#and then.... well. it got out of hand. as it usually does

[reignpage]

The More The Merrier

Summary: in which you find out for yourself the order the jjk men would take if they all wanted a taste of that cookie and, trust, they know how to get along well when you’re on the line…but are they getting along a little too well? Warning: porn with no plot, f!reader, dubcon?, orgy, sevensome, cunnilingus, tit slapping, spitting, dirty talk - praise and degradation, fingering, overstimulation, throat fucking, hand jobs, face slapping, dom!men, sub!choso, boobjob/paizuri, cum eating, homosexual moments ahem, SatoSugu, senses deprivation, voyeurism and exhibitionism, brief foot play, hair pulling, dumbification, brief mention of rimming, creampie, mentions of anal, throat bulging, uhhh I may or may not have bullied Choso in this fic sorry Choso fans, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna Word Count: 4k

“Oh, look, she’s shaking,” Satoru remarks at an intentionally obnoxious volume. He looks back down at your naked form, laid out all pretty for their feasting. “You cold?”

Light laughter ripples around the room. Their amused, mocking timbre tickles your skin. How you got here in the first place is impossible to say but the reality is clear – they, with their hungry, piercing stares roving your curves, will not let you go until they’ve had their fill. 

Suguru, long hair tied up so it won’t get in the way of the sadistic desires that courses through his veins, steps forward, running his smooth fingers down your torso, starting from the dip in your collarbone, down the valley between your breasts, the slope of your stomach, circling your belly button, and stopping at the highest peak of your mound. “Don’t be so mean, Satoru. You know weak little things like her can’t help it.”

“I’m mean?”

“Enough with the small talk. Are we fucking her or what?” Toji asks. Scar on plump lips stretching with his eager grin, he swings a heavy leg onto the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight. A large paw lands onto your breast, squeezing with no shame or restriction. He grunts. “Got a nice pair on ya, doll.”

A firm slap on your cheek startles you. It didn’t hurt but it did make heat rise to your face.

“He gave you a compliment. Where are your manners?” 

Wild, pink hair comes into view. So does a bone-chilling sneer. Sukuna looks thoroughly displeased as he scowls down at you. Volatile red eyes compel you to mumble out a hastily strung together, ‘thank you.’ The fire dies out, but not before they spark with satisfaction. 

Sighing, the salaryman drags your attention to him. He’s sitting in the corner, still in his work clothes, albeit suit jacket-less. Thick thighs threatening to burst out of the confines of his tailored trousers spread to reveal an impressive bulge that makes you salivate. The corner of his lips twitch. “We can’t all have our way with her at the same time. There should be an order to these things, no?”

Satoru sits at the foot of the bed, brushing a thumb over the bone in your ankle. “So, what? We do rock, paper, scissors to decide who goes first? I’m up for it but I'm not sure Kunapooh’s very fond of the idea.”

The ‘Kunapooh’ in question snarls. He looks murderous – more so than usual. Your hand rushes out and grips his wrist. He releases a tense breath, rolls his shoulders, and snatches his arm from your clutch, but not before he slaps your free breast just to watch it bounce. You have a feeling there’s gonna be a lot of that tonight.

Satoru’s shit-eating grin widens and he makes a clawed gesture at Sukuna, pairing it with a, ‘rawr.’

Eager to get back on track, Kento replies, “I don’t believe we need to resort to that. It seems clear to me that we all agree on who should have the honour of going first… I’m happy to go second or third.”

“Aw, no way. Why do virgins get special treatment?”

All eyes fall on the man standing awkwardly to the side, unsure of where to put his hands. Bare chested and hair tied in loose and messy pigtails, Choso looks out of place. You beckon him over with a smile. Silently, he lets you pull the waistband of his pants down. His cock springs out, hard and leaking already. To his credit, he doesn’t blush when the men laugh at him, far too captivated by the soft hand gliding up and down his long length. 

Toji huffs in amusement. “Seems like he’s in no rush to get in on this.”

Gruffly, Sukuna adds, “Pathetic fool’s not ready anyway.”

“Can I have his turn then? Since I’m the best, I should be number one in line.”

“Choso,” Kento says, still sitting in the chair and adjusting his glasses, “are you really content with just her hand, pretty as they are? Don’t let them bully you out of your right.”

He shakes his head, babbling and muttering, “Y-yes. I want to fuck her. I want to feel her pussy.”

Arm leaning on his best friend’s shoulder, the white-haired man jokes, “I bet two thousand yen he won’t last ten minutes.”

Suguru replies, “I bet ten thousand he doesn’t last one.”

Meanwhile, Toji’s calloused fingers pet your pussy, teasing out obscene squelches that have everyone’s ears honing in. As if hypnotised, the men are pulled to you, naturally taking positions around your body like they’ve rehearsed the synchronicity a million times. Choso shudders out of your grip and rushes to kneel between your legs. Suguru and Satoru, on the other hand, literally take your hands, seeing an opportunity to put your body to use if they can’t monopolise your pussy immediately. The black-haired man massages some comfort into your palm before they both lay something hot and solid in your grasps. Reflexively, you wrap your fingers around them, and, at the same time, you jerk him and Satoru off, taking matching pace. 

They both throw their heads back.

Stepping away so Choso can have your sloppy cunt to himself, Toji keeps himself entertained with watching the stringy goo shimmering on his fingers. His eyes meet yours. With a wink, he takes them into his mouth and sucks hard, making a show of his eyes rolling back, a growl simmering out. 

“Cho, are you okay?” You wonder. He’s struggling to find your hole, poking and prodding your clit and lips with his tip in his fumbling. Growing more and more frustrated, he groans, pressing down, hard, on your lower stomach. The poor man doesn’t even notice you’re squirming, feeling the need to pee. “K-kenny? Can you help him? Please.”

“Of course, darling.” Rolling his sleeves up and displaying his sinewy arms, Kento saunters over to the bed. He pats Choso’s back and kindly suggests, “Allow me to help.”

The more inexperienced man hisses when Kento’s large hand wraps around the base of his cock with no shame. He lines the shiny cock head with expert skill to your pulsing hole and urges his apprentice’s hips by pushing him forward with his. Slowly, as if the blonde is aware of your need to be stretched in due time, a thick cock fills you up deliciously. 

Like she’s been starved her whole life, your pussy gobbles up the offering, a virginal sacrifice at the foot of a raging volcano, steadying to erupt all over the awaiting victims. 

“Oh f-fuck!” Choso’s eyes are threatening to bulge out of his head, body quivering and abs contracting. He’s leaning on the bed, forehead falling between your tits. Warn breath fans your skin as he mouths manic confessions of love. “Ama-ha-zing…you’re amazing. I never want to -fuck! s-so tight- leave.”

Suguru mutters, “I don’t think he really understands the spirit of this group activity.”

Snickering, his accomplice whispers loudly at you, “Do me a favour, baby? Go easy on the guy, yeah? I need him to last much longer.”

“Or don’t, pretty, and I’ll share my spoils with you.”

Choso has enough clarity to hiss, “You’re all such -ah hngh!- assholes.”

Your gummy walls are hugging his cock on its own, uncaring of the silly little bet the mischievous pair has going on, and it’s bliss he’s never felt before. The solid pace he’s worming his cock inside of you is perfect and it has you and Choso driven equally mad. But, based on the vibrating of his arms and the way he’s slobbering all over your tits, who’s really pummelling in and out of your cunt is Kento and the poor puppy is just along for the ride. 

“For his first time, he’s doing very well,” Toji notes, feeling awfully kind for someone who seems much younger than him but is actually inconceivably older. “At least he’s not sobbing on the poor girl; she’s soaked enough already.”

Satoru shrugs. “He’s barely making her feel good — didn’t take you for a selfish lover, Choso.”

“I-I’m not,” he argues, sounding not at all convincing with how he has to be guided by someone else for his first time, too weak to carry himself.

Interjecting, Suguru adds, “Grind your hips. Give some attention to her clit. That’s it…hear how much louder she’s moaning now? The little slut loves to have her clit rubbed, doesn’t she?”

And it’s true. You are moaning louder now, inner coils cruelly tightening up on Choso’s cock like a serpent with the perfect prey.

Kento grunts, still pushing his hips against the man’s ass like he’s fucking you through him. Judging by the flushed skin of his cheeks, it must feel good to rub his boner on Choso. The realisation has you squirming, back arching and toes curling. The blond is looking at you, watching every expression, every whimper, every gasp, every drop of drool down your chin.

Bunching up silky black hair in a firm fist, he tugs Choso’s head back, forcing you to look him in the eye. He’s too far gone already, much more fucked out than you are but looking oh so beautiful. “Look, you’re making him so good. Well done, honey. Hmm, Choso, don’t give up just yet…how is it, sweetheart? Would you like him to go faster? Harder? Talk to me, love. Tell Kenny what you need.”

A moan escapes your lips. “F-faster, Ken. Make him go faster.”

Released, he slumps back down between your breasts.

“No! No, wait, please!” Pace hastening, Choso whines and whimpers, biting onto a bouncing tit for purchase. He doesn’t want this to end so soon. His body doesn’t listen. Soon, he stumbles off of you, unable to stand the delirious pleasure your pussy was sucking out of him, whilst his cock is being wrung by the man behind him. Hips jerking into the calloused grip of someone else’s hand, he paints your torso with his scalding cum. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!”

Spasms ripple up and down his spine, eyes rolled back, and then…he disappears from view. A body hits the floor. 

Still thrusting in your hands, Suguru smiles. “I believe someone -tighter, pretty girl, mhm that’s it…good girl- you owe me ten thousand yen, Satoru.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hurry up and fuck her, ‘Kenny,’ our sweet little cock-slut didn’t get to cum thanks to Mr. Quickshot over there. No offence, Cho.”

Despite being just slightly out of view, what with the gigantic bodies looming over you, you’re sure Kento rolls his eyes. When he does step into view, he’s tugging his tie off with one hand and unbuckling his belt with the other, the metal clinking with the movement. You want to watch him undress but suddenly, your view is, once again, obstructed, but this time, by someone else’s cock. 

It’s massive – curving up, with thick veins sprinting up to a purpley-looking cockhead and dense, heavy balls hanging and swinging. Your eyes climb up another pair of thick thighs which cage your body, past a feral bush, strong torso and a hulking muscular frame, all the way up to a delicious-looking scar.

“Didn’t think I’d wait my turn, did ya, ma?” Groping both of your breasts, Toji slides his cock between them. A bead of pearly-white cum smears on your skin. Your mouth waters. “Help me out, yeah? And hurry; I need something to distract me from another man’s cum drying under my damn ass.”

You know exactly what he means so, without needing more prompting, you gather your saliva and spit a dollop onto his cock. It lands with a thwop and is rubbed in thoroughly, leaving a glistening cock in its wake. Toji calmly pushes your tits together to sandwich his dick. He takes a second, or two, to appreciate the sight – he’s no artist but he sure as hell feels like one now. In tandem with Dumb and Dumber, the three of them use your torso to get themselves off. 

Overwhelmed and overstimulated, no one pays attention to you. 

The room’s impossibly hot, crowded and prison-like now. 

So many bodies. 

So much happening all at once. 

You can’t focus on just one thing. Not on the cocks you’re jerking off in your hands, the thumbs flicking your nipples, the intense eye contact Suguru and Satoru are holding as they moan like mirror reflections, and you can just barely focus on the cock pushing in through the tight ring of muscles in your pussy. The slight pinch leaves you a gasping mess. 

Once again, you’re being filled up, but this time, the man ramming inside has no intention of cumming early. He knows you like the back of his hand. He knows the smooth, sensitive spot in your doughy walls and how it has your back arching when he kisses it with every thrust. Breathless, he grunts, “Perfect…ngh, you feel like h-heaven, my love.”

“Heaven,” someone scoffs. 

You almost forgot about the man stepping out of the shadows with a bored look on his face. Glaring right at you, he looks on the verge of burning the room into oblivion. Especially when he climbs into bed, kneeling over your head. “What do any of these bastards know about heaven?”

He grabs your throat, squeezes once and then twice, eyes fluttering shut when your breath hitches. 

Sukuna’s cock, just like everyone else, comes out. It casts a shadow over your face. You’re whining – loving the way Kento feels like he’s in your lungs whilst he hikes your thighs up and places your ankles on his broad shoulders, delighting in how Satoru is now moving your hand down to play with his balls, adoring Toji and the pinching of your nipples as he glides through the sweat building on your skin –  and hardly conscious when Sukuna swipes his cock on your lips.

Tasting salty and like a meal he’s going to force feed you, you gulp nervously.

“Open…Don’t make me repeat myself, you dumb little whore. You can take six cocks well with your greedy pussy but can your irritating mouth do something other than yip like a dog and squeal like a pig?”

Pouty, you tilt your head back and open your mouth wide to accommodate his intimidating size. 

“Good. I’m glad to know you’re not totally useless,” Sukuna mumbles under his breath, watching his cock disappear inch by inch inside your mouth. A thumb of his brushes against the length of your neck, enamoured with the warm imprint. 

He’s stunning you into mania with his immense size. You at long last become all too aware of the fact that you’re pinned to the bed with a pair of balls resting on your forehead, a man kneeling on your stomach, two dicks on your sides thrusting into your hands, and a cock plunging inside your pussy as your clit is rubbed.

Soon, your orgasm strikes like lightning inside your body. You arch up into Toji, bucking like a horse and he rides you with ease. Pussy pulsing, the sudden tightness makes Kento groan. Cum floods your walls, leaking out, pooling under your ass and staining the sheets. Such a waste, you think the salaryman says. 

“Finally! My turn.”

Your hand is abandoned and your cunt swiftly fed again. Through the cum, his dick forces its way in, lubricated and in no need of assistance. Satoru’s long digits dig into the slippery flesh of your thighs, adding to the bruises his former classmate had left.

Porn-star moans echo in the room, matching your garbled ones in half mockery and in half sincerity. He gives you no time to calm down or to get a breather, not that you can when Sukuna is all you can see, taste and smell. “You got a good -hah- load in here, Kento. Nice one. Ah shit, she’s still cumming. Fuck, I don’t think I’ll last -ngh- very long.”

Suguru chuckles. “When do you ever?”

“Ignoring that.”

Toji snorts and suggests, “Someone should wake the loser lying on the floor; a spot’s opened up.”

In agreement, the salaryman, who’s gathering himself by undoing the buttons on his soaked shirt with shaky hands, nudges Choso’s leg. His majestic, pale and sculptured chest comes into view and you think about how badly you want to feel it, to taste the sweat making his skin all dewy, and mark him yours.

Still, no one’s paying you any mind. You’re just a glorified sex doll at this point, being pushed to your limits as they get their money’s worth. The nasty squelches Satoru elicits, the gargled whimpers, and the creaking of the bed as the headboard slams against the wall are all you can hear. It’s the only sense you can focus on now that Sukuna’s effectively blinded you and you’re being touched and felt everywhere to the point where everything loses its meaning. 

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m gonna take my time so get comfortable, losers,” Satoru goads. “

Unusually tamed and mild, the dark voice of the man whose cock is gagging you into silence says, “Do whatever you want…her throat is mine…and in due course, so will every hole she has.”

“Ha! You tryna make me cum early with the anal talk, Ryomen? Cheating bastard.”

Sukuna huffs. “You can have her ass first, if you want, Fushiguro. Saves me the trouble of having to loosen her up myself. Though I doubt you’ll make much of a difference.”

Despite the insult, the scarred man only laughs and someone must pat someone’s back because you hear a slap but it doesn’t land on your skin. In tandem, they all work your body, taking what they want and giving you no reprieve. 

“Let’s not leap past her pussy just yet, gentlemen. I’ll deal with this bastard’s power trip,” Suguru promises. He, too, leaves your hand, which are both now free to claw into Sukuna and Toji’s arms, silently begging them to both slow down and to hurry up. Just as Kento was standing behind Choso, he stands behind Satoru. His lips graze the shell of his friend’s ear and he whispers, “Quit messing around…our pretty angel only likes good boys, don’t you, sweet thing?”

You can’t even answer because of the cock in your mouth. Though, you realise, in spite of the stupid cloud of pleasure suffocating you, it’s not as if he was actually looking for an answer, instead, the throb of the dick in your pussy seems to be what he needed. 

“H-hey, Suguru, no fair,” Satoru whines. “Don’t play with my nipples..fuck, I knew I never should have told you about that.” 

That you’d love to see for yourself, but unfortunately, you can only try to hold back the orgasm they’re all cruelly pulling out of you. You’re powerful against the stifling, smothering weight of Sukuna and Toji’s bodies. No way in hell could you ever hope to shake them off; you don’t want to anyway.

Thankfully, however, in your peripheral vision, you can see something just as interesting, something that has your eyes fluttering shut, and your pussy clenching hard – Choso’s up but still just as delirious as he was when he watched his cum shimmer on your body, you think. 

Kento has a hand combing through the savage mess of raven-black hair on his head, guiding him to his soft dick. Gentle, patient, and encouraging, he comments, “You’ll have to wait a couple more rounds for your turn again, Choso. In the meantime, you can taste her on my cock…would you like that?”

He nods vehemently, pigtails bouncing. Breathily, he answers, “Yeah…I want a taste.”

A wet tongue darts out and laps up the wetness coating Kento’s skin. Licking, shhlurrrping!, and sucking, Choso moans at the musky sweetness that slides down his throat. He’s kneeling, uncaring of the bruises that’ll form on his poor knees, gripping onto the firm thighs that stand before him as he steals your essence from another man’s cock. With his eyes closed, you know he’s imagining it’s your pussy he’s eating from, but no one misses when those very eyes flit open and he stares up at Kento like he’s an angel sent by you.

“No one’s gonna make a, ‘that’s gay’ joke?” 

The assassin-for-hire snorts again. “That’s rich coming from a guy whose asshole is being fingered right now.”

“Uh, actually, it’s just being rimmed. Try it sometime,” the strongest sorcerer counters. And then, like he’s rubbing it in everyone else’s face, he moans louder, thrusting so hard and fast into your pussy, everyone on the bed is jostled back and forth. 

Your nails dig harder into skin, damn near drawing blood. 

At the same time, Sukuna and Toji cum with low growls. So does Satoru, though it’s Suguru’s name on his tongue. Your stomach and your womb are stuffed full of cum. It’s burning. Suffocating. Painfully euphoric. Just as fast as they descended on you, they relieve you, allowing cool air to blanket your spawning body. You cough and pant and squirm. 

The freedom is exhilarating and upsetting and only lasts a second.

You get just three big gulps of air and then a punishing grip finds its way onto your chin, jerking your head back as a thumb pulls your jaw down. A fat thwack! of spit slithers down your sore throat, which has been properly stretched out by Sukuna’s monstrous cock. You knew who it was just by touch alone and that nasty man gives you a rare smile, which is really more of a menacing grin. 

