration as his clumsy hands fumbled with your coat. His hasty movements betrayed him, and in the rush, his knee accidentally pressed against your arm.

“Ow!” you winced, your sharp tone softening as you glanced at his face. The irritation melted away when you saw the unabashed eagerness in his expression, the way his brow furrowed in determination despite his lack of grace. “Is this going to be painful?” you asked, your lips quirking in a faint, teasing smile, though your voice still held a trace of genuine concern.

Viktor froze, blinking down at you like a scolded child. “Only if you want it to be,” he muttered, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he leaned back to regroup. His fingers moved more carefully now, peeling the coat off from underneath you with exaggerated precision. “Better?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Viktor granted you a low chuckle, his lips quirking in that familiar, lopsided smirk. “Ridiculous, perhaps, but effective,” he murmured as he continued with his careful work, peeling away the layers of your clothing like unwrapping a particularly stubborn present.

His own clothes, however, didn’t receive the same treatment. He shed them with reckless abandon, tossing each piece into an ever-growing messy pile near the bed, his leg brace a crown on top of it. His cane clattered softly to the floor as he leaned back for balance, the faintest flush spreading across his cheeks.

Once you were both were bare, he ran his palms gently along your sides and pressed his face to your hip, your belly, your neck, inhaling your skin. “God, you are so infuriating,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your body.

He glued himself to you, his hands roaming wherever they could reach, as if this were the moment he’d been waiting to happen for the longest time. And it was, of course. The decision to toss everything aside and just jump in might have been reckless, but he had no capacity to decide otherwise.

“Infuriating?” you laughed, feigning offense. “Is that the way you treat all of your conquests? Make them follow you around by the nose for months, until your resolve finally breaks after one pint?”

“No, only you,” he replied smoothly, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He added with a sly smirk, “It’s my love language with you.”

“Love?” you repeated, voice laced with teasing incredulity, but the hesitation in your tone betrayed how the word caught you off guard.

“Shut up,” Viktor muttered, his hand gliding up your side as he kissed you, silencing your laughter before you could push further. “Attraction,” he murmured against your neck, his lips pressing a lingering kiss there. “Want,” he added, his teeth grazing your breast, earning a sharp gasp from your mouth. “Admiration,” he said, coming back up to meet your eyes and give you a slow, steady kiss. He took your fingers into his mouth and watched your eyes flutter shut, your lips parting.

His voice dipped lower, teasing, and dangerous. “Anyway, is that not what we have been doing?” His hands explored the meat of your ass with a firm grip, his touch both intoxicating and commanding as he pressed himself flush against your core. He shifted against you with a kind of intimacy that had your breath hitching.

“Have you not been loving me all this time?” His words, soft and taunting, carried a heat that matched the tension thrumming between you. His hand moved down between your thighs to scoop your wetness and lick it off his fingers, as he made sure you were watching. “Ah, it seems,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, “you’ve been loving me back all along.”

You trembled under him, your breath catching as your hands gripped his shoulders. A quiet plea escaped your lips, barely audible but filled with vulnerability. “Don’t be mean, Viktor.”

For a moment, he stilled, his expression softening as he pulled back to look at you. His golden eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, held a flicker of something warmer, deeper. “Mean?” he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “No. Not with you.”

The teasing edge in his voice melted away as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, slow and deliberate, as though trying to convey what words couldn’t. He was so bad at talking if you thought he was being mean. His hands cradled your face, and his next words came as a low promise against your skin. “I could never be mean to you.”

You huffed softly, a half-laugh escaping you as memories of all the times he’d actually been mean flitted through your mind. “Liar,” you muttered against his lips, though there was no venom in your tone. Instead, you kissed him back longingly, your fingers threading into his hair as your thighs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer.

