#how much i can’t stand that they got away with it and how much i want vengeance on them

[mv1simp]

Agora Hills ♥️

Max Verstappen x Midsize!Reader

heavily requested part 2 to cuffing szn! Can also be read as stand alone/on its own too 😌😌

kissing, i hope they caught us, whether they like it or not (i wanna show you off, i wanna tie the knot)

Your sweet boyfriend, Max Verstappen, is a lot bigger than you are, and a lot stronger too. You know firsthand - when he uses it time and time again to prove how your curves are the perfect size for him, both in the bedroom and out of it. Your insecurities don't stand a chance against his protectiveness. This tough season, though, you want take control and look after him, and take all of his tension away. You might have underestimated just how strong Max is though...

content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, dom!max, reader who tries to be a dom but fails lol, overstimulation kink, brief mention of eating disorder, WC 4k

Filing your patient’s notes back in place, you warmly say your goodbyes to the nurses and make your way to the carpark. You loved your work as a doctor in women's health, truly you did - it was even how you’d met your loving boyfriend, Max, when you’d delivered his sister Victoria’s baby. But it had been a very trying week with numerous complex births and anxious new parents. On top of that, your sweet boyfriend, who’d normally take all your stress away in the evenings by breaking you apart with his strong hands and then putting you back together again, had been away for the past month on back to back race weekends.

So you’re very excited because he’s finally flown back into Monaco today, and you can’t wait to get home and see him. Tossing your Hermés bag - a one year anniversary present from Max - into the passenger seat, you slam on the accelerator and speed to his downtown penthouse that you’d recently moved into. Your dainty heels click against the hardwood floor as you walk down the hallway, curiously looking around the living room and pouting when you don’t spot him lounging on the sofa or back on his sim. Frowning, you think he must not have arrived yet - but then you spot the open French doors on the balcony.

Eagerly walking through them, your suspicions are confirmed when you see your boyfriend comfortable dressed in a hoodie and sweats, intently watching something on his phone and oblivious to the outside world. When he hears your excited Maxie! his thick neck snaps up, focused expression morphing into one of pure adoration as he swiftly stands up from the outdoor chaise and steps towards you. Schatje! he beams, broad arms opening to meet your running figure and easily picking you up to bury him face in your neck. You laugh delightedly, finally reunited with your golden retriever of a boyfriend. Missed you so much, pretty girl, Max murmurs, his deep voice muffled as he presses soft kisses all over your neck and chubby cheeks. Did you finish work early? Sorry, I got distracted, I was going to come pick you up.

You sigh contently, feeling some of stress of the past couple weeks leaving your tense figure just from your boyfriend’s warm and secure embrace. Max supports your full weight when you wrap your soft thighs around his toned waist, your YSL heels slipping off and landing on the ground. Not as much as I missed you, you promise, your small palms running across those ridiculously broad shoulders to gently tug at his soft locks. He draws back just enough to let your plush lips meet his, the pair of you smiling into the sweet kiss. You’re well on your way to a steamy make out when the ringtone of Max’s phone interrupts the mood. You pout as Max reluctantly pulls away, scowling when he sees his boss’s name flash on the screen. When he doesn’t bother answering the call, turning back to you instead, you curiously ask if he was going to get that.

Max firmly tells you absolutely not, I have much more important things I’d rather be doing as he carries you inside. He sets you down gently on the soft bed, moving to cover your much smaller frame underneath him as he grins down at your flushed face, his display of strength never failing to get your heart fluttering. Things like taking good care of my pretty girlfriend like she deserves, hmm?

Distantly, you hear his phone ringing again but it’s once again ignored as he leans down, desire clear in his gorgeous blue eyes. As much as you would rather resume your makeout session (and wow, did it take a lot of self control for you to pause this), you place a hand to his broad chest to gently halt him. He pauses, confused, and you tilt your head and ask if everything was okay, he normally would never miss Horner’s calls?

Max rolls his eyes at the mention of his boss’s name, flopping down next to you with his head propped up against a large palm. He grunts out that Horner had been up his ass for no reason lately, waffling and trying to skirt around the issue when Max had been very clear that the goddamn car was the issue this season.

Your boyfriend’s angled jaw clenches as he says this, his expression turning stormy as his mind wandered someplace else. You’re perplexed, as normally your boyfriend was a bit of a yapper - something you adored about him - and could easily complain to you for hours about anything troubling him. You feel a bit guilty as you may have taken a bit of a backseat this month given how rare a bad outcome was for Max’s races. You’d known that this season hadn’t been as stellar but assumed it would all smooth out - but by the looks of it, it clearly hadn’t, and you knew Max took his racing career extremely seriously and wouldn’t repeatedly avoid calls from Horner without good reason.

You sweetly apologise to Max for being so out of it, a worried expression on your face, especially since he had always been so attentive and caring to your needs. Especially last year when you’d been struggling with an eating disorder when fans had made vicious, jealous comments about your curvy figure once your relationship had gone public.

Max’s gaze softens as he looks down at your guilty brown doe eyes, his hand coming up to brush against yours which was resting on his stubbled cheek. His heart swells at seeing how cute you were trying so hard to make sure he was feeling okay. Oh, schatje, he croons, leaning down to lovingly kiss your adorably scrunched brows. Don’t worry, you always take such good care of me whenever I need it. It’s just the same old cycle of racing drama. Besides, things at the hospital were really hectic this month, right?

You try to protest the change in topic, wanting to bring it back to him, but then he’s sliding his tongue in to explore your mouth and you’re rather distracted, especially when his fingers trail up your fitted skirt. Your ass looks amazing in this, Max groans against your ear, his cheeks lightly dusted in pink despite his bold words, telling you he liked you in it so much he almost didn’t want to take it off. You giggle at that, coyly telling him he didn’t have to and guiding his hand to slide the skirt up over your thick hips, making his cheeks flush from your tempting show. Grinning wickedly, Max shamelessly lets his hungry gaze wander all over your curvy figure before he makes good on his earlier promise to take good care of his pretty girlfriend.

Really, there was no better stress relief than your boyfriend bending you in half, you think satisfactorily that evening when you and Max are out with friends for dinner. He catches your eye as you stretch your neck, your muscles pleasantly relaxed after a month of wound up tension. When he smirks at you over his G&T you flush, knowing he was probably thinking about how he’d had you in several different positions just a couple of hours earlier. Quickly joining the conversation on your right, you hope your friends don’t notice the heat rising to your cheeks everytime Max’s blue eyes meet yours. You two had been dating for over a year now, so you had no idea how he could still make you feel shy and flustered after an hour (or two) in bed.

Still, you hadn’t forgotten about your earlier conversation with your boyfriend, where you’d made it clear you wanted to support him more. Over the next couple of weeks, whenever you’d ask him about it, he’d open up a bit but you still noticed a frustrated edge to his behaviour. You tried to talk to him about it, of course, with a soft hand against his swollen bicep to sweetly murmur that you would always support him and ask how the latest debrief had been, was there anything you could do to help? You offered to cook his favourite dinner, or give him space to spend hours on his sim and practise, or personally go to headquarters right now and give Horner a peace of your mind for stressing out your talented boyfriend-

Max laughed, head tilted back and lips pulled into an adorable smile. You paused your rant to enjoy the sound of his genuine laughter, looking at him fondly as it never failed to make your heart race. But he’d still evade your inquiring questions and countless offers to do more, as your need to do more for Max the way he always supported you grew over the next month. For all his yapping, your boyfriend was very much an action man where it truly mattered.

So you made sure to attend his next race, rescheduling a few work commitments and joining him aboard his private jet to fly out to Singapore. He'd protested initially, of course, telling you that you didn't need to add more stress to your busy workload for his sake, but you'd firmly told him there was no where you'd rather be that weekend than by his side. And you remained steadfastly dedicated throughout the free practice and qualifying, diligently observing the team dynamics and Max's mood in response so you could debrief with him in the evenings, letting him yap about it to his heart's content. You made sure to give him space when he needed it or rub a soothing arm over his thick shoulders when he tensed, knowing how physical touch was your boyfriend's love language.

On race day, you arrived stylishly dressed in a House of CB floral corset dress and dainty heeled sandals that perfectly matched the weather. Smiling from behind your sunglasses at the multiple paparazzi and fan cameras clicking at you, you confidently walked alongside your boyfriend with your small hand in his much larger one. The pair of you made for a rather romantic sight with the large height difference, going viral on many a Pinterest board for your couple aesthetic. Of course, you'd learnt the hard way about how quickly public attention could burn someone badly with the hate comments you'd received about your weight or height from jealous fans when you two first went public. Although they had never stopped occurring, only increasing as you and Max stayed together, you had gotten far better at tuning them out. And it seemed your attentive boyfriend hadn't forgotten about it, either, judging by how his grip tightened around your delicate fingers and he protectively pulls you into his side when more paparrazi join the storm.

You're quick to reassure him, telling him how happy you were to be here, wanting him to focus on his race and knowing how guilty he would sometimes feel when reminded of how much his public career negatively affects those he loved. Besides, baby, you wink at him as he's about to buckle his helmet on in the driver's room, You know I hate to miss a chance to see you all worked up and sweaty in those slutty fireproofs!

Successfully diverted, your boyfriend now groans embarrassedly at your words, rolling his eyes but not being able to hide the cute blush that appears on his cheeks or his affectionate smile. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his chest warming at the sound of your happy giggles at his reaction. He can't resist pressing a kiss to your lips then, instead, making you promise you would stay safely in the garage the whole race. Of course, Maxie, you reassured, knowing he didn't need the worry of you encountering the occasional nasty fan adding to his stress. I'll be right here, I promise.

Once the race starts, you're asking yourself why on earth you weren't attending them more regularly, because the sight of Max expertly navigating the track never failed to make you hot and bothered. The high Singaporean temperatures only added to the heat on your face as you heard your boyfriend's normally gentle tone turn into a confident, demanding voice over the team radio. The race was a great one, with the Dutch Lion aggressively fighting his way to P2, making you clap your hands in excitement as he crossed the finish line.

Afterwards, his garage crew guided you to the podium, where Max's blue eyes sparkled warmly at you in the front row, as you laughed with delight, buzzing exctedly. You knew he had been raised to firmly believe only P1 mattered but since you'd begun dating him, you'd made it clear that he was always a strong champion and racer to you regardless of his position. You greeted him as he descended from the podium, beaming up at him as he took you into his strong arms to give you a passionate kiss, your heels lifting off the ground. Cameras clicked around the loving scene, but for once Max didn't mind, content in the feeling of you wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders to whisper how amazing his performance had been!

Setting you down, he took your smaller frame against his with his muscular arm across your shoulder, guiding you away from the crowd. He relaxes a bit closer to the safety of the garage, now answering some reporter's questions as they eagerly question him. He swears he'd taken his eyes off you for only a minute, but suddenly you're not at his side, and he immediately spins around mid interview to look for you. You're only a few meters away, chatting away to one of the news outlets. The reporter holding the microphone balks nervously when a angry looking, 6 foot blonde Dutch appears behind you, looking the very picture of a guard dog with his suspicious glare to the cameraman.

Noticing your boyfriend's intimidating presence, you welcome him into the conversation, saying you'd just been explaining how proud you were seeing him race, the turn into corner eight and when he'd overtaken the Mercedes with DRS were your favourite moments! The reporter hastily nodded, wiping away nervous beads of sweat as he confirmed Yes, yes, we were just discussing the race highlights, and many of our viewers were also eager to know who had styled your lovely girlfriend today, we had many fans hoping to buy the same outfit...?

Oh, Max says, softening his icy glare. Fine. My girlfriend is very beautiful, after all, I can see why those watching would want to have her style. Which she picks out, herself, by the way, no stylist or anything, he adds almost smugly. You giggle cutely at his overprotective antics, leaning in when he presses a kiss to the top of your head and stays by your side. Pinterest goes crazy that evening with the picture of your boyfriend adoringly gazing down at you, his muscled arm curled around your waist, as he listens to you animatedly explain your outfit to the reporter.

On the flight back home, he'd taken your smaller hand in his again, gently stroking it and avoiding your questioning gaze as he softly murmured that It had been hard, with work recently, and he'd loved having you there as a good luck charm. His cheeks are flushed again as he confesses, almost shyly, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand and looking down at your intertwined fingers instead of at your beaming face. He was grateful you'd come, knowing how hard it was to get out of work and also deal with the media circus. His words sounded dangerously close to guilty territory and you sit up immediately, pressing into him so that he finally looks up at you.

Not at all, Maxie you insisted, firmly telling him that the actual hard part had been trying to keep your hands off him, did he have any idea how insanely hot he'd looked when warming up with his trainer this week and boxing shirtless? I had to remind myself that this was technically your place of work and take a cold shower, you continue, enjoying seeing him erupt into laughter at your own confession. He'd slyly suggested that the race weekend was over and, well, maybe it was time to for you to finally join the the mile high club?

Your boyfriend always seemed to know how to make you flustered and you lose any upper hand you had immediately, gasping from his suggestive words and unable to meet his heated stare. Max! Wh-what if someone sees? you whisper nervously, to which Max laughs and tells you he'll just have to have you have you here on his lap then, where no one would notice. The cabin is already empty, giving you two complete privacy and Max doesn't hesitate to make the most of it. He uses the strong arms you'd been admiring to easily bounce you on his cock, the both of you still half dressed. You're completely powerless in his firm grip, eyes rolling in bliss as his large hands leave bruises over your hips from the intensity. You’re desperately trying to keep quiet and Max smirks at this, giving you another wicked thrust at just the right angle so you let out a squeal. You whine from his mean teasing and have to bite down on his shoulder to muffle your satisfied moans as he makes you cum on his cock, leaving a creamy white ring around the base. Afterwards, as he presses a loving kiss to your head as you fall asleep leaning against his shoulder, you can't help but pout over how little control you seem to have over Max in the bedroom as he uses his strength to control the pace. How were you ever going to make him go mindless and relaxed for once?

Of course, the drama continues with work well after Singapore, even though there was a month's break before the next race. Max's schedule is packed with meetings and discussions and debriefs on how to secure the WDC title again this year, and you make sure to keep an attentive eye on him. But to your frustration, you note Max is withdrawing again, turning down your offers to talk his frustrations through or let you take care of him for once. So after you’d already gifted him the latest e-sim racing game, and cooked his favourite foods for dinner, you naturally offered another one of your boyfriend’s favourite things - you.

