#like just to soften the ego a bit more

[almondpiglet]

u could draw a character i hate withh all the rage in my heart and i would start to love them bc ur art is just that good ohmygosh

whaaaat thank youu very much!! thats a pretty huge compliment!!! :)

now i cant help but guess the character ...is this about toichiro ....this is about toichiro isnt it lolol

[gojosprettyprincess]

CRY, BABY!!

Tw - Dacrycilia, creampie, he's a lil tease, praise n degradation, Not proofread. This was supposed to be for kinktoberr!

Kinktober List ԅ(°Д°ԅ)

You and Satoru are an experimental couple when it comes to intervening and accommodating each other's sexual desires. So needlessly to say, the two of you have fucked and tried out a lot of different kinks/fetishes especially when it comes to exploring sex positions.

One night he'd be standing on the floor, the warmth of his strong hands kneading into the soft curves of your ass—his big muscular arms supporting your weight and holding you up effortlessly as you wrapped your legs securely around his waist, your soft breast comfortably pressed against his broad chest as your arms entwined around his neck, hanging on for dear life as he slams you down on his lengthy cock, stuffing your hole to the brim of him until you could feel every inch of his length stretching your pussy open, just for him to lift you back up like lightweight—repeating the cycle till your cum is dripping down his balls and pooling onto the floor.

You’d get cross-eyed and make a disgusting dripping mess all over him. just the thought of him being so strong to support your weight for so long and effortlessly treating your body as if you were a little sexdoll—his little doll and fucked you absolutely stupid made your mind hazy. His biceps and back muscles flexing against your palms, motivating you even more to mark up the strongest—to make all the dumb little bitches that think they have a chance with him know who he already belongs to you.

Another night he'd have you face down, ass up in a disorderly arch he manhandled you in, your soaked panties lazily pulled to the side of your cheek, using it as cleavage to pull you back onto his cock—accommodating his pace and adjusting to his rhythm as he delved deeper into your tight warm pussy. The air filled with desire and lust as he continuously pounds it into you in a brutal manner, your ass rippled against his pelvis as they met together—making his cock penetrate deeper into your velvet walls. He mutters a low “fuck” under his breath, as his eyes locked onto the movement of your back dimples flexing because of the brutal arch as both of your moans fill the air.

But Satoru’s all-time favorite position to ruin you in, will always be missionary just for the sole purpose of mocking and making fun of you—verbally bullying his adorable little girlfriend for crying and leaking tears on his fat cock while he’s purposely abusing your hole, stretching your tight entrance open to snug his cock into you. Your pathetic tears and vulnerability just fuels him to keep going and fuck even more tears out of you.

“Fuckkk—you like this thick cock splitting this tight little pussy open? Hmm? ” He questioned with hints of mischievous teasing laced in his tone. An amused look plastered on his handsome face as he smirks smugly. Blue eyes pierced, filled with a mixture of amusement and superiority, gazing down at your messed-up ruined face. Streams of what looks like black tears? Cascaded down your face, resulting from the ruined remnants of your expensive mascara running down the side of your softened cheeks as your features distorts in pure pleasure from his treatment.

“Mmm! Oh—fuck ahh” you bit your lips and close your eyes shut as your pussy opened up for him.

The thought of him being the reason for your vulnerability—seeing his little girlfriend leaking droplets of tears from his cock alone, drove him so fucking crazy. It makes him proud. It's Gojo fucking Satoru, it boosts his ego.

“Awww are you crying, sweetheart?” He mocks, in a particular way that makes him seem like he was trying to sound sympathetic but also obvious that he was making fun of you. He fucking loves belittling you like this so fucking much. He knows you’re way too far gone and fucked out stupid by his bullying and rough treatment to give him a proper response other than your uncontrollable moaning. Your pathetic crying and loud whimpers that he fucks out of you says a lot already, so he doesn’t expect one anyways.

The poor bed creaks and shudders loudly against the wall as he passionately fucks himself into your aching, drooling pussy like a crazy possessed motherfucker.

Heavy wet balls thwacking against your slippery asshole that’s coated in a thin layer slick from your arousal every time he thrusts his unrelenting hips into you. His pace was so fucking animalistic, it’s as if his one and only goal was to break and abuse your poor pussy. His cock was stretching your little cunt open so deliciously, the sensation overwhelming your senses with an intoxicating mix of pleasure and desire that you couldn’t stop moaning and babbling noncoherent words that you don’t even think existed. Each powerful, hard thrust brought waves of carnal pleasure, making you completely lost in his crazy primal act. You’re sure as hell glad you bagged yourself a wealthy man who owns a mansion because if it was some normal apartment, there's no way you two wouldn't get noise complaints from your neighbors hearing the loud pounding of the headboard knocking against the walls, along with your fucked out moans and his filthy mouth.

“Hah—Such a goodd girl, is my cock making you cry like this?, Awww I’m sooo sorry sweetheart” he feigned, it’s so damn ironic how he’s “apologizing” yet his questionable actions showed no effort in dissenting what he was apologizing for. His twisted satisfaction at your distress was palpable, matter a fact you could swear you felt his cock hitting harder and harder against your bruised cervix, his tip hitting every single sensitive spot inside of you vehemently.

He let out a vocal moan when he felt your warm walls clenching tighter around his long veiny cock, your hole seizing around him snugly as he continues forcing it in and out, not letting your tightness prevent him from bullying your insides, Causing your back to arch which give him a better angle to fuck his cock deeper into your stubborn walls. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this baby, hahh-shit don't stop sweetheart—keep fucking crying for me” he moans out laughing, you hiss as you felt your thighs aching from being wrapped around his waist so tight–trapping him in. You felt so dizzy—hazed with pleasure as drool escapes your mouth, making him chuckle.

He bites his lip when he feels your cunt fluttering around him nonstop—he already grasp the hint that you're about to cum, even without you telling him.

“Fuck sweetheart, you gonna cum? Gonna make a mess all over this cock? Come on do it, babe, this dick is all fucking yours” he groans, snaking a hand down to rub fast circles on your throbbing clit. He lets out a low “fuck” when he felt how wet and socked you were down there. Your slick dripping down your asshole and onto his expensive sheets—ruining it. If it wasn’t for his blindfold, you would’ve definitely been 100% sure that his eyes were rolling back to his skull.

“Holy shittt— look at this slutty little pussy crying out for me, she’s just like you baby. Such a little crybaby” he laughed through a breathy moan. His hips now fucking into you at a disparated pace as he loses his mind inside your gushing pussy. His jaw falls slack as he continues fucking the both of you towards your horny orgasms. “Fuckk you know what? let’s cum together baby, fucking cum with me” he hissed, sticking his tongue out to lick the pathetic salty tears dripping down your cheeks. Your eyes roll back when you felt his cock twitching and throbbing inside of you as if it’s trying to communicate with your pussy.

He pressed his sticky sweat-covered forehead against yours, his hot minty breath fanning in your face. “Fuckk-hah-shit, are you ready sweetheart, m’gonna cum fuckfuckfuck” the two of you moaned desperately in unison. Your manicured nails dug deep into his toned biceps as cum spurts out of his throbbing dick as your cream smeared over all his cock. His eyes rolled back as he continues mixing your releases together, drips of God knows whose cum drips out of your pussy every time he attempts to fuck it deeper and deeper inside of you.

“Attaa girlll” he praises—painting, out of breath. His body collapses onto yours as heavy breathing fills your ears. His cock still buried deep deep into your soaked pussy. The amount of times you and Satoru fucked in this position was incalculable, maybe it’s because it’s the position he had you in the first time he fucked you— or maybe it’s because he’s such a teasing bully who loves to make fun of you, right in front of your face.

[hxney-lemcn]

Jealousy is a Bitter Look — Overblots x gn! reader

summery: how the overblots react to being jealous (some are a bit more jealous than others, but they all have their moment).

tw: unhealthy attachments (Malleus, but he's working on it). ngl this shows a bit of their flaws so its not complete fluff and a bit of a character study.

a/n: so I can't make a fluffy/cute jealous fic cus I find jealousy an emotion to work on? Like its not terrible to be jealous, it happens to the best of us, I just don't wanna romanticize it? 'Cus if left unchecked it can lead to toxic relationships so that's why I wrote this in a more uplifting manner (?). Idk, I'm weird ik.

wc: 1.5k (~200 per character)

Master List

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle tried not to get jealous. He trusted you wholly. But sometimes his insecurities got the best of him. Cater was more affectionate, did you wish he were more affectionate like that? Trey was kind, did you wish he would give you more? Ace and Deuce were stupid, but it was undeniable how well you got along, did you wish he were more carefree? Those feelings would tug at his heart, but it was something he needed to work on himself, it wasn’t your problem. That’s what he kept repeating in his mind as he watched you have fun with your friends. Lips downturned hidden behind a teacup, ocean grey eyes sharply watching the scene before him. He thought he was hiding it better, but it was clear to you with how he pouted. Excusing yourself from Ace and Deuce, you made your way to the ruby haired housewarden. Riddle greeted you, eyes softening and frown lifting slightly. You tell him that he could’ve just told you if he was jealous. Unlike some, he won’t deny it fully, instead explaining his reasoning. Work on it with him, reassure him that you like him for him. If you wanted someone else, you wouldn’t be with him, and he takes that to heart.

❥ Leona Kingscholar

Jealousy is Leona’s middle name. After everything he’s been through, constantly being in second place, never getting what he truly wants…he feels like having you will slip through his fingers as well. Being with you, creating all those happy memories…it scares him. That one day you’ll find someone better and all he’ll have left of you are memories. So yes, he does get jealous, quite easily, and he masks it with his ego. He’s the best, don’t look at anyone else, he’s a prince, why would you settle for less? It’s quite clear that he’s jealous, his tail flicking, ears twitching, the sharp glare. When you confront him he won’t tell you the full truth, that’s a step too far at the moment. Be gentle with him, if someone flirts with you, tell them you have a boyfriend. Leona gets this smug smile and a warmth in his chest. As much as he won’t hesitate to claim you if someone won’t stop their advances, he loves it when you claim him. After all, it shows how much you care for him, how much you want him, and even the big bad lion needs a bit of reassurance.

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

He’s actually quite similar to Leona in this regard. Azul was bullied when he was younger, which led him to having an inferiority complex about almost everything. He is bad at hiding it as well, clearly needing to be reassured that he was doing well and he was a good partner. It was just hard for him to comprehend that someone as amazing as you was actually with someone like him. He loves you so intensely, he can’t help but let his insecurities get the best of him sometimes. He thinks you’d hate his mer form or that someone that could offer you more will swoop you away from him. He wouldn’t even blame you, he’d just be hurt he couldn’t do more for you. (He’s thinking all this even though he would and could offer you the world if you asked). When someone is trying to flirt with you outright he’s trying to mask his insecurity with his suaveness, asking if the person needs anything and if you're uncomfortable he leaves in a small threat about Floyd not being in a good mood (if you’re really uncomfortable he might use Jade as the threat instead). Azul checks in on you, but if you're smiling he might die a bit. Please just reassure him that you only have eyes for him.

❥ Jamil Viper

Unlike Leona and Azul, Jamil doesn’t get that jealous or has an inferiority complex. No. Instead, he knows you wouldn’t go behind his back, after all, you managed to become his partner and that’s a feat in itself. He does get smug when you tell someone off, or politely inform them that you have a boyfriend. Jamil reveals in their look of defeat (he is a bit of a sadist in that regard). The time his jealousy truly shines is when Kalim is in the equation. He refuses to allow Kalim to take anything else from him, never mind you. The way Kalim easily makes you smile, steals your time with frivolous parties, puts his hands on you…yeah it's a feat that Jamil didn’t snap. Jamil is very good at masking his feelings, but the facade unravels when you both are alone for once. Give him your attention, affection, love, reassure him through touch that you want him. If you poke and prod enough he’ll admit he’s jealous, how it just reminds him that Kalim always takes and takes, afraid that you’ll fall for the charm (that Jamil couldn’t understand) of Kalim and fall into his arms instead. But when you soothe him, tell him that you see Kalim more of a brother if anything…Jamil will calm down and realize how foolish he’s being.

❥ Vil Schoenheit

Vil, jealous? Yeah no. Not normally at least. Have you seen him? Vil is one of the fairest of them all. If someone tried flirting with you he’d laugh in their face if that wasn’t disgraceful. If anything, you were the lucky one in this relationship…he does cherish you though, and he loves you more than he’d like to admit. You may be a lucky potato…but he was one lucky man as well. He managed to snag your heart without the flashing lights and fame, you loved him for who he was and he was grateful. So when Vil watches Neige talk to you with no care in the world, hearts practically in the boy’s eyes…yeah it's the one scenario you’ll witness a jealous Vil. He’ll perch himself by your side, arm slung around you as he greets you with a kiss to the cheek. A pleasant surprise as Vil isn’t this affectionate in public usually. Neige doesn’t seem to take the hint, so Vil ups the ante, talking about your last date and how he’s lucky you chose him. It’s an obvious change (and everyone knows the vitriol Vil holds for Neige). You eat the attention up, but after you're alone in his room, give him a ton of kisses, teasing him about how sweet he was, he doesn’t like to admit his jealousy, but he loves your affection.

❥ Idia Shroud

I’m noticing a pattern. Most of these guys have an inferiority complex. Idia’s is the most obvious. He barely believes you actually like him, so him being jealous is more common than not. Depending on how long you’ve been together he’ll react differently. If it's in the beginning, he’s blaming and degrading himself for not being good enough, that you deserve better and he locks himself in his room. He needs a lot of reassurance in this stage, lots of quality time. The longer you are together the more confident he gets. Someone tries to flirt with you; he's dissing them with his chronically online lingo. Doing that little giggle when you elbow him trying not to grin. Although those self-deprecating thoughts still swirl in his brain, he’s learned to trust and believe you, after all you decided to stay with him for how long? Not to mention that your reassurances made him feel better and trust you. You’ve seen his worst multiple times and you’re still by his side. Besides, if anyone dares insults Idia in their attempt to woo you you go crazy, insulting them which makes Idia want to melt, die, and kiss you all at once.