“Just lubing you up for Fushiguro’s. Put that talented mouth to good use and make me proud, yeah? You’ll find your ass raw and red if you can’t make him cum in less than five minutes.”

“You underestimating me or is she just that good, Ryomen?”

The man replies, “Find out for yourself– watch it!”

He was shoved to the side in Choso’s hurry to taste your lips. For a second you’re grateful that Sukuna grants the offending man mercy and doesn’t escalate the situation but in the next, all your thoughts are consumed by the curse’s undignified desperation.

You can’t rely on your sight to tell you who’s who anymore. There’s too many hands on you. Instead, you let your sense of touch hum, all too familiar with the owner of the messy and sloppy kiss granting you sweet reprieve from the storm of testosterone, horniness, and muscles on steroids surrounding you. Although that doesn’t last very long either because he’s being yanked off, like a kitten, by his scruff. Toji cocks his brow. “Her mouth’s mine now, Kamo. Go suck her toes or something.”

That apparently didn’t sound like sarcasm to the curse because he crawls over to your feet and swirls his tongue around a big toe, slobbering it up good and proper for his own benefit. He humps the thigh, cock searing, all while his tongue gets in between the crevices. Everyone but you chuckles, because, despite yourself, you find it hot and endearing.

There’s now three men by your legs – Choso at your foot, and Satoru and Suguru fighting to sluurrp! up as much of the former’s cum from your pussy. Except, it feels more like Satoru’s distracting Suguru by creating a mark on his neck. And it’s actually working; there’s no rhyme or reason to his technique whilst he cleans you up for himself, only a wallowing in the taste of your tangy sweetness and Satoru’s bitter saltness. 

Another monstrously sized cock slides into your mouth and you take it in with no complaint, experienced throat expanding to impress him just as Sukuna ordered you to. A calloused thumb brushes a bead of sweat from your temple. You look up at Toji, whose furrowed brows ask an unspoken question: you okay, kid?

Your free hands grab his blessed asscheeks and shove his hips forward. You gag around his cock. That’s your answer.

“Damn…you really are good,” he grunts out. Turning to the man sitting by your head, petting your hair, he jerks his head back. “Go and try her tits, man. Ain’t nothing like it.”

Sukuna growls, “I was going to; don’t tell me what to do. Just waiting for your fat ass to get off so I can get in comfortably. It’ll look like I’m fucking you from behind otherwise.”

“You fucking wish.”

The man grouches, “Whatever. I’ll take her hand while you fuck her mouth. Try pinching her nose for a couple seconds; her throat tightens up real nice.”

Meanwhile, Kento’s big hand rubs your stomach, tenderly roaming over to your breast whilst it’s still free for use and indulging himself in the softness of the fat mounds. He’s smearing the mixed cum on your skin as if it’s lotion. It’s loving, slow, and sweet so is the kiss he presses onto your palm, which he hands over to Sukuna, whose cock is already raring to go. 

None of them look intent to end the night with just one orgasm each. You can do nothing but grip the bed sheets and keep your legs open so they can slot themselves in any gaps they can find among the crowd of men who will not relinquish control and let another take their turn. 

There’s no point in counting orgasms, in keeping score or tracking of who is where and why– they’re doing that for you. It seems like all you have to do is just let them throw you into any and all positions they want, let them mark your body up as they please, and fuck their cum back into you with not a care for the consequences of tonight’s depravity.

“Don’t go falling asleep, alright? Or do, whatever floats your boat…pretty sure we’re all in agreement we’ll fuck you anyway.” Satoru stands up, pinching your thigh to catch your attention. With other men’s cum trickling down his chin, his words simultaneously fills you with confidence and tears you down at the same time, a hysterical dread of excitement in the air. 

The men share a sadistic look before those piercing eyes fall back onto you for the millionth time this night.

“Good luck, babe!”

[littledes1re]

Needy 

Pairing: Joel miller x f!reader

Summary: You and Joel are fuck buddies…that‘s it lol

Warnings: 18+, Smut, MDNI, pinv, unprotected sex, MEAN!joel, Joel is kind of an Asshole, Age gap! (20s and 50s), degradation, hair pulling, oral m!receiving, spanking.

 A/N:  If you saw this yesterday—no you didn‘t🙂 accidentally posted it lmao. But I literally dreamt of this scenario so I HAD to write it down. HtD is taking longer than expected, i‘m sorry😓😓😓

„We need to stop at Home Depot for a moment.”

That’s the first thing he says as you slide into the passenger seat of his truck. No hello. No hug. Not even a glance. Just those flat words and the low rumble of the engine underneath them.

He looks just like he always does—grumpy, brows drawn tight, lips set in that same familiar pout. His beard is scruffier than usual, flecked with white that catches the light and quietly betrays his age. His hair, though, is slicked back—just the way you told him you like it, last time. You wonder if he did it because you told him that.

„Why?“ you huff.

„Fuckin‘ burst pipe under the kitchen, ain‘t got time for a plumber.“ his voice deep and rough, but still not looking at you.

„Can‘t you just fix it tomorrow?“ you ask, your voice annoyed, as you roll your eyes.

„Are you out of your mind, girl?“ this is the first time he looks at you, but he is angry. „Are you that cockdrunk that you can‘t even wait for twenty minutes?“

And maybe he was right. You were cockdrunk. Waiting for him the whole week, and on top of that—you were ovulating. You and Joel weren’t anything more than occasional lovers. Fuck buddies, really. You met a year ago at a bar—he stood out right away. Grumpy, brooding, alone. A glass of scotch in hand, eyes dark, brows drawn in like he was wrestling with a life he didn’t want to talk about.

And there you were. Young, bold, and captivated. All it took was one look at those broad shoulders and heavy arms, and all you could think about was getting him into bed. A few conversations, some electricity between words—and soon enough, you had him right where you wanted him.

But he was no good man. He didn‘t treat you well, giving you the bare minimum—just enough to keep you around. He didn’t care if you cum, didn’t ask how you were, didn’t even pretend. Cold, distant, hollow. You weren’t special. You were just a distraction. Something to fill the silence. Only a hole…to fuck.

„Mhm, I am. And actually, I waited two whole weeks for you!“ you exclaimed.

„Con-fucking-gratulations. I was busy, can‘t keep up with you every week.“

You roll your eyes once more, but this is what you found so hot about him. That grumpy, angry and annoyed man. Someone you can annoy, and he can bend you over and fucks the annoyance out of you. Or spanks your ass red, to set you straight.

That‘s all you knew about him. His anger, and how to make him cum.

You glanced at him. His eyes were fixed on the road, jaw tight with focus. Outside, the summer wind curled through the trees, rustling the world into something almost cinematic. You rolled the window down and let the cool air kiss your skin.

You felt it though—his gaze. Subtle, but unmistakable. He was looking at you, trailing his eyes from your hair down to your thighs. Trying to be discreet. Failing.

And then you saw it. He was hard.

He never wanted to admit how much you turned him on. The skimpy little dresses you wore, your breasts nowhere near hidden and whenever you bend over—people could definitely see your panties.

„May I help with this little problem of yours?“ You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

„That really is the only thing in your mind—god damn, girl.“

You giggled at his reaction.

Your hand was placed on top of his bulge, rubbing on the surface as you heard a breath leaving his mouth. His hands gripped the wheel harder, so much so that you could see his white knuckles.

„Telling me I think too much about cock and then getting hard after five seconds being with me.“ you teased, your fingers finding the zipper of his jeans and gently pulling his hard one out—already pulsing under your touch, oozing with pre-cum.

„Stop taking and at least do something useful with that mouth of yours.“

He didn‘t had to tell you twice. You instantly wrapped your hand around him jerking him off, while simultaneously unbuckling your seatbelt and going on your knees on top of your seat.

„Careful, if cops catch us, you‘re fucked.“

„Am I fucked, or the person who is driving and getting the head, fucked?“ You smiled at him.

„Suck“ he pushed your head down, making you yelp. You mumbled a little ‚asshole‘ between your breath and welcomed his tip in your mouth.

Your head starting to bob up and down, you begin to suck on him. Your tongue swirling around his head, feeling every inch, every vein on your tongue. You could hear his groans and moans on top of you, his one hand going down your ass and squeezing the flesh making you whine around his cock.

„We‘re almost there, hurry up.“ he growled.

You released his cock with a pop and looked at him.

„Poor old, old man, can‘t even cum anymore because of his age.“

His face was flushed red and droplets of sweat were coming down his forehead, his eyebrows furrowed. Angry— but not finding the right words to respond.

You wrapped your hands around his cock once more, now furiously jerking him up and down, squeezing the tip and using your left over spit as lube. His face twists, jaw clenches as you quickly go down on him again, stuffing your mouth with him so he could all release it in you. He cums with a groan, you feel his thighs shaking as he releases spurt after spurt into your mouth.

You lick him clean, gently, not trying to make him too overstimulated, because you still needed him later that day.

„There you go. Right as we arrived.“ while he was parking his car, you smiled at him and pat his head, making him just more annoyed than he already is.

„Behave in there, is that clear?“

„Whatever you say.“ and you were already jumping out of the car.

Looking through shelves full of tools was never so incredibly boring. And to make matters worse, you couldn’t ignore the pulse of heat between your thighs—not with his back to you, those broad shoulders on full display.

You tried to play it off, looked through your phone, but the need for him just grew stronger.

„Can I take a bite out of those arms?“ you whispered.

He turns his head at you, confused and irritated.

„What did I say? Behave.“ he hisses under his breath, low enough that no one else can hear. With a sharp tilt of his head, he signals you to step back. You do, exhaling a quiet huff as you wait for him to finally locate the one tool he needs.

He finally locates the device, his fingers closing around it with a muttered sound of satisfaction. Without a word, the two of you make your way to the cashier. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence—doesn’t glance your way or say a thing—as he pays and hurriedly stuffs the item into a crinkled paper bag. The transaction barely complete, he’s already striding toward the exit, shoulders tense, leaving you trailing behind in his wake.

You two sit down in his car again, as you look at him with a grin.

„What.“

You don‘t say anything, other than grabbing the center of his torso and making him jump for a second.

„You fuckin‘ serious? Ain‘t see someone be this needy before. Wait till‘ we go home.“

But you couldn‘t accept that. The throbbing inside of your panties was making your head spin. You couldn‘t possibly just ignore it.

So the whole ride home to his house was teasing him, putting one feet on his crotch, spreading your legs and showing him your clothed pussy. And the only thing you would get from him was a cold shoulder and occasionally a huff and puff.

But that quickly changed as you two were standing in front of his apartment. Not even seconds in there, he grabs you, roughly bending you over the couch arm. You yelp, holding into his couch for dear life as he forcefully pulls your panties down and enters you in one swift move.

„Oh! Joel.“ you whimper, his hand coming to grab you by your hair pulling you behind and starting to slowly trust into you.

„Yea, there we go. Getting what you needed, huh?“ he coos. A hiss leaving your lips as he spanks you on your ass, rubbing the place with his calloused hands and then spanking once more.

He pulls your hair back, roughly, so his face is right beside yours. „You see that? That water that spreads out? I would now be repairing that if I didn‘t had a cock drunk whore to fuck.“ your eyes land on his kitchen—and his floor was really overflowing with water.

Your stomach twists in pleasure, but your scalp is hurting as he releases your hair. His thrusts grow harder and harder, his hands squeezing the sides of your hips.

„J-joel, please.“

„What? Ain‘t that what you wanted from me? To fuck you?“ he hisses, biting back a moan.

He grabs your tits from underneath, squeezing the flesh and it‘s almost too painful at how rough he was being. Your whines grow louder, knowing that now his neighbours probably would hear you.

„S‘what you get. Not listening to me, teasing me all damn day, being bratty. Now you get your ass beat.“ he spanks your bottom once again, this time so hard that you physically recoil and your body almost falls on the arm of the chair. Your hear a chuckle, as he nears his head to your ear once again.

„Poor, poor baby.“ he whispers, stroking your cheek.

„Now where is that big mouth of yours, huh?“

As your thighs start to shake, your whines grow louder. Your stomach twists as you come closer and closer to your release. Joel spanks you once more, his thrusts growing sloppier. He pumps into you two or four more times before coming into you—filling you to brim.

A breath releases from your lips, as you shake your head.

„No, no, no. Let me cum please!“ you yell at him. But there is no use. He finishes inside of you, letting go of your hair and just leaving you there—hanging on top of the couch arm, panties down, hole filled, his cum already dripping out and without an orgasm.

You lift your head up to see him go to his kitchen, get on his knees and start working on the busted pipe.

„Pull your panties up and come help me here. Make yourself useful for once.“

Taglist: @vickie5446 @a-goose-on-mars @thatgirlmendo @ihearttdilfs @pickyeater13 @sweetiegirl16 @keseqna @shivispunk @cuntyhunty22 @kyloispunk @meetmeatyourworst @joelmillerswife9 @iveseenstrangerthings50 @bluekat707 @idrkman @vanishintoyoubby @dlwrish @xcallmetaniax @umadirectioner

[mickyschumacher]

[SUMMER SUNSHINE! PT.2]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: the best summer can only start with with a good list. or in which you and hattie decide how to make oscar's summer worth it.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, poor humour, poor karting jargon, indirect mentions of mental health/emotional regulation = some angst, set in nov/dec of '24

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x childhood bsf!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.3k+

tag list (lmk if you wanna be added): @kakashiislut @taetae-armyyyyy @satorinnie @at-a-rax-ia @op814kitty @anayaverse @edgyficuselastica @anonomano @sltwins @utopiakys @fullyinsanepartlywriting

🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

With Oscar's recent admission, you had vowed to yourself.

No more sad Oscar.

You wanted a smile. A truly happy smile.

You wanted a laugh. One that made him warm

And in the least selfish way, you wanted a thank you. One that told you he was indeed untroubled.

How you were going to do it... well that was still something you had to plan.

You had been hatching it out with Hattie before both of your families got together for dinner at your house.

You laid flat on your bed, eyeing the list in your notebook, sentences and doodles scribbled by the both of you. The following was a list that intended to keep Oscar busy, distracted, and happy – all at the same time.

Hattie, who stared at the ceiling suddenly turned to you. "Do you think it's to early to add getting him a girlfriend on the list?"

You gave her a look, chewing on the pen lightly. "It's been four months," you stated.

"Exactly! He needs someone to get his attention. Like actually use his heart to feel something?" Hattie remarked with a small smile, grabbing the notebook from your hands.

You shrugged. "We'll see," you murmured, watching her write it down.

Okay... so the list was truly in a work in progress. But as long as you had somewhat of an idea.

For dinner, you sat next to Oscar, who had managed himself a seat next to Hattie.

You looked around the table, smiling to yourself. Mae and Edie were across you sat next to the dads, talking about what they were currently up to. Nicole and your mum were chatting away as per usual. You were finally together, all of you.

Oscar spotted your sigh of content and gave you a light nudge. "You okay?"

You flickered your eyes over to him and smiled softly. "Yeah," you nodded, "I'm just happy everyone's here."

Ossar blinked, trying to put himself in your shoes as he looked around the table. He understood what you meant. The warmth of being together. It was nice.

"Oh," you started, turning your head to him. "Obviously you should rest tomorrow. But I was thinking we could go go-karting the day after. Hattie will join too. Even though she can't drive to save her life," you murmured the last part.

Hattie narrowed her eyes, peeping her head from the other side of Oscar. "I can hear you know," she retorted.

You only smiled, sending her an air kiss with your hand. "Love you too, Hats."

Oscar grinned at the both of you. "Karting? That does sound fun. It's been a while too."

━━━━━━━━━━━

"Do you always have to read everywhere you go?" Oscar's voice sliced through the air as you leaned up from your car, looking at the two siblings in front of you.

"Do you two always never have to say 'Hi?'" You retorted, putting your book away in your car.

Hattie snorted, shoving her bag in the front seat. "Please... I don't think I've seen her not read in my life," she told her brother before ducking in.

You rolled your eyes, about to hop in when Oscar stood there, waiting. You raised a brow, putting a hand on your hip, eyeing the strange look on your face. "What are you doing?"

Oscar took a step towards you, a sweet smile gracing his face. "Can I drive?"

"Absolutely..." You feigned a grin before dropping it, "not."

"But–" Oscar started.

"No nothing. Get in," you interrupted, opening the side door and gesturing for him to enter oh so kindly.

Oscar grumbled something along the lines of how much of a nuisance you were and you could only respond with "Takes one to know one."

The ride to Le Mans Entertainment was fruitful to say the least. Hattie and Oscar fought over who got to control the music. Eventually, you had settled for house music on the way there and K-pop on the way back. Then you got the complaints of too much evening wind and too much evening heat. You debated on hurling your jacket at your best friend's brother but seeing as you were driving, you settled for an annoyed grumble.

It was safe to say, you hadn't missed the sibling duo as much as you thought you did.

The three of you eyed the the place upon getting there. It had barely changed since the last time you had been here. A fresh paint job may have been included but the track was still the same.

You breathed in the crisp air, the smell of burnt tarmac, gasoline, and exhaust fumes lingering around you. You turned to the two siblings, a grin on your face. "Ready to get your asses kicked?"

Oscar snorted while Hattie rolled her eyes. The race driver took a step forward, purposely nudging his shoulder into yours as he walked into the doors. "I'll take that as a challenge," he whispered to you in passing.

You clicked your tongue, turning to follow after him. "What if I win?"

"Hmm... anything you name, it's yours," Oscar carefully decided.

"Anything?" You queried with raised brows. Surely not anything.

He repeated your words with a nod, opening the door for you and Hattie. "Anything. If you lose, however..."

Oscar tried not to grin at the slightly concerned expression on your face. "We're going to Waterway."

Ah Waterway. An uncreative name for an uncreative festival. It was a local festival at Brighton Beach, filled with water guns, water balloons, swimming, indie bands and singers... a nightmare really.

Both Hattie and your eyes widened. She turned to you. "You hate Waterway," she hissed.

You gave her a tight smile, unable to detect the glint of amusement in her eyes. "I'm very well aware of that, Hattie. Thank you," you muttered sarcastically, receiving an equally dry thumbs up. You sighed, walking past Oscar. "I guess I'll just have to win then. "

━━━━━━━━━━━

Beating Oscar was harder than you had thought.

Sure, he was an F1 driver. Sure, he had been doing this since he basically came out the womb and had three years on you. But you were a mechanical engineer for Christ's sake. This was technically your calling... literally.

You let out a successful cheer as both you and Hattie overtook him, one by one. You didn't miss the opportunity to poke your tongue out at a certain ego-filled race driver. "That's four for four in total! It's draw!" You settled loudly.