When he returned from a late strategy meeting he’d had to fly out for, jaw tense and frustration evident on his face, he immediately felt himself start to unwind when he opened the front door of your shared apartment. The delicious smell of roast chicken and potatoes wafted out to the hallway, and he smiled as he walked towards the corner, knowing you must be in the kitchen from the Doja Cat song blasting that you hummed along too. Kissing and I hope they caught us, whether they like it or not...

Jimmy and Sassy, Max's cats, rubbed their tails along your freshly shaved and moisturised legs as you started cutting up the chicken you’d baked. Giggling at their demanding antics, you turn to kneel down and give them a small piece each, whispering that they had to promise they wouldn’t tell Max. An amused chuckle makes you startle and look up to see your boyfriend watching you, leaning against the counter. The tips of his ears go pink as he takes in your angelic white mini dress, its sweetheart neckline and tight waist with flowy skirt showing off your hourglass figure.

Maxie! You greet him excitedly, making his gaze wander when your tits press up against his firm chest when he bends down to let you kiss his cheek. You smelt so addictive, too, like honey and vanilla that he wanted to bury his face in and never leave. You excitedly show him what you’d made for dinner, stepping back and telling him to go take a shower while you finished up. And after he’d eaten your delicious cooking, groaning and telling you how much he missed it when away, you coyly smile and say you’d forgotten to make dessert but if he didn’t mind you had something sweeter you could give him?

The blush returns to Max’s face now as you lean him to give him a deep kiss before settling in between his thick thighs, spread wide apart. Within a few seconds you've pulled his impressive semi out of his sweats and are teasingly jerking him off, letting his leaking tip press against your chubby cheeks. It's a sight that never fails to drive your boyfriend wild and he groans when you swirl your wicked tongue over his sensitive head, one hand still pumping his shaft as you sweetly bat your wide, doe eyes up at him. He can see the curve of your plump ass on the floor peeking out as your white minidress rises up your soft thighs. You take him into your drooling mouth fully, eagerly deepthroating him and placing sloppy kisses along his length when you pull back to take a breath. Fuck, schat, it’s so fucking good, I’m not gonna last- Max swears above you, deep moans rumbling in his chest from your worship of him tonight, his blushing face thrown back into the sofa with pleasure as he threads his hands into your dark curls to softly tug at them. Pleased with yourself, thinking you'd finally gotten him to let go and relax, to let you take care of him for once, you jerk him off, your pink tongue darting out eagerly to catch his hot cum-

But your boyfriend has other plans, apparently, because suddenly he's leaning down and pulling you into his lap. You gasp at the unexpected movement, your hands automatically going around his broad shoulders. He kisses your protests away, leaving you whining that he should let you finish, you wanted to make him feel good, Maxie-

He cuts you off with a low groan against your lips, whispering you that you'd done such a good job, sweet girl, and now he wanted to eat dessert properly. And you hadn't been able to protest any longer because soon enough he had you sprawled across the soft sofa, moaning his name blissfully as he ate you out to completion. Always taste so damn sweet for me, schat he huskily murmurs against your soaked core, strong hand pressing on your soft tummy to hold you down. His blue eyes are trained on your flushed face as his deep, rumbling voice sends sparks shooting in between your legs. He then sends you into another head pounding orgasm when he sinks inside your inviting walls, whispering that it was never going to stop being the most addicting feeling he'd felt.

Face flushed from his generous praise, you desperately hold onto the cushions behind you as Max fucks you into the sofa. You plead with him to let you ride him, Maxie please, let me take care of you too-

Your boyfriend’s blue eyes darken at your request. Schatje, he croons into your ear, I wasn’t clear enough, hmm? The best fucking feeling in the world is having your tight pussy take my whole cock like this, letting me fuck all the stress away. He accentuates each word with a deep thrust, making you squeal and moan endlessly. So you stay right where you belong, sweetheart. Underneath me, taking all of me like a good girl, okay?

Your eyes widen at his dominating tone, your cunny clenching excitedly around his length at the thought of your normally sweet boyfriend using your body like a ragdoll to release his stress. you nod frantically, babbling that you’ll be so so good Maxie, you promise! Max grins wickedly at your teary expression, giving you a passionate kiss as he fucks you with full strength, not holding back as he drives you into a third dizzying orgasm. He’s not done, though, and your drooling pussy twitches from the overstimulation, making you moan weakly that it was too much, you couldn’t handle another one. Oh, we’re not stopping till I say so, schatje Max murmurs against your throat, making his way down to your bouncing tits and taking a swollen nipple into his hungry mouth. You promised to be a good girl, remember? This time you’re gonna squirt all over my cock.

—————————————————————————

A/N: thank you all sm for all the love and support for cuffing szn, i am absolutely here for the midsize girlies and glad you all enjoyed it so much!! Nothing like big boyfriend Max to get us going 😏 Hope part 2 is also good thank u for waiting so long for it xx lmk what u think!

[c0ffeejelly1]

Manhandling him

Multiple character headcannon

Authors note: UGH pls this whole things was for jokes bc I can’t really be that ask to make something I feel is good. Teehee. Also I can mischaracterise all I want okay let a girl dream pls. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warning: man it’s like the smallest hint of the nasty freaky stuff

“Babe, you got something on your face. Let me just…” You reach out to your boyfriend, making him look your way by gripping his chin firmly while you flick away a bit of ‘glitter’ from his cheek. “There you go.”

Strike one.

That was just the beginning of your strange behavior today.

“Hey baby, c’mere I wanna kiss…” you call him over from the other side of the kitchen counter, only to yank on his collar and pull him in for one hell of a snog. “Seriously, you have no business looking this good today.”

Strike two.

Just what was up with you today?

You just got home from work, and as he’s about to sit up to see you, you suddenly push him back down onto the couch, mumbling something about how much you “missed him”.

Strike three.

You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to your lips, but then you pause to check out his face.

Perhaps you took this prank too far…

The type to be oddly into it

“…are you hard?”

This snaps your boyfriend out of his thoughts.

He’d never ever ever thought he could find himself in a situation like this. this is the kind of stuff you see in movies, right? I mean, come on!

Just picture how mortifying it is to be turned on from someone mistreating you! It’s pathetic!

He can’t just blurt out, ‘oh hell yeah I’m hard’ in response to that question—why would anyone even think to ask that? What can a guy do in a moment like this except deny it?

“What? N-no!…” He glances away, feeling the weight of your intense gaze. “…maybe?”

When you raise an eyebrow at him, his mask crumbles entirely. There’s no use in pretending.

You’ve already seen right through him, leaving him no option but to retreat into a shadowy corner and disappear.

“Yeah.” He responds, his voice tinged with disappointment. “I…I am.”

Maybe it’s because of the way you handled him like he was nothing that made him so bothered.

Maybe it was the way you looked so desperate to have him that did it for him.

Either way, he’s discovered something about himself he never knew he ever had.

And make no mistake, you were going to exploit this discovery to the fullest.

“Have I told you how much I love you babe?” You pull back from his face after practically devouring it as he stands there, grinning like a lovesick fool, dishes still in hand.

“I think you should tell me more.”

“Wrap up with those dishes, and I’ll give you a demonstration instead.”

Be ready for one hell of a night cowgirl. Wink wink

Charcters: serizawa, armin, EREN, REINER, ukai, ATSUMU, Osamu, Gojo, CHOSO, leviathan, SATAN, DIAVOLO, IIDA, denki, tamaki, CHILDE, Cyno, sanji, LAW

The type to think you’ve finally gone crazy

you call out to him, noticing he seems lost in his phone. Yet, oddly enough, he flinches slightly every time you speak.

This reaction occurs whenever you draw near him, as if your voice startles him, even when you're just a breath away. It’s not that he dislikes your voice; rather, it feels like he’s a bit intimidated by you now.

What happened to the confident guy who was with you just two days ago? Why does he seem to be tiptoeing around you like a child with a fragile toy?

“Y/N…is everything alright?” He approaches you cautiously, maintaining a bit of distance, trying to balance his interest with a hint of hesitation. “You’ve been…um, I just wanted to check—are you upset with me?”

“Upset with you?” You set your phone aside, raising an eyebrow at him. “Why would I be upset? Did you do something wrong?”

That’s the very question he’s grappling with. Your passionate touches and fervent kisses have left him bewildered about your feelings.

Are you so enamored that you can’t help yourself, or are you retaliating for something he might have done? Suddenly, a thought strikes him.

“…If this is about how intense things got last night, I’m sorry, but you did ask for it when I warned you I wouldn’t hold back—” His words are cut short as your hand swiftly covers his mouth.

“No! No that’s—just no. It was a prank babe, a trend I saw online” you say, removing your hand and placing both on his shoulders. “Last night has nothing to do with today or any other day.”

“Not even you complaining about being sore?”

“Not even me complaining about…wait I never did that!”

“Yeah buts it’s easy to tell.”

Charcters: REIGEN, giyuu, giyomei, JEAN, KAGEYAMA, hinata, kuroo, OIKAWA, AKAASHI, geto, NANAMI, Solomon, IZUKU, Diluc, LAIOS, zayne, LAW (Sowy I can see him as both)

The type to also manhandle you

Did you honestly believe you could manhandle him without facing the same treatment in return? Come on this is your boyfriend we’re talking about, In fact, I think he’s thrilled that you can boss him around so effortlessly.

So thrilled that he makes it into a competition

“Okay let’s see who tackles the first person on the bed.” His eyes shine with enthusiasm as he confidently places his hands on his hips. “If I win I get to have my way with you, and if you win, you get to have me have my way with you. Deal?”

You pause for a moment to process his words “…uh, how is that fair?”

“What do you mean?” he replies, brushing off your concern with a grin.

“I think it’s perfectly fair. No matter the outcome, you get a nice little reward, right?” His voice dances with mischief as he nudges you playfully with his elbow, clearly trying to elicit a reaction.

You roll your eyes at him, feigning annoyance, before relenting, “I guess it’s not so bad..”

“Exactly! Now, I’m going to count down. Ready? 3…2…” Before you can fully grasp what’s happening, he lunges at you, tackling you onto the bed before he even reaches 1.

“H-hey! That’s cheating, you can’t do that!” But your protests are ignored, your boyfriend already having you wrapped in his warm embrace, his face buried against your neck.

“This is what you get for how you’ve been treating me today.”

“What are you talking about?” You pause for a moment, though you suspect he’s finally caught on to your little scheme. “You mean me kissing you like any normal woman would with the love of her life?”

“No. Just you touching me all weirdly…”

“Don’t say it like that you make me sound like a perv.”

“Maybe cause you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“…”

“…”

“I’m not.”

Charcters: RENGOKU, tengen, connie, NISHINOYA, hinata (yes again), kuroo (YESSS AGAIN), BOKUTO, TENDOU, MAMMON, DENKI (twice and what), kirishima, ITTO, rafayel, LUFFY

The type…yeah you ain’t doing that

Screw everything I just said in the intro. If you genuinely think you can manhandle this man and succeed. You’re crazy.

“Hey, come here, you’ve got something—” The moment your hand nears his face, he seizes your wrist, staring at you as if you’ve just committed a serious offense.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh…I’m trying to like get the little speck of glitter off your face.”

“We don’t own glitter?”

“Dust then?” He shoots you a skeptical glance.

“…sure.”

So that was an absolute fail…

But you’re not ready to throw in the towel just yet. No way! You just need to bide your time until nightfall, when he’s all soft and cuddly. That’s when you’ll make your move.

As the evening unfolds and you’re prepping for bed in the bathroom, you catch sight of him reaching for something in the cupboard above you. This is your moment. The time to pull him in close and—

SMACK

“The hell? What was that for?” He rubs his forehead, clearly taken aback by your sudden move.

Who knew kissing your boyfriend could be this complicated? Somehow, you ended up colliding headfirst into him, and now he’s clearly fed up with you.

“That wasn’t how it was supposed to go…” you say with a shy smile, nervously scratching the back of your head. “You alright?”

You gently move his hand away from his forehead to check for any damage, and to your surprise, he lets you.

Wait a minute… you actually moved his hand, and he’s okay with it? Is this manhandling? I think it’s manhandling. It’s manhandling.

“…I did it.”

“Did what?”

“I touched you!”

“??”

Pls stop confusing this man he’s already tired enough.

Charcters: dimple, akashi, MIDORIMA, aomine, sanemi, KAGEYAMA (yes again), TSUKISHIMA, iwaizumi, TOJI, LUCIFER, bakugou, AIZAWA, sylus, ZORO,

[miedei]

sick day

roommate!spencer is sick (and lovely)

a/n: wrote this in a fugue state i think, just couldn't get the thought of being spencer's roommate out of my head

cw: best friends who definitely don't love each other noooo why would you say that, spencer is sick and annoying but also the best

wc: 2k

mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

Living with Spencer Reid is usually wonderful. He’s relatively neat, but messy enough that you don’t have to walk on eggshells around him. He’s always willing to recommend you a new read, he doesn’t judge you when you spend an entire day slumped on the couch, and is always up to help you stress bake. 

It’s decidedly wonderful, until it’s not. A week into your living together, you’d realised what a workaholic he was. After the first time you’d caught him asleep on top of paperwork in the living room, you’d understood how much of a pain Spencer Reid really can be. 

Unfortunately, today is one of those days. Spencer returned from a case last night, and the moment you’d seen the slump in his shoulders, you knew you were going to have to work from home today. 

“You really don’t have to stay home. I don’t even have to stay home! I’m seriously not sick, I swear!” His voice is low, as if attempting to mask the rasp in it. It doesn’t work.

His rambling doesn’t cease, not the entire time you steer him away from the front door and into the living room. 

“Yeah? Spence, do you even remember the last time you got sick? I came home to find you lying on the dining table! I’m not going to leave and come back to you trying to climb out of the window or something.” You deadpan, watching him cross his arms and grumble something about ‘elevating the upper body’, and ‘actually very good for the immune system’. 

Having shoved him not-too-lightly onto the couch, you stand with your arms crossed, eyes narrowed on him.

