#they really need to see a chiropractor

[askblueandviolet]

Mayor, your bones! D:

You are already an old man. (⁠‘⁠◉⁠⌓⁠◉⁠’⁠)

MASTER POST

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[unfamd]

i strongly believe that in any universe modern or otherwise lwj uses lan xichen as a kind of confessional like a catholic priest. he literally comes into lan xichen's room at four pm precisely because that's the scheduled time that he allows himself to share an Emotion with his brother and sits down and says in a distinctly monotone yet perfectly recognisably anguished tone 'brother i have sinned' and lan xichen sighs very quietly because he doesn't want to hurt his brother's feelings and puts down his pen and says 'is this about wei wuxian' very gently and Lan Wangji is like 'mn' because it has never once Not been about wei wuxian. and then he says something that is Kind Of Weird, But Still Not A Sin like 'he fell asleep when we were studying and i watched his ribcage moving up and down for thirty eight minutes until he choked on nothing and woke himself up; am i evil' and once again lan xichen will kind of not-sigh in a way that makes it very obvious that in all other ways except physical he Is, Indeed, Sighing and has to reassure the most rigidly distraught younger brother in the history of mankind that what he is suffering from is in fact a malady known colloquially as a crush

[slippery-minghus]

such a bad tension headache that it feels like my eyes are two notches away from popping out of my skull to relieve some of the pressure.

so i tried an ingenious new stretch which was. literally. laying on my stomach on my bed with my head hanging off the side. and it actually helped??

made my low back feel... weird though. hard to tell if it was a good or bad stretch for that tangled mess yeesh

[savethepinecones]

pretty sure ive sneezed upwards of 20 times today, my throat feels scratchy, and one of my ears feels like it needs to pop. im starting to think this might not just be allergies

[ghostaholics]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄-𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn!reader (aside from a single idiom whose origin uses masculine language/pronouns - every man for himself) ➸ SUMMARY: Against all odds, the Lieutenant accidentally falls asleep on your shoulder. Unfortunately, there are witnesses to the precarious situation (just your luck that it would be Gaz and Soap). ➸ WORD COUNT: 2k

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄: don't poke the bear.

Danger in your line of work typically consists of trying to walk away from a mission while still being left completely intact (i.e. the goal is to make it out alive, in one piece). You’ve survived a great number of ordeals: cornered into a shootout with a dwindling supply of ammo, tiptoed your way through a field of pressure-sensitive IEDs, dove towards probable death (with an awfully high probability of splattering onto hot, concrete hell like a bug on a windshield) because your helo was sent tail spinning courtesy of a perfectly-aimed RPG – and really, the list goes on.

It's been child’s play, in the grand scheme of things. An extensive catalogue of life-or-death scenarios accounts for your entire military career. And sure, this might be a bit of a stretch, but you'd wager that none of those instances thus far have been as high-stakes as the current predicament you’ve found yourself in.

Jesus-fucking-Christ. Why’d Ghost have to fall asleep on you?

𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: avoid sitting next to him on the plane ride home. You've had to learn it the hard way.

And the kicker is that this whole thing could’ve been avoided; it didn’t have to be your problem. You could’ve sentenced any one of the other soldiers to your seat. Every man for himself, right? Get off scot-free, have a normal trip back to base with plenty of legroom so that you’re not cramped. Theoretically, it would've been beautiful – a passenger's paradise, the closest you could get to a first-class ticket.

But no.

Instead, play the Good Samaritan; extend your hand out with an act of benevolence. What’s the harm, right? So, you'd spared the poor guy, said you wouldn't mind switching places with him because he'd looked as white as a damn sheet at the idea of being crammed beside this behemoth of a lieutenant who's infamously every FNG's living nightmare.

Yeah, well hindsight is 20/20. Had you known what was going to happen, you would've had no reservations about throwing him under the bus. Sayonara, mate.

Law of the jungle, plain and simple.

To make matters worse, he is, in fact, exhibiting terrible flight etiquette. His head (which is dead weight and feels about as pleasant as a fucking bowling ball, mind you) has taken up every inch of real estate on your shoulder and is practically tucked into the curve of your neck; you’ll need to take a trip to the chiropractor’s after this – several, probably. The edge of his skull mask is digging into you. And, the cherry on top: get this – he’s man-spreading, so his left leg's trespassing into your own territory and brushing against your thigh. Utter lack of regard for personal space.

Incredible.

You’d still rather die than wake him up, though. You're not sure what'll happen if you do, but that's a risk you're not willing to take.

All things considered, an achy shoulder is a much better alternative than incurring the wrath of one angry Lieutenant. He's more subdued in this kind of context. To be completely honest, if you weren't already well-acquainted with him, you'd find it endearing.

From here, it's easy to see the simple rise and fall of his chest, steady and even. Slow inhale in, slow exhale out. He's at peace, a rhythmic lull that matches your own breathing. You can't quite put your finger on the exact moment he fell asleep. (He's got a habit of shutting his eyes and folding his arms over his chest when he isn't in the mood to converse with the other soldiers onboard. But God willing, he would never voluntarily loll his head onto your shoulder.) For what it's worth, he deserves the rest – never been one to do it this soundly as countless missions have taught you that he's usually a light sleeper. You remember him roughly prodding the toe of his boot at Soap's arm once when the Scot was conked out and his snores were a bit loud for Ghost's taste.

Rather odd then, that the Lieutenant even managed to allow himself to doze off like this. It’s too loud, too unsteady – the droning of the plane engine doesn't exactly make for good white noise and the turbulence outside is jostling the cabin around. Moreover, this puts him in a position of vulnerability, and he’s not the type to let his guard down so easily.

But somehow he did it with you beside him.

You try not to think about the implications of that.

𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄, 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄.

Because, Soap's just woken up from his nap, the first among the entire company of soldiers in the cabin still sleeping, excluding yourself. His seat's parallel to yours, straight across the walkway within direct line of sight, so he’s got an unobstructed view of you and Ghost. Soap sends a questioning glance in your direction, eyebrow quirked. A look that says, The hell's going on?

The level of your voice is down; it's at a conservative decibel to avoid rousing the others. Yet you convey your distress with the same amount of passion as if you were stuck in the middle of a losing firefight. "MacTavish, help."

Soap works with bombs for a living. Surely, he's capable of defusing situations too.

Alright the man’s a demolitions expert, but that’s semantics.

He blinks like he's trying to make sense of the situation. Though, it's pretty obvious what the problem is here. You're not sure why he’s got to take a moment and contemplate it. You need a solution, now. And he's moving at a snail's pace.

For a second, you think he might sympathize with your plight.

But then his mouth morphs into a shit-eating grin and when he nudges Gaz awake, you know right then and there that you're absolutely fucked.

More witnesses.

Great.

Because that’s just what you need, isn’t it?

Gaz drags a hand down his face. He pans over to his right to figure out why he’s been jolted awake so suddenly, and sees Soap who’s inexplicably, nauseatingly jovial before his eyes land on you.

Much like Soap’s original reaction, Gaz can’t help but offer a quizzical expression. The confusion is evident. His brows are drawn together because he knows that the L.t. wouldn't fall asleep on your shoulder.

Soap's shifting, sliding his hand into his pocket before pulling out his phone. He messes with it – a few taps here, a few swipes there. And then before you're registering what's happening, he's aiming it straight at you, like one of those mums getting a snapshot of their kids in matching jumpers during the holidays.

"Say cheese."

An indignant gasp leaves your mouth. "If you so much as—

"Soap, no. Don't do that." Gaz says from beside him, plucking the phone out of his hands. He tsks him with a click of his tongue. Stern disapproval in spades. The meaning is clear: it’s a big thumbs down from the Brit. He’s not endorsing this type of behavior. “Gone mad now, have you?” he asks in admonishment.

You release a sigh of relief. Finally, some moral support. He's reliable. Your faith in him is unshakable. Always could count on Gaz to get you out of—

"Have to shoot with a wide angle, see? Or else it'll look wonky," he corrects, flipping the phone horizontally before handing it back to Soap.

"Aye, thanks mate.”

Gaz's smile isn't as excessive as Soap's but the smirk gracing his face tells you he's relishing in your misery all the same.

Fucking traitor.

"Knobheads—"

They’d risk their own hides to save you from certain death. You've seen it in Cairo, Valencia, and Seoul. Good men. Good hearts in the right place as well. However, they're also the type to embarrass you at every opportunity – public humiliation being somewhere on that roster as well. And for that, you want to strangle them.

"Rude,” Soap comments pointedly.

"Bite me, MacTavish."

"Just wake him up if it's bothering you," Gaz supplies unhelpfully.

"If you were in my shoes, would you do it?"

"'Course, not," he snorts. "I don’t have a death wish.”

“Well, I also prefer my head on my shoulders, thank you very much," you whisper furiously, nearly hissing at him.

And Soap is admiring his handiwork, when he coos, “Aw, the two o' you make quite the pair." He briefly twists the screen so that you can catch a glimpse of it, and even from this distance, you can confirm that he's captured the shot. Annoyingly well, to add insult to injury. Angle? Spot-on. Lighting? Brilliant. It's interesting, has character. Black and white photography. He's managed to make a stunning composition and your upper lip is curling up into a sneer of disgust at his artistic eye. How infuriating.

"I'll send this to the Cap. He’ll get a kick outta it."