Viktor exhaled a shaky breath, his control fraying under your touch. “Perhaps,” he admitted with a faint, self-deprecating smile, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. “But you give as good as you get, don’t you?” he said playfully, reaching over to pull a condom out of his bedside drawer and put it on swiftly. Then, he grabbed a spare pillow to prop his leg. His belly was tied into a knot, teetering on the edge between pain and pleasure, as he placed one hand between where your bodies were going to meet to align himself at the entrance.

He studied your face, as if to check if there was any resistance left. But you only looked at him with wide eyes, your hands fisting the bed sheet. He swept through his body in a final calculation of what could go wrong—he wasn’t drunk, that was a good start. His leg, eh, not perfect, but he should be able to pull this off. Did he want to love you or tease you? He had forgotten which one it was. A shuddery breath escaped him when your bodies finally connected—he entered you slowly, holding back to lay on top of you.

The first thrust was so deliberate, so slow, so overwhelming that you both moaned into each other's mouths. Your brows tied themselves together, your palms stiff in hesitation over his shoulders, as the feeling of relief surged through you. A relief of finally not being empty.

The only movement Viktor allowed himself was the roll of his hips as he sunk inside you, beat after beat. His arms caged you in, one of his hands gripping your shoulder, the other cradling the base of your skull, as he kept your faces close so he could study you, watch you. He stared at you obscenely, taking in your expressions, disbelief wrenching breath out of his lungs. You really wanted him. You were holding him in a vacuous trap, making it hard to pull out and push back in.

And this wasn’t new. People wanted him, he knew that. They wanted him for this—for a fun fuck—and when they continued to want him afterward, it felt like a fluke. So he shut it down. And it made him feel powerful. No, it made him feel weak. It made his weakness powerful. It gave him the power to disappear from it, from himself, to not be present.

The fact that he was present now, attentive, was rather new for him. Not entirely—he’d had a glimpse of what it could be that night when you were high together, but he hadn’t dared breach the boundary of clothing then. This, though, was entirely different. He watched you so carefully, studying every reaction to his touch. He pushed where you gasped and retreated where you winced. Your kisses were as hungry as his, and it made him feel so full. The fuck was more than fun. It made him feel powerful in a way that didn’t make him feel weak.

He tightened his grip, his forehead resting on yours as he buried himself deep inside, thrust after thrust. His mouth open against you, breathing in every gasp, every whimper you were willing to give him. His pace was even, unwavering, as he murmured against your lips, “You’ve been giving me so much grief.”

He locked eyes with you, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze as he added, “But it really feels like you’ve been loving me back. Haven’t you?” His voice was soft, as though waiting for you to answer not just with words, but with the quiet truth in your eyes.

You slid your fingers into his hair, pulling him in for another desperate kiss, and Viktor caught a faint, barely audible ‘yes,’ offered to drown deep in his throat, traveling straight to his heart, as if you were offering him a secret you hadn’t meant to give away. The sound stirred something deep within him, and as you arched against him, your breath catching, he deepened the kiss and quickened his pace. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, murmuring quiet praises, each word filled with reverence as you moved together toward completion.

He slid one hand to the nape of your neck, another snaked itself between your bodies, his fingers parting you as he whispered softly, “Oh, my girl.” Your eyes fluttered shut, arms wrapping around his shoulders and you muffled your own moan against his mouth, lips and noses brushing against each other. He rubbed lazy circles on your clit, a smile blooming on his face when he felt your back arching beneath him, hips pressing upward to meet his, your cunt clenching around his cock in a tight, needy hug.

He felt your thighs squeezing his hips, your walls fluttering, pulling him deeper inside you, with you. You dug her nails into his shoulders, lips parted pressed against his, foreheads pressed together mingling droplets of sweat into one.

You felt a sudden urge to say, “Thank you,” distorted by a loud moan as you came on his cock, on his fingers, your body tensing up and bending to the sound of his name falling from her lips. It took a long time, and you thought it would never stop, your climax blinding, contorting your body around him with a force to bend and crush.