“I can’t believe you were going to go to work! Living with you is like living with a child sometimes, god. You know you would have been sent home straight away, look at you.” You gesture wildly at him. 

He’s a pathetic sight, curled up on the couch looking distinctly sorry for himself. His hair is limp, flat against his scalp, his weak limbs shoved haphazardly in a button down and slacks. He hasn’t even knotted his tie, leaving it hanging loosely around his neck. 

Grabbing his phone out of his bag, you thrust it towards him. 

“Call your boss and tell him you need a sick day. You said it yourself, it’s just paperwork today, right? You can take a day off once in a while, Spence, it won’t kill you.” Once finished, you stomp out of the room, heading to his bedroom to grab him some clothes. Surveying his closet, you grab one of his Caltech hoodies and a pair of sweatpants, grinning to yourself when you hear his hoarse voice on the phone. 

As you walk back into the living room, he’s settled in, clearly resigned to his fate. 

“Yeah, Hotch, I need the day off. I’m sorry, I’m just- Oh. It’s okay? You’re sure? Um, okay. Thanks Hotch.” He hangs up, his eyebrows pinched as if he’s loath to admit you were right. 

You can’t help it, snickering as you dump the sweats and hoodie on his chest. 

“I told you so.”

“You’re so mean to me.” 

It’s nice, spending a day with Spencer like this, even with how whiny he is. Sitting at the desk in the living room, you’re not being incredibly productive, but Spencer’s fever-induced rambles more than make up for it. 

“So, some moron made a blog called ‘What Would Carl Sagan Do?’, and Garcia - remember her, my coworker? She showed it to me, and oh my god, it’s so ridiculous! I mean, to start, all the entries were lifted from different sci-fi movies and books, and they were all so inaccurate, like, ‘The Martian Chronicles’ were good, but it’s been debunked so many times! Carl Sagan debunked it!”

He’s laying on his back on the couch, slender fingers waving in the air above him, eyes lidded as he speaks animatedly. 

“Yeah? What was wrong about it?” You rise from the desk chair, heading into the kitchen. “Also, do you want tea?”

His voice softens, speaking slower as he answers your question. “Yeah, that black tea you brought home last week, please.”

You can hear the moment he slips back into his rant, words growing more and more spirited as he continues to rail against whatever that blog was. Puttering around the cramped kitchen, you let his words roll over you, balancing two mugs and a plate in your hands. 

He doesn’t stop speaking, but flashes you a grateful smile as he takes a mug from you, swiping a cookie from the plate before delving back into the topic at hand.

“So, Bradbury, and a lot of the other sci-fi writers of the time, believed that colonisation of Mars would be possible within the 20th century. And then, in 1960, Carl Sagan, along with a bunch of other astronomers, discovered that Mars doesn’t have an atmosphere, so humans living there long term is virtually impossible without a huge improvement in technology, which probably won't happen until the latter half of the 21st century. And this moron with a blog is pretending like Sagan wouldn’t care, and that he would advocate for irresponsible space travel and I hate him.” 

He finishes with a huff, taking a large gulp of tea and sitting up against the couch. His eyes are hazy with exhaustion, eyelids drooping as he looks at you. You can’t help but giggle. He looks adorably dishevelled, and his eyebrows pinching together at your laughter only intensifies it.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

“I’m- I’m sorry Spence, you just look really cute right now, like you’re going to fall asleep.” You can barely get it out, body shaking with mirth. His eyebrows furrow further, a slight pout forming on his lips. 

His attempts to get you to stop laughing go unanswered, and he huffs once more, crossing his arms and settling against the couch cushions. 

It’s the late afternoon when a knock on the door stirs you from your reverie. Spencer is sitting next to you, your legs slung over his lap as he leans back, eyes trained on The Fellowship of the Ring on the television as his hands tap out something on your calves. 

“Are you expecting anyone?” He shakes his head no, not averting his gaze from the screen. 

You sigh, jostling his shoulder. 

“Spence. Spence, can you go get the door? It’s probably a salesman or something.” 

He hums, shaking his head once more. 

“Can’t. Too sick.”

You groan, tipping your head back in frustration before hauling yourself off the couch, flicking his shoulder as you walk past.

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” His only response is a grin, before he turns back to the movie. 

Grumbling under your breath, you trudge through the room to the front door, frowning when you look through the peephole to see two figures. 

One is shorter than the other, a woman wearing a hot pink and orange dress that should be garish, but looks completely natural on her. The man next to her is grinning, holding several plastic bags in one hand, the other arm linked with the woman’s. 

Not salesmen. 

Concluding that they’re probably not a threat, you swing the door open, causing their heads to pop up. 

“Hey, Reid- Oh.” The man speaks immediately, but pauses when he sees you. 

“You’re not Reid.” The woman concludes. 

You tilt your head to the side, confused. 

“Yeah, I’m not. Um, how do you know Spencer?” 

They share a confused look.

“We’re his coworkers. Derek and Penelope. Sorry, who are you? Do we have the wrong apartment?” 

You brighten, recognising the names from Spencer’s many stories about work. 

“Oh, that’s who you are! No, you’ve got the right apartment, of course. Come in.” You turn to the side, allowing them to walk in, although their expressions remain bewildered. “I’m Spence’s roommate, Y/N. He’s in the living room.”

“Roommate?” Derek exclaims before setting his sights on Spencer, striding over to him. 

“Hey, pretty boy.” Spencer jolts, the haze of sickness having made sure that he didn’t notice them till now. His voice is higher than normal, squeaky. 

“Morgan! What are you- Garcia? Why- why are you here?” Penelope smiles mischievously, plopping down on the couch next to Spencer. 

“Well, we obviously wanted to check up on you, Boy Wonder. This is the first sick day you’ve taken in the last two years - don’t try to lie to me, I checked - and now, we’re very interested in your friend here.” Her smile loses its teasing edge when she turns to you. 

A grin spreads over your face, recognising the same teasing affection you feel towards him in the two newcomers. Retaking your seat on Spencer’s other side, you pull your feet up on the couch, tucking them under Spencer’s thigh. 

Penelope squeaks quietly, but averts her gaze when you look up at her questioningly. 

“So, you guys have worked with Spence for a while, huh?”

Derek sits in the armchair across from you, chuckling under his breath.

“Since he was 22. Back when he straightened his hair and wore those sweater vests that were three sizes too big.” Spencer lets out a strangled noise of protest next to you, but you both ignore him in favour of continuing your conversation. 

“Seriously? I’ve seen one photo of him back then, but then he started hiding them all from me. You got any?” 

Penelope perks up, pulling out a tablet from her work bag. 

“Yes! Oh my goodness, sweetheart, I have so many. Did you know, he used to do this thing where he would gel his hair back, said it made him look older but it was honestly just really cute, hold on…”

She shifts and moves to sit on your other side, huddling over the tablet with you and Derek. 

Spencer is suddenly left in the lurch, stuck observing the three of you from the other end of the couch. He feels like he should be irritated, angry even, but he can’t do anything but watch, eyes softening. 

“Oh my god, Spencer, you were so cute, what happened?” Never mind, he’s feeling a bit irritated now.

It’s not endearing, no. No matter how lovely you look, your face flushed with excitement. No matter how easily you fit in with some of his favourite people in the world.

It’s not captivating, not at all.

[starzify]

let go for me — dean winchester

pairing dean winchester x fem!reader

warnings smut | cunnilingus | angst | hurt/comfort

MASTERLIST

You don’t realize you’re crying until Dean’s thumb brushes your cheek, catching a tear before it can fall. He’s standing too close now, his expression tight, unreadable—but his touch is soft, grounding.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs.

You shake your head, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat. “I don’t—I can’t.”

Dean exhales sharply, his hand sliding to your jaw, tilting your face up just enough to make you look at him. His eyes search yours, flickering with something like frustration, but not at you—at whatever’s hurting you, at the way you’re holding it all in.

“You don’t have to be strong right now,” he says, voice rough, low. “Let go for me.”

Something in your chest cracks.

The weight of it all—everything you’ve been carrying, everything you’ve been trying to push down—it surges up like a tidal wave, and before you can stop it, a sob rips from your throat.

Dean catches you before you can fall apart completely. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into the solid warmth of his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head as you tremble against him. He doesn’t shush you, doesn’t tell you it’s okay—he just lets you break, lets you cry into his shirt, his own breath uneven as he holds you.

“I got you,” he murmurs against your hair. “I got you.”

You don’t know how long you stay like that—pressed against him, taking in the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the quiet strength of him.

And then, slowly, carefully, he pulls back just enough to see your face. His thumb swipes another tear away, his touch lingering this time, tracing down to your lips, his fingers trembling slightly where they brush your jaw.

You look at him with glassy eyes that are filled with the desire of comfort. “Make me feel better, Dean.” You desperately begged.

And when his lips finally press against yours, warm and slow and filled with something so much deeper than just comfort.

He plants a kiss on your temple before delicately removing the clothing off of your body. Dean swallows hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let me take care of you.”

He slowly gets down on on his knees, keeping his eyes on yours while doing so. He planted a few kisses on the inside of your thighs before licking a stripe up your slit, earning a moan from you. “More.” you murmured, and Dean listened to you. The only thing he cared about, at the moment, was to make you feel better.

His tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves as your hands latched on to his hair. You subconsciously began grinding your cunt against his mouth as his hand reached out to squeeze your breast. He backed his mouth away for a second and looked up at you. “Am I doing a good job?” he mumbled in a soft, almost vulnerable tone. “Yes, baby. You’re doing awesome,” you praised, caressing his head as you continued fucking yourself against his mouth.

Soon enough, the knot in your stomach began to tighten. “Dean, I’m gonna cum.” you panted, gripping onto the bedsheets. “Let go for me, sweetheart.” he commands.

tags: @beausling @titsout4jackles @ultravi0lence14 @bluemerakis @figthoughts @deanswidow @deanssun @whisperingdaze @deansbeer @deanangel @frosttbitessam

[vampiresbloodx]

I wonder how good your hands feel around my neck.

pairings: Vi x reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings/contains(18+ ONLY): smut, Vi loves her some tits, clubbing, tattoo artist!vi, innocent!reader, porn without plot/plot what plot, top!vi, dirty talk, flirting, daddy vi, fingering

You have the absolute filthiest thoughts that come to mind while getting tattooed. Some you really can’t control, they just appear and you end up fixated on them for hours, before you know it, your session has ended. 

Vi, short for Violet, is the first artist who’s ever tattooed you ever. With her pink hair, to her muscles that are covered in ink. You can’t help but wonder how strong she is, you know she’s talked about how she did boxing one time, she even tried karate, many forms where she gets to fight and use her hands. 

You know she’s good with her hands. 

When you first got your tattoo done by her, you focused on the way her fingers moved the entire time and how the art came alive on your skin, the needle not even bothering you. She was impressed at how long you can stay still. 

You were slightly surprised yourself. You didn’t mind the pain, the pain had slowly turned into pleasure meeting halfway. That’s what made it all worth it. 

You’d work more hours just to save more money so you could see her again, you thought at first you loved her style, how she worked, all that. But then you realised it was more than that. 

Almost you wanted to stop going to her, and you did for a while, focusing on other things in your personal life. Actually trying to hang out with your friends and go outside instead of only going to work and the few shops and stores you went to. It was nice for a while, you did miss her, which felt stupid when she didn’t know you at all. She was just a girl that gave you a few tattoos, some of your best. 

And then you saw her again. 

You went out with a couple of friends on a saturday night, you couldn’t describe the shock you were in when you saw a familiar pink haired girl who was at the same bar as you. Even in a big city, it's strange how you can see the same faces again. 

She was actually here. 

You couldn’t contain how much your heart was racing, you weren’t even paying attention to anything your friend was saying, she grinned when she saw who you were staring at. 

“Hey, is that-” 

“That’s no one,” you interrupted quickly, looking away.

She smiled more. 

“Just go and talk to her, it won’t be as weird since you two already know each other.” 

You shook your head, “that would still be fucking weird and you know it.” 

She shrugged, “maybe a little. But what if I told you she’s coming your way right now?” 

Wait, what? 

Before you could ask any more questions as you thought she was messing with you, it turns out she wasn’t. Just as you turned around to look where Vi was, she was really walking towards you, in your direction, maybe she might just walk past, not even notice you, maybe she saw someone else instead. 

And of course your friend ditched you. 

You heard your name being called. 

It never sounded so much nicer coming from her mouth. 

“Vi? Hey” you tried to act smoothly, as if you didn’t know she was already here. 

“I have to say, you look good, like really good.” 

Did she just?... 

Were you actually dreaming right now? 

“You look great yourself” you decided to say back, it didn’t seem like it would hurt if you flirted back a little. 

She really did though. She wore black ripped jeans, loose tank top that showed a bit of her abs that you couldn’t help but look at shamelessly. God you were obsessed with her. You had an issue. But right now all you could think about was how her hands would feel around your neck as she fucked you silly. 

You didn’t see how much closer she got to stand next to you, until your hands brushed against one another. You couldn’t focus. With the loud music blasting in your ears, the lingering touches. What did she want? 

“Where are your friends?” she asks, her eyes never leaving yours, as you bite down on your bottom lip. 

“She left, of course.” 

“She left a pretty girl like you all by yourself?” she hummed, tilting her head to the side. “Can I keep you company for a lil while? I can make it worth your time.” 

How could you ever deny her? 

You followed her back to her place, you haven’t gone home with someone in a while, you’re happier it was with her than any other stranger. 

She held your hand with a strong grip, leading you the way, making sure you were always with her. The silence between you both wasn't even uncomfortable, you actually enjoyed it. 

It was the thrill of her that was exciting to you, you craved more. 

You laughed with her as her hands roamed your body, touching you wherever she pleases and where you wanted her to be. You let her. And then you found yourself begging for more, it wasn’t long until she had you where she wanted you to be, on top of you as she teased you, slowly taking your clothes off. 

“I hate to take these pretty clothes off, but I think i’d be more happy to see your naked body” she licked her lips, you made a noise as she raised an eyebrow at you. “Someones getting needy.” 

“Please, just touch me” you whimpered.

