#like if you want your sports team to win the big game you bring a sports ball to saint Thaddeus for good luck

[txrully]

hii! I was wondering if i could request request a professional/upcoming volleyball player reader w blue lock boys?

thank you! do this whenever you free💕

ahhh tysm for your request anon!

actually my first time getting a request 🥹🩷

BLLK BOYS WITH A VOLLEYBALL PLAYER!

chars.: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, itoshi rin, hiori yo, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, alexis ness x gn!reader

( although reader is specified as fem in reo, shidou, and kaiser's parts.)

isagi yoichi

this man is obsessed with how you spike. like, borderline analysis mode every time you land a killer shot.

tries so hard to cheer you on during your games, but he’s also yelling tips from the sidelines like he’s your coach.

“nice spike, y/n!! BUT WATCH YOUR BACK LEFT—"

you once invited him to play volleyball, and he absolutely faceplanted while diving for the ball. his soccer instincts don’t always translate well.

lowkey jealous of how you dominate the court but 100% supportive—he’s your number-one fan, and he makes sure you know it.

bachira meguru

oh, he’s playing volleyball with you whether you like it or not.

turns every warmup into an opportunity to spike balls at you for fun.

“c’mon, y/n! block this one! oh, wait—oops, too fast?” giggles maniacally

definitely tries to incorporate soccer dribbling into volleyball. ( spoiler: it doesn’t work, but he thinks it’s hilarious )

somehow, he convinces you to play beach volleyball with him, and he dives into the sand just to make dramatic saves.

chigiri hyoma

he thinks volleyball is artistic—the way you move across the court? beautiful.

he’s not one for loud cheering, but his quiet, supportive claps when you win a point mean everything.

if you challenge him to play volleyball, he absolutely crushes it. His speed makes him terrifying at the net.

you might tease him for being too graceful, and he’ll shoot back with, “at least I don’t trip over my own feet, y/n.”

secretly memorizes your favorite post-game snacks and brings them to every match.

nagi seishiro

volleyball? too much effort. but watching you? sure, he can do that.

if you manage to drag him onto the court, he still dominates because his height makes him impossible to block. he doesn’t even try that hard, which makes it even more annoying.

“huh? i didn’t even jump that high…”

lowkey flexes how good he is when he wants to impress you though.

your games are one of the few things he’ll willingly stay awake for—he’s surprisingly proud when you win, even if he doesn’t say much.

mikage reo

treats your volleyball career like a business venture—he’s always hyping you up to sponsors and teams.

“did you know y/n scored 15 points last game? absolute MVP material.”

if you’re stressed about a big game, he’ll find a way to rent out a fancy gym for you to practice in.

when you win a match, he spoils you—dinner, gifts, whatever you want. you deserve it.

totally brags about you to the blue lock boys, claiming, “she could beat all of you on the court, no question.”

itoshi rin

at first, he doesn’t get why you’re so into volleyball—it’s not soccer, so why bother?

then he watches you play. big mistake. now he’s hooked. he won’t admit it, but he’s insanely proud when you dominate on the court.

refuses to join any friendly volleyball matches because he’s hyper-competitive and will lose it if he makes a mistake.

“volleyball isn’t even my sport, so why would I care if I mess up?”

( spoiler: he cares. a lot. )

secretly watches your games to pick apart your technique, then casually suggests improvements.

“you could be faster on your back-row defense.”

if someone mocks you during a game, rin’s death glare activates, and you have to hold him back from starting a fight.

hiori yo

he’s your calm and quiet supporter who loves the strategy of volleyball.

offers to help you study your opponents before big games and creates detailed notes about their playing styles.

if you’re feeling down after a tough match, hiori has the perfect playlist to cheer you up—it’s borderline magical.

you two bond over the mental aspect of sports, discussing how to stay focused under pressure.

lowkey amazing at volleyball when you play casually together. his precision makes him an insane setter, and he always puts the ball exactly where you need it.

your games are one of the few things he actively looks forward to, and he’s not shy about letting you know how proud he is of you.

shidou ryusei

this menace turns your volleyball practices into pure chaos. he spikes every ball like he’s trying to break the sound barrier.

“c’mon, y/n, don’t be scared! It’s just a little power spike!”

he has zero chill when watching your games.

he’s yelling from the stands, making the wildest comments, and hyping you up louder than anyone else.

“THAT’S MY GIRL! DESTROY THEM!!”

shidou’s energy is unmatched, and while it’s chaotic, it’s also incredibly motivating.

if anyone talks smack about your playing, they better run because shidou takes it personally.

itoshi sae

in the beginning, he acts indifferent—volleyball isn’t soccer, so why should he care?

but once he sees your precision and skill, his interest is piqued. he starts showing up to your games, claiming he’s “just passing by.”

he’s annoyingly good at volleyball when you play together. his smug smirk when he blocks your spikes is enough to make you want to scream.

“was that your best, y/n? try harder.”

despite his teasing, sae respects your dedication and often gives you genuine advice on handling pressure during big matches.

after a win, he’ll give you a subtle nod and say, “good job.”

( that’s basically a love confession coming from him. )

michael kaiser

volleyball? amateur sport. but you? an exception. he’s intrigued by how passionate you are about it.

always finds a way to make everything a competition—“i bet i’d be better at volleyball than you in a week.”

ends up eating his words when you destroy him during a friendly match. he’s so salty about it but tries to play it cool.

“i let you win. don’t get cocky, liebe.”

he calls you his “queen of the court” and insists on showing up to your games in the flashiest outfits, drawing attention everywhere.

secretly loves seeing you in your element and is constantly impressed, though he’ll only admit it in private.

alexis ness

the most polite and supportive fanboy you could ask for. he’s always clapping and smiling during your games.

if you’re nervous before a match, ness is the one calming you down with his soothing words and quiet confidence in you.

he’s surprisingly good at volleyball basics and helps you practice when you need a setter. his gentle encouragement makes training with him a joy.

“you’ve got this, y/n. i believe in you more than anyone.”

keeps a journal of your games where he writes down highlights and his favorite moments—it’s his way of showing how much he cares.

gets a little flustered when you thank him for his support but brushes it off with a shy smile.

© 𝘁𝘅𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 :: 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰

𝘥𝘰 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴.

[roseofhybrids]

One of the bigger parts of this idea I'm not sure about is who exactly is still alive 1500 years later

like Uzi, N, and V of course, and J is also a disassembly drone so her too. Nori also has the solver, so would make sense for her to still be around if the disassembly drones are

but then there's Khan, Lizzy, and Thad

so far, I think there's two ways to go about it:

option 1, being normal worker drones, they all grow old and eventually pass on, and the immortals just have to live with that

option 2, Uzi puts them through a similar procedure to what CYN did with the alphabet trio, but with less trauma and mutations. Basically, she infects them with the less version of solver that the disassembly drones were given, but doesn't give them the new limbs (unless they ask for a tail or something) option 2B, Uzi adds them to the solver hivemind after they die and can make holograms of them to chat now and then. They are still themselves, they just don't have bodies and their minds live in the solver cloud thing (this option leaves room for Doll to come back, since she got slurped by the solver and all)

on one hand, the first option gives some gravity/consequences to them living this long. They still have each other, but inevitably they have to watch loved ones leave them, and they have to just sorta move on after

but on the other hand, this is already a crack idea, so might as well have those guys still around. Happy ending, everyone lives forever. It could also be a situation where, the drone has to die first and come back as a zombie drone before the solver can be added to them. Meaning only some drones can be made immortal, and that it's really up to chance whether their software decides to spontaneously revive them (which would also fix the logistical problem of them making all their descendants and loved ones immortal, because if no one ever dies but are still having kids eventually you're gonna run out of room)

I lean slightly towards the first option because, as I said, consequences of immortality

but also I think 1500+ year old Thad and Lizzy would be really funny

[b14augrana]

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Your story goes deeper than what meets Alexia’s eye

Alexia Putellas x teen!reader

pt. 2 masterlist

Warnings: this story contains depictions of alcoholism, adultery, and familial issues. read at your own discretion. aditionally, alexia is pretty mean in this and there wont be a happy ending for a few parts 😬

A/N: massive thank you to this request for the amazing idea 🫶🏼. r is 18 y/o but still going under teen!reader. this is going to be multiple parts because theres so much i could do for this request that i find impossible to fit into one part and write to a good standard, so here you go!

The Stands

Football unites the world. It brings people, cities, and countries together, like nothing else.

You’ve seen it happen in your beautiful hometown of Barcelona — all you can see during the hours leading up to any match set to be played in the Camp Nou is red and blue in the sky. Blaugrana painted the streets below, and the entire city came alive with the commotion from the stadium.

You spent your entire childhood being part of the roaring atmosphere, waving your Barça flag proudly in the air alongside every other flag and wearing the infamous colours across your chest.

Most of all, you prayed with every bit of faith in you, that one day you’d be on the pitch, playing for the club of your dreams.

Everyone in the crowd had their own individual life. There could be a single mother, a lawyer who used up his last days of leave to attend the match, a young boy with his father, an elderly person on an outing with his wife, someone from abroad who’s spent thousands and travelled for hours to watch their favourite player in real life.

11 players could bring together almost 100,000 people just to watch them kick a ball around, and you wanted to have the same effect. You wanted to be so good at football and have the ability to transform a simple sport about kicking a ball around into 90 minutes of entertainment, performance, art. You wanted to do it with Barcelona.

You trained meticulously for months. You passed your small, worn out ball against the same fence in your backyard, you practiced your touch by juggling until the frustration made you storm away in tears and you learned new skills and used your own shoes as cones to pose as defenders and dribble around.

When you went to the Camp Nou to trial for the renowned La Masia academy, you were little and clutching your FC Barcelona backpack for support. The stadium already looked so big when you were up in the stands, but when it was empty and you were actually on the pitch, it was even bigger. You were stood on the same grass as your idols that once had the same dream as you, and that was unbelievable.

The start of your journey as a player at FC Barcelona had begun.

Day after day, you woke up early for training. Your siblings were never awake at that time, so the rare moment of peaceful alone time with your mother was something you looked forward to every morning.

She drove you to the La Masia facilities and then picked you up at sunset. Sometimes, when she had to work late, you and some of your teammates would go to the park and play with the other local kids until your parents came.

Those were the same teammates that you got promoted to the B team with, and the evening 5-a-side games in the park never stopped. They were your best friends — you all shared a common dream of getting to the first team and playing in big tournaments and winning titles, and even though you realistically wouldn’t all be able to do that, no one ever stopped believing that one day it would happen.

As you grew up and your career just started to take off, things started to change. Not just in football, but your life off the pitch too. All at the age of thirteen.

Your father started coming home late. As if your mother was stupid, he’d waltz into the house in the middle of the night, claiming he had to stay a little late because a last minute meeting was called or he lost track of the time. The mild arguments started, and when the late arrivals became more frequent, your mother’s suspicions grew stronger.

One night, it came to a halt. Just when you stopped expecting it, he came home at his regular time; half past six. The only difference was, he didn’t look happy to be home at all. A frown tainted his face ans there was something off-putting about his demeanour. Soon, it all made sense.

You watched from around the corner, your head barely peeking out. Your dad shrugged his blazer off, and you noticed the way his mouth twitched as if hesitating to say something. Once he spoke, a big part of you wished he hesitated a bit more and realised down the line that he was making a bad decision, but it was too late.

The reason he was working late, the secrecy, the floral smells that lingered on his shirts; he was never working overtime, the floral smells were not from the diffuser in the office, and he did have something to hide.

It was called infidelity.

Your siblings emerged from their rooms as soon as the cacophonous yelling started, and you were quick to usher them away from the arguing.

The reality of how bad the situation really was hadn’t yet settled in, but you knew the outcome wasn’t going to be good.

Your youngest brother complained about his rumbling stomach, and the other two were quick to jump on the hunger train. For a moment you were stumped, because you didn’t want to go into the kitchen where the argument was taking place and get dragged into it, so your solution was grabbing a €50 bill and sneaking out to the nearest restaurant.

You were the oldest of four kids. After you was one of two boys, Lorenzo, and then the twins, Magdalene and Dani. They shared the same passion for football as you, and your fondest memories consisted on being in the stands of Camp Nou with them.

All of you snagged a table in a cozy restaurant, one you were familiar with due to going there multiple times with the rest of your family.

The hour you spent in that restaurant with your siblings turned out to be the last hour of a carefree life you’d get to indulge in.

The Pitch

You turned 18 last week, but you got promoted to the first team last month. The headlines painted you as an emblem of success for Barça’s youth programme, the future captain of the first team, and there were all these opinions flying around about you as a player. The opinion that mattered most, though, was that of your captain.

You and Alexia Putellas didn’t get along. Her opinion on you was nothing short of disapproving, and she let you know of that as you arrived at practice.

“(Y/N),” the woman said, her voice holding notes of irritation as she approached you. You looked at her, preparing yourself for the inevitable lecture.

“You’re late again. You might be young, but over here you’re the same as all of us no matter your age, which means getting to training at the same time as us,” she berated you, her hands set on her hips and her eyebrows furled in annoyance.

“Look, captain, I had to–” you started, but your explanation was cut short by Alexia.

“I don’t have time for your excuses. Do better next time, or you’re sitting out of practice entirely. Go run your laps,” she snarled, dismissing you with a wave of her hand.

You could only watch in anger as she stormed away while the others looked at you sympathetically, and you bit your tongue as you walked to the locker room and dumped your bag in your cubby.

She belittled you in every interaction you two had, which was a shame because you really liked her beforehand. In fact, you looked up to her, and you looked forward to being captained by her, but now it was hell on earth every time you entered the gates and met her scrutinising gaze.

Training was nothing special. It was the same old passing drills, small-sided games, shooting and free kick practice, and then before you knew it, home time.

You slung your bag over your shoulder and left before Alexia could stop you and give you yet another lecture. After stopping at the primary school to pick up Magdalene and Dani, you three drove to the middle school to pick up Lorenzo. Barcelona rush hour was rife around the time you picked up your siblings, so you spent another half an hour stuck in traffic until you finally got home.

All you wanted was your bed, and a nap. Still, you dragged yourself to the kitchen to make something quick for dinner so it was ready for your siblings when they were hungry, and then you tidied up in the living room.

Ever since your dad left, your mother was a wreck, leaving you as the successor to her caretaking duties of the kids. She was never a drinker, but after he left, she found herself depending on alcohol for a quick escape.