"Sod off."

"He'll appreciate bein' included."

Gaz matches the energy with an equally gleeful smile, now delighted by the idea. “Hey, and the L.t. he looks—”

“—cute," Soap has the audacity to finish for him.

What.

There are many words that you’d use to describe Ghost.

Cutthroat, maybe. Imposing. Glacial. Taciturn. A stringent set of ideals that makes him the perfect soldier: disciplined, honed, fierce. Intimidating, if he's not fighting on your side – someone you'd much rather have on your team than against, unless you fancied death. He can be a stone-cold terror on occasion. The man’s been penned as a walking horror story by those in the military. Given his iron-hearted demeanor, you'd be hard-pressed to disagree with that statement; there's not much room to call his steel-encased resolve into question.

So, yeah. Above all else, he's certainly not cute.

Your eyes narrow at them. "Congratulations, the both of you have officially made the top of my shitlist."

Soap, indifferent to your crisis, asks, "Want a copy for your wallpaper?"

There's another heated remark waiting on the tip of your tongue, because there's no way in hell that you would and you're ready to tell him off, about to give him an earful.

But somebody else beats you to it.

“Wipe that picture, or I’ll wring your bloody necks.”

Ice surges through your veins. Goosebumps break out across your skin. Because that voice belongs to one person. Oh, Christ. Never in a million years would you want to be on the receiving end of it.

There's anxiety warping in your chest. You're scared stiff, paralyzed with fear in a way that implores you to remain stock-still. The coarse fabric of your trousers bunches underneath your palms as you try not to freak out. This isn't your fault. None of it is.

And here's the worst part: Ghost hasn't lifted his head from your shoulder yet.

But Soap's unfazed. He blinks a couple of times, seems like he's weighing his options – as if there's something else he could choose besides following his lieutenant's command – yeah, right. He wises up, settling for a simple answer in the end. "Alright, Ghost." His smile makes a reappearance, sweet and well-meaning. Troublemaker. "Any chance you'd like a copy before I do away with it?"

"What kind of fuckin' question is that, Johnny?" he grumbles. "Obviously."

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄:

"I take it you don't think I'm cute then. Have I got that right?"

"I'm sorry... mind repeating that again, sir?"

"You didn't have anything to say about Soap's comment."

"I have a feeling that whatever I answer will get my arse handed to me, L.t."

He's smiling in response – like sunshine trapped behind clouds. Despite it being obscured by the mask, you can see his eyes crinkling at the corners, which makes the black charcoal that's lining them begin to crease a bit. "Permission to speak freely, Sergeant. You have the floor."

Your mouth parts in surprise. Well, then. Maybe you stand corrected. And so, you appraise him momentarily, giving it some serious thought. There's more to Ghost than you give him credit for. He's terse and rough around the edges, but respected for a reason. Admirable. Someone you think highly of and has deserved your approval. The mask undeniably provides an air of intrigue. “I suppose you can be,” you start off, gradually warming up to him being more approachable. “When you’re not terrorizing the new recruits, that is.”

[ohnococo]

How To Fight | MMA Fighter!Toji x Physical Therapist!Reader

You love your job as a Physical Therapist, and would rather avoid any complications. Unfortunately MMA Fighter Toji Fushiguro has taken a liking to you. Despite your better judgement, you've taken a liking to him too.

✧ wc: 6.3k

✧ notes: A song fic taking place in the MMA AU. The song lyrics referenced are from How To Fight by Eartheater

✧ warnings: eventual angst, mma!au, no curse au, widowed Toji, divorced Toji, single dad Toji, fem bodied reader, pronouns used (she/her), pet names (sweetheart), flirting, unwanted advances, pussy referred to as 'she', physical therapist reader, recurring injury, injury recovery, vaginal sex, cumshot

i've tasted metals of my own blood, and learned to like it

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

It was against everything you stood for to be happy to see a client again, given your line of work, but Toji was different. Against your better judgement, he had somehow managed to work his way into your mind, burrowing past that steely wall of professionalism you kept up at all times with those in your care. You were determined to never let him know that, though.

“Well, Toji, I would prefer it if you didn’t keep getting yourself injured.”

He breezes right past that. “Just let me take you out, it’ll be a lot nicer than pushing me around and cracking my joints.”

It was a simplification bordering on misunderstanding your work, as if you were some chiropractor, but you know he’s only saying it to get you shoving him around with that tinge of annoyance he feeds right into your veins. You try not to give in, because you’re always trying not to give in to Toji, really. Then he’s resisting, just enough to make you really have to work to guide him in the stretch you want him to do, and he’s managed to get you right where he wants you yet again. You tug at his hips, guiding him into movements he should be familiar with by now.

“Just let me do my job.”

You had no intention of accepting his advances, whether they were in the form of invitations to dinner, sparkling bedroom eyes, or flirtatious comments that would have had you kicking anyone else right out of your office. Not Toji, though. With him, you just find yourself slowly allowing him to speak to you more and more familiarly.

The corner of his mouth lifts smugly just as he’s turning away, taking his gaze off of you directly to watch you in the mirror along the wall next to the mat you were standing on. He allows you to move him for a moment, only offering light resistance now, as if you could truly make him do anything he didn’t want to, then continues the twisting motion on his own. You watch his body carefully, avoiding eye contact because you already know those green eyes are fixed on your face, trying to coax you into giving him the smallest inch to turn into a mile.

“If you want your hands on me you don’t gotta use your job as an excuse.”

You ignore him outright, drowning out any potentially untoward thoughts with a strengthened focus on your work. As always, it works, and you note on your assessment forms that his hip mobility was normal. You knew it would be, that Toji knew how to throw his punches properly, but you’re always thorough with your checklist whether it was for the reasons Toji accused you of or not.

“Stand against the wall.”

He lets out a whistle, hands up as he does, “Gonna frisk me?”

“I’m gonna refer you to Yaga so you can get wrung out like a wet rag if you don’t do what I tell you.”

“Ooh, that doesn’t sound too bad, actually.”

“Toji.”

He chuckles as he settles into the position he already knows you want him in, doing lunges with the wall as a marker for how deep to press forward as you watch his ankle and knee movements.

“All good there.” You tap his back, nodding as you make your notes while he stands in wait.

“Okay, upper body.”

You know this is where he’ll need the work, as usual, and you’re quick to go through your checks with the right shoulder, moving onto his problem area. You already knew from his post-fight medical, but are happy to find, as you watch his movements as he lifts and rotates his arm, that it’s no more serious than the last time.

“Left shoulder…” you say aloud as you note it.

He looks annoyed, at himself rather than at you, “Always is.”

It makes you feel bad for him, in a way. He wasn’t really reckless in the ring. He knew his body too well and was too calculated with how he approached his fights. Unfortunately, it was simply a recurring injury, as shoulder issues often were. Something that was always going to pop back up sooner or later, but with the way Toji took so many fights even as he neared his forties it seemed to be “sooner” more and more often.

As you rotate his arm, feeling where he tenses and softening your movements, you share a little of your optimism with him - couched in realism, of course.

“Don’t look so sad. It’s similar to the last one, so it shouldn’t be too long before we have you out there in the ring living your best life.”

He laughs at that, sounding a little dryer than his usual flirty chuckle, “I’m not living my best life in there.”

You glance up at him while you continue your assessment, brows raising in muted interest before he continues.

“Put it this way, I like it because I like the money. I don’t love fighting.” He thinks on it a little more before adding, “I do love finishing fights, though.”

To you, there was little difference between those two things, but then you weren’t the one doing the fighting so you accept his feelings on the matter. “That’s fair. I think it’s kind of rare to really love your job.”

As you firmly grasp his bicep, lifting his arm outwards, he flexes for just a moment, grin returning to its usual wolfish state, “Bet you love your job though. Groping men all day.”

You release his arm, letting it fall for only a moment, but catching it as soon as he winces, “I’d love it a lot more if you let me do it without those kinds of comments.”

“Ehh,” he tilts his head, brows raising in disbelief at your continued assertions that you didn’t get any sort of satisfaction out of this (and you didn’t… until him). “I think you get something out of them.”

You ignore him again, returning to your desk to note your recommendations. “Four to six weeks of sessions, as usual.” You look up at him then, indirectly threatening him to behave, “Four will probably do though.”

It shouldn’t have been a threat, getting him back up to snuff as efficiently as possible, but it had become one by now with Toji. It was a joke, of course. Toji would feign being hurt by the thought of it, but was always happy to be able to accept his next fight as soon as possible.

But sometimes it didn’t feel like a joke. Sometimes you did want a little more time basking in his flirtations. Toji Fushiguro had unfortunately grown on you and it often left you feeling ashamed. His reputation precedes him. He’d even been married when he first came into your office, and here you were worrying about missing those butterflies in your stomach at his little reminders that he is completely fixated on you.

When you find yourself smiling a little too widely at him, or even thinking about him outside of your sessions, you have to remind yourself that there was nothing actually there. It was just what he was like with anyone that caught his eye, even if it was only ever you he was assigned to once you’d started working there.

The why of it all wasn’t a mystery in the beginning. He was a relentless flirt that, based on how cagey some of your coworkers were about hearing he would be in your care, had apparently enjoyed his time with many of them before you. You didn’t mess around about your job, though. You loved your work, and you loved the convenience of this position, so you’d decided that you absolutely would not be added to his list of conquests.