You and Hattie had both won a race each while Oscar had claimed two by himself.

Oscar put his foot on the brake, slowing down as you all arrived to the starting line. "One more then. A last deciding race. To be honest I wasn't really trying," he shrugged, opening his mouth to yawn under his helmet as he stretched his arms.

You blinked, grin dropping from your face as you looked over at his sister in worry.

There was no way in hell you were going to Waterway.

Hattie only gave you a helpless look. You've got one more chance, her eyes said.

You sighed begrudgingly. "Fine. Last one," you agreed.

Oscar smiled, giving a quick nod to the instructor to count you all off.

The sky had turned orange and pink as the the green flag was waved in front of your eyes. Quickly, you pressed on the throttle pedal, hoping you were at least a millisecond faster than the Australian boy but you supposed you were out of luck.

Oscar was right in front of you, curving towards the right. The sight only made you push further, feeling the evening wind crawl past you. The floodlights shone on you as you moved your steering wheel.

A turn to the right. A straight chicane. Another slight nudge to the right.

You could still see the rear of Oscar's superkart.

A left into the corner, followed by a series of curves that bordered on making you throw up.

Straight.

Left.

Right.

Straight.

You weren't sure when you had lost sight of Oscar's kart. You had no idea really. All you remembered was the bubble of laughter you felt when somehow Hattie came in front of you and struggled with keeping within the limits, slightly bouncing here and there before she unintentionally drifted her way to the finish line.

Oscar, who had been waiting for you to finish so he could humbly brag about his win in your face, found himself silent when you took off your helmet, tears of laughter trailing down your cheeks as you keeled over onto Hattie who looked absolutely mortified at what she had done.

He furrowed his brows at the sight. Your hair, frizzed by the helmet going following the direction of the wind. Your wide smile as you rubbed Hattie's back, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

Oscar blinked, pushing down the odd quirks of his mouth. He frowned. God, he wasn't smiling was he?

No. He couldn't have been.

Oscar reverted back to both you and his sister. He smirked at the pointed expression on your face. "So Waterway, huh?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha," you puncuated, rolling your eyes, holding your helmet to your side. You took a step towards him. Your voice lowered. "I'm am going to throw so many water balloons at you that you won't even know what hit you," you threatened.

Oscar pursed his lips and nodded with a grin. "I'll count on it."

━━━━━━━━━━━

You looked at your list blankly in your hand. Despite already completing one activity for Oscar, you had been roped into another.

Stupid Waterway.

Flickering your eyes to the date on your calendar, you sighed. Waterway was in two weeks. You wondered if you could swallow your pride and convince Oscar to not go.

Falling back into your bed with a thud, you peered heavily at the piles of paper cluttered around your laptop. You groaned, rolling onto your side.

Could you even call it a summer holiday if you had taken some summer classes? The intention was to help future you by reducing the workload. But present you was regretting it immensely.

Begrudgingly, you moved off your bed and inched towards the dreaded desk. You blinked slowly, trying to get yourself in the zone. Eyeing the words on the paper, you could feel your lifespan shorten.

Jounce.

Hysteresis.

Tribology.

Buckling.

You put your hand to your face and sighed yet again. You had done this to yourself. There was no one to fault but you. Well, you and your godawful professor who thought reading off the slides was inclusive of his $150k salary.

Anyhow... you could do this.

Time would fly before you even knew it.

Just as you applied your pen to the paper, focusing on your thirteenth question, you could feel a sharp thud hit your window. You blinked, brows furrowing immediately. Maybe it was a bird.

You shook your head, looking back at your paper. Your pen trailed after the words carefully. A vibration magnetometer consists of two identical bar magnets... time period of oscillation in a horizontal magnetic field is... One of the magnets is removed and if the other magnet oscillates in the same field, then the time period in seconds is...

Thud.

You huffed, slightly annoyed. Pulling back the curtain, you looked out for the intrusion but was met with a grinning Oscar on the other side of your fence, head out his window and hand full of other small pebbles to attack your own window with.

How many years had it been since you had received a pebble from that window?

You narrowed your eyes, opening the glass. You shivered briefly at the cold quiet night air before opened your mouth. "Do you seriously not know how to say Hi?" You hissed.

Oscar smiled, leaning on the window sill. "Hi," he greeted, bunny teeth apparent even as the sky darkened.

You gave him a feigned smile, eyes squinting with sarcasm as you lifted your phone in the air. "Or perhaps use a phone? You can send texts on them, you Victorian child."

A laugh fell from Oscar's lips, hands on his stomach as he keeled over. "Has anyone ever told you you're hilarious?" He asked, breathing slowly to calm himself down.

You gave him a pointed look. "What do you want? I'm trying to study here!" You muttered, dangling the papers full of crosses.

"You've been studying for almost two hours. And I'm bored. Let's go do something," he suggested, concern lightly coating his voice.

"Can you not just bother Hattie?" You asked, raising a brow.

"You want me to wake Hattie?" Oscar retorted in disbelief, leaning on the sill once again

You blinked, registering his words. That was a fair point. It would be like walking into a spider's web. Stuck and waiting for a pissed of Hattie to gobble you all up.

You looked at the mess of papers in front of you and back at Oscar. Your shoulders slumped in admission. "Where are we going?"

Oscar grinned, clapping his hands in satisfaction. "I think we need to prep for Waterway."

━━━━━━━━━━━

You stared blankly at the rippling water in front of you, taking in the smell of salt and whatever minerals were truly letting your feet sink as the cold night air whipped past you.

"Well don't just stand there." Oscar's voice pierced through your silence, standing in front of you, towel hung over his shoulder, jandals and shirt already off.

You swallowed at the boyish smile on his face. "I really don't think a midnight swim is going to help me with Waterway," you retorted, clearing your throat. "Speaking of which–"

"Don't even try talk yourself out of it. We're going. End of story. Now come on!" Oscar's hand beckoned you to follow him.

You sighed, reluctantly taking a few steps forward. It was strange. The night itself was mostly warm, no more than 17 degrees. Yet the air seemed to repel your skin, eliciting the trail of goosebumps across your exposed arms. You hugged the towel wrapped around your body while you huffed.

Arriving to stand next to Oscar, you squinted at the the body of water in front of you. It looked absolutely positively freezing.

Christ... were you actually going to do this?

Oscar watched you through his peripheral, aware of the sceptical look on your face. He nudged you gently with his arm. "It'll be like exposure therapy."

You turned to him with a raised brow. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Oscar clicked his tongue, dropping his towel in the sand. He held out his arm towards you. He watched you stare at his hand blankly and sighed. "We'll do it together."

You pursed your lips, eyeing his hand. You weren't getting out of this, were you? Taking a brief glance at his face, you removed the towel from your body, wincing immediately at the rush of cold as you took his hand.

Your heart raced against your chest as you both inched towards the water. The dry sand turned wet and cold, small waves peeling in back and forth. You tightened your grip around his hand instantly when the water splashed against your legs, each step getting you deeper into the waves. "Fuck," you cursed, looking over at Oscar.

Your eyes widened at the small grin on his face. You had known that troubling look since you were a kid. "Oscar... no," you warned, watching him step towards you, water creeping up towards his waist.

"Oscar, Osc, please–Oscar!"

A scream left your lips as his arms wrapped around your waist, grabbing you closer to him before he lifted you slightly and planted you further into the body of water.

A sharp shiver of cold tore through your body.

You closed your eyes, pulling yourself out of the water. You floated, head peeking out with your hair entirely soaked. The beads of liquid ran down your face but you could barely feel it over the raucous laugh falling from Oscar's lips.

You narrowed your eyes at the male. "I will murder you," you simply stated before launching yourself at him.

Oscar widened his eyes, watching your hands fight to dunk him under the water. He defended himself poorly, body still shaking with laughter.

"I'm sorry," he gasped with a grin, unsure of whether the water from his eyes were tears or not. "But it was so worth it!"

The harsh waves from your hands only worsened. Oscar squinted, his own hands covering his face, smile still wide on his face. "It worked!" He maintained, "Not cold anymore, are you?"

You stopped, letting your arms fall down to your sides. "Do you think I would be after attacking you?"

Oscar pursed his lips, a nod of acknowledgement coming from him. "Fair point."

You rolled your eyes, suppressing your own grin, wavering in the water gently. You could hear Oscar sigh after a few minutes of silence.

"This is nice," Oscar commented to no one really, head faced towards the dark sky as he floated in the water. "Better than racing," he murmured.

You gasped dramatically, turning your head towards him. "No... better than racing? Did the Oscar Piastri just say that?"

Oscar rolled his eyes, shoving a splash of water towards you. "Oh come off it."

You smiled to yourself before mulling over his words. You thought back to the moment you had in your kitchen. Although you had vowed to make him happy, you couldn't help feel something wasn't right.

"Oscar... you are happy with racing right?" You asked cautiously, eyeing the moon oddly.

Oscar furrowed his brows slightly. He looked over at you, feeling the water crowd his ear. "Of course I am. It's Formula One. My dream."

You frowned at his voice. "Right... it's just that, well, you've won two races and a Constructor's and yet... you don't seem all that happy to me," you admitted, still looking at the sky because you were terrified to look over at him. You were worried that if you did look at him... you wouldn't know what to say anymore.

Oscar's eyes widened at your words. He could feel his throat itch painfully. He had spent his entire life like a grown up. Usually able to regulate his emotions. Always able to compartmentalise. This past year... it had taken a bit more of a toll on him than he'd like to admit. He thought no one had noticed. His own family hadn't said anything to him.

But then again... you were always like this. Observant. Even as a child. Hattie was your voice more often than not. You were more than happy to sit back and watch, preferring the ease of not conversing. Eventually, you had grown out of it. But your attentiveness had always stayed.

"I think you're right," Oscar quietly admitted, breathing slowly. "I think I'm struggling but I don't know how to deal with it. The fighting on track with Lando. The team. Lily. All of it. Everyone just expects me to move on like I usually do. But it's not always that easy."

You stayed silent for a moment, digesting those words. "Of course it isn't," you stated, receiving a focused look from Oscar. You sighed quietly. "It shouldn't be that easy, Osc. I'm sure you talked to Lily about these things but without her... you don't even tell Hattie or your mum. You can't struggle silently or you'll drown. You should be loud so I can hear you."

Oscar blinked, grappling with a choked breath. He swallowed the congestion in his chest. He gave you a tight smile. "Duly noted," he simply commented.

You eyed him from your spot in the water. It was like you could actually see the weight on his shoulders. They were like boulders. Slowly but surely, there were cracks. And for whatever reason, you wouldn't rest until this version of Oscar completely eroded.

"Race you to the car?" You offered.

Oscar stared at you briefly before breaking into a grin. "You're on."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[zepskies]

DOWNGRADE

Pairing: Mark Meachum x F. Reader

Summary: There it was. The beginning of the end, and neither of you saw it coming.

AN: Ahhh here we go! For the first time ever, Mark Meachum! Obviously I’m still learning this guy as a character, but this idea grabbed me and wouldn’t let me go. Thanks so much, @luci-in-trenchcoats for choosing this color prompt for the 5K Follower Celebration!

Word Count: 1.2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff, implied smut, and rom-com vibes, until the angst sets in (lol). Medical diagnoses, implied cheating

Spring

Mark set two mugs of coffee on his nightstand to free up his hands. He had to cut wide swaths through the bedsheets to reach you. As usual, you were a tangle of limbs and frizzy hair.

“Jesus, what’d you do here, woman?” he said, lips tugging at a smile when he heard your muffled giggle.

Eventually he unearthed your head and found your sleepy smile. You squinted at the sun glaring through the window behind him. It backlit that look of fond amusement on his face.

You clawed half-blind at the front of his shirt and pulled him down to you. He lost his footing and grunted as he fell, just barely catching himself from crushing you. Your laugh rang in his ear and forced a chest-shaking rumble out of him too.

You freed your own arms from the warm nest you created, just to take his face in your hands. Your thumbs caressed along the coarse edges of his beard.

“Getting scraggly, baby,” you remarked.

“Yeah, but you like your man all wild and caveman-like,” he said mischievously.

You shook your head, but you still couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

“Only when he fucks me,” you said. A cheeky challenge in your eyes.

Mark’s brows popped high, his devilish grin showing teeth. It didn’t matter how long you’d been his, you still managed to keep him on the ropes.

“Well, he does aim to please.”

Summer

The sound of your laugh was like sweltering sunshine in his chest. After the wave finished dunking you both, you swept the salty sting of the ocean out of your eyes and clung to his shoulders in the water.

Santa Cruz agreed with you. It shone down on your glistening skin and caught in your eyes. You both needed this—taking a beat, just the two of you.

Finally, Mark had allowed himself to take some time off. He was reluctant at first, workhorse that he was. But the Captain—your father—insisted that Mark take a break. Wrapping up a triple homicide after four months of legwork, getting to see that motherfucker be denied bail until trial, and giving the victims’ families a sense of relief that the killer was off the streets was a decided win.

“You’ve got someone waiting for you,” the Captain reminded him. “Don’t take that for granted.”

Mark grabbed your left hand and pressed a kiss into your palm. He felt the coolness of metal against his lips. It reminded him to turn your hand over.

“Whoa!” He closed his eyes and playfully looked away as if he was being blinded. “Who gave you that fucking rock?”

The summer sun glinted off a modest stone. Your sister told him not to overthink it. Just get the classic square cut. But his instincts told him to go with something called a “cushion,” like the sales lady said at Jared’s.

Mark knew he made the right choice when you gasped, covering your mouth with shaky hands, your eyes filling with tears when you met his slightly nervous ones.

Now, you just laughed in his face. “Oh, nobody really. Just the love of my life.”

His smile quirked, even though his heart was double-timing.

“You’re so fuckin’ cheesy.”

“But you love it, though.”

(That day, you both spent an extra hour looking for the ring when it somehow slipped off your finger and fell into the sand.)

Fall

“I’m just saying, sweetheart,” Mark said, his tone deep and gentle while he steadied you in his arms. “Maybe it’s best we put off the wedding, just a few months. It’s a lot coming at you right now.”

You shook your head, covering your mouth with trembling fingers.

“No,” you said eventually, but your words faltered along with your unsteady breaths in between. “No, he wouldn’t have wanted that. I just wish he, uh…could be there.”

You were a pillar of a woman, but no one could fault you for falling apart. Your father had been a lifelong smoker. He quit ten years ago, but it still caught up to him in his sixties, a severe case of COPD that he’d been trying to hide for months. It eventually withered him down to weeks of degeneration in a hospital bed, relying on oxygen masks that could no longer sustain him.

Your mother and sister had left the room for just half an hour to grab some coffee. You stayed behind.

You were alone with your father when he died. All you could do was hold his hand.

Now, all Mark could do was hold you. But he had to blink past a sharp pain, almost like a sudden migraine. Aftershocks reverberated through his skull, radiating from the right to the left.

He’d been dealing with less intense versions of the feeling for a month, but this time, it was like a small shiv between the eyes. It took him enough by surprise that it forced a grunt out of him, making him grimace and blink hard.

You picked your head up from his chest and met him with tearful eyes, frowning in concern.

“You okay?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Mark said. “Just a little headache.”

Winter

“Mark, you need to go to the doctor. You’ve gone through three bottles of Advil. That’s not normal.”

“Look, I told you already. I’m fine.”

“Yeah. That’s really convincing.”

“…Look, that’s Rachel pulling up. You ready to go?”

 You looked out the windows near the front door and saw your sister walking up the driveway. You blinked, like you both could and couldn't believe what you were seeing.

“Wow," you said. "She couldn’t have found a skimpier dress to check out the church. Who’s she trying to impress? The pastor’s already married.”

Mark snorted in amusement, but something soon occurred to him.

“Didn’t you tell me she and her boyfriend just broke up or something?”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with it?”

He shrugged. “Eh, I don’t know. She’s probably just looking for attention.”

You sighed. You loved your younger sister, but there were times when you wished she’d just grow up a little.

One appointment with Mark’s primary doctor led him to the oncologist. His entire inner world was leveled with just two words:

Glioblastoma Multiform.

Two words he couldn’t say to you.

It all rang between his ears…

The excitement in your voice when you told him how your last fitting went for the dress.

Faces he’d put behind bars. Years he’d scraped and clawed his way through bureaucratic bullshit, standing his ground against officers with more power than him, but never as much heart.

Your raw, broken grief when you watched your father waste away from the absolute monument of a man he’d been.

How was Mark supposed to level your world too?

He kept it all inside. And like the master of improv he was, he faked enthusiasm for a joint bachelor-bachelorette weekend.

One late night. One fifth of whiskey at the hotel bar turned into numbers he stopped counting—until the Captain reminded him.

You’ve got someone waiting for you. Don’t take that for granted.

He needed to find you.

Somehow, he made it to the elevator by himself. Third floor. Room 304, 305, 306. Fuck. Was it 309?

The door opened, and his addled fucking brain thought it was you at first. She almost had your eyes, if just half the sincerity of your smile.

Rachel welcomed him in and shut the door. He stumbled at the threshold, and she stopped him from falling completely onto the floral-patterned carpet.

“Oh my God, Mark. You okay?”

No. And he knew he wasn’t ever gonna be okay.

But her hands were warm, carving sensuous paths under his leather jacket without him realizing.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

AN: 🫣 I know, I know - I'm sorry it's not my usual happy ending. 💔 But! I am working on a second part to this for @waynes-multiverse, who also requested Mark Meachum for the 5K Celebration...though that one's gonna be even angstier than this one loll 😅 (but maaaybe with a kind of happy ending?)

In the meantime, what did you think of this drabble? Don't you wish we could've stayed in Summer? ❤️‍🩹

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Mark Meachum Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

I haven't built out the Mark Meachum tag list just yet, but he's now available on my Tag List form, for anyone who wants to add themselves.

For this post, I'll just include the Dean Winchester tag list and some others who I think are interested in Mark Meachum. Next round, I'll only tag people who want in on the tag list.

@lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28

@midnightmadwoman @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @waywardxwords @twinkleinadiamondsky

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@stoneyggirl2 @cheynovak @jollyhunter @deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog

@leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad @kmc1989 @siampie

@masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005

@impala-dreamer @spnaquakindgdom @my-stories-vault @0ccvltism @bettystonewell

@bleuatlas @podiumackles @samslvrgirl

[sereia4skz]

Hiii I'm in love with your headcannons! Could I request an imagine/scenario/headcannon with the Stray kids members where reader subdrops emotionally after a particularly rough session? Would love to see their reactions anf how they would comfort and take care of reader 🥰

headcannons | you subdrop after a scene

pairing: ot8!straykids x reader

genre: comfort

warnings: implied sex, subdrop

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

It was a rougher session than usual, emotionally intense, a little humiliating, and just physically overwhelming. Once the adrenaline and endorphins fade, you're quiet, teary, feeling distant, classic signs of subdrop. 