It was nice for a little bit; a short break from the world that always ended too soon. She kept chasing and chasing that relief until she was in too deep, and it was never enough. The bottles multiplied, the cans lined the rubbish bins, the stench polluted the air that once smelled of a fresh vanilla essence, and she became latched onto it.

You blamed your father for it all, because it was his unchastity that motivated every drink. Your mother was a beautiful woman who loved her family more than herself.

That was what ruined her.

“Hermana, hermana,” Magdalene spoke, tugging on the sleeve of your shirt. You looked down just as you turned off the stove, and she rubbed her stomach, “I’m hungry.”

“Okay hermanita, ask the boys if they’re hungry, please,” you replied, smiling at her. She nodded and ran to their bedrooms, and soon they all emerged from around the corner.

After scooping generous amounts of macaroni and cheese onto their plates, you put some onto your plate and sat down with your siblings to eat. Together, you all talked about your busy days and they listened to you tell them all about your training. They loved hearing your stories about Barça, and every time, Magdalene and Dani would ask you to continue your stories until they fell asleep.

Tonight was no different as you tiptoed out of the twins’ bedroom, gently shutting the door behind you. As much as you loved sleeping after a long day, part of you also dreaded it, because it meant starting a new day and facing Alexia.

When you woke up, it was to gentle knocking on your bedroom door. You were awake enough to comprehend the quiet pattering of footsteps across your hardwood floors, and when tiny hands grazed your skin, you jolted awake. “Hermana, time to wake up! School time!” Magdalene chimed.

So your morning routine began.

With one sock and half your jacket over your head, you made three lunches for the kids right after making their breakfast. Your mother slowly slumped out of her bedroom, wrapping her robe tight around her.

“Bon día,” she mumbled, a smile on her face. With a glance over your shoulder, you acknowledged her before going back to slicing two oranges.

“Morning, mamá,” your siblings responded quietly, shoving food into their mouths to avoid speaking any further. She sat on the couch, sighing deeply.

As she walked past you, you could immediately recognise the stench of alcohol — no surprises there. Years ago, she would’ve smelled like warm musky perfume, not the pungent smell of chemicals.

“Can you make me something, hija? ‘M very hungry,” she said to you, looking your way. You kept your head down, sealing the lunchboxes and cleaning up the counter.

“No, ma, I have things to do. Make your own breakfast,” you responded coldly, “Hermanita, pequeños, bring your dishes here.”

Your siblings scrambled from the table with their empty plates, giving them a quick wash before retreating to their rooms to get their uniform on. On the couch, your mother was still begging for food.

“Hija.. I’m hungry,” the woman slurred.

“Mamá, I have to get your kids to school and go to my own job, which my captain is already angry at me for being late because I have to drive them all around Barna,” you hissed.

“Then I have to come home and make dinner after cleaning your mess. You can make your own breakfast, for once!”

You always felt bad for yelling at your mum, but your life was hard enough with trying to get to work and drop off your three siblings in time while worrying about making your mum a meal.

You had a chance at life. You had a chance to succeed, and you weren’t going to waste it. You weren’t going to rely on a man to look after you in the future until he turns around and wants to look after another woman, leaving you damned.

“Bye, mamá,” you grumbled, grabbing your keys from the bench and swooping your boot bag up from the floor.

It was Dani’s turn to pick which song to play on the radio on the drive to school. He chose a very popular song within your siblings; ‘Me Gustas Tu’. The song had been broadcasted on the radio one day, and everyone seemed to love it. Their favourite part of car rides to school was winding the windows down and singing as loud as they’d like.

Somehow, amongst your father leaving and your mother’s new habits, your siblings were always happy, and that’s what you admired most about them. Maybe they were unaware of the harsh reality, but they were still naïve and unscathed by everything that happened.

It was almost 9:30 in the morning when you started making your way to the training pitch. Mentally, you were preparing yourself for the big lecture you were about to get from Alexia and seriously didn’t need, but physically, you looked unbothered if not a bit tense in the shoulders.

You almost tripped on your way out of the car as you rushed around to get your gear. Walking into training everyday just to get yelled at by Alexia was never nice, but you were used to it. Unfortunately.

That wasn’t the sort of relationship a captain should have with one of her players. It was almost like she despised you, and if she had her way, you probably would’ve been off the team within the first week.

Sure enough, when you appeared on the pitch, the first thing you heard was the low whispers beside you.

“…She’s irresponsible and doesn’t belong on the first team. Being late once, I understand, but multiple times? Her excuses are not good enough–”

“Excuses? Ale, you’ve never let her explain herself.”

“There shouldn’t be any need for excuses anyways, because she shouldn’t be late at all. If she wants to take her time and be let off easy like a child, send her back to the B team. Look, she isn’t even here yet.”

“She is, though. Look behind you.”

The woman turned around, her glare settling on you and being as cold as ever. She spun her whole body around and folded her arms across her chest, her frown heavy.

You sighed, looking down to your feet. It made you feel even worse that you couldn’t help it, and you couldn’t explain it to her either, because that action had potential to get your siblings taken away.

“Drop your bag, get comfortable. You’re not training today,” she snapped.

Your heart sunk. You fought to fend off any tears from forming on your waterline as you nodded, raising your head slightly.

“Listen, (Y/N). This team is everything to me. I have lots of respect for the people who coach us and come here to be coached. You, showing up late? That shows a lack of respect for those people. You’re lazy, unorganised, irresponsible–”

Irresponsible was untrue. If anything, you were the most responsible person you’ve ever known, but Alexia didn’t know that because she didn’t care to know you.

“…I can’t expect you to represent our club and our city on big stages if you can’t even come to training on time. You aren’t FC Barcelona material, and unless things change, you never will be.”

Your lip quivered as your body aligned to bolt for the locker room as soon as she left you alone, away from the watchful eyes that surveyed you in pity when had you arrived. Alexia turned on her heel and stormed away past Mapi, whom she was talking to previously.

She left you in her wake, crestfallen and misunderstood, defeated by circumstances beyond your control.

[wttcsms]

switchin' the positions for you, osamu miya

pairing osamu miya x f!reader word count 2k synopsis osamu miya says you've got a lot to learn, rookie, and he's more than happy to teach you. content contains creampie, pet names (baby, good girl), slight praise kink (reader receiving), fwb to lovers, multiple positions, tennis player!reader author's notes to the requester: you know who you are, girl. give the masses (me) what i want: you to become a writer!!!

“Fuck.” Osamu hisses out the word like it burns to have it escape through his gritted teeth. “D’ya like that, baby?” 

You can’t give him a coherent answer; it’s kind of hard to hold a conversation with him when he’s got you sitting all snug on his lap, cockhead hitting that special sensitive spot of yours that you never knew you had until you start your little arrangement with him. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’s the only person capable of reducing you to a hot, whiny mess but when you instinctually tighten up around his cock, he lets out a soft, smug laugh. 

His warm breath tickles your ear when he leans down to tell you, “Told ya I’d teach you a thing or two.” 

You try to tilt your head back so your eyes can meet his. You don’t like looking up to people, but Osamu is just so big. You’re sitting on him, pussy clamping down on his fat cock that’s buried snugly inside of you, your back pressed against his muscular chest. The man owns a restaurant; surely hauling all those massive rice bags couldn’t have possibly given him this figure. You want to make a face, let him know that his “I told you so” is not appreciated, but when he makes eye contact with you, he gives you a smirk — a warning. A split second later, he thrusts up, and you can’t hold back your moan. 

He did that on purpose, you think to yourself. He’s always baiting you, always waiting for the right moment to catch you off guard. You’re a favorite to win the Japan’s Women’s tennis tournament; no one catches you off guard. 

But when you’re out on the road, traveling with your team, and your starvation-induced tantrum leads to your coach making a pitstop to some hole-in-the-wall restaurant named Onigiri Miya, you learn that it is possible for someone to trip you up. 

“So you’re the girl with the killer serve,” is what he says the first time he’s taking your order. “You don’t look like much of a killer to me.” 

You’re pissed, hungry, and still upset over hearing the men’s team talk about how you look good in your skirt and should consider modeling for Sports Illustrated instead of trying to make it big in tennis. You’re frowning when you tell him, “Are you the owner of this restaurant?” 

“Yep.” 

“Doesn’t look like much of a restaurant to me.” In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t be rude to the man handling your food. 

“It’s up and coming.” He says, eyes looking you up and down in a way that makes you suddenly very, very hyper aware of how fitted your top and how short your skirt is. He’s not ogling you; he’s sizing you up. Like you’re a challenge. “It’ll look it soon enough.” 

You like a good challenge. 

When you come back the next week, high off your victory, you walk through the doors of Onigiri Miya, smug and prideful. 

The feeling intensifies whenever he tells you he saw your game, but you’re immediately dissatisfied when he hits you with a, “Ya still got a lot to learn, though.” 

Your first lesson? Taking three of his thick fingers knuckle-deep in your pussy as your back is pressed against the wall of the storage room of Onigiri Miya. There’s only one single light bulb flickering in the darkness of the pantry, but you don’t focus on that. Instead, you focus on the searing heat from between your thighs, too eager to chase after pleasure to care about the fact that you’re so wet, you can hear every thrust. 

You’re so close to cumming, you find yourself moving your hips upwards, trying to bring yourself to release even faster. He immediately stops his ministrations, making an annoyed sound of clear disapproval.

“You need to learn how to stop bein’ so damn greedy.” His words come out as a raspy whisper, and when your walls involuntarily clench around his fingers, there’s a small noise that seems to come from the back of his throat. He’s holding himself back. 

Somehow, the fact that you have a strong effect on him as well makes you so pleased, you find yourself gripping his shoulder as you disobediently grind against his fingers yourself, letting out a loud whine as you cum all over his hand. 

With heated cheeks and heavy breathing, you let Osamu Miya know that being greedy is what makes you such a star player. You don’t get by with just taking what’s given to you; everything, from points on the court to a more-than-satisfactory orgasm, is yours for the taking. 

You don’t expect him to just smile at your prideful remark, and you certainly don’t expect him to remove his fingers from you, hold them up to the light so you can both admire the way his index, middle, and ring fingers are glistening with your juices, before he licks the pads of them. 

Is the room heating up? Did the air conditioning suddenly break? You feel hotter than usual as you watch the vulgar display, and you should be ashamed of the way your knees are already weak from hitting your climax, ashamed of the way you have to press your thighs together so he doesn’t catch the way you’re already anticipating a round two. 

“Have a taste, baby.” He’s grinning, smiling like the damn devil himself, as he extends his hand, brings the tips of his fingers to your lips. You shake your head no, not trusting yourself to speak. 

He pretends to sound disappointed. “No?” Then with a shrug and a smug more for me then, he licks the rest of your essence off of his fingers. 

“I could go for a second helping.” 

The sentence barely leaves his mouth before you find yourself parting your thighs to welcome him back.

Through the course of three months, you find yourself being taught various lessons from Osamu. He teaches you to mind your manners and refuses to fuck into you, choosing to tease you with the head of his cock instead. 

“Not gonna fuck ya ‘til you say please.” 

Like with your tennis matches, it all boils down to a game of stamina. Who can hold out the longest? His tip is wet and sticky with pre, and you can catch every hitch of his breath as he rubs against your clit. You’re soaking through his bedsheets, his bed being the only comfortable piece of furniture he has in his “work in progress” of a bachelor pad. 

He practices breathing exercises with you when he pushes himself as far as your little throat can take him. Drool will be dribbling out the corners of your swollen lips, and he has your hair bunched up in a makeshift ponytail, strands sloppily wrapped around his hand as he watches you try to take all of him in your mouth. 

“You gotta breathe through your nose, baby. Atta girl, that’s my good girl.”

He teaches you that you like praise. 

He’s more observant than you realize. You can tell from the way he recaps and analyzes your matches with you after a particularly rough game, and you can tell from the way he’ll notice if the way he has you bent over the kitchen counter is uncomfortable for you. He knows you like the way he gives it to you hard, sloppy, messy. You have a meticulous training routine, every aspect of your life reduced to a bullet point on an itinerary from your personal coach. 

It makes sense that his sloppy kisses, the ones that leave your lips swollen, the ones that are less than kisses and more of just messy exchanges of spit, are your favorites. You like being reduced to a wet, boneless, fucked out little mess, and you like it because it’s all coming from him. He has a business to tend you, and you have a professional athletic career, and yet, the world is reduced to his barebones apartment bedroom. No tennis matches, no food truck deliveries to worry about.

Just your back pressed against his chest, the thin material of your athletic tanktop and his tight fitted compression shirt doing nothing to stop the searing exchange from both of your bodies’ heat. 

“Told ya I’d teach you a thing or two.”

All you can do is close your eyes and lose yourself to the overwhelming pleasure of having him buried to the hilt inside of you. 

“You’re so good for me, ya know that?” You like the way he grunts out the words, punctuating each word with a thrust that has you clinging to his forearm, both of his hands wrapped tightly around your stomach so you can stay still, stay easily accessible for him. “You’re not just my good girl, you’re my best girl.”

You let his words of praise soak you to the bone. You’re letting out desperate, high-pitched, needy whines, and there’s no more holding back on his end. He’s fucking into you with the stamina and strength that rivals some athletes. 

You finish first; you always do. You tried, once, to get him to cum before you, but once he caught on to your little scheme, he stretched your body, had your legs folded and sore as he fucked into you almost angrily, like getting him off before you have is something he takes personal offense to. 

He’s addicted to watching you cum. The way you can’t control your body, your tight, always stressed out body that only seems able to relax when he’s smothering you, his body heat getting lost and mixed up with yours. You fit so perfectly against him, under him, on top of him. When you cum, you tilt your head back, resting against his shoulder. Your eyes look dazed, almost like you’re unable to see straight, but he stares at you, smiling as he realizes that every time you cum, you can’t help but search for him. 

When he finishes inside of you, you think you’re close to cumming again. The rush of hot, thick heat flooding your now-sloppy insides has you whining so cutely, he almost wants to start fucking into you again. But he doesn’t. Instead, he lets you rest, gives you a minute to catch your breath. 

“I don’t normally do this, y’know.” He sounds a bit out of breath, and it fills you with deep satisfaction to know that you’re capable of having this effect on him. It’d be embarrassing to be beat in a contest of stamina when you’re the professional athlete here. 

“So you’ve said.” 

