#still not entirely sure where i wanna put him

[grimmsbride]

▒ ❀ ̭͡⠀ ❛ SOME ENCOURAGEMENT. NAM-GYU / PLAYER 124

nam-gyu attempts to recruit beloved, timid reader into thanos’s world. all it takes is a little encouragement.

𖥔 ࣪˖ TAGS, nam-gyu is a little pushy (but everything is consensual between him and reader) | unconsensual voyuerism (again everyone is asleep but i don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable) | ooc characters (first time writing for nam-gyu) | minor degradation & praise (+humiliation(?)) | use of the words slut, good girl, etc. | fingering | minor dacryphilia | just a silly little imagine | nam-gyu is lowkey manipulative | reader is a freak with a thing for fingers/hands | etc.

𖥔 ࣪˖ NOTES, writing smut on company time is actually hilarious, idk why i got this idea during work. but anywho — i hope you enjoy, i tried my hand at his character. as always please ignore any grammar mistakes or typos.

Imagine Nam-Gyu attempting to recruit someone without the advice of his beloved purple-haired leader. Surprising, right? Despite his own issues with inferiority; the ex-club worker just seems to follow behind Thanos like a hungry puppy desperate for a bone— or drugs, for that matter. But no, just this once, Nam-Gyu takes the lead. The numbers are growing closer and even more scarce, fear lacing people’s minds and causing them to hit that dreaded X button. Thanos’s World’s dream is to continue the games to pay off their debts, right?— so it only made sense for Nam-Gyu to turn an X over to the O side.

He couldn’t just pick anyone. Someone far too strong-willed would definitely tell him no, and someone far too weak would just be a curse rather than a blessing.

Who to choose.. Who to choose..

Soon enough the man’s eyes are locking on to you— a contestant he has seen around, yet hasn’t heard much from. Not only were you easy on the eyes but you just seemed like the perfect person to shape into a worthy teammate.

Within minutes he’s approaching you, an easy-going smile in place as your name falls from his lips. Nam-Gyu had heard it said before by someone close to you, another random that he hadn’t bother to think about.

“Yes..?” Your words are slow, lips pursing as you take in the man before you. You were beyond nervous; this was the lackey of that purple-haired lunatic after all. Watching the two fight on the very first day was enough to tell you to avoid them at all costs. Yet here you were, a few feet away from one of them, under his gaze that trailed over you like a pretty piece of jewelry behind a display case.

You couldn’t help but bring your hands closer to yourself, teeth dragging across your cheek nervously.

From your head to your toes, Nam-Gyu’s eyes soon landed on that big red patch residing just under your bosom. With a breathy chuckle he reached over, allowing a single finger to press and trace the X.

“You wanna get out of the games that bad, huh? You voted X twice already.”

Your eyes flicked down to his hand, before traveling back to his face. “Yeah well..” You dragged slowly, watching that harsh gaze return to your features.

“I—I want to get rid of my debts.. but putting my life on the line for it just seems..” You hoped you got your words across perfectly, even without continuing your sentence. Sure, it was hard being hounded for your debts, but death looming over your head just didn’t seem worth it.

Still, Nam-Gyu only shook his head at you, a sigh full of pity escaping his lips.

“Well, that’s where you’re messing up.” Nam-Gyu hummed, stepping just a bit closer, finger still tracing that damned patch. Your attention kept flicking between his face and finger, wondering why exactly warmth was pooling throughout your entire body.

“Worrying too much about dying is what’s gonna get you killed, not anything else.”

Your eyebrows knitted close, a look of confusion plastered across your face. Worrying seemed like the right way to keep yourself alive.. right? Not worrying just seemed, well— stupid. Not that you would say that to his face, obviously.

“I have to disagree..”

Just barely did you hear the sound of the man sucking his teeth, watching the way his face turned to the side, clearly searching for his next few words. You debated on walking away from this conversation, it was clear what his objective was. And whether ordered by Thanos or not, you didn’t really want to know— nor figure out.

Yet for some reason you were practically glued to the spot, blinking up at him and waiting oh, so patiently for his next spiel. And as you watched his face turn back to you, your breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay then.. worry all you want, but you wouldn’t you want someone to look out for you?” Nam-Gyu’s other hand was reaching to your patch at this point, using both thumbs to trace it. “Being on this side, there’s no unity.. it’s every person for themself.”

The two of you locked eyes, a sickeningly sweet smile crossing his face.

“Come with us, and we’ll look after you. I’ll personally see to it too.”

Slowly did your teeth sink into your bottom lip, struggling to maintain the eye contact that he seemed so keen on keeping. The only thing you could hear was your racing heart and the gentle sounds of his thumbs sliding across that red patch. His words were.. tempting. You wondered if he rehearsed what to say, like a video game with multiple endings; did he have it all figured out before he even walked over? Was he so prepared to convert you, using every rejection you had as some silly obstacles the man easily hobbled over?

So caught up in your thoughts, you hardly realized Nam-Gyu had gotten even closer until his breath fanned across your ear in a simple;

I’ll let you think it over, let’s talk again later..

When you thought of later, you initially believed in thirty mins or so. Maybe this time he would bring over his beloved leader to really get the point across. But no, later seemed to be during lights out; when you all should be sleeping, tucked away in the rare bliss these murderous games brought.

And the only talking that was happening was the soft words Nam-Gyu continued to whisper into your ear and the even softer moans of passion that slipped from your swollen lips.

See, Nam-Gyu wasn’t an idiot despite what Thanos seems to think. Quickly he caught on to two things whilst speaking to you.

The first being, you were quite cute when nervous. And two, you just loved looking at his hands.

So what better way to really stretch his point across but using his beloved fingers to stretch you open just how he liked?

“Should have done this from the start, look how cooperative you’re being..” The smile on Nam-Gyu’s face was permanent at this point, the corner of his mouth twitching with each pitiful moan you released. His rings were tossed lazily to the side, his bare fingers now pushing into your sloppy cunt so perfectly. Longer then your own, they pushed and prodded; opening you up and rubbing against your soaked walls. With each breath you were clenching, causing the smile on his face to only grow deeper.

“Scared of dying but not of some stranger finger-fucking you, huh? What a joke.”

You wanted to tell him off, how he was so mean and so wrong. But you couldn’t, not with how your mind was getting complete lost from his movements. Your teeth were grinding into your bottom lip, a metallic taste filling your mouth as time progressed. Deep moans thundered from your throat, muffled by your harsh biting. You couldn’t imagine having your little recruitment interrupted by some poor contestant just trying to get some rest.

But with the way Nam-Gyu was practically ruining you, it didn’t seem he cared much either way. He was so hellbent on coaxing you, his lips right against your ear as that damned thumb came and circled your swollen bud.

“I told you I’d look after you right, where’s my thank you?”

Your eyes widened the moment his free hand rose, pushing at your cheeks and basically forcing your lips to part. The sound you let out was a strangled mix of a moan and gasp, quickly clasping your own hand against your mouth.

Nam-Gyu chuckled on his breath, thrusting a third finger into your wet cunt as he spoke; “What? You scared of the other contestants realizing how much of a slut you are? Shouldn’t worry too much; this messy cunt is making enough noise for you.”

Your eyes were meeting the back of your skull, so fucking mean he was— yet you couldn’t help but enjoy the attention. His digits were curling inside, brushing across that special spot that caused you to shake. Your thighs were clenching harshly around his arm, rushed breaths escaping as your chest rose and fell.

“Th—thank you.. fuck— please…!” You whimpered as softly as you possibly could, glossy eyes staring up at the man. You felt accomplished the moment he drew closer, feeling the cold metal of his chain brush against your heated skin before a gentle kiss was pressed right against your cheek.

“What a good girl.. You wanna come, hm?” The hand was lowering to your throat, fingers simply wrapping around it yet not squeezing. Nam-Gyu watched in pure enjoyment at the way your head tossed back and forth in a rushed nod; how needy you were for him. What a palpable little thing, is what he thought.

“I can make that happen, you just gotta do something for me.”

More words, whispered, tempting; drifting right into your ear and hitting the same pleasurable spots right between your legs. Speaking of, you felt your peak drawing closer; a tight band resting deep in your tummy— ready to burst.

You knew what he wanted, you weren’t an idiot nor were you too fucked out to forget. Your mind was screaming at you, telling you an orgasm wasn’t worth pressing that cursed button.

Yet, for now, you weren’t thinking with your brain, but with your pussy instead.

“P—please let me join! I’ll press the button— I promise!” Another whisper-yell escaped you, desperation clinging to every word as they fled those pretty lips.

With that final confirmation Nam-Gyu was quickening the pace of his fingers, eating up the way your body convulsed, a lost look invading your eyes as you came undone. Your essence trickled down his fingers all the way to his wrist, a sticky residue that he would make sure you clean up later.

For now.. his hand rose from your throat to instead cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb right under your eye so tenderly— so sweetly.

“I knew you could do it.. just needed some encouragement, right?”

[faithlia]

⋆｡˚ Jᥙᥒ᥆ ୧˚｡⋆

english ins't my first lenguage.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, kind of friends to lovers.

a/n: this was a request for a sequel to something about you, however, this story doesn't tell much about what happened in its premise, although it has the same characters and their respective interests. also I'm so sorry for the delay, I've been very busy lately, but I hope you like it 💓

"you're make me wanna falling in love" - sabrina carpenter.

I don't know how to react to this or how to talk about it. After a series of meaningless flirtations and arousal-ridden insistence, I have Matt sitting on my living room floor, pretending he knows how to put the puzzle together properly. It's what? Eleven o'clock at night? Maybe he won't be leaving anytime soon.

I'm intrigued and anxious about what might happen if he comes over to my place. He wants to fuck me, and I know it; I have no objections to it, just thoughts of endless possibilities. I mean, I can't help myself, hormones are high.

When we arrive, I thought he was going to grab me and I would forget everything to focus on the moment, but that's not what happened.

I grab two glasses of wine, taking them to him in short steps.

"Thanks", he says as he reaches for the drink. I sit a little closer to him, but on the couch, watching him sort the pieces out to line them up in their proper place.

“How long have you been putting this together?” he asks, pointing with his finger.

“I don’t know. I think it’s been about two days,” I say. I really don’t know where I got the patience to put together a puzzle with a thousand tiny pieces, but the idea seems brilliant. “It helps me relax,” I sigh. I drink some more wine and then find myself staring at the empty glass �� like a professional drunk.

Seriously? You relax with that?" He downs the rest of his wine, looking at me with slanted eyes.

"Of course I do," I say, smiling like an idiot. It seems that half a glass of wine is enough for me to feel comfortable with each leg on either side of his body. He doesn't mind; in fact, he even drops his head back - right into my lap.

"I can't imagine you relaxing; You're always so anxious about everything." He looks at me with such serene eyes that I have to make sure that it's not a figment of my imagination and that his eyes and expression aren't the most attractive thing I've ever seen.

"I think I'm pretty relaxed now." It's not entirely a lie, but part of me feels like my heart is almost in my mouth. I bite my lip and dare to run my hands through his messy hair; it's soft, but at the same time it looks like he hasn't washed it. I don't think he's the kind of guy who spends time worrying about what products to put in his hair. It makes me want to wash his hair like he's a doll, which is kind of weird.

"Okay," he says. He sighs and closes his eyes, feeling very comfortable, and I like that. Little by little, a feeling settles in my chest, and I don't think so much about what might happen. Of course, yes, I really want to kiss him, because his mouth is so attractive, and everything about him makes me surrender to a simple touch or a bold tilt.

Without thinking, I start to trace his face with the tip of my finger, delicately. He doesn't open his eyes and this allows me to be more evasive, pinching the tip of his nose lightly.

"Wow" I say, laughing.

"What is it?", he asks, still with his eyes closed, settling his head more into my lap.

"It's just... Have you noticed that your nose is really big?", I think I'm drunk because this is the first time I've said something about his appearance. It's not an insult, but rather something that has always strangely attracted me to him.

Contrary to what I thought, Matt laughed.

"Fuck you", he says. I lean a little closer to his face and say, "I like it. I find it quite... useful." I smack my lips and Matt opens his eyes. Damn, again those damn eyes so beautiful they look like they're going to eat me alive.

Now everything seems sneaky. He whispers to me, "Really?", knowing exactly what I mean. And before I can say anything else, he pulls my head down and kisses me. It's a sloppy kiss, but neither of us cares. He caresses the back of my neck and lifts his body up to take my lips. The feeling of his mouth on mine is delicious. I feel like I'm Spider-Man wearing pink panties

Matt lets out a moan and it drives me crazy. I pull away from him from the discomfort of being so bent over.

"That was our first kiss", I point out.

"Yeah" he nods, turning to face me — still between my legs. "Was it good?" he asks, so relaxed that it makes me comfortable with what we just did.

I lick my lips and say "Yeah" too, but the sound is more like a moan.

"Do you want to do it again?" he raises his eyebrows suggestively.

"I do!", and that's absolutely true. "But I know where this is going," I think out loud. For some reason, I'm not reluctant to tell him what I'm thinking. Maybe the nervousness went away when I started drinking, and that's fine with me. I like to tell him what I think and I don't think he minds. I think he likes being teased by my words – especially since I like it when he does it to me.

"What? Sex?", he gives me a wicked smile. And looks directly at my breasts.

"Yes!", I lean back on the couch, feeling the softness of the upholstery. "And what's the problem, I thought you wanted it", he looks at me like a puppy. I move my hand to stroke his hair again.

"I don't know. Won't it be weird?" I ask, thinking about an idea that has crossed my mind many times.

"Why would it be weird?" he asks back and now we're playing this little game that I kind of like. I shrug and he's quiet for a while. "We don't have to have sex if you don't want to", he says, lowering his gaze to between my legs.

"Okay",I say it like I'm not dying to have him. I think he wants to eat me out and I wouldn't deny it, I'd just be annoying enough to make him tired of trying. "Are you upset?" I ask.

"This isn't the first time you've said no to me," I smile at that and he drags his hand up my thigh. "I want to wash your hair," I say and he rolls his eyes. "What? I really want to!"

"Do you want to give me a bath too?" I do, but I don't need to say it.

"Well, if it's to wash your hair..." I won't say it directly.

He shakes his head and sighs heavily, thinking about what to say, but before I do I reconsider. "But actually, I think it's better not to! I don't want you to get excited in the middle of everything," for a moment I regret what I said.

"Juno", he bites his lip, calling me.

"Hm?" I look at his mouth; it looks so soft.

"I've been hard for about two minutes now," I open and close my mouth, looking at the considerably large bulge in his pants. I don't know what to say. "Oh my God. I managed to shut your fucking mouth. Awesome!" he says as if it's the best thing in the world, but I don't take offense; he's said worse to me. With a little difficulty, he stands up and stretches his entire body with his back to me. I'm a little intimidated about what he's going to do; however, he sits down next to me and, at the same time, grabs a pillow to cover his "problem".

He doesn't say anything and I shift to get closer to him. Now, from how much I've played with his hair, he's slightly disheveled. "How are you going to fix this?" I ask, knowing he's going to give me an expected answer.

"Do you want to fix it for me?" Before I can answer, he kisses me, and this time with tongue, and it's so automatic that I gasp. He grabs my ass and squeezes the flesh hungrily. I moan into his mouth and he pulls me to sit on his lap – and I realize he's quickly removed the pillow, feeling the openness of the bulge. I'm not going to lie or be hypocrite; I've been wet for a while now. When he forces me against his cock, I feel my pussy throb – it feels so fucking good.

"Matt", I hold his face with both hands, almost crying. "I don't know if we should have sex now", I say, separating myself from his mouth and feeling a delicious longing as I move over his intimacy.

The truth is that, although I would like to have his mouth all over my body and his cock inside me, I'm insecure about everything. This concern invades my head when the realization that it's Matt who's there watching me moan like a whore on his lap. The fact that he's already seen my breasts weighs this stigma even more.

"Okay! I know you haven't had sex with guys in a while", it's true, but wait.

"How do you know that?", I frown.

"Because you tell me everything, idiot", he seals our lips quickly. Matt lowers his mouth to my neck, saying: "But at least let me eat you out or just suck your tits, or just watch you touch yourself; I would love that." He thrusts his hips against me, catching me off guard, making me gasp loudly with my mouth open.

I take a deep breath and gather the courage to tell him: "I want to, I really do! I'm just a little insecure..." I look down, trying not to rub myself against him. "I shouldn't, because you're so hot! And you know that's true." He lifts my chin with his hand and bites my neck, biting until he reaches my cleavage, sticking his face in there. "And, fuck, I've seen those tits, and they're even more beautiful up close." He squeezes my breasts with his big hands, intensifying a delicious sensation in my lower abdomen. "Do you want me to tell you about your pussy that's wetting my pants, too?" Matt looks at me, his eyes shining. It was true, I'm making a terrible mess.

Fuck.

"Do you still want to wash my hair?" Matt asks, with his naughtiest smile. I nod and he lifts me easily onto his lap and heads to the bathroom.

He's quick to take off my clothes and he's also quick to make me go crazy. He pushes me against the shower wall and kneels down to eat my pussy. I like the way he knows how to eat me and how grotesque he is in the sense of making a mess on his own face just to devour me. When he runs the tip of his nose over my clit and almost shoves his face inside me, he says in a very slurred voice: "That's what you wanted, isn't it?" and he takes saliva on the tip of his tongue to join my lubricated clit and satisfy me a little more. And, when I squirt on his face from the accumulated stimulation, he opens his mouth with his tongue out, swallowing everything, panting: "You're delicious, babe".

Matt is the kind of guy who likes to fuck dirty and knows how to be thirsty for it.

I swore every moment that he wouldn't fuck me tonight, but after cumming in his mouth and knowing how naughty he is, the urge got worse and he fucked me the way he wanted, moaning loudly that I take him well, that he would cum inside me and he didn't care at all and he did; I like how he keeps his words.

And you can bet that I really like the fact that he takes me to bed, still wet, and makes me sit on his sensitive cock with my back to him, murmuring how hot I am and pinching my nipples between his fingers. I don't bother to scream when he hits my sensitive spot. I love the way he starts to feel overwhelmed and whimpers in my ear; I aggravate my movements and grip the back of his neck tightly just to hear him closer. He cums inside me once more, both of us letting out moans from the sensitivity caused in our bodies. He masturbates my clit and I release myself too, rolling my eyes in pleasure.

The last thing I remember is being in his arms, and after that, I fall asleep.

When I wake up, I feel unimaginably tired. Matt's eyes are open, sleepy; he says, "Good morning," and for me, talking at that moment is not an option. He kisses my forehead and smiles, touching my cheek, being so gentle.

"We weren't supposed to do this," I say, my voice unrecognizable. He presses his lips together and smacks, murmuring, "I know!" I sigh, stretching. "Do you want to do it again?" he asks.

Well.

No need to ask!

I must say that Matt and I fucked hard all day, in every possible position. And a few times, he asked me which ones I had tried; he was surprised by some of them.

He kissed me tenderly at each end, assuring me that it was very good. And surprisingly, after cumming on his cock so many times like a slut, I actually washed his hair when we showered – leaving it nice and wavy.

We finished putting the puzzle together – even though we argued a lot about where the pieces should go. He also felt motivated enough to tell me that he likes me since I started to feel comfortable insulting him, but that he finds me annoying and sometimes insufferable. I told him he was an idiot and teased him: “Does this turn you on, Matt?”

“Oh my god. I’m so fucking horny.” He laughs and kisses me and I know for sure that I want his touch for the rest of my life.

The End

a/n: Yeah, I know. It doesn't have much to do with the song, but if you're really fucking horny, I wouldn't hesitate to make a one-shot with all the positions that Juno and Matt did before putting together puzzles, and, who knows, after that too.

[jackactuallywrites]

All Seeing, All Knowing, All Loving Part 8

Rating: All good, nothing horrible

Warning: Ghost’s ego is dangerously large

Summary: At long last, you put two and two together.

Word Count: 926

ao3 link

Yet again, you were woken up by someone knocking on your door.

This new trend in your life was fucking annoying; nobody in your circle ever knocked on the door anymore, only ever texted to say they were outside and waiting. Sure, anyone with a delivery would knock, but that would be at a reasonable time of the day, not past midnight.

You went to investigate, tying your dressing gown tight over your pyjamas as you tiptoed through the living room. Ghost was still out on the sofa like a light, his face hidden underneath a cushion, Soap curled up on the armrest by his head. Neither stirred as you crept past them to the door. How could anything out there possibly be more terrifying than the beast on your sofa?

Still, you kept the chain on.