BANGCHAN

He notices immediately. The second your energy shifts, he’s wrapping you in a blanket and sitting you in his lap like you’re breakable.

“There you go, baby. I’ve got you. You don’t have to be okay yet.” His voice is gentle but grounded, guiding you through it. He’ll whisper affirmations: "I'm so proud of you," "You're safe now," "You're not alone." 

He doesn't leave your side for a second, even carries you to the bathroom or helps you get cleaned up. Expect forehead kisses, water with a straw, and his shirt draped over your body.

Ultimate comfort dom. No guilt, no shame, just unconditional love. He almost love this more than the sex.

LEEKNOW

He feels it before you even speak. One look at your expression and he’s already wiping your face with a warm cloth and cradling your hand.

Minho doesn’t say much at first, he just does. He gets you a glass of water, your favorite snacks, and a heating pad if you need it. When you finally sniffle or lean into him, he cups your cheek and murmurs, “That was a lot, wasn’t it, sweetheart? Thank you for trusting me.”

He’ll spoon you silently under five blankets, surrounded by the kittens, until you fall asleep, hand tracing your back, whispering little comforts like “Still with me? Still mine?”

CHANGBIN

Panic mode, but contained. His first instinct is to fix it. He gets you warm clothes, tissues, and cuddles you with his whole chest.

“Hey, hey, come here, you're okay. I’ve got you, baby. Nothing’s wrong, I’m here.”

His tone is firm but affectionate. He’d rock you back and forth, even if you're just holding onto him without speaking. He's freaking out internally wondering if he used too much strength.

If you cry, he does too, quietly, behind your shoulder, because he hates seeing you hurting, especially when it might’ve been caused by something he did (even consensually). He’ll probably apologize a hundred times even though it wasn’t his fault.

HYUNJIN

Softest, gentlest presence imaginable. He immediately wraps you up in something plush and tucks you against his chest, whispering in your ear.

“You were so good, baby. So brave. Do you want to talk? Or just want me to hold you?”

He’ll stroke your hair, pet your cheeks, rock you gently. He might hum to soothe you, quiet lullabies or just soft breathing to help regulate yours.

Tells you over and over how much he adores you. “You’re mine, okay? I’ll always take care of you.”

He takes the drop very seriously. His aftercare game is god-tier, lotions, snacks, fuzzy socks, emotional validation. The aftercare equivalent of being romanced into bed, roses and candles.

HAN

Full-body guilt spiral if he thinks he pushed you too far, even though he knows it was consensual. He gets quiet, eyes scanning you nonstop.

“Shit- hey, are you okay? Wait, no, dumb question! Come here.”

 He wraps you up immediately, rocking you, holding your hands. He babbles soft reassurances slightly too loudly, to keep you grounded: “You’re safe, you’re mine, we’re good, yeah? You did so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Might cry with you, honestly. But then he makes it his mission to bring you back to yourself, blankets, giggles, warm food, cuddles. Will 100% turn into a baby koala and not leave your side until you laugh at least once.

FELIX

Sweetest touch, lowest voice, he goes ultra nurturing. As soon as he sees your eyes go hazy or teary, he’s cupping your face gently.

“Angel… are you dropping? Come here, let’s breathe together.”

He holds you so tenderly it feels holy. He’ll lie with you chest-to-chest, heartbeat to heartbeat, stroking your hair and whispering affirmations: “You’re so safe with me. Thank you for letting me see all of you. You’re not alone.” 

If you need words, he gives them. If you need quiet, he gives that too. He’ll do little things like kiss your hands, make you tea, keep the lights dim and music soft.

SEUNGMIN

He notices the second your eyes go distant. You don’t even have to say anything, he sits you up, helps you get comfortable, and holds your face between his hands.

“Hey. Look at me. You with me?”

Once he’s sure you’re grounded, he bundles you up and just sits with you. He’s not overly emotional, but he gives you exactly what you need: reassurance without condescension.

“It’s okay to feel weird right now. That’s normal, love. I’ve got you.” 

 He’ll feed you little snacks, give you quiet space if you need it, and offer soft, real praise like: “You were amazing tonight. I’m proud of how strong you are.”

I.N

He freezes for a second if it’s his first time seeing you drop, but then his caretaker instincts kick in hard.

“Oh no, no, come here. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

 He’ll get serious real fast, guiding you to breathe, gently rocking you against his chest while rubbing your back. His voice gets lower, steady, trying to be your anchor.

“You’re safe. You’re mine. It’s okay to cry, baby.”

He'll sit with you through every wave of emotion, keeping you wrapped in his hoodie or his arms or both.

Later, when you’re calmer, he’ll kiss your forehead and pout. “Don’t scare me like that. Tell me next time, okay? I wanna take care of you right.”

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss

taglist pt2: @zayn-210 @wolfhallows4 @katsukis1wife @sammhisphere

[katebishopsbaefy]

would u be ok writing smth where reader comes home after a rough day and billie and reader have a very playful relationship like always teasing and joking, so billie was basically teasing and joking and stuff like normal. but when billie realizesthat she was making it worse and that her girlfriend is upset and not in a teasing joking mood, then billie feels bad and comforts her from everything?

Bad Day

billie eilish x reader

summary: you have a horrible day and it takes billie a little too long to realize how tired you are

warnings: reader gets called fat as a joke, angst and then fluff😖

word count: 3k

You and Billie had never not joked around; play fighting like little kids do, screaming at each other and then cackling your asses off because neither of you could be serious for more than a minute, calling each other names that had your parents shooting you looks. You’d both guessed they just didn’t understand your shared wicked sense of humor.

That doesn’t mean it never became too much, though.

One particular day, it felt like you might never get home. A bright and early 7 a.m. photoshoot led right into interview after interview with rude directors and paparazzi nagging you every waking second. Your social battery had never been good at keeping up with your busy work schedule, but this seemed like the worst of it for whatever reason (well, it’s probably because you hadn’t gotten much sleep… maybe you should’ve thought about the consequences of staying up all night with Billie). 

The absolute last straw came near the end of your last booking for the day; you’d asked someone to grab you a coffee because you’d been so dead on your feet all day that it felt like it was killing you to stand. You’d been too tired to even realize what happened, but before you knew it, hot coffee was covering the front of your body, soaking your clothes and ruining them while burning your skin in the process. You’d just smiled and waved the assistant off, mumbling something polite about having an extra shirt in your car. An absolute lie. But you were way too tired to deal with another person for one second longer than necessary.

Naturally, all you’d been dreaming about on the long drive home was curling up with Billie and falling asleep in her lap. It had been a horrible day, but you figured you could at least get a solid nap in.

When you walk in, though, Billie doesn’t seem to be in that comfy-needy-touchy-feely mood that you were in.

She’s lounging, practically man-spreading on the couch, all laid out in a way that might make you blush if you weren’t on the verge of tears. A gaming controller is being furiously clicked at in her hands as she plays some game you don’t recognize up on the TV. She’s got Kelly Clarkson blasting through the whole house, which you’d usually giggle at and belt along to, but right now, it’s just giving you a headache. It smells like something’s burnt, too, like maybe she tried to cook something but it didn’t work out. On top of all of that, Shark, her dog, is barking at something through the back door. It’s all just an overstimulating nightmare.

She doesn’t immediately look up when you come in, but she does smile and call a loud “Heyyyyy” over the music. You don’t respond, but she doesn’t really notice. Your shoes are kicked off as quickly as possible, and you make a beeline for your bedroom upstairs, but she calls out to you again; “Hey, hey, hey, wait. Come back.” It’s not demanding; moreso, it just sounds like she wants to see your face before you run off. Unfortunately, it makes you way more annoyed and upset than it should.

You trudge your way over to her, wiping away the beginnings of tears from your eyes. You plant yourself in front of her in what you assume to be a reasonable spot, but her neck cranes to see behind you, and she places a gentle, but firm hand on your hip to push you to the side. “Move over,” she murmurs, and you know she doesn’t mean to be so harsh; she’s just in the zone. In fact, she kisses your head when you flop down next to her defeatedly to make sure you know she didn’t intend to be so mean about moving you away from the television. But her tone makes you get all teary-eyed again, and she doesn’t hear you sniffle. 

After a long five minutes of sitting, fiddling with your fingers, and holding back tears, she finally dies in her game, letting out a quiet string of curses. The second she turns to you, though, she’s all smiles and giggles… just not exactly in that gentle way you need her to be. Her arms reach out to wrap around your waist, and you lean into it, assuming it’s a hug. It only takes about two seconds for her fingers to jab into your sides, something that would normally make you squeal and giggle. You don’t this time. You’re absolutely not in the mood, but you know if you talk to tell her to chill out, she’ll hear the lump in your throat, and then you’ll surely end up crying your eyes out. Most of all, you don’t want to ruin her good mood by being dramatic. So instead, you squeak and shove her hands away, skipping the giggling all together. She doesn’t notice.

“I missed you,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. It’s just gentle at first, but then she nips at it, sinking her teeth into your skin before you push her head away like you always do. She just doesn’t notice that it’s not playful this time. You know she loves to bite you (gently, of course) as some form of affection, but right now, you’re too tired for anything other than sleep.

She’s obviously in a great mood, though, because she stands up abruptly and practically skips to the kitchen right as your pinky had been reaching for hers. You’re just trying to get her to notice that you need more quiet in a way that won’t make you sob, but it’s proving to be increasingly difficult. She keeps missing your signals.

Of course, the first thing she does when she prances into the kitchen is rile Shark up even more than he already is. He’s still barking at something in the backyard, and Billie decides it would be hilarious to chase him around the room until he’s barking non-stop. Every loud sound from the dog feels like it’s splitting your head in half. You love her, and you love how loud she is, but at the moment, you’re holding back sobs. Everything about this is overwhelming beyond belief to you… you just can’t figure out a way to voice that to her before you break. 

And then, of course, she decides she wants to jab at you like she always does. Little jokes that would usually have you giggling and glaring playfully at her just seem like a punch to the gut right now. She grabs her phone, starting to scroll through something as she calls from the kitchen; “I’m gonna order pizza.” A very normal thing for someone who just burned the hell out of two grilled cheeses to say. Then, she adds, “I’ll have to get two for your fat ass,” and again, “Or maybe just salad. I think you need it.”

She punctuates every statement with a giggle that tells you she is 100%, absolutely kidding. There is nothing in her tone to indicate to you that she actually believes anything she just said. But for whatever reason, that’s what does you in. 

Billie only looks up from her phone when she hears you sniffling, and she’s met with a sight that makes her stomach drop to her ass; you, standing in the middle of the living room, frowning so deeply that it looks like your eyes may pop out of your head. Your lips trembles violently even though you’re biting at the flesh to try to stop it. The tears are coming before you can stop them, and the worst part to her is that you don’t look mad. Not even mildly annoyed. You just look sad. 

It looks like every cell in her body that had the urge to poke fun at you dies in an instant. She’s putting her phone down and padding over to you before you can even process the heavy waves of tears falling from your eyes, and you almost don’t even realize you’re crying at all until a sob shakes your shoulders. 

Her hand reaches for yours, and she tugs you right into her chest, rubbing your back as your cries start to take over. Her voice sounds confused as hell, but so much softer than a moment ago, and it honestly just makes you want to cry more. “W-wait- oh, fuck. Shit, I’m sorry, baby. I was just joking. I don’t think you’re fat. I think you look great. You always look so pretty. Body goals, one might say…” she rambles on quietly, but trails off when she realizes this is much heavier than whatever she just said to you. Something’s really, deeply upsetting you, and it makes her chest ache. It fills her with this urge to make it all better. “Okay, okay… shhhh… c’mere, mama. I’ve got you,” she murmurs into your hair, picking you up by sliding her hands under your thighs and cradling you to her chest as best she can. 

Your body melts all the way into hers immediately, and it only serves to strengthen her worry; you wouldn’t do that if you were annoyed at her, so it solidifies that something else is truly wrong. Her warm hand rubs your back so softly that it’s almost sickening, but in the best way possible. Just from the way you burrow into her and curl up on yourself, she can tell you’re just overstimulated, and she’s trying to find that balance between making it better and making it worse. Nothing’s helping, though. You’re at the point where you just need to cry it out.

So that’s exactly what she lets you do.

She scoops you right up and takes you upstairs where everything feels easier to process; it doesn’t smell burnt, there’s no dog barking, and no music blasting through the halls. It’s quiet. Her feet pad softly on the floor as she takes you into the bedroom, and it feels like that’s the only sound other than your quiet sniffles and hiccups. 

She keeps you curled up on her chest as she plops the two of you down on the bed and sets you up with your ear right over her heart. It gives you something quiet and constant to focus on rather than spiraling. Or, that’s what she’s assuming, at least. She knows it helps her when she gets this tired and overwhelmed, so she’s praying it’ll help you, too. 

It takes a long while, but eventually, your sobs quiet into soft hiccups, and then sniffles, and then quiet, shuddered breaths. She doesn’t ask for a single thing from you the entire time; just sits quietly, rubs your back, kisses your head every once in a while. She turns on the overhead fan when it gets a little too quiet. Makes sure the lights aren’t bright enough to hurt your head. Silently vows not to move until you do.

It takes even longer, but eventually, your head lifts from her chest, and she;s met with the sight of your eyes all puffy from your tears and your lip still trembling. She doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so she doesn’t move an inch. Her hands stay wrapped around your back as you murmur in your sleepy, shaky, watery voice, “I- I’m sorry f-for ruinin’ the night.”

Her chest aches so badly that she could cry. A fresh wave of tears well up in your own eyes, but before they fall, her tentative hands cup your cheeks and wipe them away. Her touch is so incredibly warm and soft, unlike the teasing from earlier. She simply shakes her head at your mumble and presses a kiss to your hairline. “Shhhh, shut up. No you didn’t,” she says, and her voice doesn’t have the same tone as earlier. It’s not teasing, or trying to rile you up. It;’s still firm, but you can tell it’s just because she wants to make sure you know how she’s feeling, That she doesn’t think you ruined the night.

She pulls back when you don’t make any additional comments, and takes a good look at you for the first time all night. You’ve got that haze in your eyes that you get when you’re overwhelmed beyond belief. There’s a very blatant coffee stain on your shirt. Your eyelids look more red than usual; not just puffy from crying, but irritated like you’ve been rubbing at them all day. You look exhausted.

Wordlessly, she scoops you back up, and you don’t question her. She has that look in her eye: the soft one. The one that tells you she knows exactly what you need, and she’s absolutely determined to make you feel better.

She carries you into the bathroom, kissing your head over and over and rubbing your back the whole way, doing everything in her power to keep you from crying again. You don’t even have to ask; the second she’s in the bathroom, she’s setting you on the counter to start running a warm bath, all one-handed (she has the other hand resting in your lap so you can hold it while she sets everything up. She’s desperate to make you feel okay).

She grabs two towels and fills the bathtub with that bath bomb of hers you always say smells nice, and then gently works your clothes off and brushes your hair out. Then she’s gently lowering you into the tub, climbing in behind you right after and tucking you back against her chest. The water’s warm. Just the right temperature to not burn your skin, but enough to relax your muscles. She really knows everything about you, including the exact temperature you like your baths at.

For a long few moments, it’s quiet. Only the sound of quiet breathing, occasional kisses to your head, and the fan from the bedroom fill the air. Billie doesn’t move much. Doesn’t try to wash your hair, or hold you too tight, or do anything she thinks might push your limits. All she does is keep her arms wrapped around your middle so you can feel her and know she’s there. She wants to give you a while to relax and get your breathing back to normal after all the crying you did. You could fall asleep right here. That is, until the quietest, softest, most caring whisper breaks the silence, “...Bad day?”

She doesn’t expect much from you, so when you carefully, sleepily twist your body to curl up further into her chest, she’s pleasantly surprised. “The worst,” your small, watery voice mumbles back, and the sound of your voice makes her heart speed up and ache at the same time. It feels good to know you feel good enough to speak a little more, but you sound so tired. 

She doesn’t speak for another long moment, not wanting to overwhelm you with too much conversation at once. She can tell you’re exhausted. Once she feels you’re okay enough to keep talking, though, she asks, “Was it work? Or… me?”

She sounds timid, and it makes you frown. Timid is the last word anyone on planet earth would use to describe her, but that’s how she sounds right now. She’s afraid of your answer. You know you can’t lie; she’s all about communication, so you want to try. For her. “M-Mostly work. B-but… I think you made it w-worse,” your quiet voice sounds through the quiet, and her heart drops.

“...O-okay, okay. That… that’s good. Was it what I said?” she asks, and you can hear the hurt in her voice, but it’s quickly replaced by genuine concern. She wants to know what she did wrong so she won’t do it again.

At that, your hand weakly reaches for hers, and the feeling immediately makes her heart hurt a little less. She can tell right then that you aren’t mad at her; you’re just tired and need some TLC. You try to think genuinely about what set off your tears, and eventually mutter; “um… y-yeah, I guess. I know you were just jokin’, but I was already kind of upset from work. I-it was really loud in here, too, a-and I think you were too rough. Made everythin’ worse.”

She takes note of that immediately, and it definitely clicks for her. You hadn’t giggled when she tased you with her fingers or nipped at your neck, and you hadn’t come through the door belting to the music she had on like she’d expected. There were signs you’d been too tired to function; she just hadn’t noticed. 

You can see the gears turning in her head, so you add in a quiet, but sincere voice; “I p-probably could’ve told you how I was feelin’ when I came home. M’sorry.”

She snaps out of her little thinking bubble, and smiles so softly at you that it makes your insides melt. Her lips press to your temple, and her hand squeezes yours. Her free palm runs up and down your back to remind you to keep taking deep breaths after such a long cry. “That’s okay, babygirl. Not your fault. I wasn’t listening very well in the first place… but I think it would be easier for both of us to just say it up front,” she murmurs in that soft voice, messing with your fingers the whole time. 

Your lungs still feel so out of whack from so much crying, but your head and heart feel better. You let a tiny smile tug at your lips for the first time all night, and your fingers squeeze hers to tell her you understand. This is good, you think. Communication is good. You’ll both be better at this next time, whether it’s you or Billie getting overwhelmed. It’s nice to think about.