Viktor’s mind got invaded by a thought of how great it felt to make a girl such as yourself lose control over her own muscles. How it had made him grow taller and bigger, his heart swollen with your grace, his lips bruised from your teeth. Slowly, he worked you through each spasm, and when you were ready, he retreated his hand to wrap both arms around you and buried his face in your neck. His breathing jagged, teeth sinking into your shoulder to not say too much at the sudden tightness around his cock.

His rhythm began to stutter, movements growing urgent by the minute as he buried himself within you up to the hilt. His breath was uneven, his muscles flexing and twisting. He felt your core hugging his cock so tight, he couldn’t hold back his own panting, as if he were a teenager all over again. He moved his face to brush against yours, whispered your name again, voice trembling, and he came with one thick, everlasting pang, whimpering weakly into your mouth.

His body melted into yours with a long, contented sigh, his arms wrapped tightly around you, stomachs and chests pressed, rising and falling together. You stayed like that in silence for a few moments, not moving, just touching, just breathing, just being.

Finally, Viktor rolled you both to the side, his leg hooked over your hip, fingers threading through your hair, and gave you an almost solemn look.

“What is this face?” you asked softly, cupping his cheek and brushing your thumb across his lip.

He sucked on it slowly, not breaking eye contact. “I never thought you would be so…” His voice trailed off for a moment, and just as you braced yourself for another joke, he finished, “wonderful.”

You managed only to whisper a quiet “Viktor—,” your grip tightening around him as the weight of this little praise crushed you. As his eyes crushed you, his warmth crushed you, as you crushed yourself with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.

Viktor pulled back just a few inches, his gaze searching yours. “Are you going away for Christmas tomorrow?” he asked, his voice soft, almost tentative. Normal.

You nodded slowly, your fingers still tangled in his hair as you answered, “Yeah.”

“Will you stay?” Please, stay. Please don’t have me wake up alone tomorrow. A weakness crept back in.

You nodded against his neck. A quiet breath escaped Viktor’s lips as he leaned in to kiss your forehead, pulling you back against him. He sighed softly, the sound almost like a weight lifting. He didn’t speak for a few moments, just holding you as if afraid you might disappear if he let go.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice quieter now. “I have no idea how I’m going to explain my absence to Sue though.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a playful smirk, and he raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, his voice teasing. “I’ll just tell her you got really into the holiday spirit and had to spend the night with your favourite TA.”

You chuckled softly, the tension between you easing just a little. “I’m sure she’ll believe that,” you replied, though the words felt lighter now, softer.

Viktor’s expression shifted to one of mock seriousness as he pulled you a little closer. “But tomorrow, when the morning comes,” he said, his voice lowering slightly, “I’ll have to call it in. You caught me drunk, used me for your advantage,” he paused, his eyes glinting with mischief, “and I’ll make sure everyone knows it.”

You let out a small laugh, your face flushing slightly at the absurdity of the situation. “Selling me out already, I see how this will go,” you said, teasing him back. “I’m sure you won’t mind telling them how you practically begged me to stay the night and cuddle you.”

Viktor smiled, but his eyes softened. “I won’t,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your temple again, holding you in the quiet aftermath. The moment felt almost unreal—so intimate, so fragile—and yet, there you were. He wouldn’t dare break it by asking for more. And even though Viktor’s chest was still swollen with fear, his mind drifted to sleep in your arms.

Your own mind, however, was restless. As the high of your connection faded, you woke up early, your thoughts gnawing at you. Viktor was fast asleep, his expression so peaceful that you couldn’t believe he had a bad bone in his body. Yet, you had been stabbed so many times. It wasn’t real, was it? It couldn’t be over, just like that. What if he was right, and you weren’t meant to share the awkwardness of the morning? What if he tried to shrug it off once he woke up? Would you survive if he did?

No. You wouldn’t.

Cursing yourself, you slid out of bed, put your clothes back on, and gave Viktor, who was sleeping soundly, one last glance that tore through your soul. And left.