You peered through the peephole before even touching the door, squinting at the person on the other side. You didn’t recognise the man. He looked like someone’s dad- a full beard and moustache, complete with a little hat. Maybe if you ignored him, he would just go away. Fat chance. You could see him raising his hand to knock again, so you reluctantly went to the door, quietly opening it and frowning through the crack,

“Can I help you?”

“Sorry to disturb you at such a late hour. You seen Ghost?”

Who the fuck was this? And how on Earth did he know Ghost was asleep on your sofa?

“Who?”

“Come on now. You know Ghost. Simon.”

“Sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong address. I don’t know a Simon.”

Why your first instinct was to lie was a mystery to you. Ever since Ghost had come into your life, it felt as though your entire being had shifted; you were wary, paranoid, and secretive. You hadn’t told a soul about Ghost, whereas before, any man that so much as text you ‘u up?’ had a full report to the group chat.

“You really gonna do this?”

“Sorry, but I can’t help you.”

Inexplicably, you’d developed some sort of sixth sense for when Ghost was behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled, and you could just feel him standing behind you. You reached behind you, grabbing onto the material of his jumper as your fingers brushed against it and attempting to pull him away from the door, out of sight of the strange man.

“Chrissake.”

So much for that. For a SAS man, he wasn’t great at being sneaky. Ghost moved you out of the way of the door, undoing the chain and opening it properly,

“S’only Price.”

You weren’t best pleased about another random man knowing where you lived, and you huffed,

“I’m sorry. Was I supposed to expect one of your lot to be at the door? It’s not like you wear badges.”

Unlike Ghost, Price didn’t seem to view everything of yours as his own, staying on the other side of the threshold, though his eyes did roam over the entranceway to your flat, gleaning whatever information he could take from it. Still, you didn’t appreciate it. Luckily for you, again, unlike Ghost, Price seemed to be able to take a hint. He looked at Ghost,

“I’ll be waiting in the car.”

When he was out of earshot, you looked over at Ghost, who was sat on your sofa putting his trainers on,

“I’m getting a little sick of soldiers showing up at my door in the middle of the night, you know.”

“Not the impression I got.”

Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline, and you rounded on him,

“I beg your absolute pardon? You wanna repeat that?”

“Still haven’t put two and two together?”

You stared at him as he got to his feet, trying to figure out what the fuck he was trying to imply.

“Take your time, love.”

Ghost was such a non-human entity in your mind that you hadn’t even conceived of a reality in which you could mistake him for a normal human man. But now, all the similarities were laid out for you to see, and now, you couldn’t fathom how you hadn’t seen it until that second.

Motherfucker.

You pressed your fingers together, then to your mouth, your thoughts reeling with both humiliation and rage. You’d hit on Ghost in a bar. More than that, you’d hit on him while not recognising him at all. And he had rejected you.

“There you go.”

“You better get out my house right now.”

“You sure that’s what you want?”

How could this cocky piece of shit be the same man that was broken just looking at Soap? He must still be drunk.

“On God, I will fucking kill you.”

“Come on, how was I supposed to give you my number if you already have it?”

You searched for anything nearby to fling at him, grabbing a little wooden statue your friend had carved and threw it at his head. Of course, he dodged.

“Gonna hurt me right after you tried to save me from Price? Please. I know your heart.”

You’d never stabbed a man before, but today seemed like it would be a good day to try. You picked up one of your stilettos from where it sat neatly on the shoe rack, advancing on Ghost with murderous intent, but he slipped past you to the door.

“Alright, alright, I’m going.” He paused at the doorway, “I’m not gonna forget about this.”

You answered by flinging your heel at him as he shut the door.

[bropunzeling]

to motivate myself to get back into working on seattle au (i wanna be DONE by SUMMER) here is a wip wednesday snippet featuring our favorite wrecking ball, brady tkachuk

As soon as their game against the Senators starts, Leon’s certain he made the right call about not going out for drinks after. For one thing, Ottawa scores three goals on them in five minutes to start everything off, which isn’t exactly something Leon appreciates. For another, Leon gets the distinct sense that Brady did not like him slashing Tim when the refs weren’t looking, which, whatever. Tim can take it, even if he did double over. He’s just being dramatic like always.

Brady’s opinion of him seems to really start going downhill during the second, though. First, Leon manages to score, bringing them within one; next, it’s Matthew’s turn, notching his second of the night and grinning obnoxiously at the Senators’ bench as they circle around for their fist taps. Once the game gets tied up, the stupid penalties start coming—tripping on Carson, then matching cross checks for Joseph and Big Rig. Despite all that time on their admittedly shitty PK, Matthew seems to only be getting more amped, bouncing next to Leon whenever they’re not skating, barely able to keep his ass on the bench as he yaps in Brady’s general direction. Brady, however, looks steamed, red-faced as he yells back at Matthew. By their last shift of the period, Leon has the same distinct sense of looming danger as a scientist handling nitroglycerine in an earthquake. It’s only a matter of time before something blows up.

Except it’s not another goal or Matthew saying something that finally sets Brady off. No, it’s Leon, chasing after the puck in the corner, only mostly looking where he’s going and managing to knock Tim on his ass. Again.

The whistle goes. Leon groans. “Fucking Christ, Tim,” he mumbles, “stay on your goddamn feet.”

That earns him a hearty fuck you back as Tim gets to his hands and knees, but it doesn’t register nearly as much as the fist suddenly in Leon’s jersey, yanking him off-balance. “I swear to god, Draisaitl,” Brady hisses, even as the refs are trying to get between them, “if you keep targeting Tim—”

“I’m not targeting anyone,” Leon protests, trying to twist around so he can shove Brady off. “Get the fuck off me—”

“What’s going on?” Jesus, now Matthew’s here too, trying to wrestle his way into the scrum. Surely that will help. “Hey, let go of Drai—”

“Matty, I swear to god, if you can’t rein your boy in I’m gonna do it for him,” Brady hollers, still trying to haul Leon in by the neck of his jersey no matter how hard Leon tries to wrench himself around and whack at Brady’s shins. “I don’t care how much you like him—”

“Lay off,” Matthew shouts back, “Tim’s a fucking diver and you fucking know it—”

“I’m fucking warning you,” Brady says as the linesmen finally break them apart, Giroux tugging Brady back while Matthew clamps a hand on Leon’s shoulder and Lars comes in to put another body between them. “Fuck around with my guys one more time and I’m dropping the gloves.”

“Is he really gonna fight me?” Leon asks when at last the period ends and they shuffle down the tunnel to the locker room.

“Nah, he won’t,” Matthew says, in a not entirely reassuring tone. “He’s just pissed that we tied ‘em up.”

“Wait, who’s fighting?” Yanni asks as they peel off to find their stalls. “Drai, are you fighting?”

“No,” Leon says flatly.

“Sounds like Tkachuk wants to,” Adam adds in his most unhelpful tone.

“Shit, dude, the fuck did you do to tick him off?” Borgy asks. He sounds way too delighted at the prospect of Leon getting his nose broken. “Piss in his coffee? Sleep with his girlfriend?”

Leon glares at him, then grabs a water bottle full of sports drink and chugs some. “Fuck off,” he says after wiping off his mouth. “I didn’t do shit.”

“I mean, I’ll fight him if you want,” Will says. “Chucky, tell your brother I can fight him.”

“Boys, let’s talk about how we’re gonna win this fucking game,” Coach says, and thankfully all discussion of fighting Brady gets tabled.

[existentialarachnid]

She master on my computer till I AM

probably still a WIP, not entirely sure what i wanna do next with it.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Tag Team (Deadpool/Wolverine)

Description: Wade is distracted during a mission so afterwards all 3 of them fuck in the Honda.

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,773k

Request:

IM OBSESSED WITH WADE AND LOGAN AS A TEAM... May I request a smut where both of them fuck fem!Reader?

Idk reader could also be a hero and it happens during a mission, I trust your writing!!!

Wade had been distracted the entire mission. It was to the point that Logan was getting annoyed with him even more than usual. Y/N had no clue what they were fighting about but was also annoyed with both of them. “Can you guys shut the fuck up?” She growled at them. They both stopped arguing and looked at her, “Can you stop being so hot?” Wade asked. She rolled her eyes and put her finger to her mouth to shush him. “Yes mommy.” Logan looked at him with disgust.

Wade was a kinky son of a bitch but Logan never got used to it. They were trying to kill bad guys but Wade was about to ruin it. Y/N had been so into the mission she had failed to see both of them checking her out. She did have blood all over her but what was new? Wade and Logan both had it bad for the girl but Y/N was oblivious. Before Wade could say anything else the bad guys appeared and they had to kill.

Y/N shot at them, never missing. Logan clawed them up and managed to get more blood on them than before. Wade? Well he was still distracted and barely did anything, “WHAT THE FUCK, WADE?” Y/N yelled at him. She pulled him right out of his dirty thoughts. “Y/N and I just did all the work.” Logan added. “Well my bad that I can’t stop thinking about taking you both to a whole new world of pleasure.” Y/N stared at him with a blank look.

She was really tired of him acting like this, especially on a mission. “Well next time don’t come.” She said and walked away from him. Logan followed but not before growling at him. “Oh come on! You guys act like this isn’t hot as fuck.” He whined, catching up to them. “What’s hot about killing people, Wade?” “EVERYTHING!!” Y/N sighed and stopped walking. “Wade, I’m very flattered but now is not the time.” She said to him. “Wait so there’s a time?” He asked. She sighed and started walking again. 

The Honda Odyssey was the only “bed” that they had which sucked ass but it had to work. They all reeked of blood and guts but Wade couldn’t stop thinking about fucking Y/N in it. “So about earlier, is now the time?” He asked. Logan rolled his eyes and Y/N sighed. She sat up in the backseat and stared at him.

He was still wearing his mask and Logan took his off. “Wade, don’t you wanna fuck in a bed?” She asked, looking around the car. “Honey, I would fuck you in a volcano.” Yeah cuz that was a turn on. She looked at Logan, “What about you?” She asked him. He opened his eyes to look at her, “I wouldn’t fuck you in a volcano but this is all we have.” She laughed at his words and put her weapons on the floor.

“Alright guys. Let’s have some fun.” Wade was out of the car and to the backseat before she could finish her sentence. Logan got on the other side of her and she looked between them, “I’m not sure how this will wo-” Both of them attached their mouths to her neck. She gasped at the sudden action of them and she never noticed that Wade lifted his mask. Their lips moved sloppily on her neck, leaving marks. She gripped both of their necks and pulled them closer. They both placed a hand on her upper thigh and she leaned back against the seat, taking them with her.

Her eyes were closed as they marked her neck until she had purple spots. Logan moved down to her cleavage and Wade’s hand brushed against her pussy. She gasped at the feeling of both of them. Logan kissed and sucked the top of boob while Wade managed to get his fingers in her body suit to her bare pussy, “Holy shit.” She breathed out and he chuckled. “Ya like that princess?” Wade asked as his fingers rubbed her clit.

She was soaked and had been for a few hours now. Logan moved from her tit to the floor and spread her legs. “Move your fingers you Merc.” Logan said to Wade. Wade whined but did anyway so Logan could feast on her pussy. “Take this off.” He demanded her. She undid her body suit and Logan helped her get it off until she was fully naked in nothing but gloves and her boots. Logan chuckled as he looked at her wet pussy.

He sniffed her and sighed, “Fuck darling you smell delicious.” He told her and licked up her clit. She threw her head back and moaned. Wade watched as Logan ate her out and got even harder. He looked at Y/N who had her eyes closed and her breathing was harder. He leaned back too and turned her head towards him and kissed her. She weakly kissed back and moaned into his mouth. Logan was eating her out like an animal eating its first meal.

It was everything. Her hands gripped his hair making him moan into her pussy. The vibration made her whine and Wade stuck his tongue in her mouth. She let his tongue explore her mouth and Logan’s explored her pussy. Her hips bucked into his mouth and she shuddered at how close she was, “I’m gonna cum!” She whined into the kiss. “Cum on his beautiful face.” Wade told her and that did it. She fucked her hips up into his face and came all over. Wade praised her as she rode her sweet orgasm.

Logan flattened his tongue as she did all the work until the pleasure was gone. He pulled away from her pussy and smirked at her. She loved the sight of him covered in her cum. Wade did as well, “Damn wish that was me.” Logan got back onto the seat next to her and kissed her, giving her a taste. She moaned into his mouth. “Fuck that’s so hot.” Wade said. Y/N pulled away from the kiss and moved to kiss Wade giving him a taste as well. While they were kissing she took his mask off and threw it on the ground. Wade was never insecure around them.

They made him feel loved. She broke the kiss and moved in between his legs. He looked down in shock as she pulled out his dick. “Kiss.” She told them and without protest they did. She smirked as she watched for a second before running her pretty fingers over Wade’s cock. He gasped into the kiss. She wrapped her hand around him and jerked him off a few times before taking him into her mouth. Her mouth was the best thing to fuck.

It was wet and warm and felt so good. She placed her hands on his thighs and gave him the best blow job of his life. Wade was the loudest one out of the three of them. He fucked up into her mouth as the car rocked. The windows steamed up as they kissed and she gave him the best blow job ever. “Fuck. Your mouth is amazing, baby.” He moaned.

Logan watched as his dick went in and out of her mouth. Sure her mouth was good but her pussy was even better. Logan and Wade stopped kissing once Wade got really close. He threw his head back and cried out as he came in her throat. She pulled off of him and pulled Logan down for a kiss. She let Wade’s cum travel into Logan’s mouth and he swallowed. Wade gasped as he had never seen anything like that before.

Y/N smirked at him and got back in between them. “So I want all or nothing. You both have to be inside of me at the same time.” She says and they both nod before getting naked. She got on the center console of the car and they both managed to get their dicks in her at the same time. Their car was small but it managed to work. Y/N gasped at both of them penetrating her at the same time. Logan tried to let her adjust to the size but Wade didn’t care and started thrusting.

Her moans were loud inside the car and it felt very hot. Her jaw was dropped and her bloody hair was wet with sweat as well. Wade laid his head on the head of the carseat and groaned out. Logan who had more stanamia than both of them was fucking her fast and hard. Wade tried to keep up but it felt better this way.

“Shit you both are so fucking good.” She whined as one dick would hit her spot and then the other would right after. “You’re one to talk princess, your pussy is so perfect.” Wade groaned. Her moans turned to screams as she started thrusting back on them. The perfect rhythm began and all 3 of them were making loud noises. The heat of the car made things more intense.

Logan’s hand that was gripping one side of her hip was squeezing to the point of bruises. Y/N wished more than anything that she could see how fucked out they both looked but that was the con with doggy style. Especially in a small car. Wade groaned as he felt her pussy squeeze them, “Fuck princess, I’m about to cum.” He announced.

Y/N smirked before moaning as she squeezed them tighter cuz a loud moan to release from Logan. He barely moaned but when he did it was amazing and hot. “Fuck sweetheart, If you do that again I’m gonna cum too.” “That’s the plan.” She whimpered and squeezed them. “Where do ya want it, pretty girl?” “Inside of me. Both of you.” She cried as she too felt closer to the edge.

Wade groaned loudly as he came hard inside of her pretty pussy. Logan was a few seconds later and stilled behind her as he came. Y/N helped them ride it out as she came next screaming their names. The car smelled of sweat and sex as they both pulled out of her. Wade collapsed back against the seat and sighed, “Man I do love a good tag team after a crazy mission.” He said. Logan glared at him, “You didn’t even help.” Y/N turned around to look at the two. “Boys don’t start.” She warned and got in the middle of them. “Maybe if you guys are good we can go for round 2.” She smirked and brought them both in for a kiss.

[reignpage]

Sweet Revenge

Summary: you get revenge on your cheating husband with Toji who isn't going to let the opportunity pass Word Count: quick read with 720 words Warnings: porn with little plot, unprotected sex, revenge sex, infidelity, cream pie, exhibitionism, single dad!toji, rough, manhandling, dirty talk, praise

Your husband is a cheating, lying bastard. He sucks. He’s ugly and fat and lazy and you hate him. For years, you had put up with the changes in him: he stopped showering frequently, no longer said please and thank you, didn’t ever bother taking you on a date. All of that you could take, even when you haven’t had an orgasm from him for years. 

But the cheating on you…with your own sister!

That demands revenge.

That’s where Single dad!Toji comes in. 

He’s your sister’s crush, the one she loves to see at the kindergarten when she picks up her son. She gushes over him all the time. Talking about how muscular he is, those damn biceps and that godforsaken smirk, the one that makes his scar stretch delectably. 

You always shrugged her off. 

But, well, she's right. 

Single dad!Toji wastes no time in wrangling you against the wall, shoving his huge hand inside your leggings, straight into your panties as he rubs at your clit. Meanwhile, he’s swallowing every whine and moan with a sloppy kiss, gripping your throat with his other hand, making sure you’re pinned to the wall. God, his hands are calloused as fuck but it just makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Finally thought I’m good enough to give a go?” He snarks. “Been eyeing you all year when you pick up your nephew, y’know?”

Single dad!Toji makes you cum on his fingers, curling three fingers inside to press incessantly at your g-spot whilst he thumbs at your little bud. He snorts when you claw at his chest, screaming about how you need more. So with a quick peck to your lips, he shoves your leggings and panties all the way down and spin you around. Your face is squished against the wall and a cool breeze is blowing all over your sloppy pussy. 

“Toji! Fuck, I need you inside! Wanna cum on your cock, pleasepleaseplease,” you squeal when you feel him slide his cock between your legs, coating his long, thick length with your overflowing juices. 

“Yeah, yeah. Relax ma, I’ll fuck ya so good you’ll forget all about your shitty husband.” 

And God, does he?! He shoves his entire length at once, his heavy balls slapping your clit with every thrust, wringing moans and groans out of you. He’s kissing your cervix, branding bruises on your hips and biting your neck. Seriously, his dick game is fucking crazy, stretching you out like you never have been in your entire life. You forget all about your stupid husband and your stupid sister. 

“Yes! Right there! Right there, oh god, Toji! Fuuuuckkk,” you scream. Your voice is growing hoarse and when he pulls your hair to shove his tongue down your throat, you lose your sanity. Everything about him is so big and hard and strong. And whilst he sucks on your bottom lip, he kneads your tits. “God, I fucking love you.”

Single dad!Toji laughs, punctuating his mocking words with deep thrusts. “Ha! Dick so good you fell in love? Marry me then, ma”

“WHAT?!” You screech when he starts pinching your clit, pummelling your pussy with his throbbing cock. “Marriage? Are you crazy?”

Single dad!Toji makes you cum. Your orgasm hits you like a truck. And his soon follows, powerful spurts painting your walls white with hot cum, and you know for a fact the fucking guy has strong swimmers. 

“You’re gonna get me pregnant!”

He chortles, “Then you’ll have to marry me, fucking perfect.”

Single dad!Toji is still thrusting his softening cock inside of you, milking himself for everything he’s worth, really digging his cum inside to make sure it takes. And he’s still groping your tits. “Gonna love drinking from these when they’re all swollen up.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Both of you turn to look at the door. Your sister and your husband are gaping at you. She drops her groceries, oranges rolling on the floor.

Single dad!Toji smirks against your head before pressing a smooch there. Then he spins you around again, this time so he can bend you over to show them the cum leaking from your fluttering pussy. 

“Welcome home, losers. You get to see your nephew’s conception, congrats. We’re expecting a sizeable gift at the baby shower, yeah?”

What the hell, sure.

[lizardho]

I came out to my dad as bisexual at 14 and I was PANICKED because I had a crush on a guy in my Boy Scout troop and thought I was Going To Hell Forever and he was so kind and understanding of my distress, but he had NO idea what bisexuality was. He just said “yeah but you like girls too? This is normal. Everyone is like this.” And I love my dad and trust him with my life to this day and the idea that the concept of bisexuality had not occurred to him had not occurred to me so I put it off.

By 16 though I had a crush on like THREE boys. Three entire boys in my Boy Scout troop. I felt like my sin was slowly advancing, until like an untreated cancer it had become metastatic. I remember bawling my L’il limp-wristed sissy eyes out in his big rumbly truck on the way home from a scout meeting and him telling me that it was OK, that he still loved me if I was gay, but that he knew I wasn’t gay because I still had crushes on women and that meant I was straight. I didn’t quite know how to explain that those felt *~*different*~* and that I felt like I was losing a fight to evil inside me but I again felt comforted by his reassurances and his genuine fatherly love.