Your social battery has about run out for the day, though, so Billie makes sure to take extra good care of you. She lets you rest in the warm tub for a while, washes your hair, dries you off, even does your skincare routine. She’s memorized all the steps for times like these. And, of course, she rubs your back and kisses your head until you fall asleep on her chest, finally getting in that nap you’ve needed all day long.

a/n: this is the longest thing i've ever wrote so it's very loosely proofread please just ignore any mistakes😘

[ssentimentals]

hi love! i hope you're having a lovely day today^^ i'd like to request angsty woozi with prompt 16 pls. thank you so so muchhhh 🫶🏼

hi, darling! thank you, hope you're having a lovely day too! thank you for requesting, hopefully you'll like it! 💜

prompt: 'i'm so mad at you for this, but i'm angrier at myself for knowing i'll forgive you for it.'

the truth about loving someone is that sometimes it's not easy and it doesn't come as natural breathing.

'i'm not sorry,' you repeat like a broken record.

yeah, it's not easy, especially now. 'i was as surprised as you when she got there. i told you that me and my ex are running in the same circles and our meeting at some point was inevitable. i told you that me and her are cool-'

'well i am not cool with her,' you interrupt with voice full of venom. 'and she clearly is not cool with me, so.'

jihoon's right eyebrow twitches. he takes a deep breath. 'why would she be cool with you if you were mean to her the whole night?'

you don't reply, not at first. jihoon usually has an ocean of patience reserved for you, but now this ocean turned into a little poodle which is quickly getting dry. you never acted like that, hell, he didn't know you're capable of acting like that - mean, rude, brushing the person off like they're an empty place. and jihoon knows his ex acted off too, he was shocked when she started getting all touchy, but he could handle it. the whole point was in him handling it and he would've, he'd never want for you to feel insecure or get any wrong ideas because his heart is so full of you that there's no place for anyone else. and he would've made it clear to both you and his ex, but then you decided that you came over with a solid decision of acting like the world's brattiest and meanest girlfriend and- well. jihoon is not exactly impressed.

'at least now she knows that she can't just walk over and start climbing my boyfriend like a tree,' you huff petulantly.

'i was handling it,' jihoon grits out, trying not to lose his patience. 'i-'

'you weren't quick enough!'

jihoon stares at your stubbornly raised chin and thinks that he should be mad. he is mad, he's unbelievably angry because you are better than that, better than those mean and petty remarks, better than getting insecure because of the other girl. he thinks that he shouldn't feel the fondness warming his chest at the sight, but he does. 'i'm so mad at you for this, but i'm angrier at myself for knowing i'll forgive you for it.'

and that's the truth, isn't it? because deep down he knows that he should've closed the chapter with his ex better, much better so you'd never even have a fleeting thought about her in your head. he knows you're not that - this mean, rude, petty person - and he knows that if it all came down to it, there's his huge part that did something wrong in the equation. jihoon is mad: at you for acting up, at himself for letting this happen, at himself for not being able to actually truly be angry at you for this. loving someone isn't easy and doesn't always come as natural as breathing, but loving you is a one constant thing in his life.

'i'm sorry,' you mutter and when he looks up in surprise, you quickly add: 'not for what i did, but for the way it made you feel. i never want you to feel... like that.'

he chuckles. there goes his angel. you take small step towards him with eyes blown out with fear that he might reject you. and jihoon can be as mad as he wants, but rejecting you is something he can't do. 'i'm really angry,' he says, taking your hand in his. 'it- it showed you in such a bad light and i don't want other people thinking that this is how you are because it's not.'

you soften, stepping even closer so your noses almost brush. 'i don't care about other people. i acted rough, i can admit it. but that girl didn't get any other hints, you were being too nice and she understood it in the wrong way.' you lean in, kissing tip of his nose cutely. 'sorry.'

jihoon sags. he should fight it more, probably. but he really can't. 'no more acting like a crazy girlfriend to my exes.'

'uh, how many exes do you have?' you ask and then giggle when he glares at you. 'kidding, kidding. yeah, okay. pinky promise.'

maybe it shouldn't be enough but it is. jihoon wraps his arms around you and you hug him back tighty, clearly pleased that he's not mad anymore. sighing, he kisses your temple. loving someone isn't easy, but not when that someone is you.

a/n: why do you guys don't come back and tell me what you think :( you request and then disappear and i'm saaad :( - nini

my other seventeen works are here

request your own here

[brokenbough]

Hear me out plsplsplspls new to 141 fem reader not interacting with the boys at all outside of missions like doesn't eat with them runs off somewhere else and when they confront her turns out she's just a social awkward loner who doesn't know how to talk to men (projecting)

Ofc! :)

--

Price picked his team. That was one of the few things he was in control of in this shitty, three-dimensional world. His team, his people.

Then... you came along. Shy, and socially awkward. Everything his team didn't need. Not to mention that you were a woman.

Now, Price wasn't one to discriminate, let alone on gender, he works with Laswell on almost every mission for God's sake, but your more than meek demeanor was just the icing on the toppling cake that you were.

He'd met you exactly once before letting you meet his boys (against his will of course), and it led him to one conclusion that he couldn't deny anymore:

You were soft. And soft got you killed in the field.

"This is the new Sergeant you're working with. Treat her uh... kindly." He says, short and clipped like he has somewhere better to be. He does. Many places in fact.

You nod to them, head held high, but mouth sewed shut with a tight jaw. You. Were. Sweating.

Someone clears their throat, the one with the mohawk. "W-welcome uh.. lass." He says, painfully Scottish. Cute though, you guess. "Soap." He says. Just his name. "Or- uh MacTavish if you.. want."

You nod to him specifically, hoping the pink isn't spreading up to your face. You don't say anything, turning to the one next to him.

Brown, cute too. Were they all this handsome? Jeez. You nodded to him as well and he raised his hand in silent greeting. "Gaz."

Then right behind him, leaned against the corner. You nodded to him as well, eyes focused on his chest. You saw the fabric move slightly; he nodded back.

You turn back to the captain, watching him nod again before dismissing the lot of you, except you of course.

You feel your blood rush before you sit down, watching the loose button on his shirt.

"Sir-- Captain." You correct, looking over and back.

He sighs like he doesn't want to talk, let alone talk to you. "I'm gonna be honest with ya. I don't want you here. I pick my team, not get stuck with... noobies who don't know a mag from a clip." He says.

"Uhm. Respectfully.. uh-- captain. We learn the difference in uh.. basic training. A-and I've been.. uh.. you know... deployed before. So... I'm sorry to be an inconvenience... but I'm not a stupid inconvenience." You explain politely, meeting his eyes for only a second, your leg bouncing under the table.

"Right." He exasperates. "Dismissed."

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

You find yourself alone as usual, maybe your nose in a book at the library, or eating when the rest of the 141 wasn't around.

You figured if the captain didn't like you, his subordinates definitely won't. And even if they did, they wouldn't want a woman on their team, strong or weak. But you wouldn't waste your time trying to convince them of either, you'd just stick to yourself and shoot when needed. Watch their back when called for, but drink by yourself when the op ended.

Gaz, maybe even Soap would drop by your room when they went out, but you always declined, stuttering, face down, and just trying to get your door shut again.

They didn't know what the matter was, what was wrong with you. Soap was even taking offense to his people skills because he could not get you out of your shell.

"I mean-- most women are open- especially with me, yknow what I mean-- but seriously, I can't tell what makes her tick." Soap complains, leaning back into the seat of the local bar in Southern Mexico. Oaxaca.

"Maybe she just likes her alone time; like Ghostie over here." Gaz comments, patting Ghost on the shoulder, getting an disapproving grunt.

"Or maybe she doesn't like us, huh? I mean, some people have been less welcoming." Soap continues, eyes his captain.

"I don't do transfers. I pick my team." Price defends nonchalantly.

The group goes back and forth on how to get you out, plotting and planning on how to get you to have one drink with them, the ploys getting more and more deranged as the drinks flow.

"Cmon big man. Give at least one suggestion." Gaz slurs, rocking into his more than sober lieutenant.

He clears his throat, pushing his sergeant into his other. "You could always ask her what she wants."

"Women don't say what they mean, you know that." Price huffs.

"Don't knock it till ya try it Cap'n."

"And what do ye kno bout communicatin' Lt.?"

"Works better than you think." He deflects before dragging them all out and driving(scary I know)them back to base so they didn't stumble somewhere else.

He shows up at your door the next day while they-- sober-- conjure up more ideas on how to get you out, his tipping point being one of them suggesting pulling the fire alarm.

He leaves the room without a word, not that any of them noticed or cared, too caught up in planning. The walk to your room is silent, most soldiers outside doing PT. Despite Price wanting you in the women's barracks, he ended up letting you stay with them, their own private barracks near the back of the base.

He knocked on your door firmly, stepping back some to give you space when you opened up.

Your startled face and demeanor was nothing short of awkward. It makes him cringe inwardly, but he knows how it is.

"Oh-- l-lieutenant. Uh. Hi? Can I uhm... help you?"

"I'm here to help you." He says blankly, looking at you.

"Oh. Uh.... with what?" You ask.

He stands there for a while, mulling over his words and trying to lock eyes with you but can't. His whole read on you is just: nervous.

"Do I make you nervous sergeant?" He asks suddenly.

"Uh- wha-what? N-nervous? A lot of things m-make me nervous. Yknow, haha, like any other p-person." You squeak out, resisting the urge to close the door you are still hiding behind on your superior.

So, yes. He thinks to himself.

"Johnny and Gaz are planning on literally dragging you our your room to hang with them. Be advised." He says blankly before turning and leaving as you shut your door and melt into a puddle in your room.

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

With these new warnings, you make it a point to avoid them at any cost, even after missions. Especially after missions.

You silently thank the lieutenant with each day you narrowly get caught before he's there and calling them off somewhere else. He never looks at you, or tells you that he's protecting you from them, but you can't help but think of him as your own personal guardian angel.

You find yourself in his vicinity more often now, whether in the library or gym at odd hours, and you can't help but appreciate his silence because the last time you guys talked off mission, you were a stuttering mess who didn't seem to know English.

An embarrassment to put it bluntly.

But now, with just him, you can relax in the library without having to worry about a conversation, or work out without someone asking what you're listening to. It's smooth sailing. Until it's not. Because, of course, the 141, one of the most elite squads in the world, pick up on this.

"You're stealing the lassie away." Soap accuses.

"No, I'm not." Ghost says amused.

"Ye are. Yer always together."

"No, we arent." He defends again with much amusement.

"You two were just in the library together." Gaz includes, taking Johnny's side.

"I was reading. She happen to be there too."

"Lies." Soap scorns.

"Maybe if you gave her space, she wouldn't hole up in 'er room. Ever think o' that?" Ghost questions.

"Well, no-- but that's not the point."

"That's the whole point MacTavish."

Soap only huffs, glaring at his lieutenant the rest of dinner.

---

Soap finally takes the hint to back off of you, instead waiting for you like a wounded animal. You make the grave mistake of trusting this... silent offering and find yourself in a loud bar with louder music surrounded by even louder and drunk men. Your worst nightmare.

Soap is speaking Scottish gibberish, Gaz is asking you a million drunken questions, Price is passed out in the seat, and your only safe place: Ghost, is gone. Maybe to the bathroom or to hopefully start up the car so you can leave.

"Cmoooon lass, telll mee your storryy." Gaz rumbles in your ear, brown skin glowing under the yellow light bulbs of the pub.

"I-I don't really have-- uhm. A story." You say, leaning back from the booze on his breath.

"Everyonnee haas a storyy.." He slurs, sure of himself.

"Sorry to uh.. disappoint. I guess you can't be right on everything, haha..." you say, wishing you drank so you could atleast forget this entire night.

Gaz only stares at you, finding your not so much of a joke not so funny.

"Sorry." You squeak, looking away.

------

The ride home is silent, save for Price's, Soap's, and Gaz's snores in the back seat. You were more than uncomfortable in the front seat with your lieutenant, tipsy enough to say to just call him Ghost.

You lied back in you seat, trying to curl up and away from the sleepy men.

"You should tell them you're an introvert." He suddenly says.

"The last time I talked to them, I got into this mess." You huff, not stuttering a word before realizing who you were talking to. "R-respectfully. Uh, sir-- lieutenant-- fuck, Ghost." You say quickly.

He let's out a soft chuckle and you feel your face heat up.

"Sorry." You mumble.

He only hums, tapping against the steering wheel.

Fortunately, you all get back to base in one piece, helping Ghost carry in the drunken men.

You two part once you finally have Gaz into his bed, tucking him in before quickly leaving, hoping he didn't wake up.

Goodnights are swapped between the two of you before you finally collapse onto your bed, vouching to never say yes to a night out again.

---------

They finally get the memo of you being an introvert when they don't see you for 3 whole days on base after the night in the bar. You've been avoiding them and they feel bad. They know now not to bombard you with... well.. them, before asking permission. They try to make the most of your boundaries but sometimes when you stutter whenever one gets too close is too cute to pass up on every now again.

Other than that, you've opened up a bit more, telling them-- indirectly-- that you don't have many friends and weren't sure on how you react with being thrown into a bunch you wanted to do as much. They also figure your shyness with them comes from not having many friends, and in turn, not talking to a lot of guys throughout your years.

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

Hope you enjoyed, sorry its so long, idk how to write them short 🥲 sorry it also took me to long to write, I haven't really felt like writing nor knew how to go about this prompt

🖤🩶🤍

[ameriize]

I LOVE UR SUB ANTON FIC OMGGG FINALLY A DOM READER WRITER😭🤧

cld i pls req lightweight anton who drank too much while out w his frnds after an argument and he comes home drunk needy and sad so reader has to help😉him😉out😉 and comfort him cuz hes crying hehehehehhehej

IKKK RIGHT, I LITERALLY ONLY STARTED WRITING BC THERES BARELY ANY RIIZE DOM READER like damnn i’ll do it myself

i got a little carried away so it’s abit long apologies😛

also if you send an ask and you wanna be an anon with an emoji, add that in your ask !! i wanna be able to recognise you guys 🥹🥹

you and anton don’t usually argue. if there’s conflict, you both take time to yourselves them come back to discuss and fix. however, this time was different.

you’re not sure why you were so emotional this week, maybe because it had all been building up, but for the fifth time this week anton had forgotten to text you back. multiple conversations just left unfinished. you understand he’s busy but sending a text to tell you that would be better. you’ve brought it up in the past and he says the same low-effort statement of “i’ll get better baby i promise”

well he hadn’t. so you blew up on him after he came back home from work. a heated argument struck up between you two, with you raising your voice and him rolling his eyes and sighing at you. you told him not changing is a sign of not caring for your partner and he responded with telling you you’re overreacting.

one thing led to another, and he grabbed his keys and headed out, saying “i’m gonna go meet my friends. use this time to calm down baby because i’m not dealing with you right now. it’s too much”

it’s too much?? is he saying you’re too much?

the sadness and frustration that was bubbling up in you was better dealt with sleep.

however you couldn’t sleep. not when he hadn’t come home for 4 hours. it’s almost midnight and you were getting worried. he wasn’t picking up any of your calls which he never does. you were pacing up and down your living room trying to figure out what to do next.

just as you were about to dial the police to order a search party, you hear keys jangling in the main door.

you stand up, and walk towards the door to see a red faced, teary eyed anton, who was stumbling and swaying side to side whilst trying to walk in. you hurriedly walked over to him and quickly placed his arm around your neck, ignoring his strong smell of booze, and tried to help him settle down on the couch, but he grabbed you aswell. you both landed down and anton readjusted to lay on your chest, sticking to you like glue.

he’d been babbling about how he was sorry, sorry he hurt you, sorry he made you feel unloved, uncared for. tears were strolling down his face and landing on your chest. good thing your silk nightgown had a low cut neck.

“baby please forgive me. please. all i want is you. i never meant to hurt you. baby i love you so much. i’m so sorry”

“tonnie hey it’s okay it’s okay , i said stupid things too i’m sorry aswell. i’m just happy you’re okay my love”

you gently cupped his face, wiping his tears away. he looked so cute with a red flush on his cheeks, and his teary puffy eyes.

you gave him a peck on his eyes and then worked your way to his lips. you noticed he was being more responsive than usual when he’s drunk. he was shifting around a lot more and letting out more small whines as you kissed him.

“thank you baby thank you. i just- i just needed you so bad. all i could think of was you when i was out. i only wanted to be next to you.”

“aww tonnie you needed me?”

“yea, so bad. so so bad. i just wanted to feel you. just wanted you to have your hands on me.”

you forgot how needy he gets when he’s drunk.

“oh? where on you?”, you said, deciding to play along.

he buried his head deeper in your chest and shyly moved your hand closer to his dick, that was now stiff and throbbing.

“here. i needed you here. fuck please touch me baby please”

“i don’t know… you were pretty mean to me earlier?”

he whined at this and raised his head to look at you. tears threatened to fall from his eyes, barely hanging on by a thread.

“i’m so sorry baby please. i didn’t mean all that i said. i’m sorry please forgive me. i really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

now you had no choice but to take pity on him and comfort his poor self. i mean his dick was throbbing and pulsating so much for you.

you moved your hand past his trousers onto his boxers and began palming and squeezing his whole length, lightly but enough for him to feel it.

“ahhh!! fuck, yes!”

he started bucking up into your hand, desperate for more. after some minutes, he removed his trousers and boxers, per your request, and straightened his back on the couch. while maintaining eye contact, you straddled his legs and continued palming his dick.

but it wasn’t enough for him.

“shit shit baby please let me be inside. i need more. i need you”

you weren’t sure if you wanted him to wait and get even more desperate or fuck the life out of him. but he was so sad and remorseful, how couldn’t you side with the latter option?

you lifted up your nightgown then drew your lace panties to the side. anton watched you mesmerisingly, like you were the sun. he wanted nothing more than for you to bounce up and down his dick, making him take everything you give him. and you would do just that.

you hovered your cunt over his pulsing red hot tip and dragged his dick across but never putting it in. you could see him starting to get more restless, with whines and pleas leaving his mouth. then you finally inserted it in, and slowly sunk down on his whole length.

“ohhhhh fuck.” he moaned, eyes rolling back.

you begun to move, grinding back and forth, so slowly. it was agonising for him.

“please move my love. fuck i need you to fuck me faster baby please”, he whined, tears once again threatening to fall.

you decided you’ve tortured him long enough so you started moving, slamming yourself down with every movement. strings of delicious moans, whimpers, “yes”s and “fuck fuck fuck”s , fell out of his mouth. you felt so fucking good and anton wasn’t sure if he could hold it any longer.

“baby i’m close i’m so fucking close. please can i cum?”

“no. not yet. hold it for me like a good boy okay?” you said in his ear, then you dragged your tongue up his ear. he shivered and whimpered, and whined, “please baby. i can’t hold it anymore, i really can’t! it’s too much, it feels too good!”

“don’t you wanna be good for me?”

fuck yes he does. he always wants to be good for you.

“yes yes yes i do. i’m your good boy.”