She spread your thighs apart, keeping one hand a tight grip on them to make sure you don’t move as much. You liked it. The way she stared at you had you squirming. 

“But i'm already touching you?” she teased, and so easily, she slipped a finger inside your wet pussy, moaning at how well you fit her, she wanted to fill you up. 

“God baby, you’re soaking” she groaned, thrusting her finger in and out slowly on purpose, hearing you whine louder, she loved how vocal you got the harder and faster she fucked you. 

Her other hand played with your tits, as she groped you and fondled with them, you were on cloud nine, why didn’t you do this sooner? You both wondered. She really wanted to taste you badly. She wanted to make you cum on her face, make you ride her, hear just how loud you can get. 

She added another finger in and another, stretching you out as she imagined how fucking sexy you’ll look riding her thick strap on, as you cried sweetly. 

“Who knew you were such a slut, behind how innocent you showed yourself to others” she chuckled. She felt herself getting more turned on, getting off on how wet you are for her. “You gonna come for me, baby? Make a mess on my fingers? I want you to come.” 

You let out a sweet release of a beautiful cry, she wanted more. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as your body shook. Still you craved her touch. You didn’t just want it to be over, and she didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. 

“I hope you’re not thinking of leaving me.” 

“No, I need you.” 

“Good girl, now come use me as a seat, would you?.” 

[imsofreakingtired]

omg hiiii!! i’ve been reading your blog or on the sevika tag and always end up back at your page so it’s time to make a request 😈

could i request for a hurt n comfort with reader who struggles with self worth and often results in isolating themselves with sevika comforting them? 🤗

hello hi :D ty for readingg! ...and oomph this one hits hard for me lmao

i always want you when i'm finally fine

content warning(s): blood, injury, heavy (ish?) angst, hurt/comfort

"will you let me, baby, lose on losing dogs? i know they're losing and i'll pay for my place by the ring, where i'll be looking in their eyes when they're down, i'll be there by their side"

~~~

You’re spiraling again. The sentence flickers like a dumb warning across your brain. Of course you are. You didn’t need the fucking news flash. 

You angrily rip off a piece of the tattered cloth with your teeth and press it against the wound in your side. It’s still seeping blood, but not as much as before. You bite down on the pain and let it take over, hold the reins, hoping it’ll distract you from the other things. The worst things. 

What was that, the third mission you messed up on? 

Nice going. Yeah, very nice going. You’re a great fucking help to Sevika. 

You press hard against the wound and involuntarily let out a yelp of pain. “Shut up,” you mutter to yourself. “Shut up.” 

You’re so fucking worthless. What if the crew got caught? 

“No one got caught,” you whisper aloud. “It was just a slip-up. Just a slip-up.” 

A slip up. How many more will there be before you learn your fucking lesson? 

You let go of the cloth, reach for the bottle of alcohol on the floor beside you.

What if things had gone worse?

You bite the cork out of the bottleneck and spit it across the room.

What if something happened to Sevika because of your SLIP-UP?

“FUCK!” 

Your head knocks back against the wall, eyes shut tight in agony. An explosion of hellfire spreads, bomblike, through your midsection. The alcohol dribbles down your side and into your waistband. 

Worthless. Worthless idiot. 

“Shut up!”

“Who are you telling to shut up?” 

You look up quickly. Sevika stands at the top of the stairs leading into the basement. You hadn’t heard her open the door. A cigarette dangles from her lips and the smoke curls in the dusty air as she walks down the steps and toward you. She crouches down in front of you and sees, for the first time, your bloodstained shirt. Her eyes widen slightly. 

“Shit. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were tagged?”  

You’re embarrassed that she caught you in this state, you’re furious at yourself that you let her catch you. So you knock her hand away when she reaches for you. “I’m fine,” you snap.

She scoffs. “Right.” When you don’t move your hands from your body, she stubs out her cigarette and grabs your hand, pulling it away from the wound. She frowns. “The hell did you do, throw liquor on it?” 

“I can handle it. Leave me alone.” 

“Can’t see well in this light,” she grunts. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

“Fuck off,” you hiss, and your voice is all the more fierce, because you can feel the tears rising in your throat when you see her concern—a concern, you think, that you don't deserve. And you’re panicking because if she sees you cry, she’ll know for sure that you are weak. She’ll see that you’re not worth her time. 

You expect her to get angry, storm off with a huffy “fine.” But she doesn’t. She assesses you calmly, one eyebrow raised, as if your emotions amuse her. 

“I’m fine,” you say again, blinking hard and avoiding her gaze. “Just—leave me alone.” 

At last, she stands, and you think bitterly that you’ve won. You wait until you hear the door shut behind her before you let out a deep, shuddering breath, a breath that was collecting like poison in the pit of your stomach since you let Sevika into your life, a breath that begged for someone to return it to your body. You wanted her to take care of you. You wanted it so badly. 

But you felt like you didn’t deserve it. 

The worst of the moment is over, and the tears do not come. You sit there with your back to the wall, listening to the throb of your heart, feeling the steady burn of pain in your abdomen droning through your body. 

Then the door opens again. 

Sevika comes back down the stairs, business-like, with a roll of bandages and a small bottle tucked under her human arm. Her mech arm carries a chemtech oil lamp. She kneels down again on the floor in front of you, setting down the objects.

“What are you—”

“Shut up.” She pushes the bottle to your lips. “Drink this.” 

You open your mouth and drink, because it saves you at least for a moment from talking. The whiskey is strong and hot going down. It tastes like Sevika. 

She cleans your wound and wraps it with a dexterity that came from having done it on herself countless times before. “Leave you alone?” she echoes back to you. “The hell I will.” 

When she’s done, she takes her cloak off and wraps it around your shoulders. Her sharp grey eyes, like the beam of a lighthouse that never misses the lonely boats drifting out in the dark sea, seek yours. 

“You’re my girl,” she tells you in a softer voice. “And I look after what’s mine.”

~~~

thank you @lez-zuha for the req :)

[neovillains]

DEATHBED | PART THREE.

( NO INTEGRITY : FUSHIGURO TOJI ) you never typically accepted male clients, but after being the only one left in the office, you let your fear consider your safety. and now... you're kind of grateful for it. | watch time: 4.0k words.

── perverted gilf!toji fushiguro & esthetician!reader, fem-bodied!reader (s!her pronouns), toji gets a manzilian, high age gap, bribery, sadomasochism, facial, masturbation, oral fixation, blowjob/deepthroating, dirty talk, features esthetician!geto suguru, etc.

notes. i had so much fun writing this tee bee ayche. i want toji to cum all over my face. n e weighs... we almost done ! one more chapter to go !

gojo satoru | nanami kento | sukuna ryoumen

You never really took in male clients. It’s something you made sure of early in your career of being an esthetician. It only took one man to put the entire gender on the hard no list. However, as this older man stands in front of you, hazel green eyes that intimidate and should send alarms through your mind, you’re contemplating on making an exception. From his ID, he’s in his late seventies. He should be mature enough to handle what he’s requesting— a manzilian. 

Looking at the clock, it’s inching closer to six p.m., when you’re supposed to be clocking out for the evening. The clerk having left already and leaving you to your lonesome, anxiety spikes within you and being your sole reason for why you’re even considering scheduling an appointment with him. You inhale through your nose, exhaling through your mouth. You glance at his idea once more, reading his name as you’re typing his name into the system— Fushiguro Toji. 

Then, you’re glancing up at him. Salt n’ pepper hair, and lines underneath his eyes that show his years. His eyes pierce into yours, still waiting for you to confirm it. He cocks up an eyebrow, impatience growing inside of him. “Are you usually this slow?”

“Sorry,” you say under your breath, eyes going back to the screen as you click on the calendar, checking the most available slots. You grumble to yourself when you see that you have an opening just for tomorrow at five. You consider lying, but rationally, you know it would be better to get this over with quickly more than anything else. “I have tomorrow at five available. Is that fine with you?”

“Yes,” he answers curtly.

“And if you’d like,” your eyes light up when you see your male coworker also has an opening alongside your name, taking the opportunity. “Our male esthetician is open—”

“You’ll do just fine.” Your heart drops. You can tell that this man means what he says and that any type of persuasion would be shut down. But, you still try. 

“Are you sure?” you continue. “You might find yourself more comfortable—”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine with just you,” he interjects once more. The corner of his lips rising and when you look at that scar, anger fills you. You’d love to make it deeper. 

Of these years that you’ve been an esthetician, you think you’d have grown a backbone. You thought you had, but whenever issues with clients came up, you always had someone else along your side to back you up. Right now, that desperation to go home and the fear of being the only worker inside the building runs all sense away from your mind, making you too afraid to stand up for yourself in the possibility of experiencing any harassment. So, as quickly as possible, you type in the information you need, asking him for his form of payment before he slides his debit card into your hand and you click confirm. 

“Just check to see if you’re received a notification that your appointment has been scheduled and you’ll be all set for the night,” your voice is higher than typical, looking up at the man behind the desk and watching as he pulls out his phone. You can’t help but notice how veiny his hands are, littered in melanated dots as he swipes across the screen. When he sees the text in regards to the appointment, he gives a curt nod and a grunt. “Got it.”

“Great,” you say, letting out a deep breath as you reach for your handbag and head towards the door. “Well, have a good night! I’ll be seeing you tomorrow evening.”

However, as you reach for your car keys inside of your bag, you can still feel his calling presence over you. “You’re closing up, right?” 

“No,” you lie. “Our last esthetician’s cleaning up around back.”

“Hm,” he huffs, silently calling your bluff, but doesn’t say anything else about it. “Let me walk you out. It’s getting dark out.”

Oh, your eyes widen. That was the last thing you were expecting from him. Though, you still hesitate, glancing outside of the building. You typically park in the closest parking spot. Who wouldn’t? It’s very convenient, but it’s coincidental how you were running late today and someone else managed to snag your habitual spot. Now, you have to walk a fair distance to your car. “Thank you.”

The walk is silent and he never says anything to you, simply waiting for you to unlock your car door. He opens it for you, watching you drop your bags onto the passenger seat before getting inside yourself. Good night, he told you before shutting the door and walking away, never giving you a moment to respond back. As you start up your car, you wonder if your judgment has been misplaced. Maybe your appointment with the man wouldn’t be as bad as the nightmare stories you’ve heard and experienced. 

—

When you’re finished with your second to last appointment, you glance at the clock. You have fifteen minutes to prepare for your last appointment for the day, something you’ve been anticipating to get over with so that you can go home. Sanitizing the bed and cleaning out the wax melter, you’re surrounded by silence before leaving the small room. Conveniently, Geto Suguru— the only esthetician to work in the afternoon alongside you— is in the main area. Pulling off his gloves before glancing at you, he motions you to follow him. Bringing you to the side, a look of concern washes over his face.

“I can’t believe you accepted a male client,” eyebrows scrunched together, he gets straight to the point. “Why didn’t you mention to me that someone came in after I left? I would’ve come back to handle it.”

“I didn’t want to bother you with that,” you explain. “You were probably at home by the time he came in.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter,” Geto says. “You know I’m willing to drop everything if you need the help. We’re here for each other.” 

“Don’t worry, Sug,” you try to calm his worries. “I’m just going to hope and pray that everything goes smoothly and try to go as quickly as I can.”

“I’m going to wait for you tonight,” he says, leaving you nowhere to argue. Nonetheless, you try. 

“Sug,” your shoulders drop, exasperated. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t have to, but I will.” Just as he says that, the bells to the door jingle. You hear Geto’s deep sigh. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear—” In a low voice, Suguru whispers. “—That’s him, right?”

“Yeah,” you say, nudging him. “And go home—” you point. “—don’t wait for me.”

He doesn’t say anything, but underneath your skin, you know that there’s no way that he actually listened to you. Toji’s eyes are on you and you put on a bright smile. “Good evening. How’re you?”

“I’m doing alright,” the older man answers simply. You check the time, realizing you only have five minutes before his appointment officially starts. And instead of taking responsibility, you blame your lack of preparation on your coworker. Damn, Sugu. 

“That’s great,” you chirp. “Give me around five minutes and I’ll call you back to get started.”

He nods silently before finding a seat in the waiting area.  You put some pep in your step, heading back into the room and getting everything ready. Though you did the brunt of what you needed to do, you wipe down the bed once more heading to the door and poking your head out, you meet his sitting stature focused on the running television. 

“Fushiguro,” you call his last name out, catching his attention. “I’m ready. You can come on back.”

Leading him inside, you hold the door open for him as you gesture to the bed. “I remember you briefly telling me this isn’t your first time getting a manzilian, but would you like for me to do a brief rundown of what to expect?”

“If it means hearing more of your voice, then that’s alright with me, love.” The sentence catches you off guard, making your heart plummet to the pit of your ass. Your body stiffens up as you turn yourself away from the man so you don’t have to look him in the eye. The way he had said it so seamlessly makes your skin crawl. You feel a bit foolish to have dropped your guard simply because he offered to walk you to your car last night. Letting out a breath, you ignore his sentence. 

“Because you’re an older man, it might be more painful for you, so I’ll try to be as gentle as possible, but—” After your brief rundown of the expectations, you give him a bit of privacy before coming back inside. You change into another pair of gloves before reaching for the thing of wax and the strips. The thin veil of the paper-like cover rests over his lap as he lays patiently on the bed. You just want to get this done as quickly as possible. “Are you ready? First, I’ll be cleaning you up first, but do you feel prepared for me to start the entire process?”

Mhm is his only response before you’re asking him to rest his feet up. “At any point, you want to stop, just let me know.”

“I’m pretty sure with hands like yours, you’ll be treating me very sweetly,” he says. “Don’t worry, dear.”

Drowning out everything, you lift up the veil before pausing. Over the past couple of years, you’ve taught yourself to keep up a stoic expression, keeping yourself as calm and collected as possible. However, you can feel your eyes widen ever so slightly and you feel like the most unprofessional esthetician ever just at the fact that you’re gawking over this older man’s appendage. 

When he walked in last night, you had taken into account his build. You can tell that in his younger years, he did extensive workouts and deeply cared for his body. He was handsome for his age and you can tell that he knew that. He was silent, but there was a silent stir of confidence within him that you couldn’t ignore. And even now, while you’re stagnant, you can feel a heat of confidence building up inside of him. Still, however, you never look as you’ve calculated inside of your head that he’s at least eight inches, probably— most likely— bigger than that. And you don’t like how you feel something in the pit of your stomach, and it’s not due to discomfort. 