At 18 I was like “hey I’m realizing all my friends are going on missions. I don’t wanna do that. Idk how to say that and I don’t have a ‘good enough’ reason to not wanna go.” So I just put it off. Again, my parents were extremely supportive of the information I gave them (I blamed it on perpetually forgetting to start the paperwork.) and one day my mom texted me that she had done the paperwork for me! And that all I needed was to get a physical! So I did that (it was awkward af tbh, my hernia check was done by a trainee doctor and she spent like 3 minutes fishing around my inguinal canals before her attending rescued me) and was sent to Mexico City where I learned that in addition to dipshit himbos with strong hands and scruffy guys with artistic hearts I was REALLY into chubby Latin men with strong personalities who bullied me a little when I lived in Mexico.

I remember my first companion got annoyed with me during an argument and said we were just gonna wrestle and whoever won the wrestling match won the argument (I stg I am dead serious this happened.) I was like…SWEATING when he tore off his tie and threw his white button-down shirt onto the ground (I won btw, don’t ask me how).

I remember one of my companions with this really intense, almost manic energy telling me that he was gonna make sure I was safe in a new area I didn’t know very well. He cooked breakfast for me and we’d go shopping together on P-Days and in the mornings before breakfast he’d jog around and do pull-ups with his shirt off and I’d do anything but look at him because my face would break out in a sweat so intense he’d think I was crying and come over to see if I was OK and somehow make it worse. He let me play D&D with myself in the evenings even though it was against mission rules because he knew how lonely and stressed I was.

I remember one of my companions was a big chubby man with a loud voice and a great sense of humor. He was kind and direct when addressing conflicts with me, and always bragged about how he knew the secrets of women’s minds and it felt like he really did since it almost always boiled down to “Treat Them Like People and Love Them a Lot. Don’t Stop Being A Person For Them. Also Eat Them Out Sloppy Style.” Our P-Day activities sometimes felt like dates, and it seemed like he was more attentive to my emotional state than I was since he was always the first to suggest we slow down our Divinely Mandated, God-Ordained, Super Sacred Work and Wonder to get a snack or check out a Pawn Shop (I love Pawn Shops).

I remember another companion who asked me to bully him every time he did something against his goal of losing weight. It was like he gave me Carte Blanche to take out my crush on him by being a nuisance and I LOVED that. I remember having a breakdown one day after we’d spent the afternoon frantically cleaning our disgusting-barely-habitable mission house to make it look less vile that it was (not our fault imo?) and I started bawling and he pulled me into a hug and he smelled good and he told me he knew it wasn’t just the house and that I was mad at him for being a Huge Dickhead for about a week (true) and that he would work on it. (He’s also a huge chaser but that’s a separate thing.)

I remember one of my companions waking up early (and our schedule is already built for sleep deprivation) to make me a “birthday cake” from knock-off Nutella and bread. He used matches for candles and woke me up, lit the ‘candles,’ pulled them out, then smashed it in my face and took a bunch of pictures while I was still madrugada and disoriented as fuck. He had the same sense of humor as one of my HS crushes and I could push his buttons pretty easily which was so fun.

I came home from my mission and started back at BYU where I became actively and aggressively suicidal. I had a stalker the year I moved up there and my dad’s solution to that was to get me a gun. I know he wouldn’t have bought me a gun if he could have read my mind, but I had a loaded pistol under my bed during a trifecta faith/sexuality/gender crisis and that was not helpful. I remember that the day I decided to kill myself I figured I’d call the BYU CAPS and see if I could get into therapy because it felt like what I was “supposed to do” so I could check my suicide boxes. My therapist was the guy who’d helped me pick a major the year before and was this drop-dead gorgeous Hawaiian man who cried when I told him how I’d been feeling.

A few weeks into therapy I met another stunning man with soft eyes and a scruffy illegal-at-BYU beard he kept pushing his luck with. He was funny, kind, patient, married, and wouldn’t give me the time of day if he knew I was crushing on him. We were in my history of psych class, which was inarguably the worst psych class I have ever had, and we studied together for every assignment and test and I realized that my feelings for him and for all the men I’d already mentioned were in direct conflict with my faith and relationship with God. My already agonizing spiritual conflict became even more wretched and as a result of this plus some other tightly-packed experiences with Mormonisms bullshit, I left the church.

After leaving the church I decided to move back to AZ and transfer to ASU. My mom helped me get a dog since I think it had started to dawn on my family that my mental health was barely getting me through the day, and she knew that we both loved dogs. Madi made my last year at BYU livable while I got my shit together and transferred. In that last year, I went on a date with quite possibly the only semi-openly-out trans person on BYU campus. It was not a great date imo, I was not doing well, but the person I spoke with was fun and fascinating and talked to me about Gender Dysphoria and it really cemented my need to go. To leave and never come back to that fucking school.

I started at ASU a month after my last semester at BYU and within a very short time frame it felt like I was coming back together, like a puzzle magically putting itself together in an environment that wasn’t slowly draining that puzzle’s will to live.

On the 4th of July, the year I started at ASU, I saw a transition timeline photo of a gorgeous happy beautiful happy radiant happy woman and her former Mormon missionary self and I realized the light that was on in her eyes was the light that was off in mine. I looked into transitioning for 3 days, sleeping about 10 hours total during that time. I started talking to other trans people on Reddit (one of whom is now my beautiful fiancée @cintailed) and after about a month of making preparations to be disowned and kicked out, something I was not sure would happen but was ready to go through to Turn On The Lights, I came out to my family and it was amazing. I started HRT a month after that. I secretly dated some dorky guys for about a year while I applied to grad schools. I got into a great grad school for me and my needs. I got FFS. I did my trainings and classes. Me and my fiancée moved in together after some LDR shenanigans. We’ve lived together now for 4 years of basically marital bliss. We have a cat named Grandmother Esmeralda Weatherwax who bites the hell out of my feet about three times a day. My bi-cycle continues to be part of my life but now it’s not as scary. Baby gays in my life have started to look to me for advice. Idk how this all happened so fast. When the years, months, weeks, days, and hours seems to crawl by so slowly now they are rushing past me so fast it’s almost bewildering. Whereas before I felt like I was living on borrowed time, past my ‘expiration date,’ now it feels like I can Fucking Breathe. I’m training myself to slow down now and it feels worth it to Live In The Moment.

Idk why I wrote this. Idk why these thoughts only seem to come up on Sundays when I’m supposed to be writing my dissertation. Idk why I’m crying rn or why I feel so happy. I’m gonna post this shit then get on with my dissertation I guess. Read more Terry Pratchett and give yourselves the time you need. Get a pet. Talk to someone. Re-examine the events that brought you here. Be gayer. Love y’all 💕

[stxrslutrestored]

SILENT TREATMENT

pairing; rafe cameron x sweetie reader

summary; even after your little confrontation, rafe continues to neglect you, so when he tries to give you his affections, you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, little do you know how well that may end for you

content; body worship, oral (f receiving)

authors note; re upload! part 2 of waiting for you

last night was good, you wake up feeling relieved, happy to have finally resolved your issue with rafe. you can’t wait to spend time with him today. you roll over when you feel him stir, a smile pasted on your lips, “mornin’ rafe,” you grin, hand coming up to caress his sleepy face. he looks so pretty in the mornings. 

a little smile creeps onto his lips as well, his eyes peel open and he meets your loving gaze, “hi sweetheart.” 

you move to cuddle closer to him, but to your surprise he sits up. you sit up too, but don’t follow him as he gets out of bed and grabs his clothes. 

you tilt your head in slight confusion, but you keep smiling, “where you goin’? we only just woke up.” you’re dreading the next sentence to come out of his mouth. 

he nods absently, “yeah uh.. I just—” he points to the door over his shoulder, “got some work to do.” his voice trails off, and before you know it, he’s walking out the door. 

son of a bitch. 

you sit there for a few minutes in the company of your own silence. you can’t believe it. you’d had a whole fight last night, he’d acknowledged that he was prioritising work too much, and now, at seven in the morning, with no deadline, he’s gone back to it. without paying you a single glance at that. 

you get over it, sure, you are totally over it. you spend the day with yourself, but you can’t help but be peeved the entire time. in the evening you make yourself a meal, only yourself, one portion. rafe is nowhere to be seen, so why should you cook for him?

when he comes downstairs you are on the couch watching the tv with your meal in a tray on your lap. he walks over to the kitchen where the empty pot lies still on the stove. upon opening the lid of the pot and finding nothing his face falls, “you didn’t cook for both of us?” he asks, brows furrowed as he speaks to the back of your head. 

“I didn’t know you wanted food.” you say, “been workin’ all day, didn’t even know if you were gonna come down.” you take another mouthful of your meal.

“what am I supposed to eat?” his face contorts in slight frustration. he looks like a kicked puppy. he hadn’t had to actually think about what to get for dinner for ages, you’d always taken care of it.

“I don’t know,” you put a sickly sweet twinge in your voice, “you could get takeout… or cook. do you know how to do that?” you know it’s a bit of a mean comment but god dammit you’re hurt. he’s hurt you and you will hurt him back until he realises how shitty he’s treated you. 

it continues all week. the snarky comments and disregards of each other. rafe keeps to his work and you keep to yourself. 

you both ignore it with great passion. neither of you caring to acknowledge all the feelings, knowing that when you do, it will be a turmoil that you just don’t want to face.

of course it has to happen, and in a turn of unexpected events, it’s rafe who initiates the conversation. 

you’re just getting into your night clothes when he enters the room, speaking your name. he leans against the doorframe to talk to you. “you look nice.” he says bluntly. 

you smile, but you don’t look up at him, “thankyou.” you slip your nightdress on and then stand to walk over to bed. 

he sighs and meets you before you can sit down, “uhm.. d’you wanna.. maybe do something..” he asks, it’s awkward, he barely ever has to ask, normally it just happens. his hand rests on your hip. 

you shrug, “I don’t know.. I’m pretty tired actually.” you tell him, looking up at him, and yet it’s not an intimate eye contact like it should be right before you climb into bed with him.

“come on.” he murmurs, “let’s just.. be together y’know.” he smirks tentatively, rubbing your hip now, but you don’t return his energy. 

“no. I think I’d rather just go to sleep. you can lie with me if you want.” you make to move past him but he stops you, holding you back. 

“no.” he raises his voice slightly but quickly corrects his tone. “no— no you’re- you’re ignorin’ me.” he pulls you in front of him, his head cranes down just a little bit to keep your gaze. “I know why. okay— I get it but— I- I can’t make it up to you if you don’t let me.” 

you shake your head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about rafe,” you speak so matter of factly, “I just wanna go to sleep right now.” 

“no. no.” he pushes you back, “let— lemme make it up to you.” he speaks, frowning in upset, “I can show you I- let me show you that I’m sorry okay.” 

you furrow your eyebrows, it’s not like rafe to speak like this, he’s never sorry for anything he does, he believes every action he takes has a purpose and that nobody has a right to complain about them. rafe saying sorry is basically him admitting he’s completely and utterly pussy whipped. 

you stay sceptical though, “mhm. what are you gonna do to show me rafe? fuck me? again? for the one hundredth something time in our relationship?” you raise an eyebrow.

rafe stutters, thoughts faltering as you call out the plan he thought to be impeccable. “I’m- I’m not just gonna fuck you.. okay I- I-”

“you’re what? gonna make love to me? touch my innocence? be intimate—” the agitation in your voice starts to come through, you do just want to get into bed. 

his hands come to your shoulders, but the touch is gentle, not firm or commanding like it normally is. he hesitates for a moment and then makes a decisive noise. suddenly he’s lowering all the way to his knees, hands still firm on your shoulders.

“I- I love you okay.” he looks up to you, blinking away the tears forming in his eyes. his hands pull at your nightdress, tugging it off and discarding it to the floor. his hands run down your body. 

“love this body,” he says, “love you. love you so much.” he kisses your lower tummy, maybe in an effort to hide his now falling tears. you didn’t think your silent treatment would provoke such an emotional reaction from him.

“rafe…” you frown, hand coming to the back of his head as he looks right back up to you. you think about telling him to leave it because you feel bad, but then you realise that this despair in him could get you something good, and so you decide to be selfish. “show me.” you tell him, “show me how much you love me.”

rafe’s head lowers and he begins to move down your body. he starts to place wet open mouthed kisses on every spot that his face passes and his hands follow after. he works his way all the way down until he’s kissing just above your pussy. 

“god.” he exhales, “gonna— gonna show you okay.” his hands come up to support your hips as he brings his face down again and his open mouth comes into contact with your most sensitive spot. 

you seethe a breath, legs weakening from the contact but his grip on you is strong and he keeps you upright as he begins to move his mouth. 

he kisses and sucks with ease, tongue swirling around your clit. you have to hold back surprise at the fact he’s so good at this, you’re not sure he’s ever eaten you out before. 

he lets out little murmurs and breaths that seem to send vibrations through your entire body. you have to throw your head back in pleasure, you feel so good.

rafe comes back for a breath, pulling away with a pop. his lips and chin are glistening with your wetness, he looks up to you with wide eyes and swollen lips. 

“do you believe me.” he asks breathlessly, he looks so desperate. so desperate. you take sympathy on him, his hurt puppy look, those wide sad eyes.

you nod, “I believe you. I know you love me.” you smile down at him. he lets out a breath of relief, a smile forming on his own shiny lips. 

he keeps your gaze for a moment and then he goes back down, now with a newfound energy that just makes it so much better. with his face still buried in your pussy he makes to turn you around so that you can fall back onto the bed. you realise now, that you are in for a good night.

[cherrygirlfriend]

against the mirror

pairing: rafe cameron x bsf!reader

genre: smutsmutsmut, minors DNI!!! bathroom sex, PIV, cheating (rafe has a gf), mirror sex, unprotected sex

synopsis: having fun with your best friend at a party bathroom

word count: 3.5k ...

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩

You stood outside on the balcony, observing the moon that was perched on the dark sky, for once void of clouds so you could actually see it along with the stars surrounding it, your lips wrapped around a joint as you traced the constellations you could make out with your pointer finger, one of your eyes closed in concentration.

The door to the balcony opened, and you could hear the hustle and bustle from the party, loud music and shrieks of excitement drifting onto the balcony before they were muted once the door was closed once again, and you could tell who was at the door without even turning to look at him.

Rafe took the joint from your lips, a faint lipstick mark from where your lips had just been, and he brought it to his own lips, taking a slow, deep drag of the joint before taking hold of your chin, making you turn your head to him, your focus strictly on the joint now on his lips.

"It's not polite to steal." You say quietly, a grin spreading onto Rafe's lips as he finishes the joint, before putting it out and leaving it on the ash tray, the lazy grin still on his lips as he looks at you up and down. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." He shrugged, but you've known him long enough to know that in Rafe's language, 'nothing' meant 'everything.'

"So, did your little girlfriend finally let you off her leash?"

"Sofia? She doesn't have me on a leash. Stop being dramatic."

"Mmhm, sure." You chuckled softly, lifting your brows, a challenging glint in your eyes as you bit down on your lip, Rafe's gaze quickly flicking down to your lips before he cleared his throat and looked away, taking a swig of his beer. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"I dunno. You looked bored. Can't I wanna spend time with you without you getting all interrogate-y? It's annoying as hell." Rafe scoffed, and a part of you enjoyed the fact that you were getting under his skin, a soft chuckle leaving your lips. "What are you laughing at?"

"You're cute when you get mad."

"You're drunk."

"Only a little bit." You grinned, "But not too drunk to not notice the fact that you were looking at my tits earlier."

He nearly choked on his beer from your comment, clearing his throat to try and cover it up, a flush of pink crawling up the back of his neck. "I was just observing. Come on, in that tiny dress you're wearing, can you even blame me?"

"Mmhm." You hum, and Rafe could tell that you didn't believe him, and he's not doing a good job at hiding the fact that he was absolutely not just "observing", and he was now starting to believe that you were more sober than he previously believed, judging by the smartass attitude you were sporting.

"Since when did you get so mouthy?" He said, leaning his back on the wall of the balcony, the beer lazily hanging on his hand as he tried to sound nonchalant and unaffected by the fact that he was basically just openly admiring a large part of your chest for a good few minutes, his eyes still occasionally going to your chest when he couldn't resist the urge to look.

"Since when did you start checking me out?" You lifted your brows, taking a sip out of your solo cup. A part of your brain was telling you that this little game was a bad idea, but another part of you didn't really care.

Rafe gives you a defeated huff in response, setting his beer bottle down and bringing his hand up to rub his face. You'd always been quick-witted, and it was so incredibly unfair. His eyes dart over to you again, his shoulders sagging a bit as he finally gives in. "Okay, fine, I was looking."

"Knew it." You chuckled, and he rolled his eyes, annoyed over how much enjoyment you were getting from the entire situation, his reaction only causing you to laugh even more, causing Rafe to get even more irritated, even though he'd never actually get annoyed with you, it all simply made him think of all the ways he'd love to shut you up.

Finally, he decides that he's had enough of you teasing him and bruising his ego, and so he decides to do the most logical and mature thing that came to his mind, and attempt to get back at you. Rafe lifts his arm up and slides his arm around your waist, pulling your back against his chest, a sly grin on his face.

You're surprised by the sudden movement, your eyes widening as you feel your heart start beating faster in your chest, but before you could protest, he has you effectively trapped. His arm is wrapped around you, his hand resting on your hip as you were flush against his chest, his hot breath close to your ear. "Maybe I was looking, what about it?" He says in a low, teasing tone, causing shivers to run down your spine.

"Rafe..." You breathe out quietly, making him smirk as he hears you say his name, the sound of it sending excitement throughout his body. Rafe gives you a gentle squeeze, resting his other hand on your thigh, his fingers idly tracing the exposed skin there as he starts lifting the hem of your dress. "Yes?" He says, feigning innocence, even though it was obvious that he was purposely trying to get a rise out of you.

"Your girlfriend is inside."

"She won't mind..." Rafe mutters, dismissing your concern, his hand still tracing over your thigh, lifting your hem even further. He's well aware that he's being completely inappropriate and disrespectful towards Sofia, but for once, he can't bring himself to care.

"Oh, she definitely would."

He simply rolled his eyes, even though he knows you have a point. He doesn't make a habit of being unfaithful, even if it's something simple like this, but something about you, something about that moment, whether it be your cherry-scented skin, the alcohol, or the weed, something is making him want to go against all of that. "You're a pain in my ass, you know that?"

You simply chuckled, shaking your head. "And you, or a part of you, is poking at my ass."

His breath hitched when he heard you say that, now becoming aware of the tent in his pants as you pressed your ass closer to his erection, a groan leaving his lips, shutting his eyes for a second, just trying to keep his cool. "You're like a little devil on my shoulder..." He muttered, his fingers slowly trailing to the inside of your thigh. Rafe couldn't help but be curious over how far you'd let it go, and the fact that you hadn't protested or told him to stop yet was just making him more and more eager to push it, the erection in his pants straining his boxers more and more.

"Your girlfriend is still inside, you know." You said quietly, your breath hitching as you felt his hand slowly traveling towards where you wanted him the most, and a part of you was embarrassed over the fact that he'd soon know just how wet you were already when he hadn't even touched you.

"I'm aware." Rafe mumbled, his hand giving your thigh another firm squeeze, his fingers slowly approaching the edge of your panties. He gives your shoulder a small bite, causing you to gasp and throw your head back, his lips brushing against his ear. "Why haven't you told me to stop, then?"

"Maybe I'm trying to see how long it takes for you to come back to your senses, Rafe..."

He huffs, a small scoff leaving his mouth. He knows you're trying to make him see reason, but the more you're pressed against him, your ass practically on his lap, the more common sense is leaving him. "You're the only person to ever drive me this crazy, you know that?"

"I'm sure your girlfriend wouldn't appreciate hearing that..."

"She definitely wouldn't..." He mumbled, his hand sliding closer to your core, rubbing the skin of your thigh softly as you let out a low breath, enjoying the way his long fingers felt on the skin of your thigh. You're so close, he can smell the vanilla shampoo in your hair, and the cherry-scented perfume you always wear, your scent driving him absolutely insane. "I don't care. I don't care about anything right now, Except you."

Rafe knows he's not making any sense, and he knows you've got some kind of power over him, because he's seriously contemplating just saying to hell with everything else. "You're making a mistake..." You breathe out slowly, but not making a single move to try and get away from him, enjoying the feel of his muscular body around you.

"I know. I know I'm making a mistake. But you're making me crazy, and I can't think straight around you, and I need you."

"You're gonna regret it, Rafe..."

He groans against your skin, his arms wrapping around you tighter, his body acting completely on instinct right now. He knows you're right, he knows he's going to regret this once he comes back to his senses, but he can't bring himself to care right now. He just needs you right now- consequences be damned. His lips and teeth continue to work on the sensitive skin of your neck, marking you with his lips and teeth, wanting so badly to just lift you up and take you in. "I need you..."