❥ Malleus Draconia

Malleus is a bit confusing. On one hand he 100% trusts you, on the other he can be a bit childish. You spend too much time without him or go out to something he wasn’t invited to and you’ll find him pouting upon your arrival. He doesn’t mean to, he’s glad you have others to have fun with and he doesn’t want to restrict you in any way…but he is a bit needy when it comes to your affection. He is so touch-starved and isolated that he can’t help but cling to you, feeling a bitter pang when you have to go. If anyone dares to flirt with you it's when he isn’t by your side and you're declining them instantly. If someone is actually insane and tries to flirt with you when Malleus is present either 1. Malleus watches on trying to hide his smugness as you decline or 2. Sebek is shouting insults at them before you even get the chance. All in all, Malleus isn’t too jealous, and when he is he tries to work on his possessiveness. He wants a healthy relationship with you after all, and he’d do anything to make you happy, even if that means letting you go for a day to hang out with your other friends.

[astrowrld300]

Astro Observations

Pt 2

It's so unreal how well Taurus placements can cook. Especially if there's Cancer in the big three. Taurus suns also have natural green thumbs

Cancer suns with Gemini Venuses are in constant conflict between they're ego and what they actually desire for love

This is definitely becoming common knowledge on the internet but all Libra placements that are personal and not generational are gay to some extent. Something about the scales allows them to go both ways I don't know . Depending on the placement and degree, it might make them uncomfortable, or the may proudly embrace it. But personal Libra placements can definitely go both ways

Cardinal signs are obsessed with each other, even though they're so toxic for each other.

5th house and Leo placements really love music. Leo rules the 5th house which is all about music, creativity and fun. So these natives really feel it.

Having your sun in the 11th house is a beautiful placement and creates a selfless person, but its the only placement for the sun to not be about "I" anymore. The sun is all about ego and self, ruled by Aries, but the 11th house is all about the collective, friends and the "greater good". Your ego is also heavily influenced by the collective and how you insert your self into the world.

Taurus moons have round/visible nostrils. They all have a green thumb for cooking as well

Aquarius suns and moons have very square shaped jawlines. Both the men and women.

The best sun+rising combo I've ever seen for Aquarius suns has to be Cancer rising. The blend is really heavenly and harmonious, the Cancer really softens out the Aquarian features perfectly (talking about the women idk about the men). This is only physical though

The best combo for Cancer suns definitely has to be Virgo in the big three. Either in the moon or rising, Virgo gives Cancer this snatched look that blends perfectly with the bone structure of cancer suns. (I'm also mostly referring to women here I don't know about the men) Although physically pretty, the combo creates a super insecure individual

Travel is such a big theme in the lives of natives with personal 9th house placements. It almost becomes the focus of life if there's a stellium.

Having your moon at 17 degrees (a critical Leo degree) makes you hella dramatic with your feelings. They're still valid, but you come off as a drama queen when feeling them.

Cancer suns are just as insecure and attention seeking as Leo when underdeveloped. Even though they're not sister signs they're ruled by the sun and moon, so essentially they are each other inside out.

Pisces is represented by the fish and the suns usually have big/swelled features and look a little bit like fish. Virgo placements have sharper/more defined features and Aries placements have prominent/tighter features.

Neptune aspecting Venus is a very underrated beauty indicator for transits and natal charts

Sagittarius rising are blessed with good luck in life since their chart ruler is Jupiter, the planet of luck. They also have hips on the larger side since Sagittarius rules the hips

Capricorn rules the skeletal part of the body and the native suns really have that skeleton bone structure in the face

Moon conjunct Rising is one of my favorite placements synastry placements for friendships. They are each other inside out and understand each other without words.

The most underrated house for the moon imo is the 9th house. The moon does really well here, there's a natural optimism and lightness to their feelings and emotions. I think this is from the influence of Sagittarius and Jupiter. They're also really funny people naturally and have a kind of intelligent humor

Cancer and Taurus placements are such big foodies. They also know how to cook very well and genuinely enjoy getting fat over other signs. Obviously all signs have the ability to cook, but Cancers and Tauruses make that home cooked comfort food that tastes like the feeling of your mom carrying you to bed.

5th house moons never feel emotionally fulfilled unless they're feeling some kind of fun or pleasure in life.

Taurus suns are the definition of work smarter not harder

Aries Mercuries are so smart especially if the sun is in Taurus or Gemini.

Geminis are known to talk with their hands and Italy's rising sign is literally Gemini...

You can always tell someone is Somali from the size of their forehead and the countries rising sign is literally Aries

Venus in the 8th house natal and synastry is that kind of ride or die love

Capricorn sun men actually think people what to hear their life lessons/lectures. It's really corny but they genuinely think they're helping. They also care so much about their rep but will never admit it. It makes sense because they rule the tenth house which is the house of popularity and is associated with our public image and rep. So obviously when Capricorn is in the sun, planet of self, their ego is closely tied with how they're perceived by others.

Scorpio moons are low key delusional but it's okay you guys had a rough childhood/relationship with your mother

The sexual attraction is crazy when you have the same mars sign as your partners rising sign (example. Leo mars-Leo rising) or if you have your mars opposite to their mars (example. Leo mars-Aquarius mars)

Aries moon women in red or leopard print is so perfect

Your gonna love the sun sign of whatever your rising sign is since the sun will naturally embody all the traits that you admire and will effortlessly be everything you want to be portrayed as.

Taurus risings, suns and moons look like bulls

Cancer venuses can lowkey hold down gemini venuses, it’s really harmonious for friendships. Not as compatible relationship wise because cancer venuses really don’t mess with how gemini venuses love. The love languages are just too different but when there are no constricting boundaries and it’s more of a playful friendship this pairing really works

[imloyaltoscoups]

just platonic? | yoon jeonghan

Once again, you're at Jeonghan's apartment, casually scrolling through Netflix on the TV, searching for a good show to watch, when you hear him sigh from the kitchen. It’s one of those exaggerated sighs that usually means he’s trying to get your attention without actually asking for it.

“Something wrong?” you call out, not looking up.

“I don’t know. Is there?” Jeonghan replies, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

You finally glance up, seeing him leaning against the kitchen counter, holding a mug of coffee. His hair is slightly messy, falling into his eyes, and he’s wearing that oversized shirt he always claims is ‘comfy,’ even though you know he just likes how it makes him look.

“What are you on about now?” you ask, putting the remote down.

Jeonghan shrugs, taking a slow sip from his mug, his eyes never leaving yours. “Nothing much. Just wondering why someone would spend so much time on the screen when there’s such captivating company right here.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh please, you just want attention. You’re like a cat, always craving someone to pet your ego.”

“And yet,” he says, his voice lowering a fraction, “you’re the one who always ends up giving me exactly what I want.”

You feel your face warm slightly at the suggestive undertone in his voice, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “Only because you’re so high maintenance. Someone’s got to keep you in check.”

Jeonghan’s smirk widens. He puts down his mug and walks over to the couch, sitting down a bit too close for comfort. “You sure that’s all it is? Because it kind of feels like you enjoy taking care of me.”

You huff, trying to ignore the way his leg is brushing against yours. “Someone has to. God knows you’d starve if I didn’t make you dinner every now and then.”

“True,” he says, his voice softening just a bit. “But I don’t just mean the food. You take care of me in other ways, too.”

The sudden sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, and you glance at him, meeting his gaze. There’s something in his eyes, something deep and familiar, and you know he’s not just talking about the meals you cook or the times you make sure he’s getting enough rest.

You quickly look away, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, someone’s gotta make sure you’re not getting too full of yourself.”

He chuckles, his shoulder bumping against yours. “Too late for that, don’t you think? You made me this way.”

“Yeah, right,” you mutter, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

There’s a brief pause, and then he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You know, if you wanted to keep me in check more often, you could always move in. Think about it—all the time in the world to tell me off for being too charming.”

You laugh, pushing him away lightly. “And spend even more time listening to you whine? Thanks but no thanks.”

Jeonghan grins, undeterred. “I’m just saying, you might enjoy it. We’d be good together, you know? Like an old married couple—arguing one minute, making up the next.”

There’s that undertone again, the one that’s somewhere between a tease and a promise. You roll your eyes for what feels like the hundredth time, but there’s no denying the butterflies you feel.

“Keep dreaming, Hannie,” you say, though there’s no real bite in your words.

He just smiles, leaning back on the couch and stretching out like a contented cat. “Don’t worry, I plan to.”

You lean back, crossing your arms as you try to ignore the heat rising in your face. Jeonghan, as usual this fcker, seems to have an uncanny ability to make you flustered, even when you know he’s just messing with you.

He glances at you sideways, his lips quirking into that sly smile that tells you he’s thinking something far more wicked than what he’s letting on. “You know, for someone who’s always pretending like we’re ‘just friends,’ you really do let me get a little too close sometimes.” His eyes flicker down to where your leg brushes against his, and you know he’s doing it on purpose.

You scoff, trying to keep your composure. “We are just friends. Stop trying to make it into something else.”

He leans back, his body close enough that the air between you seems charged. “Sure we are,” he says in that tone, the one that’s laced with something unspoken. He reaches over, his hand resting casually on your thigh. “Just friends who can’t keep their hands off each other, huh?”

You want to push his hand away, but instead, you let it stay there for a second longer than you should. “It’s not like that,” you murmur, though the lack of conviction in your voice betrays you.

“Oh, really?” he says, voice dropping lower, the teasing replaced with something more insistent. “Then why does your heart beat faster every time I touch you?” His hand moves just a little higher, the fingers pressing lightly against the edge of your shorts. “You can’t deny it—we’ve crossed a line. You’re not just my friend, and you know it.”

You give him a side-eye, your lips pressed into a thin line. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

He shifts closer, his thigh pressing against yours now, and his hand that is resting on your thigh move casually to rests on the back of the couch, inches from your shoulder. His voice drops lower, almost a whisper, but still with that undeniable edge of cocky arrogance. “I mean, we both know how good we are at this whole... arrangement. Can’t really call it ‘just friends’ when we’re in bed, can we?”

You stiffen slightly, but you refuse to let him get under your skin. “You’re ridiculous. Stop acting like you’ve got me all figured out.”

Jeonghan’s eyes sparkle with amusement as he watches you try to keep your composure. “It’s cute, you know,” he says, almost mockingly, “watching you pretend like this is all so innocent. But we both know better, don’t we?”

You snort, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “You’re really full of yourself today, huh?”

“Am I?” His smirk is sharp, teasing. “Or are you just mad you can’t deny it? Again we’ve already the crossed line, and we both know it. We’ve had our fun. But let’s be real here—you like it. I like it. And it works. So why not just embrace it?”

The way his words hang in the air makes it hard to focus on anything else. You try to ignore the effect it’s having on you—the little shiver creeping up your spine. You know you should pull away, but somehow, you don’t. Instead, you find yourself leaning to him just a little closer, almost subconsciously, as if your body is betraying your mind.

Jeonghan notices this, his smirk deepening. “See? You’re not fooling anyone. So why don’t we make it easier on ourselves? Why don’t you just move in with me? We already spend so much time together, and you’re always here anyway.” His eyes glint with mischief. “It’ll be so much more convenient, don’t you think?”

You let out a deep sigh before looking at him, “I told you before,” you say, trying to regain some semblance of control. “I’m not moving in with you. You’re too much to handle.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, leaning closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. “Am I? Because I think you’ve gotten pretty comfortable with all the ‘handling’ I’ve been doing.”

The way he says it makes you flush, but you’re not about to admit it. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Hannie. I’m not that easy.”

He chuckles softly, a sound that’s laced with both humor and something darker, more dangerous. “Oh, I know you’re not,” he says quietly. “But you still let me in. And that’s all I really need to know.” He then leans in closer, his breath brushing against your ear as he speaks again, his voice lower, more intimate. “And honestly, I think we’d be even better if we were together more... You know, living together. Think of all the time we’d have to... reconnect. You wouldn’t have to run home after a long night. We could take things slower... or not.”

The way his breath brushes your ear makes you shiver, and you can feel the heat creeping up your neck as he continues, his words slipping into that seductive tone he always seems to master so effortlessly. His lips are dangerously close now, his presence overwhelming, and despite yourself, you’re starting to feel the pull of what he’s suggesting.

“You really know how to push my buttons, don’t you?” you manage to say, though your voice falters slightly, betraying the effect he’s having on you.

Jeonghan chuckles softly, his lips brush against your ear, just a feather-light touch, but it makes your pulse quicken. “I know you like this. Don’t pretend you don’t.”, he whispers.

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as he continues, his lips now tracing the curve of your ear. You try to keep your cool, but your heart is racing in your chest, and your mind is clouded by the tension between you two. His proximity is too much, and you feel your resolve will start to crack anytime.

“You’re so damn persistent,” you mutter, trying to keep your composure. “Always getting what you want.”

“You’re not so hard to figure out, you know,” Jeonghan replies with a smirk that’s all too knowing. He moves his lips down to your jaw, kissing just below your ear before pulling back slightly. “I already know how to make you give in. But imagine if I had more time with you... more time to make you forget everything but me.”

His lips are soft as they peck your cheek, just a brief, innocent touch, but it sends a jolt of warmth through your body. He doesn’t give you time to respond, immediately tilting your chin gently to face him. You don’t pull away, but your breath catches in your throat as his eyes lock onto yours, deep and intense.

“I don’t just want you to be here for a night, or a weekend, or when it’s convenient. I want all of you,” he murmurs, his lips barely brushing yours as he speaks. “I want you here, with me, all the time. Think about it—having everything we want, whenever we want. No more distance, no more playing games.”