“good. so then wait and take it.”, you said, authoritatively but still in a soft tone. you placed your hand over his mouth and started roughly riding him, making his dick hit that spot that felt like heaven.

anton swore he could see stars. the stimulation was too much, and his dick was about to explode. muffled, high pitched moans - borderline screams at this point - filled the air, as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“fuck”, you moaned, “anton i want you to cum with me. okay baby?”

he nodded his head rapidly, praying and begging for you to cum all over his dick already. you removed your hand from his mouth and placed it in his hair, grabbing a few locks. he shuddered at this.

“i’m cumming, tonnie! cum inside me!”

“fuck fuck fuck fuckkkkk!”, he whined, with his eyes rolled back in his head, back arching off the couch as he shot his hot load inside you, filling you all the way up.

you both came down from your high, chest heaving. he kissed you softly, hand cupping your face.

“thank you baby”, he whispered.

you hummed in return and just as you were about to get off him, he stopped you.

“let’s just stay like this. i don’t wanna be away from you.”, he said sincerely, looking up at you with the most adorable puppy eyes.

you laid your head against his chest and snuggled in.

“i really am sorry for earlier. i should’ve never left, and i should’ve never hurt you in the first place. you know i love you right?”

“yeah, i know anton.”, you said with a smile.

a/n : hope that you like it anon !! not sure if it’s how you wanted it to be so, sorry for that :( also send in asks plssssssss and let me know what you think🙏

[trashy-reaper]

Hello!! Just saw ur post so I decided to send an request (bc I'm bored)

And for the requested can u do forsaken survivors x reader thats like reisen from touhou project

And if u don't know who is reisen u should search it up btw

And thats all and don't rush writing on that just take ur time writing and if don't want to write it thats ok ☁️☁️

Hello hello, I hope I got Reisens personality and such well, did my best. I found out there's 2 characters called that apparently? But I did the one who showed up first, feel free to request again if it was the other one. Thanks for the request!!

Characters may be OOC as I am kinda new to the Forsaken fandom + this would be my first time writting for it but I hope I do them justice! If I get any info wrong, typos/mistakes in writing ect, correct me!! I don't mind :) (Just be kind as I probably didn't know </3)

(Written with romantic in mind but this can be read as either platonic or romantic)

Not Proof Read

Noob

They were a bit curious about you when you first showed up. Their attention was quick to float to your ears. Though they wouldn't dare ask to pet them. They figured it would probably be well...not ideal. To be honest, they were a bit shy to talk to you, not that you were scary or even that they fell in love at first sight, they just aren't used to meeting new people after enduring the Spectres "Game" for so long. He feels like they lost their ability to communicate with more people outside of the other survivors.

Your first true "meeting" may be the first round you started in, the abilities you seemed to have were more supportive. Being able to heal them and stunning the enemy. It was all very helpful and they experienced it first hand when you were quick to their rescue, healing them before stunning the killer to let them get away. Despite your short time here you were able to get the hand of your abilities.

They don't mind your acting differently, I feel they'd catch on it's usually based on what's happening. They'd ask once or twice about how you truly act underneath everything but is completely understanding if you don't want to. They want you to be comfortable as he knows the circumstances right now are...less than ideal. They're patient with you, especially when they finds out you don't easily get along with humans as you came from somewhere else. They'll give you time though, they try to get you to be more comfortable as who knows how long it'll take before you can escape?

Guest 1337

A bit on edge, not that he thinks you're a killer, there's a reason why the Spectre put you with them after all, but you don't seem to get along with most of the survivors, not only that but how you act seems different sometimes, he does notice it'll change depending on the situation and/or who you're talking too but he wants to know the true you. He won't pry if you don't want him too but he'll keep an eye on you just encase.

Your abilities in rounds is incredibly useful, if or when the two of you ever team up to help another survivor both of your stuns help them get away, and being able to heal him and others is always a plus. As time goes on and you slowly seem to get more and more along with others, the more rounds the two of you spend with each other the more he lowers his guard around you. The less on edge he is with you.

He wants to build trust with all the survivors, and as cheesy as it may be, if they ever want to escape, teamwork will be their best option which is why he was a bit cautious when he noticed your initial attitude to the others and how differently you acted, it seemed as though you didn't trust them yet either, but with how long you've been here he's figured that's changed.

Chance

Didn't meet you until the start of the new round, he'd racked up a high stack weakness and was sure he was a goner, the killer hot on his trail until you showed up quickly stunning the enemy. Grabbing his hand and running off before the stun cooldown was over. You had brought him over to Elliot and with 2 healers now on his side he was able to gain back the HP he had lost.

He finds you quite amazing, tries chatting with you outside of rounds, asking about you. He did notice your hesitation which he later found out was because you weren't from Robloxia. That didn't stop him from trying to talk to you, you were stuck with them after all. Besides, seeing you help them and other survivors in rounds? You're not a bad person, you just need time.

If or when you two become closer friends they promise you that if or when you escape he'll take you to his favourite places. If this was your first time on Earth, then that's not a good impression. He'll show you how it's really like if you'd let him.

Two Time

They're so excited to meet you, it's been awhile since they had a new survivor with them. They're quick to try and tell you about the Spawn but can't continue as the round starts. They'll make sure to inform you when you're out.

You two make a good team they reckon, your stuns allow them to preform back stabs better. As long as they stick by your side they'll be able to land each one and they can't help but thank you each time. Expect them to follow you around if they know a killer is near, it'll benefit the both of you they promise!!

They don't mind how you seem to switch up how you act, they can quickly see it's just you adapting to what's happening and honestly? They kind admire that, plus you're listening to them whenever they ramble. Whether or not if it's even about the Spawn so you're good in their books for now. They'll be honoured if you showed your true colours to them.

007n7

"Not another one..." was all he thought when you came into the cabin, he's not annoyed by your presence, far from it. He almost feels calmer when you're around but his annoyance is directed at the very thing making them do these games. There didn't need to be another survivor, there wasn't a need to bring someone into this damn hell again. He pushes that aside and helps you settle in the best he can.

He does his best to explain everything to you, and he isn't fazed by how you act, he's patient with you as you learn to be more comfortable around them. He knows it's hard to settle in and he'd hate if the other survivors disliked you in anyway, he truly hopes what he does is helping you.

Before rounds, he lets you know that one of his kids is a killer. Calmly explaining why, he figured the more you knew about the killers the better, perhaps you can help plan strategies so no more deaths happen. If the killer is C00lkid he'll try to draw his attention away from you if you're on low health. He'll be in danger sure but it'll be better to have healers live, plus he has get a ways.

Elliot

Oh he could cry tears of joy. Finally another healer. He didn't need to be the only one to hear the barks of others as they run low on HP and scrambles to find them. Another healer also means you'll be able to heal each other if neither of you can find a medkit or one of Buildermans machines. He works with you during rounds, as soon as he sees you loose health he's quick to throw you a pizza if he can.

Outside of rounds though he's still kind but finding out you dislike humans due to not being from Earth he decides to back off a bit. He'd rather not make you feel uncomfortable, especially since he may be relying on you for heals. He does not want a bad relationship with you and you not healing him. Not that you would probably but he's just making sure.

If you help out in the kitchen when he cooks food for the other survivors in-between rounds he'll be grateful, you'll be one of the people he trusts the most even if it takes you a bit longer to do the same. He'll never pry when he notices how differently you act depending on what happens, unless it seems to be negatively affecting other people.

Taph

He shows you their traps first, yes quite the introduction to someone but he doesn't want you to be surprised when he uses them or if you see it. He writes on paper and hands it over unsure if you really knew sign but this would be the best way. He explains what his things can do and apologies for the loud sounds his bombs will create. Sure the blast somehow doesn't affect the other survivors, but you have big ears!! You'll hear the explosion better than anyone if you're near (unless your the killer setting it off but it'll still be loud!), he doesn't want to hurt your ears but he can't help the sound of the bombs.

If you're willing he's happy to teach you sign so the two of you can communicate better, probably the quickest to notice how well you adapt how you act depending on the situation and it can help. You were able to calm down Noob once when it was just yourself and him at low HP when in the previous round you were actively looking for Elliot so he could heal you. He does recommend to let down any walls you have with them when you're ready. You're not alone, you're in this together.

Builderman

I feel like he knows who you are already, or at the very least knows you're not from Robloxia. Likely because of well...of his position, similar to Taph he tells you how his abilities work alongside others. He doesn't want you to go head in and be confused by everything you're doing and what others are doing. He even gives you tips on how to survive. Pick up bloxy colas, medkits. The killers have a theme when they're near so keep an ear out but he figured you'll probably won't have a problem with that being a rabbit hyrbid.

He's so thankful when you stun a killer as he's putting up another machine, he can't stop himself once he starts building leaving him vulnerable to attacks so having you save him and multiple occasions makes him smile. He doesn't care for how quickly you adapt how you act depending, not that he isn't aware or things like that but he isn't going to question it. That's how you are after all.

Shedlesky

He's happy to have another one honestly, not in the sense that he enjoys the games he's playing (plus one of the killers has a personal vendetta against him so...) but god has he been deprived of all other human interaction...well okay you said you weren't a human (which he did know, similar reason to Builderman) and you were a moon rabbit of sorts but honestly? You're able to have a conversation with him right? It's a new face he's content with that.

Has once tried to get you, Guest 1337 and Two Time to all well...bully the killer with constant stuns, it worked the first few times (Mainly as the each round had a different killer) but they eventually caught on. It was fun while it lasted. If you apologise for seeming like you dislike them he'll understand, he found out you weren't even from their planet so it makes sense to him, he figured it would be hard to fully adapt to them anyways AND their situation.

Dusekkar

He calls out how you act towards them and how quickly you adapt in situations as soon as he can. Okay he doesn't call it out but he's quick to realise and question it in private. Not that it was a bad thing, many people change how they act depending on their friends and what's happening, plus you weren't from here. He understands but he still wants a small conversation about it. He doesn't stop you if you continue acting that way but subtly recommend that they mean no harm and outside of rounds you can act like yourself. No one will judge, and if someone does? Well he'll scold them don't worry.

Just like Builderman and Shedlesky he knew rather quickly you weren't from Robloxia but he doesn't care, though it does make him think about how willing the Spectre is to take people not even from their planets. Could they take others from different universes too? What fun do they got out of this. He doesn't let the thoughts fester too much, focusing on making sure you're settling in well.

I hope this was okay </3 Thank you again for the request!!

[ficsloverblog]

Feel free to ignore!

Maybe some Miss Perigrine smut? You are also part of the loop and every time you go to the butchers the man at the counter always makes the same comment about you, it's never been big for you since you've become used to finding creative and humiliating ways of turning him down. But when alma finds out about it? And that you've never told her? Howahapwbdudb sweet Jesus help him (and you)

Matter of Decorum (nsfw)

Alma Peregrine x Fem!reader

It begins, as most days do, with routine.

The children are fed and released into the garden like birds let loose from a wire cage, their laughter spiraling into the air with the weightlessness of repetition. You, faithful assistant to the clockwork of this loop, lace up your shoes, tuck your list into your coat, and step into the foggy lanes of Cairnholm. At 9:34 a.m., the shop bell will ring. At 9:36, the butcher will make the same comment he always does.

You’ve long since stopped reacting.

The butcher, a leathery-faced man with a voice like wet gravel, wipes his hands on his apron as you enter. His eyes drop—always—to your chest, or hips, or neck, as if trying to decide which bit of you is up for discussion that morning.

“Well,” he says, with a curl of something like familiarity. “Back again, darling. Shame she never lets you out for long. Pretty thing like you, I'd keep in my window.”

You reach for the paper-wrapped parcel. “If I wanted something soft and unpleasant, I’d speak to the giblets.”

He barks a laugh, red-cheeked and unbothered. “Got a tongue on you, eh?”

“Sharper than your knives, but not as rusty.”

He grins. It’s vile. But you’ve learned not to flinch. Humiliation, when wielded properly, is a cleaner knife than outrage. Besides, you’ve never thought to bring it up to Alma.

You’re not lovers. Not exactly. But there’s… something. A look that lingers too long. A hand at your lower back when danger looms. The way she says your name: clipped, careful, like a secret on her tongue. You tell yourself that silence preserves it, whatever it is.

She’s waiting by the door when you return.

“You’re late,” she says, though you’re not.

You lift the parcel of meat. “He was slower than usual.”

Her eyes narrow.

“He?” she echoes.

You falter, just for a moment. “The butcher.”

Alma Peregrine is not a woman who misses small things. She is all sharp corners and folded wings, etiquette pinned to her spine like a corset.

She says nothing else that day.

The next morning, she comes with you.

“I thought we might walk together,” she says lightly, gloved hands clasped. “The air is fine today. Almost spring.”

You are too surprised to protest. She never leaves the house for errands.

The butcher looks up as the bell jingles. He doesn’t see her behind you at first.

“Well, well—if it isn’t the prettiest—”

His words die.

Alma steps out from behind you like a guillotine blade descending.

She doesn’t speak. Not at first. She walks to the counter, unhurried. Her presence is not large, but it is final.

The butcher, pale now, glances between you. “Miss Peregrine, I—”

“You’ve been speaking to my companion with vulgar familiarity,” she says.

Her voice is soft. It’s worse than yelling.

He stammers something about misunderstanding. About harmless compliments. About not meaning anything by it.

Her head tilts.

“You objectify her like meat,” she murmurs. “So let us speak plainly, butcher.”

The title is a curse in her mouth.

She steps close. “If you ever address her in that tone again, you will find yourself wishing for the mercy of teeth. Do I make myself clear?”

The butcher nods, bloodless.

“Good.” She turns, takes the parcel you didn’t know she’d ordered, and walks out.

You follow her in stunned silence.

The door closes behind you both at the manor. You’re halfway into removing your coat when she speaks again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blink. “It wasn’t important.”

Her voice rises—not in volume, but sharpness.

“Not important that you were being harassed? That a man was putting his hands on your peace of mind, day after day?

“He never touched me.”

Her jaw clenches. “That’s not the point.”

You step back, unsettled. Not by her anger—no, you’re used to her fury when children are threatened. But this is different. This is personal.

“I didn’t want to make a fuss,” you say. “I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle it.”

Her gaze pins you in place. “Do you think I’m disappointed in you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “You don’t tell me what you think.”

The silence that follows is unbearable.

Then, softly: “And you never tell me when you need protecting.”

You bite the inside of your cheeks. “I didn’t think I was allowed to need anything from you.”

That does it.

Something breaks in her—quietly, gracefully, like a wineglass cracking under pressure. She moves toward you with restrained fury, every step measured like a countdown.

“I protect everyone here,” she says. “I protect children from monsters and time from itself. But you—”

Her fingers close around your wrist.

“You think you’re the exception.”

You say nothing. You’re not sure you could.

Her voice lowers. “Do you know how many mornings I’ve watched you leave for that shop, wondering if he’d dare to speak to you again? Wondering if you’d come back with your mouth tight and your hands clenched?”

Your breath catches.

“You knew?” you whisper.

“I suspected. And I waited for you to tell me. But you didn’t.”

Her hand trails from your wrist up your arm, slow and steady.

“Why didn’t you?” she asks again, quieter now.

You whisper, “Because I didn’t want you to stop seeing me as capable.”

There it is—laid bare. And Alma, to her credit, does not flinch.

She lifts your chin.

“I have never mistaken vulnerability for weakness. But I have mistaken your silence for disinterest.”

You blink. “Disinterest?”

“In me.”

The air changes.

She steps closer—so close you feel the warmth of her breath on your lips. Her gloved fingers slide beneath your collar.

“If I had known what he was saying to you…” Her voice trails off. “I would’ve broken the loop for the pleasure of ruining him.”

You tremble.

“Alma—”

“Don’t speak.”

Her lips claim yours.

There’s nothing polite about it. It is not a kiss of etiquette or curiosity—it is the culmination of months, years, of tension so tightly coiled it had nowhere else to go.

She pushes you back against the wall with a soft thud, her body flush against yours. You moan into her mouth and she swallows it greedily.

When she breaks away, her hands are already at the buttons of your blouse.

“You’ve been so careful,” she murmurs. “So dignified. I’ve watched you bite your tongue every time one of them stared too long.”

The blouse falls open.

“But I’m not one of them.”

Your bra follows. Her gloves are gone now, hands rougher than you imagined, precise in the way she touches you. No hesitation, no uncertainty.

You gasp as her mouth closes around your breast, her tongue circling before her teeth graze.

“Mine,” she whispers against your skin. “Do you understand?”

You nod, dizzy.

She drags you to the study, faster than you expect for someone so composed. You stumble backward until the backs of your knees hit the settee.

“Sit.”

You do.

She kneels.

“Alma—”

Her hand presses to your abdomen. “Did I not say silence?”

You fall quiet, breath shaking.

She unfastens your trousers, pulls them down, and leans in. The first touch of her tongue is electric. You cry out, hips jolting, but she holds you in place.

“I want,” she says between strokes, “to replace every filthy word he said to you… with the way I make you fall apart.”

You don’t last long. How could you?

She licks you slowly, thoroughly, like she has all the time in the world to erase what he said and rewrite it with every flick of her tongue. When you come, it’s with your hand tangled in her hair and her name ripped from your throat like a confession.

After, she stands. Adjusts her collar. Looks every bit the schoolmistress again.

You’re shaking. She notices. Wraps you in your coat and presses a kiss to your temple.

“I’m sorry I let it go on so long.”

You reach for her hand.

“I’m not,” you whisper. “It brought you here.”

Her mouth twitches into a smile.

“Tomorrow,” she says, voice cool again, “you’ll stay home. I’ll handle the butcher.”

You smirk. “That poor bastard.”

She leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“He should consider himself lucky I didn’t feed him to the hollow.”

[juceys]

proud of you jey uso

— based on this request; where a disagreement on your new storyline brings more tension than it does happiness.

pairing jey uso x wrestler!fem!reader wc 2.8k+ genre angst fluff warnings explicit language not proofread… like usual note shoutout to my bby @bratzzzdoll ! hope i made ur request come true queen

listened to nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by cas, blessed by daniel caesar, back to you by selena gomez

you’re jumping, no, skipping up the driveway. you’re so excited, probably the most excited you’ve been in a long time.

you just left the meeting with the producers, feeling as electric as you used to back in your nxt days — you felt wanted. seen. like they’re finally acknowledging that you deserve more, rather than being the reliable midcarder that everyone loves and gets along with.

this time, the plan they had for you was big. it wasn’t another solid match or something where the fans knew you could be doing something better.

this time it was a real storyline. one with depth. one that could really help you climb up the ladder. it has camera time. layers. emotions. crowd heat.

this could be what skyrockets you to the upper tier! and you couldn’t wait to tell your boyfriend, who you were sure would support you.

you enter jeys house, still skipping with the letter that contains the storyline information in hand. you make your way to jeys room, where he sits at the edge of the bed, hair still dripping. he probably just got out the shower, you thought.

he looks up and sees your happy-go-lucky self skipping towards him, making him chuckle. “what’s got my baby in a happy mood, hm? guessing the meeting with the producers was good?”

you plopped onto the bed right next to him, grinning from ear. “they’re giving me a storyline! a real one!”

his happy face turns into one with shock. “fo’real? it’s ‘bout time, that’s great, mama! ‘m happy for you.”