"Rafe, where would we even..."

He lets out a low growl, a sting of arousal and lust shooting through his body, his brain struggling to think of a space without anyone around. "Closet, bathroom, somewhere, I don't care, I just need to be in you before I lose my mind."

"Alright, bathroom..."

And before you could even register what was going on, Rafe had roughly pulled you into a bathroom, quickly locking the door behind you, his hands all over your body, groping and gripping at any flesh his hands could find. He pushed you against the sink, lifting you up to sit on it.

"We gotta be quiet... and quick..."

"Don't have to tell me twice..." He muttered, one hand already slipping under the hem of your dress, and when you felt his hand start rubbing circles on your clit through your panties, you let out a whimper, so glad to finally feel some kind of friction, and he chuckled, that familiar grin on his face. "God, you're so soaked I can feel it through your panties... You're more desperate than you seem..."

"Rafe..." You bite down on your lip, watching as he unbuckled his belt, letting his pants fall down to the floor before he pulled you down from the sink, pressing his lips on yours, his hand in your hair as his tongue slips in your mouth, tasting you, his hands gripping your hair desperately while his body pressed against yours in a possessive manner, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands roaming over your curves before he pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your mouths.

He turned you around, his hands gripping your hips as you faced the mirror. "Bend over..." Rafe said in a commanding tone, causing shivers to run down your spine as you bent over the sink, seeing both of you in the mirror, Rafe looking over your body appreciatively as he lifted up the hem of your dress to rest above your ass, his hand traveling down to rest on your ass cheek, cupping it before delivering a sharp smack onto it, causing a squeal to leave your lips as he chuckled, bending to whisper into your ear. "Gotta be quiet, princess."

Rafe pulled back, slowly bringing your panties down your legs before standing back up, pressing so close to you that you could feel his erection through his boxers, one of his hands going down to your pussy, spreading your folds apart in a way that caused you to gasp before ending up on your wetness-covered clit, slowly rubbing circles on it.

You closed your eyes as you bit down on your lip, holding onto the sink, but when Rafe's hand stopped their ministrations, it caused a quiet whine to leave your lips. "Why'd you stop...?"

"I want you to keep your eyes open." He said, and his other hand was now on your chin, making you look at your reflection. "I want you to see how pretty you look when my fingers are pleasuring you... I want you to see how you look when you come on my cock." The idea caused a soft gasp to leave your lips as he delivered a light smack on your pussy "Are you gonna do that for me?"

"Yeah..." You said, and although your eyes were half-lidded, you could see yourself in the mirror, your eye makeup smeared slightly from the wetness in your eyes, your lipstick now almost completely gone. And as you looked at your reflection, you felt Rafe's hand travel down to your pussy once again.

You felt his erection pressing against your ass as he worked your clit with his fingers while you bit down on your lip to stop the moans that were desperate to escape your lips, trying to focus on the faint sound of music you could hear outside the bathroom instead of the way you looked in the mirror, or the way he was turning you into putty in his hands by simply rolling your clit around with his long digits.

"Rafe..."

"Yeah, baby...?" He asked, his fingers picking up their pace as he looked at you in the mirror, pressing hot kisses on the back of your neck, causing shivers to run down your spine.

"I'm close..."

And as those words left your lips, his fingers stopped, causing a disappointed whine to leave your lips as he took a few steps away from you. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because..." He said, releasing himself from his boxers as he stroked his thick, veiny cock with a low groan, preparing himself for you as a drop of precum glimmered under the yellow bathroom light. "I told you I'm gonna make you watch as you come on my cock, didn't I?"

"Yeah..." You sighed, and he got closer to you once again, his large hand coming between your legs, pushing them further apart. His fingers came to your folds, finding your entrance, already slick with your wetness, reminding you of just how close you had been to coming until he stopped you, and he let out a small 'tsk' noise, causing you to purse your lips

He ran his tip over your folds, causing a loud gasp to leave your lips as he positioned the head of his cock at your entrance, every part of your body desperate to have him in you, to feel him fill you. "Say please..." He whispered into your ear huskily, causing a small whine to leave your lips.

"Please..."

And with that, he pushed his entire length into you, not caring how rough it was, causing a loud squeal to leave your lips before he brought his hand to your mouth, covering it. "Gotta be quiet..." He said, his cock still buried inside of you. "You gonna be a good, quiet girl for me, or do you not wanna come?"

You nodded furiously, your eyes stinging with tears, and he pulled his hand away from your mouth at the same time as he pulled himself out of you, before snapping his hips forward, once again filling you as you bit down on your lip, sure you were going to draw blood.

Rafe's grip on your hips was bruising, and he picked up his pace as you desperately tried to keep quiet, one of his hands moving to grab your ass roughly, while his other hand stayed on your hip in a bruising grip, keeping you still. You looked at your reflection in the mirror, Rafe having turned you into nothing but a panting, whimpering mess, so desperate to feel him as he pounded into you. "Do you have any idea what kind of an effect you have on me?" He groaned as he repeatedly hit your cervix, one of your own hands going to cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet, feeling yourself falling apart. "You're such a brat, teasing me, then coming apart this easily for me..."

You gripped the sink, steadying yourself as he made you watch as he filled you up, his hand gripping your hair roughly, bringing your head up so you could get a better look at yourself in the mirror, so desperate for him, to feel him inside of you. His entire mind was completely consumed by you, his entire body focused on the way you felt around him, the way your hips snapped against his, the squelching noise that filled the bathroom as he pounded his cock into your sopping wet cunt.

He could feel himself getting closer, the pleasure building inside of him, his body shaking with need as he brought one of his hands to your pussy, his fingers continuing the ministrations he had started on your clit earlier while his other hand gripped onto your hip tightly, digging into your skin, his body moving against yours in a steady, but erratic rhythm. He buried his face against your neck, breathing in the sweet scent of your skin, his mind consumed with nothing but you.

"Fuck, Rafe..." You breathe out, and he moans lowly at the sound of your voice, his voice shaking with pleasure as he pounds into you, the sound of your voice like a fire to his senses as he moved faster and faster, his need for you almost becoming overwhelming.

"Say it again... Say my name..."

"Rafe..."

He groans at the sound of his name from your lips, your voice like a drug to his senses, his fingers working your clit faster, his mind getting hazier. The sounds of your bodies moving together, the sound of your voice, the feel of you in his arms, it's all becoming too much for him to handle. "One more time... say it one more time..."

"Rafe, I'm so close..." You whine, "Please, let me come..."

He gasps at the sound of his name from your lips again, a low moan escaping his mouth as his body trembles with pleasure over the way you were pleading for him to let you come as he buries his face against your neck, his body shaking against yours as he pressed sloppy kisses on the back of your neck. "Come for me, baby... Wanna see you come on my cock..."

As his fingers picked up their pace on your clit, you couldn't help but let out a moan, releasing your bottom lip from between your teeth as you felt yourself come undone, looking at your reflection, your lips trembling as you felt yourself clench around Rafe's cock, your release washing over your entire body, every vein in your body feeling as if they were lit on fire by him.

Rafe let out a low groan from behind you as he looked at the reflection, the sight of you combined with your clenching cunt around him causing him to be sent over the edge, his body trembling as he reached his own orgasm, his release spilling into you as he buried his face against the back of your neck, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

He held you tightly against him, his body shaking from the intensity and his mind consumed with the aftershocks of his release, Rafe muttering soft curses against your skin, his mind a tangled mess of pleasure and confusion.

Your hair was sticking to your face, a sheen of sweat now covering your skin, your makeup smeared, yet you looked so pretty to him, all ruined, a mess he created. When he pulled out of you, you let out a small whine, but before any of his cum could drip out of your pussy, he pulled your panties up, delivering a soft smack to your ass before he covered it with the hem of your dress, pulling up his own boxers along with his pants.

He turned you around to face him, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip as his hand cupped your cheek. "Didn't I tell you that you'd look so pretty coming on my cock, huh?"

"You did." You chuckled softly, rolling your eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, brat." Rafe grins at you, biting down on his bottom lip. "Or I'm gonna have to punish you..." his words caused you to shiver as you leaned into his touch until he spoke up again, "I'm gonna go back to the party, and I want you to take a moment to fix your pretty face, and then come out there, where no one knows you're full of my cum... is that clear?"

You looked up at him with wide eyes before nodding. "Y-yeah..."

"Good girl." Rafe said, pressing a soft kiss on your lips, before slowly pulling himself away from you, taking one more appreciative look at your figure before walking out of the bathroom, leaving you there, your head still spinning and your pussy full of his cum.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.12 how you get the girl

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 12/x (probably 18)

ᰔ words. 11.3k

a/n. man the color scheme for this chapter is kinda giving BRAT lolol...i mean gojo IS brat. anywho, i don't have much to say at the beginning of this chapter but i do have a LOT to say at the end of it sooo see y'all at the bottom!! hope u enjoy. also BIG THANK YOU to @whereflowerswenttodie who beta read parts of this chapter for me n convinced me not to scrap it lol

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

11:03am you: hi! 11:03am you: good luck today 11:03am you: incase i don’t see you

11:05am Gojo Satoru: Why wouldn’t you? Aren’t you gonna be on the field for your newsletter shots?

11:07am you: i mean yes but idk where i’m gonna be stationed so 11:07am you: it might not be on UTokyo’s side of the field

11:08am Gojo Satoru: Okay then I’ll look for you before the game starts

11:10am you: no pls don’t. coach yaga thinks i distract you. i don’t want to get yelled at again. he scares me :(

11:12am Gojo Satoru: Haha you’re silly 11:13am Gojo Satoru: East side entrance at 2 11:13am Gojo Satoru: Be there

11:14am you: or be square?

11:15am Gojo Satoru: Yea whatever shape you wanna be in is fine cutie

It’s a bright sunny day outside, perfectly blue sky with a scattering of fluffy clouds seen outside the window of your shared room in your apartment, and you realize spring is fully here from the way birds chirp past the glass. You’re stuffing your camera case full of chilled Kodak film rolls, your last stash left, and it’s the last piece of equipment you pack before slinging the strap over your shoulder and heading out the door.

Mina had offered to give you a ride to the stadium since your car’s still at the shop, but you’re happy you opted for the bumpy bus ride and although you come close to low-grade concussions from the bang of your head to the window at every other speed bump, the music in your ears while someone else is operating a public transport vehicle helps you think creatively before shooting shots.

It was surprise enough that Mina of all people was going to this game, and when you questioned her about it in the morning, she looked at you like you were absurd to assume anyone from UTokyo wouldn’t be at this game, and sure enough, it’s all anyone on Instagram has been repping on their stories or talking about in the bustling minutes before lectures. Even Utahime was going to this game, and she hates all intercollegiate sports. You knew the game was a big deal, given the way Coach Yaga was yelled at via email by the Dean of UTokyo to make sure the team wins today because a multimillion dollar Nike sponsorship would be greenlit by the prospect (for some reason you were cc’d in an email chain among divisional higher-ups, but you weren’t opposed to snooping in on conversations that were entirely outside of your tax bracket).

It’s because it’s the second to last home game before the season ends, and apparently this has been statistically the best season the UTokyo D1 Men’s Soccer team has played since the new millenia. No pressure to the players on that fact, but failure wasn’t much of an option for them anymore. 

And you can feel the stakes the second you step inside the stadium. Packed would be an understatement, there were people flooding the aisles, overbooked for the sake of the university pocketing an extra buck no doubt, but spectators could care less since they were able to at least get in on the basis of that irresponsibility in the first place, despite the stadium’s capacity having long been reached before the pregame festivities even start. Banners and signs drape over railings with the school’s striking blue and golden colors, every single replay screen is lit up and brightly pixelated at every north, south, east, and west entrance for inclusive viewing. As you pass VIP security and make it into the lower field-level entry, the scattered chants from the crowd amplify in volume and you almost wince a little to yourself from the noise. The stadium felt like a living, breathing entity, pulsing with the collective heartbeat of everyone inside. 

You’ve never been more overstimulated in your life, except instead of finding it frightening, it was electrifying. And for once, you think you can understand what an athlete must feel when playing on their own home turf surrounded by those that are wholeheartedly rooting for them.

Hana is quick to spot you, panic clear across her face as she regards you with a couple pages with your assigned vantage points, a rushed briefing session, and then she’s darting down the sidelines to make sure equipment is set up appropriately where needed. She’s understaffed, given you told Utahime about Kai’s little intervention last week and she made a nasty point to the university (and possibly a handful of legal threats) and they relented in firing him. So now the three of you were down a photographer, and the extra work shows in the instructions she gave you as you skim the sheets. 

A glance at your phone tells you it’s close to 2pm, and your eyes take in the expanse of green on the field. UTokyo’s players practice kicking shots off to the right goal post, while YCU’s players practice shots off to the left. You can’t spot where Gojo is, but you faithfully head down to the East Side entrance like he asked you to. 

When you round the corner, you almost crash right into an Ichiko mascot, but swiftly dodge, and then you stop in your tracks when you see Gojo standing right at the concrete entrance. He’s leaning back against the adjacent wall, arms crossed at his chest, and he’s stretching his neck side to side with a creased brow, an intense look in his eyes, lost in serious thought, scanning the wall across from him like he’s mapping out plays in his head. 

When you approach him and catch the corner of his eyesight, he leans off the wall and flashes you one of his so extremely charmed to see you grins on reflex, and suddenly there’s nothing your senses seem to pick up on except him. Like everything else around you just disappears.

“Hey, you,” he says when he comes up to you, and you walk him like a dog back to a corner that’s tucked further away from noises and sights. You lean your back against the wall now, the coolness of concrete seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and he stands a step in front of you. Your hands toy with the strap of your camera.

“Are you ready to win today?” you ask him, and look off to the right into the flourishing seats that are still being filled to the brim, “clearly there’s no pressure.”

He breathes in deep, and releases it slowly, like there really was tension to relieve. “We’ve got no choice but to win.”

“Is that something Coach Yaga says to you guys often?” you ask him, because the man recited the same thing about five times in that email chain. “Also, apparently you take years off of his life.” Another thing he recited about five times in that email chain.

Gojo only addresses what he wants to address, as per usual. “Yeah, it’s something he says to us often.” 

“So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”

He looks at you puzzled, tilting his head to the side. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

It’s hard to assume that he didn’t have something to talk about with the intention of telling you to meet him here, because this is the same place you confessed to him a few weeks ago, and so is also the place he so painfully rejected you. But maybe he doesn’t think about these kinds of things as much as you do. “I see.”

His tongue pokes to his cheek as he studies your anticipating expression, and then he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “What are we doing? I mean, I like you, and you like me too, at least I hope you still do. Why don’t we—…why don’t we just give it a go already? I don’t see how we can move forward if you won’t at least let me take you out on a date.”

Your hands stop fidgeting with your camera strap from his words, and you lick your lips, suddenly unable to keep eye contact with him so your gaze drifts down to his chest in front of you. His uniform is clean, no smudges of dirt or grass, just pure white fabric underneath heat-pressed blue and golden accents, and of course, that signature number 10. You’re sure he’s all you’ll ever think of when you see that number now for the rest of your life. 

You know when you want something so bad you don’t know what to do once you have it? Because it almost seems too good to be true? 

“I just wanted to let stuff between us breathe for a little bit,” you confess, “it’s just, it was a lot to deal with. Being around you when I thought you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. I don’t know if this is odd to say, and maybe I’m overthinking it, but I just feel like somewhere along the way, I kind of…forgot who you were for a little bit.” This kind of vulnerability would have you running away with your tail between your legs with anyone else, but not with him. Not after everything. 

His expression softens, melting away that confrontational energy he had earlier, and he nods slowly. He opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t seem to find words. The presence of them is there, though, you can feel them. But what good are his thoughts if not voiced? 

“I just wanted to spend a little bit of time getting to know you again, I guess.” You squeeze your arm in reassurance of yourself because he wasn’t giving it to you. You let out an awkward laugh. “I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, to be honest.”

You can tell he’s at a crossroads, and you think back to this week and his efforts to get you to open up to him again. You know how he feels right now, because it’s exactly how you felt when he rejected you. Like when someone is so close, yet so far, you can feel that they’re within arms reach but never truly. And they’re slipping away for some reason that you may never know, but all you can do is assume that it’s a fault of your own. You’re not really sure what he can do to make you feel secure about this whole thing anymore, and you can see the slight panic in his eyes when he realizes that too.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he tells you, rushed with a desperation entirely contrary to his words, “what’s a week or two when I want to spend a lot more of those with you anyways.” But he takes a deep breath, like he’s already mentally preparing himself for an agonizing wait in his head.

There’s a sound over the stadium speakers, something technical and sporty and goes entirely over your head in dismissal, but to Gojo it seems to have a different effect, as he’s suddenly attentive and stands up straighter, that focused expression on his face from earlier resurfacing. You realize he needs to get back to the field. 

“Can we continue this conversation after the game?” he asks you hastily, already turning towards the center of the stadium. And he adds an obligatory, “sorry.”

“Yeah, sure,” you quickly agree, suddenly feeling like you’re taking up his time. 

He gives you a small smile, unsure in its presentation but pure in its intention. But he can only take one step towards the field before you reach out and pinch the fabric of his jersey to keep him still. He feels the tug of it and fully faces you once again. 

“Um. Just a sec,” you say, “I have something to give you before your game.”

“Oh?” he looks at you with interest, “I fucking love things.” 

“You have to close your eyes though.”

“…what is the thing…” He squints at you with a what are you up to expression.

“Just close your eyes!” you snap at him.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face and then he closes his eyes. “You’re scary as hell sometimes. Excuse me for being cautious.”

You roll your eyes, useless because he doesn’t see it, and then take a step towards him. You cup his jaw with the palm of your hand, his cheek twitching slightly from the unexpected contact, and then you raise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his cheek. It’s short and sweet with the sound of a peck.

“For good luck,” you whisper, then you quickly lower yourself back onto your heels, take a step back and tuck some strands of hair behind your ear. The ground suddenly interests you.

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times with shock and his hand comes up to brush the tips of his fingers against the spot you kissed him, and then his gaze goes comically dazed when he reaches out to hold you. “Alright, c’mere you,” he says, closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he leans down to kiss you but you laugh and push his face away.

“No no no, only on the cheek for now,” you say with a small laugh.

He does nothing to restrain his frustrated groan. “You can’t do something that cute and then expect me to be chill about it.”

“If you win, then, maybe I’ll let you kiss me for real.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes. Maybe.”

He’s close, towering over you near this bustling east side entrance that he seems to like so much, and his eyes drop to your lips. “Alright. I like those odds.” 

You give him a smile and slip away from him to get back towards the field, and you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

The pregame events are a blur, with blaring music accompanied by the sounds of the sports announcers clipping across the speakers, finally quieted down in time for the players to line up on the field for the national anthem which was then followed by UTokyo’s alma mater. 

You’re stationed on the same side of the field as Minato, UTokyo’s side, while Hana is covering the sidelines of the opposite end with the opponents goal post. Minato’s filling up a cup of Gatorade for himself at the athlete’s station and then he comes back around to find you.

“Are you ready to take your shots? I see Hana wanted you to shoot on film today,” he says to you as he sloshes around Glacier Freeze in a flimsy plastic cup.

You twist your aperture dial with your thumb. “Yesss, all set. I’ll try to keep up.” 

He nods at you in approval.

The atmosphere feels nerve wracking. Something felt different about this game, the stakes feeling high. Well, of course they’re high, because if they lose today then they’re out of the tournament. But the stakes feel high for other reasons too, an energy you can pick up on but can’t quite discern. 

Your eyes drift across the field where you can see a referee placing a ball at the center of the field. Off to the right, you can see Gojo standing with a few of his other teammates, including Geto, Nanami, and Choso, and they’re all gesticulating to various corners of the field as they discuss what you can only imagine have to do with their plays for today. And you realize— it’s their last college soccer season. Their second-to-last official home match before the championship, and for those of them that haven’t qualified for the national league, it may be their second-to-last match of this caliber for the rest of their lives. One of the final chances that they have to prove something of themselves. The determination was palpable. 

The chief referee’s whistle cuts through the air with three short chirps, and that gathers the attention of all the players on the field. UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kickoff, and YCU’s players choose to attack the left side goal.