Just like you’d typically do, you clean him up. When you feel a tremor from his leg, you pause and finally look up. “Are you alright?”

“You can keep going,” he says, not directly answering your question. Shoulders dropping as you try your best to relax, you continue. And it’s apparent, the erection that’s building up as you clean his pubic hair. You’re gentle and careful with every move you make, noticing how his chest rises every time your glove-clad hands graze his length. It’s strikingly silent that it’s killing you. Typically, you liked to spark up conversations during your client’s appointments, but what were you to say to a man that’s getting hard from simply being cleaned?

After you finish cleaning him, you dispose of the cloth before switching into another pair of gloves. Reaching for the wax and the strips, you pause. “I’m going to start waxing. Just like before, let me know if you’d like to stop at any point.”

“Yeah, okay,” he says gruffly.  And with that, you adjust his legs before setting the wax onto the strip. A sense of haste runs over you as you plaster on the strip and then quickly ripping it off. It was your preferred method as the shock seemed to make it less painful. Majority of your clients liked that you said no warning and just ripped it off. 

It seemed to be the same way for Toji. Despite the curse muttered from under his breath, his cock jumped as a strip of hair was extracted from his skin. You glanced up, waiting for him to say anything, but he never did. Continuing forth, you noticed how his tip started to leak pre. You tried to ignore it, but you started to subconsciously go slower, which only seemed to be fortunate on the older man’s part.

Toji should feel some shame within him. To insist on you giving him a manzilian and for the blatant flirting he’d throw your way on occasion, but fuck, he doesn’t. The feeling of your hand against him, gently cleaning him before hastily pulling at his skin with no sense of TLC. It only continued to spark that heat within him, making him painfully hard. Precum leaked through his mushroom-shaped tip and he didn’t feel any sort of humiliation for it. He was a man and for him, this was normal. However, while he usually didn’t need anyone to touch his length directly, he was yearning for more the more you went on.

Your moves were getting slower and it was as though you were edging him now. Gnawing at his bottom lip, when he felt your hands touch at his pelvis, finally clearing off his inner thighs, he felt a pathetic sense of desperation run through him. “How much would it take?”

“Huh?” He had evidently caught you off guard, causing you to retract. 

“How much could I pay you,” he started, “to let me masturbate?”

Halting all actions, you nearly knock over the thing of melted wax. You stumble to catch it, making the older man chuckle. “There's no reason to make a mess now. ‘S just a simple question.”

On the other side of the door, the moment that Geto heard the slight fumble, he was quick to his feet, standing behind the door and knocking on it. “Everything alright in there?”

You curse to yourself, your coworker’s voice not doing anything to settle your nerves. “Yeah, Sugu. Just clumsy as always.”

There’s a pause before he responds, “Alright.”

When you no longer see the shadow of Geto’s shoes from under the door, you let out the breath you were subconsciously holding. “Don’t tell me you had a guard dog out for me. I’m not gonna hurt you, love.”

“I don’t know that,” you answer truthfully. “If you want, you could probably kill me right now.”

“Probably,” he doesn’t deny. “But, you’re not dead right now, so that should let you know all you need to.”

You look him in his eyes and then back to his hardened length. He chuckles before you could truly contemplate and dissect what he’s asked you. “How much?”

“Is there a possibility that I can say no?”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t have a few extra bucks in your pocket.”

“75,000 yen.”

“45,000,” he quips instead.

“70,000.”

“50,000.”

“60,000,” you watch his eyes squint, considering it. He nods, “Fine.”

You watch as he knocks off the veil, letting it slowly fall to the ground before wrapping his fist around himself. The size of his hand makes him seem small. He shudders, his hands feeling like ice against his cock as he waits. It calls for confusion from the both of you as he waits expectantly. “You can continue.”

“Continue what?” He finds your moment of idiocy to be adorable, making him chuckle once more, “Continue waxing me.”

“That’s unsanitary,” you start. “You could possibly start bleeding and I—”

“This entire situation is unprofessional and I could have your license revoked,” he finishes for you. “Would you prefer that instead? Don’t worry, if I bleed, I won’t report you, love.”

You slouch forward, reaching for another strip and trying to continue as if your client isn’t palming at his cock as you try to maneuver around him. Your hands start to shake as his fist moves up and down. He’d stop ever so often to rub over his tip, smearing the precum around it. So copious as he causes his length to glisten. 

You don’t like how you feel yourself growing aroused, clenching around nothing as you wonder what he’d feel like inside of you. And he finds your squirming to be adorable as you try desperately to keep yourself together as you rip hair from his skin. You could’ve finished a long time ago, but you’ve come to enjoy watching this. You won’t admit it, but you find it intriguing how a man finds pleasure in pain and there’s a boost of confidence within you knowing that you’re the one inflicting it. 

There are points in time where Toji would stop, feeling himself close to releasing. His hands would be back to the base of his length as you’d pull another strip. It wasn’t until you were on your last spot that he finally decided to let go. His balls would slap against his fist every time it came down and the wetness of himself jerking off while he was being waxed sounded the room. He wondered if your coworker could hear and he wondered that, if he did, what was stopping him from interfering?

And the possibilities that coursed through his mind only egged on his impending orgasm. Your touch rivalled between rough and soft. When your glove-clad hands gently rested against his thigh before the next hand pulled at the wax strip, it was all that it took for him to release. 

Your gasp was high-pitched, the feeling of cum hitting your spray as Toji’s head hit the bed in relief. He didn’t care, simply continued to aim for your pretty little face and you let it happen. Again, a next set of knocking came to the door. Geto, again. “(Y/N), are you sure you’re alright?”

You didn’t want to sound annoyed, knowing that he was only looking out for you and your well being, but you did remember telling him that you would be fine. “I’m alright! I just nearly burnt myself.”

“Shit,” you can hear from the otherside, a set of keys following that sent your heart racing. “Do you need help? Is it bad?”

“No,” you answer. You’d feel embarrassed to have him walk in on you in this current predicament, and it’d go against protocol. “I said nearly. I’m alright.”

Checking the time, it’s almost been an hour. With a sigh, you just want Geto gone. “Look, I understand why you’re staying late and I appreciate it, but I really am fine. Just go home. If I need help, I’ll call this time, okay?”

When he doesn’t answer, you ask again. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he sighs. “Have a good night.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When there’s silence, your older client chuckles. “You should've run him off a long time ago.”

You don’t answer him, watching as he comes to sit up before you place a hand against his chest. Your heart starts racing as you take into consideration what you’re about to do. “Wait—” despite his release, you can still see it. He’s still hard. Pulling off your gloves and aiming them towards the trash, your fingertips graze his shaft. “—Let me…”

You don’t have to say anything more before he gives you the okay and he’s leaning right back into position. The corner of his mouth, where his scar is, twitches upward. Looking down at you like this, he finds you so pretty like this. This young esthetician’s face was covered in his seed, and now she’s offering herself up to continue on the session. He’s never gotten to experience this, quickly believing he’s found himself a keeper. 

You reach for the hand that was previously connected to his cock, noticing the droplets of cum still staining them. You’ve become bold in the timespan, holding eye contact when your mouth opens and your tongue lulls out to clean off his fingers. Plump lips wrapping around the digits and suckling on them until the only thing that’s coating them is your saliva. When they’re nice and clean, you’re dipping to his length. 

Your dominant hand takes hold of it, your heartbeat picking up as you’re still incredulous to the sheer size of him. You pause, taking in a deep inhale before your mouth opens once more. You can still smell the stench of wax, the years of working making it ingrained in your senses that it nearly overpowers any bad body odor. Toji watches how your lips wrap around his thick cockhead, how your eyelashes flutter upwards to look at him. 

To think that the previous night, you were trying to ship him off to that long-haired brooding esthetician and now, that fear is leaving you to the point where you offered yourself up to him. He feels triumphant as he feels arousal leak through his tip once more, but this time, on your tongue. “I bet that pretty pussy of yours is all wet.”

He’s right. Your panties cling to your pussy, a wet patch well formed from the past hour and only worsening now that your lips are around his cock. His hand reaches to caress your face before it travels to the back of your head. Your hair combed into one, he grips at the band and forces you to take more of him. He lets out a breath, “Saw the way your cute body was squirming around watching me. All you young girls are just sluts nowadays, I swear. You’re the only one who holds no shame in it.”

He pushes your head down until your lips are at the base, the head of his cock, hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. The corner of your eyes prick with tears before he’s pulling you off and giving you a chance to catch your breath. 

“Ah,” he tsks. “Seems like I gotta train your throat to handle me. You’ll take down that stupid rule of yours, right? Just for me?”

You nod, inhaling deeply as your chest rises and falls. Toji chuckles. “Good girl. I’ll probably have to train that pussy, too, it seems— wrap your hand around the base.”

It’s so seamless how he goes to throw commands at you, and it should be embarrassing how obedient you’ve become. Doing as told, you don’t waste a second to wrap your mouth around him once more. However, he takes all control and fucking your mouth like you’re just a toy for him. 

You’re grateful that Geto left, not wanting him to hear what’s happening behind closed doors and how you’ve gotten yourself in this predicament. The man’s cum has long dried up on your face, but fuck, he’s imagining the possibility of making it messier. This time he has his imagination running rampant as he uses your mouth to get off. And you’re imagining the possibility of him filling you up, spurting his load in you as you let this old man take advantage of your body. 

His veins protrude, blue highlighting his skin in lines as he uses his strength to use you. Weakly, his hips rise to meet your lips as he’s enveloped by your wet warmth. This orgasm is all too quick to approach him and he has no intention to stop, feeling how your grip has tightened around the base. 

“Fuck,” his voice is guttural and raspy. “Gonna cum in your mouth, and you’re gonna swallow, right?”

You mumble around his length, but that short nod is all he needs. The vibrations sent waves through him and called for his release. You feel the way his cock twitches inside your mouth before tasting the salted seed kiss the back of your throat. And just like he asked, you’re swallowing him as you feel his grip on you weaken before finally letting go.

Gradually, you remove yourself from him and catch your breath, your chest rising and falling in a rushed rhythm. When the both of you have cleaned yourselves up, you leave together. Though, when Toji goes to walk you to your car, he squeezes your ass before holding the door open for you and leaning to whisper in your ear, “That pussy will be the next thing I claim the next time we meet, alright?”

Nodding, you whisper out a ‘yes.’

Bidding you a good night, Toji leaves you to your lonesome. When you get home, you make a small change to your rules.

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[fanbasetwo]

Ꮺ . , THROUGH UPS & DOWNS , L.CY !

PAIRING: bf ! anton × gf ! afab reader. SYNOPSIS: you always managed to pull yourself up out of breakdowns or sadder parts of life but you never once imagined someone creating a fuss to take care of you through your downs. [REQUESTED] . . . . . . GENRE: #comfort core, fic. WORD COUNT: 1k [LIBRARY]

You and Anton have been together for years, long enough to trust him with everything—well, almost everything. Moving in together felt right at the time, but lately, you’ve been questioning whether that was a mistake. Some days are good, some are bad, but the worst ones? The ones like today? Those are the hardest because you don’t even have the energy to pretend you’re okay.

Maybe it’s the fact that no matter how many job applications you send, no one seems to want you. Maybe it’s that sinking feeling that you’re not just struggling—you’re a burden. No, scratch that. You are a burden. Full stop.

Still, you push yourself to keep going. Just one foot in front of the other. You grip the door handle, take a shaky breath, and step inside.

Anton is there, standing in the middle of the living room like he’s been waiting for you. His face lights up when he sees you, but that stupidly proud smile of his only makes everything worse. How the hell can he still look at you like that when you’re contributing nothing?

“Hey…” His voice is soft, but his brows pinch together in concern. “You look—uh, kind of out of it. You okay?”

And that’s it. That’s the last fucking straw.

Your bag slips from your fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud as you practically throw yourself at him. Your arms wrap around his torso, your face burying into his chest as the sobs hit you full force. Ugly, shaking, can’t-breathe kind of crying.

Anton doesn’t even flinch. No awkward hesitation, no stiff pat on the back like he’s comforting a coworker or some shit. His arms immediately close around you, holding you tight like he’s physically trying to keep you from falling apart.

“Hey, hey… Shh, I got you,” he soothes, rubbing slow circles into your back. “It’s okay. I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

You want to believe him. You really do. But all you can focus on is how your breathing is coming in short, shaky bursts, how your fingers are gripping his shirt like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground.

What fcks you up the most, though? The fact that he doesn’t care. Not in a bad way, but in a way that makes your chest ache. You’re standing here, falling apart—messy, broken, so not okay—and yet, he’s holding you like you’re still worth something. Like he’d do this a thousand times over if it meant you didn’t have to go through it alone.

And maybe… just maybe… that’s enough for now.

“C’mere, let’s sit and talk, yeah? Nothing’s wrong, especially when I’m here.”

Anton doesn’t wait for you to agree—he just scoops you up like you weigh nothing, and you cling to him like a damn koala, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. He settles onto the couch, pulling you onto his lap, but before you can bury yourself back into his chest, he gently tilts your face up, wiping away your tears with his thumb. Not that it does much, since they just keep coming.

You sniffle, taking a shaky breath. “I can’t find a job… And I don’t want to stay financially dependent on you. I don’t want to be a burden. Everybody’s so mean. Jiah won’t even talk to me anymore because she thinks it’s embarrassing to be seen with me.” Your voice cracks, but you force the words out anyway. “Are you… Are you embarrassed of me too?”

For a moment, he just looks at you, his hands steady on your waist, his eyes soft but serious. And then, instead of answering, he leans in and kisses you. Slow, deep, like he’s trying to get you to shut up in the most effective way possible. His lips move against yours in a way that makes your heart stumble in your chest, and when he finally pulls back, you’re breathless and blinking at him like an idiot.

Anton smirks a little, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “First of all,” he starts, his voice firm but warm, “just because you aren’t getting a job right now doesn’t mean you’re dumb. It just means there aren’t enough of them. That’s not your fault. Second, you are not a burden to me. But since I know how much this is bothering you, why don’t you look for something temporary? Editing, content writing—there are tons of online jobs that could work until you figure out what you really want to do.”