At first keeping that professional level of disinterest was easy. It had seemed so obvious that he’d move on and request another PT work with him after the first of his recurring injuries led to several sessions worth of you rejecting his advances. That wasn’t the case, though. Maybe that was exactly why he kept coming to you and only you. The challenge.

And it was a challenge, for the both of you. You were intent on giving him nothing, and he was intent at making that as hard as possible for you without even really trying. By the third time he’s booked in for several sessions with you for post-fight recovery, you find yourself actually letting your guard down around him, if only a little. You might have even missed him.

i've gone under the knife of love, dissected every vein and vessel

Another week, another therapy session, another attempt to keep your composure, even with how relentless Toji is.

“How long are you gonna keep making me ask before you let me take you to dinner?”

You shoot him a look. The answer should be never, followed by asserting quite bluntly that you don’t sleep with clients, since he wasn’t exactly being subtle. That’s what the answer used to be, at least. It’s not quite that direct now, though. “How long are you going to keep getting yourself injured and winding up here?”

He puts his hand to his heart, feigning pain, “Listen, if I didn’t have a bum shoulder I wouldn’t get to come and be your favourite client.”

“I wouldn’t say favourite.”

He lifts his head from your massage table, flashing you a winning smile and the closest to puppy dog eyes a man like Toji could muster. “Cutest?”

“I wouldn’t say that either.”

He closes his eyes, relaxing onto your table as you move and massage his shoulder firmly, “Whatever you say, sweetheart…”

Toji really did enjoy testing you. Especially with his favourite little pet name for you. Sweetheart. ’Even though you’re not too sweet to me’ he’d said with a little pout, entirely undercut by his hungry eyes. You used to shoot him looks that could have killed a man on the spot in some other universe. Now you don’t look at him at all when he says it, it feels too risky. It feels like something in your eyes will give you away.

You throw out another of the many threats Toji knows are baseless by now, said as many times and with as little conviction as most of your defences against him. “You’re lucky I don’t kick you out.”

He peeks at you through barely opened eyes, as you stretch his arm outward, “That's what I’m saying, you’ve got a soft spot for me.”

That’s your final signal to put your proverbial work hat on a little more snugly as you push down, and he taps his fingers against you, indicating his limit for this particular stretch. He understands you’re truly done with the conversation as you pat his side and step back.

“Alright, time for strengthening exercises.”

This was the part he always got bored with. You weren’t touching him now, not after the first time to demonstrate what you wanted from him. You weren’t naive enough to believe him when he kept feigning a need for more hands-on guidance as he goes through the recommended motions. A man doesn’t get to the point of looking like Toji without knowing how to lift weights - especially not the small ones you had him on just to slowly get his strength back in his shoulder.

Even then, lying on the floor, raising a little 5 pound weight with his healing arm while you stand above him watching closely, he’s still ready to run his mouth.

“I like this.”

“It feels alright?”

“The weight is fine, but I like having you standing over me like that.”

You give him nothing, pursing your lips as you put the tip of your shoes between his arm and the ground, “Keep your arm up, don’t bring it down too far.”

Ignoring his comments is the best you can do sometimes. Even if it gets harder with every session as you start to actually look forward to it deep down. Even if it becomes your only defence until you’re spending a good chunk of these sessions in a near haze, trying to force as much emotional distance as possible once his flirting starts up.

His comments were uncalled for, and so was the way it made you feel. You were far from the type to be desperate for the attention of a man like him, and the way your body responded to him only pissed you off the more it excited you. All you can do, or all you’re willing to do, is shut it down, and remember that you have a job to do.

—

After three more sessions of this you’ve convinced yourself that you’re more than ready to discharge him and hopefully enjoy a peaceful several months without the risk of seeing his face again. The fact that it never used to take convincing to enjoy having the walking talking complication out of your life is something you aren’t willing to address.

“You’re gonna miss me, aren’t you?”

“Don’t start, Toji.”

You know you can’t really tell him what to do, unfortunately.

“You don’t have to if you-“

“That’s right, I don’t have to miss you, and I won’t. Hopefully you don’t go getting yourself injured again so you can come and bother me more.”

Your tone has him sucking in air through his teeth and grimacing a little.

“I don’t exactly like getting injured.” He looks away as he speaks and it’s strange not having his eyes on you like you were some sort of prey to be carefully observed. “I couldn’t even help my son move into his dorm. Cage fighter dad that can’t even lift a fucking box. It pisses me off.”

He shrugs, eyes back on you, lit up anew, “But at least I get to see your pretty face, huh?”

As much as you don’t enjoy Toji’s comments, you like these little glimpses of something else even less. Because he does talk to you. About his day, about little things that pop in his head when he’s bored of flirting for seconds at a time. And it makes it much harder not to get a little too attached when he isn’t just being a simple womaniser.

It sometimes makes you feel like Toji thinks you’re some sort of therapist - when he’s not relentlessly trying to get you into his bed. And you know that’s what all of his flirting is, of course.

Because his reputation precedes him. Yes, he’ll take someone out. Yes, they’ll have a good time. Yes, they’ll fuck. Except in your case you aren’t a part time receptionist or ring girl that might be able to avoid awkward situations with him during the nothing that comes after all of that. And you aren’t willing to mess up the good thing you have with your job, even though some of your coworkers seemed to be.

What wasn't mentioned to you as part of his reputation, was the little breadcrumbs of who he was beneath the charm and muscle. It’s known he was a prodigy in his sport. It’s known he retired young to be a family man. And it’s known he came back, 5 years later, newly widowed.

He doesn’t talk about his first wife much, because why would he? Any brief mentions of her are with an undying warmth and love that undercuts his reputation as a heartbreaker. She’s special. The mother of his child, his first love. The former is stated, the latter is obvious. Nothing short of that would melt that hardened mask of indifference.

His second wife, he doesn’t speak about at all. You only know of her because he mentions a step-daughter, and because when he’d flirted with you from the very first time he’d entered your care your eyes had locked onto the ring on his finger with contempt for how little it apparently meant. By the time you see him next, nearly half a year and another injury later, he isn’t wearing the ring anymore.

Something in you feels flattered when you ask Toji about how his son was finding college in front of a coworker who had been here much longer than you, and they’re shocked as they say they didn’t know he had kids. Then, you’re left even more annoyed at him for giving you more complications to maintaining a necessary level of professional distance in your job.

Small talk shouldn’t feel so heavy.

Helping people recover shouldn’t make you have to deal with these thoughts.

i know how to fight, how to fuck, how to die, how to resurrect my pride

When you give in, it’s in the worst way. He doesn’t even take you to dinner, you don’t give him a chance to. It’s his fourth time in your care, this time for an ankle injury. Something basic, something much more simple to deal with than his recurring problem. Something that will get him out of your hair in no time.

He isn’t simple to deal with though, telling you about the dogs his son adopted, how he never really got how people got so attached to animals growing up, but now he gets it. He’s got you comfortable, not even thinking about how your guard is down, nor about how you even smile at him as he shows you a picture of his son, buried under two masses of fluff and begrudgingly smiling at the camera.

“God, Toji, you really just have a little twin there, don’t you?”

He laughs, looking at the picture of his son, before setting his phone aside on the mat. “Nah, there’s a lot of his mom in there.”

You smile, patting his shoulder in a rare touch outside of professional reasons, “That’s nice.”

He lies back on the mat, out of your reach, “You’re nice, for once.”

You get back to work, wrapping your hands around his ankle and bending his foot slowly. “I’m nice to people who aren’t constantly trying to get into my pants.”

“Hey, who said I was trying to do that? I’m just trying to take you out.” He sits up and leans onto his elbows, “but if that’s the kind of thing you’re interested in…”

“I’m interested in doing my job. I don’t mind talking to you when you relax with the inappropriate comments.”

“I’ve gotta prove myself to you before you’ll let me take you out, got it.”

“Is that what I said, Toji?”

Toji shrugs, fully relaxing back onto his elbows, and you pull on his foot gently. “That’s what I heard.”

You shoot him a look that you hope can put fear into the heart of even him. Instead, it only seems to inspire other emotions as he forms his scarred lips into a pout that misses the mark of garnering pity for his plight as a man rejected yet again, though you’re certain Toji knows exactly what he’s doing when he makes faces like that. Even with his lips puckered and sticking out slightly, even with his brows fashioned into a worried frown, his eyes telegraph exactly what he’s thinking about.

It crumbles your resolve, leaving you looking away first as you let out a sigh you hope comes across as frustration instead of weakness. You readjust your position squatting down next to him on the mat, trying to get a feel for the flexibility of his ankle before you start guiding him through putting some of his weight onto it as he straightens the other leg and lifts his hips off the mat before settling back down.

He’s quiet then, for much longer than you were used to, and you take the silence as an opportunity to work in peace as you rotate his foot again. When you look back up at him it has your heart beating a little faster than it should be. His teeth press lightly at his lower lip, his eyelids are only half open, and his brow quirks as if just your look had the same effect as having said something dirty.

“What is it now?”

You expect him to make some comment about your hands on his body, how they were lingering even now. He makes you wait for it though, tilting his head from one side to the other as he looks you up and down, smiling like he has a secret he’s debating keeping.