Your stomach churns with anticipation, the crowd hushing too as all the players take their places on the field. If you feel nervous, you can only imagine how the athletes feel. There’s a rhythm that you’ve learned over the past couple of months getting to know the sport, where players stretch out their necks and kick out their feet and take subtle deep breaths as they survey the stands. Idle moments before the start of the match where they have no choice but to look forward and only forward, so they take a moment to stay in the present for as long as they can gather. You’ve never been much of a sports spectator, and perhaps you’ve only recently had some personal interest in the team, but you realize you feel pride in your school as you stand behind chalk sideline and see UTokyo’s colors scattered across the field in uniform. And fuck, you wanted them to win. You wanted them to win with fierceness and wrath, and it’s a desire you share with the crowd. 

Gojo spends a minute talking to the referee before the black and white striped man pats him high on the back in the good sport and urges him towards the center of the field. He lifts his foot up onto the ball, rolling it back and forth underneath the spikes of his cleat, and you can see it in his eyes, even from all the way over here, that he seems to have different ideas in mind for this game too. High stakes. Pre-determined, set with will, evident in the clench of his jaw and the concentrated furrow of his brow as he surveys the field with his eyes, and you’re lost in the sight for what feels like forever because you can hardly register the chirp of the ref’s whistle. 

And then the kickoff starts. 

The ball is tapped to Geto to start the play, and the first few minutes were intense as the ball was passed back and forth between UTokyo’s players, placing pressure on YCU’s defense as they inched closer and closer towards the goal. A pass between UTokyo’s #4 was intercepted by YCU and the ball was rushed down towards the left side, the crowd’s horror evident in the uproar as they raise to their feet in fearful anticipation, and with ruthless offense, YCU’s forward takes a clear sink shot towards the goal, and the crowd holds their breath before they watch Choso lunge for it in air, gloved hands firmly grabbing the ball and then pulling it to his chest with a possessiveness you can only expect to see from a skilled goalie, before he crashes down into the ground and the crowd releases relief in the form of rowdy roars.

Ten minutes in, with everyone on their toes, each team tested each other’s defenses. UTokyo were known for stellar offense, especially within the past few years with players like Gojo Satoru and Takuma Ino joining the league as powerful forwards, but UTokyo’s overall offense was still statistically second to none other than YCU. And the pressure YCU was putting on UTokyo’s defense was wearisome to say the least. You glance to see Nanami, who is UTokyo’s best defensive player, huffing and puffing as he stands between two light-footed YCU players in an attempt to guard, and fails an attempt to steal the ball before it gets to the feet of YCU’s striker #6, passed in a split second off to his teammate, with a fake so seamless that it has Choso just a couple inches away from touching the ball before it’s sent flying into the net. 

The noises from the crowd are still loud, but dampened in spirit. 

With the referees hand signal up in the air, the current score is confirmed. 0-1, YCU. 

Coach Yaga calls for a sub, in which he switches Nanami out for who you believe is a 2nd-year defensive player name Yuta you’ve seen around practice with a promising statistical record for interceptions, and you watch as Nanami takes the bench before he swipes the sweat off his face in exhaustion. God. Just fifteen minutes into the match, and YCU already has UTokyo’s defense winded from play. 

You bring your camera up to your face, forgetting for a moment that there was still a job to do here, and you position the direction of the lens towards the center of the field, where Gojo takes his place at the ball once more. Yuta briefly passes by him, signaling some play to him by holding up a number three, likely something Coach Yaga asked him to pass on to Gojo, and you see him briefly nod, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes slowly and pulls his jersey up to wipe at the sweat at his forehead. 

The referee chirps the whistle, Gojo taps the ball to Yuta, and the play starts. 

YCU immediately puts pressure on UTokyo’s offensive play once more, with eager movements to steal the ball, but it’s passed between UTokyo’s players with ease, more practiced and more sure. The kind of play that you and the rest of the school was used to seeing from them. However, Geto loses the ball on a left-back pass, but right when YCU makes attempts to cover field in a long-shot kick towards the left, Yuta intercepts the ball and swiftly passes it to Gojo.

The crowd immediately rises to their feet in anticipation, watching as Gojo shuffles the ball down the field, dangerously close to off-field boundaries, a signature tactic he uses because he knows there’s not a single player in the league that can match him in precision and control to keep the ball in-field on a steal, and he swiftly passes it towards Geto with a side-swept kick, beelining down towards the goal post, in perfect time for Geto pass-back to meet his feet and when Gojo was this close to a net, there was no stopping him. 

He draws his right foot back, and explosively kicks the ball forward, chipping the grass under it in the motion, and it’s sent flying towards the goal, and then threaded past the goalie right to the back of the net. The cheers that erupt across the stadium rumble the ground beneath you. 

1-1, even match.

UTokyo spends no time celebrating, other than a few pats to Gojo’s back as he nods in acknowledgement, no emotion on his face other than pure concentration and greed. The greed to win, like a righteous sin. He stretches his neck out, panting slightly as he takes his place towards the right side of the field and the referee chirps his whistle to signal YCU to start the kickoff.

They quickly make attempts in moving the ball towards their scoring-end of the field, but face push-back from UTokyo’s defense, unable to make it much further past the midfield line, and you bring your camera up to take a snap of Gojo, who you see is still standing off to the right side of the field. But when you position it and peer through the viewfinder, that space he once stood at was empty. You pull your camera down, and blink at the sight, and then the crowd is picking up in volume once more.

Gojo sprints down the flank, cutting past every defender, and moves towards YCU’s attacking goal, which was a shocking place to be for a center forward, but you could feel his desire and determination to steal this back-and-forth ball, and succeeds when YCU makes an open pass, thinking they were in the clear, only to have Gojo sneak in at the last moment and get the ball at his feet. 

The play moves by in a flash, a blur that you or anyone else in the stadium could hardly keep up with it, movements so fast you were shocked a human being was capable of even running that far in such a short amount of time, and in an almost embarrassingly easy play, Gojo makes a fool out of YCU’s defenders as he slips the ball through the legs of his last obstacle before he struck it with sharp precision, sending it soaring to the corner of the goal, past the outstretched arms of the goalie, and into the net. 

2-1, UTokyo.

It was electrifying, the feeling that strikes through the stadium, one that reaches you in your own blood. You’re shocked, standing here, after witnessing Gojo score two goals within the matter of minutes, against one of the top three teams in the league. It’s a shock that reaches everyone, including Coach Yaga who’s standing about ten feet down the line from you, his arms crossed, and you see his eyes for the first time as he takes his sunglasses off to get a better look at what he’s seeing.

You trail his sight, dragging your gaze across the field until it lands at Gojo, who is barely acknowledging the encouraging pats and shakes and goodhearted shoves that his teammates were giving him, because he was focused. It might sound crazy to say, but you swear his eyes looked like a fiercer shade of blue, like they were lit up, and you’re insanely glad you’re not one of YCU’s defensive players at the moment because you feel fearful of him even just standing on the sidelines. 

Your gaze trails back to Coach Yaga, who slowly puts his sunglasses back on but his brows are narrowed tightly as he crosses his arms over his chest tightly.

The “athletic zone”... You’ve heard of it before. A state of pure focus, of peak performance, where an athlete experiences optimal concentration and a sense of effortless control over their actions. In which they perform at their highest level, where time slows down, any and all distractions fade away, and they’re completely immersed in their sport at hand. At the task at hand.

Coach Yaga seems to pick up on the fact that Gojo was on the edge of tapping into that state. 

YCU makes a substitution, and you watch in anticipation as they begin the kickoff. 

There’s fire in their veins with desperation to even out the score once more, rushing the ball down the off-field line, one of their center forwards mimicking Gojo’s signature attack pattern, and Yuta struggles to keep up with the expert dribbling of a fourth-year player with more experience on him, so much so to where he completely leaves the ball unguarded and there’s an open shot, but Geto places pressure at the last moment, in a fierce battle for the ball, before YCU’s center forward loses the ball over the goal line. 

Choso picks the ball up, tapping on it harshly a few times as he surveys his eyes down the field, and all offensive players begin to shuffle towards their attacking goal in anticipation for the goal kick. He signals his hand down and then holds up two fingers in the air before placing the ball down on the six-yard box. He tightens the strap of one of his gloves, eyes squinting, and you follow his gaze down to a part of the field where you note UTokyo’s best aerial players are located and being guarded by YCU’s defense. And with complete trust in his team, that’s exactly where he kicks the ball. 

Geto makes first contact with the ball, his chest colliding with two other YCU players as his head comes out on top and he headbutts the ball closer towards the inner field, and Gojo immediately gains access to it with a bounce of his knee. The crowd holds their breath, fear that they’ll lose the ball to a steal in the split second it spends floating in the air, but Gojo urges it forward with a bounce off of his chest and then rushes it straight down towards the goal post. 

You wonder what sight he sees right now. Where you’re dead center, at no angle, lunging towards the sight of an open goal with a sole goalie standing in the center, anticipating to block your shot, and three defenders on your tail. There’s no room for error, no time to think, only instincts that you cultivate in the last leading milliseconds. They say that, in sports, athletes channel one hundred hours of practice in just a brief second on the field. A split second success that was years in the making. You can’t even imagine possessing that level of perfection in your body, or possessing that level of confidence that you can follow through with it in a moment as dire as this.

It was unreal, the way Gojo fades away from all the defenders, and faces no fear when confronted with the sight of the goalie in front of him while drawing his foot back to kick the ball. You lift your camera up at the last second, no time to think about aperture or ISO, just like he had no time to second-doubt a single twitch in his muscles, and his foot makes contact with the ball so harshly that you can hear the explosive sound even among the delirious cheers from the crowd, before he hook, line, and sinks it straight past the goalie’s head, rushing by like a scarcely deflected bullet, and into the net behind him. 

3-1, UTokyo.

The whole stadium is momentarily speechless, all players and referees and recruiters and reporters and coaches and employees alike, before the most deafening cheers you’ve ever heard in your life scatter across the stands.

There’s a moment of brief reprieve, where the players can catch their breath while YCU makes yet another substitution, as if they’re just trial-and-erroring it at this point, and the cheers in the stadiums remain idle as you can’t tear your gaze away from Gojo.

It’s one of those moments where you realize that someone who you thought was so familiar to you was actually someone you hardly knew at all. You knew he was a talented soccer player, everyone on campus knows it, potentially one of the best to ever grace the league, and the amount of times you passively watched his plays on a lecture hall projector screen as your professor enthusiastically broke them down during class, even before you met him, was good enough for you to realize that he was insane, a one-in-a-million, a talent you cannot replicate, one you have by divinity. One you were born with. 

And yet, somehow, getting to know him these past couple of months, he just felt so human. For someone so seemingly beyond you, he felt so…close? In those moments where it was just the two of you, it was hard to imagine that he was capable of such greatness, and that so many people were rooting for him with wholehearted tears in their eyes and cheers from their hearts, because most of the time, when he was with you, he was just a dorky idiot. You find that your heart is beating fast in your chest, that feeling of being unsure of what to do with what you’ve been wanting resurfacing powerfully. 

“This is insane,” you hear Minato say from beside you and you jump a little from your thoughts being interrupted.

You twiddle with your camera straps. “I know…almost done with the first half and we’re up 3-1…I thought YCU are number one in offense for the league?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean, yes, that is insane too. But what’s even more insane is that three of the goals so far have been scored by one player.” He tips his chin towards the right sight of the field and you trail his line of sight. “By Gojo Satoru.”

Your brow furrows as you watch Gojo, his hands on his hips and his mouth slightly open as he indulges in a few shallow breaths to gain energy while YCU prepares for kickoff. Three goals, by just one player. Your eyes widen when you realize that is insane, especially for a D1 semi-final qualifying match.

“You know what the divisional record is for most goals scored by a single player during a championship match, y/n?” Minato asks you as he lifts his camera up to take a picture of the area Gojo was standing in. 

You shake your head and wait for his response.

He drops his camera down and glances at the photo on his screen. “Four. During Keio Uni vs. Osaka Uni, near the beginning of the tournament back in 1997 by Osaka’s center forward number 24, Yuji Nakazawa. Meaning no one’s managed to beat that record since the new millenia, for a couple decades. Although a few players came close.”

You blink at him, and Minato is jerking his chin over in the direction of Gojo again.

“I think he’s trying to beat the record.”

You can only widen your eyes at Minato in realization, and then the chirp of the referee’s whistle draws everyone’s attention back to the field. 

The sports announcers go wild on the speakers, the crowd raving all the same, standing to their feet like the team just won the championship match.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! We are watching HISTORY in the making!! Gojo Satoru, UTokyo’s very own 3-year consecutive MVP, has scored his 34th goal of the season, highest of any player in this year’s season so far, and is now on the road to beat the league’s long-standing record for most goals scored by a single player in a championship match since 1997!!” And the crowd roars even louder as you stare out at the field in awe.

YCU starts the kickoff following the prompt short chirp of the referee’s whistle, and with two minutes remaining on the clock for the first half, make desperate attempts to book it down the field towards their attacking goal, one of their midfielders making a clumsy attempt to strike the ball to the net in the final minutes of the half, and Choso easily catches it in his arms, right before the buzzer of the timer sounds, and the match moves into halftime. 

All of UTokyo’s players immediately flock towards Gojo in sportful glee, finally having a chance to surround him and harass him with harsh pats on his back and ruffles of his hair for his play in the first half. Choso even puts him in a headlock because they all don’t know what else to do with their excitement and adrenaline rushing through their bodies. Their win for today was basically confirmed with the way he was playing. 

You catch a glimpse of him through the crowd of people, and he has a boyish grin on his face, reveling in the embarrassing amount of attention from his teammates, that focused look from before dissolving into his normal self again. But you can see through him, as well enough as you’ve learned to at least, and you can tell he’s not satisfied. He’s thinking it’s not enough. There’s still more to be done, and it’s not time to celebrate yet. 

His eyes scan down the sideline until they find you. 

Your heart jumps a second in your chest. He stands up straighter, despite his teammates still clinging to him, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes when your eyes meet. 

Cheerleaders take their place out onto the field, performing their numbers with loud music blaring, and the recruiters seated at their white tables get up to roam across the sidelines in discussion with referees and with Coach Yaga and with whatever players they can sink their greedy teeth into, as well as sneak at refreshments while they’re at it. You can see off to the right that Hana has reunited with Minato and she’s showing him some of the shots she took over at the opponent's side. 

UTokyo’s players start to make their way to the benches to grab for towels and drinks of water and to sprawl across in rest, and you hear loud familiar laughter approaching as you watch the players sprawl across the benches, so you avert your eyes towards the source of the sound. 

You see Gojo approaching the benches, two of his teammates slung with their arms around him in some type of adrenaline-drunken glee as they talk dramatically and theatrically which Gojo entertains with his own drunk-off-of-adrenaline glee. And you raise an eyebrow at his demeanor when he makes eye contact with you.

“There’s my freaky little photographer,” he says, and he’s standing up straight and—wait, is he puffing his chest out as he makes his way towards you? Oh for fucks sake.

Gojo has always been confident around you, for as long as you can remember, but in the fair few moments he’s been cocky, he’s been a menace. And you can only assume the testosterone-induced high of being on the verge of breaking a league record in front of the entire school then subsequently getting homiesexually praised by his teammates for the better part of the past five minutes, not to mention with the crowd and the reporters feeding his ego with a spoon across the speakers, he’s been transformed into the final boss of cocky.

His teammates surround you too, their hands on their hips as they assess you and Gojo when he meanders right up to you, arms held out to hug you, a sleazy sight you’ve seen probably six times this week, and you feel a rush of warmth in your cheeks as you place a hand on his chest to keep him away.

“You’re sweaty and gross, please stay away from me,” you reprimand him, “this is an expensive lens that is not humidity-proof.” 

“Hey, you’re the girl that Kentaro socked in the face with a ball the other day at practice, right?” one of his teammates asks, leaning in towards you to take a closer look at your face.

“Oh yeahhh, ‘cause Satoru wasn’t paying attention,” another one of his teammates chimes in teasingly, hardly heard over the loud remix playing in the background as the cheerleaders continue to perform on the field. 

You shrink a little from where you stand. Gojo’s got an irritated look on his face and he’s shrugging his teammate’s elbow off of his shoulder.

“I really hope you’re getting my good angles,” his teammate to the left comments before winking at you, and you purse your lips together. 

The one on the right leans in too, looking at your cheek with an assessing look in his eye. “At least it didn’t leave a scar on your cute face—”

Gojo shoves the both of them back and away from you by elbowing them in the chest, and they make deep eugh noises before stepping away and rubbing at their sternums with pouts on their faces.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he grumbles, “she’s mine.”

Your cheeks flush slightly with warmth at the attention, and you watch as his teammates scurry away to adhere to some social hierarchy Gojo seems to possess over them.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yours?”

“Yes. Eventually. Whatever, did you see me out there?” he turns his torso towards the field and points behind himself with his thumb, “when I—”

“Oh god, you know what’s soooooooooo super sexy to me?” you interrupt him. “When guys are humble.”

“Oh c’monnn,” he curls his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, to where you stumble a little on grass and he holds you when you fall into him with more clumsiness than grace. “Tell me you aren’t at least impressed by me.”

You pout, because you are, and you’d really like to give him some reassurance and validation, but for some reason his cocky attitude is setting you off. “Satoru,” you sigh, wiggling a little in his hug, but he holds you tighter, “I’m working right now. Cut it out.”

He lets go of you at that, sober enough from the adrenaline to realize you’re being serious, but he steps into your space so only you can hear him. “What? Are you embarrassed?”

“Of what?” Your face twists with confusion.

“Of me. Are you embarrassed of me?” he asks.

“No. Why would I be embarrassed of you?” you ask with sharpness.

“I don’t know, just, sometimes I feel like you’re always annoyed by me,” he says with a sigh. “It’s like, you’re really sweet sometimes, and then kinda rude out of nowhere, and it’s sort of messing with my head.”

You pout. “You were messing with my head for weeks.”

“And I’m sorry about that,” he quickly interjects, like he already knew you were brewing up that counterargument, “but you don’t have to act like you’re all disinterested and indifferent just to get back at me for it.” He places his hands on his hips and wipes his temple on the round part of his shoulder when he feels a drop of sweat trickle down from his hairline. “You don’t have to act embarrassed around me either.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” you deny, and your cheeks feel hot, and for some reason you feel angry. “In fact, I’m the one that should be asking you that question. Because I still very clearly remember that time you said I was just someone you know in front of your friends.”

He groans and tilts his head back with frustration. “Can you just let that go? Things have changed between us since then. Move on.” 

“You kissed me and then pretended I was just a stranger to you in front of your friends,” you grit as you cross your arms. “That’s the level of sincerity that I know from you, Satoru.”

“Oh, okay, so there’s nothing else I’ve done that shows you that I’m serious about you?” he asks rhetorically with incredulity, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.

No. That’s not true, not true at all. But he’s pissed you off now and so all logic was to the wind. “Doesn’t matter. If you’re not embarassed of me, and if you’re really serious about me this time, then fucking prove it.” You’re speaking out of spite, and you fear you’ve just set him off too.

“Fine,” he says, and he grabs the microphone straight out from a passing reporter’s hand, replacing it with a gatorade bottle. The reporter stares at the bottle he’s now holding with confusion. “I will.”

“W-Wait—” you squeak out, feeling the hair at the back of your neck bristle in anticipation and a shiver gets sent down your spine. The cheerleaders are making their way off the field at the end of their routine, and you can hear the thumps across the loud boisterous speakers when Gojo whacks his palm to the microphone to make sure the thing was on before he jogs to the center of the field.

The crowd is already cheering, ecstatic to see the afternoon's star player and pride & joy of their school, and Gojo takes a moment to soak in all the glory in comical appreciation with bowing towards all 360 degree angles of the stadium.

“Uhhh,” you hear Choso from beside you, who’s strapping his thick goalie gloves tightly to his wrists, “Why the fuck does Satoru have a microphone while standing in the middle of the field.”

“It can’t be for any publicly decent reason,” Geto muses.

All you can do is watch.

“Hi, uh,” Gojo starts, static blaring slightly across the speakers and the crowd winces with him, “sorry. I’m Satoru, Gojo Satoru, you might know me from—uh, the game you’ve been watching?”

Cheers all around, because as if a single person wouldn’t know who he is. The stands were rowdy and most definitely drunk off of sidestep beers the stadium has been serving all afternoon long. 

Gojo is about to continue speaking, when he catches sight of the table of recruiters in the corner of his eye and he turns to face them out of respect. “Oh, yeah, uh, number 10,” he tugs his jersey up at the shoulder to stretch out the fabric, the 1 and the 0 flattened in view, “division player ID 233-997. Coach Yaga keeps my business cards in his purse if you want one.”