It’s not a suggestion anymore. It’s more like an invitation, wrapped in all the quiet promises that make your heart race and your mind spin. You try to hold onto the threads of control, but his gaze is too damn intense, too disarming. Your mind flashes with the idea of being with him all the time—living together, waking up to him every day, hearing his voice close by at all hours. And just the thought has your stomach flipping.

He tilts his head slightly, still close enough for his lips to brush against your skin every time he speaks. “You already leave things at my place. You think I don’t notice? You’re halfway there already. We’re already halfway there.”

You bite your lip, caught somewhere between wanting to push him away and wanting to pull him closer. He’s always been like this—persistent, unrelenting, and yet somehow irresistible. It’s dangerous. It’s thrilling. And the worst part is, you’re starting to want it, too.

“You’re really a pain in the ass,” you say, but the edge in your voice is gone, replaced with something softer, something that gives away just how much he’s getting to you.

“I’m only persistent because I know exactly what I want,” he says with a grin, brushing your hair behind your ear as his fingers graze your skin. His gaze flicks to your lips, and the tension between you both heightens in a heartbeat.

You can barely find your voice, the words coming out quieter than you intend. “And you always get what you want, right?”

Jeonghan’s grin deepens, his lips barely brushing yours as he speaks, his voice low and smooth. “Exactly. So what’s stopping you?”

p.s: I leave this to your imagination

....... ≿━━━━━༺MASTERLIST༻━━━━━≾ .......

[recreationalfanfics]

"What A Beautiful Family!"

In which you get confused for being a family

Rengoku:

- It happens during a trip to the store in town with his little brother. Maybe it was to restock groceries or maybe it was buying supplies for his next demon conquest, either way: all three of you went down to visit.

- Rengoku smiled softly at you as he watched you with his little brother, holding his hand and laughing with Senjuro and occasionally lifting him up and spinning around.

- At some point during the walk, Senjuro pointed at some birds flying in the tree and begged Kyojuro for a closer look, which Kyojuro happily allowed him to do and put him on his shoulders with a big smile. You helped Senjuro steady himself and laughed at how precious the two looked.

- As Senjuro and Kyojuro debated about what kind of birds they were, you couldn't help but look at Kyojuro with nothing less than love in your eyes and a fond smile.

- "Aw, how precious!" a woman walking past with a basket filled with baked goods cooed at you three, "I'm glad even with demons terrorizing us, people can still have moments like this. Here, have some!"

- At first you tried to decline out of embarrassment but Kyojuro humbly took them and gave one to Kyojuro and handed a pastry to you. You were hesitant but then you took it and graciously thanked the lady, "but also, I feel bad for not paying for these, ma'am. Please, let me-"

- "Don't you worry about it. A beautiful family like you should enjoy a good snack on such a lovely day, especially since your husband's a hashira."

- Rengoku opened his mouth to let out a hearty "TASTY!" but stopped himself halfway when he heard that. You just stared at the lady in flustered shock as she bowed her head and walked away.

- You and Kyojuro shared a look with each other, Kyojuro giving you a nervous yet wide grin and you returned it. Both of your faces felt warm and you were barely able to hold eye contact with each other.

- "Haha, that lady thought you were (Y/n)'s husband! Isn't that funny, big brother?" and Rengoku's gaze softens as you become timid and look down at your feet, "Yes...I suppose it is, Kyojuro."

Tengen:

- You were walking with Tengen and his wives, happy to see him a bit more after his retirement, when you stumbled upon three neighboring children, who played too roughly and were crying their eyes out about it.

- You and Hinatsuru helped them while Suma tried not to cry with the two boys but offered to help and Makio awkwardly tried to calm them down. Tengen just squatted down and told them that it wasn't very flashy to cry, which made you and Hina elbow him.

- Instead of getting more upset, however, all three boys became excited and seemed to recgonize Tengen, asking him if he was the sound Hashira, which seemed to greatly inflate his ego as he said: "Yes but I am also the God of Festivals!"/ "WOW! REALLY!?"

- You and his wives exchanged glances knowing he wouldn't shut up. When they asked if he could tell him a story of the demons he fought, he tried to be all: "Oh, it might be too scary for you kids...BUT WHAT THE HECK- So I was in the Entertainment District which is filled with prost-"/ "UZUI."/ "IT'S IMPORTANT TO THE STORY."

- Anyways, after some censoring, each boy found a home in your lap, Suma's lap, and another sat on Hinatsuru's but leaned their head on Makio's arm. All of you entranced by Tengen's storytelling and prescence.

- "Haha, such an energetic father. Those boys are definetly gonna grow up strong!"/ "I wonder which of those women are his wife?"/ "From the way they're looking at him, all four, probably."

- Tengen's voice suddenly stopped, most likely because he heard what they said, but instead of correcting him, his eyes landed on you. You could feel Hina's, Suma's, and Makio's gaze on you as well and you felt timid...but not uncomfortable. His lips upturned into a smirk and you felt yourself trying to look at ANYWHERE but the attractive faces that were staring at you.

- "Well, what happened next!?" One of the boys demanded, impatient from the cliff hanger.

- "Huh- Oh, right! Anyways, this demon CAME OUT and he was UGLY. Absolutely hideous, like a monster that crawled from under your bed-"

- When the boys finally were called home, you all waved goodbye and parted ways. Leaving you alone with the retired Hashira and his wives, you didn't say anything but the energy felt different as Suma clung to your arm and Tengen walked closer to you, Makio's eyes would stray towards you but timidly look away when you caught her gaze as Hina wished this walk would last forever. Just the five of you.

[cosmicalily]

3:26pm with seo changbin - a @cosmicalily timestamp

author’s note: thank you all for waiting for this one! she's short, but very, very sweet :)

“You good?” Changbin asked, looking at you worriedly from the hallway. He was sweaty from the gym, his black tank top clinging to his chest and a little out of breath. Normally, you’d absolutely inhale him in this condition, hands all over him, pressing adoring kisses on his cheeks, lips and nose. 

Yet, you remained flat on the couch, as if he wasn’t even there. 

He couldn’t help but feel his ego deflate a little at your ignorance.

“Head hurts,” you groaned, hands covering your eyes.

Ah. Changbin knew this version of you well.

“I’m going to take this from you,” he said, pulling your phone out from under your back and setting it on the table. “Have you had any water? Any food?” He reached to pull your hands from your eyes, smiling at you comfortingly.

You pouted at his questions. “No,” you huffed. 

“And this headache just magically manifested itself, not because you’ve starved and dehydrated yourself this whole morning?”

“Yes,” you replied firmly, hands reaching up to squeeze his arms. Your fingers trailed down to his hands, which you interlinked with yours. He gently rubbed soft circles into your palm, kneeling beside the sofa.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he replied, letting go of one of your hands to stroke your forehead lovingly. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“Yeah. It’s a bit better now, though.”

“Because your favourite boy in the whole world just got home?”

“Shush. Can I lie down on your chest?”

Changbin chuckled. “Sure, once you’ve had a glass of water. You can lie on me while we decide what you’re gonna eat for a very late lunch, okay?”

“Okay.”

You pulled yourself off the couch, going to the kitchen and downing a glass of water as quickly as possible, motivated by the anticipation of a full body cuddle. When you returned, Changbin laid himself down on his back, then climbed on top of him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he wrapped his around your waist, kissing your forehead softly as you nestled into his skin.

“I’m sweaty, you don’t mind?”

“I like it.”

“Freak,” Changbin laughed. 

The two of you laid on the sofa, bodies tightly pressed against each other. He felt you snuffle a little against his neck, and soon enough, your breaths rose and fell gently. 

And oh, even if you’d entirely self-inflicted this state of irritation and pain, his heart only softened more at your vulnerability when you were like this. Something about how simple love was during moments like this, how all you wanted was him, even if your biological needs were far more complex.

It was sweet. In the same conditions, he was sure he’d pick you above anything else a thousand times.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @btch8008s @yaniluvs @ellemir2404 @bellarellasstuff @starsinagreenskyxx @ashtxrie @pigeonseatmayo - comment, dm or send an ask to be added

[theonottsbxtch]

DONT WANNA BE SAVED | MV1

an: mafia!max i DO want to be saved, please do not mix me up with the main character she's just a bit silly. also single dad!max hmu, yeah? i hope you're aware of how much googling i had to do this for request because i know NOTHING about dressage.

wc: 6.2k

The rhythmic crunch of gravel under the tyres was the only sound that cut through the quiet tension in the air. Max Verstappen drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, his sharp jaw clenched. He wasn’t used to venturing into parts of town that didn’t know his name, but for his little girl, he’d do anything—even if it meant swallowing his pride and knocking on the door of a horse trainer who clearly wanted nothing to do with him.

The GPS barked at him, announcing the final turn. Max squinted through the windscreen at the small, unassuming ranch sprawled out in the middle of nowhere. The place looked sturdy but unpolished, a far cry from the grand estates he usually associated with trainers who were supposedly “the best.” He cut the engine and stepped out, the crisp bite of the afternoon wind tugging at the tailored lapels of his suit.

The barn doors creaked open, and she emerged.

She was nothing like he expected. For someone with a reputation of being the finest dressage instructor on this side of the country, she didn’t look the part. Her hair was loosely tied back, strands falling into her face as she adjusted the cuff of her sleeve. Her boots were scuffed, her hands calloused, and there was a streak of dirt smeared across her cheek. Yet, the confidence in the way she moved was unmistakable—deliberate, purposeful, like she could size him up in a heartbeat and decide exactly how much of her time he deserved.

Max straightened as she approached, his usual commanding air faltering under her cool, appraising gaze. “Mr Verstappen?” she asked, voice calm and low, though there was a slight arch to her brow as she clocked his expensive suit against the rustic backdrop.

“That’s right,” he replied, recovering quickly. “I called about my daughter, Stella.”

“I remember.” Her tone was unreadable as she wiped her hands on her jeans and extended one to him. He hesitated a second too long before shaking it. Firm grip. No nonsense.

“She’s serious about competing,” Max continued, trying to soften the edge in his voice. “I’ve been told you’re the best, and I don’t settle for less when it comes to her.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, almost like a smile, but not quite. “Dressage isn’t about settling or not settling,” she said. “It’s about discipline, patience, and trust. None of which can be bought.”

Max’s jaw ticked at the subtle dig, but he didn’t rise to it. He was here for Stella, not to flex his ego. “You’ll have all the resources you need,” he said instead. “Money isn’t an issue.”

Her eyes flicked to him, sharp as a blade. “Good. Because if your daughter’s going to train with me, I’m going to need more than that.” She turned abruptly, gesturing for him to follow her towards the barn. “I’ll meet Stella, and we’ll go from there. But just so we’re clear—I don’t babysit, and I don’t do miracles.”

Max trailed behind her, a slow smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. She was bold, he’d give her that. Most people were too afraid to speak to him like that. Maybe she really was the best.

His shoes crunched against the gravel as he followed her into the barn. The earthy scent of hay and leather mingled with the faint sweetness of horses, instantly grounding the space. Inside, sunlight filtered through the high windows, casting golden streaks across the straw-scattered floor. A bay mare in one of the stables tossed her head, her ears twitching at the sound of their footsteps.

She leaned against the edge of the stall, absently running her fingers along the edge of the wood. “How old is Stella?” she asked, her voice carrying the clipped efficiency of someone who didn’t waste time on niceties.

“Nine,” Max said, stepping closer. “She’s ridden before, but it’s always been a hobby. Now, she’s ready to take it seriously.”

“Is she?” she asked, glancing at him.

Max frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, is she ready? Or are you?” She crossed her arms, leaning her weight casually against the stable door.

His nostrils flared, but he bit back his instinctive retort. People didn’t question him—not in his world. But this was different. For Stella, he’d let his temper take a back seat. “Stella’s the one who asked. She’s determined, and I support her in whatever she wants.”

For the first time, her expression softened, just slightly. “Good. A lot of parents want this more than the kids. It shows in the way they push them, and that pressure never works. Horses aren’t machines. They pick up on that tension, and it ruins the trust.”

He nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure he liked being lectured. “Trust, discipline, patience,” he said, his voice taking on a dry edge. “I got it.”

Her lips twitched again, and this time he was certain it was a smile, however faint. “You don’t strike me as the patient type.”

Max chuckled, low and sharp. “You’d be surprised. I know when to wait. I also know when to act.”

Something flickered in her gaze at that, but she didn’t let it linger. Instead, she straightened and pushed open the stable door, letting the mare step out. The horse was sleek and graceful, her muscles shifting smoothly under her polished coat.

“This is Luna,” she said, patting the mare’s neck. “She’s my best. If Stella wants to learn, she’ll start with her.”

“Stella doesn’t have her own horse yet,” Max admitted, studying the animal.

“Good. That makes it easier. Luna’s a good judge of character. If Stella’s nervous, Luna will know. And if Luna doesn’t trust her...” She shrugged, leaving the rest unsaid.

Max raised an eyebrow. “What happens then?”

“She doesn’t ride,” she said simply.

He appreciated her bluntness, even if it grated at him. She wasn’t someone he could charm or intimidate, and oddly, that made him more intrigued.

As if sensing his thoughts, she brushed past him, leading Luna to a bridle rack. “Bring Stella by tomorrow. I’ll see what we’re working with.”

“And what about you?” Max asked, his voice dropping slightly, almost testing.

She turned, brow furrowing. “What about me?”

“You seem to have high expectations,” he said. “If Stella’s the one being judged, does that mean you’ve already made up your mind about me?”

Her gaze lingered on him, steady and unflinching. “You’re not the one I’m here to teach, Mr Verstappen. But if you’re asking...” She paused, her lips curving into the faintest smirk. “I’ve met plenty of men like you. You don’t scare me.”

Max tilted his head, his mouth pulling into a slow, deliberate grin. “Plenty of men like me? Somehow, I doubt that.”