Another sigh falls from your lips, filled with actual frustration this time, and when he sits up it feels like he’s towering over you in a way you simply could not overcome, despite being able to easily stand and remove yourself from the pull of his gaze. The way he peers at you, even more intense than usual, has the back of your neck tingling and you’re forced to swallow hard even with the fear that something as simple as that would give you away.

His gaze softens, dipping back into something cooler, as if he’s backing away from an animal signalling that an approach would not be treated kindly. He takes a deep breath, and you don’t even notice you’re following suit until you both exhale at the same time.

It’s as if he’s settling whatever that moment was with just a look, deciding not to make the final jump to cross that imaginary line, and it puts you at ease enough that his words are like a punch to the gut.

“You’re pretending you don’t like it, but your neck is doing that thing.”

“What? What are you talking about?” You’re blowing it, far too defensive even though you truly aren’t actually sure what he means.

“Here.” He brings a hand to your neck, tracing a finger down the length of it, stopping just above your collarbones. “You always tense riiiiight there.”

He pulls his hand back, settling it on his thigh, and you let out the breath you’d been holding from the moment his hands were coming towards you. It makes you realise you’d been so focused on controlling everything you did or said that you’d been clenching yourself like a fist every time his words, or actions, left you melting inside. It also makes you realise that was the first time he’d put his hands on you in a way entirely unrelated to your work since he shook your hand the day you’d met.

You’re horrified at having been found out. You’re even more horrified as you realise you hadn’t really been hiding anything anyway. It’s left you with no clue how to respond, and you suddenly feel so aware of your every movement, unable to decipher how to behave when your little act had been so, so obvious to him from the start.

“Look, if you really want me to stop, I’ll st-“ he pauses, looking up as he thinks, scrunching his nose and tilting his head as if he’s weighing options. “Well, I’ll try to stop. I can’t make any promises…”

He’s pausing again, thinking again, looking you up and down as he licks his lips, before he crosses his legs, pulling his ankle out of your grasp and resting his elbows on his thighs as he leans forward. It forces you to react, as if on instinct, and lean back off of your feet to seat yourself with knees raised and acting as a final barrier between the two of you. He lets you keep that distance you’d gained, but brings a hand to hover over your knee so closely that you’re not sure if he’s touched you yet or if it’s just the heat radiating off of him setting your nerves on fire.

You can’t even bring your eyes away from his to check, and realise that you wouldn’t exactly want to move further away whether his touch was real or imagined. His gaze has you locked in place just as much as your own head as you find yourself thoroughly buried in your own pit of uncertainty as everything moves too fast for your mind to catch up.

“You don’t want me to stop though, do you sweetheart?”

His eyes, the heat of him, his low words digging through that pit in your stomach to reach for your core, it all has you feeling too lightheaded to be able to think at all. You can barely even feel yourself shaking your head, body much more honest than you had been willing to be all this time.

“Thought so.”

He leans in, brushing his nose back and forth against yours, smiling with the cute gesture, then that grin spreads wider as you tilt your head, your eyes fluttering closed as you wait for him to just kiss you. He doesn’t, waiting long enough that you’re forced to open your eyes and confront the sight of that hungry face yet again, and this time his gaze has you outright clenching.

“Big girls don’t get what they want by acting all shy, do they?”

It’s too much, you feel humiliated, you feel sick, you feel like you’ll pass out if he keeps working you up without even putting his hands on you properly.

“Kiss me. If you wanna.”

You don’t know who you are, needing to be told what to do like this. You question who you are again, as you follow orders in a way you never would have before you’d been called out like this and press your lips to his, letting out a breath that’s shaky enough to have you revealing just how desperate you were. When you start to wonder who you are for the third time, for kissing a client, at work no less, you drown out that thought by parting your lips against his.

He responds with softly parted lips of his own, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him as he slots his mouth against yours. You wait for his tongue, flitting the tip of yours against his lower lip, and when it does not come you’re clinging to his shirt, bunching it at his shoulders. You’re forced to hold onto those broad shoulders properly when he lies back and his hands on your waist bring you with him to settle you on top of him - wordlessly reiterating that you would need to pull yourself together and set the pace here.

It’s your final push, as you straddle him with hands braced against his chest and slide your tongue into his mouth. Feeling the body you’d had your hands on far too many times, this time beneath you and with your ability to lie to yourself about the effect it has on you stripped away, has you salivating. You set all shame aside for this moment as you grind down against him, indulging in the feel of his stiffening cock beneath layers of thin fabric.

That tense feeling threatens to return, prickling at the back of your neck as he laughs into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and guiding your movements against him with strong hands on your hips. It’s gone again as he lifts his hips gently, using your weight against you as you only press harder onto him. You squeeze at his pecs, groaning into his mouth as you finally goad him into kissing you back with the same intensity you were now pouring into him, and it’s as delightfully invasive as you’d tried your hardest not to imagine it would be time and time again. It sends a tremble through your thighs, the wetness pooling in your panties all too obvious to you as all of your hidden desperation pulses through you straight from your pussy.

You forget yourself while kissing him like this, unaware of how long you’ve been on top of him, unaware of how you were moaning outright with just the friction between you, unaware of anything but feeling and tasting and touching as much of Toji as you could.

He’s aware though, aware of everything just as he always has been. How your thighs squeeze at his hips, the way your moans start sounding more like breathy little whines, how your tongue stops moving for seconds at a time against his. And it’s all he needs to keep this momentum going so quickly that everything but the two of you is an unintelligible blur.

“You gonna cum just like this?”

You don’t really want to answer it, and the look you give him as you try to keep him kissing you rather than talking has him chuckling, light and breathy against your skin.

“Sweetheart… if you’d just let me take you out from the beginning you wouldn’t be so pent up and begging for it…”

It takes more concentration than you have available to you right now to steady your voice. “I’m not begging.”

He takes in your face, biting at his lower lip as he slides two fingers into your mouth. He wiggles them around, sliding over your tongue, practically fucking your mouth with those thick fingers, knuckles catching at your tightened lips. “You aren’t…”

His fingers leave your mouth just as you were starting to actually enjoy the intrusion, and he slips his hands into your leggings, past your panties, stopping you from pressing down against his clothed cock like you had been as he circles your entrance slowly, “but she is.”

Then, his hand is gone, resecured on your hips, steadying your movements. “But you’re the boss here, not her. So if you don’t want it…”

“Come on, Toji.” You’re chastising him, even if you’re in no position to do so with your thighs tensing and your hips begging to keep moving against him.

He clicks his tongue against his teeth, “Like I said, you’re the boss. So I don’t move without orders.”

And he doesn’t. He doesn’t keep kissing you, even when you press your lips against his again, sighing out your frustration against his soft smile. He doesn’t release your hips to let you keep stoking your fire on his body. He doesn’t do anything but look up at you with a hungry glint in his eye, enjoying every moment it takes you to push your pride aside to ask him for exactly what you’ve wanted longer than you can admit to yourself.

“I want to cum.”

“Just you? Not a very good boss, huh…”

You groan, frustration with him reaching a fever pitch, “I want you to fuck me.”

He closes his eyes, smiling wide and letting your words wash over him. It’s music to his ears, and when he looks back up at you his pupils are blown and you know he’s done holding back. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.”

His arm is around your waist then, keeping you steady as rolls you over, settling himself between your thighs and you’re now looking up at him. You feel the tensing of his body, and come back to yourself enough to give him a concerned look.

He catches it, pressing a hand to your cheek and rubbing his thumb over your lips in an attempt to soothe those worries.

“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” He shifts so he’s not putting weight onto his ankle, pulling at your shoes until they’re sliding off and hitting the ground. You lift your hips as you work your own leggings and underwear down, straightening your legs for him to remove them for you before he’s spreading you wide with hands on your inner thighs. He slides a hand towards your pussy, rubbing his thumb through your wetness and sucking air through his teeth at the way it slips around with ease.

“You really were gonna cum like that, weren’t you?”

You run your hands over your face, unwilling to endure any more teasing, “Just fuck me, Toji.”

He whistles, releasing your thighs and tugging the waistband of his shorts down just enough to release his cock, and you look up to his face, refusing to give him a reaction until he’s sliding inside you just as you’ve asked. He braces himself on one of his elbows, leaning over you and letting his cock hang heavily against your stomach. His hair tickles at your face as he kisses you again before requesting a final affirmation before following the orders you’d given.

“Want me to go slow?”

He really does wear your patience thin, enough that you answer without thinking, “No.”

“Okay…” he sounds doubtful, but continues on as he grips himself at the base and rubs the head of his cock through your wetness.

You squeeze at his sides, prompting him to look at you instead of at his own cock below. “Do not cum inside me.”

It’s stern enough to make Toji laugh, your voice sounding much more like your usual self for just a moment. “Don’t worry, I don’t want any more responsibilities.”

You don’t know if you trust Toji, but right now you don’t exactly trust yourself either. Especially not when having this man you’d spent ages closing yourself off to split you open on his cock in one merciless push has you wincing and taking it like it was exactly what you deserved for being so weak to him.

Toji pauses, balls deep, eyes clouded as he looks down at you. “I asked if you wanted me to go slow.”

It’s said with a hint of pity and a look that says ’you did this to yourself’, though he does stay still, kissing you again and removing your need to try and collect your thoughts enough to reassert that you knew your body, not him.