***

The morning light crept through the gaps in the blinds, painting pale stripes across the sheets. Viktor stirred, his body heavy and warm, though there was an odd hollowness in the bed. He reached out instinctively, the fog of sleep not yet cleared, his fingers brushing against nothing but the cold fabric of the mattress. His eyes blinked open.

The room was silent.

He sat up slowly, scanning the space, the sense of emptiness clawing at him as the realisation began to take shape. You were gone.

The sheets beside him were rumpled, but the space was cold, long abandoned. For a moment, he stared at the spot you’d occupied, trying to convince himself you might still be here. Perhaps you were in the bathroom, or in his tiny kitchen searching for tea—but no sound of movement met his ears.

A chill crept through his chest, spreading outwards, a tight knot forming in his stomach. You left.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his movements clumsy, hurried, his leg straining without the brace. There had to be something—a note, a message, anything that might explain. The bedside table was empty. The dresser? Nothing. Viktor opened a drawer, then another, rifling through with increasing desperation, though he knew even as he searched how ridiculous it was. You wouldn’t leave a note in a drawer.

His gaze snapped to his phone. He lunged for it, unlocking the screen with trembling fingers. Nothing. No missed calls. No texts.

He stood there in the middle of the room, staring at the empty screen. His chest tightened, his breaths coming faster, each one shallower than the last. Of course.

What had he been thinking? That after all his fumbling, after all his glaring flaws, you would stay? That someone like you, bright and untamed, would want someone like him—a man who could barely navigate his own feelings without tripping over them?

Right. His fingers clenched around the phone, the pressure digging into his palm. How stupid. How painfully, pathetically stupid. How weak.

He sank back onto the bed, his head in his hands. The weight of the silence pressed down on him. Every echo in the room seemed to mock him. The bed felt too big now, the walls closing in too fast. His mind replayed your smile, your laugh, the warmth in your eyes last night, and it made his chest ache. How could you think you’d earned something like this?

And yet, beneath the sinking despair, anger simmered. At himself. At you. At the cruel absurdity of it all. You’d kissed him, held him, and for a brief moment, he’d thought you were standing on equal ground. But the truth was stark now, laid bare in her absence: you’d left. Or maybe that was an equal ground, after all. Now, you were truly even.

A sharp knock at the door jolted him from his spiralling thoughts. He didn’t answer immediately, hoping whoever it was would go away, but the knock came again, louder this time.

“Viktor?” Jayce’s familiar voice called from the other side. “You ready? We’ve got to leave in half an hour, mate.”

Viktor swallowed hard; his throat dry. His hands slowly dropped from his face as he stared at the door. Jayce’s voice was too cheerful, too ordinary, too far removed from the storm brewing inside him. He wanted to shout at him, to tell him to go away, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I’ll be ready,” he croaked after a pause, his voice hoarse and thin.

There was silence on the other side of the door for a moment, then the sound of Jayce’s footsteps retreating down the hall. Viktor exhaled shakily, his gaze drifting back to the rumpled sheets beside him. Forcing himself to move, he stood and began to gather his things. Each motion felt mechanical, hollow. The knot in his chest didn’t loosen, but he pushed it down, swallowing it whole. It was almost Christmas. He had to pretend. At least for a little while longer.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Ooh so i was watching "Sawdes" And i thought what if desi reader and Lando watch that movie together and she explains all the small details to him, like the caste system and how rigid it was, and how it actually was in the villages and Lando's like very curious to know about India.

swades ⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

ᡣ𐭩 ln x desi!reader ✬

ᡣ𐭩 fluff ✬

masterlist ☾☼

lando was sprawled out on the couch, legs stretched comfortably over the ottoman, a bowl of popcorn precariously balanced on his lap. the tv flickered with the opening credits of "swades," the soothing hum of the background score filling the cozy living room.