The month following his first meeting with her passed in a blur of early mornings, long afternoons, and the kind of quiet determination that Max had to admit impressed him. Stella had taken to the training better than he could have hoped, and her instructor—well, she’d more than lived up to her reputation.

She was tough but fair, demanding excellence without suffocating his daughter’s enthusiasm. Max had watched every session from the sidelines, arms crossed, keeping a respectful distance but always observing. And more than once, he found his attention drifting—not to Stella, but to her instructor.

There was something about her. A kind of grit that didn’t falter, even when she was teaching patience to a headstrong nine-year-old. Her quiet confidence didn’t demand attention; it commanded it. Max had seen plenty of people fake authority, but she wore it like second skin.

He liked that.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was to see her a month later, in a completely different world.

The pounding bass hit him first, reverberating through his chest as he pushed through the crowd. The club was dimly lit, alive with movement—people dancing, drinks clinking, laughter rising over the music. It wasn’t his usual scene, but a meeting had brought him here, one of those backroom negotiations that needed the anonymity of chaos.

He’d wrapped up the deal without trouble, but as he made his way back to the main floor, something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

There she was, behind the bar.

Her hair was down, loose waves brushing her shoulders, and she wasn’t in scuffed boots or faded jeans anymore. Instead, she wore a fitted black top and a skater skirt, a thin chain glinting at her neck under the neon lights. She moved with an easy rhythm, pouring drinks and flashing quick smiles to the patrons leaning against the bar.

For a moment, Max thought he’d imagined it. But then she turned slightly, catching his profile out of the corner of her eye, and froze.

Her eyes widened for just a second—barely noticeable—but enough for him to catch it. She recovered quickly, though, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow as if to say, What are you doing here?

Max didn’t answer her unspoken question. Instead, he made his way to the bar, sliding between two drunken men slouched over their cocktails. He rested his elbows on the polished surface, waiting for her to acknowledge him.

“Mr Verstappen,” she said finally, leaning forward slightly. Her voice was calm, but there was a flicker of something else in her expression—annoyance, maybe, or surprise. “Didn’t think this was your kind of place.”

“It’s not,” he admitted, letting his eyes roam the bottles behind her before settling back on her face. “But it seems I’m full of surprises tonight.”

She snorted softly, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. She placed it in front of him, her smirk sharp. “You look like you need this more than a whiskey.”

Max chuckled, low and rough. “Not here for a drink. Just curious.” He tilted his head, studying her. “Didn’t peg you for the nightlife type.”

“Didn’t think you were paying that much attention,” she shot back, wiping her hands on a bar towel.

“More than you realise,” Max murmured. He wasn’t sure if she caught the softness in his tone over the thumping music, but her eyes narrowed slightly, her posture stiffening.

“I could say the same about you,” she replied, shifting her weight. “What’s the boss of half the city doing in a place like this?”

“Business,” he said simply, straightening. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

She leaned closer, resting her hands on the bar. “You’re full of questions tonight, aren’t you?”

“Just one.” His voice dipped, his gaze unwavering. “Why are you here?”

She rolled her eyes, breaking the tension with a dry laugh. “It’s called having bills to pay, Verstappen. Not all of us have cash to burn. This keeps the lights on when teaching doesn’t.”

Max didn’t miss the edge to her words, and he wondered, not for the first time, just how much she kept buried beneath that sharp exterior. She didn’t need saving—that much was obvious—but the thought of her working this job, with the late hours and the leering patrons, stirred something primal in him.

“How long have you been doing this?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“Long enough,” she said, shrugging. “And I’m good at it. Don’t look so shocked.”

“I’m not shocked.” He paused, letting the moment hang between them. “But I’m not exactly thrilled, either.”

Her expression hardened slightly, and she straightened, putting more distance between them. “Don’t start with that ‘I know what’s best’ routine. I get enough of that already.”

Max raised his hands, palms out in mock surrender. “No routine. Just... noticing things.”

“Noticed enough, then?” she asked, turning away to serve another customer.

For the first time in a long time, Max found himself on uneven ground. He wasn’t sure if he was impressed, frustrated, or just intrigued. But one thing was certain: she had a way of staying in his head, and it was starting to feel less like an annoyance and more like an inevitability.

As she moved down the bar, he lingered, watching her work. No, she didn’t need saving. But the urge to shield her from this world, to pull her away from the late nights and the reckless strangers, was already starting to claw its way to the surface.

And Max Verstappen wasn’t the kind of man to ignore an instinct like that.

For weeks after the encounter at the club, Max couldn’t shake the image of her behind the bar. It wasn’t just the stark contrast to her usual self—confident, commanding, utterly at home in the arena—but the way it gnawed at something deep inside him.

She didn’t belong in that place, surrounded by cheap cologne and drunken hands reaching for more than drinks. The thought of her dealing with that night after night twisted in his gut like a blade.

It wasn’t just about Stella anymore. He’d grown to respect her over the past month—the way she pushed his daughter without breaking her spirit, the way she handled herself with a quiet strength that most people in his world didn’t have.

That respect, though, was starting to blur into something more. And Max wasn’t sure what to do with that.

He finally brought it up on a crisp Friday morning, just after Stella’s session. The three of them stood by the paddock, Luna grazing lazily a few feet away. Stella was laughing at something, her cheeks flushed from the chill and the effort she’d put into the lesson. Max felt a swell of pride watching her, but his gaze kept drifting back to her instructor.

When Stella wandered off to grab a snack from the car, he seized the moment.

“You’ve been doing good work with her,” he began, his voice low and steady.

She gave him a side glance, adjusting the bridle she was holding. “Thanks.”

“You know,” he continued, his tone carefully casual, “I’ve been thinking about your rate.”

Her hands froze for a split second before she turned to face him fully. “My rate?”

He nodded. “You’re worth more than what I’m paying you. A lot more. I’d like to fix that.”

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion flaring immediately. “Fix it, huh?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You’re not charging enough for the kind of work you do. I’m doubling it.”

She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “And what’s this really about, Max? Feeling generous all of a sudden?”

“It’s not generosity,” he said, his jaw tightening. “It’s fairness.”

Her laugh was sharp, almost bitter. “Fairness. Right. Is that what you call pity now?”

His brows shot up. “Pity? You think I pity you?”

“What else am I supposed to think? You see me working a second job and suddenly decide to play knight in shining armour?” She shook her head, a hard edge to her voice. “Keep your money, Verstappen. I don’t need your charity.”

“It’s not charity!” His voice rose slightly, and she blinked at the rare flash of frustration. He took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. “Is it a sin,” he said, his voice quieter now, “that I want to make sure you’ve got a roof over your head?”

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she sighed and leaned against the paddock fence. “You’ve got a hell of a way of showing it,” she muttered.

“What do you want from me?” Max asked, spreading his hands. “You work yourself to the bone here, and then you go to that—” He stopped himself, his voice tight. “That place. And you think I’m just supposed to ignore it? Pretend I don’t care?”

Her lips quirked into a smirk, though there was little humour in it. “Careful, Max. You’re starting to sound like a softie.”

He barked a laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you’re raising a nine-year-old daughter on your own. And her closest friends are her unofficial uncles in the mafia.”

Her brows shot up, and for a moment, her lips twitched like she was fighting the urge to laugh. “That right?”

“That’s right,” he said, his tone lighter now, but his eyes still serious. “And maybe I don’t want to see someone else I—” He stopped, catching himself before he said too much. “Someone I respect running herself ragged.”

She studied him, her gaze softer now, but still guarded. “Max, I’m fine. Really. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, and I don’t need anyone swooping in to do it for me.”

“I know you don’t need it,” he said quietly. “But maybe I need to do it anyway.”

The honesty in his voice left her momentarily speechless. She glanced away, focusing on the horizon. “You’re impossible,” she muttered.

“Maybe,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But I don’t give up easily. Ask Stella.”

“Trust me, I’ve noticed,” she said, shaking her head. “Fine. If you’re so desperate to throw your money around, I’ll let you pay me more. But only because you’ll keep bugging me if I don’t.”

“That’s probably true,” he said with a shrug.

“But,” she added, pointing a finger at him, “if you start thinking this means I owe you something, I will kick you off this property.”

Max grinned, the tension between them easing slightly. “Noted.”

For now, it was enough. But as she walked away, her shoulders straight and her head held high, Max couldn’t help but think that his concern for her was starting to go beyond what he could justify as simple admiration.

And that thought both thrilled and terrified him.

He wasn’t sure when exactly it started happening—the subtle shift from guarded respect to something warmer, more playful. At first, he’d chalked it up to her stubborn streak. She never missed an opportunity to challenge him, whether it was a pointed remark about his suit and tie being out of place at the barn or her light jabs at his overprotective tendencies.

But as the weeks went on, those jabs started to feel less like walls and more like invitations.

It began innocently enough. One morning, Max showed up to Stella’s session with two coffees in hand—one black, the way he liked it, and one sweet and milky, based on an educated guess.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to her as she adjusted a saddle.

She glanced at the cup and then back at him, one eyebrow raised. “What’s this?”

“Coffee,” he replied dryly.

Her lips twitched. “I can see that. What I mean is, why are you giving it to me?”

“Because it’s cold, and I’m not completely heartless,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She took the cup, sniffed it cautiously, then sipped. Her eyes lit up for a brief second before narrowing. “Let me guess—someone else made this choice for you, didn’t they? No way you guessed right on your own.”

He grinned. “You caught me. Stella might have mentioned you have a sweet tooth.”

“Mm-hmm.” She set the cup on a nearby ledge, her expression neutral. “Thanks, Verstappen. I’ll try not to read too much into it.”

“You do that,” he said, but his smirk lingered for the rest of the morning.

It was then a Wednesday afternoon, and Max had just arrived at the barn when he caught her pulling a boot from a deep puddle of mud.

“You look like you’re having fun,” he said, leaning against the fence with his arms crossed.

She shot him a look, her nose scrunching. “Don’t start. This is your daughter’s fault, by the way. She decided Luna needed a little adventure off the trail.”

“She’s nine,” Max said, his tone mock-defensive. “You can’t hold her responsible for everything.”

She stomped her now-filthy boot back into place and gave him a pointed once-over. “No, but I can hold you responsible. You’re the one who raised her.”

Max laughed, loud and genuine, and it startled her for a second. She recovered quickly, shaking her head as she brushed past him. “You’re lucky I like Stella.”

“Lucky, huh?” he called after her. “I’ll take that as a win.”

The following week Max was standing at the edge of the paddock, watching Stella trot a clean figure-eight, when he felt her step up beside him.

“She’s getting better,” she said, her voice low and even.

“She’s got a good teacher,” Max replied, not looking away from the horse and rider.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her roll her eyes. “Flattery doesn’t work on me, Verstappen.”

“Wasn’t trying to flatter,” he said, turning to face her fully. “Just stating facts.”

She squinted at him, clearly suspicious. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Maybe,” he said, his smirk returning. “Or maybe it’s just that you’re finally starting to warm up to me.”

She snorted. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” But her lips curved into a reluctant smile, and Max couldn’t help but feel like he’d scored a small victory.

By the fourth week, the playful banter had become a regular part of their routine. It was after Stella’s lesson, with the late afternoon sun casting golden light over the barn, that Max finally decided to push the boundary just a little further.

“So,” he said casually, leaning against the fence as she packed away the gear. “What do you do for fun? When you’re not working two jobs and pretending you don’t like my coffee.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder. “Why do you care?”

“Call it curiosity,” he said, shrugging. “Or maybe I’m trying to figure out if you’re even capable of fun.”

She laughed, tossing a saddle pad into the tack room. “I’m plenty capable, thank you very much. I just don’t have a lot of time for it.”

“That’s a shame,” Max said, his voice dropping slightly. “Maybe you should make time.”

She paused, turning to face him fully. Her expression was wary, but there was a flicker of something else—something that made his pulse quicken. “And what would I do with all this hypothetical free time?”

“Well,” he said, stepping closer, his tone careful but deliberate, “you could start by letting me buy you dinner.”

Her eyes widened, just a fraction, before she masked her surprise with a smirk. “Dinner, huh? Is this another one of your attempts to ‘make sure I’ve got a roof over my head’?”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “No. This is me asking you to spend time with me. No strings, no pity money. Just dinner.”

She hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of the bridle she’d been holding. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, his voice softening. “Unless, of course, you’re too scared.”

That did it. Her chin lifted, and her smirk turned into a full-blown grin. “Scared? Of you? Not likely.”

“Good,” Max said, his own smile widening. “How about Friday night?”

She tilted her head, pretending to consider. “Alright, Verstappen. You’ve got yourself a deal. But don’t think this means I’m going easy on Stella.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his chest lighter than it had been in weeks.

As she turned to finish her work, Max couldn’t help but feel like he’d just won the most important negotiation of his life.

Leading up to that Friday night, Max had been on edge all day, and he didn’t know why.

Everything had been going smoothly—Stella’s training, his business, even his tentative plans for dinner. But there was a gnawing unease in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t shake. He’d checked his phone more times than he cared to admit, waiting for a text from her confirming their meeting, but the screen stayed stubbornly blank.

By the time the sun started setting, his patience ran out. Max grabbed his keys and headed for his car, his gut screaming at him to go now.

When he pulled up outside her small cottage, the sight of her truck with its tailgate open and half-packed belongings hit him like a punch to the chest.

He stepped out of the car, his brows furrowing as he called out, “What’s going on?”

She looked up sharply, startled. For a split second, he saw something in her eyes—panic, maybe, or guilt—but she masked it quickly, busying herself with stuffing a duffel bag into the truck bed.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice tight. “Just... handling some stuff.”

Max crossed the distance between them in a few long strides, his tone sharp. “Don’t lie to me. What’s going on?”