He doesn’t hold back for long though, and once you’re sighing into his mouth again, your tongue’s movements sloppy and unfocused, he starts moving his hips slowly. He starts with shallow thrusts, hips barely leaving yours. Then, as your body relaxes and your pussy accommodates him with a telltale squelch, he pulls out further, fucking you harder. Once your thighs are gripping at his hips he sits up, gathering more momentum in his thrusts at the slight change of angle.

He presses his hand to your abdomen, thumb making out a steady pace on your clit as his hips make angled thrusts that have his cock working at you with purpose. The moan it draws from you is punctuated with your eyes rolling, trying desperately to refocus on the face of the man above you. He bites at his lip, nodding and groaning at the feel of you tightening as he finds the movements that have your hands trying to grip at something below, but only meeting the dull squeak of your fingertips sliding against the mat. He leans back, reaching up to grab at the back of the collar of his shirt and tug it over his head, tossing it aside. He grasps both of your wrists firmly, pulling your hands up to rest against his stomach as he looks down at you with a challenge in his eyes.

“C’mon, touch me.” He smiles, wide and wicked, “Like you’ve always wanted to.”

You do just that, running your hands over his abs, grazing your thumb over his belly button, tracing your fingers along the prominent vein on his abdomen that leads down below to where the two of you are connected. Then, your hands travel back upwards, gripping at his pecs. His hand returns to press at you, thumb back to playing with your swollen clit, and having that touch back so suddenly has you squeezing Toji’s pecs hard, drawing a moan from him.

“There you go.” It adds even more enthusiasm to his thrusts, speed picking up as he leans over you, propping himself up on one hand as he digs deep to have you squeezing him again.

This time your touch is intentional as you squeeze at the flesh, a slight give present before you reach hardened muscle, and when you graze your nails over his nipples he’s shivering above you, bucking into you harder. The way he rubs at your clit is almost mechanical in its precise speed and pacing, a steady climb punctuated by those thrusts that stroke your insides in a way that makes your body tingle and your toes curl.

“That easy, huh?”

The audacity helps you lock eyes on him, if only for a moment, and while his smug smile builds a small fury at the back of your mind, your receive vindication in the flutter of his lashes and slight twitch of his upper lip as he tries to ignore the call of his tightening balls. It gives you what you need to dig deep, rocking your hips up into his thrusts, unearthing the orgasm just below the surface for the both of you.

You find yours first, putting your trust in Toji as you let go and bounce into him as it rips through you white hot and powerful enough to have you curling in on yourself, head buried against Toji’s chest and legs clamping him until his hips are pressed to yours. He pushes past even the strength of your legs and pulsing pussy, thrusting until you release him, lying back, and your head has barely hit the mat below before he’s pulling out.

“Fuck…” it’s hissed out as he sits up and jerks at his cock roughly, head falling back while his hips buck up and into his fist. His cum spatters down, first landing on your shirt until you tug it up, hopeless as the task was with your clothes already ruined, and take the rest of it onto your bare stomach.

He’s left panting, you’re left panting. He looks like he’s won at something, you feel like you’ve lost.

[portgasdwrld]

Strawhat reactions to a chiropractor or massage therapist joining their crew? (Sfw) I know they get injured and could use it.

I love those random ideas lately 😭helps me out if my writer block💕

📂Strawhat + chiropractor/massage therapist reader joining their crew

Mostly them reacting to you proposing them a session

Luffy

He’s so fucking excited. He’s jumping everywhere, begging to be your first client. He’s already laying down in your office to have his body cracked, but then you realize as you do it that his body is literally made of rubber and it’s impossible for you to work on him. When you tell him the news, he’s whining and tells you to try again😭 He’s all pouty so you decide to massage him and that put him out to sleep real quick. He went from sulking to sleeping. When he woke up, he commented about how good this was and truly he never felt this alive in a while.

Zoro

He would totally refuse at first and complain about how he doesn’t need it and how he only needs to rest a little (a good nap), and he will be fine. But then you actually try to convince him to do it, as you saw how much his body had to go through with his training, the battles, his poor sleep position… He finally agrees only after Chopper tells him how it can better his performance and make him feel more relaxed. He barely admits that it did in fact made him feel better, but now he jumps to the occasion whenever you propose it 🚶🏻‍♀️

Nami & Robin

The girls are so freaking happy especially Nami. She pretty much asks you for a session whenever she feels sore after working hard on maps or when she had to fight. She chats to you about life and tell you some gossips. She loves to make conversation and treat it a bit like a spa day.

Robin was down to try it, but she usually use her devil fruit if she feels sore somewhere and need to release some built up tension, because of stress or battles. Basically, she never needed someone for that, but after Nami told her how amazing you were, she gave it a try. She’s mostly silent and take this time to relax her body and empty her thoughts.

Usopp

He’s a bit scared at first because he heard some people talk about horror stories at the chiropractor. He heard some people got their bones cracked with no going back to normal or how some doctor were secretly psychopath 💀💀💀 To say the least, he really didn’t see the appeal to risk his life like this 😔 If you poke fun at his ego, he might do it just to prove it to you that he isn’t scared (his legs are shaking the moment he enters your office). He has difficulty relaxing which put you off , You have to wait for couple minutes, make him sips some relaxing tea. When it finally happens, he’s bragging about how cool it is and how everyone should do it🙄 there is legit nothing to be scared off pfff???

Sanji

I don’t know why, but I get the feel Sanji would somewhat be shy 😭 When you ask him if he wanna have a session to help with his stress, he would just look at you like 😳?? He would try to make analogy to food, like it’s a bit like how he hit(?) the meat before cooking it so it’s tender, but in that case it’s gonna make him relaxed. You kinda just stare and nod because whut 😭 He honestly could use it with all the cooking he does and the fights. He loved it but he got flustered a lot. He was red-shy when he left 🚶🏻‍♀️

Brook

He’s a skeleton.

Franky

Finally FRANKYYY, this man was BORN for this. He is so excited and is so talkative. He asks you when you started and why did it became your profession. He pretty much tell you to only focus on the back of his body because it’s less solid than the rest of his cyborg body. So you went in for a massage and he’s really vocal through it. As it ends, he tells you he’s happy you joined and he will be a regular which makes you laugh because you two are literally on the same boat lol 😭

[shellbells-things]

Now that I’ve had a chance to come back down to earth after I ascended over the Are You Sure!? trailer, I have to comment on the reactions out there. Most sane people see it for what it is. A chance for Jikook to have some fun together before entering the service. I believe that they REALLY wanted to do this, but knew that they needed a “reason”, so they resurrected the idea of filming a (Jikook) travel show. Very last minute and unplanned, as they say multiple times. During the filming of these different trips, at least the Jeju and New York/Connecticut ones, they didn’t know that they were going to be allowed to enlist together. To me, this makes it all a little more poignant because they must have been desperately trying to soak up these moments in order to sustain themselves for what was most likely going to be a long separation. Regardless, they clearly had a blast and the chaotic nature of their time together is so on brand for them. I. Can’t. Wait.

Now the crazy people. The crazy people are already twisting themselves into knots so badly they are going to need a chiropractor on retainer. They are bro-i-fying this trip so hard. Like it’s their job. Or they are trying to say Jungkook was forced to do the show (total and utter bullsh*t, I mean LOOK at him). Or. OR they are trying to turn Jimin into Tae at every turn. On the motorcycle, under the umbrella, etc. <insert eye-roll here>. They are desperately clinging to the idea that the Jeju trip was a full VminKook trip because we have pics of them together at one point. Any maybe they are right. But that doesn’t change the overall purpose of these trips and that’s for Jimin and Jungkook to have a fun time together before enlistment. They say this in the trailer for God’s sake, so there is no question.

And listen. The bro angle? That’s gonna happen. We all know it. I’m betting those editors had to work HARD to maintain that bro aspect. Did anybody REALLY think we were going to have anything OVERTLY sexual or couple-like here? Seriously? Jimin and Jungkook have spent their entire relationship in front of the cameras. They know how to do this by now. But. But. But. With Jikook, it’s always what simmers beneath their “innocent” interactions that really tells the tale. How many times have you seen two people together who weren’t holding hands or kissing or anything overly couple-like but you just KNEW they were a couple by their aura or vibe? Jikook gives off those vibes all day long. Period. We all see it. Hell, even antis and TKKrs see it, they just don’t want to.

Anyway! This Are You Sure!? ride is going to be amazing and I’m here for it. For every single smile and giggle and handshake (hand holding, we know) and goofy flirting moment, I’ll be fan-girling like crazy.

[pygmi-cygni]

Room of Requirement: Oscar Isaac Characters

what do they need most? (if you don't get the reference dw about it)

Marc: A chiropractor's office. But it would only be him; I think the joint pain goes away when the others are fronting and specifically Marc is the one with back/shoulder problems. I can just imagine him seeing a chiropractor and being like finally I can move correctly.

Jake: Man-cave. Like, he doesn't front much to just...chill out. I think he'd like a man-cave, with a TV and some booze and one of those really squishy leather recliners.

Steven: Decaf oatmilk latte with vanilla hazelnut syrup. Marc is too shy to order a drink that long and Jake refuses to drink anything without a metric fuckton of caffeine so poor Steven never gets to enjoy his favorite coffee :( but he does this time!

Leto Atreides: the biggest, fluffiest, best bed in the world. Mans needs a nap. and one of those body pillows that are supposed to help your posture or whatever because I bet his back issues are also a bit crazy.