Osamu is busy with his business, and you’re busy with tennis. The two of you know that there’s not a lot of room for a relationship, but the two of you are also well aware of the fact that there’s something more to this than just good sex. It’s obvious in the way he holds you, and it’s obvious in the way you let him. He wants to cook you good food and to meet his mother, and you want him at all your games, to dedicate your victory speeches to him. 

“I wanna do this right.” And he’s so sincere when he says it that it makes your heart flutter, gives you the unfamiliar sensation of butterflies in your tummy. “I wanna take you out on dates and for you to meet my family.” 

“I’ve never been in a relationship.” You admit this to him, even though he already knows. “So, I wouldn’t know what’s the ‘right’ way to go about it, anyway.” You peer up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. “But you promised you’d teach me a thing or two.”

“Yeah?” The word comes out breathless, full of anticipating, wanting, hope.

“And I think I really don’t mind being taught every once in a while.”

[midnightbluebells03]

⋅˚₊‧ ✶ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Abby Anderson basketball drabble ⋅˚₊‧ ✶ ‧₊˚ ⋅

NSFW at the end - little bit of x reader - soccer Ellie - sketches of Abby

Just a lil writing to tide yall over while I finish up with college assignments and other bits

Abby has always been drawn to basketball but never got the chance to play. With her dad being concerned about her getting hurt as a kid. But when she hit her growth spurt in highschool she set her mind to it, determined to prove to him she can handle it.

The sport is perfect for her because it can be so calculated, she enjoys the mind games and the intense preparation that comes with being the captain.

She uses her large build to her advantage when setting a screen. Earning the nickname brick wall from the amount of times she's knocked someone over.

A medical student studying to be a doctor like a her dad. But not neuro, she wanted to be an ortho doctor.

She takes her life as a student athlete seriously, which means no smoking, no drugs and she rarley ever drank. Only on off seasons and only at the weekends.

Practice makes perfect which is why Abby makes sure to hit the gym every morning before class, while you're still peacefully asleep. She also runs her practices like it's her job, the team calls her sergeant as a joke sometimes.

Begs her coach to let you sit in on practice because she felt bad about leaving you so often. When he agrees you help run practice after awhile of sitting on the bleachers learning about the game, being dubbed "mini Anderson" because you ran a tight ship. Even tighter than Abby at times. You always make sure they have water during games aswell and coach will talk game plans with you on the sidelines after a few months.

Has a pregame ritual which consists of doing push ups while you help her run through the game plan for the hundreth time. Before you two started dated she would just repeat it to herself or write it down on a peice of paper.

Never lets you wear her jersey after a game, will insist on washing it first or giving you a clean one. Eventually she buys you a custom one with ANDERSON on the back so you can wear it to games. But you still steal hers constantly.

Let's you do her braid before games but will re do it in secret if it isn't tight enough because she never wants to hurt your feelings.

Will pick you up and spin you around if they win, pressing a million kisses to your face infront of everyone.

You bring her flowers after big games. The first time you were so anxious, standing by the locker room with the bouquet in hand. Abby looked like she was going to cry as she took them from your hand, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you in tight. "They're gorgeous baby, thank you".

Nsfw

She was scared to 'take her anger out' on you when she would lose games but you assured her you wanted to help. Knowing that Abby would never actually hurt you. So now on the rare occasion that she loses you know you're about to be bent over with your face in the pillow while her strap relentlessly pounds into you. Her grip tight in your hair as she praises you through your countless orgasms. "Good fucking girl, always taking me so well hmm?". You can't do anything but moan in response as she thrusts into you harder. "Think you like it when we lose baby, you like when you get fucked like a little slut don't you?"

[unholybacon355]

Kinktober Day 13 - Hirai Momo x M! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

Momo is hot as hell, there is no doubt about that. She always catches the eye with her spectacular body. Wherever she goes, always someone is turning her head to take a proper look at her. She’s hot and she knows it and embraces it. How could she not know it when is always receiving compliments?. She’s hot as fuck and you love it too.

There always was the discussion about if her big round ass or her large breast was her most desired body part. You always listened to people talking about that in the hallways or in the bathroom. Of course everybody wants to fuck Momo, she’s the it girl of the campus. And you want it too., but she’s out of your league. 

Yeah, she’s a gymnast and you are part of the football team, but she’s still so out of your league. This can’t be the classical sport romance because she’s very popular and no one pays attention to you. Yes you’re on the football team, but you aren’t really playing. You had been benched almost the entire season till today when the injuries of your teammates allowed you to finally jump to the field. 

You were really fine with that, at least touching the field was good for you. Damn you love this sport, but sadly you aren't that good at it. Otherwise you would be on the titular team. But sometimes people get lucky, maybe something moves in the universe to make a poor bastard like you happy once in a while just to keep things balanced. And you were the lucky one today when in the final minute of the game out of pure adrenaline rush you were able to sack the enemy quarterback on their own end zone, practically winning a tied game.

Immediately everybody was shouting your name and rising you to the sky. You were today's heroe. And that leads to where you are now. At the bedroom of someone that you don’t even know, with your pants around your knees and the girls of your dream half naked kneeling in front of you. 

This was one of the many parties to which you were dragged tonight. Of course everybody wants to have the hero at their party, and your captains were shure you that you attended every party around the campus that night. Till you ended up in this house, very drunk, and in some magic way crossing paths with Momo. She was kinda drunk too and for some reason was also very happy to meet the new college heroe. Maybe because beside her almost no one brings joy to this university in sports. Yes, she wasn't just hot but also a champion.

Then things are blurry in your memory. Maybe you were dragged into a drinking game, and maybe you also ended up doing that stupid “Seven minutes in heaven “ game with Momo, you are seriously too drunk to remember if that really happened. But if it happened probably that was what led to this. 

You were kissing Momo in the hallway on the second floor, and touching her in a very inappropriate way, when you kicked a random door and both entered the room, shutting the door behind you. Things quickly escalated but sadly you didn't have a single condom with you. Why would you have one if you aren't getting laid in the first place? So Momo decided to reward you with something special instead. That's why she was on her knees with her torso naked, and spitting on her tits to make them slippery.

At this very moment in your opinion the discussion about Momo’s tiddies versus her ass is finished. Her boobs were by far the biggest you had ever seen in person. They are like twoo fucking ships on the middle of the sea, moving at a discontinuous and not symmetric passe while Momo is spreading her saliva between them. One coming up when the other is coming down at the rhythm of her breath and hands. You were frankly amazed by the size of her breast. 

Momo bites her lower lips looking at you in a sexy but shy way. “I don’t do this with anyone.” And you knew that was true, there isn’t a single rumor about her sleeping with anyone or hooking up at parties. In fact you weren't sure if a sports strat like her was even attending these kinds of parties, and that made you feel even luckier. “But you seem to be nice.” That and also that both of you are very drunk right now. 

Momo wraps her fingers around your shaft stroking you and spreading her saliva over you too, that is until your dick is wet and shiny. You desperately need her to suck you, to feel her warm mouth around your meat, but instead your reward is another. Momo puts your shaft between her monumental tits and uses her hand to push them together. Her boobs are so big that your tip is barely visible over the crack of her cleavage. God, obviously her tits are better than her ass.  

And then the fun begins. Momo uses her hands to move her massive breasts up and down, sending you immediately to heaven. The feeling is amazing, your shaft is surrounded by the soften skiing ever had been. And her boobs are so soft that seem like you’re fucking cotton candy. You feel on the clouds.

“Does it feel good?” All you can elaborate as an answer is a moan because everything feels so amazing. To be honest you haven't had action in a while, so at this point everything should feel amazing. But you know this is different, you know that her tits are casting some kind of spell over you. Otherwise why is your shaft so hard right now? 

You’re praying for this to not be a dream. You're thanking the universe to allow you to make that play and end this night like this, with the girls of your dream stroking your dick with her tits. And Oh God! what a great job she’s doing. Momo’s hand never stops moving her boobs, maintaining your shaft sealed between them and maximizing your pleasure. All you can do is moan and look at her with a freshly discovered passion. 

Momo isn’t just hot as fuck but also so damn beautifull. Her delicate features  always capture your attention, and now seeing her with her mouth open spitting more saliva over her tits to maintain them lubricated,  feels like an extra reward to you. You don’t even want that blowjob anymore, that feels out of please now. It feels like an abuse of your luck to want something more from her, because this is already so amazing.

 Momo is panting with the effort of moving her tits up and down, and even like that she looks beautiful.  She is like an angel with big boobs, but still like an angel. Even with her tongue out to let her saliva drip over her tits she looks so damn beautiful in your eyes. Well, not for nothing she’s the most desired girl on the campus.

You let her do what she wants with your shaft, and obviously she has a lot of control over her body. After all she’s and gymnastic start, she clearly knows how to move her body and what to do with every single one of her muscles, and that includes her big boobs.The waves that her fat tits create over your dick, stimulating you to a new level of pleasure,  is more than you can mange. 

“I-I-I’m… Clo-Clooooseee.” You warn her but all what Momo does is increase the pace of her movement, and pushes her tits even closer together, sending you over the edge of your climax. Your dick spills thick ropes of semen over her breast, covering her entire chest with your white and sticky fluid. Flooding her big tits with your seed and making it even easier for her to milk you using your semen as lubricant too. You shoot your load over her massive boobs covering that beautifull mole on her left tiddie, and even drop your semen over her hard light tea big nipples.

“What a mess we made.” Momo said panting and giggling once she set free your shaft from the warm and soft embrace of her boobs. “Can you find me something to clean myself?” Add while trying to gather your semen with her hands but all what she is doing is just spreading it more over her chest. 

You are still amazed by what just happened. You can’t think straight like if you were in some kind of trance, and without realizing what you are doing you take off your shirt and you give it to her. After a few minutes her tits are clean and you put your shirt on again, now stained with your own milk. You’re still in a trance, still very drunk and in disbelief. 

You're thinking of asking for her number, maybe if you're lucky enough another kiss. But you also think this is already too much. In the end what would you pursue asking for her number? What more could obtain from her a drunk loser that is wearing a shirt stained with his fresh semen? But you still have to do it. If it isn't tonight when again would you have the chance to meet the most desired girl on the campus? Maybe the hotter and more desired girl in the entire city you correct yourself.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 1] Player Number Forty-Four

Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Baseball Player!Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Tittyfucking, Oral Sex (m. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Creampie

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sitting amongst thousands of baseball fanatics makes you realize one thing: You fucking hate this sport. You don’t get the point, you don’t know what’s happening half of the time. Maybe you’re just refusing to get the point because you didn’t want to come here in the first place. You were dragged here by a friend who got some last minute tickets– She claimed she got the best possible seats for a low price, and her date canceled on her. She didn’t want to come alone, and now you’re watching the game from what you assume is a great seat.

Too bad for you, you don’t understand much of what’s happening. You’re yawning in boredom because there’s not one interesting thing catching your attention. Baseball just isn’t the sport for you, you much rather would’ve liked sitting in the stadium for any other sport. Maybe soccer or tennis. 

You’re just watching Shoko sip on her beer, occasionally yelling but overall, her team seems to be doing well; you wouldn’t know if they weren’t doing well. She’s dressed just as you expected. She wears a jersey for the team that she’s supporting, the “Demon Dogs” (You found the name so fucking funny), and jeans.

“Shoko, when does the game end?” You ask, but she isn’t paying attention to you. Her eyes are staring at the pitcher that’s walking to the pitcher’s mound, and you watch her expression change. The back of her hand is slapping your collar bone, her eyes widening. Your eyebrows are furrowing as you look at her, extremely confused. “What the hell is up?”

“They’re bringing in Fushiguro.” Shoko informs you, but you have a big issue… You have no idea who Fushiguro is. You assume it’s the pitcher that spits onto the dirt as he walks to the pitcher’s mound that is outlined with a white circle. You blink slowly, getting her hand off you. You slightly shake your head, raising your eyebrows.

“I have no idea who he is.” You end up chuckling. It’s the man that’s about to pitch, you don’t know why she’s upset. The man that holds the baseball mitt is certainly a sight for sore eyes. At least from this distance. You just know that you nearly cry when his back is turned to you, leaving you to look at the number forty-four that’s on his jersey. 

“He’s their best pitcher. Maybe the best pitcher in the whole league.” Shoko answers. The little hope that the team that she’s rooting for would win, is now completely gone. Her arms are crossed and her lips are now pouty. “Probably were testing the waters with a new pitcher since Fushiguro can’t play forever… But that clearly didn’t work.”

“What was even happening?” You question, and she tries to explain how awful the first pitcher was: throwing bad pitches, which kept resulting in balls– You didn’t quite grasp the concept. You were too scared to ask anyway. You watch as the man turns his body forty-five degrees, raising his left leg before he throws the ball, and your eyes widen because that’s the fastest you’ve seen a ball travel. You hear Shoko huff, probably accepting that her team is going to lose. It happens two more times until the player is finally out, and another one walks up. “I’m no genius but you were right about Fushiguro.”

“I hate him.” Shoko rolls her eyes, causing you to laugh. You certainly don’t feel the same. You throw your arm over her and then lay your head on hers. 

“Why don’t you root for the better team? I think they’re selling their jerseys.” You joke, and she pushes you away. Before your conversation is over, Fushiguro has striked out another player.

“Why don’t you buy a jersey for that other team since you’re clearly rooting for them.” She says, and you’re nearly about to get up to do what she tells you. You feel awkward since you’re wearing a tank top and a push up bra, so you’ve definitely been getting stares. 

“I just might.” You answer. You almost miss the moment where the batter finally hits the fast ball, if you hadn’t paid attention, Shoko wouldn’t have gotten up to catch it and she would’ve gone home with a bump and bruise on her head– Or, the more likely outcome, someone else would’ve caught it. There’s a grin on her face as the batter runs from home, goes through all bases, and returns, without a sweat, back to the home base. 

She shows off the ball and hands it to you. You examine the ball before turning your attention to her. She looks smug before she tilts her head and asks, “Think you might change your mind?”

“Does your team have handsome players like Fushiguro?” You respond before you turn your attention back to the field. She taps your shoulder and then points at the player who just hit the homerun. He doesn’t look that bad, but you’re not too close so you can see him

“Don’t you think he looks good? He does have a girlfriend but–” She begins, and you roll your eyes. You block her out, watching the game at hand. You watch how Fushiguro does the same thing again, and even though you were expecting to see the ball move ridiculously fast, this time it seems like it curves. The batter hits it though, and it makes Shoko grip to her seat with a smile coming to her face. She shuts up about what she was talking about, but before the ball even hits the ground, it’s in Fushiguro’s hand. You almost laugh at how Shoko’s expression changes. She ends up sighing before saying, “Oh yeah, I was saying I wanted to fuck his girlfriend.”