“I’m not lying,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “It’s none of your business, Max.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” he shot back, grabbing the edge of the truck bed. “We had plans tonight, and now I find you packing up your life like you’re running from something. Talk to me.”

She let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her hair. “Look, it’s complicated, alright? I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“You might not,” Max said, his voice lowering, “but I’m not leaving until you give me one.”

For a moment, she stood there, glaring at him like she was debating whether to push him away or tell him to mind his own business. But then something in her resolve cracked.

“Fine,” she muttered. “You want to know? I screwed up when I was younger. Got mixed up with the wrong people—the Tifosi. And now they’ve decided it’s payback time.”

The name hit Max like a freight train. The Tifosi were no joke. Ruthless, calculating, and vindictive, they didn’t let debts slide, no matter how old.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice tight with a mixture of anger and concern.

“Because it’s not your problem,” she said, her tone sharp. “I don’t need you swooping in to play hero, Max. I’ve handled worse.”

“That’s not the point!” His voice rose, frustration bleeding into his words. “You should’ve told me. I could’ve—”

“Could’ve what?” she snapped, her eyes flashing. “Fixed it? Made it all go away? Newsflash, Verstappen: not everything is yours to control. I don’t need to be saved!”

Max’s jaw clenched as her words sank in. He took a step back, his hands gripping the edge of the truck bed so tightly his knuckles turned white. Then, without a word, he grabbed the duffel bag she’d just loaded and yanked it back out.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, her voice rising.

“You’re not running,” he said firmly, throwing the bag into the back of his car. “You’re coming with me.”

“The hell I am!” She stepped forward, trying to grab the bag, but Max blocked her, his voice like steel.

“Yes, you are. My daughter needs an instructor, and I’m not letting her down because of some silly little debt.”

Her mouth fell open in disbelief, anger flashing across her face. “Silly little debt? Are you out of your mind? You know who they are!”

“I do,” Max said, his tone calm but unyielding. “And I know how to deal with them.”

“You don’t understand—”

“I understand plenty,” he cut her off, stepping closer. “You think you’re the only one who’s had the Tifosi breathing down their neck? You think I don’t know what it’s like to owe them?”

Her eyes widened, her anger faltering for the first time.

“I’ve dealt with them before,” Max continued, his voice softer now but no less determined. “And I’m still standing. You don’t have to do this alone.”

She stared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to process his words. Finally, she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because,” he said, his gaze locking onto hers, “I don’t let people I care about get crushed by this life. And whether you like it or not, I care about you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Then she turned away, her shoulders tense. “Max, this is a mistake. You don’t need to get involved.”

“It’s not a mistake,” he said firmly. “And you’re coming with me, whether you like it or not. End of discussion.”

Before she could argue, he grabbed the rest of her bags, loading them into his car with a finality that left no room for debate.

She stood there, torn between fury and something she didn’t want to name, as Max closed the trunk and opened the passenger door.

“Get in,” he said, his voice steady but not unkind.

For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then, with a resigned sigh, she walked toward the car and slid into the passenger seat.

As Max got behind the wheel, he glanced at her, his expression softening just enough to show her he meant what he’d said.

“You’re not alone in this,” he murmured.

She didn’t respond, but the way her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly told him she’d heard him loud and clear.

The ride back to Max’s estate was silent, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of gravel under the tires. She sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.

Max glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to say something, to fill the tense quiet with words that might reassure her, but he knew better. She wasn’t the type to be soothed by platitudes, and besides, she’d made it clear she didn’t want his help.

Too bad, he thought grimly. She was getting it whether she wanted it or not.

When they pulled into his driveway, the sprawling estate loomed in the moonlight, its imposing structure a sharp contrast to her modest cottage. Max stepped out of the car and rounded to the trunk without a word, hauling her bags out with practiced ease.

“Where’s the rest?” he asked as she stepped out of the car.

“The rest of what?” she said, her tone clipped.

“Your horses.”

She blinked, taken aback. “They’re still at the barn. I wasn’t planning on leaving them.”

Max pulled his phone from his pocket, already dialling. “They’ll be here by morning.”

“Wait—what?” she sputtered, her voice rising. “You can’t just—”

“Watch me,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He spoke briefly into the phone, his words curt and to the point. When he hung up, he turned back to her, his expression calm but firm. “They’ll be transported safely. You’ll have stalls for them here.”

She stared at him, her frustration clear. “You don’t get to make decisions for me, Max.”

He shrugged, hefting one of her bags onto his shoulder. “I just did.”

The house was quiet as they entered, the kind of silence that spoke of thick walls and careful security. Max led her through the spacious halls, his steps sure and unhurried despite the tension in the air.

He stopped at a door on the second floor and pushed it open, revealing a neatly furnished room with warm, neutral tones.

“This is yours,” he said, setting her bags down near the bed.

She glanced around, taking in the plush rug, the antique dresser, and the large window overlooking the grounds. “It’s... nice,” she admitted reluctantly.

“It’ll do,” he said with a faint smirk.

He gestured for her to follow him down the hall, stopping at another door. This time, he knocked lightly before opening it.

Stella’s room was a whirlwind of bright colours and cheerful chaos. Posters of horses adorned the walls, and the bed was covered in a tangle of blankets and stuffed animals.

Stella looked up from where she was brushing her hair, her face lighting up when she saw her instructor. “You’re here!” she exclaimed, bounding over. “Are you having a sleepover?!”

She laughed softly, some of the tension easing from her posture. “Something like that, kiddo.”

“This is so cool!” Stella said, practically vibrating with excitement. “Wait till I tell Uncle Oz—oh, can Uncle Ozzy meet you in the morning? She’ll be so happy!”

Max chuckled, ruffling Stella’s hair. “Alright, alright. You can tell Oscar in the morning. Let her rest she’s just got here. And if anything happens, you call Uncle Lan. Got it?”

Stella nodded solemnly, her big eyes darting between her father and her instructor. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Just for a bit,” Max said, his voice gentle.

She pouted but didn’t argue, which made Max’s heart twist a little. He glanced at her instructor, who was watching the exchange with a quiet intensity.

When they stepped back into the hallway, she turned to him, arms crossed. “Where are you going?”

“Business,” he said simply, heading toward the stairs.

She followed him, her tone sharp. “You mean the Tifosi.”

Max paused, turning to face her. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held an edge of steel. “I said I’d handle it.”

Her jaw tightened. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” he said firmly. “They made it my business the second they came after you.”

She stared at him, her emotions warring between gratitude and frustration. Finally, she sighed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Max’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “I’ve been told.”

And with that, he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the grand staircase as she stood there, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and something she couldn’t quite name.

The clock read just past midnight as Max pulled into the driveway, the quiet rumble of his car breaking the stillness of the night. The meeting with the Tifosi had gone as expected—tense, with more threats than he cared to count—but he’d made his position clear. They wouldn’t touch her. Not if they wanted to keep breathing.

He stepped inside the house, letting out a breath as the familiar warmth of home washed over him. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he moved through the quiet halls. When he reached the living room, the sight before him stopped him in his tracks.

There they were: his daughter curled up on the sofa, her small frame nestled against the armrest, and next to her, her instructor. The TV flickered softly, showing clips of a younger, brighter version of the woman beside his daughter.

He stood there for a moment, watching as the faint strains of applause and commentary played from the screen. The sight of her expertly guiding a horse through intricate dressage routines stirred something in him. But it was the way she slept now, her head tilted back, her features softened in the glow of the TV, that made his chest ache.

Max stepped closer, careful not to wake them. Stella’s head rested against the woman’s arm, her little hand clutching a stuffed horse. Max smiled faintly, his heart swelling as he reached down to scoop his daughter up.

Stella stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open for a moment before closing again. “Daddy?” she mumbled sleepily.

“Shh,” Max whispered, kissing her temple. “Just putting you to bed, sweetheart.”

She sighed contentedly, already slipping back into sleep as he carried her upstairs. After tucking her in, he noticed her water bottle was empty and picked it up to fill it in the kitchen.

When Max made his way to the kitchen, he found Lando leaning against the counter, tidying up a canister of cocoa powder.

“Lando?” Max said, his brow furrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Lando turned, his usual smirk firmly in place. “Emergency call.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Emergency?”

“Your kid called me in a panic because you’re apparently out of hot chocolate powder. Thought the world was ending.” Lando chuckled, placing the canister in its rightful spot. “I brought some over, but they knocked out before I could even make it.”

Max let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Thanks. I owe you.”

Lando waved a hand dismissively. “No big deal. I live for the drama. Besides, it’s Stella. She’s got me wrapped around her finger.”

Max smiled, grateful for his friend’s unwavering presence. “Get home. You’ve done enough.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando said, grabbing his coat. “Good luck with her, though.” He gestured vaguely toward the living room with a knowing look before heading out.

Filling up the water bottle and putting it back in its place Max returned to the living room, finding her still sound asleep on the sofa. The TV had switched to a dim, idle screen, and her breathing was soft and even.

He crouched down beside her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. For someone so fierce and guarded, she looked almost fragile like this. Vulnerable.

Without a second thought, he slipped his arms under her, lifting her gently. She stirred, her head naturally finding its place against his chest.

“Max?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

“It’s me,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

She shifted slightly, nuzzling closer into him. “Thank you,” she whispered, barely audible.

His heart twisted at the simple words, and he tightened his hold on her instinctively.

“Always,” he said softly, carrying her upstairs.

When he reached his room, he laid her down carefully on the bed, pulling the blankets over her. She murmured something incoherent, her lips curving into a faint smile.

Max stood there for a moment, watching her as she drifted back into deep sleep. The weight of the night’s events pressed on him, but so did the warmth of knowing she was safe, here in his home, with his family.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like he wasn’t just protecting someone—it felt like he was building something

the end.

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[ninguitar]

୨୧　𝓜Y KIND OF WOMAN　˒˒　KCW

─── ﹙🎀﹚everyone—fans, idols, and tv hosts—always found you to be drop-dead gorgeous, their heads snapping at the mere presence of you, and your girlfriend, kim chaewon did, too. nonetheless, that didn't stop the animate, child-like pout on the korean girl's face that proved her jealousy.

pairing. kim chaewon x idol f!r (not in lsf) genre. fluff wc. 1k+ notes. jealous kcw my baefy i fear 💔 req here !! ( MASTERLIST )

now playing ⋆ my kind of woman by mac demarco

YOUR HAND CUPS CHAEWON'S JAW, your thumb tracing over her pouty lips, as a giggle escapes your breath, "you're pouting, chae." shortly, you press a kiss against the top of her head, nudging her shoulder playfully.

"i'm not even pouting," chaewon mumbles, not even caring to face your gaze, as she crosses her arms against her chest, sulking in a random corner of the dorms, away from the overbearing chatter of idols gushing over your new comeback with your respective group.

you sigh, "you don't need to be jealous, chae; it's only you, always has been," you try to reassure the girl, snorting as you do so. you lightly nudge her shoulder, a tender smile cracking through your lips, as you berate the girl for her sheer idiocy at thinking you would ever put anybody above her.

"jealous?" she huffs, her voice cracking a bit, jerking her hand away from you, as she almost stills. her eyes fixate on you, hurt displayed in them, your words obviously bruising her poor ego. facing you, that same child-like pout remains on her face, making your gaze soften.

god, no matter how silly the korean girl was, you couldn't help but feel pity for her, especially when she pouts.

"yes, jealous, chae," a sigh drifts from your lips, as your eyes glaze over her lips, more specifically her pout. your hand cups her jaw, simply shaking your head, "lighten up, baby." you press a tender kiss against chaewon's temples, your hand drawing circles on her shoulder unconsciously.

you knew why the korean girl was jealous; practically anybody focusing on her could tell. you always assured her that it would only ever be her in your heart, her name practically etched in it. you were her girl, and vice-versa.

nestled between one of your members and another idol who was your inkigayo host partner, you stood tall, your ring-clad hand firmly gripping onto a mic. it was just another music bank event, where you were the mc for the next few months.

your eyes stayed glued to the camera standing in front of you, waiting for it to start rolling. a faux smile plastered on your face, as you meekly conversed with your mc partner, muttering small, short answers.

afar stood a jealous chaewon, her eyes locked onto your figure. her jaw clenched in slight panic, tracing your every moves, too over-consumed by her envy to even notice your lack of comfort. the lack of you makes her heart cold, as she leans against the wall, impatiently waiting for the cameras to roll, too, hoping it'd abruptly interrupt the conversation between you and your partner.

her eyes narrowed slightly, an obvious hint of jealousy flickering in her gaze. without any thoughts, the korean girl strode over to you, a similar faux smile adorning her face, too. she tapped your shoulder, making you slightly shudder, your cheeks flushed.

"do you know when it'll start broadcasting?" chaewon meekly muttered, a grin tugging the corners of her lips, as she leaned closer to you. before you could reply, you watched the korean girl send a glare at your mc partner, making a quiet giggle escape your breath.

"you don't even know what you're saying; i'm not jealous," she deflects in mock offense, a grunt escaping her throat, as the korean girl's gaze wanders to everywhere but you, as though she had no interest in you. her lips unconsciously jut further in a pout, making a series of giggles escape you.

"okay- okay, fine, you're not jealous, then," you know chaewon was being dramatic—hell, the girl was usually dramatic when it comes to situations like this. your eyes flicker to her arms, noticing the way they're clenched at her sides, practically itching to wrap them around your shoulders and hold onto you for eternity.

"this is about musicbank, isn't it?" you murmur, pulling the korean girl even closer to you, as your hand entangles itself in her hair, your other hand cupping her jaw still. it traces over her cheeks, your eyes mesmerized with her makeup and features.

chaewon's eyes narrow at your face, irritation painting it. your words ring over and over again in her head, making her withdraw your hand off her jaw. nonetheless, you hold the girl gently, a stark contrast to the look in the korean girl's gaze.