“SAAAAATTOOORRUUUU!!!!!” you hear Coach Yaga yell from somewhere in the distance.

“Anywho,” Gojo continues, and the music dims slightly, so he glances at the stop clock on the screen, which shows him he’s got roughly five minutes left to pull off whatever idiocracy he had in mind before the second half of the game starts. “Just here to say that there’s this girl I really like.”

The crowd gets louder, almost deafening, and sonically mostly feminine in (delusional) hope he’s gonna name call one of them.

Gojo’s voice is crisp and clear through the speakers as he clarifies. “She’s standing over there,” he says as he nonchalantly points to your exact latitude and longitudinal direction, “with the big camera slung around her neck that looks like it could pull her down to the center of the earth. Yeah. She’s super cute and I really like talking to her.”

“Uh-oh,” Geto murmurs from beside you, and you glance at him to try to get a read on the situation but you can’t.

Gojo starts to pace across the center of the field now, like he’s working the crowd. “But get this—she thinks I’m not fuckin’ serious about her!!!”

The crowd groans with him in unison. Yep, most certainly drunk. Or high off of glee. Either way, he’s playing them like a violin.

“Huh?” Gojo’s voice sounds distant now, away from the mic, and you can see on the large pixelated screen that he’s being interrupted by someone that looks like one of the videographers, “oh, what’s that? This is being broadcasted? Uh-huh. Oh. I’m not allowed to cuss? Oh fuck, okay. Er— shit, okay. Wait—shoot, okay.”

Choso’s smirk is heard from beside you, and you catch Geto and Nanami shaking their heads in your periphery.

“LIKE I SAID,” Gojo continues into the mic, “the girl I like thinks I’m just messing around, so. Uh. To show her that I’m serious about her, I’m gonna…” He looks up at the sky to ponder, and you can hear people shouting all sorts of suggestions of nonsense from the crowd. And instead of saying proclaim my undying affection for her through a romantic soliloquy straight from my heart in the presence of the entire school, he says—“I’m gonna strip. Yes. Down to my tighty whities, Imma strip.”

H–

Huh?!?!?

You don’t even have time to be horrified or scared, you’re just bewildered beyond belief that that’s what he came up with.

What the fuck kind of reassurance did you ask for. And what the fuck kind of reassurance were you about to get?

The crowd goes wild, it’s no surprise to say everyone and their mothers wants to see him naked, even the straight dudes would dig it for the gym inspo. And he points straight to you, sleazy look on his face and you’re going to ignore the fact that he just winked at you too as he crosses his arms to hold the hem of his jersey and pulls it up over his head in the most raunchy and slutty way a man can take his shirt off.

The music manager is quick with the bit, and is most definitely a fellow Gen Z college student, because Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack (ft. Timbaland) starts playing across the speakers and the crowd goes ballistic.

“Ayo why’s Satoru Magic Mike’ing the field right now?” one of his other teammates calls out through a mouthful of protein bar, “What the fuck did I miss?”

The cameraman does God’s work in a hella zoom-in of Gojo’s sweat glistened abs, then pans up the naked expanse of the perfect taut skin across his chest, and you can’t help but stare even among all your horror. It’s like when a male bird embarrasses the fuck outta himself to attract a female bird sitting on a perch, except instead of within the context of a NatGeo documentary, this was your real life. Everyone wants him, but he’s making a fool out of himself for you. 

He pretends to stretch his arms up into the air, a cover-up to flex his biceps, and then he kicks his cleats off, and the socks come off too. Entirely unnecessary, as showing one's ankles is simply too slutty, but alas he’s a whore. And when his thumbs dip into the waistband of his shorts, and there’s anticipating screeching from the crowd, he finally gets chased by security. 

Except he’s an intercollegiate D1 athlete, why the fuck wouldn’t he be able to outrun a bunch of dudes in black?

The camerawork on him is phenomenal as he runs across the sidelines of the field, eliciting a wave down the bleachers. So good in fact that you’re pretty sure the camera man could shoot for the Olympic track and field, with the way the stadium’s got a clear sight of Gojo mouthing the lyrics Them other fuckers don’t know how to act from the song still blaring with satirical rage on his face as he makes a fool of the men chasing him around the perimeter of the field.

And then he does it, drops his shorts, discards them with a kick, and he’s down to his tighty whities as promised. Cameraman has got to be displaying some previously undiscovered level of talent as he zeroes in on a shot of said tighty whities, with Gojo’s—forgive me, I need to be crass—huge bulge prominent in Big Dick Energy fashion except his tighty whities have little red hearts in rows across the fabric so do with that duality what you will.

He’s outrun security with a steady grin on his face as he eats up the drunken crowd’s cheers and riots and roars and you feel like you’re the only sane person in this stadium, or maybe you’re just not used to the fanatics of a college sports crowd. You peep the men in black trailed all the way on the left side of the field where they abandoned their pursuit of Gojo.

He taps imaginary pockets at his thighs, very muscular thighs you take indulgence in noticing, as if he expected to find something there, and he looks around when he doesn’t. He shrugs and grabs the microphone of the next passing sports commentator he spots, and then he makes his way back to you.

His breathing is a little shallow, and he inhales deep to catch his breath. “Baby.” The crowd SCREAMS at the way he purrs the word into the mic. “Will you do me the honor,” he’s huffing and puffing, heard across blaring speakers, “of being my lawfully wedded girlfriend?” And then he holds the mic to your lips.

“W-Wha—” you stutter, and there’s chanting across the crowd with words that barely make sense until you finally realize they’ve started to yell say yes! say yes! say yes! “Oh my gosh, okay, yes, fine, now please, for the love of god, put some freaking clothes on!”

The crowd goes wild with cheerful glees, and Gojo shoots fists up in the air in celebration as he runs all the way towards the center of the field with high knees, and you’re gawking at the sight, before he falls backward onto the grass and makes delirious snow angels on the ground. You see Coach Yaga’s vein popping in his neck from pure agitation as he storms off towards the center of the field to knock some sense into Gojo, but you know that Coach Yaga can’t kick him out, because they still have a game to win. The perks of being the most valued player in the league is getting to act like an absolutely insane idiot because you know they still need you in the end to bring it home.

You glance to the right, seeing his teammates nodding slowly then getting back to wrapping athletic tape around ankles and stretching out shoulders, with immediate acceptance of his actions like it wasn’t even out of character for him to do. And you realize again that you don’t know Gojo as well as you think you do.

And then the halftime timer is up.

You see Gojo approach the benches in a quick jog, squeezing some water into his mouth with his green gatorade squirt bottle, and when your eyes flit up to the screens on all four entrances, you see that the cameramen are still all focused on him accompanied by the continued buzz of conversation among the crowd following his public spectacle. But he seems to already be past any semblance of embarrassment as he takes the attention with ease, before he glances up to make eye contact with you and then lightly jogs right up to you.

“Did that prove to you that I’m not embarrassed of you?” he asks you, cocking a brow with a smug look on his face as he gets all up in your personal space. 

“I don’t know, but I’m certainly thoroughly and expeditiously embarrassed of you now,” you say, cheeks feeling flush when he leans forward so he can make eye contact with you at eye level. “I’ll have to move to a different country.”

His grin is relaxed. “Yeah well you asked for it.”

“Maybe. But I underestimated what a lunatic you are.”

“You’re my girlfriend now, you’ve gotta get used to it.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. “Satoru–”

“Tomorrow,” he cuts you off, “Hinode pier. I’ll pick you up at six. It’s a date, so wear something cute. And preferably easy to take off.” And then he’s attentive to the chirp of the referee’s whistle in the air before jogging backwards towards the feel and eventually turns on his heel towards the field while you’re left with warm cheeks and a heart that felt like it was moving at a mile a minute.

The timer for the second half refreshes on the screen while you loosely hold your camera in your shaking hands. It occurs to you that you haven’t taken a single photo of him before the start of the kickoff, and so you bring the piece of consolidated metal up to your eyes, peering through the viewfinder and focusing it on the center of the field. And there he was. Your muse.

Gojo lets out a breath, which you can see even from here that it’s shaky and staggered with resistance, and he lifts his jersey up to swipe at the sweat trickling down his face as he eyes the ball underneath YCU’s player’s foot just prior to the start of the second half. There it was—that look again of pure focus. 

3-1, forty-five minutes on the clock. And the referee chirps the whistle to start the second half.

It’s immediately evident that YCU has returned to the field following halftime with renewed energy, pressing high down the flank relentlessly past UTokyo’s defense, so fast it was hard for anybody to even keep a steady eye on the ball with the fluidity of their passes. The persistence pays off in the fake double-pass that slips past Geto’s feet, a moment of hesitation in the broken flow of UTokyo’s defense, and one of YCU’s strikers has the perfect line of shot towards the goal before digging his foot under the ball and sending it flying towards the corner of the goal post, scoring themselves a goal within just the first five minutes of play.

3-2.

The pressure mounts at the next kickoff, and with about seven minutes of solid play, with back-and-forth passes, multiple attempts at both goal posts to no avail on either side, it was clear that exhaustion was bustling in the veins of all the players.

One of YCU’s offensive players seems to capitalize on this, jumping on a defensive lapse of a pass Nanami attempted to make towards Yuta, and the ball is swiftly stolen then raced back towards the goal post. Choso prepared himself at the line, light on his feet paired with a solid stance, but in a millisecond of a moment, YCU’s offense unexpectedly passes the ball to a player racing up the midfield, and the player chips the ball neatly into the exposed corner of the goal despite Choso’s attempt to lunge for it in mid air.

Equalized, 3-3 game, momentary shock across the players’ faces, and the crowd bustles with something that sounds less like glee and more life fear. YCU was prepared to live up to and hold onto their title as the league’s number one offense, and as Minato explained to you during your time working in this job, an offensive team isn’t good at scoring goals, but rather exceptional at breaking down the other team’s defense.

Your eyes zero in on Geto, who stands in the center of the field for kickoff, and he’s huffing and puffing. He's the lead of defense for the team, and you can only imagine the level of pressure he feels right now. He glances around to his players, over to Nanami who seemed to share the same level of exhaustion, and then he glances towards Gojo who stood in front of him off to the right. Except you notice that Gojo looks relaxed, albeit still exhausted, but there’s a composed expression on his face even in the moment of heightened stakes. With locked eyes, Geto nods at Gojo and raises two fingers up into the air to signal a play, of which Gojo seems to respond to by closing more distance between him and the goal post prior to the kickoff, positioning himself almost directly in front of it, to which YCU’s defense immediately begin to guard him in a tight radius. 

The kickoff begins, with Geto making a few passbacks with Nanami as they close distance towards the field before passing it off to UTokyo’s string of offense and then receding back to their defending goal. UTokyo continues to close distance, raising stakes for YCU as their defense begins to falter under pressure, and the ball gets passed to Gojo, who only keeps it in possession for less than three seconds before he passes it back to Yuuji, a risky decision to make in the second half of a semifinal match, but the first-year swiftly unleashes a powerful shot that rockets past YCU’s goalkeeper, up towards the corner, except–

It bounces off the metal of the goal post, shot off with projectile speed back towards the center of the field, but with razor-sharp reflexes, Gojo headbutts the ball in air, twists his torso and strikes the ball with his foot past a dumbfounded goalie who can’t even move an inch to guard the ball that he already knew was going to sink right into the goal, and that’s exactly what it does. 

The stadium erupts with the momentum.

4-3, UTokyo. 

It was a sweet moment, one you manage to capture on camera of Gojo running up to Yuuji and ruffling his hair in reassurance, despite the missed goal. Your heart feels warm in your chest, feeling your own sense of melancholy that this was one of the last times they’ll ever get to play together on a team. 

Your eyes widen when you glance at the scoreboard, realizing that he’s tied. Gojo is tied for the most goals scored during a championship match. There were less than three minutes left on the clock. UTokyo either preserves their lead, or they risk moving into overtime, which, judging by the exhaustion on the UTokyo players’ faces in the wake of YCU’s relentless offense this entire game, moving into overtime would be a hefty, hefty risk. 

YCU’s center forward takes his place in the center of the field, fire evident in his eyes as he glances across the field. YCU are light on their feet, channeling everything in their bodies into these last moments of the game as they prepare to start the kickoff. You glance across UTokyo’s players, and although they look spent, there was a resolute look to all of them. It wasn’t the time to give up or feel at ease even near the end of this grueling battle. Now was the time to play. 

The referee chirped his whistle, and the kickoff began.

YCU immediately presses hard, as all their other plays have been all game, in their desperation to score. You can already see UTokyo’s midfielders move sluggishly in comparison to YCU’s offense, a drag to their feet as YCU pushes past the first layer of defense towards their attacking goal. Geto takes an aggressive approach, making moves to steal the ball while Nanami and Yuta guarded both flanks, and there was a relentless pass-off happening that ate up more than a minute of the remaining time.

Nanami succeeds in stealing the ball, but immediately loses it under his feet by a YCU midfielder, who makes a broad pass down the sidelines to YCU’s star forward who then powerfully kicks the ball towards the unguarded area of their goal, a dangerous shot that was clear towards the crossbar and Choso makes a leap for it, high into the air, his glove brushing against the ball, the entire crowd holding their breath in anticipation–

And the ball lands in the net. 

4-4, tied game. With one minute and seventeen seconds left on the clock. 

There was no time wasted in getting back to center field. No time spent dwelling in the horrific roars of the crowd as they watch with anxiety and fear. No time spent to process or consider or signal any plays. Not even a single second used to catch breath. When there is this much at stake, an athlete thrives on momentum. 

To your surprise, Gojo isn’t the one that takes place at the center of the field to start the kickoff. Yuta stands there instead, and you notice his eyes are erratic as he surveys all corners of the field. 

The referee chirps his whistle. 

Yuta immediately passes it off to the side to UTokyo’s midfielder, who curls it towards their attacking goal with a swift pass to Ino, who closes distance towards the goal, but one of YCU’s defender slips in, undoing any progress they had made in their offense by stealing the ball and sending it back towards mid-field. Forty-three seconds. The crowd’s roars heightened as YCU continued to push forward, thirty yards now from scoring, and UTokyo’s defense was desperate to stop them but their momentum was cracking in the wake of their exhaustion. 

It was a moment you don’t think you could ever fully or truly recall, one that you wish you had focused all your energy and attention to so that you could commit it to memory for the rest of your life. The image of Gojo pushing all the way to ten yards before their defending goal, a place where no center forward should really be at in a game like this, but it was exactly what their defense needed. It was exactly what the team needed. It was exactly what the school needed. For the ball to be in his possession.

With twenty-two seconds left on the clock, he steals the ball from right under YCU’s offensive feet, and then charges towards the opposite side of the field. The crowd rises to their feet, thunderous roaring that overtook any and all senses, as Gojo weaves through forwards, center forwards, midfielders, and defenders, covering the entire span of the field in lightning time. Fifty yards, forty yards, thirty yards, twenty hards, ten yards–

In a moment you couldn’t believe, he digs his foot underneath the ball, and sends it flying out towards the goal. There was not even a margin of an inch in which it slipped past the goalie’s hands, past his head, and swiftly flew right into the net.

With three-two-one seconds, the match was over. 

5-4, UTokyo’s win.

The final whistle blew, and for a moment, there was silence. As if the world paused to catch its breath. Then, all at once, the crowd erupted with glee that shook the entire stadium at its core. Flags waving, scarves held high, toasts of beer held up to the sky, it was deafening, and it almost makes you want to cry. Thousands of voices shouting in unison, celebrating the hard-fought victory of their school’s team. A type of pride that was fostered, and well-deserved, and long-lived.

You quickly glance towards the field again, and see Gojo standing right at the same spot where he had kicked the last and final goal, staring towards the net. You can’t see the expression on his face, but it surprises you how still he is. Like a statue, staring at the goal with the ball tucked into its corner. The very epitome of what it means to succeed in this sport was right in front of him, and it seemed like he wanted to soak the visual in for as long as he could.

His trance is abruptly interrupted when his teammates swarm in, rushing over like a wave of pure adrenaline. They slap him on the back, ruffle his hair, shout his name, the sounds of gleeful disbelief mixed with exhausted sighs of relief swarming into the air. And Gojo finally melts away from the tension of the match and into the celebration as he weakly returns the embraces of his teammates while he catches his breath. 

“IT’S OFFICIAL!! IT’S OFFICIAL!! UTOKYO’S VERY OWN GOJO SATORU HAS OBLITERATED OSAKA UNIVERSITY’S RECORD FOR MOST GOALS SCORED BY A SINGLE PLAYER IN A CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH!!” 

The speakers are blaring the voices of the sports announcers, along with ambient music to match the intensity of the match that everyone had just witnessed. 

You should probably be doing your job. You know, take a picture of the huddle of players on the field as they bask in the glory of a close victory, but instead your feet start moving on their own. Like a magnet drawn to him, you make your way towards Gojo, only a slight hesitation in your step as you stop about ten feet away, suddenly unsure. But when he makes eye contact with you, all that fear melts away.

He hastily pats the backs of some of his teammates, acknowledging their praise at the center of the huddle before tightly squeezing past them to make his way over to you. Your heart is beating fast in your chest, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of pride in your school’s team, but more importantly, in him. What was the acceptable thing to do? Run to him, into his arms, and hug him while he twirls you around? Tackle him to the grassy ground? Kiss him like your life depended on it? You have no clue what the acceptable or sane or normal thing to do is. But he’s made his decision for you when he walks right up to you, his hands holding your waist as he pulls you towards him. He smells earthy, of grass and salt and sweat and of all the hard work he poured into today, the wear and tear of the game evident in the wear and tear of his jersey. He only manages to huff out an exhale at the sight of you, like some relief washing over him just by looking into your eyes. Forget the fact that the crowd was all watching and that all of the screens you could see past his head were focused on the two of you, because all you could hear or see or think was him.

“I believe you owe me a kiss,” he says, huffing as he catches his breath but that doesn’t stop the smile that makes its way onto his face.

You nod your head, giving him your own version of a sweet smile as your arms slide up past his shoulders, crossing behind his neck, and he leans down to kiss you.

You hear a swell from the crowd, some teasing comments off in the distance from some of his teammates, you’re pretty sure you hear Coach Yaga yelling at him to get back to the benches, but it all melts away with the feeling of him smiling against your lips as he kisses you at the center of this stadium.

It was a moment so pure, so sweet, so picture perfect, and for once, you’re not the one behind the camera taking the photo. You’re the one that’s in it.

.

.

.

.

.

[end of kickoff ch12]

a/n. aaa thanks a lot for reading!! pls the fucking public stripping scene was so stupid i apologize on behalf of kickoff gojo for his behavior 😂😂 i’ll put him in his cage dw this chapter had some of what i consider to be the most challenging aspects of writing for me (internal conflict, grand public gesture, sports jargon) and so writing it felt like an uphill battle the ENTIRE time i wrote it and edited it. i considered scrapping it sooo many times cuz i just wasn't happy w it...but whatever i can't expect to be 100% happy w every chapter i put out there haha. i think kickoff has become a lil sacred for me since i've been working on it for a while now but likeee...sometimes u just gotta say fuck it we ball (tbh kickoff gojo probably says that to himself before a match) anywho, i am veryy thoroughly excited for what i've got planned for the chapters to follow, especially moving into the last angsty arc before the end of the series!! so i look forward to picking up momentum w this series again :0 honestly chapters 10 through 12 were the most difficult things i've written so far for a lot of reasons, but i have a feeling things will go more smoothly for me creatively going forward since what i've got planned falls well within my writing comfort range oh also there seems to be a little confusion about the number of chapters left, as i know i had originally said 12, but i anticipate that there will be about 18 chapters of kickoff total!! so still around six chapters left before the end :)) much lovee thanks for reading!!