“Who? Fushiguro’s?” You ask, making her click her tongue. She doesn’t bother reiterating, so you’re left clueless. You don’t care all that much either. You keep watching until Shoko’s team is on the pitching side and your Fushiguro’s team is on the batting side. You lose focus when you don’t see the man that you’re rooting for up there and batting. The man that’s pitching is the same man that Shoko was talking to you about earlier. What makes him stand out is his head of white hair. “How long is this game?”

“Why are you in a rush to leave?” Shoko sounds offended as she asks the question. You can’t even believe it because you thought you had made it obvious how you weren’t into the game at all. She doesn’t seem to pick up the cues though.

“I want him to sign the ball.” You keep it brief, and you assume that she immediately knows who it is. The same man that you’ve been talking about the past couple minutes. It amazes you how Shoko can sometimes… Completely miss the point.

“Who? Gojo?” She replies, and you exhale, holding back your laughter. You don’t even have an idea who Gojo is, but you assume it’s the pitcher, the one who hit the homerun. You shake your head.

“Fushiguro.” You answer, and she rolls her eyes.

“He didn’t even hit that ball.” She reminds you, but you so clearly don’t care. Before you can defend yourself she points to the field and informs you, “Speak of the devil, he’s coming up to bat.”

That’s what makes your eyes go to the field again, and then to the big screen that displays the field and allows you to look at the game better. Fushiguro’s brows are furrowed, his lips downturned as his eyes focus on the pitcher. You don’t care about his stance– Or maybe you do when you notice how big and muscular his arms are. Maybe you understand why people become fanatics of this boring sport because if you were to see a man like Fushiguro in every game, you’d devote yourself to the sport. 

Fushiguro gets a strike, and you almost groan disappointedly. You’re not into the game enough to actually express any sort of disappointment though. If he loses, he loses. He won’t stop being hot. But the second time around, Fushiguro hits the ball and almost knocks it out of the field. It makes you turn to Shoko and ask, “Do you know what his type is?”

“Why would I keep up with that loser?” Shoko responds, and sometimes she makes it so painfully clear that she’s into women. You try to keep up with the rest of the inning, but it’s hard when all the attention isn’t on Fushiguro. You attempt to speak with Shoko but she’s focused on the game, probably praying that a miracle will happen for her team. You have a couple comments about Fushiguro but it’s best if you don’t share. They’re too vulgar to share right now. 

You don’t even notice a break begin, until Shoko begins to talk more, focusing her attention on you. “I heard he’s a deadbeat. Some shit like that. He has a twelve year old son and according to the mom–”

“I don’t want a relationship with him, I just want to fuck him.” You cut her off. You really don’t want her to ruin your source of entertainment tonight. Once you know that Fushiguro is a horrible person, you won’t find him as hot while he plays. You feel ashamed for admitting that out loud so you try to correct yourself, even when Shoko knows what you mean. “I mean… I just don’t need to know all that about him.”

“Of course you– Oh my god, you’re on the kiss cam.” Shoko points out, and you look at the big screen to find yourself there, with the guy that sits next to you. He’s awkward, unsure of how to approach the situation. He looks like he wants to kiss you… But you don’t want to kiss him. Maybe it makes you shallow but you’re not kissing a random stranger because he has a great personality. He just isn’t your type. 

“Save me Shoko…” You mutter, and she laughs before her hands cup your face and she pulls your head in. Her lips meet yours, and just as her tongue swipes over your bottom lip, she pulls away with a smile on her face. You end up chuckling, before thanking her.

You keep your eye on the field, watching player number forty-four closely. Fushiguro is the real star in all of this. He apparently seems to be doing well in his field, but you consider him the star simply because he looks so damn good. You keep your eye on him until the game ends. 

Shoko is clearly mad at the fact that her team lost, and as the great friend that you are, you begin to comfort her until you remember your great idea. This is the only opportunity to do it, after all, you doubt that after this you’ll find Fushiguro again. This isn’t their home town, and you’re not putting yourself through the torture of sitting through another baseball game in the upcoming season just to get his signature… or well, to get him to notice you. You can comfort Shoko some other time, either way, she’s a sore loser so nothing you do will bring her spirits up.

You still have the ball in hand, and you get up from your seat and run down– Admittedly pushing some people out of the way, until the railing stops you so you can’t go further. Fushiguro is walking to the dugout, baseball mitt under his armpit, wiping the sweat on his chin with his shirt. He won’t notice you if you just stand there, especially since people are walking behind you. You yell his name as loud as you can, and it causes his eyes to dart your way. You show off the ball that’s in your hand and he walks over to you. 

“Do you have a marker?” He asks, and you feel your face get warm as your brain processes the question. Of course not, you weren’t planning on getting anything signed. You bite down on your lips before you shake your head. He ends up chuckling before he yells, “Kong! Get me a marker!”

“You were really good out there.” You comment, slightly tilting your head, giving him a sweet smile. Fushiguro knows that look in your eyes– Well, he thought he did because he’s pretty sure you’re into chicks. He saw you kiss that girlfriend of yours or whatever… He can still do some harmless flirting. He smirks at you, and he’s so focused on you that he nearly misses the marker that’s being thrown at him. He opens the black marker and takes the ball from your hand.

“Really? Did you enjoy the game, pretty girl?” He licks his lips, his eyes focused on signing the ball that he has in his hand. His gaze shifts though, from the ball to your cleavage. He tries to disguise it, but it’s clear what he’s doing. You hum in response, trying your best to keep an alluring smile on your face. 

“I loved watching you play.” You respond because you really don’t know what else to say. Should you ask him out? Would he reject you? He keeps looking at your cleavage so maybe he’d accept, but that also doesn’t mean anything. He probably gets asked out a lot, so it’s best if he makes the first move so you know if he’s really interested.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” He hands you the ball, and you’re hesitant before you take it. You have to say something before he leaves but you don’t know what; something that’ll really stick in his mind. You take the ball, and you’re biting your tongue, you have an idea but it isn’t prudent. You bat your eyelashes before you ask him,

“Will you sign something else?” He raises his brow until he realizes what you’re talking about. You’re pretty much shaking them right in his face… Will your girlfriend get mad or something? His eyes are on your boobs and he’s tempted. His eyes search for your girlfriend in the sea of people, and when he doesn’t see her, he shrugs.

“You sure you want me to sign your tits? It doesn’t come off easily.” He warns you.

“Do it.” You nod your head, and with that assurance, you feel the marker on your cleavage as he signs his name across your breasts. He doesn’t keep it small, he wants to make it as big as he can. He smiles when he sees the work of art, his name on your chest. You bite down on your lip before saying, “Thank you, Fushiguro.”

“Please, call me Toji.” Toji says, a smug smile on his face as he puts the cap back on the marker. Is he immoral enough to ask a woman that seems to be in a relationship out? Oh, he is. He definitely is. “Will you–”

You know what’s about to leave his lips. He’s going to ask for your number. But he knows that he just wants to fuck and for some reason his conscience is telling him not to ruin a perfect relationship just for an hour or two. Since when did he become a good human being? You’re clearly throwing yourself at him, for fuck’s sake, he just signed your boobs. 

You tilt your head, “Will I what?”

“Will you tell your girlfriend to root for the better team?” He ends up saying, and the word doesn’t fully process in your head. Before you can get a word in, he’s walking back to the dugout and it hits you. Does he mean girlfriend as in your romantic partner or your friend? 

“I’m convinced that he would’ve asked me out if I hadn’t kissed Shoko.” You tell your friends, who aren’t all that interested in what you have to say. Shoko invited you out to a bar along with another mutual friend, and the date that canceled on her. The woman probably feels awkward as you keep babbling on how you kissed Shoko. Admittedly, you’re not attracted to each but it’s still awkward to hear about how your date kissed someone else.

“He’s not all that great anyway. Maybe you could try to hook up with Gojo so I can–” Shoko begins and when her eyes land on her date, she shuts her mouth. She chugs half of her drink, wiping her mouth when the glass hits the table again. “Move on, drink something and–”

“And?” You ask when Shoko stops in the middle of her sentence. She’s glaring at the entrance of the place, and it makes you turn. She’s gripping her bottle, asking what the hell they’re here. You realize that this is your chance.

A couple days after you last saw Toji, he walks inside the bar with three other friends… Or teammates, you’re not sure which word describes their relationship better. You smile at your friends before saying, “Maybe the universe has other plans for me.”

“You’re not going there.” Shoko sounds clearly annoyed. She can’t believe how you’re a traitor. You want to flirt with Fushiguro even though she’s a fan of the opposing team? You’re not much of a friend. “He’s a whore. If you sleep with him, he’ll give you a disease.”

“There’s always treatments.” You’re saying under your breath as you stand up. You smooth out your skirt before walking toward the man who wears a navy blue sweater and jeans. You won’t lie, you like the baseball uniform better but he still manages to look so good in his outfit. You’re not exactly sure how to approach him, so you tap his shoulder, causing him to turn around to find you with a sweet smile on your glossy lips. He smiles back at you.

“Nice to see you here, pretty girl.” Toji’s words make you feel as if you’ve known him for an eternity. It makes your face warm. The people who he came with are also looking at you. “She’s the girl I was telling you guys about.”

“The lesbian?” A short woman with long dark hair speaks up, asking the same question that everyone in the group has. When Toji nods, you chuckle. They end up walking away, the short woman intertwining her fingers with the blond man’s that accompanies them. You recall seeing him, he’s a catcher in Toji’s team. They’re gone before you can correct them.

“I’m not a lesbian.” You tell Toji, and he raises his brows as a smirk comes to his lips. He throws his arm over your shoulder and instead of going to the booth that his friends are at, he heads to an empty booth. You take a seat across from each other, and you ask him, “Care for a drink?”

“As long as you’re buying.” Toji jokes, and you end up laughing. He clears his throat before saying, “I’m going to get a glass of water, do you care for anything?”

“I’m good, thank you.” You respond, and you watch him walk to the bar to get himself a drink. You wonder why he’s sticking with water, but it’s not that hard to decipher that he’s probably the designated driver for the night. The more you think about it, the more special you feel. He came here to spend time with his friends, yet he sat down with you. 

It’s clear he wants a hookup, and he didn’t do anything at the stadium because he thought you were a lesbian; you find it ridiculous though, considering he signed your tits. He sits back down and you smile at him. He takes a sip of the water before he asks the inevitable, “Was that your girlfriend? The woman you kissed?”

“We’re just friends. Friends kiss sometimes.” You answer, and he purses his lips, wondering if that’s true for girls. Certainly not true for him and his friends. While he stays quiet, you add, “Kiss cam landed on me, there was an ugly guy next to me so I asked Shoko to help.”

Toji would judge, but he gets it. He wouldn’t kiss an ugly girl even if she had a great personality– He doesn’t know when he became so shallow, he wasn’t always like this. But that doesn’t matter anyway since the woman that sits across from him is anything but ugly. 

“Nice to know you’re into men. Only reason I didn’t steal you after the game was because I thought that was your girlfriend back there.” He shares, and you end up laughing. You could gather that by the way he reacted when he saw you, but it’s nice to hear him actually say it. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

You introduce yourself to him. He makes sure to compliment your name, a comment that’s insignificant so you don’t pay much attention to it. You still mutter a thank you. He then asks a question that leaves you confused, “So what do I have to do so you become a mako shark fan?”

“A what?” You almost burst out laughing when you hear that. When did baseball team names become so ridiculous? You’re laughing as you respond, “Is that the name of your team?”

“Yeah…” He awkwardly responds, trying to laugh it off. He scratches the back of his neck, and he swears it’s the first time that he feels embarrassed about the team that brings him so much money each year. “I take it you’re not a fan of the team.”

“Nor the sport. My friend was the one that dragged me.” You share. It makes Toji feel better, less insignificant. You bite down on your bottom lip before you blink a couple times and you ask him, “Maybe you could… Explain the game to me, maybe it’ll get me interested.”

“I know that trick, in the end you won’t care and I’ll waste my words.” He replies, and you find yourself laughing more. You end up nodding, agreeing in response. You just want him to engage in a conversation, and the only subject that crossed your mind was baseball. “Tell me about… Did you grow up here?”

“I’ve lived here for the past ten years so… Yes but no.” You wonder why he’s keeping up the conversation. Shoko acts as if he’s the biggest whore in the world but he’s trying to engage in a conversation with you when it’s clear that you want to go back to his hotel. “How about you… Did you grow up in whatever city–”

“Yeah.” He answers. His eyes glance at his friends for a moment, they don’t seem to be having too much fun, so he’s glad he’s with you. He ends up rolling his eyes before he comments, “I have to drive those idiots home later.”

“Did you offer to be the designated driver or did they give the role to you?” 

“I don’t really drink so… They just brought me along. Kind of rude though, I had other plans.” He responds, yet he smirks when he looks at you. “I’m glad I’m here though… What do you do anyway?”

“Real estate agent, nothing too fun.” You reply. “Just trying to convince people into buying houses and whatnot.”

“Is that your dream job?” He questions, and your eyes widen a bit. Your eyebrows then come together, your lips pursing as you try to think about the question. You don’t really have a dream job, and you’ve never really thought about it. Other than,

“I don’t know. Maybe a housewife.” You end up shrugging. “How about you? Is being a baseball player your dream job?”

“Yeah… I guess. Never really thought about it.” And before you can dwell on the subject, he clears his throat and asks, “Anyway, I assume you know your way around the city. Would you care to be my tour guide tomorrow?”

“You’re lucky I have the day off.” 

“Is that a yes?” Toji asks, and you hum in response. Around this moment he’d suggest going back to the hotel, but he has to stick around for his teammates. Luckily enough, he can see you again tomorrow. God, he just wishes he could ditch them. “So… Let’s say I wanted to buy a house around here.”

“Ew, why would you?” You end up laughing, and he laughs along with you. You reach into your purse to grab a business card. You slide it to him, and he inspects it when it’s in his hands. “That’s my work phone, but if you have a pen I can write my cell number.”

“Don’t you have a pen in your purse?” He responds, and you click your tongue.

“I wouldn’t ask you if I had one, would I?” You tell him, and his cheeks turn slightly pink. Of course you don’t, why would you ask for a pen if you had one. He excuses himself for a moment and stands up from his chair, running to the booth that his teammates are in. The same man that tossed him a marker in the game, is not handing him a pen. For that moment you feel special, although it isn’t much effort to stand up and ask for a pen but some people wouldn’t even try. You can also just put your number in his phone, but the idea doesn’t cross your mind until he’s back with the pen.