"shut up," she murmurs under her breath, her eyes squinting further at your words, and she couldn't be more obvious with the still as prominent pout on her lips, "she was looking at you weirdly," referring to your host partner.

her words prompt a chuckle from you, "we're friends—that's all, pretty," as you bring your hand back to chaewon's chin, your hand snug and secure, "she's just a work friend—not somebody i hang out with on the regular."

the korean girl frowns at your words, meekly nodding, as she states bitterly, "still—everybody could tell she wanted you." her eyebrows furrow in irritation, though nonetheless, she eases into her touch, her weight against yours.

although you knew of the girl's tendency to get even a bit jealous by small things, nothing would've made you assume that at a small, uncomfortable conversation with your music bank partner would make the korean girl bitter and jealous. you didn't intend to make her jealous, but that didn't mean you didn't like relentlessly teasing her for her jealousy.

"no more talkin' to whatever her name is," chaewon mutters against your ear, her breath fanning over it. you could hear how bruised her pride was just by her voice. you meekly nod, holding the korean girl tenderly, as you brush your hands through her hair.

"she's not as cute as i am—right?" she grumbles, making a series of giggles escaping your breath. before you could humor her, chaewon captures your lips with hers, fervently pressing them against yours. her hands slip themselves around your waist, drawing patterns at your lower back.

"always, c'mon, y'know that," you humor her, "especially with your pouts." your lips surge against hers, pressing long, searing kisses against them. the korean girl's hands continue to draw circles on your lower back softly, a cheeky grin on her face.

"my kind of woman," chaewon drawls, pouring all her attention towards you.

and i'm down on my hands and knees

beggin' you please baby

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@jellaaa @artrizzler19 @falling-intoo-deep

[takes1]

p.2 kuroo x hard to get!reader

i'm rlly glad everyone likes this as much as i do lmao

warnings. nsfw, minors DNI

details. m!masturbation / jerkin it in the shower / pining!kuroo / unrequited?crush / hard to get!reader / manager!reader / training camp setting / implied degradation kink / implied play fighting thing / kuroo is a switch / kuroo with a big...ego / player!kuroo / 1.7k words - maybe a sneaky link part three? reply to be tagged

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu here. part one. next part. requests open.

After today, the only way Kuroo would be able to handle so many confusing signals and unwanted emotions was to carve out some time in the shower and 'work it all out.'

"F-uck," Came out way whinier than he expected it to.

He pushed his furrowed brow into his forearm, a scowl carved into his mouth at the sound.

The tension there faded fast.

What the fuck was your problem? Was there some cosmic rule that prevented pretty girls from being nice?

He wracked his brain to remember that one little moment you smiled. How it softened that mean-ass pout you held so well, made you look leagues more approachable. Maybe that was why something had possessed him to point it out and ruin it so quickly.

For now, stuck like a picture in his mind, it wouldn't fade so fast.

But the tightness stuck across his stomach softened, and so did the edge he had worked up.

"Mm-hn," He smiled, lifting his head from the nook of his elbow with a small chuckle.

Maybe that didn't do as much for him as your frown, after all.

Thinking about that sweet, preoccupied moment made him feel a little more guilty for beating it to you. You looked too sweet to fuck with. At least when you treated him like a dog, it was like you both had a shared understanding of what he was really doing. He didn't have to hide it or lie; he wanted you, and you played it off like you weren't into it.

That was the problem.

He seethed, palm stalled for a moment before he let himself go.

With slow, sobering effort, he flipped around to lean back on the tiled wall. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the shower door and couldn't comprehend why you didn't find him attractive enough.

A lifted, bulky arm revealed an impressive array of serratus muscles in the foggy glass, little abdomen lines dipped and crossed and dove down to his v-taper. The guys always joked that he was could pursue a career in modelling if this volleyball thing didn't work out, save for the messy hair; he knew he wasn't some ugly, sniveling little loser-- so why didn't you act like he was?

He puffed out a harsh, frustrated sigh and pumped himself with a frown.

Were you playing around, just teasing him, and playing hard to get? Or did you, for some inconceivable reason, not want him back?

Shit, at this rate, he started to question if he'd be able to cum with no clear answer.

Then that fucking voice of yours, calculated but honeyed, was in his ear- ringing against the shower walls, echoing his name. It wasn't nice, it wasn't real, but it was hot.

A warm huff at the fantasy.

His cock twitched against his grip and leaked clear at the tip, more interested in the image of your perfect tits squished up under that clipboard when you verbally degraded him in front of his rival.

As his hand did an okay job at pumping out the stress of today, his gaze, though hesitant, softened. His jaw relaxed, lips parted, and in the process caught a bit of excess water.

Shit, did he like that?

Your callous, narrowed, and judgey eyes really got him worked up. He spat the mixture of extra water and drool onto himself, gasping at how much better it felt when he pretended it was yours.

If that's all you wanted, just to make him feel less than- well, you were hot enough to roleplay for. He'd be down for something like that if that was all he could get.

He kept a steady pace, breath shallowed and faster, to the thought of you calling him some dirty little nobody who liked beating it to you (it wouldn't be entirely wrong). How disappointed would you be when he came too quick, all because he couldn't handle your tight little pussy?

You could use him all night 'till you came. He bit the inside of his cheek and sighed, shaky, through his nose.

Yeah, you didn't seem like the type to just lay down and take it.

That was alright with him. He liked sexually liberated women. A little play-fighting, some dirty talk- if you just got off your high horse for one second, he could make it worth your while.

He knew you loved the chase. You wouldn't be watching him so hard at the match if you actually thought he wasn't worth your time. Just one night couldn't have possibly been beneath you.

"Fu-ckfuckfuck," He laughed, seething at how quickly he could edge himself to that bitchy pout of yours, especially the one you'd give him if you found out what he was doing right now.

All you wanted was the power that came with being a stuck-up prude - to feel less dirty than guys like him. At least he had the courage to initiate something.

But at the end of the day, nothing about stroking his cock to you in a shower felt courageous.

Decency and pride aside, he was able to cum hard to the fresh memory of you in that wet t-shirt, watching him absolutely kill that match.

-

In the aftermath, he was a bit standoffish with the team.

The nature of his jack-off session left him feeling nastier than usual. He didn't want anyone clinging on him, or standing too close. Like somehow they would smell how filthy his imagination had decomposed into.

He was successful, not because of how good his evasion skills were, but because the guys were too hungry, preoccupied with cooking, and equipped with no substantial mass-food-prep experience. It was a rowdy kitchen and relatively empty everywhere else.

So he was slumped over the entire couch, wearing only plaid pajama pants and house slippers, watching videos on his phone with glazed eyes.

A knock at the door went ignored.

He popped his head over the couch to see if anyone else was going to answer the second time, but was only met with distant yelling about the rice cooker. Yamamoto hadn't plugged it in like he thought 20 minutes ago, and a stranger might assume he was about to get executed.

Kuroo paused the match on his phone and hopped over the back of the couch. He realized it was raining outside when he touched the cold doorknob and quickly opened it without looking through the peephole.

He looked forward, left, then right- then down. Surprise left his lips through an uncontrollable laugh.

"Sorry-!" He snickered, "Didn't see you there."

It's not like you were exceptionally tiny, but he was expecting Bokuto, if anyone, and especially not a girl.

You weren't laughing. He cleared his throat and rubbed the side of his damp head with an awkward sigh.

The little overhang on the porch was enough to keep you dry as you spoke, so there was no rush.

"I thought the other teams could use this. I made too many," You explained, only offering him a dull tone as you tried not to stare at his shredded body, "Pork buns."

He took the bag slowly, first interested because he was starving, and after a moment, then that you cooked.

"There should be enough for everyone."

"Thank you," He said right away, glancing up to you, at the bag, then back at you.

It was cute. His uncertainty brought a small smile to your face. You covered it up by toying with your jacket collar, and looking down at his pink slippers.

Outside was cold, and wet, and the wind was harsh when it blew every twenty seconds. His first thought was to invite you inside, flirty but well-meaning for the most part, but an instant pang of post-nut guilt, as well as some classical conditioning from earlier today, kept his lips sealed.

You watched a narrative play out on his pretty face. If he wasn't going to keep this up, even after you 'accidentally' made too many pork buns, you figured it was too much effort now.

A sweeter, more natural tone was in your farewell, "Goodnight--,"

"Wait."

He shot his hand out low for a second but took it back almost as quickly.

You stood, turned on your heel, waiting for him. It was what he wanted, but not quite right. His heart skipped, causing his hands to tighten, knuckles white and cold.

A sigh you could barely hear over the rain picking up, "Never mind."

Your eyes ran over his struggling form. He was broken in, the way you wanted, but not quite right. You decided there was no value in teasing him with your presence any longer, so you looked away from the mess you had both made of him.

"Goodnight." The door closed.

Not too hard, not too soft, but in just a way that emphasized more need to clarify why he didn't just slam it, if he was going to close it at all.

There were a number of reasons you hesitated at the top step, watching the rain grow heavier and crash onto the grass, spill over the gutters and flood the sidewalk. It was getting darker and colder by the second. What was so wrong with him? You couldn't quite remember now.

He stood with his forehead on the other side of the door, face twisted with the pain of a shot not taken- but, probably better off than humiliating himself for no good reason anymore. A powerful shame was overwhelming his desire to eat any of the pork buns in his hand.

When he straightened, a long sigh verbalizing the painful movement, he was about to call out for dinner--

You knocked again. Three times, softer in volume, but a loud gesture nonetheless.

The door opened to reveal his shocked, searching expression. There was a roll of thunder.

"Can you... walk me back?"

♕VIP♕

@integers @yuchacco

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[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism Boys - Meeting Your Parents

G/N. Headcanons on what your parents would think. Goo, Jake, Gun, Samuel, Ryuhei. Masterlists

Both are absolutely two sides of the same coin. Either way, your parents will be so charmed by Goo or Jake that they wish they were the ones dating him instead.

Goo is hilarious. In a mean bitchy way, that even though he is laughing at other people rather than with - he's laughing with your parents at other people so this slips pass their radar.

They are caught up with his quips and sharp tongue and honeyed words that they happily go along with this ride, trading numerous inside jokes by the end of the meeting, giggling together like a bunch of school children.

It helps that he's also dressed head to toe in hard to miss designer labels, and brings lavish gifts for them too. No, their affection and approval can't be bought but well, it doesn't hurt to try.

Jake is the son your parents wish they had, insult to their actual sons be damned. Or the person they wish they had met if they were twenty years younger, sexuality be damned.

And yes, Jake would pull out the cheesy lines like (gesturing to your mother) "Y/N, you didn't tell me you had a sister!" and dad jokes to your own dad. He would be so insufferably charming about it that it would inevitably work and win them over in no time at all.

Unlike Goo, so what if Jake's finances are tight right now? And his prospects are a little questionable? He clearly loves you and is a Good Guy. You two are young, he can work that out in due course.

There's a powerful aura emitting from Gun and your parents don't know what to make of it. Is it ok that you're seemingly with this dangerous man? With the unusual eyes and scar between his eyes?

This would have put their backs up more but Gun, to your surprise, is capable of showing exceptional manners. He is super respectful in their presence. Deep bows, good etiquette, and formal honorifics. They can't help but be reassured that if he is this respectful of them, then surely he will be of you.

Gun's demeanour is generally stiff and serious. He's quiet and doesn't talk much, though they don't miss the way he softens when he looks at you. Nor his patience when you revert back to being a sulky child when you're in your parent's presence too long.

They approve, mostly. But will always be a little uneasy around Gun.

At first glance, or first meeting, Samuel is clearly a guy that thinks a lot about himself. Unfortunately it shows to your parents too.

To his credit, his ego and confidence is inflated but the way he treats you is surprisingly tender. And despite the pedestal he sometimes likes to put himself on, he puts you on an even higher pedestal. Which can be both positive and negative. To your parents though, it's good that he obviously treats you well.

Sammy does turn on the charm a little, walking the thin line between flattering and smarmy - a bit like how he is with Eugene. Most of all, your parents are impressed with his prospects (something Jake, unfortunately, lacks).

Excellent career prospects, property, assets, finance. Even if he is a bit up his own ass, at least he can look after you.

Ryuhei has never ever met a partner's parent, and it shows with how tense he is. A complete surprise for you to see your happy-go-lucky puppy so anxious.

He relaxes each time you give him a small smile or squeeze his hand in a comforting gesture.

Your parents, to be honest, don't think much of him. Not to say they think he's bad for you, they just don't form much of an opinion of him during the first meeting.

The second meeting, however: 'Poor guy,' your parents think. He is wrapped around your finger and he's too head over heels to even kick up a fuss whenever you're being unreasonable or bratty.

He tries to charm them, which is a bit hit and miss but it's so so obvious how much he adores you and hangs on to your every word that even they become a bit worried about his well being and you taking advantage of him.

Not that you would... maybe.