"so, what's this one about again?" lando asked, glancing at you with genuine curiosity.

you settle next to him, tucking your feet in under you. "it's a movie about this indian guy who works for nasa and then goes back to his roots and finds a need to give back to his community."

lando inclines his head. "sounds deep."

you smiled. "it is, but it's also very beautiful and so real."

as the movie started, you noticed lando's brows furrow slightly during the scenes that showed mohan—the protagonist—returning to his village. the dusty roads, the humble huts, and the villagers carrying out their daily routines seemed to intrigue him.

"wait, why's he sitting on the ground?" lando asked during a pivotal scene where a villager refused to sit on the same level as mohan.

you stopped the movie and turned to face him. "that's actually a huge part of india's history—the caste system. it's a strict social hierarchy that has been around for thousands of years. people were divided into different groups based on their jobs, and it determined where they could live, what they could do, and even who they could talk to."

lando's eyes widened. "seriously? that's awful. is it still like that now?"

"not officially," you said, picking at a stray thread on your sweater. "the indian government banned caste discrimination years ago, but in rural areas… it's complicated. traditions and mindsets don't change overnight."

he nodded slowly, digesting your words. "so that's why the guy didn't sit on the bench. he's… lower caste?"

"exactly," you said. "he probably grows up thinking he's not good enough for someone like mohan, who's educated and from the city. it's just sad."

lando sat back, scratching his head. "man, we brits really left a mess behind, huh?"

you snorted, unable to hold in the laugh that had begun to rise. "a bit of an understatement there, lando."

he grinned sheepishly. "alright, alright, point taken. i’ll add it to the list of things i’m apologizing for. right under the tea tax."

the movie continued, and you found yourself explaining more details to lando—how arranged marriages worked in rural India, why electricity and running water were still luxuries in many villages, and the deep cultural significance of festivals like dussehra. lando hung onto every word, his questions reflecting genuine interest.

"it's crazy to think about," he said during intermission. "like, i took so much stuff for granted-growing up—clean water, electricity, just even … being treated as an equal. and then this guy's coming to alter the way an entire village lives its life. inspiring,"

you smiled at him, a warmth spreading through your chest. "that's why i love this movie. it's not just a story; it's a reminder of where we come from and how much work there's still left to do."

"also a reminder that my ancestors were the worst," lando added, giving you a mock-serious look. "you're never letting me live this down, are you?"

"nope," you said, popping a piece of popcorn into your mouth. "you're stuck with me and my history lessons."

By the time the credits rolled, lando was wiping at his eyes, laughing sheepishly when you caught him. "alright, i'll admit… that hit harder than i expected."

you chuckled, leaning into his side. "told you it's a masterpiece."

he looked down at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. "you'll take me there one day, right? to india? i want to see it for myself."

your heart swelled at his sincerity. "absolutely. but only if you're ready for a sensory overload-the crowds, the colours, the chaos."

lando grinned. "bring it on. as long as i've got you to explain everything."

you smiled, reaching for his hand. "always."

you then realized just how lucky you were-to share a piece of your world with someone who cared enough to listen, to learn, and to embrace it wholeheartedly.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

i tried to add a little humour in this, but like, the movie itself is really serious, so i kept the fic a little serious too. i hope you like it! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1

[cheriladycl01]

Fast Cars on the Island - Oscar Piastri x LoveIslandContestant! Reader Part 4

Plot: Your an engineer for Mclaren and you were asked as a PR stunt to go onto Love Island. You would keep your job of course but Mclaren wanted some more media traction.

A/N: I know they would never do this, and that's why its fiction!

Around the fire pit:

“Oh god I’m so nervous? They didn’t say genders or anything” Zavi cries looking towards you as the boys start to take their seats.

“What do you think it will be?” Charlie asks you and you shrug, having no idea how the producers would sway it. Two boys, two girls or a boy and a girl. Whatever they did at this point would stir up some kind of drama.