“What’s your number?” He asks, more than ready to write it down on the card. 

“I can also put it in your phone…”  You suggest, and he ends up laughing as he pulls out his phone. You’re dumbfounded when you see his old phone– You weren’t sure if they still made phones that flipped, but he’s proved you wrong. “Do they not pay you enough?”

“You won’t believe it. I tried to buy a third house but they weren’t paying me enough.” He shakes his head disappointedly, flipping the phone open, opening the phone app and then handing it to you. You take it and type in your number. “I don’t see the point in getting a new phone. I just need to call a couple people and that’s it.”

“Do you know what a computer is?” You respond as you give him back the phone. He ends up shaking his head, obviously joking. “How old are you anyway? I hope that’s not rude.”

“Twenty– Thirty-something years old. Near my forties.” He answers, not wanting to give specifics to not scare you off; of course, you can just look it up. “I know it’s rude to ask a lady her age but how old are you? It’s only fair for me to ask.”

“Not telling you.” You say, and he cocks his eyebrow. A laugh escapes his lips before he jokes,

“What? Are you a granny that manages to look young?” He jokes, and you nod in response, a smile on your lips. You haven’t talked much but you feel like you’re clicking with him. There’s a foolish smile on your face, a laugh leaving your lips every time he makes a dumb joke. 

“So um… I can’t really give you what you’re looking for tonight.” He brings up after ten minutes of chatter. You slightly tilt your head.

“And what exactly am I looking for?” You question, and you swear there’s a sparkle in his eyes. This isn’t the first time this has happened to him, but he enjoys your presence. He likes the way you put your hand over your chest and you dramatically gasp before you tell him, “Are you suggesting I want to–”

“We both know you want to.” He cuts you off, and he isn’t exactly wrong. The only reason you approached him was to hook up with him– You’ll admit that you enjoy the conversation. “Do you want to join my friends?”

“Well… I’m enjoying this time alone with you, but if you want to join them.” You answer. He glances at them for a moment before looking back at you. He lightly shakes his head,

“Maybe some other time. Tell me more about you.”

Nothing ends up happening that night, but it’s fine because you agreed to meet up the next day. He tells you the hotel that he’s staying at, and you plan on meeting at the coffee shop that’s across the hotel. You aren’t an early riser nor do you like to be extremely early to places, but you find yourself with a coffee and a pastry almost an hour before the time that you agreed to meet up.

You’re scrolling through your phone, and you almost miss the man that walks into the coffee shop, extremely early just like you. Your eyes meet, and a smile comes to your face. If you believed in love at first sight, you’d say that’s what this is. But you aren’t in love with Toji, you just find him handsome– And you feel like you can spend hours talking to him.

“Toji.” You say. He walks over toward you, his hands in his pockets. When you’re in front of him, his eyes go straight to your chest since your dress is showing your cleavage.

“Didn’t really notice that my name isn’t on them.” He awkwardly chuckles, and it embarasses you. If you knew that you’d be here so early in the day to meet up with him, you wouldn’t have asked him to sign your breasts; on the other hand, you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your boldness. You try your best to act confident, putting on your best smile.

“You can always sign them again if you want.” It’s meant to be a joke, and he laughs, but he’s about to ask the barista to borrow the marker. You clear your throat before saying, “Anyway, you should get your coffee so we can start.”

“Yeah.” He responds before he walks to the line. You walk back to your seat, and you finish your drink and coffee before he’s ready to go. He only gets a coffee, and he gloats about how, “I got it for free. Barista knew who I was.”

“You’re so lucky. The rich get richer and poor people like me still have to pay for their coffee.” You point out lightheartedly. He chuckles as you stand up. You walk out of the coffee shop together, and you begin to walk to your first stop: the aquarium.

You’re tired since the previous night you stayed up looking up places to take him. You’re not too sure about the downtown area, you’ve only been here a couple of times. You’re determined to give him a good time so maybe when he comes back to the city, he’ll think of you. 

“So where are we going?” Toji asks, following your lead. You decide to stay quiet as you continue walking. He won’t really push it, trusting your judgment. He sips on his coffee before asking, “So… Have you gotten married before?”

“No. I assume you have.” You respond, and he raises his brow. You’re not really paying to his facial expressions, so you completely miss it.

“So um… Are you trying to call me old?” He sounds offended. You bite down on your lip as you hold back a laugh. You end up humming in response– And as you do so you remember Shoko’s words. She called him a deadbeat, something along those lines. And you shouldn’t care, you try to not let it bother you. After today you doubt you’ll ever see him again. “I have been married before. Twice.”

“Don’t want to ruin the mood by talking further about it.” You tell him, not wanting to hear something that’ll possibly scare you away. Not before you have sex with him at the very least. Having sex with a celebrity is on your bucket list and you want to check that off; although you aren’t too sure if he’s considered a celebrity. You’ve never heard of him before, but you don’t keep up with sports and additionally people recognize him. 

“The aquarium.” Toji doesn’t look all that surprised. He still follows, and when you’re about to pay for two tickets, he pulls out his wallet and slams his card on the counter before you can do it. He definitely makes more money than you, he will offer to pay. Especially since he wants to get into your pants. When you’re inside, you smirk,

“Maybe we’ll see a mako shark.” He ends up rolling his eyes before he laughs. His hand goes to the small of your back as you begin to walk around. He isn’t all that interested in the fishes and sea creatures but it seems like you like to look around. You’re interested in the stupid variety of fishes.

Maybe he’s entertained when he stares at the sharks. His lips are pursed together, his hands in his pockets as his eyes follow the sharks. You’re walking around, looking at all the sea life around you until you’re back next to him. You poke his arm and you keep your finger pressed on his skin as you realize just how strong he is. His eyes finally fall on you. He doesn’t know what to say. Toji feels weird… He’s known you for a day or even less, and he thinks he likes you. 

It certainly isn’t love, he knows what love is. But he enjoys spending time with you, and he knows that he’ll like to have you by his side as he grows old. He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed as much as he did last night. He’s just trying to get into your pants. 

Toji has a cold demeanor that a person really has to work through to get him to be nicer. He doesn’t know why he didn’t put that up with you. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t like making pretty girls work for his attention.

“So did you find your team in the water?” You joke, and it’s so fucking dumb that he laughs along. He shakes his head. He throws his arm over your shoulder and begins to walk elsewhere because the sharks have gotten boring. He hears someone call his name, and he turns to find a random kid. He excuses himself, and you watch as he takes a photo with the young fan.

The young fan is grinning and telling Toji just about anything he can think of, and your heart softens just watching Toji pay attention to the young kid. It reminds you of Shoko’s words though, and this question rises in your mind. Toji looks so sweet with the kid. When Toji finally gets to your side you ask the question that bugs your mind,

“Do you have kids?” It catches him off guard. It’s nice to know that you haven’t looked him up though. A weak smile appears on his face before he nods in response.

“I have a twelve-year-old son.” His arm is over your shoulder again, and you’re walking elsewhere. You follow his lead, just staring at his face as you wait for him to elaborate. It doesn’t seem like he will until he clears his throat and adds, “His mom has full custody.”

“Okay.” Your lips form into a thin line as you nod. You know you can’t really ask more, you’ll definitely be crossing a line that you don’t want to cross. You’re walking to a darker area, and he comes to a stop which makes you stop as well. “I hope you’re having fun.”

“I am.” He answers, and you look up at him, meeting his eyes. You have no idea why but you feel as if you’ve known him for an eternity. It’s weird considering you just met, for all you know, he means danger. He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you feel your face get warm. You stare at each other for a moment until Toji notices the jellyfish behind you, and he points at them. “That looks… Pretty.”

“It is.” You blink slowly as you take in the pretty sight. You look back at each other at the same time. He scratches the back of his neck.

“So does this count as a first date?” He asks, and you giggle.

“Yeah, I think so.” You respond. “As long as I get into your pants.”

“I don’t fuck on the first date.” He says, and he covers his mouth, his eyes widening when he notices a child walking by. He looks at the parents, “I did not mean to say that.”

“You need to watch what you say. There’s children around.” You tell him, and he scoffs.

“Fuck you.” And you pout your lips before dramatically turning. 

“I guess since you don’t do the hanky panky after the first date, this date is over.” You do so more to see his reaction. You’re actually enjoying your date with him so you don’t care if you have sex or not. Your arms are crossed and your head slowly turns to see his reaction. You watch as Toji’s hands are on his knees, and he’s wiping away a tear. He silently laughs, and just watching him makes you chuckle as well. 

When he calms down, he cups your face. “The hanky panky? Really?”

“Whatever you want to call it. You know what I mean.” You try your best to keep a serious face. It’s hard to. Especially when his words sound so funny even though they aren’t supposed to be. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Toji. See you on the second date.”

“You know I was joking.” He tells you, his face inching closer to yours. He isn’t going to throw in the detail that he’s leaving tomorrow and he probably won’t see you again. You’re leaning in for a kiss, and he comes to a complete stop. He’s never seeing you again after this– Maybe in a year or so but so much can happen in a year. When you realize that he’s stopped, you ask,

“Why did you–” You begin and before you finish your sentence, his lips land on yours. It’s a short but sweet kiss; you swear you hear fireworks when you feel his soft lips on yours, and you dismiss it because it’s over as fast as the kiss is. 

“Is the date really over?” He asks as you gather your thoughts. 

“No. It’s far from over.”

You get some lunch after and while the food was awful, you had a great time with him. You kept talking for hours until you realized the sun was setting, and that’s when you realized that you kept talking for hours. Toji offered to go back to his hotel to watch a movie since neither of you knew what else to do. You agreed, knowing that you aren’t going to watch a movie.

“So what movie do you want to–” Toji begins as you step into his hotel room, yet before he gets to finish the sentence, his hands are lifting up your dress. He’s been thinking about this all fucking– For days, he’s been thinking about fucking you ever since he signed your tits. He throws your dress elsewhere when his lips land on yours. 

His tongue enters your mouth and presses against yours while his hands roam your body. He’s kissing you like he’s been waiting for this for centuries. There’s so much passion in his kiss, and your legs begin to grow weaker and weaker. You swore you had no chance when he walked away after the game, and god, you’re so fucking glad that you were wrong.

Toji’s hand unhooks your bra, and he slides it off before throwing it elsewhere, just like the dress. Toji pulls away from the kiss, and kisses down your neck. His lips feel so hot on your skin, and you’re burning up.

When he gets to your breast, he licks across the area where he signed. His thumb and index finger begin to pinch your nipple while his tongue circles your other nipple. His tongue flicks your nipple before his mouth wraps around it and he begins to suck.

“I liked them better with my name on them.” Toji says when he unlatches. He kisses your breasts until he gets to your other nipple, and he latches again. A breathy moan leaves your lips as he plays with your sensitive nipples. 

“You can write your name on them again.” You tell him. His lips go to yours again and he kisses you multiple times, his hands cupping your breasts. His lips then go to your ear and he whispers,

“Let me fuck your tits, baby.” His teeth nibble on your earlobe, your hand going to the buckle of his belt and undoing it. You grow more and more desperate by the moment. You’ll let him do just about anything that he wants to do. You unbutton and pull down his pants. He completely takes them off and your hand palms his cock. God, he grows more and more impatient with each passing second. He needs some relief.

You grab his hand and you lead him to the bed before you push him down. You pull down his boxers, allowing his cock to be free, before you get on your knees. Your hand wraps around his length, and you bring your lips together to spit on it a couple times before you put his shaft in the middle of your chest. You squeeze your tits together and he bites his bottom lip, holding back a moan. You begin to move your breasts and he watches you, taking everything in him to not loudly moan into the air. He’s been waiting for this for what feels like forever.

This is better than what he imagined. How pathetic would it be for him to come fast? He hates that you’ve taken over his thoughts, even though he hasn’t even known you for a week. You’re just so fucking pretty. 

“Fuck– I love your fucking tits.” He finally moans. Your head leans down and you’re licking the tip of his cock, and maybe he should’ve abandoned his drunk friends to fuck you last night; it definitely would’ve been much better than dragging too many drunk people back into a hotel room, keeping them from yelling into the streets and embarrassing themselves. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re still here, fucking his cock with your boobs. “It’s so good.”

Your boobs keep moving up and down your boobs until his dick finally twitches, his cum making a mess. Some of it lands on your tongue, most of it on your chest. You make sure to swallow the cum that’s on your tongue, while his finger goes to your chest, gathering some of his cum before he traces his signature on your chest again.

“There we go.” He smirks as you get up from the floor. When his finger gathers his cum from your chest again, he brings it up to your lips and when you open your mouth, he shoves his fingers in. You gag on his fingers, and it sounds like music to his ears. 

He takes his fingers out, your saliva coating his digits. You get up from the floor and force him to lay down on the bed. You get on top of him, knees on either side of him. Your hands go to the hem of his shirt and you begin to pull it up. He helps you get his shirt off, and you swear there’s a god in your bed. Fuck he looks good.

“You wanna ride me?” Toji asks as his fingers begin to play with your clothed cunt. You bite down your lip as you hold back a pathetic moan in your throat.

“Whatever you want.” You answer. You sound so fucking pathetic and Toji loves it. He’s loving everything about this. 

“I just need you wrapped around me.” He answers as he pushes your panties to the side. You lean down, your mouth kissing his. Toji takes the opportunity to run his cock through your folds before he pushes himself inside of you. He lets you adjust to every inch of his cock.

Your hands go to his chest for support as you begin to move on his cock. Toji swears he’s in heaven when he feels you wrapped around his cock. Your pussy just feels so fucking good. This feeling is euphoric, and he swears he’ll forever remember this because god– He’s fucking moaning. He’s moaning so fucking loud too but you’re drowning it out.

“You feel so fucking good.” He can’t help but moan. His hands travel from your back to grip your ass. You’re moving back and forth on his cock, hitting that right spot that makes you feel so fucking good. He loves looking at your face, filled with pleasure that his cock gives him. He just wants to snap a picture so he can look at it.

Your movements were already slow in the beginning, they get even slower since you tire out quickly. It’s unfair that you’re doing all the work while Toji, who is an athlete that definitely has more stamina, does nothing. Toji teases you, “Tired? Already?”