[verysium]

some thought on us/reader/yn (i don’t know how to address it lol 😭) and seeing ex-boyfriend, who preferably myb cheated and now is dump struck how we got a new boyfriend/it’s been some time since last seeing ex)

um.....i'm assuming the bllk boys are the new boyfriend for this. hopefully, that's what you meant, but here you go anon:

kaiser absolutely thrives off this situation. this is the perfect chance to stroke his ego, so he's going to take full advantage of it. definitely notices your ex before you do and tugs you closer, arm wrapped around your waist, nose buried in your hair. obviously, you can't see his facial expression, but you can tell by the way he's smirking that he's definitely up to no good. when your ex finally realizes that your new boyfriend is THE michael kaiser, he's like... 😏 that's right bitch. keep ogling. y/n's doing so much better without you. even better if your ex is actually a fan of kaiser. his sadistic ass will not let that go. you want my autograph or something? oh wait...sorry i don't give out autographs to losers. deliberately sets out on a mission to make your ex's day an absolute hell, and he's smug about it too. once your ex is gone, he looks back and asks...so did i do good? no, you don't need to thank me. i'm already thanking myself. (he's so stupid....i love him.)

sae's reaction is encapsulated in one word. side-eye. he won't actually say anything, but the judgmental aura leeching off him is already enough to send your ex running in the opposite direction. i don't even think your interaction is going to last more than one minute because sae is just so intimidating. the entirety of japan already knows who he is, and compared to him, your ex is an absolute nobody. poor guy will probably never recover especially after seeing you and sae on the front of every tabloid, magazine, and news channel. his ego is broken, masculinity in ruins, reputation in tatters. and honestly.....serves him right.

rin holds an even stronger grudge than you do. he never lets any personal slight go without consequence. probably still holding every single mistake your ex has made in the past five years over his head. what did you even see in him? he's a lukewarm piece of shit. again....like sae, i don't think you would even need to say anything because rin's death glare already says enough.

shidou needs a restraining order because i don't think your ex is going to make it out alive. probably goes straight for the throat too. he genuinely enjoys seeing other people in pain whether physically or emotionally. will probably make out with you right in front of your ex just to fuck with his mind a little bit. hand placement is key. he places one hand behind your head and the other one grasps your ass. uses a lot of tongue. leaves you winded with starry eyes and swollen lips before he maniacally grins at your ex. he definitely enjoyed that a little too much.

barou has a quiet but menacing aura. he's very tall, so i think he would likely tower over your ex. and uh...have you seen his physique? he would probably cross his arms, and his biceps would bulge, and he would whisper in the lowest, most chilling tone: you got a fucking problem? and that's about all it takes because your ex may be a wimp but at least he has enough self-preservation to know you don't mess with someone like barou. probably kisses you on the forehead after that and his voice softens just tad...you okay, baby? (dfhkjsdhf i just blushed)

nagi wouldn't really care. nothing fazes him, especially not your ex because he's in the past now and that makes him irrelevant. but he definitely does not back down from subtly throwing some insults. oh...him? he's just y/n's ex. a weak guy not worth the hassle. don't bother. if your ex is stupid enough to actually confront him though....he's not going to hold back. shut up. you sure bark a lot for someone with no bite. pet store's two blocks away. maybe you should check out a new collar. lmao nagi can be painfully rude when he wants to be.

[kurokawaia]

❛ HIS PRAISE ❜

Tomioka Giyuu X Fem!Reader

WC; 1.1k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; fem reader! reader is slightly timid and shy? use of good girl, praise, praise, praiseeeeeeee, oral -> male receiving, implied cock warming in da throat, slight throat fucking? the things that would happen to me if I got praised by this man :3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Could you please do Giyuu with a s/o with a MASSIVE praise kink? Like, just complimenting her gets her all hot and bothered, and giyuu doesn't even realize it at first, but then eventually clocks on and just gets a huge ego boost🤭 he even gets michevious and uses it to his advantage during bed AND in other places..👀 - ANON

m.list | demon slayer m.list

Everybody knew you and Giyuu were together, and they always thought about how someone as timid, outgoing and not stoic as you are compared to Giyuu, managed to fall for each other. Giyuu will always be reserved, but he does have a way of making you feel special in soft ways. But, what you have never thought to anticipate, was how what he says to you would affect you how deeply it does.

It had started innocently enough.

You were out in the yard of your shared house, perfecting your breathing techniques, when Giyuu walked by.  You obviously noticed his presence, your body and mind were always on high alert, and you had a Giyuu detector LMA-. You were in the middle of this one particular move that was just not getting easier when you caught his gaze. 

He paused, watching you with his usual eyes, but his eyes were always soft when looking at you, but then he spoke. "You're doing great," he said, in a low tone. "Your form is almost perfect." The praise was simple, and yet a quiver ran down your spine. Your heart skipped a beat, and the heat crawled up to your neck. You tried brushing it off, focusing again on your training, but the more you thought about it, the more flustered you became. And with time came a pattern. For every time Giyuu praised you-whether it was your strength, your kindness, or something as silly as the way you brewed your tea-you just couldn't help it, quickening your pulse. It was in that intonation of his voice, the sincerity lacing it, the softening of his eyes whenever he looked at you. At first, Giyuu didn't catch on, still quietly praising you as he normally would and not usually catching on to the fact that it affected you in the slightest. But soon, he started to catch on. He started to notice the flush of your cheeks, the catch of your breath, and the way you seemed almost...distracted whenever he said something kind. It was in the evening, when you were both sitting before the fire after a long day, that Giyuu decided to test the theory in his mind. You were talking of your day in a happy, light mood when he interrupted you. "You're amazing, you know that?"  You blinked, words faltering at his sudden interrupting of your yapping. "W-what?" Giyuu slightly leaned a little closer and his lips tugged upwards into a small teasing smile, a smile only you got to see. "You are amazing, the way you do everything, push yourself in this manner, it's... incredible." Your face burned, and you bit your lip to keep it all in, but the way he looked at you, the subtle dip of his voice just that much lower was too much. The pooling heat in your stomach became too much to bear, and you shifted in your seat, aka, Giyuu's lap. And it was then that Giyuu's smirk only widened farther at the realization that he was right, and he'd never seen you so flustered, so vulnerable, and for some reason, it made him feel a heat inside him. "You like it when I praise you, don't you?" he asked in a voice barely over a whisper. You couldn't find the words to respond, you only nodded, were wide-eyed, your breath coming in short, and you had shallow gasps. Giyuu's eyes had turned dark as he moved in closer, his lips grazing your ear. "Good girl," he whispered. Those words alone ran a streak of electricity down your spine, and absolutely nothing could be done to impede the tiny gasp that escaped your lips. Giyuu pulled back just enough to see your reaction, and at the sight of you so undone by his words, his heart pounded in his chest. He chuckled low, his tone pleased, happy that he got that reaction from you. "I think I'm going to enjoy this," he said, lowly. "And I think you will too. From then on, it became Giyuu's mission to push your limits with what he said. He would praise you at the most unlikely moments, and his voice, laced with that teasing note that only you and only you can pick up, it would send your knees jellylike every time. 

You wanted him to catch you in his arms and please you until the sun came up, god, the feeling that welled inside you when he praised you was insatiable, you always craved more. Every time you were flushing or stammering that heat bubbled inside him, you were so cute and you were his. But...it wasn't about the praise anymore, but rather the fact that he could control your reaction, and melt you with just a few well-placed words. The more he did that, the more confident he became, and that once-reserved nature gave way to a more playful, dominant side. And you? You were completely at his mercy, unable to fight the feeling his voice, words, and presence brought you. Though that frustrated you, red in the face, squirming in your seat, you couldn't help but like it-love it. And Giyuu was more than happy to give you just what you wanted as your lips were tightly wrapped around his throbbing shaft as it was nudged down your warm throat.

You were trying to take him as deep as you could without gagging on his cock, using your hand to jerk off the reminder that didn't fit into your mouth. Giyuu's moans grew louder before he struggled to maintain a still stature. Giyuu began to move your head through the tuffs of your hair, your movements not your own as you removed your hand and let him take control.

He moans, "Feel so good, you're such a good girl, taking me so well."

Your panties just became more soaked than they already were as you moaned helplessly on his cock at the praise and a breathy laugh left his throat, and it made your tummy tingle. 

When you take him carelessly and put him into your mouth, tears well up in the doe's eyes. Your cunt was soaking wetter by the moment, and the whimpers coming out of his mouth made it even more likely that he would soak your pants.

Giyuu started moving more quickly, which made you start crying even more. When you hollowed out your cheeks, he let out a stifled sigh that made him hesitate to approach further. He pulls away from you, his load spilling into your mouth.

A groan leaves his moan as he stroked your head lovingly, "Oh, you're so good, such a good girl, good for me."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[leighbaye]

🖤 ₊˚⊹ — make up

parring ➵ draco malfoy x m!reader

summary ➵ you like to fuck with him, just to make up with him.

warnings ➵ slight suggestive language/content!

age parring ➵ 17 - 18

extra ➵ slytherin & dominate reader. credits to @cafekitsune for banners!

many peers from any house can presume that your relationship with malfoy was endearing. unexpected definitely, but truely endearing.

dating draco was a bit difficult, he is arrogant, stubborn, has an extremely high ego, one prejudiced son of a bitch, and he constantly refuses to be manhandled in front of his fellow slytherins’.

one particular day, you had just entered the familiar common room after a long day of studying for a upcoming exam coming up later that same week.

you had also made the trip for another reason other than to study, to get your mind of your brat of a boyfriend.

but we aren’t gonna tell him are we?

you entered slumping on a arm chair, pulling our parchment after parchment of notes splattered with jet black ink.

around this time of the year, the common room being not full was expected due to exams.

you sighed and rested your chin on top of your hand. draco locking eyes with you as he came up to you.

❝ hey (l/n) ❞ he whispered as he sat his pretty little self on top of the arm rest.

you only looked up at him and raised your eyebrows as you got back to reviewing your work.

he began blabbing about harry potter, as usual. that would’ve never gotten you bothered but it was almost as if he was more interested and concerned about him more than his own boyfriend.

you groaned, proving that you weren’t listening to him.

❝ hey, what in merlin’s name is wrong with you? ❞

you scoffed as you discarded your parchments and dragged him down onto your lap, wrapping your arm around his waist. he yelped in looked around the room in habit.

❝ you constantly talk about harry, it pisses me off draco. ❞

he gulped, eyebrows furrowed, and looking down at your lips moving as you had more to say.

❝ besides you did the thing, where you check to see if anyone is around when i try to be affectionate with you! ❞

you began scolding him, he tried touching you to see if that were to able to calm you down. to no avail.

you snatched his wrist before he can touch your face.

❝look at you now, all hot and bothered.❞ you smirked as he huffed and tried to get off you.

that resulted in you propping him up, holding him up with you hands on his ass.

❝ h-huh? ❞ he gasped in response, wrapping his legs around your waist. also holding you tightly around your neck not wanting to embarrass himself anymore longer.

❝ stop it, your being annoying right now! ❞ he yelped out in a whine.

❝ draco’s so cute when he’s angry isn’t he? ❞ you teased him as you made it to your dorm dropping him into your bed getting on top of him in the process.

❝ stop it now! ❞ he growls.

you yanked on his blonde locks, forcing him to face you and you began.

❝ stop mentioning potter like he is your boyfriend you bitch boy malfoy. ❞ you scoffed at him, using his surname for extra measure.

his gaze softened as he looked up at you lips trembling, nodding profusely not wanting to anger you anymore.

❝ mhm! ❞ he whimpers, expressing his discomfort with your hair pulling.

you let go and grab his chin, adoring the cute little features draco was blessed with.

❝ you’re gorgeous yknow that? ❞ you smile at his watering eyes.

you turn him over, now him on top of you, your hand roaming under his robes.

you grabbed his chin with your other free hand and kissed him. draco melted.

he leaned forward accepting the kiss, heat rushing down his cheeks. your chests pressed together.

you only escalated by placing your hands on his ass, as you groped them.

let’s just say he never brought up the chosen one again.

୨⎯ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡 ⎯୧

[mypoisonedvine]

Please please please do emperor Geta 🙏 maybe a dubcon situation where he uses his power over you, and "you heard me, take it off" but I would literally take anything of him ❤

i've been waiting for my turn to write this little freak i need him!!

warnings: SMUT! 18+ only!!, dubcon/noncon, a slap, a bit of public stuff/exhibitionism kinda, virgin!reader (she's a priestess so also mild religious themes), fingering, overall he's The Worst

"You heard me," he spat. "Take it off!"

And you had heard him, of course, but you didn't quite believe it. He knew you were no concubine or courtesan-- a high priestess hardly receives orders from mortals-- yet he ordered you around like any peasant. Spoiled fucking child he was...

"Now."

You nervously glanced at the guard detail surrounding you both; even if they weren't here, you were probably bound to his orders regardless, but it still felt absurd. In your own temple, which he'd cleared out in the middle of the day while people were praying and making sacrifices, he tells you to take off your robe. Does this man really have no decorum, no respect for sanctity?

"Don't test my patience, you will find it lacking," Geta warned. He was your emperor, you knew to disobey him was death, but most emperors were also worshippers-- they would do what you said, knowing it was a command from the gods.

Conflicted but unwilling to make him wait longer in case he made good on his threat, you unclasped the clip holding your robe at your shoulder, and the belt around your waist: then, it was all just fabric at your feet, and you were bare before him.

He had that hungry smile on his face, the one that curled his upper lip and bared his teeth while he flared his nostrils; you tried not to let any fear or discomfort show on your face, knowing he would only prey on it more.

Technically, there was nothing wrong with him seeing you (even if it felt wrong, especially with a bunch of royal guards here as well), but priestesses were not to be touched. Ever. So when he stepped forward and reached for you, you instinctively smacked his hand away.

He pressed his lips together and, about ten times harder than you'd smacked him, hit you on the face. Your head spun and you instantly held your cheek-- only for him to grab your wrist and yank it hard, pulling you towards him as you yelped, exposing your stinging skin.

"You think I won't hurt you?" he growled. "Just because you're chosen by the gods? So was I-- except that you were chosen to read dusty old scrolls. I was chosen to rule!"

He dropped your wrist but you kept your face turned, tears beginning to run over it slowly; he brought his hand to your jaw, tilting it back and petting it as he got a good look at you.

"Mm, I think that'll leave a mark," he noticed, sounding quite proud of it.

But then that hand trailed down, fingers tracing along the front of your body-- eyes still trained on your face, which you willed not to show your fear.

And he cupped you between the legs somewhat roughly, exploring you until he found your entrance. When he shoved a finger inside, then you couldn't suppress a reaction, a wince to the unexpected intrusion. Apparently not satisfied with only a small amount of pain from you, he put another one inside and snarled as he pushed them both deep into you.

Yelping softly through your teeth, you shut your eyes tight and found yourself grabbing onto his robe, forehead dropping onto his shoulder.