He pauses, letting that sink in before he continues. “And Jiah? That’s her problem, not yours. She should be embarrassed of herself for acting like that. I’m just proud that my baby spoke up about it.”

It’s a lot. A mix of advice, comfort, and pure tonie logic, but somehow, it actually helps. You feel… lighter. Like maybe the weight on your chest isn’t crushing you as much.

And just when you think you couldn’t feel more relieved, he adds, “Besides, I’m gonna marry you anyway, whether you’re ‘successful’ or not, no matter what other people think.”

You blink at him. “Wait, what?”

Anton just grins, pressing a kiss to the top of your head like he didn’t just casually say something that could actually give you a mini heart attack. “You heard me.”

Your heart is a mess—pounding, fluttering, tripping over itself—but his hands are steady as he cups your face, wiping away the lingering tears with his thumbs. His touch is so gentle, it makes your chest ache in a different way.

“Does it feel better now?” he murmurs. “Now you know… sharing is way better than keeping it all bottled up?”

You sigh, letting your head rest against his chest, listening to the steady, calming rhythm of his heartbeat. “Yeah,” you admit, voice quiet but honest. “I think… I think I’ll share every time I feel sad from now on.”

Anton hums, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You better,” he mutters. “Because I’ll always be here for my pretty girl.”

He tightens his arms around you, rocking you gently like it’s the easiest thing in the world to hold you together when you feel like falling apart. And for the first time in a while, you actually believe it.

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SENA’S NOTE : this is the second and third idea mixed together and might not have been a perfect execution of the request.. but I believe it's still better than posting nothing.. so thank you for requesting. ;0;

© 2025 all rights reserved to fanbasetwo !

[ivoyzzz]

for cheol

synopsis: you work at the childrens home where Cheol lives and he takes a liking to you going as far as introducing you to his sister. what happens when the stoic girl begins to see why her little brother likes you so much?

warnings: mention of kids picking on Cheol.

a/n: thought this was so cute bc they deserve happiness !! also … are for your name!!

saebyeok liked routine. she would pick-pocket all day and then she would go see cheol. she didn’t let people into her life, she was okay with the way things were. just her and cheol.

it was like everyday. saebyeok pick-pocketed then walked to the children’s home cheol lived. she checked in then sat away from all the other kids waiting for cheol. she had expected cheol to walk out happy to see her but not as happy as a child his age should be. what she hadn’t expect was for cheol to walk out dragging a girl out.

saebyeok immediately tensed up when she saw cheol walk out with some girl who worked at the children’s home. cheol had a smile on his face as he held onto your wrist and walked over to saebyeok. “noona, remeber i told you about her.” cheol said smiling happy to introduce you to his sister.

when you agreed that you would meet cheol’s infamous sister you weren’t really expecting her. the way cheol described her and insisted that you become friends with her, you weren’t expecting a tall girl who glared at you not even giving you a half smile.

“noona, this is miss … , she teaches us games and how to draw.” cheol said smiling. saebyeok looked over you, her gaze making you feel like your tiniest movements were being judged by the stoic girl. you smiled softly at saebyeok at saebyeok and she gave you nothing but a small hum.

“i’ll let you talk with your sister. nice to meet you.” you say giving them both a small wave and walking back inside the children’s home. saebyeok’s gaze follows you back inside, then she looks back at cheol sensing this wasn’t the reaction he wanted. saebyeok ignores this focusing on the bandage on his chin. saebyeok mutters a small. “what happened?”

“i fell.” cheol answers a little too quickly. saebyeok looks at him tilting her head towards him wanting the truth. “i got pushed.” cheol sighs, but quickly adds. “the boy got in trouble by miss … , and she put the bandage on “ saebyeok eyebrows furrow, was cheol really so fond of you? the rest of the visit when on like normal cheol chatting her ear off and saebyeok asking questions.

the next visit, saebyeok checks in like normal and goes to the outside area where all the kids are. but instead of them playing like normal, your teaching them how to draw an animal. all are giggling and laughing as you make jokes about the duck your drawing. saebyeok takes notice of the way you easily make a child stop crying and put a smile on their face. she also takes notice of the way you spot her sitting and you walk over to cheol pointing to her with a smile of your face and he runs over to her. you send saebyeok a small wave which all you get in return is her barley there smile when she sees cheol.

saebyeok stops by everyday finding herself looking forward to her visits in more then one way. they go like normal you pointing towards her and cheol running towards her. you, like always wave and smile and she has started to give you a small and slight nod. maybe your making progress with her?

one night saebyeok goes to visit cheol before visiting hours are over. she walks into the office and instead of seeing the receptionist like normal she sees you sweeping the floor and cleaning a focused smile on your face. saebyeok stands there not knowing what to do, she hasn’t spoken a word to you ever. saebyeok settles on clearing her throat making you turn around smiling as you see her. “i’ll get cheol.”

when you come back with cheol, you give them their space sitting behind the desk and organizing one of the desk drawers. you can’t help but smile as you see saebyeoks face soften at the sight of her younger brother.

“hi noona.” cheol greets sitting next to saebyeok. saebyeok reaches over and ruffles his hair. “i drew you something.” cheol says softly pulling something out of his jacket pocket handing it to saebyeok. saebyeok takes it a rare smile on her face. she opens it and it’s a picture of her and cheol. “it’s really good.” saebyeok says softly to the boy. “thanks miss … helped me” cheol says proudly feeling a sense of pride after his sisters compliment. saebyeok looks over at you, where your seated at the desk. she can’t help but think feel a weary sense of confusion and content. she was confused as to what kind of person you were to kept cheol, a shy kid to open up to you. she was content that when she couldn’t there was someone who would look out for cheol.

after about 20 minutes you had walked cheol back into the building. when you walked back into the office you were surprised to see saebyeok still seated there. from what you had picked up about saebyeok she really wasn’t much of a talker so you kept the comfortable silence. “i wanted to thank you.” saebyeok muttered her sharp features moving to look at you.

”for what?” you said softly looking at saebyeok. even though saebyeok felt vulnerable in this moment your tone didn’t hold an ounce of a judgment. “for taking care of cheol.” she replied back her gaze on the wall.

“he’s a good kid, talks about you a lot. i’m happy to do it.” you say really looking at saebyeok. the way she made sure her face didn’t show what she was feeling. or maybe the way her eyes would flick over to you before returning them to the wall. “goodnight.” you smile softly as she stands up ready to leave. “night.” she says so very quietly and leaves with that.

your helping cheol tie his shoes. “..then you put this bunny over the other okay?” you say trying to put it in a way that would make sense. “that’s what my sister tried to tell me but i still don’t understand.” the little boy whines clearly getting upset that he doesn’t get it. “you can’t achieve something in one day if you want to be good at it. things take time and this is one of those things okay?” you say sitting down next to cheol. he sulks but nods and goes off to play again.

you then see saebyeok and instead of like normal calling cheol over to her you walk over instead. saebyeok looks at you as she sees you approach. her gaze is stoic but not uninviting. you take a cautious seat next to her leaving a good bit of distance between the two of you.

before you can say anything she begins. “Why are you always working?” saebyeok says looking at you with a genuine look of curiosity. there hasn’t been a time that’s she came and you haven’t been here. don’t you have off days? “I like working. i come in as often as i can.” you say with a small laugh.

“your good with kids.” saebyeok mutters her gaze on cheol happy to see him with kids his age playing and laughing. “my trick is to think like a kid.” you say raising your eyebrows with a smile. saebyeok glances at you before looking back at cheol. “cheol told me he introduced us so i could have a friend my own age.” you laugh shaking your head. cheol wasn’t clueless. you were a girl who never left her job and spent her whole day with kids, so of course your socializing skills weren’t the best. saebyeok was focused and didn’t like talking to people or people in general.

the corner of saebyeok’s lips turned upward for a second. cheol had always been a very observant kid. “what time do you get off of work tonight?” saebyeok asked causally her face not showing what was she was thinking. “i get off at 7 tonight.” you say not thinking much of it as cheol spots the both of you and walks over after finishing his game. “i’ll take you out to eat after you get off work tonight.” saebyeok said looking at you her face as stoic as ever. “okay.” you mumbled standing up not trusting yourself to say anything else. cheol ran over smiling, happy to see the both of you together.

saebyeok had convinced herself that she was doing this for cheol. cheol wanted you two to be friends and you had been good to cheol. this was nothing but a thank you and so cheol didn’t worry for her.

saebyeok waited outside the children’s home for you. you walked out spotting the girl waving and walking over to her. “where we going?” you asked smiling. “wherever you want.” she mumbled back. “there are some night markets with good food?” you shrugged to which she nodded falling in step with you.

“what do you do for work?” you asked looking up at her curiously. saebyeok of course wasn’t going to tell you that she stole for a living so she went with something simple. “i work at a cafe.” saebyeok muttered to which you nodded.

when you two arrived at the market you two had decided on a place that sells kimpap. you two took a seat at a small table. “i don’t really go out often so thank you.” you let out a small laugh. saebyeok likes the way you laugh, she’s never noticed the way a person laughed before. “me either.” she nods in agreement. “do you like art?” saebyeok mutters at you chewing her food. you look up at her with a smile. “when i was younger i wanted to be an artist.”

“do you still want to?” she follows up looking at you. “no, i like what i do. what about you, what is something you’d like to do?” saebyeok thought for a second. no one had ever really asked her questions about herself where she had to think about it. she settles for, “not really.”

an old woman walking by had dropped, her whole wallet. you saw this and picked it up standing up and handing it back to the woman with a smile. the old lady thanked you. “thank you, young ma’am. i don’t know what I would’ve done if i lost this“ the woman opens her wallet trying to hand you twenty thousand won. you shake your head not accepting the money. “it’s no problem keep your money have a good day.” you smile sitting back down.

saebyeok had watched this whole interaction in shock. if it had been her she would have pocketed the wallet. but you picked it up that thought not even crossing your mind and handed it back. then when the lady had tried to give you money you declined. you did everything saebyeok wouldn’t and it only made her more curious about you.

saebyeok lost in her thoughts picks around her food. you understood that saebyeok preferred not to talk and you were fine with silence. “that was nice.” saebyeok broke the quiet bubble around the two of you. you give her a soft smile shaking your head eating your food. “don’t give me too much credit.” saebyeok just stares at you, your not like anyone she’s ever met.

after you two finish eating and are walking back to both of your apartments. saebyeok realized you didn’t live far from her and decided to walk you home. you two walked close, arms brushing close. “i had a good time.” you say quietly. saebyeok mutters a small “me too.”

saebyeok’s previous mindset that this had only been for cheol had slowly begun to vanish. saebyeok felt the way your hands brushed every so often. the way that both of you seemed to gravitate closer to each other. it numbed her to everything else going on. saebyeok haven’t even realized it but she was slowly slipping her cold hand into yours. it felt like it was only the two of you right now, just walking down the street hand in hand. saebyeok didn’t look at you, but her hand was enough to confirm that maybe this wasn’t as friendly as cheol had intended. that maybe cheol played matchmaker. cheol had helped two girls who were each deserving of love find each other. and right now in this moment it was enough.

[smallestapplin]

A kiss for the road

Arthur Morgan x traveling doctor!Reader

Warnings : no TB au, fluff, talks of some minor injuries, playful banter, established relationship.

This was commissioned by @yanban-san !

-

-

The outlaw groans as he slowly rides into town, his horse taking a leisurely pace just so their rider doesn’t get jostled too much. Entering a familiar town was just what Arthur needed, he knew the right places to avoid attention. His shoulder aches, the cut on his cheek stopped oozing blood a while back, no doubt you’re going to be upset with him over that.

But you’re better than trying to patch it up at camp by himself.

Arthur told himself he wouldn’t fall, he’s not a good man, you deserve better than an outlaw like him, you deserve someone you could show off, someone you can go shopping with. He tsks at himself, so much for that plan. Snapping from his thoughts once his horse stopped moving, he found himself in front of a familiar little shop.

A traveling doctor, going from small town to small town to help people.

You’re too good for him. His blue eyes linger over your open sign showing him you must still be in your little traveling cart. The cowboy can’t stop the small smile from appearing on his face, knowing you aren’t going to be very pleased with him getting into more trouble, especially after you told him just a week ago to take it easy.

Well, he supposes it has its upsides.

Hopping off his horse, he ties her reins to the post near your open sign before he picks up the sign and flips it to ‘closed’, and just walks right in with no knocking. He spots you on the other side of the cart back turned to the door, fiddling around with tools he doesn’t quite remember the names of.

“Sorry, just one moment please. Terribly sorry about that, how can I-“ you pause mid sentence as your eyes lock onto your favorite cowboy, taking in the bruises over his cheeks, some hidden just beneath his shirt, he looks like a mess.

Arthur grabs his hat, taking it off and placing it over his chest.

“Sorry darlin’, it seems I got a few new wounds. Care to treat me, doc?”

Like his words snapped you from your thoughts as you rushed to him, gently grabbing his arms and moving him to take a seat. Oh Arthur knows he should feel bad about worrying, and he’d hate to admit it, but he finds himself enjoying your fretting, how you rush around grabbing things to clean and patch him up.

“Oh my god, Arthur! How many times do I have to tell you to be careful? Heaven and stars above you’re lucky you haven’t gotten any infections.”

He hisses under his breath, feeling you press antibacterial cleaner to his cheek. But he never takes his eyes off you, taking in your focused expression as you easily patch up his cheek.

You go to scold him more after you’re finished placing the bandage on his cheek, just for him to grab your wrist, carefully pulling you closer until your face is mere inches from his. Your cheeks burn at how close he is, but you can’t help but lean into him. Your hands on his shoulders balancing yourself as your lips finally meet his chapped ones, his hands move placing one on your lower back, and the other on your hip holding you close to him.

you’re surrounded by him, his warmth, his scent, god how you’ve missed him. your mind muddled even as he pulls his lips off yours, resting his forehead to yours.

“Am I forgiven, Doc?”

you blink once, twice, then several more times as you collect yourself, finally moving away from him to properly stand.