“Please move, Toji.” You’re sticking out your bottom lip. He chuckles before he begins to do the work for you. You curse over and over again since his thrusts are rapid at least compared to the speed that you had set.

Your hand goes down to play with your clit. Your pussy begins to tighten around him, and he has to bite down his lip to not let out an animalistic noise. You throw your head back, arching your back as you shut your eyes, “Fuck– Love your cock.”

It’s all too much for you to handle. You stop playing with yourself when you’re near the edge. 

“You’re so tight.” He says through gritted teeth. You shut your eyes, and you keep moaning his name over and over again. You have no consideration for his teammates who are on the same floor as him. You don’t care if they hear or don’t hear. 

“Oh, Toji!” You loudly moan when you reach your high. He loses control, god, this is just better than everything. He’s never had something so good before. His hands go to your hips and his nails dig into the flesh.

“Need to come inside you.” He says, and you don’t care to push him away. You’re on birth control, you just need to feel his cum inside of you. So fucking bad. You’ll let him do just about anything that he wants to do with you. He’s got you in a trance ever since you met him.

“Do it, please please please.” You chant. His movements get sloppy until he finally fills you up with his cum. He keeps his cock buried inside of you until every drop of his seed is inside of you. When he pulls out, your lips repeatedly kiss his over and over again.

Your head then falls on his chest. He wraps his arms around you, and you smile as you feel his hand run up and down your back. You’re breathing in his scent, and you swear you’ve never felt so comfortable in someone else’s arms like how you feel right now.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” He speaks up, and you lift your head to look at him. 

“Are you sad about it?” You ask him, and you watch him shrug. Your finger pokes his muscular chest before you tease him, “You’re sad because you’re leaving? We haven’t known each other for so long.”

“I know… And I’m not sad. Why would I be?” He responds. Your head lays back down on his chest and you’re listening to his heartbeat. “You’ve just made me feel so good. I’ve never laughed so hard, and I haven’t felt this good in ages. And I don’t feel like I can let that go. I really really like you.”

“We can always reconnect. You can fly back here.” You remind him, but he seems to have a very different idea. Very different. It makes you sit up and look at him wide eyed when he suggests,

“Let’s get married.”

[jpnriikicore]

── covering speed

paring f1driver!jungwon x journalist!reader, word count 656, gene fluff, ( masterlist )

the sun beaming down on the bustling paddock at the spanish grand prix. your a intern sky sports journalist that found yourself immersed in the electric atmosphere. excitement pulsed through your veins at the mere sound of engines roaring.

before you knew it you were standing in a sea of cameramen, waiting for the drivers to make their way. a feeling of intimidation went down your spine when your eyes locked with yang jungwon’s, the promising rookie ferrari driver. the latest sensation from south korea making a buzz in the f1 world. the piercing look from across the room as he made his way towards you.

your gaze went down towards your shoes that shuffled in your spot where you stood. you take the short moment to gather your barrings and racing mind. your teeth gnawed at your bottom lip.

once he finally stood in front of you, you finally got the courage to raise your head to make eye contact with him once again. his cat-like eyes studied your features, soaking up every detail that he could at that moment noticing a few things he didn’t last race weekend.

clad in his racing suit exuding a quiet confidence. you observed his poised demeanor and the sparkle in his eyes.

"it’s nice to see you again," he spoke first breaking the silence between the two of you. he beamed a smile at you. his dimples showing off briefly.

you ignore the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach at the sight. he smelted like the champagne that had been poured on the top of his head whilst on the podium. your cheeks turned slightly red as your teeth bit on your bottom lip in an attempt to conceal a smile.

"you too."

"you look great." he complimented, his eyes slowly scanning the clad ferrari red dress on your body.

"thank you." a smile graced your features as your cheeks reddened as red as rubies, but if anyone asked you would blame it on the warm weather.

"i’m sure you and your team are very proud of your incredible performance today getting p1." he listened intently nodding his head along to every word you spoke. he hummed before putting the tube in his water bottle and taking a sip to hydrate. it was unprofessional you were aware, but your gaze briefly glanced at his lips. he concealed a smirk as he took notice.

"we worked very hard recently. we made some adjustments to the car and spoke about new strategies. the free practices went well including qualifying. the car did very well at preforming today."

"any big plans for celebration after this win?"

"taking you out to dinner." your taken aback by his response. your eyes widening at his bluntness, especially on camera, but you’d be stupid to decline a date with him. you shook your head out of disbelief a smile graced your lips.

"you can’t expect every woman to fall for your games just because you're famous." you teased in a attempt to lighten the tension.

"i don’t want every woman." he seemed very serious about the situation. your breath hitched in your windpipe. you take a second to gather your thoughts back to your professionalism and clear your throat. a smile graced your lips again.

"it was lovely speaking with you jungwon. congrats on such a good race and i wish you the best in austria."

"will you be interviewing me next week?" jungwon asked, with no intention of walking away from this conversation quite yet. his head tilted to the side a little with his brown eyes staring into yours.

"um, most likely."

"i look forward to speaking with you again, y/n." he gave you a wink as a farewell leaving you as a fumbled mess in the media pen. before you could bring yourself to leave the paddock you invited yourself to his driver's room to accept the dinner date offer.

© JPNRIIKICORE, 2024

[brainddeadd]

The Interview

warnings: sexism

Jack Hughes x fem!reader, Nico Hischier x fem!reader, Luke Hughes x fem!reader, Trevor Zegras x fem!reader, Matt Rempe x fem!reader, Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

The bright lights of the interview room felt almost blinding as Y/N sat between Jack Hughes and Nico Hischier, with Luke Hughes beside them. They were fresh off a big win, and the excitement in the air was palpable. Jack was animated, cracking jokes and making faces to keep Y/N laughing, but the moment the interviewer walked in, the tone shifted.

“Alright, everyone,” the interviewer said with a confident smile. “Let’s talk to the young star here. Y/N, how does it feel to be the youngest player on a team full of experienced guys? Must be tough keeping up, huh?”

Y/N forced a smile, her heart racing. “I just focus on my game and work hard like everyone else.”

The interviewer smirked, leaning forward as if he had a juicy tidbit to uncover. “Sure, but let’s be honest. Do you think you’d be here without some... connections? There are rumors you might have, well, charmed your way onto the team.”

The air in the room thickened. Jack’s expression darkened immediately, and Nico's jaw clenched. Luke’s protective instincts flared as he shot a glance at Y/N, who remained composed. “I’ve earned my spot through hard work and dedication,” she said firmly, though she felt the sting of the insinuation.

The interviewer continued, undeterred. “Come on, it’s a competitive sport. Some might say a pretty face can go a long way in the locker room.”

Jack’s eyes flared with anger. “That’s not how it works. Y/N is here because she deserves to be, not because of anything else,” he snapped, his voice rising.

“Yeah, let’s keep it professional,” Nico added, glaring at the interviewer. “Y/N has shown more talent and determination than many on this team.”

But the interviewer only laughed dismissively. “Right, right. But it’s an interesting angle, don’t you think? I’m just trying to get the real story.”

The tension hung heavy as Y/N forced herself to smile, even as her heart sank. “I’m just grateful to be part of the team,” she said, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions within her.

The interview wrapped up, and Y/N felt the weight of their protectiveness beside her. Yet, as soon as she stepped away, the façade began to crumble. In the safety of her room, the tears she had held back flooded out, muffling her cries with a pillow.

~~

A knock sounded through the room and Y/N wiped her tears hastily before opening the door, revealing Luke, Jack, and Nico standing there with concern etched across their faces.

“Hey, Y/N,” Luke said softly, stepping inside. “We wanted to see how you’re holding up.”

Jack and Nico followed closely, and the moment they were in, the tension in the room shifted. Jack leaned against the wall, arms crossed, while Nico took a seat at the edge of her bed, his expression serious.

“That guy had no right to say what he did,” Nico said, his voice steady. “I don’t care how big the network is; no one gets to treat you like that.”

Y/N felt warmth in her chest at their concern, but the hurt lingered. “I tried to stay strong during the interview. I didn’t want to show that it affected me.”

“You shouldn’t have to pretend with us,” Jack said, his tone softening. “You’re part of this family, and we’re here to support you.”

Before Y/N could respond, her phone buzzed with messages from Matt, Trevor, and Quinn checking in.

Matt: Hey, just heard about the interview. You good?

Trevor: That interviewer was out of line. You’re way too talented to let anyone bring you down like that.

Quinn: Just wanted to check in. You can always talk to us, ok?

Feeling a rush of emotion, Y/N responded quickly, trying to reassure them. Y/N: Thanks, guys! I’m okay, really. Just a bit tired.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Y/N opened it to find Matt standing there, a concerned expression on his face, holding a bag of snacks.

“Hey, I came as soon as I heard,” he said, stepping inside. “I thought you might want some company.”

“Matt, you didn’t have to—” she started, but he waved her off.

“Of course I did. You’re one of us, and I couldn’t just sit back and let you deal with this alone.” He looked at her, his eyes warm and reassuring. “How are you really feeling?”

Y/N sighed, rubbing her eyes. “I just didn’t expect to be affected by that interview. I thought I was tougher than that.”

“You are tough,” Matt insisted, his voice steady. “But it’s okay to feel hurt. What that guy said was completely out of line. You work hard and deserve to be treated with respect.”

“Yeah, but I tried to act like it didn’t bother me,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to show weakness in front of anyone, especially the boys.”

“Showing emotion isn’t weakness,” Jack chimed in, stepping closer. “We’re all here for you, no matter what. You don’t have to hide anything from us.”

“You know we’ve got your back,” Luke added, leaning against the desk. “You’re family, Y/N.”

As if on cue, Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “I just feel like I have to prove myself all the time.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” Matt said firmly. “You’re already proving it on the ice. We all see how hard you work, and you’ve earned your spot. Don’t let someone’s ignorance change how you see yourself.”

Y/N took a deep breath, letting his words sink in. “Thanks, Matt. It really helps to hear that.”

Matt grinned and reached into the bag. “Let’s do something fun to take your mind off it. I brought snacks, and we can watch a movie or play a game—whatever you want.”

“Movie sounds good,” Y/N said, feeling grateful for the distraction.

As they settled in, Jack pulled out his phone, scrolling through social media. “I can’t believe people would say things like that. It’s ridiculous.”

“Seriously,” Nico said, shaking his head. “We know how hard you work. Don’t let some clueless interviewer make you doubt yourself.”

Matt, who was setting up the snacks, added, “Exactly. We’re all proud of you. If that guy thinks he can take you down, he’s got another thing coming.”

Y/N felt a swell of gratitude for her friends. “I really appreciate this. I didn’t expect to feel so… hurt after it all.”

“You should never feel alone in this,” Luke said softly. “We’re always here for you.”

As they started the movie, Y/N felt the overwhelming love from her teammates lift some of the weight off her shoulders. Surrounded by their laughter and camaraderie, she realized that no matter the challenges she faced, she had a family who would always stand by her side.

[azzibuckets]

Paper Rings [Part 6/10 | Paige Bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: the road to recovery

word count: 1.4k

masterlist w/ all parts

PRESENT DAY

You wrung your hair out with a towel, trying to get the chlorine out. You played for the club water polo team at UConn since they didn’t have an official, NCAA-organized team. You knew this sport didn’t hold much weight when you told others you were a student athlete, but water polo was what you loved, and you threw yourself into it, always being the first in the pool and the last to get out, swimming the extra laps, and bringing the energy to every game.

Ella, one of your teammates, snuck up from behind you and wrapped you in a hug. “Good job today,” she giggled, water from her hair dripping onto your shoulder.

Today had been the last tournament game of the season, and your last ever game with the seniors. Ella was one of your closest friends on the team and unfortunately one of those seniors, and you knew that you were going to miss her bad.

“Please don’t graduate,” you groaned, returning her hug. “Don’t leave me here.”

“As much as I’ve loved playing with you, I’m ready to leave college,” Ella admitted. “Once my finals are done, I’m out.”

Soon her family joined you two, congratulating you two on our big win. They adorned Ella with candy leis and stuffed bouquets of flowers in her arms, then squished the two of you in for a picture.

“So cute!” Ella’s grandma, Lily, gushed. She came over to squeeze your cheeks. “You’re such a darling. Where’s your family?”

You blushed at the attention. Lily was one of the sweetest women you’d ever met. “I’m not a senior, so I told them not to worry about coming out,” you explained.

“Oh?” Lily quirked her eyebrow. “That’s too bad! It’s still the last game of the season, which is pretty important. Good thing your friend came to cheer you on!”

You tilted your head quizzically. “What do you mean? My friends couldn’t make it.”

Lily looked taken aback. “Oh, I must’ve gotten things mixed up. She didn’t say she was your friend, but she’s been to several of your games, and she knows so much about you, I just assumed!”

“She?” you furrowed your eyebrows, not really understanding what Lily was saying.

The older lady nodded enthusiastically, wrapping her hands around yours. “I always forget her name, honey, but she’s a very nice girl, very tall with blonde hair. I recall her saying once that she plays basketball here!”

At that, Ella nudged you, a confused look in her eyes. “No way. Is she talking about Paige?” You blinked in disbelief before you swiveled back to her grandma.

“Wait, I’m sorry. You said she’s been to multiple of my games?”

“Well, she always comes a little late and leaves a little early, but she’s been to at least five games,” Lily responded. “I didnt talk to her until the third or fourth game, until I overheard her explaining to someone else about how the game worked. She talked about you, said you were amazing and worked so hard. She always knows how many goals you scored too!”

You froze, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts. You and Paige had talked last week for the first time in a year, but from what Lily was saying, she must’ve been at your games spanning across your season from the last few months. You weren’t sure what to do with this piece of information. Paige had been so dismissive of you that night you’d gotten into an argument, made it seem like she wanted nothing to do with you. And now she’s been attending your games? She obviously hadn’t wanted you to find out, which she had done a pretty good job of. You’d told her before that you don’t ever look at the audience in the stands during games; the people there made you nervous, and it was hard to see in the water anyways. So she’d taken advantage of that, coming in late and leaving early. So if she didn’t want you to know, why come?

As these thoughts plagued your mind, Ella gently laid a hand on your elbow. “I gotta go with my family now, but call me later, alright?” she said gently.

You nodded distractedly, rushing to gather my things and go home so you could process in peace.

—————————

“Where were you?” KK questioned as soon as Paige walked into the lounge. The shorter girl was sprawled out on the couch, a pillow supporting her chin as she scrolled through her Tiktoks.