“thank you baby,” you say, giving him a peck on the cheek. “they’re gonna pair me up with carmelo.”

jeys face drops.

he doesn’t say anything at first, causing you to look at him. his grin was replaced with a thin line at his mouth. his brows were now furrowed, nose slightly scrunched.

“… melo?” he says, unamused.

“uh… yeah?” you say, confused at his sudden mood change. but still, you continue anyways. “it’s gonna be a romance story, y’know, kinda like indi and dexter or dom and liv right now. they said it’ll be a backstage, slow burn typa thing.”

his jaw tightens. “so yall gon’ be fake dating? on camera and in the ring?”

if you didn’t clock his mood change before, you’re definitely feeling it now. “i mean… yeah baby, but it’s just for show. you know this,” you say, shier than how you originally walked into the room.

he stares at you for a minute. his arms are crossed as he leans back, like he’s trying to stay calm and keep cool. spoiler, it’s not working.

“tell ‘em no.”

you blink. “what? what do you mean?”

“i mean, tell ‘em no. you’re not doing no romance story — especially not with melo. they can come up with a different story.”

you think he’s joking, until you meet his eyes. they’re boring into yours — there’s no sign of playfulness or humor on his face. he looks the most serious you think you’ve ever seen him.

“josh… why would i give up this story? this is huge, and it could be huge! this could be what really pushes me up there! baby, this is the first big opportunity i’ve gotten in years,” you try to defend yourself.

yet, he still looks indifferent. stubborn, almost.

“yeah well, you don’t need to be fake dating nobody, especially not melo? like are we fo’real right now?”

that’s when it clicks in your head.

“you’ve seen me lose match after match,” you say, quieter and now looking at your lap. “go weeks without screen time, never being pushed to my full potential. and you’ve always told me that my story and my time would come.”

you look up at him, voice more stern now. “and now you’re telling me to drop the biggest opportunity i’ve ever had, all because it’s a romance story? because i’ll be fake dating someone you’re getting insecure over? are you so fucking serious joshua?”

for a second, you swore you thought he’d felt guilty. maybe he did, but he certainly didn’t show it.

“i just don’t want someone else touchin’ up on you, thas’all,” he says while getting up, pacing back and forth.

you scoff and look at him in disbelief. “so let me get this straight. i don’t get to have this little romantic storyline, which could be the big break in my career, but you get to run around on raw every monday in your little crop tops and flicking your tongue around on camera, showing out like you’re a real eater? you can do all this flirty shit with the other women but i can’t do one fucking storyline? i’m just supposed to sit here on the sidelines, watching and cheering you on while i lose every friday for the rest of my career?”

his face softens. “that’s not what i mean-“

“no, that’s exactly what you mean. you know, i thought you’d be happy for me. proud. excited for me. if you are happy for me, then this is a funny ass way of showing it.”

he runs his hand over his face, frustrated. “look, this isn’t about work, okay? this is about us. they got you doing some story with some guy closer in age with you and-“

you stand up in disbelief. “so that’s what this is about?” you scoff. “what, you think simply because carmelos near my age that i’ll fall for him and leave you? are you serious? now you’re insecure about our age gap?”

he stays silent, avoiding eye contact now.

“no. no, it’s not that you think i’ll cheat on you. it’s that you think i’ll like that he’s younger than you. that maybe i’ll realize it’s less complicated with him since he’s younger, isn’t it?”

your words hang in the air, as well as tension between you two. the tension is so strong, it’d twang if you plucked it, you think.

“i didn’t say that.”

“no, but you didn’t have to. it’s written all over your face.”

he swallows hard, his hand moving to sit on his forehead right above his eyes.

“… i just don’t wanna lose you, especially not over this,” he says, quiet. raw. almost like he’s ashamed to admit it.

you sigh. “y’know, i thought you’d always be the one person i can count on. the one who’ll always fight for me. turns out — you’re just fighting me.”

you turn and grab the envelope, making your way to the door. you turn your head over your shoulder, “i’m not telling them no.” and just like that, you were gone.

and for the first time since meeting you, jey didn’t chase after you.

-

his house, his room, is too quiet after you leave.

jey stands there, his hands still on his hips. your words ring in his head like an alarm he can’t turn off.

you’re just fighting me.

his chest is heaving the same way it does after a match. but the fight wasn’t in the ring — it was standing in front of him, in a light gray tank top with eyes full of fire and disappointment.

his head is screaming at him. he hates this feeling. he hates himself, for letting his insecurities get the best of him. he lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

how am i gonna fix this shit, he thinks.

meanwhile, you’re at your place, ranting to poor trinity over the phone.

“girl, he said what?!” oh. and jon, of course. his nosy ass.

“yeah, he said all that! i was so shocked! honestly, as of right now, i don’t even know where we stand as a couple in general.”

you and jey have been together for a good year and a half now. it wasn’t exactly a secret, but it wasn’t public either. only those who really know, know. honestly, you would’ve never guessed that he’d be insecure over your age difference with him. i mean… 8 years isn’t that bad… is it?

“well yall definitely need some time apart. especially josh, i don’t know what’s gotten over him,” trinity says.

“don’t worry sis, i’ll talk to his stupid ass about it,” you hear jon say from a bit of a distance.

you sigh. “thanks guys, i appreciate yall. ima let yall go now though, i think i just need to sleep on this.”

“okay girl, call me if you need anything. love you,” trin says, jon also letting out a quick “love you”.

“mhm, love you guys too, bye,” you say before hanging up.

you sit at your kitchen counter. confused, disappointed, angry. then you look at your phone, two notifications grabbing your attention.

new texts from: diva jon

i talked to him, told him to give you space for a bit that boy is so stupid smfh talk to him whenever you’re ready to, love you sis 🤞🏽

you chuckle at his text, sending a quick reply to him before checking your other one.

your chest tightens.

new texts from: josh <3

i’m sorry mama i’m so proud of you, more than you know you deserve this baby i’m cheering you on from a distance call me whenever you’re ready. i love you.

you don’t reply, leaving him on read. you can’t reply, not yet. you need to prove to yourself that you’re capable of doing this storyline, prove to the world that you deserve a storyline like this.

that night, you fall asleep cuddling his hoodie that you put on top of your stuffed animal.

-

it’s been two weeks since your last conversation with josh. but it’s also been two weeks of your popularity skyrocketing. you’ve been getting more and more traction after starting the romance storyline with carmelo. you couldn’t be happier.

but you also can’t ignore the heavy feeling on your heart — the growing void, the ache of something missing. the ache that josh is missing. the man you’ve always supported, isn’t here to do the same for you. physically, at least.

“you know he watches all your segments,” trinity told you the other day, while you were staring at your phone. you were reading back texts he had sent you.

saw you earlier, didn’t know if you wanted to talk just wanted to let you know tho, you looked good you always do

just watched your promo you were amazing baby, i’m so proud! i miss you. sleep well mama, i love you

since going no contact on jey, he’s texted you once everyday. nothing too long, nothing too short. just simple compliments or a quick “good morning, i love you”. his texts are always gentle. intimate, in a way. he still respects your wish for space, yet he won’t ever forget to text and remind you how much he loves you.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him. bad.

-

a couple days go by and you still haven’t replied to jeys texts, or talked to him in general. tonights monday night raw, and of course, you were watching it live along with the millions of other fans worldwide.

raw ended a good 30 minutes ago, and you find yourself staring at a frame of jey. and then you find yourself opening your shared chat together, replaying the voice message he left you earlier today.

hey baby

God. his voice was deep, raspy. you miss hearing it — not on live television, but when it’s just you two.

just landed in pennsylvania saw you was limping a lil bit bet you wish i was there to give you a fōfō, huh

he chuckles to himself, and you do too. you really do wish he was here to give you a fōfō, or massage. you know the ache in your calf would go away with his, so-called, magic hands.

then he sighs.

i miss ya mama, doesn’t feel right going to all these places without you… i love you baby, always. no matter the distance, no matter anything. always us.

and then it ends, and you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. that’s when you decide that enough is enough. you turn off your tv and lamp in your living room and head to your bedroom. you’re already wrapped in his hoodie that still smells like him and you figure that’s what pushed you over the edge.

you hit call.

it only takes one ring before he picks up.

“hello?”

his voice brings immediate comfort. comfort you forgot that existed, comfort you didn’t realize only he can bring you.

it’s low and rough, like he’s trying to disguise how surprised he is that you called.

you lay back on your bed. “hi,” you say, voice quieter than you had planned it to be.

“you okay baby?” he says, concern rushing over him at the sound of your voice.

“mhm, ‘m okay… just, forgot how nervous you make me.”

he lets out a breathy laugh — full of relief, disbelief and love tangled in one. “c’mon mama, ain’t nothin’ to be nervous about.”

you smile to yourself. despite not speaking to him for the past two weeks, jey’s still himself. still the same silly, easy-going and lighthearted boy you fell in love with. and somehow, that made you feel better.

“are you in your hotel room?” you ask.

“yeah, why?”

“just wanted to make sure you’re not busy and that i’m not bothering or something.”

“i could be in the middle of a match and i’d still drop everything for you” he laughs out. “you can never bother me baby, what’s on your mind ma?”

you sigh, all of a sudden feeling nervous. “was just thinking about you… me… us… y’know?”

“mhm. me too, everyday mama,” he says. “how’ve you been baby?”

“good — really good actually. all this traction from the media and stuff are really boosting me up there. last week on smackdown, oh my gosh, it felt so good. the crowd was so insane j, it doesn’t feel real,” you say, ignoring the twinge of guilt you feel. ignoring the sadness you feel because he isn’t there to share the feeling with you. “just wish you were here,” you whisper.

on the other side of the call, in a dimly lit hotel room, jey freezes.

“yeah? me too baby. but i been keeping up with ya, i’ve seen the crowds mama, they love you,” he says with a smile on his face.

he hears you shuffle, “yeah i know… and i’m grateful, really. but it doesn’t really matter if the one person i wanna hear cheering me on, isn’t there.”

jey feels his heart break.

he sits up straight in the hotel bed. “baby…” he starts. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry i wasn’t being supportive at first and for being selfish. i wasn’t being the best boyfriend, and i know that. y’ain’t deserve my insecure ass that day, and i’ve regretted actin’ like that ever since. but you do deserve all this — all the love you’re getting and the attention. you’re doin’ all the shit you said you would. ‘m happy for you baby, so happy. i was jus’ scared of losing you. scared of… ion know, everything i guess.”

“i needed you to be proud of me… not scared of me josh,” he hears your voice being strained. and that kills him.

“i am proud of you mama. ‘m so proud, more than you’ll ever know. always have been and always will be. ‘m not scared anymore baby, just needed time to figure that part out,” he reassures you.

now you’re holding the stuffy with his hoodie on it tight to your body, wishing it were really him rather than your poor squishmallow.

you told yourself you wouldn’t give in to him until you’ve proved yourself — to yourself, to him, to the world — that you have what it takes to be in the big leagues. and you know what? you have proved yourself. so, you let yourself cave.

“i miss you… come home.”

unbeknownst to you, he’s grinning and kicking his feet in the air at that. but he maintains his tone, “i’ll book a new flight right now mama, i’ll be there soon.”

you close your eyes, holding onto your stuffy even tighter. “soon,” you whisper into the quiet room, more to yourself though. because soon, you won’t have to hold onto a scent or a memory anymore. you won’t have to wake up wishing he was next to you. soon, he’ll be right there. right there when you wake up and go to bed. when you come home or leave.

and that was enough for you — for now.

note pt.2 it’s currently 9pm and i’ve just realized this is the earliest i’ve posted… someone tell me to stop posting so late </3

[rueclfer]

new follower but HAVE to send in stuff for the job fair!!! are you kidding me?!?? that’s so cute!

i’m thinking budtender! reader x customer! sero?? but i know you have one sero request lined up so i did think about alternately

athletic trainer! reader x hockey player! bakugo?

looking forward to the others in the series regardless of these ideas! much love <3 🐸

helloooo new friend <3 HEHEHEH ive never done a budtender y/n before im actually so tickled at thisssss hehehe thank you for the submission hehe (dont make me think abt hockey bakugou rn i will go Crazy. but that is for another time)

customer!sero // job fair

event m.list

sero looked behind his shoulder and gave denki one last mouthed "fuck you" before sliding his ID through the glass panel of the dispensary.

this was the second time that denki had “coincidentally” forgotten his ID and wallet at home, leaving sero no choice but to pay for the day's plans himself.

sero walks in and strolls around the displays. usually he's in and out, but he doesn't mind making denki wait this time around to make his usual conversation with the security guard out front.

he makes mental notes of the ridiculous names of strains to tell him about later. he recognizes a few, but silently chuckles at the rest until he turns the corner and bumps into you.

"sorry!" you blurt, catching his shoulder to stabilize yourself before you could drop the box of inventory in your arms, "my fault, i'm so sorry!"

he blinks once. then twice. and then down to the lanyard around your neck.

"sheesh, you high on the job, y/n?" he smirks.

“oh please, just a clutz,” you scoff, your cheeks suddenly prickling with heat, "if i was high right now, our sales would be up by 75% right now. i’d be running this store like the military."

"oh god, a productive high?" he dramatically gasps, "what does it feel like to be god's favorite?"

"anyone can be a productive high," you begin moving around the shelves, stocking as sero follows behinds, "just gotta smoke the right shit."

suddenly he's grateful denki left his ID at home.

he's seen you around before, but never brave enough to approach- always in and out and has no strength to flex his minimal weed knowledge to the pretty bud-tender.

"got any recommendations then?" he leans up against the shelf you're working on, watching you crouch down with a box full of pre-rolls laid between your legs.

“hmm,” you hum, “well, what are your plans for the day?” your gaze flickers up to his for a moment.

sero’s brain freezes for a moment. he hadn’t thought this far ahead in the conversation- forgetting that you were actually doing your job, and not entertaining his poor attempts at flirting.

“uhh..” he begins, “you know, just hanging out, cleaning a bit, saving a cat from a tree, and writing a book?”

he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck as he internally curses himself out, avoiding your eyes as you slowly turn your head up at him with an amused smile.

“wow,” you laugh, “productive wednesday.”

“yeah, you know,” he shrugs, “might even run a marathon if i got the time for it. a marathon for charity, by the way.”

you motion for him to come over to the other side of the shelf as your eyes glaze over the display.

“uh-huh. a do-gooder like you mainly goes for pre-rolls, right?”

sero nods his head, “how’d you know?”

“i’m also really observant when i’m high,” you joke, sending him a side glance, “kidding. legally, i’m kidding. you and that blonde friend always come in here when i’m working, so i notice.”

“damn, you notice me?” slips out of his mouth.

sero doesn’t have to be inebriated to embarrass himself as much as he has today. when it’s  with you, it seems to come second nature to him.

“getting excited?” you tease.

you watch him stammer a bit and try to backtrack as you collect a few rolls in your hand, the corners of your mouth growing into a smug smirk. you pull out a sharpie from your utility belt and scribble your number on the packaging.

“these are the ones you want if you wanna have a productive day,” you place them in his hand, “but you need something to help wind down, you know where to reach me.”

[iveneverbeenhere]

💻Temporary Secretary💻

Summary: You’re the owner of a decently-sized law firm and your current secretary has gone on vacation. So, you hire Yeosang as your newest secretary.

Genre: Non-idol au, Yeosang x black! Fem! Reader, college au

Warning: Yeosang and reader are both on toxic nonsense lowkey, Yeosang is lowkey giving Yandere, power imbalance as she still is his boss, HORNY‼️‼️, dom/sub dynamics, lowkey inappropriate work place behavior from both of them, they wilding.

A/N: This is like an extended universe to my toxic! Sugar baby Hongjoong fics. As my mutual said about Yeosang in this fic, “He’s unhinged.”

You’re the owner of a large law firm, and your recent secretary has taken leave; so, you call up a friend to help you find a replacement.

“It’s just for a bit. A couple of months at most.” You explained casually on the phone.

“Alright, anything he needs to be?” She replied, a bit absentmindedly. For a woman who runs as successfully sordid a business as she does, she loves to act like a fool.

You ponder the question for a moment, rummaging in your suit pocket for your keys. Why are they being difficult?

“Strong and sweet.”

You hear her chuckle, bemused but entertained by your brazenness.

“I meant qualifications, girl. Like work experience.” She breathes out.

You breathe a hard sigh, rolling your eyes with your phone pressed to your ear. Finally, you’ve got the keys out, but the door is being uncooperative.

“I don’t know.” You struggle to unlock the door of your firm with an espresso in hand. The keys jiggle like a goddamn Christmas carol as you try unsuccessfully to get behind the locked door of your firm. Was it always this hard? You groan exasperated, “Jesus fucking–Can type. Talk. The usual.”

She giggles, clearly tickled at your frustration, like she isn’t the culprit of it.

“That’s not any real work experience, now is it?” You squall in frustration; on top of this door not opening, she’s being purposefully obtuse. You hold the phone roughly to your ear as if your bruising hold would transfer to her neck by cellular wavelengths. You growl,

“Girl, I don’t give a fuck. He could be a belly dancer, diplomat—hell, he can be a fucking neurosurgeon for all I care! As long as he can work 7-5 and doesn’t get on my nerves, I’ll take em’.”

She busts out laughing on the line as she hears your bothered tone.

“Alright, I gotchu, I’ll try and find him by—”

A screech of “Momma, who are you talking to?” interrupts her. It’s Hongjoong.

You roll your eyes playfully, but tired, as you hear her answer with a placating “It’s just a friend, Baby!” It’s your cue to leave.

“Well, I’m going to work. Tell Hongjoong I said hi.”

She nods, clearly in a rush to get back to him. They're both so obsessed it makes you sick.

“Yeah-Yeah, I’ll tell him, and I’ll find a secretary for you. Bye!” She stumbles out as she hangs up hurriedly. You sigh, putting your phone down. She better find you one; for her sake as well as hers.

A few weeks pass, and she sends you occasional applications. The boys are nice, but if you’re being shallow, they aren’t your type.

That is, until she sends you the application of a friend of Hongjoong’s.

His name is Kang Yeosang. A statuesque, lean-fitted boy who, according to Hongjoong, was “Good at school and working out, but not much else.”