"You really are untouched," he marveled with a grin. "Or, you were."

He twisted the fingers and you shuddered, the sting only worsened by his mocking laugh as he watched you struggle. "Please, my emperor," you hissed softly, wondering if an appeal to his ego would soften him at all, "I-I won't disobey you, but please don't--"

He curled his fingers harder inside you, making your legs shake: you had to hold onto him just to stay upright. "Don't, what? Fuck you?" he assumed. "But don't you think it would be funny? A defiled oracle, once revered and protected, made into just another toy for the emperor? Used and tossed aside with the other cheap whores?"

He snorted; he really found it amusing, the idea of ruining you just because he could. Yeah, sounds hilarious-- you're a real fucking comedian.

"I won't do it," he decided as he took his fingers out of you, making you breathe a sigh of relief-- just for a moment. "Not here, at least. I'll be kind and take you to the palace first."

You looked up at him with wide eyes. "No-- please!" you begged. "I won't go-- you can't take me--!"

But his guards descended on you in an instant, restraining your arms with hardly any notice of your attempt to fight back, and on his command they dragged you from the temple and into his chariot. None of them seemed to mind that they were taking the oracle of the city hostage, naked, right there in the open streets. Citizens and worshippers watched in horror, but they were just as helpless as you to the emperor's whims.

"Now now, don't cry," he cooed darkly as he wiped a tear off of your injured face. "I won't be too cruel to you, once you've learned to obey."

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Regret |3|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You were living in New York with your girlfriend, trying to forget about last year and just enjoy life, but that was easier said than done. (Sequel to A Legacies Secret)

Warnings: Murder, Gunshots, Knife Wounds

Word Count: 2.8k

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | A Legacies Secret Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You watched the TV in horror as the news reporter continued to go on about a murder that had taken place earlier in the night, seemingly by Ghostface. You really hoped this was all just a coincidence, you were never that lucky though. You looked over at Tara, despite your argument earlier, your hand instantly found hers when the news came on, almost as if it were natural. If Ghostface was really back then you didn’t care what kind of psycho took up the mantle this time around, you vowed to never let anyone hurt Tara ever again and you intend to honor that.

“Did you know them?” You asked when a picture of two boys who went to college with Tara was shown on screen.

“Yeah,” Tara said mindlessly. She got a little crinkle in her brow, which you always found adorable. “They’re in my film class.”

You furrowed your brow; it seemed the two boys on screen killed one of their professors and had a shrine dedicated to Ghostface. You weren’t sure if those kids were just big fans of the movies and when they saw Tara in their class, they decided to live out some sick fantasy or if they planned it. You wouldn’t put it past one of those psychos who thought it was okay to dress up like a serial killer to stalk the survivors of past attacks and follow them wherever they moved, going so far as to enroll in college with their intended victim.

Whatever the boys’ plans was didn’t matter anymore, considering someone had killed them as well. There didn’t seem to be a lot of info on the two kids’ deaths, but the media seemed to think it was the work of Ghostface. You weren’t sure that had ever happened before, different Ghostface competing against each other. Most Ghostface seemed to work with a partner, even if said partners eventually tried to kill each other they never started off on different sides.

If another Ghostface was out there and actually did kill those kids, you wondered what their play was. You weren’t sure what the plan of the college kids was either, but the shrine seemed to indicate they were just some psycho fans. This other Ghostface though, he could be anyone, if he killed the two boys who seemed intent on taking over the mantle then it was probably because he had something bigger planned. It was still yet to be decided if the new guy had an ego and just didn’t want the competition or if he didn’t want what seemed to be a couple of amateurs getting in his way.

“He was weird,” Tara whispered, breaking you out of your thoughts. “But he was nice.”

Your gaze softened at her words, you knew how hard it was for her to make new friends. You and Sam might have been a tad bit protective of Tara, so much so that Sam wouldn’t let anyone new come into the apartment without being vetted first. Anika was the first exception, even before Ethan, who was chads roommate. It was a long process, usually involving a lot of questioning and Sam glaring. Tara hadn’t met anyone who was willing to put up with that yet though, anyone she talked about from school seemed to just be people she met in class and chatted with.

You never even bothered trying to make new friends, which maybe said more about you than anything, but you weren’t about to wander down that path. Anika seemed to be the exception though, she was Mindy’s girlfriend but always made sure to include you. You weren’t sure how much you’d classify Anika as a friend, it wasn’t like the two of you hung out just the two of you, but she was nice and didn’t seem to have any judgment or opinion about you already formed, you didn’t have to fight for her approval or prove that you were good enough for Tara with her.

“We need to leave,” Sam said, once again breaking your thoughts and what was otherwise an uneasy silence. “Pack your bags.”

“What?” Tara yelled, whipping around to face her sister. “No.”

“We can pick up Chad and Mindy on the way out of town.” You had to give it to Sam for trying to sell the idea, but she should have known that would never work with Tara.

“You can’t do this to me.”

“Tara-”

“No! We don’t even know if this is connected to us.” Tara looked back at you for some support and you opened your mouth, but no words came out. You would always support Tara, no matter what, but even you didn’t believe in coincidences this much. There was a flash of hurt on Tara’s face when you didn’t say anything, making you drop your eyes to the floor.

“Can’t we make sure this is actually him,” Tara pointed at the TV, which was now showing a picture of a Ghostface costume. “Before you completely uproot my life and derail my college education.”

You all jumped and spun around at the sound of a door creaking open. You released a shaky breath when you saw it was just Quinn. She stumbled out of her room, her robe clearly hastily thrown on, she was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with one hand while the other held out a phone to Sam.

“My dad wants to talk to you,” Quinn mumbled sleepily.

“I gotta go,” Sam said to whoever she was talking to before. “Stay together, stay safe, and don’t trust anyone.” You let out a small hum, she had most likely been talking to Mindy or Chad, which hopefully meant they were together, at least that way they’d stand a chance if Ghostface really was back.

Sam cautiously took the phone from Bailey and brought it to her ear. “Detective Bailey?” She asked, almost as if she didn’t fully believe that Quinn’s dad would be on the other end.

You watched Sam as she listened to whatever detective Bailey was telling her; you could see the way Sam’s frown only deepened with his words. “Okay,” she said. “I’m on my way.” With that she hung up and handed Quinn back her phone.

“What did he say?” Tara asked. Sam didn’t answer as she made her way across the room. “Is Ghostface back?” Sam grabbed her keys from the table by the door and began to slip on her jacket. “Where are you going?” Tara followed after her sister, and you followed after Tara.

“Detective Bailey needs me to come to the station,” Sam finally stopped and answered her sister. “He said they found my ID at the crime scene.” Sam let out a sigh and ran a hand through her hair, you couldn’t imagine how exhausting this all was for her.

You didn’t even want to begin to imagine what it meant that Sam’s ID was found at the crime scene. You remembered when Sam lost her ID, she had to spend nearly the whole day at the DMV to get a new one. The two kids could have gotten her ID for some reason, they had class with Tara, but they never had access to the apartment. That meant whoever the new Ghostface was somehow stole Sam’s ID without her ever knowing, whether that was by getting into the apartment or snagging her wallet while she was at work you didn’t know.

“Well, you’re not going alone,” Tara said, grabbing her own jacket.

“No,” Sam said, holding up her hand to keep Tara from following. “You’re staying here.” Sam glanced past Tara at you, silently begging you to agree with her and try and convince Tara to stay.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times and gave Sam an apologetic shrug. “I’ve never had much luck going off solo,” you said. The first time you left Tara’s side last year someone was killed right outside of your place of work, then the second time you yourself were attacked in your own apartment, and then there was the time you and Tara were left at the hospital. If you took anything away from the attacks last year it was that splitting up was never a good idea.

“Safety in numbers, yeah?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sam rolled her eyes as she ran a hand through her hair. “Fine,” Sam groaned. “But don’t leave my side,” she pointed her finger at Tara, giving her a knowing look.

You waited for Tara to agree to Sam’s terms, which she quickly did, though not without an eyeroll. The three of you left the apartment, with Sam making sure to lock all the locks and triple checking that everything was in fact locked. Sam didn’t seem to be wasting any time as she rushed down the several flights of stairs, with Tara right behind her and you doing your best to not fall behind.

As soon as you got out into the night you looked both ways, like you always did when you left the apartment. You weren’t even sure what time it was; you had no idea how much sleep you got, all you knew was that the sky was still dark and there were still people walking around.

You stayed close to Tara as Sam led the way. Sam slowly came to a stop and pulled out her phone. You furrowed your brow as you got closer and looked at Sam questioningly when you saw the name on the screen.

“What the hell,” Tara whispered.

“I never deleted his number,” Sam mumbled.

“Ignore it,” you said. You didn’t need to hear Ghostface’s voice over the phone to know he was back, the fact that Sam’s very dead boyfriend was calling her was proof enough for you.

Sam elected to ignore you and swiped to answer the phone. You held in your eye roll, no one ever listened to you, you should have really been used to it at this point. You couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation once again, but you watched Sam pace back and forth as she threatened whoever this new guy was.

You caught a blur of movement out of the side of your eye, you didn’t wait to see what it was, you just grabbed Tara and yanked her back. You hissed as you felt something slice across your arm. You quickly pulled your arm away, already seeing a stream of blood pouring down your arm.

Your eyes widened when you turned and saw Ghostface raising their knife again. He never got a chance to swing it at you though because Sam dealt a harsh kick to their stomach, then pushed him to the ground. “Run!” she called out.

The three of you took off down the street, not waiting around for him to recover. “There!” Sam pointed at a little bodega at the corner of the street.

The three of you ran across the street, ignoring traffic laws in the process. You didn’t look back, but you were sure Ghostface was already up and chasing after you again. Sam ripped open the door to the bodega, not bothering to apologize as she pushed the patrons that were standing in line back.

“You need to call the police,” Sam said.

There was a lot of shouting and arguing, the customers pushing their way back into line. Everyone went silent when a second later the door was flung open and Ghostface was standing there. You pushed Tara behind you and began nudging her backwards, further into the bodega. One of the men that was standing in line tried standing up to Ghostface, you weren’t sure if he was that confident or if he truly had no idea what he was getting into.

Ghostface didn’t bother entertaining the man though as he quickly swiped his knife across the man’s neck. The owner of the bodega whipped out a shotgun from underneath the counter and aimed it at Ghostface.

“Back here!” Sam called out. You glanced back to see Sam was running to the door at the back of the building. You and Tara followed after her but were quickly stopped as the door was locked. “Keys!” Sam ran back towards the owner, who instantly tossed her the keys.

You stood behind Tara, with Sam in front of her as she tried to unlock the door. You kept your eyes on the commotion at the front of the store. The owner had fired a couple shots, but Ghostface seemed to have ducked behind one of the shelves while the customers all ran out to where it was safe.

“Dammit,” you heard Sam whisper.

You spared a glance back to see her struggling with the lock. You looked back in front of you just as the owner came around the counter and was grabbed by Ghostface. Ghostface quickly overpowered the man, flipping the shotgun around and not hesitating to pull the trigger.

“Move!” you said, grabbing Tara and Sam and pulling them to safety just as Sam got the door unlocked.

You pushed the two of them to the ground, quickly crawling around the shelves as Ghostface fired a few more shots. You raised your hands, trying to cover your head as debris from the shelves fell on you. After going down a few rows you quickly slid behind one of the shelves, the three of you holding your breath and pressing your backs against it.

You glanced to the side, using the holes in the shelf to sneak a peek at Ghostface. You saw him round the corner, his boot crunching the shattered glass on the floor. You quickly pulled your head back and glanced at the girls, Tara was shaking on the floor next to you, you couldn’t help but slide your hand across the floor and intertwine your pinky with hers.

You looked past Tara and met Sam’s eyes. You used your hand not holding Tara’s to point in the direction Ghostface was. Sam nodded and as quietly as she could she reached across the floor a picked up a can. She raised a finger to her lips, and you nodded, giving Tara’s hand a tight squeeze to make her look up at you. You gave her what you hoped was a comforting smile and nodded to follow Sam’s lead.

You waited for Sam’s signal; you tried not to let the fact that all you could hear was Ghostface’s footsteps distract you. You winced and looked down, remembering the cut on your arm, there seemed to still be a nice stream of blood, which was quickly pooling on the ground between your and Tara’s hands.

Sam gestured for you to move. You held in a groan as you got into position, crawling on the floor across broken glass and other debris was not good for your knee. Tara glanced back at you, and you didn’t miss the worry in her eyes, so you gave her a reassuring nod. Then you gave Sam a nod to show that the two of you were ready.

Sam rolled the can under the shelf towards the back of the store. As soon as the noise of the can rumbled against the floor Ghostface fired the gun again. The three of you took the opportunity to run, keeping your heads down below the shelving.

You were about to round the corner of the shelf when you peaked over the top of the shelf, seeing Ghostface turning in your direction. “Down!” you called out, watching as the sisters dropped to the floor.

You dropped to the floor as well, groaning at the strain it took on your knee. You landed on your back and could see the boots of Ghostface as he made his way down the aisle. You shot up from the floor, ignoring the shooting pain in your knee and threw your body into the shelf, tipping it over onto Ghostface.

“Come on!” Sam called out.

You pushed yourself off the shelf, hopping and wincing at the pressure on your knee. You tensed when you felt a hand wrap around your side but instantly relaxed when you realized it was Tara. You put an arm around Tara as she helped you walk out of the bodega. By the time the three of you got outside the police cars were pulling up.

You leaned on Tara as you tried to take the weight off of your knee. It seemed that Ghostface was truly back, and this one had no problem killing anyone who got in his way. You didn’t face this Ghostface head on, but he carried himself different than Amber or Richie ever did, he handled the shotgun almost effortlessly, whoever this guy was, it was clear he knew what he was doing.

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