“Are you ever not on Tiktok?” Paige teased, slapping her on the head before plopping down next to her.

KK guffawed. “I know you’re not talking. I might have to block you with all the thirst traps you’re posting. The edits are getting less and less cordial.”

Paige rolled her eyes, grabbing KK’s phone before throwing it to the end of the coach. KK shot her a menacing glare before crawling to retrieve her phone. “You didn’t answer my question, P Boogers.”

“I was just walking around campus,” Paige replied. It technically wasn’t a lie, because she had walked from the pool deck to Werth.

“Lies.” KK regarded her with a confident smirk as she wagged her phone. “I checked your location.”

Paige didn’t like where this was going.

“I checked your location,” KK repeated, “and you were at the pool!” She smiled triumphantly at that, as if she had just caught Paige red handed.

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Okay, so what? I was walking by and I saw a game going on, so I decided to watch. I watch basically every women’s sport on campus.” When KK continued to look at her with that infuriating smirk on her face, Paige started rambling. “I mean, it would be discrimination by not going to the game. You know I’m the biggest supporter of women in sports. Water polo is so underrated and-,”

“Okay, chill out,” KK interrupted, holding her hands up in surrender. “But you seem to be at the pool deck a lot. Like it’s getting borderline creepy.”

The taller girl shrugged. “It’s not like Y/N knows I go.“ She perked up, as if she just remembered something. “She played so good today, KK. She scored three goals, and one was from half, and it was a buzzer beater lob.”

KK shook her head. “Damn, P. This girl’s got you wrapped around her pinky, and you guys don’t even talk any more. Which kinda sucks.” KK flopped backwards, staring up at the ceiling. “We were just getting close when you guys broke up. She was really cool.”

Paige bit her bottom lip. She hated herself every day for how your friendship had ended, and she didn’t need her friends on her ass about it too. “We didn’t break up,” she corrected. “We never dated. And yeah, I know it sucks bro. I miss her too.”

“Why don’t you guys just talk it out? Like, you guys were best friends. I’m sure she misses you too,” KK advised, a hopeful look in her eyes. Paige felt a wave of guilt crash over her. She always thought about how the end of your friendship affected her, but she always forgot about how it impacted her teammates too. They had absolutely loved you, the way you showed up to all their games to support them and brought them freshly baked cookies to practice during hell week. You were funny and quick witted, and they truly saw you as one of them. And all of that Paige had ruined.

“I’m sorry, KK,” Paige apologized. “It’s just really fucking hard.”

KK nodded slowly. “Okay, good thing she’s coming to senior night then! You can talk to her then.”

“She’s what?” Paige lurched up, rigid.

“Nika said she wanted to go to senior night but tickets were all sold out, so she had to ask Nika if any of us had leftover family tickets. And I do,” KK gleefully informed Paige, pleased at her shocked reaction.

“You guys are actually gonna drive me insane,” Paige breathed out, slumping back in her seat. She could feel a migraine coming on.

“You better make a move or something at the game, Paige. I’m serious. We’re tired of you pining over her like this,” KK said.

Paige slowly exhaled. The thought of seeing you again filled her with a sort of nervous excitement, like a school girl counting down the minutes to see her hallway crush. But anxiety pooled in the pit of her stomach. You hated her, Paige was sure. She wasn’t used to rejection, and you gave it to her so easily last week. But Paige knew she’d have to suck it up if she’d want you back. And God, she wanted you.

——————-

1 WEEK LATER: SENIOR NIGHT

Paige dribbled the ball between her legs. She closed her eyes, trying to relish the feeling of being here in Gampel on her senior night. She wasn’t too worried about the actual game; they were only playing Georgetown. But today she would be announcing her plans on returning next year. And today, there’d also be you.

As much as she wanted to see you, Paige hoped that the family ticket that KK gave you weren’t court side. She would have a difficult time focusing on the game if you were right there, studying her every move.

After the senior night ceremony wrapped up and the game began, Paige forced herself to block out all the noise in her mind. This was basketball, and she just needed to come out and do what she normally did. She remained focused while playing, and she only saw you towards the end of the third quarter when she got subbed out for a break. She almost lost her breath when she saw you, casually sitting court-side (damn you KK). You weren’t looking at her, but were focused on the game. You stood up and cheered in excitement when Aaliyah scored a layup, and Paige admired how naturally gorgeous you were, with your eyes sparkling and mouth turned up into a bright smile. Her fingers itched with the urge to touch you, to hold your cheek in her hand and dig her nose into your hair to smell your sweet vanilla conditioner and nip the sensitive skin right under your ear. She wanted to kiss away the smile on your lips, kiss you til neither of you could breathe. But she couldn’t.

Soon the game ended, but Paige didn’t head back to the locker room with the rest of the girls. Mustering up her courage, she tried to walk as confidently as she could to where you were packing up your things from your seat.

“Hey.”

You froze at her voice. Pursing your lips, you looked up.

Paige stayed silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. After you raised an eyebrow expectantly, she rushed to say, “You like the game?”

You smiled genuinely then. “Course I did. The team played great, as always. Aaliyah was killing it out there.”

Paige had always loved how you loved her teammates, but now she felt nothing but jealousy, that the only reason she could get you to smile was by talking about the team. Paige bit the inside of her cheek. “Thank you for coming.”

Irritation flooded your face. “I didn’t come for you.” That was a definite lie. You had wanted to come watch Paige on senior night. You knew how important this was to her, how much she loved playing for UConn. You wouldn’t have missed it for the world (and definitely not because you realized Paige had been silently supporting you at your games this entire time) which is why you had to awkwardly reach out to Nika to beg for tickets like a dog with scraps.

“No yeah, of course,” Paige stumbled over her words. “I was just saying, you know, thanks, in a broad sense from the entire team?”

You almost giggled as you observed Paige’s nervous behavior. But you didn’t want to give her any false hopes that you guys were okay, so you bit your lip to stop your laugh.

“Listen, I know we’re not…” Paige vaguely gestured between the two of them. “But the team’s really missed you, and I know they really want you to come to Nika’s tonight to celebrate. The coaches will be there, so there’s not gonna be any drinks or funny business.”

“Yeah, I know. Nika texted me,” you sighed, fiddling with the ends of your hair. “But it’s been a really long night.”

“You don’t have to stay for long,” Paige said. “And I’ll like, stay away on the complete opposite side of the room, if you want me to. But come for KK and Nika and the rest of the girls. Please.”

You melted under Paige’s hopeful look, and ducking your head, you said shyly, “Okay, yeah. I’ll be there.”

Out of reflex, Paige reached up to touch your elbow in gratitude, but you quickly dodged, lamely covering it up by swiftly gathering your hair and putting it in a ponytail. The light in Paige’s eyes dimmed, and she crossed her arms awkwardly. You cursed at yourself for making things so tense.

“Well, I gotta do some press then change. I’ll see you later maybe?” You only nodded in response, and Paige gave you a weak, half hearted smile before jogging off.

[0-n-1-x]

Nishinoya Yuu x Cheerleader!reader link to my masterlist <33

You and Nishinoya probably met during a school event, maybe a basketball match where you were cheering on your team. He was obviously drawn to your energy and enthusiasm, which matched his own. Noya is your biggest fan. He’s always front and center during your performances, cheering louder than anyone else. He even learns some of the cheers so he can do them with you. You cannot tell me that when he calls you to keep him company at the gym, you’ll practice your routines while Noya practices his skills and receives. You both are really competitive (being athletes), trying to outdo each other in stamina and precision. It’s a fun way to bond, and you both end up laughing, even if one of you wipes out.

If you do gymnastic type cheer, he definitely tries to copy some of your moves and flips (he folds the second he sees one of your tumble routines). Think you have the best routines in the world and will fight any judge that thinks otherwise, no matter how many times you tell him that you actually did mess up. Noya would totally want to help with your stunts, insisting he could be a base. While he might not be tall, his strength and determination make up for it, and you trust him completely

if you do stomp and shake cheer or call-and-response type cheer, he will dedicate hours to learn all of your lyrics and the moves that go with them, he also definitely does the trendy ones with you when they go viral on TikTok. And to be completely honest he got scared of your cheer voice in the beginning, but he grew to really like your ability to switch up on- and off the court, even if it surprises him (he's still a little scared to come up to you after you win a game).

you guy's sports use similar muscle group so expect a LOT of peer-conditioning dates (followed up by a meal for 10)

if any tries to tell you that 'you aren't a real athlete' or 'cheer isn't a sport' best believe that Noya is right next to you defending. Even if you tell him it's not worth it, and it's also a personal headcanon of mine that he is insanely good at roasts so this person's whole bloodline is cooked.

Noya loves surprising you with little things, like bringing you more water during practice or leaving encouraging notes with doodles in your cheer bag. He’s always thinking of ways to make you smile, just as you do for him. If your seasons don't match up, he is coming to the games that you cheer for, who cares if he doesn't understand basketball? his girl is out there. Plus, he begs you to make cheer just for him. It might start as a joke, but you’d end up putting real effort into it, and he’d beam with pride every time you perform it during a game. Even teaching some of your teammates for a surprise in your student section

If your seasons do match, that's the time when you see eachother the least, at first there was tension on you guys, but after a year or so you both get used to it and understand that you're both student-athletes with buys schedules.

Before big events, you might sneak into the boys’ locker room after most of them leave to give him a quick pep talk, because we all know he struggles with mental health. It becomes a tradition, with some of the team playfully teasing him but none of them know what you're saying and how encouraging it is <33

to the anon that requested this thank you so much!! (I unfortunately couldn't find your ask so I'm so sorry </3) this is definitely a favorite trope of mine because I have experience in sports and cheerleading, so I probably over yapped ngl

[brodygold]

The Water Boy

Max wasn’t thrilled about his new living arrangement. That might be a bit of an understatement. After a string of bad luck and a breakup with his girlfriend that left him without a place to stay, his only option had been to move in with his old colleague Brody. The problem? Brody was an athlete—through and through—and Max had never gotten along with jocks super well. He didn’t understand their obsessive drive, their fixation on training, or their constant talk about “the game.” And it’s not like Max was homophobic, but Brody having trouble bringing any guy he wanted to his bedroom hit a sore spot.

Brody, of course, was part of the Golden Army, the top-tier soccer team everyone in the city knew about. Their shining gold jerseys, their camaraderie, their relentless work ethic—it was all lost on Max, who had no patience for any of it. Brody, though, was unfazed by Max’s disdain, always inviting him to hang out with the team or come to a game.

But Max wasn’t having it. He spent most of his time in his room, away from Brody and the other Golden Army guys who sometimes dropped by. He just wanted peace and quiet, but it was hard to find that in a household that lived and breathed soccer and all kinds of other sports.

One evening, Brody approached Max in the living room, holding a gleaming golden jersey in his hands. “We could use some help at the next match. Just as a water boy. No pressure, no running around, just help out with the bottles and towels.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’m cut out for that.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad. Plus, it’s just a way to hang out. You don’t have to love sports, but you’ll get to see the team up close. Maybe you’ll even like it.”

Max sighed. Brody was impossible to refuse when he got that encouraging, boyish grin. “Fine, but I’m not wearing one of those jerseys.”

Brody chuckled. “You might change your mind.”

The day of the big game arrived, and Max found himself on the sidelines, watching the Golden Army warm up. Their gold jerseys shimmered under the stadium lights, and the crowd roared with excitement. Max couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something—a pull he hadn’t expected. Even if he didn’t care about the sport, the energy was contagious.

As the match kicked off, Max went about his tasks, handing out water and towels, keeping to himself. But then, Brody jogged over, looking a bit winded. “Here, take this,” he said, tossing Max one of the spare golden jerseys. “You’re part of the team now, whether you like it or not.”

Max stared at the jersey, reluctant at first. But something compelled him to put it on. The moment he pulled the fabric over his head, something strange happened. It wasn’t just the smooth texture or the comfortable fit—it was as if the jersey changed him. His mind relaxed, the frustrations and irritations of living with athletes melting away. He felt a connection to the team, to Brody, and to the spirit of the Golden Army. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he started seeing them in a new light. Max found himself hoping to spend some more “quality time” with the team after the game. Especially with his good friend and roommate Brody.

Suddenly, being a water boy didn’t seem so bad. In fact, it felt like the perfect place for him. He smiled as he ran to refill the bottles, his steps light and easy. The crowd, the game, the team—it all mattered now. And when Brody scored the winning goal in the final moments, Max felt a surge of pride unlike anything he’d experienced before.

After the game, as the Golden Army celebrated their victory, Brody found Max near the bench. “How’s the water boy life treating you?”

Max grinned, still wearing the golden jersey. “Not bad, actually. I think I could get used to this.”

Brody laughed and pulled Max into a tight hug. “I knew you’d come around.”

The team celebrated into the night, and Max found himself surrounded by new friends—people he once thought he’d never relate to. But now, with Brody by his side and the Golden Army embracing him as one of their own, he felt like he belonged. For the first time in a long time, Max wasn’t just watching from the sidelines—he was part of something bigger, something golden.

Later that night, when the stadium was quiet and the celebrations had died down, Max and Brody stood together, looking out at the empty field. “Thanks for pushing me to do this,” Max said softly.

Brody smiled. “I always knew you had it in you. Now you’re one of us.”

Max chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

The two of them walked off the field, the bond between them stronger than ever. And Max knew exactly how to pay him back.

[steddieasitgoes]

Friday Night Lights

written partly for the STWG discord prompt: "Starry Night" and partly to celebrate the wonderful @thefreakandthehair birthday. I tried to bring some sports into for you Lex! wc: 1312 | rated: T Read on ao3

Eddie’s been standing outside the locker room for forty-five minutes when he starts to get worried. He’s no stranger to waiting, knows Steve likes to take his time after a big game showering, celebrating, and decompressing. It’s why he sent Robin and Chrissy on ahead of them. But Tommy left fifteen minutes ago, Coach a few minutes after and there’s still no sign of his boyfriend in all his winning glory.

Stubbing out his cigarette under the toe of his boot, he pushes off from the cement wall and begins his search. The locker room doors are already locked. He saw Coach Hopper lock them himself so there’s no point in looking there. Instead, he follows the pathway Steve’s been taking for four years nearly every Friday night, chasing the bright lights until he turns onto Hawkins High’s Football Field.

The scoreboard has been turned off, but the bright lights are still on illuminating the field. There in the middle, on the fifty-yard line is Steve. He’s still in his pads and jersey, knees drawn up to his chest as he clings to the helmet in his hands. His trademark Harrington Hair is flat, sticking to his forehead with a mix of sweat and the Gatorade the team spilled over him when he threw the final pass winning them the championship.