“I…suppose, but that depends if you have any more injuries.” You give him a pointed look with your hands on your hips.

“Now, why would you think I got any more wounds?” He feigns ignorance, a playful grin on his face as he watches you narrow your eyes at him in a playful return.

“Cause this is you we are talking about, Mr.Morgan. The second I let you leave this cart, you’ll have a new injury from lord knows where.”

He raises his hands up in mock surrender before he moves around, making sure his bad shoulder was the one facing you, his back now towards you while he places his hat next to him and unbuttoning his shirt, just enough to free his shoulder to show you. You want to scold him more as you take in the new injury, looking at how bruised his flesh is around the gash.

“How the hell did you manage that?”

Arthur tenses for a moment only to relax under your gentle touch, leaning against the warmth of your hand.

“Dumbest way possible, surely.”

You chuckle at his words as you begin to ready to clean the area.

“Oh, and how's that?”

“Finished a bounty, nice reward out of it too I can treat you after this. But, on the way back to camp some crazy jumped from the tree line and spooked my horse, threw me right off and well…there was a well placed rock right there.”

He can’t even see your face but he can hear you biting back your laughter. Arthur rolls his eyes.

“Yeah yeah laugh it up, infamous gunslinger lost a fight to a rock.”

You finally can’t hold back your snickers, trying not to laugh too hard so you can see what you’re doing. Arthur grits his teeth, feeling your gloved hands brushing across the gash, listening to you hum.

“Well, luckily for you this cut isn’t too bad, you’re free from needing stitches, but I need you to tak it easy, it won’t heal right if you lift too much or go on crazy missions, alright?”

“Oh darlin’ you worry too much.”

“Arthur, I’m serious, you could risk infection and the area getting worse.” You get some gauze, wrapping it around his shoulder to make sure it’s secure, “You’ll need to come back everyday until it’s closed so I can monitor it, okay?”

Arthur looks back to you, his eyes meeting your worried filled ones, how did he get so lucky? What did he do to deserve another chance at love? He didn’t know, but he knows he’s not going to let you slip away from him.

“Sweetheart, you know I’ll always come back to you, all that worryin’ ain’t good for ya.”

“I can’t help it, I love you too much, I alway worry about you.” You rest your head on his good shoulder, hands clinging to his shirt as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear.

“I love you too, sugar, now come ‘ere, how much do I owe ya?” He swivels around to face you while he fixes up his shirt.

“Really? Something tells me you just like getting kisses.” You chuckle, a bashful smile crossing your lips.

He’s such a gentleman for an outlaw, and ever the giving lover, how did you get so lucky?

“If it helps you stop worryin’ I’ll give you as many as you need.”

Can you blame him though? His sweetheart is his doctor, a damn good one too, all patchin’ him up and fretting over him? He’s surprised you can’t hear his heart racing with what you do to him.

[stervrucht]

No context WIP snippet

@419jhat tagged me, thank you!💕

“I don’t care if you’re naked, I’m coming in.”

The door swings open, bangs into the wall with a loud thud and the small dent there grows a little deeper.

“You jerking off in here?” Eddie asks. He’s grinning, hands on his hips. Behind him, Robin stands with the register drawer in her hand, ready to get it to the safe. 

“God, Eddie. Move.” She buds him aside with the swing of her hip and Eddie staggers. 

“Sorry. Got a little side-tracked.” Steve moves away from the washing machine. He’s pretty much dressed, save the laces of his shoes. He bends down to tie them while Eddie hoists himself on top of the counter. 

His feet swing above the floor. Always moving, Eddie can’t be still.

“So, Chopping Mall, huh?” Steve moves to his other shoe.

“Supposedly it’s super bad. Can’t wait. Wanna tag along, Buckley?” Eddie cranes his neck to see where Robin went behind the corner.

“Absolutely not,” her voice sounds, “I’ll be studying. You should give it a try.”

Eddie huffs, kicks his feet. “Some of us have social lives.”

Robin appears from behind the wall, hands empty. “Some of us want to graduate.”

“No one’s a bigger fan of graduating than I am.”

“That’s why you keep trying, huh?”

“Jesus. Fuck, just stick that knife between my ribs, will you?”  

Steve chuckles and Eddie sends him a dirty look. “Who’s team are you on anyway, Steve?”

“I’m very, very neutral.”

“Maybe you should neutrally pay for your own popcorn then.”

“Like I don’t pay anyway.”

Eddie pushes himself off the counter. His shoes make a hard smack when they hit the tiled floor. He wraps his arms around Steve’s neck from behind, hangs heavy, nearly choking.

“Getting wined and dined like I deserve.”

Robin gags. Smiles. “You two are gross. I’m gonna lock up front.”

She leaves and Eddie lets go of Steve’s neck. 

“Sometimes I wonder if she even likes me,” Eddie tells him. 

“Sometimes I wonder how anyone does.”

Eddie hits him. “You too? I’m getting fucking battered here.” Eddie straightens himself. Hands over his heart, he tilts his head, eyes big, dark and wide as he pouts. “I’ll win your heart, fair lady Harrington.”

---

No-pressure tags for @sleepy-steve, @runninriot @runraerun ✨

[kitkat13001]

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ modern!eren jaeger x reader

⤷ college au, athlete!eren, sick reader, brief mentions of vomit (vague, nondescriptive)

barring actual death, this week has been probably the worst of your life. 

you don’t think there’s anything more you could’ve done to prevent yourself from getting sick, but here you are, immobilized in bed like a dying victorian orphan. there’s only one upside to being this sick, and that’s when your boyfriend gets to wait on you hand and foot, coddling you until you feel even a little better. but eren isn’t here with you, he’s miles upon miles away for a big tournament.

distance hasn’t lessened his concern for you, apparent in the way he’s been calling you at least twice a day since you told him you were feeling under the weather. 

“no, babe, i’m like so sick right now,” you complain, congestion evident in your voice. 

“for real?”

“yeah, it’s so bad. and it’s not like a common cold or anything either, eren, this is the flu.”

“that bad?”

“i puked three times yesterday.”

you can practically hear his wince through the phone. “yikes.”

“yeah, so that’s me,” you sigh, “barfing and coughing and feverish. how are you holding up? having fun?”

“yeah, it’s been okay. we’re keeping our streak. i’m calling from the bus right now, actually.”

“oh, fun! tell the team hi for me.”

he hums his assent, but quickly turns the conversation back to you. “you want me to bring you anything back?”

“just your handsome self, preferably injury-free. miss you lots.”

“i’ll be back before you know it,” he promises. there’s some rustling on the line. 

“you just getting there?” you ask, sniffling into a tissue. 

“mhm. just gimme a second, baby.”

you hum patiently, eyes fluttering closed while you wait. 

“goddamn!” you jump when the door swings open, revealing eren standing in the doorway. his bags are in his arms and he’s still on the line, phone tucked between his shoulder and ear.  “you were right, babe, this place looks like shit. dishes on the nightstand and everything.”

he smiles and hangs up the phone while you lie in shock, scrambling to sit up and compose yourself. 

“when did you come in?!” you cry, “i didn’t even hear the door, my ears are so stuffed from my sinus plug-up. i thought you were on the bus to nationals!”

“i said i was on the bus, not on the bus to nationals,” eren corrects, grinning. “armin told me you were sick so i flew down to come take care of you.”

“but you’ll miss the big game!”

he waves a hand dismissively, blowing a raspberry. “it’s not for three days. plenty of time for me to hang out with you until you’re better. i’ll fly out the day before the game, directly to the city.”

“but what if you catch my virus?” you whine, pushing him away weakly. 

he smirks at your pitiful attempts. “i googled it. you’re not really contagious after the fifth day, so i’m aaaaallll yours~”

“erennn, you can’t risk it before your big game. what if—“

“shush, don’t worry so much. i’ll be careful, okay? lysol everything you touch.”

“everything? twice? you better promise.”

he holds his hand up in a mocking oath. “i swear. i’ll be mike wazowski spraying himself in the eyeball in monsters inc.”

you give a weak giggle and immediately wince at the pain in your throat. 

eren makes himself comfortable at your bedside, holding up a steaming container. “y’want soup? picked it up on my way back.”

you stare at him through watery eyes. “let’s get married. deadass.”

he laughs, fishing out a plastic spoon from his bag. “maybe when you’re not bedridden with the flu. ‘kay, now say ‘ahhh’.”

wrote this last year when i had the most godawful flu known to man and finished it this year when i got sick 3 times in the span of a month n a half :)

[00valentina-writes00]

So…the lesbians of the last of us, hate the boat scene. For obvious Owen related reasons.

So I fixed that. Yes I’m on hiatus. Yes I needed to post this.

♡♥︎What’s Left of Us♥︎♡

Warnings: I fixed the boat scene, (hopefully it’s somewhat lore accurate (besides the fact you’re fucking Abby not Owen) I’m 85% sure I got it correct), fingering, a bit rough tbh

The boat rocks gently, the scent of salt and mildew clinging to the air. The only sound between you and Abby is the quiet lapping of water against the hull. It should be peaceful. But it’s not.

Because she’s pacing.

Because her fists are clenched.

Because the second you followed her into the cabin, the tension that had been hanging between you for months finally snapped.

“You keep looking at me like that,” Abby growls, running a hand over her face. She’s exhausted. But so are you. “Say it.”

You cross your arms over your chest, heart pounding. “You pushed me away.”

She scoffs, shaking her head, but you don’t stop.

“You fucking did, Abby,” you snap, stepping closer. “All you cared about was him. I stood by you, I tried—I begged you to see what this was doing to you. To us.”

“Don’t—”

“You shoved me out of your life,” you spit, voice cracking. “For Joel.”

Abby’s jaw tightens, muscles flexing beneath her sweat-slick skin. Her nostrils flare, but she doesn’t say a word.

And that pisses you off more than anything.

“You got what you wanted, right?” You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You hunted him down like a fucking animal. And now? Now you’re standing here acting like—”

Abby moves before you can finish, her hands grabbing your shoulders, shoving you back until your spine collides with the cabin door.

Your breath hitches, a gasp caught in your throat, and suddenly she’s there, pressing against you, her chest heaving, eyes wild.

“You think this is what I wanted?” she hisses, breath warm against your lips. “You think I chose to lose you?”

You swallow hard, nails digging into your palms. “You did, Abby,” you whisper. “You did.”

Something in her breaks.

And then she’s kissing you.

It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s punishment, all teeth and desperation, a way to pour out everything she can’t say with words. And the worst part?

You let her.

You kiss her back just as hard, just as hungry, because as much as you want to hate her, as much as you want to push her away, your body betrays you.

Your fingers tangle in her hair, pulling her closer, your nails raking down her back. Abby groans into your mouth, hands gripping your waist so tightly it’s almost painful.

“You were mine,” she mutters, breathless. “You are mine.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you shove her back toward the table, and she lets you. She wants you to.

You tear at her shirt, dragging it over her head, hands roaming over her sweat-slicked skin. She gasps when your nails scrape over her back, when you bite her shoulder hard enough to leave a mark.

Abby shoves her pants down, and you do the same, the sound of fabric hitting the floor lost in the rush of breath between you.

You spin her around, pushing her over the table. She braces herself, knuckles going white against the wood.

“Spread your legs,” you murmur.

She obeys.

You drag your fingers down her spine before reaching lower, running them through the wet heat between her thighs.

“Fuck, Abby,” you breathe, marveling at how drenched she is. “You wanted this.”

She doesn’t deny it. She can’t.

You slide two fingers inside her, slow and deep, savoring the way her muscles tighten around you. Abby shudders, her breath coming in sharp gasps as you set a steady rhythm, pumping your fingers in and out, curling them just right.

She grunts, her head dropping forward.

“You’re still mine,” you murmur against her skin, your thumb brushing her clit.

Abby’s legs shake, her breath hitching when you add a third finger, stretching her open, dragging out those broken, ragged moans she tries to swallow down.

“God,” she grits out, hips rocking back to meet your thrusts.

You fuck her harder, deeper, watching her break, watching her fall apart against the table.

“You’re gonna cum for me,” you whisper, teeth scraping her shoulder. “And when you do, I want you to remember—I’m the one who gets to have you like this.”

Abby moans, a desperate, raw sound, her body tensing as she spirals closer and closer to the edge.

“Say it,” you demand, fingers never slowing.

“Fuck,” she groans, hands gripping the table so hard her knuckles turn white. “I’m—I’m yours.”

And that’s all it takes.

Her body seizes, her thighs trembling, her breath shattering as she cums, slick coating your fingers, dripping down onto the wood below. You fuck her through it, refusing to let up until she begs, until her muscles twitch and her breath comes in stuttered gasps.

Then, finally, you let her go.

Later, you’re tangled together in the dark, your arm draped over her bare waist, your chest rising and falling in sync with hers.

Abby wakes with a sharp inhale.

She touches the mark on her neck, where the rope had burned her just days ago.

She turns her head, looking at you.

Her eyes are softer now.

But the damage is still there.

This changes nothing.

[zwombiekochan341]

♡ YANDERE SUGURU GETO & YANDERE SATORU GOJO FIGHTING OVER YOU ♡

- Obsession & Rivalry -

Both Gojo and Geto fall hard for you, but their ways of expressing love are very different.

Gojo is openly possessive—he constantly flirts, invades your space, and makes it clear that he’s the only one you need.

Geto, on the other hand, is quietly obsessive—he watches you closely, subtly manipulating situations so that you rely on him.

They both see each other as the biggest obstacle standing between them and having you all to themselves.

- How They Treat You -

Gojo: Smothers you with affection, constantly teasing, touching, and making sure you never forget he’s around.

“C’mon, why would you even look at him when you have me?”

Geto: Plays the long game, making you feel safe with him, subtly convincing you that he’s the only one who truly understands you.

“Gojo treats this like a joke, but I actually care about you. You know that, don’t you?”

- Manipulation & Mind Games -

Both of them are master manipulators, and they use their skills to turn you against the other.

Gojo: Makes you feel like Geto is too serious, too controlling, and that you’d have more fun if you stayed with him.

“Why do you wanna hang out with him? He’s so boring! I’m way more fun, don’t you think?”

Geto: Makes you feel like Gojo is reckless, unreliable, and doesn’t truly care about you the way he does.