OH WAIT ONE LAST NOTE I'M SORRY i didn’t really have a way of organically incorporating this into the story n i’m not sure if i’ll get a chance to in the upcoming chapters, so i just wanted to share this part of ch7 (gojo’s pov chapter) that is relevant to this chapter:

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant. 

the record that gojo broke in this chapter is the same record that his father almost broke before he got the call that he was going to be a dad :0 

➸ you're all caught up!

additional notes. please do not pressure me for updates or ask when i will next update (read rules); taglist is currently closed (consider subscribing to the story on my ao3 for email updates if you'd like! :0)

taglist:

@megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed

@wynney @delulux3 @higurumapet @zombriesworld @xenop0p

@phoenix-eclipses @who-can-touch-my-boob @mo0nforme @reagan707 @lost-resonance

@foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @beabadobeee @thexmistress

@tsukikourito @pickuptruck01 @gabriiiiiiii @4y3sh4 @tiredflame132

@cliosunshine @btszn @izayas-rings @semra4 @ethereally-lyann

@drthymby @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010

@joemama-2 @horisdope @banenemilk @nanasukii28 @spindyl

@ri-sa20 @thexmistress @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @sashisuslover

@chwesuh-imnida @megumisthirdog @imjustaweirdnerd @angelicscribe

[taglist is closed]

[rafey-baby]

hidden

outlaw!rafe holding pogue!reader hostage in her own house after banging his fist on her door in the middle of a stormy night, demanding to be let in with a gun in hand and wild waves in the sea of his eyes…

c/w: outlaw!rafe being mean and manipulative, mentions of murder, violence & other dark themes, he’s also weirdly soft in the end? 18+ mdni!

wc: 2k

he's been stuck in my head for a while so hope u enjoy xx

part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There’s still sleep dust lingering in her lashes when she hesitantly cracks open the door at 3 am— revealing a tall, scary man with scarlet stains on his big hands, white button up saturated in maroon and a scowl painted over his unsettling countenance.  

She stands there like a deer in headlights, unmoving as he stares down at her with arctic eyes as chilling as the frigid waters surrounding an iceberg.  

At first, she thinks she’s still asleep, tired brain conjuring up some creepy murderer scenario where she’s the idiot who does everything the audience in the movie theater is screaming at her not to.

But as she properly blinks her sleepy eyes open, she comes to the realization that this is not a horror film and this intimidating stranger (with oddly appealing features) who’s definitely just killed someone is very much real.  

She’s about to open her mouth and she’s not sure whether she was going to scream for help or simply stare at him with her mouth hung open in shock but she doesn’t get the chance to find out before he’s pasting a massive palm over her mouth.  

“Don’t make a sound,” his low mutter makes a shiver run down her spine. 

And she doesn’t, instead she just blinks, too out of it to even move a muscle; the reek of the dried blood on his hand hitting her nose, making her face scrunch up. And she doesn’t know why she’s not putting up any sort of a fight, blaming it on the fact that half of her brain is still swimming in the lake of her dreamland; soaking up the glittering sunbeams that never dull and dipping its toes in the grass that consists of misty nebula and twinkling stars. 

And he’s just so mean, ordering her around with a gun to her head, manhandling her around to his liking, grumbling about needing to stay at her house for a bit since he needs a hiding place from the cops after dumping a body somewhere in the ocean and getting caught. Apparently, his temper really just got the best of him at times.  

“I didn’t even mean to kill the guy, alright. He just kept pissing me off on purpose and I was provoked, what was I supposed to do?” He offers as an explanation that seems to do very little to soothe her overstrung heart that’s thudding in her ribcage. It’s loud enough for him to hear; almost as if she’s a terrified rabbit and he’s a big bad wolf, hunting down his prey.  

“I’m taking a shower now, and you’re not gonna move an inch, you understand? Cause if you do, I’m gonna have to hurt you, and I really don’t wanna do that, okay?” 

She nods her head, unable to form any coherent sentences. 

He takes note of the way her inhale gets caught in her throat when he steps closer to her, inquiring whether she lives alone or not, to which she just nods her head again.  

“Dumb girl”, he tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. “When someone’s knocking on your door in the middle of the night you don’t fucking open, alright?”  

She’s making it entirely too easy for him.  

The second he’s in her bathroom, she forces her exhausted brain to think; quickly coming up with a rickety plan as she listens to the water streaming down from behind the door. She waits for a moment, making sure the coast is clear before she bolts towards her bedroom, trembling fingers grabbing her phone from her nightstand and trying to dial 911.  

However, her shaky hands don’t help her one bit when they drop the phone; the clattering sound of it hitting the floor echoing in the quietness of the room.  

She can’t breathe, her brain short-circuits as she bends down, reaching for the wretched device that has somehow tumbled under her bed. However, when she finally catches it in an unsteady grip, she hears the shower turn off; an eerie stillness following. In her state of panic, she fruitlessly tries to turn it back on and call for help but it’s proving to be harder than she thought when her lungs decide to stop working, her respiration shallow and her heartbeat ringing in her ears.  

“Boo,” a low whisper right behind her makes her blood run cold; a shiver traveling down her spine as she slightly jumps, a faint gasp leaving her.  

“Why did you just do that, huh? Told you, didn’t wanna fucking hurt you and then you go and pull this shit,” a strong hand is gripping her by her throat as he turns her around to face him.  

“I’m sorry, I...I don’t—” she’s paralyzed, unable to move.  

“You don’t what, huh?” He stares into her horror-stricken eyes with an almost bored look, seemingly entirely indifferent to her torment.  

“Can’t…can’t breathe,” her voice is nearly inaudible, making a grim chuckle bubble out of his chest.  

“Can’t breathe? Maybe you should’ve thought about that before, yeah?” He scoffs, cruel words mocking her.  

“You’re so fucking stupid, want me to kill you, is that what you want?” He grits out as he squeezes at her neck, making her feel dizzy; gasping for air.  

“No! No, please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Won’t— won’t do it again, promise, I’ll do anything—” she manages to force out as he’s nearly crushing her windpipe in his unrelenting grip.  

“Anything, huh? That’s real tempting and all but what I need you to do is not pull stupid shit like this, you understand?”  

“I won’t, I promise. You can...stay here for as long as you want and I’ll help, okay?” she thinks she’s gonna pass out soon, stars peppering behind her fluttering lids and her weakened limbs starting to feel heavy. His coarse panting fills her eardrums as he seems to contemplate her offer for a moment.  

“If you even think about running to the cops tonight, I’m gonna fucking find you, you understand?” 

She’s frantically nodding her head and at last, his hold begins to loosen around her trachea, allowing for her greedy lungs to finally suck in air as she takes a step back, trying to even out her respiration.  

He doesn’t say anything, silently observing her as she clears her throat, swallowing a few times as she tries to pacify her racing heart and calm the thoughts running around her head; trying to reassure herself that she’s still alive and she will stay that way if she just doesn’t rile him up anymore.  

He notices how her rounded eyes look up at him as he stands before her, smelling like her honey-scented body wash and orange blossom shampoo, nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, leaving very little to her imagination as the room grows quiet.  

“What’s— um…what’s your name?” Her voice is creaky when she tries a different approach once she feels the flat floorboards under her wobbly feet again, a nervous hesitation overlaying her precarious question.  

“Don’t worry about it,” he simply dismisses her, but a small pout molds her mouth as she stares at him and he lets out a discontented sigh, rolling his eyes.  

“Rafe,” he finally responds, not bothering to ask for hers, seemingly not caring enough for it. She tells him, nonetheless and he laughs at her priorities. A literal criminal has broken into her home and she cares about fucking introductions.  

“So…have you— have you killed anyone else?” She doesn’t know why she’s trying to make small talk with him but she supposes if she gets him to talk about something, choking her to death won’t be at the forefront of his mind anymore.  

“You seriously wanna know?” He raises his brows. 

She thinks about it for a moment and then settles on shaking her head, followed by a harsh chuckle rumbling out from his sturdy chest.  

“So, uh— what is it that you do? Like besides…killing people and stuff?” She tries once more.  

“Look, the less you know, the better, alright?” He simply states, making her let out a soft sigh in defeat.  

All of a sudden, a vigorous thunder crackles behind her windows, an ablaze lightning illuminating her dimly lit bedroom soon after.  

She flinches at the sound and the sinister way it momentarily lights up his face.  

“You scared of a little storm?” He feigns concern as he peers down at her.  

“N— no,” she lies, forcing her face to stay neutral, hesitant about him finding out her weaknesses.  

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe, yeah?” The mocking grin on his face causes a shudder to travel through her as she swallows, wishing this was all just a nightmare she could wake up from.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

After that little incident, he thinks that she’s just as sweet as sugar, offering to make him tea and asking if he wants a blanket or an extra pillow so he’d be more comfortable sleeping on the couch.  

He can tell that she’s merely doing it because she’s terrified of him, which she should be. Nonetheless, he thinks it feels nice to be pampered, doted on; to have a pretty girl following his orders like a trained puppy. Makes him figure he's gonna enjoy his stay just fine.  

The following morning though, he’s woken up by her shaky figure standing next to his own tired form, pointing his gun at him.  

His softened bones feel mellow from the sleep and he lets out a sigh, rubbing at his sleepy eyes and shifts to sit on the couch cushions; teasingly lifting his hands up in surrender. 

“Puppy’s got a gun, huh? Trying to be all tough now, are we?” There’s a lazy smile on his face.  

“I— I want you to…leave,” she says, voice rickety and words unsure.  

And he’s trying to take her serious, he really is, but it’s proving to be a little difficult since she resembles a scared little kitten more than someone who knows what they’re doing.  

“You want me to leave? Maybe you should work on your pitch, I’m not very convinced, you know?” The exasperating smirk plastered on his face makes her brows crease.  

“Rafe, this is not a joke,” a scowl shades her face and he thinks she looks rather adorable.  

“Come on, Puppy. You’re not gonna shoot me. You don’t even know how to use that thing, do you?” His voice is even; she hesitates. 

“Well, it can’t be that…complicated?” It’s more of a question than a statement and he really can’t keep the chuckle from bubbling out of his throat. Her frown deepens.  

“Why don’t you give it to me, yeah? You don’t want death on your conscience. Would break you, you’re too soft for that shit.”  

“You don’t— know me.” 

“I know you enough,” he says, finally standing on his feet. He takes a slow step towards her and she squeezes the gun tighter in her trembling fingers.  

“If I give it to you, you’re gonna— you’re gonna…kill me. I don’t wanna die,” her words are hysterical, rushed.  

“Now who said anything about killing you? Look, if you give me the gun right now, I’m not gonna do anything. I give you my word, alright?” He’s towering over her, solid chest nearly grazing the barrel.  

“I don’t trust you,” her voice is a whisper.  

“I know, Pup. But I also know that you’re not gonna use that,” his steady hands are a contrast to her own precarious ones when he grabs for the firearm, slipping it from her weak fingers with ease.  

“There we go, no need to be so fucking theatrical, yeah?” He lowers his head in order to lock his eyes with her frenzied ones.  

“See? Not hurting you, am I?”  

She manages out a hum of agreement and then her waterline is brimming with water, salty droplets trickling down her cheeks as she chokes out a sob. “I’m sorry. I don’t—”  

“Hey, hey it’s all good. Mistakes happen, yeah?” He says and then his strong arms are wrapping around her trembling form because he’s not a complete monster and for some reason that makes her weep harder.  

Her crocodile tears wet his shirt but he doesn’t seem to mind, big paw rubbing against her back. And it’s almost…comforting, she thinks as he starts to sway her from side to side, like he’s trying to calm down a crying child.  

“There you go, just let it all out and maybe you can chill out a bit, yeah? You Pogues can be so fucking dramatic sometimes,” he pats at her back, rolling his eyes as she takes in shaky inhale after shaky inhale until she’s feeling slightly more placid.  

“Shit, if I’d known you were such a crybaby I would’ve picked another house,” he grumbles, pulling away from her weakened form before pushing her back to stumble on her feet— setting the gun back onto the coffee table with a clank. 

[nerdygirlramblings]

more omegaverse 141

You've been on base nearly six weeks and finally feel like you're setting into a routine. You get yourself up early, training yourself or your squad. You know omegas in active duty still carry a stigma, so you do your work before anyone else is up. No need trying to fight for a stall on the gun range against a bunch of alphas who don't believe you belong, or work in the gym to the whispers you know follow you everywhere. Better to get it done where they don't see.

You try to minimize your footprint on base, staying out of other soldiers' way and wearing scent blockers. You don't need to draw more attention to yourself. You're glad your work speaks for itself, but even that puts a target on your back.

You've already been approached by two alphas wanting to make you their pack omega. Both were clear, though, that they held traditional pack views. One was even ballsy enough to tell you you'd have your first pups within a year of his claiming.

He'd been stupid enough to bring all this up while sparring with you, expecting to prove he was better than you.

He ended up in medical with a broken nose and dislocated shoulder.

Price heard about these run-ins too and knew he needed to approach you differently, so when he sets his tray down a few seats from you at breakfast, you're not instantly wary. He glances at you as he eats, noting the array of fruits and protein on your tray. He appreciated that you ate healthy; it spoke volumes about how you'd play into pack dynamics.

He waits until you're nearly done to clear his throat and get your attention. You were the only two at the table, but that wasn't too uncommon. You knew your squad listened during trainings, but you weren't sure they entirely respected you, and with most of them betas, you understood the stigma that might follow them if they chose to socialize with you outside of trainings.

Price offers his wrist and waits. You look from Price's hand to his face and back before gently picking his hand up and smelling it. The light scent of smoldering embers and dying leaves and that unmistakable scent of alpha hits your nose. He smells like autumn, and you're momentarily disarmed.

"Cap'n John Price," he tells you. "Word 'a yer skill's makin' it's way 'round base." You make a noncommittal noise at that. You can only imagine the stories being told about you among the higher-ranking officers. "Got a proposition fer ya." You watch him, equal parts curious and wary. "Yer skills are just what my task force needs. 'Specially your work with ammunition. My sergeant said ya grouped head shots and center mass shots with three separate weapons."

You shrug. "Never saw the point in just gettin' good with one weapon, sir."

"And that's why 'm here," he says. "Wanna offer you a spot on the 141."

Your eyes widen and your breath catches. "What..." You've heard of task force 141. They're practically legends on base. "Are you... I mean..."

Your brain comes back online as you realize this isn't an alpha trying to breed you, this is a Captain building a strong, specialized group of soldiers, and he wants you to be part of it. There would be no higher complement, and no better way to prove omegas could be just as good in the field as betas and alphas. You quickly pull yourself together.

"That would be...it's an honor, sir. Thank you."

He watches your entire conflict and asks, clarifying, "So tha's a yes?"

"Yes, sir!" you reply enthusiastically.

next

[rafeandonlyrafe]

first moments

words: 1.5k

warnings: mom!reader, dad!rafe, established relationship, brief hospital setting, anxiety (from rafe)

“rafe, wanna do chest to chest?” you hum, eyes mostly closed, the exhaustion from labor still affecting you.

“i…” he stares at you, and then at your son, resting against your chest, maternity dress pulled open so he's against your skin, his face resembling the exact same one rafe makes when he's sleeping. “its okay, you keep holding him.”

“okay.” you say, looking down at your son. it didn't take you long to decide on a name. leon andres cameron. leon after rafes grandfather and andres after your own. a good strong family name. 

“he's so perfect.” rafe whispers, his voice cracking slightly.

“come closer.” you beckon, rafe moving his chair closer, but still keeping his distance, making you frown. “what's wrong?”

rafes mouth opens, but no words come out. you pause, hand petting over leons back.

“wait…” your mind starts to piece together, still foggy from the delivery and drugs. “you haven't held him yet.”

“i-” rafe stumbles over his words, knowing he's been caught. “i can't. he's too tiny. too perfect. i-i don't want to ruin him.”

“ruin him?” you frown. “rafe, you're his father. get over here.”

you struggle to scooch over on the hospital bed, but manage to make room for rafe to sit down next to you. he even sits carefully, gnawing at his lip as you turn leon over, keeping him asleep as you turn him face up, supporting his neck the whole time.

“just cradle your arms. it's okay, you'll get used to it.” you watch as rafe moves his arms before placing leon in them, having to cover your mouth when the sudden urge to cry hits you, leon looking even smaller being held by your husband.

“i love him.” rafe whispers, voice cracking, a few tears sliding down his cheeks. “i love him so much.”

“look how relaxed he is in your arms.” you coo. “i knew you'd be a good dad.”

--

“god, im so nervous.” rafe looks in the backseat where you’re sitting, leon buckled tight into the carseat.

“its okay.” you hum, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “just drive slow.” “yeah, of course.” rafe nods. he barely puts the car above 15 miles per hour the entire ride home. leon thankfully stays asleep, you’re not sure if you could have handled just leaving the hospital and having him crying on the way home.

“okay, here.” rafe takes a deep breath as he pulls the car into the garage.

“you got his carseat?” you ask. your body is still recovering from birth, and you’re not sure if you can lift anything up without tearing.

“yeah.” rafe undoes the carseat carefully as you get out and unlock the house, happy to be home after two days spent in the hospital.

“mmm.” you breathe in the fresh air. “my eyes are so happy after all that fluorescent light.”

“um- watch out baby.” rafe hates having to have you move out of the way so quickly, but he can hear leon beginning to fuss and needs to get him inside.

you giggle and step away, watching as rafe quickly rushes to unbuckle him. he looks to you to get him out of the carrier, but you allow rafe to scoop him up, shushing him and gently rocking him back and forth.

--

“i got it.” rafe offers.

“no, he's hungry.” you groan, already feeling your breasts swelling with milk just from hearing his cry. “i can tell.”

“im sorry, baby.” rafe sighs, staying in bed as he tries to get back to sleep. no point having both of you completely exhausted.

you manage to settle leon, feeding him in the rocking chair rafe got you before you gave birth. he almost wakes when you transfer him back to the crib, but you get him down and back to rafe, crawling into bed next to him.

“i wish i could do more.” rafe sighs. so much of you is required from leon, not just the pregnancy but now needing to feed him. rafe tries to take care of anything else you could need, but he struggles with not knowing how to do things as basic as changing diapers.

“you're learning fast, rafe. it's okay.” you move closer so rafe can hold you, snuggling into your back, his hand gently rubbing over your hip.

“i don't deserve you.” you know it's just the exhaustion talking. you grip his hand in yours, squeezing three times, saying the words without needing to speak.

“we should sleep while he's asleep.” you say, rafe nodding and pressing kisses to your shoulders and upper back until you're pulled back to sleep.

--

“shh, leon, it's okay.” rafe looks around for you, surely you must have heard leons cries. you said you'd be just a minute, running to the beauty aisle to grab your conditioner before returning to rafe shopping for groceries.

rafe pushes the brim of the carrier back, his heart breaking as his sons little face scrunches with big tears rolling down his cheeks.

rafe isn't sure what to do, so he just lets his instincts guide him as he quickly undoes the seatbelt and lifts leon into his chest, being careful to hold his head just as you instructed.

the second leon is against rafes, his cries lessen, and then all together subside as rafe bounces gently.

“is he okay?” rafe looks up to see you hustling down the aisle towards him.

“yeah, he was upset but i got him.” rafe pats leons back gently, turning his head to press a kiss against his cheek.

“okay.” you let out a sigh of relief, tossing your conditioner into the grocery cart. “want me to take him?”

“no, im good.” rafe shifts leon a little as you start to walk, pushing the carrier and loading the bottom up with more groceries, especially all the things you couldn't have while pregnant but are now safe despite still breastfeeding.

rafe doesn't miss the way you keep looking over at him with light in your eyes, excitement evident at seeing how comfortable rafe is becoming with leon held snuggly in his arms.

--

“are you sure?” you ask, frowning as your eyes flicker between leon laying on the couch cushion and rafe sitting next to him, focus on your baby as he makes silly faces at him.

“baby, i know i struggled at first, but this is one weekend. you have plenty of milk pumped. ill be fine.” rafe scoops leon into his arms as he stands, walking towards you.

“besides, if i need help i can always call your mom. even wheezie, you know she'll be happy to see leon.” rafe shifts the baby to one arm while his free hand comes to cup your cheek. “go. please, i will miss you and leon will too, but you deserve a break.”

“okay.” you nod, getting on your tip toes to press a kiss to rafes lips before also kissing leon, who lets out a familiar cooing sound.

“im gonna text my girls.” you can't hide the excitement in your voice, pulling out your phone to confirm you'll be able to go to the girls spa weekend away. 

“i want nightly face times with you though baby.” you poke leons little nose, whose cheeks stretch into a smile.

--

“oh my god, rafe, is everything okay?” you squeal, squinting at the screen as if it'll somehow make leon appear.

“yes! fine, i promise.” rafe points the camera down so you can see leon happily on his lap, already looking tired as bedtime is quickly approaching.

“why didn't you pick up the first time?” you ask, a lot calmer now that you have eyes on your baby.

“leon and i were just getting home. i took him to the park. he couldn't really do anything but be in the carrier but he liked watching the other kids play.” rafe looks down at leon, giving him a little tickle under the chin. “isn't that right buddy?”

“did you-”

“yes, i put sunscreen on him. and he wore a hat. and-” rafe stresses before you can interrupt. “i reapplied sunscreen after an hour.”

“you're the best.” you smile. “you know i never doubted you rafe, it's just-” you take a deep sigh. “i worry so much about him. and making sure he's happy.”