Santiago: A nice little coffeeshop so he can talk with his mom. I think that would be nice, a little hole-in-the-wall cafe with the sticky tables and the plastic coverings over checkered tablecloths. With the dirty framed pictures stacked on bookcases and the walls three different shades of the same-ish kind of yellow because the owners couldn't afford enough paint to fix the cracks. You know what I'm talking about. He drinks cappucinos.

Anselm: Bonsai plants. I think this guy would fucking love bonsai. Imagine him in his office, trimming those little trees and being like 'hm yes I shall create a business for this' and then shooting anybody that says 'ew no what the fuck.'

Nathan: just a normal room with color and plants and books and stuff, to remind him what normal people live like. He created a beige mom house and now he needs to be reminded of normal visual stimulation.

Poe Dameron: stim toys. He has adhd, that is my fanon for him and I'm sticking to it. I think he'd really like the fidget rings or the cubes with switches and dials on them.

tags!

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world

@ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m @lonelyisamyw-0love 

@unear7hly @chaithetics @ominoose

[casuallyanidiot]

The Beta Test | Chapter 2

[Yandere M x Gn Reader]

Local party animal and known social butterfly [name] wakes up to find that they've been abducted by their very reclusive and very wealthy classmate. Why, you might ask, did he do this? Well for one reason of course! He needs to know how he's going to talk to his crush! So now, with their freedom on the line, [name] has to figure out how to get this kid with the one of his dreams or risk never leaving at all. Lots of weird conversations ensue, of course.

1.6 k words Tw. Swearing

Chapter 1 Table of Contents

You stayed shivering on the floor of the cell for what you guessed to be the next few hours. There were no windows in the little room you had been stuffed into, and even the little dim lights under the cabinets on the other side of the bars had been turned off. They had shut off a few minutes after Javier had left, leaving you in near absolute darkness. Over the course of however long you had been in there, your mind had become increasingly clear.

You had fallen asleep after a certain point. Like, what else was there to do? When you woke up again, it felt like your spine had been bent into thirteen different directions. This sucked, to say the least. Your freedom for him getting with some girl? What a freaking weirdo. You sighed as you stretched out as best as you could and tried not to think about the absolute mess of a man that could probably harm you with little remorse. 

Still, all you could really do was wait for Javier to come back. So, that’s what you did.

It wasn’t clear how long you had been sitting there, staring at the cabinets and trying to imagine what lay in them, before a beeping noise came muffled from the other side of the door. Your bleary eyes widened before narrowing sharply. A twinge of annoyance ran through you as a head peeked into the room. This little asshole stared at you like you were some kind of rabid animal. Still, he shuffled in.

“ Hey uh, you’re probably hungry cause of the drugs and all. I brought you something,” he said. He walked over to stand in front of your cell. In his hands was a tray of what looked like something edible. Honestly, it was the least he could do. 

“ I would’ve had a…someone else deliver it to you, but I think we should kinda uh get to know each other a bit more. Since you know, you’re gonna help me and all,” he laughed a little and raised the dishes out to you slightly. You could only blink at his audacity. But hey, you were pretty hungry. 

The pit in your stomach had been a big pain in your ass for who knows how long, and you doubted that a hunger strike would really get you anywhere. You let a groan out in frustration as you threw your head back and started to stand.  It was a slow and shitty process; all your joints were cracking like a glowstick. You should not be having this hard of a time in your twenties. Maybe it was time to go see a chiropractor or something. Surely someone knew a good one that wouldn’t break your bank or back. 

Walking up to the metal bars you realized that this was the first time you had ever been this physically close to Javier. He must’ve been thinking the same thing because he was shifting around so much you would’ve thought that he had to go use the bathroom or something. Still, you wordlessly held out your hands with a blank stare. He looked at you silently for a few moments, absolutely flabbergasted I'm sure, and went rigid. You rolled your eyes.

“ For fuck’s sake man, just give me the food,” you said, pretty exhausted all around. Your sure you sounded like a stay-at-home military mom with 5 kids after picking them up from school or something. Not a good look at all. Whatever. Being held captive wasn’t exactly the vibe you wanted to put out either, but here you were.

“ Huh! Oh yeah.. That. Sorry, sorry. Here you go,” he said meekly and attempted to pass you your meal, finally, but there was just one issue. It was kind of weird how neither of you had noticed nor thought about the fact that the plate might be too big to actually fit through the bars. As the plastic dish was stopped by the immovable steel (or whatever metal it was actually made of. How should you know?) you pressed your lips into a thin, tight line. You raised your head to see the gloomy man going through what you could guess were the five stages of grief all at once. 

Yeah, Javier looked like he was on the cusp of shattering like a lego building does when dropped from the twelfth story.

“Dude…” you whispered, also absolutely devastated because you were hungry, duh.

“ Uhhh, umm.”

The guy couldn’t even get a single word out; He only kept trying to shove the plate into your cell. The room was filled with only the sounds of dull tapping. You could only stare on dumbly, lips parted in absolute disbelief.

“ Hey it’s um, it’s not going to get through,” you said. It was like your words went in one ear and out the other. It was like he was a robot, trying to do an action even though it was physically impossible. You noticed his trembling hands and his quivering lip almost immediately, and you shook your head. You reached through the bars and grabbed the plastic dish, stopping the weak motions. 

“ It’s not gonna work man. Let it go.”

It was like you had backhanded him or something. His dark eyes went wide and he actually jumped back from you. You were left in a pretty uncomfortable position there while he bumped back into a table. His chest was heaving pretty deeply, and his string bean body was splayed out in all sorts of awkward angles. You stood there, with your back still hurting as the one who kidnapped you in the first place stood trembling 5ft away. 

Well, that was a total waste of time. 

He seemed to realize that he was acting very, very strangely and cleared his throat. Javier ran his hands through his flat, dark hair, clearly stressed. He straightened up, pushing on the high-quality marble counters with shaky arms. 

“ I uh, sorry. I should’ve thought of that haha. Guess that just shows how useless I am,” he laughed weakly, and you grimaced at the way he glanced to the side. You rolled your eyes, the hunger had really started to whittle down your already tiny amount of patience. The plate of food, which you still could not pull into your cell by the way, smelled stupidly good. I mean, if you really tried, you could still be able to eat. Though as you held it up, you noticed that there was nothing for you to eat with. You huffed.

“ You’re fine, man. Can you get me a fork?”  

“ I’m fine? Yeah, you’re right,” he sighed out of relief. He laughed as he waved a finger at you. “ I think… I think I can see why you get along with people so well. “ You raised a brow at his words. He stood tall, finally done with whatever emotional rollercoaster he had gone through in like under two minutes.

“ I mean, you’re really good at talking to people. I mean we’re already having some fun memories, right? I mean, I know we’re not friends, not yet at least, but um, this is good! You can help me better if you’re more comfortable with me and stuff haha,” he said while rubbing his arm. You could only blink at the audacity of this man.

“ Fun memories? Like what?” You couldn’t help the confused hiss that left your lips.

“ Oh you know, like right now. I made a mistake and um, you were all reassuring and stuff. Like I said I know we’re not friends, but um it was really nice how you kept me calm and stuff. I know that I’m probably gonna remember this for a long time,” Javier giggled a little bit at the end.

“ Ah okay. Well, that’s cool and all, but can you please get me a fork?”

“ Yeah, it is cool. I’m glad that I came and talked to you today. I almost didn’t, haha. I was um, kinda nervous. I mean… yeah this was nice. I’m gonna go now. See you later,” he said. His gloomy expression had become noticeably brighter. He gave a little way and smiled before turning to the door.

“ Wha- hey wait!” You cried out, but he just kept walking. The door was shut once again and the same mechanical beeping rang out. You stood dumbfounded, an offended scoff leaving your mouth as those stupid lights dimmed down. The food in your hands couldn’t easily be eaten without utensils, and even if you did, your hands would probably be super messy. Your stomach rumbled as you sighed in defeat.

It was awkward to move the plate down to the ground while your arms were still outstretched beyond the bars, but you managed to do it. You stared at it longingly. Maybe if you looked at it long enough the flavor would somehow miraculously end up on your tongue. You slumped over in slight defeat.

While you had always assumed to an extent that Javier was socially inept, you would’ve never guessed it would be this bad. Like, the dickwad didn’t even spare you a second glance as he left. Did he even hear you? Was it even possible to be that wrapped up in oneself? You could kinda feel bad for the guy if the current setting was literally anywhere else. 

If you were back in the quiet corner of the library, then sure, you might feel for the guy. Hell, if he had asked you to help him like a regular fucking person would, you probably would’ve jumped at the chance. But here? Now?

You groaned as you slumped over. If he was this bad, then there was absolutely no way that he was going to get with that girl. Even if you helped. You looked miserably at your plate and bitterly came to the reasonable conclusion that you were probably gonna die here because of that fact alone.

Fucking Javier Galvan, man.

[avocado-writing]

Hey! I just discovered your blog and I'm having massive bg3 brain rot rn. I just went through a hellish amount of back pain (to the point where I was on the verge of passing out) and I was wondering if you could write a few headcannos about how the bg3 companions would comfort the reader. I was thinking maybe Astarion and a few of your favs? Anyway, I love your work and gave a great day!!

aww no I hope your back is better my love! Here are some hcs about some companions helping/comforting you when you’re in pain:

Astarion

Wakes you up early and encourages you to do some gentle stretches to help with the pain

I do mean early. He basically does yoga with you and does NOT relish the idea of the camp catching him doing downwards facing dog, he’d die from embarrassment (though he will stomach doing it during the day if you really want to. But complain the whole time)

Does research into what teas and tinctures can be made and bought to help ease your discomfort.