You called her immediately.

“Girl.” you excitedly breathed out. He was gorgeous.

“I know, right? I do good fucking work.” She beams as she hears your enchanted voice on the phone; once you saw him, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. He had bewitched you without ever saying a word to you. You loved it.

You called him in for an interview. His voice was honey-esque, smooth and deep, begging you to fall in with its natural sweetness. Alas, his manner didn't match his cadence. Each word he spoke was stuttered, scrambled into a convoluted mixture of naive excitement and awkward nervousness. He was like a lost puppy; that excited you to no end.

He was always gonna pass the interview, no matter what. You had picked him, and there was no way he was getting out of it. He stuttered, paused awkwardly, and looked around at basically nothing the entire time. It was funny. This boy in a sharp black suit and pulled-back hair; the one you had been told was “practically a genius” seemed like a bimbo in your presence. How could you not hire him?

So, he began working with you. He was perfect; arriving at the office by 6:50 with your espresso in hand and greeting you with a husky “Good morning” that slid down to the pit of your stomach. It was like he had been working for you for years.

He got along well with everyone in the office. He was politely distant. A hello from about 6 feet away; lispy, “I can help with that.” That never turned into anything more than communal support. A small “No, thank you” whenever invited to social events. It was a far cry from his treatment of you.

Staying late when you stayed late; asking you general questions about the firm that morphed into "Do you like this suit?", "How should I dress?", "What dishes are your favorite?" They're hardly appropriate questions to ask your boss. Offering to do more work than necessary to stay longer. He seemed…eager to please. You didn’t mind; in fact, you liked it.

A soft, but firm knock comes at your office door as you read up on the newest case.

“Come in!” You yelled aggressively, unaware of your tone. You needed to find a way to make this work in your favor. Homicide can easily be covered up, right? Slowly, but surely, Yeosang gently strolls into your office carrying a small file of documents. He places them on your desk with the utmost care, looking at how your brows furrow and your mouth twists into a pseudo-frown from your concentration. You look like a vengeful goddess to him. He stares a beat too long, catching your attention. His eyes are darkly obedient compared to the meek, “Here you go.” that slips out his lips.

You look down at the documents, moaning out a relieved, “Yeosang, I could kiss you!” That stops him. His hands begin to clench and unclench on the end of his slim-fitted blazer. He looks at you like a starving dog, waiting for the scrap of food you graciously promised him. He feels himself run warm as he looks at you with an uncomfortable need. You stare at him devilishly with a goading smirk as you realize his plight. You decide to push it further with a drawn-out, “Good boy.”

He gulps as if swallowing a pack of sewing needles; slow and painful with the ghost of blood turning into a collective haunting in his throat. It's a phantom pain, one only caused by desires left unfulfilled. His mouth heaves out a pathetic, “Thank you.”

You look away from him, skimming through the documents with a satisfied hum as he stands there stiff like a doll you forgot to wind up. You look back at him with a pointed eyebrow raised. He's pathetic with his hummingbird heartbeat and dry mouth; you stare for a couple of beats, relishing in his piteous squirming. Eventually, you excuse him with a lighthearted scoff of “You’re excused, secretary Kang.” He swears you’re playing mind games with him as he walks out with trembling legs.

Yeosang is aware to a certain extent that he isn’t well; not as well as everyone else is. He’s always been a little lost; always in need of firm guidance and always a little too eager to please. He and everyone else in his life chalked it up to him being a pushover. Nothing too serious.

However, with you, it's like he can’t do anything. He doesn’t want to do anything without your guidance or validation.

He lives for your continuous praise; the light, almost condescending way you guide him. He’s like a dog on a leash being pushed and pulled by your loving hand. In his darkest moments, at company dinners when he’s too drunk–he imagines crawling on the floor, tan-colored file in his teeth as he makes it to your office.

Yeosang feels warm; the type of warmth felt when you've drunk too much and all your inhibitions have gone. You fed him drink after drink at the company dinner causing him to stumble his way into the office after hours. He innocently told you he had left his car keys at the front desk, being diplomatic, you lent him the firm's keys. He wobbles to his desk, opening drawers sloppily as he grabs a file. He knows he shouldn't, but he places the beige folder in his teeth; biting softly enough to keep it still, but not enough to leave a mark. He bends down to the floor getting on his hands and knees like a dog. He always fancied himself like a Doberman in his stocky build and pitch-black suit. He wonders if you like big dogs. He crawls tentatively, the thick carpet tickling under his flat palms. The knotted fiber scraps against his pants leaving a dull burn underneath the skin of his knees. He doesn't notice; too busy gritting his teeth, trying in vain to keep his disgusting spit from seeping into the documents. He keeps his piercing gaze on the locked door to your office, envisioning you behind it. His phone rings suddenly making him halt his movements to slurry answer,

"Hello?"

"Hey, Yeosang. You found your keys?" You politely inquire; he realizes he's been gone too long.

He rummages for them in his pants pocket, pulling them out to make them clack and jiggle together as he replies,

"Yes. I just found them."

"Good! Make sure to lock up and come straight back. I need those keys." You reiterated with a slight slur.

"Yes, Ma'am."

He looks at your sharp-toed red bottoms and envisions you placing them under his chin as you give him instructions. There’s not a day that he leaves work without a desperate need in his stomach and a hard-on.

He’s a deplorable pervert. He swore once that he saw the outline of your underwear in your pencil skirt and spent his break in the company bathroom, painting his hand white.

He finds it hard to breathe when you're in the room. The attention and the affection that you lavish on him; all make a dull ache within him. It makes him almost forget that he’s temporary.

So, it catches him off guard when your original secretary comes back.

Yeosang works steadily at his desk; making the agenda for the day while answering emails with swift politeness. That is until a man walks in. He's tall and lean with an air of annoying comfortability. A sweet small grin rests on his fair face as he looks around; not lost, but searching. Yeosang speaks up firmly.

“Hello. Can I help you?

The man saunters over with ease, analyzing Yeosang in a way that makes his jaw clench. He's so fucking smug. He speaks candidly, “Oh, you must be the new temp. I’m Soobin. Choi Soobin. ”

Yeosang responds pointedly, “Are you looking for someone, Mr. Choi?”

Soobin smiles condescendingly carefree as if to say “How cute.” with a click of “I’m here to see the owner.”

Yeosang stills, a bit silent. He doesn’t like Soobin and his aggressively cute way. His disgusting friendliness sits in the waiting room like black tar. He exasperatedly sighs out,

“She’s in a meeting at the moment. She won’t be taking any visitors until–”

“Oh my god! Is that Soobin?” You exclaim as you rush out of your office to hug the gangly giant in the waiting room. Yeosang has never seen you so much as briskly walk to anything; the sight of your excitement at this stranger makes his eye twitch faintly.

Loving exchanges of ‘Hi, how are you?’ ‘How was your break? And your mother?’ Turn his lip into a thin, hard line. You both giggle and poke fun at one another; meanwhile, Yeosang has never seen you do more than a smug scoff when someone trips or messes up their paperwork. He's never seen you with anything more than a vicious smirk or stone-resting face. The sight makes his blood boil. He cuts the lovely reunion with a sharp, “Excuse me, but who is this?”

You look over at him, a wide grin still on your face as you inform him casually; As if you can't see his clear discomfort.

“This is Soobin! He’s my original secretary."

He glares hard at Soobin as he interjects with a conceited, "I just got back from vacation."

He looks at you far too lightly for Yeosang's liking; giving you a toothy smile that displays his deep dimples. He hates even more how you coo and gush over him like an adorable child.

"And we're so glad to have you back!"

Soobin concurred with a borderline lovesick, "Glad to be back."

You chuckle gently as Soobin rubs the salt in the blistering wound that Yeosang's developed by declaring, "I should be able to come back by Monday."

You nod blissfully, chatting merrily at him; although, Yeosang doesn't catch sight of that. All he can recognize is the sly, malicious grin of satisfaction Soobin gives him; Yeosang grits his teeth. He won’t be replaced that easily.

Credit to @hayatoseyepatch for dividers!

[mephist00o]

dude can you imagine caleb’s borderline yandere behavior paired with someone who has a “No Bullshit” attitude towards everyone?

like he starts his little, “im going to keep you with me for your own protection” only to be interrupted by his partner with, “who the fuck are you talking to like that????” to be people outside of the relationship it seems toxic, but his crazy ass needs to be with someone STRICT.

FIREE IDEAA :D

desc: headcannons of caleb with a mc who puts his ass in his PLACE 🫠

a/n: reader and Caleb are just RLLY funny 😋, also trying a new head cannon format !!

As we know, Caleb is not one to shy away from being assertive when it comes to mc's saftey (I think we've ALL seen those edits on our fyps). But anyway, I can see a reader with a "no bulshit attitude" lowkey scaring him a bit? (and maybeee perhaps turn him on too?😜).

Imagine you and Caleb are out at a resturant with a bar. You go on your own and get yourself a drink when some guy starts hitting on you. He does every trick in the book: rubbing your arm, giving you half-assed compliments, the usual.

Of course, Caleb's wasting no time walking over to where you two are.

He makes his way over and starts off real nice. He's calm and collected and acting like he was just passing through. Then, when Caleb asks the guy if he knows you are not his hand makes its way around your waist, and he starts sizing the guy up.

He's on his little rant when you cut him off.

"Sorry, shes-"

"Not interested. And," you rip his hand off your waist, glaring at him, "not to be coddled."

The guy looks like he's about to shit himself. He makes a run for it.

Meanwhile you and Caleb start having it out publicly. He ends up grabbing your wrist harshly and dragging you both back home.

The innocent bystanders look at you two with pity. How could two people seemingly be so hurtful to one another?

Little did they know as soon as you both exited the building Caleb's immediately on his knees begging for YOUR forgiveness.

Caleb's had jelously issues since you two we're little. You never blamed him, especially after everything you two went through. But it still caused you way too much stress.

You have always been headstrong, and known what you wanted. This has increased as you've gotten older as well. But Caleb can't seem to shake off the fact that you're not the scared innocent child you used to be.

This leads to what happened back at the resturant. And it leads to people questioning the true quality of your relationship.

But quite honestly, you guys couldn't be better. Plus, instances like that restaurant barely scratch the surface of other stuff that's happened.

One time, you and Caleb were out on a stroll and some guy just happened to compliment the dress you were wearing. You paid it no mind but as soon as you and Caleb got home, he went fully batshit crazy.

The only reason you found out was because you saw his various web charts and tabs open in his bedroom. Before you can even process it, Caleb's already standing right behind you, his gaze looking over you.

"Pipsqueak, you know I'm just looking out for you,-" Caleb's eyes scan you, almost looking through you rather than at you. "because you're mi-"

"Caleb! Jesus christ, take this down." You roll your eyes at him and give him a look.

Caleb looks like he's been snapped out of whatever daze he was in a second ago and looks at you confused. Still, you continue to pester him.

"You heard me! You know, I'm getting really sick of this yandere act you got going on."

Caleb looks at you like a toddler who just got scolded on by his parents.

This leads to a screaming match, (well, you're the only one really screaming at him) and by the end of it you two are cuddled up on the couch together, Caleb's head resting on your lap, as you two binge watch the newest episodes of love island (I feel like you and Caleb would LOVEEE to make fun of the couples on it together).

I also just see another instance of one of Caleb's stalker moments where he eventually finds the person and threatens them using his gravity evol.

You'd walk up behind him and start telling him off for using his evol to threaten someone.

"But pipsqueak, he was clearly trying to start something with you!"

The only thing that man asked you was directions to the nearest post office. 🤦🏾

But despite it all, you and Caleb's bond never wavered. The dynamic you guys built with one another actually works even if it is a bit unconventional.

...

Lmk if y'all want moree <3

[kellykadesperate]

“You don’t even know me anymore.” 80

“You don’t even know me anymore.”

Aaron’s had another fight with John, this time it’s over the fact that they never seem to see each other anymore. Maybe Aaron’s mad but he thought that John would be all over him now Robert is out and in the village but there’s clearly something on his mind. Whenever Aaron broaches the subject, John just completely shuts him down.

Yesterday, Aaron was tempted to do something stupid. Robert was coming out of the cafe and he wanted to walk right up to him, ask how farming is going, ask him if he’s seeing a therapist, if he was OK. It sounds pretty normal on the surface but Aaron knows better than that, he knows it would lead to drinking a pint together, Robert speaking gently in his ear.

He knows they’d be on each other sooner or later. It’s such a frustrating truth.

It’s why he’s hiding away near the cricket pavilion. It’s far enough out to not have to think about bumping into Robert at all.

Of course it doesn’t end up that way. Robert turns up out of absolutely nowhere. He’s got a book in his hand and an umbrella hanging over his arm. He looks completely peaceful until he spots Aaron.

“Oh.” Robert stops dead and then looks at the cans Aaron has with him. “Are you OK?”

It’s been a while since someone asked Aaron. There’s nothing inherently bad happening in his life but it feels like there is, like there’s something bubbling under the surface ready to explode. He can sense it.

“Peachy.” Aaron opens another can and hopes that Robert will keep moving on.

“I usually read here.” Robert says instead. “It’s quiet.”

Aaron sips his can, stares ahead instead of looking right at Robert the way he wants to. “Vic’s isn’t?” It’s a question, he watches as Robert takes a small step forwards.

“Harry’s got a friend over, they’re loud.” Robert pulls a face and Aaron almost laughs. Robert’s lack of patience when it comes to other people’s kids is something else, always has been. It hasn’t changed then.

“What’s wrong?” Robert asks, again. He comes a little further towards Aaron and then decides to sit near him. There’s space between them. Aaron holds in everything he wants to spill out. “Is it John?”

Aaron can’t look at Robert. “He’s hiding something from me.” He blurts out. “Should be used to that.”

Robert looks hurt, Aaron looks at him for a second and he registers it.

“Right.” Robert says. “Well, go speak to Mack. Or your mum. Or Vic. Don’t sit here drinking alone.”

“I was alone.” Aaron points out. “I want to be alone.” He says, and he doesn’t mean it. Not really. If he’s being completely honest with himself, he wants a hug. He wants to stop feeling like something is wrong.

“No you don’t.” Robert says confidently. Aaron finally looks at him, scowls. “You don’t want to be sitting here feeling rubbish and having no one to talk to about it. You don’t want that.”

“You don’t get to tell me what I want.” Aaron runs a hand over his face. “We’ve been through this, about a million times.” He says.

Robert nods. “Yeah I know, but I know you Aaron –”

“You don’t.” Aaron blurts out. He means it. He really does. “You knew me, all my little ticks, how to get a rise out of me, how to make me lose it. You knew everything but now you don’t.”

Robert’s eyes flicker and he picks up on the emotion behind it immediately. “What does that mean?”

Aaron squirms a little and then opens another can. “Find somewhere else to read.”

“No.” Robert sounds so strong, so determined. “Aaron –”

“You’re sitting here trying to do what? Console me? Get me to open up. “You don’t even know me anymore.” Aaron says and it’s mean, it’s cruel and unkind but it’s meant to be. It has to be.

Robert looks so hurt, it’s written all over his face. His shoulders slump a little and he shakes his head.

“I’ll always know you.” Robert says, and it sounds almost romantic.

Aaron shuts his eyes tight around it like it’ll make him forget what’s just been said.

“Not everything.” Aaron shudders. “There’s stuff you don’t know now, stuff about me you don’t get to know.”

Robert looks scared. It’s what Aaron can pick up on instantly. It fills him with guilt so suddenly he wants to run away.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Aaron snaps. “Forget I said anything.”

Robert scoffs. “That’s likely.” He says, all sarcastically. It gets under Aaron’s skin completely and he realises he needs to go right now. Aaron stands but Robert stands quicker, he holds Aaron’s arm. “Aaron.”

“Let go.” Aaron snaps.

Robert doesn’t. “No. No, because you’re scaring me. Are you OK?” He studies Aaron’s face like he can just tell. “Are you ill or something?”

“Why would –” Aaron pulls out of Robert’s grasp.

“Please don’t make me worry like this if it’s –”

“My mum had cancer.” Aaron says quickly.

Robert frowns. He sighs and Aaron’s certain that it’s relief. Aaron feels sick, tells himself to stop there but the words keep coming out. “Like Faith did, same type. Apparently it’s a thing, I have the gene as well.”

Robert’s face crumbles. It’s the only way Aaron could possibly describe it. He starts breathing all funny and Aaron sees his chin start to wobble.

“No.” Robert whispers. He keeps shaking his head. “No, not – not you.”

“Robert, I’m –”

Robert bolts. Aaron watches as he leaves. He’s walking away, book abandoned on the side of the pavilion. Aaron realises he’s crying when tears start falling down his face, he wipes them away and chases after Robert.

He spots him on the bridge.

Robert’s got his head down and he’s breathing all funny. Aaron comes up behind him, announces himself so he doesn’t startle him and then he puts a hand on Robert’s back. Robert spins and pulls Aaron into this bone crushing hug. He squeezes onto him and Aaron feels his hands tremble as Robert settles them across the back of Aaron’s head.

“I’m – I’m OK.” Aaron says, his voice is thick with emotion and it hits him so quickly that he has no choice but to allow it to happen. His hands hold Robert close even though he should really be pushing him away.

“You could have cancer.” Robert says.

Aaron shrugs a little. “I could pass it on yeah. If I had kids. But I don't …” He gulps hard and thinks of what could have been for a second.

Robert looks like he wants to shake Aaron. “But you could still get it.”

“I –” Aaron sighs. “Yeah.” Robert breathes in like he’s trying not to lose it again. “But I get tested regularly, they’d catch it early. That’s – I’m fine.”

Robert looks over the bridge. The sound of the water making its way over the rocks settles something between them for a second.

“Sorry for hyperventilating.” Robert finally says.

Aaron turns so that he’s looking down at the water too. His shoulders touch Aaron’s. “Sorry for saying it like – like I was throwing it in your face.” He whispers. “But I’m OK.”

“The Aaron I know would have probably kept it to himself, waited until he was forced to tell someone.”

Aaron shifts on his feet a little. “Yeah, pretty accurate.” He says.

Robert looks in pain again. “I should have been there.”

Aaron’s chin wobbles a little. “Yeah. But we don’t get everything we want, do we?”

Robert shakes his head sadly. “No.” He whispers.

Aaron should go home, he should make up with John and leave out the part where he spent the afternoon with Robert talking about intimate parts of his life like they have that sort of relationship anymore.

“I should …”

Robert keeps looking out onto the water. “Please.” He whispers. “Just – stay for a little longer.”

Aaron should turn and leave. He shouldn’t nod, and he shouldn’t do exactly as Robert says but he does. Of course he does. It’s Robert asking.