“and he is.” rafe assured you. “look at his little face.”

you feel tears well up in your eyes as you look at your husband and your son, snuggled together on the couch. you quickly take a screenshot while they both have smiles on their faces.

“you're such a good mama. leons lucky to have you, and so am i.”

the tears are now falling down your cheeks as you smile. “i love you.”

“i love you too. and we miss you, but go enjoy your night with the girls!”

“okay.” you nod. “you're right. ill be home tomorrow around noon.”

“got it.” rafe holds the camera closer to leon. “say bye bye to mommy, leon.”

the call ends with his smiling face looking back at yours.

sfw taglist: @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen

[erwinsvow]

I LOVEEE WIFEY READER i wanna be rafes perfect little housewifey..

girl me!!! me asf!!!!!!!!! this is the most shy reader concept i think she is very content to be a housewife and have lots of kids running around and she kind of drifts off and fantasizes about it a lot..

you often drift away into your own thoughts, something rafe has gotten used to by now. he doesn't need to snap you out of it—infact, he doesn't like to, since he thinks it's better to leave you in your thoughts than worrying about something once he brings you back to the real world.

so watching you now, perched on the chair by his window, your book abandoned on your lap and staring out the window, he doesn't know why he does it.

"kid. kid." you still don't hear him so he gets up, leaving his laptop and papers behind on the desk and getting closer to where you are. the sun coming in through the window feels warm, yet you look perfectly comfortable, perfectly content. rafe puts a hand on your knee and the other on the windowsill, boxing you in.

"what're you thinkin' about, huh?" rafe asks, and you look up at him right away. your breathing picks up when you see how close he is, feeling a little silly for not realizing this entire time.

you stay like that—staring up at him, the vision of the scene you were just daydreaming flooding back. your pretty boyfriend as your pretty husband, a house like tannyhill of your own, all the time with rafe that you could possibly imagine.

"n-nothing," you finally reply, remembering rafe had asked a question.

"nothin'? yeah?" you nod in agreement, not entirely sure what you're agreeing to. your head feels a little fuzzy still, but it doesn't take rafe long. he looks back out the window, in the direction you had been looking. there's a clear view of the neighbor's yard, little kids running around while mom and dad chase them.

rafe's not stupid, but when it comes to matters concerning you, he's something of a genius. two and two come together quickly, the flushed way you look up at him and whatever dream you were picturing coming into his own mind too.

"cute kids, huh?"

you nod again, heartbeat picking up though you're not sure why. yet. rafe leans in, his arms still surrounding you like a trap. everything feels more intense when he's like this.

"i bet ours would be cuter, right?" your lips part in surprise by themselves—staring back and blinking quickly. you nod. "like that, wouldn't you?"

rafe's hand finally leaves the window and joins his other one on your legs, stroking up and down. you turn to look down but can't help looking into his eyes again immediately after.

"i asked you a question."

"yes. yes, um, i-"

"knew you would. a whole bunch of kids and nothin' else to worry about, right?"

you look up, your own eyes melting while you stare at his, wondering when you had stopped telling rafe things, realizing he understood you even without words.

"except you. you and the kids." you don't even realize the words slipped out—still feeling like too much. your cheeks burn, thinking you just said something you shouldn't have.

"good girl. c'mon, on the bed. gotta start with one, right?"

[inkirasity]

JIN ENJOJI X READER | non-consensual clothing removal. implied assault. slight manga spoilers about Jiji. 3.4k wc

“Wanna go out and stargaze?” That’s what Jiji said before the both of you were chased down by blood sucking aliens. “I’m never going out stargazing with you again!” you screamed at his ear as the both of you ran away from the aliens. “I’m sorryyy!”

“Hey, gimme that crab leg!” Momo yelled, as she tried to take a plate from grandma Seiko.

“Quit it kid, I paid for this!”

The two brawled at the table, leaving you, Okarun and Turbo Granny trying to eat peacefully.

Okarun let out a sight, glancing between Momo and Grandma Seiko as they wrestled over the crab leg. Plates clattered and the table shook under the petty chaos but neither of them showed any sign of backing down.

“You guys do this every time,” Okarun muttered, shaking his head as he poked his food. “Can’t we have a normal meal?”

You could only shake your head, while Turbo Granny cackled beside him, already halfway through a plate stacked high with food for a small lucky cat. “Let ‘em fight! Adds flavor to the meal!” she said, her sharp toothy grin stretching wide as she shoved more food into her mouth.

Momo finally managed to grab the crab leg, only for Seiko to counter by whacking her on the head with her hand.

“Ow! That’s dirty fighting!” Momo protested, rubbing her head.

“All’s fair in love and seafood!” Seiko shot back, snatching the crab leg back on triumph. “This is mine!”

Okarun sighed, again, pushing his plate away. “I’m starting to think I should’ve stayed home.”

“Momo, you can take my crab leg instead.” you pushed your plate towards her, her eyes shined like stars as she hugged you.

“My only loving cousin who is blood related to me actually cares for me, unlike that hag over there!”

“Who you sayin’ hag, huh?!”

“Ow ow ow! My ear!”

Both of them started bickering again, you could only give Okarun a small apology for seeing your family like this. He shyly waved it off, taking his food again and continued eating again. Before you could take a bite of your food, you heard a knock on the door. You quietly excused yourself as the both still brawled as you walked towards the door to see who’s outside at this hour. Opening it, you were greeted by a familiar face.

“Hello, kawaii-chan!” Jiji greeted you with a smile.

“Jiji! Why are you out here at this hour?” you asked, surprised by his visit.

He took something from his back and showed a plastic bag.

“Mom asked me to give this to your aunt—”

“Grandma.”

“G-grandma, she made too many and we couldn’t finish it with just the three of us so we got the extras for you!”

You gratefully took the plastic bag from Jiji, “Do you want to come in?”

“Uhhh actually… I wanna ask you if you wanna stargaze, tonight.” he looked away, pink blush coloring his cheeks. But you somehow didn’t notice.

“Oh, sure! I’ll put this inside and change—”

“But your clothes are decent enough though,” Jiji interrupted, pointing at your uniform.

He wasn’t wrong. You’re still in your school uniform since you usually eat first before changing into pajamas.

You shrugged, “Sure, I’ll tell Granny that I’ll go out.”

You offered Jiji to enter the house even joining in the dining area with the four but he politely refused. 

Upon entering the dining room, the scene hadn’t changed much. Momo and Seiko were still bickering, their voices loud enough to echo through the house. Okarun however, was now unconscious on the floor with a bump on his head and Turbo Granny laughing.

You sighed, shaking your head as you placed the bag on the table, “Oi, I’ll be going out with Jiji tonight. Don’t do anything weird at this house.”

Before they could even give you a response, you’ve already left.

“That was quick.” Jiji said as you were putting your shoes on.

“Nah, they were fighting over a crab leg so I just told them I’m going out with you and left.” you responded, taking a step outside the house.

“So, where are we goin’?”

The cliff overlooked Kamikoshi City, the entire landscape spread out beneath you like a glowing painting. The city lights sparkled across the skyline, casting a soft glow over the distant buildings and streets. Each flicker and glimmer seemed to pulse with life, creating a breathtaking view that drew a gasp from you.

“This is… amazing,” you murmured, feeling the cool night breeze brush against your skin. The vastness of it all, the contrast between the peaceful night sky and the bustling city below, was overwhelming in the best way.

Jiji stood beside you, hands in his pockets, smiling at your reaction. “Yeah, I thought you’d like it,” he said, before stepping closer.

He then placed his hand on your head, tilting it upward. “But look at this,” he added. Above, the stars twinkled like tiny diamonds scattered across the midnight sky, their light seemingly to pulse with an ethereal glow. 

The sight was mesmerizing, the stars stretching endlessly into the distance. “Holy shit…” you whispered, captivated by the beauty of the midnight sky.

Jiji chuckled softly beside you, lowering his hand. “Told you.”

As your eyes glued at the sky, Jiji cleared his throat. “Uh, I have something to say to you,” he mumbled.

“Hm?” You pulled your gaze away from the sky, turning to face him. The sight that greeted you was unexpected—Jiji’s face was flushed a deep red, like he’d just stepped out of a sauna. His usual carefree demeanor was replaced with visible tension, and he couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “What’s up?”

Jiji fidgeted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… uh…” He trailed off, his nervousness intensifying. His usual confidence seemed to evaporate in the cool night air, leaving him at a loss for words.

“Jiji—”

You paused mid-sentence, your heart suddenly racing as you caught sight of something lurking behind Jiji. A faint, blue glow flickered in the shadows of the trees, two piercing eyes that seemed to watch you intently.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you instinctively took a step back, feeling a chill run down your spine. He turned, following your gaze, and his expression shifted from confusion to alarm as he spotted the glowing eyes.

“What the hell is that?” Jiji muttered, his flusterness momentarily vanishing.

The eyes narrowed, and you could feel a sense of dread creeping closer. Whatever it was, it wasn’t friendly. You instinctively moved closer to Jij.

He felt you draw closer. Without thinking, he turned and pulled you behind him, his grip firm as he shielded you with his body. His grip on you never loosened.

Before either of you could react, a long, metallic tentacle shot out from the shadows, wrapping around your ankle. Panic surged through you as it yanked you off your feet, dragging you towards the darkness of the trees.

“Hey! No!” Jiji shouted, instinctively lunging forward but the distance was too great.

You clawed at the dirt, desperate not to be dragged into the unknown. While you were being dragged, you saw a branch. Quickly taking it, you then jabbed it to the tentacle resulting in letting you go.

Footsteps quickly went up to you and held both of your arms and helped you stand up to your feet.

Jiji huffed, “We need to get out of here—”

Before he could finish his sentence, another tentacle shot out from the shadows, snaking around his waist and lifting him off the ground. He let out a startled gasp, eyes wide with shock as he dangled helplessly in the air.

“Jiji!” you screamed, your heart racing as panic surged through you. You reached out instinctively, but the distance between you felt overwhelming.

As the creature stepped out of the shadows, your breath caught in your throat. It was a metallic alien, its body shimmering under the faint moonlight, revealing a sleek, elongated form covered in glinting scales. Its eyes glowed with a menacing blue light, illuminating its sharp, angular features.

“Foolish humans,” it spoke, its voice echoing unnaturally, reverberating in the still night air. “I need female blood to sustain myself… and a male genital. How lucky I am.”

“What’s with you aliens and private parts!” you shouted.

“Power,” it responded wickedly, sending shivers down your spine. “Now shut up, this won’t hurt.”

Before you could react, it lunged another tentacle toward you. It was too fast, ensnaring both of your arms and lifting you off the ground. You gasped, feeling the grip tighten around you like a vise.

Jiji's eyes widened in horror as he struggled against his own restraints. “Let her go!” he shouted with desperation, his voice breaking through the tension in the air.

The metallic alien turned its glowing gaze toward him, its expression unreadable but its intent clear. “Silence!” it hissed, the tentacles around you tightening as it drew you closer to its maw, the cold metal brushing against your skin.

As it drew nearer, the alien grumbled, “Your clothes are useless; the more skin exposed, the more places I can draw blood.”

With a swift motion, it tore the top of your uniform, leaving you exposed down to your bra. You gasped, horror and anger washing over you. “My uniform!” you shouted, kicking your legs frantically in a desperate attempt to break free. “You perv! That cost my week’s allowance!”

The alien’s glowing eyes narrowed, its metallic form looming over you with a chilling satisfaction. “Do not concern yourself with such trivial matters. Your pain will only serve to nourish me.”

“Shut up!” you spat back, anger rising within you. “You think you can just take whatever you want? I won’t let you!”

The alien ignored your words as it revealed more tentacles at its back, shutting you up in the process. This is it, it is your end.

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the pain you feared would come. Instead, to your shock, the alien released its grip on your arms, and you fell into someone’s waiting embrace.

“Gotcha!” came a familiar voice, warm and reassuring. You opened your eyes to see Jiji holding you securely in his arms.

“Jiji?! How—”

“I trained under your aun— I mean your grandma without needing the evil eye!” he declared, a grin breaking through the tension as he tightened his grip on you.

You remembered he did train under Granny Seiko. You looked at the side where the unconscious alien was and saw the ground dented.

Before you could speak, a blast cut you off not far from your position. You froze, heart racing as a UFO descended from the sky, its tentacles swaying ominously at its sides. To your horror, more aliens—similar to the one that had attacked you both—poured out of the craft, their glowing eyes scanning the area as they began to advance.

“We need to run! WE NEED TO RUN!” you screamed, adrenaline surging through you. You jumped out of Jiji’s arms and grabbed his hand, yanking him into a sprint.

The two of you dashed through the underbrush, branches whipping against your skin as you navigated the chaotic terrain. The sounds of the aliens behind you echoed in the night air, their guttural growls mixing with the rustle of leaves and the pounding of your heart.

You were now being chased by blood sucking aliens.

“I’m never going out stargazing with you again!” you screamed at his ear as the both of you ran away from the aliens.

“I’m sorryyy!” he cried out loud.

Jiji’s legs burned as he pushed himself to keep pace with you, heart racing more from fear than the sprint itself. “How was I supposed to know they’d come out of nowhere?” he wailed, his voice cracking as another alien screeched behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see one of the blood-sucking aliens close in, its grotesque, tentacles stretching unnaturally fast. “Less talking, more running!” you yelled, grabbing Jiji’s arm to yank him forward as he tripped over a rock.

“I really didn’t mean for this to happen,” he huffed, his breath ragged from the frantic sprint. “I just wanted us to have a chill night, look at the stars, maybe talk about—”

A sharp, hissing sound interrupted his apology as another alien leaped from a nearby tree, its glowing blue eyes locking onto both of you.

“Save it for after we survive!” you barked, dragging him down to the road you both took when you hiked to the cliff. Your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins as the aliens screeched louder, closing in from every direction.

Jiji stumbled again, nearly pulling you down with him. “Why do these things always happen when we hang out?!”

“I don’t know! But maybe we should stop hanging out!” you yelled, half-joking as you pushed yourself harder. Your legs burned, but the fear of those creatures fueled you.

A blast of energy hit the ground beside you, sending dirt and debris into the air. You barely dodged it, pulling Jiji out of harm's way. The cliff edge loomed nearby, but there was no time to admire the view.

“We need a plan!” Jiji shouted, glancing back at the approaching aliens. “We can’t outrun them forever!”

“You can do that laser beam shit right?!” you said, “I haven’t fully controlled my powers unlike Momo but I can push them into one line and you can blast them!”

Jiji's eyes widened as he stumbled, nearly tripping over a branch in his shock. “W-What?! I haven’t exactly mastered that yet!”

“We don’t have a choice!” you interrupted, yanking him back on track. “I’ll line them up. Just focus!”

The screeches from the aliens were growing louder, closer. You could practically feel their cold, metallic presence nipping at your heels.

“Alright,” Jiji huffed, swallowing his fear. “But if we die, I’m blaming you!”

You threw him a sharp look, “Just concentrate!”

Gathering your breath, you dug deep into your energy reserves, feeling a familiar warmth surge through your veins. You pivoted, locking your focus on the swarm of aliens behind you. With a fierce shove of your hand, you forced the air around them to compress, pushing them into a tight line like bowling pins. They writhed and screeched in response, tentacles flailing in resistance, but you held them there, your heart pounding from the strain.

“Now, Jiji!” you yelled, sweat beading down your forehead.

Jiji planted his feet, his expression grim as he raised his trembling hands toward the creatures. The familiar energy crackled around his palms, flickering uncertainty. For a second, you thought it wouldn’t work, but then—

A beam of bright energy shot from his palms, exploding into the air with a deafening roar. The blast surged forward, striking the trapped aliens and sending a shockwave that lit up the entire forest.

When the dust settled, the screeching had stopped. Only silence remained.

Jiji, breathless and wide-eyed, turned to you, a mix of awe and disbelief on his face. “Did… did that really just work?”

You exhaled heavily, releasing the tension in your body as you slumped down on a nearby rock. “Barely,” you muttered, staring at the smoking crater where the aliens once stood. "But we’re alive, so I’ll take it."

Jiji collapsed beside you, laughing weakly. “I need a nap.”

“Hey,” you raised the upper part of your body and faced him, “We need to go home first.”

He looked at you, then his eyes looked down. There was this unexplainable reaction from him as his face turned red again and looked away.

“Huh? What’s the matter?”

“You don’t have a top on…”

Your eyes widened as you followed Jiji’s gaze, realizing that your torn uniform had been left in shambles from the earlier attack. Heat flooded your cheeks as you instinctively crossed your arms over your chest.

“J-Jiji!” you sputtered, glaring at him as you quickly tried to cover yourself. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?!”

“I—I didn’t want to make it weird!” Jiji stammered, his face a deep shade of red as he kept his eyes firmly averted, staring intently at a nearby rock. “I mean, we were fighting for our lives! There wasn’t really time to—”

“Ugh, just—turn around or something!” you snapped, completely mortified.

Jiji awkwardly spun on his heel, back facing you as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, right! Sorry, my bad!”

You groaned in frustration but couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up despite the embarrassment. “This has officially been the weirdest night ever.”

“Agreed,” Jiji muttered, still bright red. “Here,” he draped his jacket over you.

You blinked in surprise as Jiji draped his jacket over your shoulders, the fabric still warm from his body.

“Thanks,” you muttered, pulling it tighter around yourself. The jacket was oversized on you, the sleeves dangling past your hands, but it was much better than nothing.

Jiji rubbed the back of his neck again, his usual energy replaced by an awkward tension. “No problem. I, uh, didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You nodded, you then remembered something. “Oh yeah, you wanted to say something?” you said, looking up to him.

Jiji froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as if he had forgotten all about what he had planned to say. His face turned red, again, and avoided eye contact, glancing everywhere except at you.

“Uh… yeah,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head nervously. “I… I wanted to tell you something earlier, before, you know—” he gestured vaguely at the destroyed cliffside and the direction the aliens had fled.

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Before the aliens attacked?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, taking a deep breath as if he were trying to summon all of his courage. “I just... I didn’t get the chance because of all the chaos, but I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now.”

You waited, your heart pounding slightly. “Tell me what?”

Jiji glanced at you briefly, then quickly looked away again. “I… I like you,” he finally blurted out, his voice rushed but genuine. “Like, more than just friends.”

“It’s almost midnight, where the hell is she?” Momo grunted, worry laced in her annoyed voice. “She haven’t exactly mas—”

A knock on the door cut Momo off, she hurriedly ran to the door and opened. Momo's eyes widened at the sight of you standing there, wrapped in Jiji’s oversized jacket, while Jiji stood awkwardly behind you, shirtless and looking very out of place. Her mouth hung open for a second, taking in the bizarre scene before her.

“What the—?” Momo blurted, her annoyance quickly shifting to shock. “Where the hell have you two been?!” she then looked at Jiji,  “And why are you half-naked?!”

You were too tired to speak, but you forced yourself anyway. “Long story… involving aliens. Again.”

Jiji scratched the back of his head, clearly embarrassed. “I can explain, but it’s not what it looks like!”

Momo crossed her arms, her expression a mix of disbelief and concern. “You’d better explain fast, because this is getting ridiculous.”

You pushed your cousin inside the house, “We’ll do that tomorrow, it’s super late.”

“Okay fine,” Momo huffed, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

As Momo disappeared into the house, you turned back to Jiji, exhaustion weighing on your shoulders. The events of the night were still catching up to you, and it felt like you could collapse at any moment.

Jiji shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, his face still slightly flushed. “So… would you still stargaze with me?” he said with a weak chuckle, trying to ease the tension.

“Of course, though the place should not be reeking of spirits and aliens.” you replied, putting your hands inside his borrowed jacket.

Jiji gave a soft smile, “No aliens and spirits, noted.”

“Yeah,” you replied, letting out a small, tired laugh. “Let’s save that for a less eventful night.”

For a moment, you both stood in the quiet hallway, the weight of the night hanging between you.

“Get some rest,” he finally said, his voice soft. “I’ll head home before your grandma decides I’m staying the night.” He offered a small, playful smile, but you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” You gave him a tired nod, then glanced toward the door. “Thanks again, Jiji. For… everything.”

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, smiling a little brighter. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re my… friend.” His voice faltered at the last word, and for a split second, something more flickered in his eyes before he quickly turned and headed toward the door.

As he opened it, a gust of cool night air swept in. “Goodnight,” he said, throwing a final wave over his shoulder before stepping outside.

You stood there for a moment longer, staring at the now-closed door, a strange mix of relief, exhaustion, and something unspoken settling in your chest.

“Hey, Jiji.”

“Yeah?”

“I like you too.”