Gives you massages, but they’re very sensual. You both know he’s not really trying to help in that regard… However his massages do lead to a way to take your mind off things…

Karlach

her 👏 warm 👏 hands 👏 are 👏 a 👏 heat pack 👏 Both before and after her infernal engine is fixed.

Before, she wraps her hands up as tight as she can to shield you from her head and presses them against wherever is causing you discomfort

After, she uses her hands properly, holding them against your skin so the heat can soothe you.

Offers to carry your things so that the day-to-day is easier.

Wyll

He does do proper massages, and unlike astarion he has no ulterior motive.

Insists you see a doctor or a healer as soon as you can and pays your medical bill if needed.

Is good at reading your face. If you’re doing something and your pain is causing you problems, he’ll offer to jump in and take over or at least help you.

Doesn’t bombard you with questions about how you’re feeling but knows the signs to look out for, because he knows you 💕

Lae’zel

10000% cracks your joints like a chiropractor, likely some githyanki remedy.

You do not know if she is trained to do this. Probably not. It feels so good though.

She is the source of your bruises but healer of your pain.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget (lmk if you want to be added)

[swisccfinds]

50 ONE LEVEL CAREERS: Storytelling careers megapack by isy's the snake

Here is yet another career mod pack, but this one has no promotions, you just work and your job level stays at 1. As the title say this mod is best for story telling!

creator's notes-

This mod requires XML Injector by Scumbumbo. You can find it here. Pay attention if you don't already have it for another mod! In that case, you do not need to re-install it. Be sure it is updated for the last patch.

XML Injector is a mod required for some mods to work. So, you install it as any other mod in your Mods folder, no more than one subfolder deep.

This mod has been updated for the version 1.99.305 of the game (second update after Horse Ranch).

It doesn't required any DLC to work. Base game compatible

I've adopted this mod from the amazing ItsKatato who, due to her hiring at EA, couldn't continue to mod. I have made some changes: • I have changes all the pics of the careers — now they all show Sims (please check the credits paragraph at the end to see who was the amazing raccoon who helped me); • I have updated the mod for the Horse Ranch patch; • I have cleared ALL the tuning errors; • Fixed the description of some careers who appeared to be missing.

Now, here we go with the explanation of the mod (originally written by ItsKatato, edited by me):

Katato said: "Have you ever had a story planned out for your sims but you can't find the perfect career for them? Most of the time when I find the career it ends up being a complicated career with a bunch of promotion tasks and extra stuff. Well, I've made a pack of a bunch of single-level careers. All your sim has to do is go to work, that's it. This is perfect for the non-important sims in your life, like the forgotten children of your legacy challenge." In short: those are 50 careers you can use for NPCs Sims or random Sims you do not want to care about. As Amethyst said: "Go to work, make money, leave me alone". Your Sims won't need any task to perform to upgrade and get a promotion, as well as they do not really need an ideal mood to go to work since it won't change their performance. They just go and do their job. And now the list of all careers:

1. Anesthetiologist 2. Cartographer 3. Chiropractor 4. Compliance Officer 5. Data Scientist 6. Dental Hygienist 7. Dentist 8. Diagnostic Medical Sonographer 9. Financial Advisor 10. Financial Manager 11. Genereal Surgeon 12. Genetic Counselor 13. Home Health Aide 14. Information Security Analyst 15. IT Manager 16. Interpreter And Translator 17. Lawyer 18. Marriage And Family Therapist 19. Massage Therapist 20. Mathematician 21. Mechanical Engineer 22. Medical And Health Services Manager 23. Nurse Anesthetist 24. Nurse Practitioner 25. Obstetrician And Gynecologist 26. Occupational Therapist 27. Operations Reasearch Analyst 28. Optometrist 29. Oral And Maxillofacial Surgeon 30. Orthodontist 31. Orthotist And Prosthetist 32. Paralegal 33. Pediatrician 34. Personal Care Aide 35. Phlebotomist 36. Physical Therapist 37. Physical Therapist Assistant 38. Physician 39. Physician Assistant 40. Pilot 41. Podiatrist 42. Prosthodontist 43. Psychiatrist 44. Registered Nurse 45. Respiratory Therapist 46. Software Developer 47. Speech-Language Pathologist 48. Statician 49. Substance Abuse And Behavioral Disorder Counselor 50. Veterinarian 51. Web Developer 52. Wind Turbine Technician 

lets give some of our love and support to isy!

download

[kannra21]

Bc I "love" (lol) Gege so much, I gathered some info on him. Pls DM me to add more if you remember anything

Pen name: Akutami Gege (芥見下々)

Birthday: 26th February 1992 (31yo)

Zodiac: Pisces

Born: Iwate Prefecture, Japan

he went to all boy's private school

Akutami has an older brother who's married. Yuji is strongly inspired by his brother who is Akutami's opposite. He is someone who succeeds in everything he undertakes: sports, studies etc.

he was never really interested in drawing or manga until 4th grade when his older brother bought Weekly Shōnen Jump. The Jump that he read had Bleach on it and that's how Akutami's love for Bleach developed. When he was in the 5th grade and moved from Iwate Prefecture to Sendai in Miyagi Prefecture, he was surprised to see that the kids at his new school drew manga

he started drawing manga by imitating his friends' work

so his Bleach obsession started in elementary school and his Evangelion and Hunter x Hunter obsession started in middle school

he wrote a poetry analogy called "Giant From The Clouds" in middle school, inspired by the Bleach mangaka

His previous works are Kamishiro Sōsa, No.9, Nikai Bongai Barabarjura and jjk 0

Yuji was named after his childhood classmate

Geto was named after the "Geto Korean Ski Resort", located near Akutami's hometown of Tohoku

he's slightly colorblind

he's a fan of occult, mystical practices and horror

he wears glasses

he cooks somewhat

he loves hot springs and scalp massages, he goes to dermatologist to maintain healthy skin

he exercises and he's trying to get in shape despite the busy schedule, workout is not as painful as it is boring

he's very grateful for his chiropractor bc of his stiff neck, he said that if he ever time-travels and meets his younger self he's gonna tell him "get in shape, seriously", he craves afternoon naps but tries to resist by eating sweets like Pikmin gummies (why's he so contradictory haha)

when Nakamura first debuted with the jjk cast and got to meet Gege, he was surprised by how young he looked. He also said that Gege has a calming voice

hobbies: he reads a bunch of novels and watches a bunch of movies whenever he can, he's busy with work most of the time

his favorite food is crispy thai pandan chicken

his favorite onigiri flavor is mentaiko, he loves Umaibo snacks, Schau Essen, potatoes, hayashi rice, ramen and seedless grapes

He's usually not a fan of name brands but he likes Balenciaga. He also wants to support Royal Host restaurant

he likes comedy podcasts like Arabikidan group

the first manga he submitted to Jump was a gag manga

when he was a student he found studying boring but he likes doing research on things that actually interest him (like engineering facts he needed for the manga)

when he was an art student, he didn't really like making drawings where the model stayed for hours in a specific pose. He preferred to sketch in 3-4 minutes

he relies too much on sketches, rough drafts and his editors (he says he's like a dog for the editors)

he has a habit of forgetting how to draw his characters sometimes

he's self-deprecating and he's sorry that he sometimes makes people feel awkward by being overly critical of himself *hugs him*

he finds it difficult to write Yuji bc Yuji and Akutami are fairly different, Akutami doesn't consider himself particularly athletic but he can relate to Yuji for being an "airhead" sometimes and does things when people tell him not to

he thinks he's clumsy and fucks up honorifics sometimes, he talks casually with his editor Yamanaka whom he has a beef with till this day, he reminds him to "respect his elders" (he's so Gojo coded lol)

He's so funny asdfghjhgfd

he's in good relationship with his parents, he respects them and they're very supportive of him

he cares about his mom's opinion on his manga

Toji's and Yuta's personalities are somewhat based on Akutami's dad, dad also reads the manga

according to Gege, jjk should've been a lot darker but editor didn't allow it

he's an otaku, he's a fan of Marvel, has Hunter x Hunter posters on the wall and enjoys Pokémon wii games, he collected Yu-Gi-Oh cards when he was younger, he's from the generation when Gintama was popular