“I’m not sure, but I think it will probably be one of each” you hand him a small smile.

“I think you might be right Y/N” Aaron smiles at you before getting some nods from the other girls.

“It just makes the most logical sense to me, and then that way it still is the girls choice” you smile nodding.

“Why am I so nervous!” Millie exclaims shaking your shoulders a little. She sits next to Daniel who wraps an arm around her shoulder.

After more conversing, the sound of the sliding glass doors to the Villa make all your heads turn seeing a guy and girl walk out through the curtains.

“Hey!” the girl cheerily smiles with a little wave.

“Sup” the guy next to her cheekily smiles before making their way over to the fire pit.

“Hiya! Omg it’s so exciting to have you here! Please introduce yourself!” Auriela gestures for them to take seats around the fire pit.

The guy sits in between Aaron and Zavi, whilst Chelsea sits in between you and Chris.

“I’m Max, I’m 26 and I work as a secondary school maths teacher” the guy smiles and your head snaps to him in shock, with a small giggle. You could imagine all of his students finding out he was in love island and teasing the hell out of him for it.

“Im Chelsea I’m 25 and I’m a Tattoo Artist” she offers and you all nod.

You all talk, getting to know the two newbies whilst still finding stuff out about the current contestants.

Two phones ping simultaneously from Max and Chelsea making you all nervously fidget. You knew from having watched the show that it would be the two new islanders either choosing dates or the public choosing them dates.

“Max, please get ready for two dates tonight chosen by public choice. You’ll have your main course with Millie and your dessert with Y/N” he reads out the text and you look up in shock.

Were the public trying to make your life harder than it already was in this Villa. You weren’t ready for the drama that would most likely unfold.

“Chelsea please get ready for two dates tonight chosen by public choice. You’ll have your main course with Aaron and your dessert with Charlie” Chelsea reads out.

And with that you watched as Millie left with Max and Chelsea left with Aaron for their first dates. You immediately walked over to Daniel to comfort him.

“Hey, look I know it’s not fun” you sigh patting his back and he looks down.

“Is it bad of me to admit I’m more worried about going home this early on than possibly loosing Millie?” He jokes but you know what he means, people who went out this early on never felt like that had a full shot.

“I get that, and I think you being a lot to the Villa Daniel, despite it being night one i can see a friend in you that extends to outside this villa” you smile at him.

“Yeah me too” he nods.

“Look, you deserve to stay in if Millie gets chosen AND Aaron gets chosen by Chelsea. I’ll pick you any day of the week” you smile at him nudging his side teasingly, but he has a serious look on his face.

“Thank you Y/N seriously!” He says pulling you into a hug.

Lando and Oscar:

“Woah, talk about bombshells” Lando says chewing on a sweet that Oscar had brought over to his hotel room. It had became a weekly Sunday thing for them after races to watch you on the TV. It was kind of a weird feeling seeing you in these kinds of places and in this way when they were used to you in team gear around the paddock looking at data or fixing the car.

“Who do you recon they’ll end up with?” Oscar asks.

“What the newbies?” Lando replies finally taking his eyes of the screen. Oscar just nods letting Lando know that is what he meant.

“I recon Chelsea will choose Aaron and then Max will choose Millie, and Y/N is the type to go back on her word so she’ll end up with Daniel and both get to Casa Amore together if they have too” Lando explains as if he is an expert.

“Interesting” Oscar admits, only thinking of Casa Amore, when 4 new islanders for each gender came to the villa.

Back at the Villa:

It was time for your date with Max and both you and Charlie walked out the Villa together before turning in separate directions.

You walked up to a little gazebo with foliage and fairy lights around it, it was a really nice set up and you couldn’t help but feel lucky to have a date in such a nice area.

Throwing yourself into your career meant that you didn’t really have time to experience all the countries you got to see with someone else. It was always you alone.

“This is really nice” you smile to him.