Eddie doesn’t have to get closer to know Steve’s deep in thought. Knows his brows are knitted together, his bottom lip trapped under his teeth as he irritates that one piece of skin he never lets heal.

“Hey sweetheart,” he whispers, slowly lowering himself down onto the field beside Steve. “Been waiting for you.”

“Sorry,” Steve says, slowly turning to face Eddie. He gives him a soft, shy smile before tipping his head back as his gaze locks on the bright lights above.

“S’okay. Everything okay?”

“We just won the championship, of course, everything is okay,” Steve mumbles.

Eddie doesn’t press. He’s been with Steve long enough to know that he’ll tell him what’s really bothering him when he’s ready. So he sits in silence instead. Lets the bright lights coat him in warmth, digs his hands into the torn-up grass of the field and rips a few pieces free. He’s seconds away from reaching into his pocket to light his second smoke of the night when Steve sighs beside him.

“It feels weird, knowing this is it, I mean. I just played my last game ever on this field, under these lights and…”

Eddie scoots closer and slowly gets his arm around Steve’s middle before tugging him closer. It’s not as smooth as he’d like, especially not with all the padding Steve’s still wearing, but he still gets the job done. He feels the deep sigh Steve exhales before his head comes to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“There’s just something magical about being here every Friday. Looking up and being blinded by the lights that are only on to help you play a game. They always kept me focused. Remind me that I’m not alone in the world,” Steve pauses before shaking his head. “It sounds stupid, I know.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid,” Eddie says, voice firm so Steve knows he’s not just saying that. Sure, Eddie might not get the whole sports thing, but he gets that feeling. The adrenaline rush of being in the spotlight, all eyes and attention on you. It’s why he loves theater so much. “I get it.”

“I guess I just wanted to soak it up one last time.”

Eddie hums, titling his own head so his cheek grazes the still-damp hair on Steve’s head. “The lights were always going to go out on this field. I mean, you can’t stay in high school forever, and who the hell wants that anyway.” Steve laughs and Eddie feels his entire body turn molten at the sound. “But, the good news is, I know a place that can give you that same feeling. Somewhere that no one will ever be able to take from you.”

“If you say your bedroom or some shit like that I’m never blowing you again.”

“You can't deny the magic that happens in that room” Eddie laughs, earning a harsh shove from Steve in return. “But no, I’m being serious this time. Why don’t you go change and meet me by the car?”

Steve nods and gets to his feet effortlessly despite playing one of the most grueling football games of his life. He waits to help Eddie up to his feet before he’s hustling off toward the locker room.

As they reunite at the van ten minutes later, the field lights flick off sending them into darkness. Eddie can feel Steve’s mood deflate, making out the way his shoulders sag in the pitch black as the light he’s come to expect goes out for the final time.

“Come on,” Eddie says, nudging him with his hip. “You’re going to love this place. I promise.”

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐   🏈   ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Ten minutes later, Eddie steers the van off the road and into the forest surrounding Hawkins. The engine rattles and the tires rumble as they drive over the rough terrain of the ground but it’s all worth it when they reach the clearing half a mile in. Eddie cuts off the engine and hops out and Steve follows without being told.

Wasting no time, Eddie hops on the hood of the van and knocks his head against it urging Steve to follow. When they’re both situated, he folds his hands behind his head and leans back, letting his eyes gaze up at the starry night sky as he instructs Steve to follow his lead.

“Don’t forget to look up,” he reminds him after the sound of his ruffling to get comfortable stops.

Eddie doesn’t have to turn his head to know when Steve does. The soft gasp that passes his lips is all the proof he needs.

“I know the stars aren’t the same thing as the bright lights of the field and the roaring cheers of the crowd, but they’re also not that different. I used to drive out here after closing nights of shows. Clear my head, let the adrenaline burn off a bit before heading to the diner with the cast and crew.

“It’s quieter out here, but I got the same chills I did when I stepped on stage in that stupid lion costume, the first time I looked up and saw the stars shining like that. It was like a weird reminder that I wasn’t alone. That someone or something, I guess, was still looking out for me.”

There’s a beat of silence that follows, but Eddie doesn’t let it rile him up like the silence between them used to. He knows now that Steve’s not going anywhere. Especially not when he’s just bared a part of his soul in a way that he never has before.

Sure enough, the moment passes as Steve hums. “It’s like a whole crowd up there, shining over us.”

“Yeah!” Eddie says, quiet but still enthusiastic that Steve gets it. Carefully, he rolls onto his side and props his head up with one hand as he gazes at Steve. “Exactly.”

“Thank you for bringing me out here,” Steve says, rolling over to mirror Eddie again. He doesn’t stop when he’s on his side though and keeps scooting across the hood until he’s centimeters from Eddie.

The kiss is soft and delicate. Almost as if Steve is too shy to kiss him under the stars, but Eddie doesn’t mind. He’ll take whatever kiss Steve has to offer anytime, anywhere.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Eddie breathes, leaning in to give Steve a chaste kiss of his own.  “Now come on, you have a championship to celebrate and if you don’t show up at Hagan’s soon, Robbie is definitely going to be filing a missing persons report.”

[morganbritton132]

would steve ever insist that eddie comes to basketball games with him just so they have an excuse to get those good seats right at the court that famous people and celebrities usually get?

Eddie is not Steve’s go-to person if he wants basketball tickets.

He goes to Lucas because every doctor knows a doctor that knows someone with season tickets they never use. And also, Steve kinda wants to go to the game with someone who, you know, will actually enjoy being there.

Eddie’s undying hatred of all things sports is, well…undying.

But Steve’s been a Pacers’ fan since the first time his dad shoved a basketball in his hands and taught him how to shoot. He has watched them lose in the playoffs every year that they make it to it, but he’s convinced. 2014 was going to be different.

He just can’t get tickets. He spent all day trying to buy them online and failed, and all the resale tickets are for seats that suck or way over his paygrade. Him and Eddie pay for their own hobbies out of their separate bank accounts, and Steve can’t afford the absolutely ridiculous price that’s being asked so…

“Please?” Steve asked, big puppy eyes and adorable little pout. He knew what he was doing and so did Eddie. “Pretty please? I never ask you for anything, Ed…Okay, fine, except for all the stuff I ask you for, but this is different. It’s a small price to pay to see my team win.”

“Your team that has literally never won in the history of all time?”

“How many championships does Leg-less the loser elf have?” Steve asked.

“…It’s Legolas,” Eddie said. “And he was a part of the fellowship that kinda saved the world.”

“So was I,” Steve pointed out. “And I deserve this.”

Steve didn’t ask for courtside seats. He didn’t ask to be sat among the rich and famous. Hell, he didn’t even ask Eddie to go with him. He just wanted to see if Eddie had a connection that could get him a ticket for a seat that wasn’t in the nosebleeds.

Steve doesn’t really believe that the tickets Eddie showed him are real until they are sitting in their seats – their seats that are courtside and five feet away from Paul George warming up. Steve is so excited to be there that he pretty much misses Eddie shaking someone’s hand right in front of him until he’s nudged in the shoulder, “Babe, you know, Sandy, right?”

“Yeah, totally,” Steve says absently, sparing a glance in the direction Eddie was gesturing before looking back out at the court. It takes him a second for his brain to register who he was just looking at and then, “Holy shit, you’re Sandra Bullock.”

She is just as beautiful and as nice as Steve has always thought she was, and she’s amused by him which makes Steve blush. She holds out her hand to him, “And you are…”

“I’m…” Steve trails off, only picking back up his train of thought when Eddie laughs loudly beside him. “Steve. I’m Steve. Uh, Harrington. Eddie’s – I’m – we’re together, by law.”

“We’re married,” Eddie grinned, throwing his arm over Steve’s shoulder, and wiggling his wedding ring at her. “Still working on how to tell people, obviously.”

She congratulates them and talks to them a bit about the game (bring Steve out of his starstruck stupor), and even buys them champagne as a late little wedding gift. It’s a blast.

Eddie spends half the game flinching every time the ball bounces a little too close or a player nearly ends up in their lap, but Steve is loving all of it. The other half of the time, Eddie is having Steve explain what’s going on and who the players are, or he’s talking to the guy next to him.

It’s some square jawed model type that Steve doesn’t recognize and also, doesn’t like. He’s a little too friendly with his husband, especially when he curled a piece of Eddie’s hair around his finger. When the two of them end up on the kiss cam together, Eddie doesn’t even get a chance to register it before Steve pulls him nearly out of the camera frame and kisses him.

Later, fans will make jokes about the pictures of that night because it’s very clear that Steve and Eddie switched seats.

[notlayingroses]

honestly the one of the things that makes me the most sad about this hockey romance / booktok drama is that now so many hockey fans have a negative impression of hockey romances and sports romances. There are so, so many wonderful, queer romances out there that are doing wonderful, nuanced, and intentional things within the sports romance genre, and I hate that now people are looking down on them.

Here's some reasons that I love sports romances:

It’s a celebrity romance, but more of a niche celebrity romance. This isn’t a Hollywood super star that everyone in the world knows their name, BUT they often do have a dedicated fan base and are still in the public eye. It brings up really interesting discussions of fame and power and how much of yourself you keep private. So you get a lot of the good celebrity romance tropes and settings (like secret relationship, having to do interviews, traveling to new cities) but on a more niche and interesting scale

And bouncing off of that, with queer sports romances you get a lot of really interesting discussions of coming out, how you present your queerness to the world, how much of yourself is “owed” to the people around you vs yourself, which is very interesting when explored through a sports culture lense and I really enjoy the discussions of queer identity, culture, and community that come out of it. And particularly if it a romance between two players, there's a lot of really interesting queer nuances to explore

There are so many different pairings that can happen, but most of them kind of boil down to player/player, player/sports professional, player/normie, and each of these dynamics are interesting to me every time, especially when exploring teammate dynamics! And exploring how fame affects each of these things!

Found family! Your team is your family! And everyone has silly nicknames and rituals with each other and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy

With every romance, you pretty much know that it’s gonna end with a Happily Ever After, which is why we love the genre. But sometimes that can take the “surprise” out of a romance and its structure. Within sports romances, you don’t know how the game is going to go! They could win! They could lose! That affects the characters either way! And there’s been several sports romances that had me on the edge of my seat cause I genuinely had no idea which way the championship game was gonna go! I like that extra plot element to keep things interesting 

I also like it when you can tell the author is a big fan of their sport, and even if EYE don’t know anything about the sport, they’re generally good at writing things in a makes sense and makes the action interesting and keeps me hooked. It’s also just nice to step into the world the author loves!

Genuinely I just think that queer sports romances are doing so many interesting things, and have such interesting niches and nuances to the stories they’re telling! And they should not be looked down upon by hockey fans OR romance fans who have witnessed this booktok drama go down and now don’t want to touch hockey romances with a ten foot pole.

Here are some of the queer sports romances I recommend for anyone who wants to get into the genre:

[kierantierney3]

Since England lost the final can you please do part 2 of "lovers", thank you in advance :)

Hi thank you for your request!!! I enjoyed making part 1 and was hoping to get to write a part 2.

Disclaimer i’m not english i’m scottish that tells you everything you need to know about who i wanted to win the final.

Masterlist

Face claim: Alessia Russo

Part 1

————-

yourusername

liked by ødegaard.98, ellatoone and 99,882 others

yourusername Special night 3/3 in the group stage. Now onto round of 16. Thank you everyone for the support. Buzzing to score my first goal hopefully more to come.

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ødegaard.98 So so proud 😍❤️

ødegaard.98 Amazing player

ellatoone ❤️ Mrs Ødegaard

user What a star ⭐️

ødegaard.98

liked by yourusername, declanrice and 291,949 others

ødegaard.98 What a start to the season. Thank you for all the support. See you for the start of the premier league. 🏆

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yourusername So proud of you i love you. What a player. Deserve all of it. ❤️

user Best team

user This team man!!! can’t wait for the premier league to restart.

yourusername

liked by ødegaard,98, keirawalsh and 101,839 others

yourusername What an unbelievable team. We fought hard and got through. Thanks for the support. See you in the next round. 🦁

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ødegaard.98 No surprises here. What a player and what a team. 😍

⤷ I love you 😘

user What a unreal player. Big season coming up ⬆️

user We are going to win it 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

yourusername story

yourusername

liked by ødegaard.98, eddienketiah and 128,939 others

yourusername Through to the semi finals. What a performance from everyone. See you guys for the next game. 🦁🤍

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ødegaard.98 Some player. I miss you but i’m so proud of you. ❤️

user It’s coming home

user Women’s football > men’s football

ødegaard.98

liked by yourusername, bukayosaka87 and 239,920 others

ødegaard.98 Back with 3 points ❤️ Thanks for the support

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yourusername Sorry you only got me 2 points in my premier league team straight out for someone else. ❤️

bukayosaka87 Captain 👏🏿

user Typical Arsenal nerve racking last minutes with a goal advantage.

yourusername

liked by ødegaard.98, leahwilliamson and 183,894 others

yourusername Off to the world cup finals. What an unbelievable support from everyone. See you soon 🦁🦁

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ødegaard.98 Amazing! Bring it home.

user Can’t believe it think i was in shock for a good couple hours.

user Final is going to be the most stressful thing ever.

ødegaard.98

liked by declanrice, benwhite and 318,929 others

ødegaard.98 Big win, big team performance from everyone. Proud of them. ❤️

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user Ref was shocking

user Please please give y/n a massive hug when you finally see her. Deserves so much money, and seemed heartbroken at full time.

user Some player. Can’t believe we got you for £30 million.

yourusername

liked by ødegaard.98, judebellingham and 102,939 others

yourusername Sadly it wasn’t meant to be. We are heartbroken. So proud of everyone we just came up short. Full congratulations to spain they played a good game of football and came out the winners.

Thank you for all the support from everyone around to world. Some amazing 6 weeks that i will never forgot.

Now we rest for the upcoming season ahead. No doubt we will come back stronger again. 🦁🤍

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ødegaard So proud of you and the team you did everyone amazingly. Football is a cruel sport.

user So proud of you and the girl you did us all proud.

judebellingham 🤍 Rest up well.

user See you for the new season. Rest up it’s a big season ahead.

ødegaard.98 story

Hope that is ok. Got a couple more requests still need to be written. I tend to write the ones that come in first.