“Gojo only wants you because he can’t stand losing. I, on the other hand… I love you.”

In the end, they both mess with your mind so much that you don’t know who to trust.

- Extreme Possessiveness & Control -

If you try to distance yourself from one of them, the other immediately takes advantage of the situation.

Gojo might sweep you away, teleporting you to some unknown place, just to prove you belong with him.

“Aww, you’re upset? Here, let’s go somewhere far away where it’s just the two of us~”

Geto might subtly manipulate your life, making it impossible to function without his help.

“I warned you about Gojo, didn’t I? He’s reckless. But I’ll protect you.”

- How Far Would They Go? -

If one of them tries to take you away, the other wouldn’t let it slide.

Gojo would act like it’s all a game—until Geto actually succeeds in keeping you away. Then, he’d get dead serious.

“Okay, Suguru, that’s cute and all, but you know you’re not keeping them away from me, right?”

Geto would act like he’s in control, but deep down, he knows Gojo is the only person who can match him.

“You’re powerful, Satoru, but you’re reckless. You don’t deserve them.”

They would fight over you, but their shared history and twisted bond make it complicated. Neither wants to kill the other outright, but if it comes down to you, neither is above doing whatever it takes.

- Kidnapping & Endgame -

At some point, one (or both) would decide that you need to be taken away for good.

If Gojo wins, he whisks you away somewhere completely isolated. You’ll have everything you want—except freedom.

“Relax, babe~ You don’t need him. You’ve got me, and I’m never letting you go.”

If Geto wins, he makes sure you’re completely dependent on him, keeping you in a place where no one—not even Gojo—can reach you.

“Now that you’re finally safe with me, you’ll understand… You belong to me.”

But no matter who wins, the other will never stop looking for you.

- True Horror: A Shared Possession -

If they somehow come to an agreement, things get even worse. Instead of fighting over you, they decide that you belong to both of them.

Gojo keeps things lighthearted, acting as if this is all a fun game, while Geto enforces the idea that resisting is pointless.

“See? Now there’s no need to fight~ You’re ours. Forever.”

[nameless-jamie]

Hi, I love your writing and I love that you post so frequently! Could you wrote a fic based on the scene in the finally in which Rupert tells West Ham's coqch to take Jamie out? Could be a separate story (maybe Y/N is Richmond's lawyer) and she finds out and wants to finish Rupert? Or in the P/A universe and Jamie teases her about being protective and caring about him after she stands up to Rupert?

Thanks!

Red Card

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes, angry Y/N, sexist joke from Rupert

A/N: I hope it's okay that I used your request for a Jamie Tartt x PA ff, I thought it fit so well. Thank you for the idea!

The energy in Nelson Road was electric. The stands were packed with Richmond fans, their chants echoing through the stadium as the team prepared for one of their toughest matches yet. The anticipation was palpable, the tension thick in the air, but none of it compared to the storm brewing inside her the moment she overheard Rupert Mannion’s words.

Y/N wasn’t even supposed to be standing on the sidelines during the match—technically, her job as Jamie Tartt’s personal assistant didn’t require her to be this close to the action. But after years of working with Jamie, she’d become part of Richmond’s inner circle, always hovering near the dugout with Roy, Beard, and Ted, ready to handle whatever ridiculous emergency Jamie threw at her.

But tonight? Tonight, she was glad she was there.

Because she overheard everything.

Standing just a few feet from West Ham’s technical area, she had no choice but to hear Rupert fucking Mannion—West Ham’s owner, snake, all-around waste of oxygen—lean toward his coach and murmur,

"Take Tartt out."

She had frozen, fingers tightening around the clipboard she had been holding.

"Hard. Do whatever it takes."

It was quiet. Calculated. Cruel.

Rupert’s voice was as smooth as it was poisonous, a quiet command given to West Ham’s coach, the kind of thing meant to be whispered in dark corners and carried out with no one the wiser. But she had heard it, and once she had, there was no way in hell she was going to let it slide.

It made something snap inside her.

Without thinking, she stormed across the grass, ignoring Roy’s “Oi, what the fuck are you doin’?” and Beard’s sharp “Y/N—don’t—”

She was already moving.

Marching straight up to him.

“Mister Mannion,” she said, voice saccharine-sweet with rage.

Rupert barely glanced at her. “Ah, Miss Y/L/N. Didn’t realize Jamie let his little assistant wander around unsupervised.”

She clenched her jaw. “I heard what you just said about Jamie.”

Rupert smirked. “Did you?”

“You told your coach to injure him.” Her voice was pure steel.

Rupert sighed, as if she were boring him. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Football is a physical sport.” He tilted his head, looking her over like she was some insignificant little thing he could swat away. “Though, I suppose you’d know all about being handled roughly. What’s Jamie got you doing these days? Fetching his water? Maybe warming his bed?”

Y/N lunged.

Her vision went red as she launched herself at him, fully prepared to end him right then and there.

Before she could so much as grab the smug bastard, two line refs yanked her back.

“Let me go—” she growled, twisting in their grip.

Roy and Ted were already jogging toward her, Roy looking absolutely thrilled and Ted looking like he was suppressing laughter.

One of the refs shook his head. “Sorry, miss, but you’re outta here.”

She stood beside Roy and Ted on the touchline, fuming, while the referee held up the red card like she was some kind of violent offender.

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Ted said, ever the peacemaker. “Now, I don’t wanna tell ya how to do your job, sir, but surely we can all agree that giving someone a red card when they aren’t technically a player is a little… excessive?”

“It’s the rules,” the ref said flatly.

“She doesn’t even play, mate!” Roy barked. “You can’t send her off!”

The ref shrugged. “Rules are rules.”

Roy, arms crossed, scowled so hard he looked ready to combust. “It’s a stupid fucking rule.”

“Stupid or not, she has to leave,” the ref insisted.

Y/N threw her arms in the air. “Oh, come on! I didn’t even do anything.”

The linesman coughed. “You tried to assault West Ham’s owner.”

“Tried being the keyword,” she snapped. “If you lot hadn’t held me back, I’d have succeeded.”

Rupert, still standing smugly nearby, let out a low chuckle. “My, my,” he said, voice dripping with condescension. “I didn’t realize Jamie’s assistant was so… passionate about her job.”

Y/N whirled back toward Rupert. “You’re a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a man,” she seethed.

Rupert only chuckled, waving his fingers at her like she was some little girl throwing a tantrum. “Run along now.”

The rage inside her burned.

“If anyone on West Ham lays a hand on Jamie, I swear to God, I will—”

Rupert tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “It looks an awful lot like you’re getting rather—” his lips curled into a smirk, “—emotionally involved with your client.”

The audacity of this man.

She felt the anger boiling in her chest, sharp and blinding, but before she could lunge, two line refs grabbed her arms, holding her back.

“Ohhh, I hate you,” she seethed.

Rupert just smiled, infuriatingly unbothered. “Careful now, boys. Wouldn’t want Jamie’s newest toy to get too scratched up before he inevitably trades her in for someone better.”

That was it. That was her breaking point.

She surged forward, only for the refs to tighten their grip, dragging her back toward the tunnel.

“LET ME AT HIM,” she yelled, legs kicking uselessly as she was forcibly removed.

“Jesus Christ,” Roy muttered, but there was unmistakable approval in his tone.

Ted just sighed. “Well, that went about as well as we could’ve hoped.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the way he dismissed her or the fact that she couldn’t do a damn thing about it, but she let the refs drag her off, still spitting curses as Roy followed them, arguing the whole way.

Jamie, standing on the pitch, barely caught the end of it—just enough to see his PA being forcibly escorted out, Roy yelling at the ref, and Y/N looking ready to kill someone.

He frowned. “What the fuck?”

Isaac, jogging up beside him, snorted. “Mate, Y/N just got a red card. She got sent off.”

“Right. And… why?” Jamie blinked. “She ain’t even a player.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got more fight in her than half of us,” Isaac muttered.

Sam, ever the optimist, said, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explana—”

“—Apparently she tried to murder Mr. Mannion,” Colin interrupted.

Jamie’s eyes widened. “Oh, fuckin' hell.”

Jamie found her in the locker room after the game, sitting on one of the benches with her arms crossed, scowling at the floor.

She barely glanced up as he walked in.

He leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, smirking. “So.”

She huffed. “So.”

He tilted his head. “Wanna tell me why my personal assistant got sent off the pitch? ’Cause, I gotta say, love, that’s a new one—even for you.”

Y/N exhaled sharply. “Rupert told his coach to target you. To hurt you.”

Jamie felt something twist in his stomach. He wasn’t surprised—not really—but hearing it from her, hearing how angry she was about it…

It did something to him.

Before he could respond, she turned to face him fully, eyes blazing. “And then that prick had the audacity to say some sexist bullshit about me, and I—” She clenched her fists. “I snapped.”

Jamie smirked. “You snapped.”

“Yes.”

“And got dragged off the pitch.”

“Yes.”

“And got a red card even though you don’t play football.”

She groaned, rubbing her face. “Yes.”

Jamie couldn’t help it—he laughed.

Y/N shot him a glare. “Jamie.”

“Nah, nah, I’m just—” He shook his head, grinning. “You got sent off tryin’ to protect me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s definitely a thing.” A really sexy thing. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Admit it. You care about me.”

She scoffed. “Of course, I care about you. You’re my job.”

Jamie smirked. “And?”

“And nothing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

Jamie leaned in, voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “You sure sure?”

Y/N shoved him. “Shut up, Jamie.”

He laughed, stepping back. “Alright, alright.” He crossed his arms, eyes still bright with amusement. “But just so you know—next time, if you’re gonna get sent off, at least make it worth it.”

She huffed. “Oh, trust me. Next time, I’m throwing a punch.”

Jamie grinned. “Now that, love, I’d pay to see.”

And even though he teased her for it—because of course he would—he couldn’t help but feel something warm settle in his chest.

Because she had fought for him.

[supernotnatural2005]

Headcanon: Comforting you after a loss.

Pairing: Dean x reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Warnings/Tags: Mentions of loss, angst, fluff, established relationships

AN: This is just a little something for @jackles010378, I'm sorry you're going through a difficult time, and hope this cheers you up some ❤️

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester

Dean isn’t great with words when it comes to grief—he knows there’s nothing he can say to take your pain away.

But he’s damn sure not going to let you go through it alone.

The moment he sees the heartbreak in your eyes, he'll pull you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he'll murmur, pressing a lingering kiss to your crown.

He would stay like that for as long as you needed, grounding you in his warmth, his security.

In the following days, he would watch over you like a hawk—not smothering, but making sure you’re eating, drinking, and not shutting down completely.

He’ll cook you your favourite food, even run in to town to get you your favourite cheeseburger if that's what you wanted.

If you can’t sleep, neither does he. He’ll stay up, letting you rest against him, running his fingers through your hair until it finally lulled you to sleep

And when the grief feels unbearable, when you finally break down in front of him, he'll just hold you, whispering soft reassurances.

“You don’t have to be strong for me, baby. Just let it out. I’m right here.”

He never rushes your healing, never tries to fix what can’t be fixed—he just loves you through it, in the way only Dean Winchester can.

Beau Arlen

Beau doesn’t pretend to have all the answers, but he knows one thing for sure—you’re his, and he’s not going to let you go through this alone.

The first thing he does is hold you.

Not just some half-hearted hug—no, he wraps you up in his arms, pressing slow, lingering kisses to your temple, your cheek, your forehead.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he'll murmur, his voice thick with emotion. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

He checks on you constantly—bringing you coffee, making sure you eat, running his fingers over your back in soothing circles when you can’t bring yourself to get out of bed.

And when the silence in the house feels too heavy, he takes you on a drive—windows down, his hand resting over yours on the gearshift.

“Just us, baby,” he says softly. “Breathe.”

At night, when the weight of your grief is too much, he pulls you onto his lap, cradling you against him.

“I wish I could take this pain away from you,” he admits, pressing his lips against your shoulder. “But I’ll carry as much of it as I can, darlin’.”

He'll hold you for as long as you need, whispering sweet reassurances between soft, lingering kisses, letting you cry into his chest if that’s what you need.

Beau Arlen isn’t just your man—he’s your safe place, and he’ll spend every day reminding you of that.

Soldier Boy/Ben

Gif by @becauseofthebowties

Ben doesn’t do emotions. Not really.

He’s spent decades brushing off pain, cracking jokes, and punching his way through problems.

People cry? He rolls his eyes. People break down? He walks the other way. That’s just how he is.

But you? You’re different.

When he sees you hurting, something inside him tightens, and for once, he doesn’t have some snarky comment locked and loaded.

Instead, he stands there, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, unsure of what the hell he’s supposed to do.

At first, he tries to be himself about it—gruff, no-nonsense.

“Hey, shit happens. People die, the world keeps turning.”

But when you don’t react, when you just sit there looking so damn lost, he feels something foreign creeping in. Worry.

So, he does the only thing he can think of—he pulls you into his arms, tight, unyielding. His grip is almost bruising, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. 

“I got you, baby,” he mutters against your hair, his voice rough but lacking its usual edge. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

He’s awkward about it—comfort isn’t his thing—but for you, he tries.

He sticks close, hovering even when he pretends he’s not. He won’t outright ask if you’re okay, but suddenly, he’s around more.

Sitting next to you, brushing his fingers against yours, silently daring you to take his hand.

When the grief finally crashes over you, when you collapse against him in sobs, he stiffens at first—old instincts screaming at him to run.

But then he melts, wrapping you up in his arms, pressing rough kisses to the top of your head.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he mutters, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. "I got you.”

That night, he doesn’t leave your side. He pulls you into his chest, holds you close, fingers tangled in your hair.

“You’re not alone, doll,” he whispers, voice raw. “Not anymore.”

And maybe he’s never said those words before, but for once, he means every damn one of them.

AN: Okay so this was a new one for me. A first try at Headcanon's 😅 I hope I've done it justice and cheered you up a little @jackles010378 ❤️

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy/Ben Tag List:

@happyfxckinghorrors @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @bettystonewell @nancymcl @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @paganvamp @deans-baby-momma @ladykitana90 @riteofpassage77 @jackles010378 @spnaquakindgdom