“Yeah i wish I could take credit for it but definitely can’t” he laughs and you guys end up having a really good night. You ask him about teaching only to find out his students had no idea he’d come into the tv show.

And before you know it, it’s time to go back.

You were all sat around the campfire apart from Chelsea and Max who were stood next to each other ready to choose.

“I’m choosing this guy because he was really genuine and sweet on our date and I can see myself progressing furthest with him as of right now. We connected a lot on the date and I believe he is the right choice”

“The boy i would like to couple up with is Aaron” Chelsea finishes and Aaron begrudgingly goes to stand next to her after sharing small eye contact with you.

Max goes next a smile on his face.

“So the girl I want to couple up with, made me feel like we had a connection straight away. Talking to her was so natural and I felt like this is the right choice. I’m not normally one to step on people’s toes but it’s a really different environment in here and I’ve come at a really difficult point of the show”

“So the girl I have chosen to couple up with is Millie” he smiles and Millie looks down but you can tell she is smiling and blushing. You caught eyes with Daniel who didn’t look to put of by the situation. He nods to you, communication of what you’d do at the recoupling now it had swung the way you thought it would.

You were slightly gutted that Aaron was now coupled up and it felt like you two were never actually going to have a chance together.

You heard was all over the place, was this still just PR or were you actually wanting to find someone in here … and was that someone Aaron.

“Okay, in this order from yesterdays challenge the girls will pick who they want to couple up with. Auriela, Zavi, and Y/N” the presenter says and Auriela stands up.

“So I’ve been coupled up with this guy from the start and I want to see where things go as we’ve been having loads of fun getting to know one another, we have loads in common and I can’t wait to see where this goes. The boy id like to couple up with is Chris” Auriela smiles.

Zavi stands up next, looking a little nervous.

“So I want to couple up with this boy because our chats in the Villa lately have seriously changed my opinion on him. He’s really sweet and caring and I don’t think he was given a proper first chance so the boy id like to couple up with is …” she pauses as if she’s debating what she’s going to do.

“Charlie” and gasps come around, no one having expected her to have gone with him.

Lando and Oscar:

“NO WAY! That’s crazy! I thought she was going to stay with that Jai” Oscar exclaims.

“Dude you could tell with those conversations they were having yesterday they were getting it on” Lando chuckles taking a sip of his Red Bull.

“I thought they were just getting to know each other!” Oscar explains to him, not having seen the longing eyes shared or the flirty undertones.

“And that my friend is why you got nowhere with Y/N when she was here” Lando teases, and it was supposed to be a joke but they both knew there was some truth behind that.

Back in the Villa:

“Okay it’s time for our final girl, to choose who she will end up with. Very strange circumstance for you Y/N” the presenter says as you stand up at the front.

“Yeah it’s been an interesting one that’s for sure. And I think I haven’t fully been able to make connections yet which is a shame and I want to be stable going into the next recoupling after this and I think discussions were held before about what I was going to do depending on the outcome of Max and Chelsea’s choices, this is a game and I have to be strategic so the boy id like to couple up with is Daniel” you smile and he comes up to you, to finally stand next to you and kisses your temple.

“Thank you” he whispers and you just smile and nod.

“I always keep my promises” you smile tugging on his arm in a friendly way.

You all start to say goodbye to Jai, sad that one of the original islanders was gone before heading off to your new sleeping arrangements.

“Night islanders” Charlie shouts as he cuddles Zavi from the back grinning like a school boy before he pulls her down and under the covers.

A chorus of replies cross the room before the lights dim for the night.

You and Daniel quietly talk to each other about the day, trying not to disturb your fellow islanders before sleep finds the both of you.

Lando and Oscar:

“I’m guess what she does within McLaren will come out soon… PR have a close eye on this, for obvious reasons” Oscar observes making Lando laugh.

“Yeah I’m pretty sure they’d have a field day if she started having sex on camera while being under the McLaren name. PR nightmare” Lando chuckles but it makes Oscar freeze.

He forgot how raunchy the dating show could be, and he couldn’t help but he jealous of anyone on the show who got even the tiniest bit closer to that than he ever did.

“The headlines would ruin her” Oscar agrees with a shudder whilst they continue to watch on as the credits roll for this weekends episode.

A/N: A lot of people are suggesting Oscar go into the Villa and he will, but … only when the time is right :)

Also sorry I haven’t posted on a while, going from being on holiday to the chaos of moving into a new house I haven’t had much time lately.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[angstywaifu]

hey ....love your content...can you do one where how the fourth wing men would reject the reader...i understand if you don't want to tho

This was harder than I thought. We always look at these boys in such positive lights (to some extent). But I think I figured it out. You would also think for someone who literally just finished their reread of Fourth Wing this would be easy.... It wasn't.

Rejection - HC's Fourth Wing Boys

Garrick

Garrick wouldn’t beat around the bush. He’d be pretty upfront and straightforward while choosing words that wouldn’t hurt you unnecessarily. He respects those close to him and would want to handle the situation with dignity

He is also grounded and logical, so he would most likely give a reason for the rejection if its appropriate.

Despite rejecting you he would try to leave things on a good note, ensuring there is no lingering awkwardness

Bodhi

Bodhi would try to keep things light hearted to ease the tension. More than likely trying to use some humour to soften the blow, while also being upfront with his feelings

Bodhi would appreciate your courage for admitting your feelings, he knows it wouldn’t have been easy.

He would definitely comfort you afterwards if you let him, not wanting to leave you hurt or any awkwardness between you.

Xaden

He’s not the kind to sugar coat things, and often keeps his emotions in check. He would probably be pretty blunt but in a respectful way. He would want very little drama to come from this

He’d definitely offer you some reasons why, most likely to do with not having time and leading a rebellion and all that. But he probably wouldn’t give too much away about his true feelings

Liam

Despite being straight forward, Liam would approach the situation in a calm and respectful manner, not wanting to hurt you more than necessary. He would be direct but kind, and do his best to explain why.

Afterwards he would respect your boundaries to try make it easier, but he would still do what he could to make sure you were ok after. Getting your friends to check in on you, doing little things for you that wouldn’t lead directly back to him to not get your hopes up.

Dain

Dain is a strategist and often tends to act based on logic than his emotions unless pushed. His rejection would likely be influenced by a rational decision rather than his own personal feelings. Most likely noting practicality or necessity than it being personal

He wouldn’t want to appear vulnerable or conflicted, most likely hiding any emotions towards the situation.

While he might acknowledge the rejection would be painful for you, he definitely isn’t dwelling on the situation and would most likely avoid any conversations around it if it came up again.

Brennan

He would be kind and gentle in his approach to the rejection. Expressing his feelings with care, and making sure you didn’t feel hurt or rejected on a personal level, and making it clear that the decision is not a reflection of your worth. He would reassure you that you deserve love and happiness.

He would definitely offer you some emotional support after, making sure you feel heard and cared for. But he would leave that up to you, leaving the door open for if you want to seek comfort in him and the friendship you still have or with others.

Ridoc

He wouldn’t make the rejection feel like a huge, dramatic event. He would keep it light, and definitely cracking multiple jokes to try defuse the tension. Kindness but with a touch of humour.

Despite his easy going nature he would still be considerate and wouldn’t take the jokes too far (though you never know with Ridoc).

He’d definitely go back to normal afterwards though, acting as if nothing was any different between you two so no one would be none the wiser.

Sawyer

Sawyer would be upfront, but try keep the mood light. He would be kind and considerate. His natural charm would kick in, making sure to point out their great qualities and making sure they know its nothing to do with them.

Afterwards he would make sure to avoid any mixed signals towards you, not wanting to lead you astray. But you two are definitely remaining friends after (though lets be honest, you’d still be friends with all these boys after).