He never felt hatred for Thanos from Avengers: Endgame (explains why he likes Sukuna so much lol)

his favorite Haikyuu character is Tendo and his favorite BNHA characters are Overhaul and Stain

he saw Brad Pitt in person wow

Idea for the pen name: Gege worked a part time job at the cleaners and learned what it's like to be humble in the world. "Gege" translates to a "person of lower status" or a "commoner"

he claims to be socially awkward with people he's not familiar with, he's not used to public speech but when he gets drunk he does a 180 and is blabbering a lot

people call him a genius with a great sense of humor, his editor Katayama says that he's a cheery and a cool person, much like Gojo

he bought a black mountain parka (like Gojo's) that's supposed to last for six years but he put it in storage after one week

he thought about dying his hair white (Gege stop with the Gojo cosplay)

he's a procrastinator, he's mentally preparing for hours to draw a manga chapter that would otherwise take him 30min. The truth is, he's getting tired of jjk and can't wait to finish it

he chose the cyclop cat avatar because drawing one eye is easier and no one hates cats

he said that he used to have a "type of girl" in high school but the more he grew up he realized that every woman is a good woman, he likes well-groomed women (although I think he likes girls with thick tights? he's a Hwasa fan)

he thinks that world can't be divided into black and white and that it's always a blur. Villains and heroes are treated the same because each of them have their own beliefs and ideologies that are valid

he isn't emotionally bound to any of his characters, he will kill whoever, as long as the story is interesting

he's deliberately not trying to sexualize his female characters, not just because of his parents, but also because he wants to leave a respectable impression. Mangaka profession is very looked down upon. He wants to change that

his net worth is somewhere around $12 million

he wants to stay anonymous bc he enjoys his commoner life, there's a certain freedom to being a normal person, he can go in public spaces without anyone recognizing his face. For instance: he secretly went watching the jjk 0 movie in theater along with the opening comments on the first day. A fan accidentally met him but he pretended to be a staff member

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 52

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics. and a quick note before i start: happy one year, everyone! a year of fic rec fridays! i started doing these when my blog really started to take off, and it's been an honour to share these with you :)

A Kind Demon And A Scary Angel by vrepit-nah (anonymous)

Day 18 - Forbidden Love Shiro breaks his head trying to appease the angel and demon on his shoulders and stop them to killing the other. He soon finds out that he didn't need to after all.

making lance's troublemaking ass the demon. so real. poor shiro can never have a break in any universe 😭😭 he just wants to vibe and he just gets bothered by klance all the time

2. Of Friends and Rivals (And Lovers) by vrepit-nah (anonymous)

Lance McClain has a big family, and that means no one is really ever alone in a room at any point of time. It becomes unnatural for him to feel when he’s in space in a huge castle with barely any people. So, he tries to fill the hole in his heart by seeking out his teammates. It strikes Keith odd one day when Lance begins hanging out with him instead of his other friends, and worst of all, it seems like Lance is caving in on himself without anyone noticing. Or: 5 times Lance seeks out to hang out with a friend, and the one time he doesn’t.

the first time i read part v i gasped OUT LOUD bc i was like no way he's gonna fuck up that bad. no goddamn way. and then he DID and i HOLLERED

3. Today, anew by MemeKonVLD (MemeKonYA)

“Lance.” Lance’s eyebrows furrow in concern for a second before his whole face goes gentle and open. “Hey buddy, everything okay?” Keith nods. Then shakes his head, then opens his mouth to let out a noisy sob before he’s hugging the air out of Lance, grip vise tight. Lance hugs him back. That’s one of the great things about him— he doesn’t— he doesn’t need explanations for things like this. He doesn’t make Keith jump through hoops, the way other people might— he’s just— he just knows what Keith needs in times like this. No façades, no posturing. (Or: the one where Keith is trapped in a time loop. A time loop from hell.)

their worst nightmares are each other dying. i am going to lose my mind. i am sobbing and screaming and yelling on the floor. i am sucking on cement. nobody touch me

4. Visions by @snowwarning27

"It’s funny, because as a tattoo artist he makes art that lasts pretty much forever – as far as the person who has it is concerned – but a street artist…their art lasts maybe a couple of days." Keith comes in for a tattoo; Lance immediately falls in love. With his art. His love for Keith comes later.

it's usually tattoo artist keith but tattoo artist lance my LOVE. also i will never get over graffiti artist keith i think about him all the time the punk ass

5. story received, story included by @freshia

(4:20PM): u know, number neighbor, i think i need a chiropractor.  (4:23PM): ? (4:25PM): because my back really hurts (4:25PM): from carrying this conversation ;(

Lance texts his number neighbor.

i LOVE texting fics. they're so fun. and lance in a texting fic is always funny bc it's so obviously true that he would be so funny if he had time to think about it. and of course keith would fall for him over text

that’s it for today!! happy one year! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[sushiwriterhere]

open note

summary: your shoulders won't stop aching and Nanami sits across from you at the cafe | 3.1k warnings: nanami x reader 18+, reader is (lightly) cursed, PiV (unprotected), nanami follows reader around sorta (for protection purposes), oral (f receiving) notes: this is my first jjk fic, pls let me know what u think <3 (to all my tg fans.. hope u can forgive me). not sure who to tag but i hope if u read u enjoy!

It’s late. The letters on the screen blur as you try to keep reading–you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been sitting here, trying to slog through your latest assigned reading. It’s not usually like this for you, like pulling teeth or climbing up ten flights of stairs, usually law school feels like a blessing. 

Everyone warned you about competitive peers and cutthroat curves, but instead you found a community of people who shared your passion for the law and didn’t find it odd that you could launch into a twenty-minute rant about the poorly designed logic of originalism at any moment. It was comforting to feel like you’d found your place in the world, to feel like you’d found your path. Was, being the operative word here. 

Lately everything felt heavy, felt, off balance. Some days, you stayed in bed until you were sure you would miss the bus to your lecture hall, only to make it by some grace of god, half disheveled and not sure you’d brought everything you needed. Some days, your apartment was too quiet, the one-bedroom you’d always longed for feeling more suffocating than the freeing space you’d needed it to be. You’d smile at your peers but gently reject invites for drinks or group study at the law library, citing your internship or a family call, but really, you just couldn’t bring yourself to spend more time than you already were in other peoples’ presence. 

Your only bright spot is Nanami. Every week, without fail, at least three times a week, you find yourself sitting across from him at the cafe down the street from your apartment complex. It’s an odd, unspoken arrangement. The cafe had been crowded one Thursday morning and he’d wordlessly stood behind the chair across from you before sitting after you’d nodded once. He always orders the same thing, a hot Americano–though he’s taken to sliding a muffin across to you ever so often. 

Sometimes you think that when he looks at you, he’s the only person who can really see you. Other times it feels like he’s almost looking right past you, like he’s trying to make out the face of someone far over your shoulder.

Even so, it is a tender set of interactions that buoys you throughout the week, until you find yourself sitting in front of Nanami at a quiet restaurant. Whatever you’ve ordered at random is savory and tender, and pairs beautifully with the wine he chose. It’s also exactly what you would’ve picked. 

The candlelight illuminates his face in a way that throws his features into stark relief, masculine, chiseled, and so beautiful. He’s saying something, and you wish you could put your hand on his chest to feel the rumble of the baritone you know is there. You think it might ground you in a way you haven’t felt in a while. You feel like you’re watching the entire interaction outside yourself. 

Then he’s paying the bill and pulling out your chair, taking you by the hand as he walks you to the coat check. You let him slip your jacket over your bare shoulders, missing the way the way he stiffens when his fingers brush your bare skin. Everything feels so far away then, and you almost stumble out the door. 

You move your lips to form words, to thank him for the meal, the company, the kindness, but you can’t. The world is foggy and somewhere between your shoulder blades is a deep, aching sort of pain. 

I should see a chiropractor, you think to yourself, wondering if all your time laying on your side looking out your apartment windows has finally caught up to you. 

Standing in front of you, Nanami considers you. But he’s not looking at you, instead he’s looking at the curse curled across your shoulders. It’s small, but that doesn’t matter–he sees the way it pulses with a dense cursed energy. If he strains his senses, he can pick up on its scent, the almost acrid stench. 

It’s been feeding on you for a while now–he first spotted you from across the crowded cafe you both frequent–a small thing at first. He hadn’t wanted to startle you by trying to exorcize it in the middle of that crowded room. Instead, he sat across from you, made friends, even? 

Despite the curse, he enjoyed your presence. You had gentle features, smelled nice, and your brow furrowed whenever you were thinking particularly hard about something until you would reach up to smooth a few fingers over your brow as if push the wrinkle away. The feelings were on accident, really. He’d just wanted to keep an eye on you, make sure the curse wasn’t giving you too much trouble. 

After that he’d learned too much about you in his effort to ‘keep you safe’–

(“Nanami, where are you off to at this hour?” Nanami ignored the other man as he pulled on his jacket. 

He’d spent a few minutes too many indulging in a hot cup of coffee, now he was going to be late if he didn’t hurry. You always got off the bus at this hour, and the curse was starting to really settle in. He didn’t like the faraway look you had in your eyes as you walked; he wasn’t sure you’d notice someone following you or coming up behind you. You hadn’t noticed him yet.

Gojo really couldn’t help himself, he was too nosy for his own good. Which was why Nanami couldn’t tell him, rather, refused to tell him about you. But he was running out of excuses and Gojo was getting particularly good at delegating, so he was spending more time than ever hanging around looking for someone to bother. 

“Lock the door behind me.” Was all he said in response, cutting off the other sorcerer’s garbled protests.)

Now, standing across from you, he sees a beautiful woman being drained of her life as a filthy curse digs its talons into you. 

Against his better judgment, Nanami steps forward towards you. In the restaurant, the candle light lit your face from below. Here, the street lights are above, emphasizing the darkness under your eyes. You haven’t been sleeping. 

Your eyes are glossed over when you look up at him, but you place your hands on his chest, his dress shirt dimpling under your fingertips. Rising on your toes, your hands smooth over his shoulders. Something curls pleasantly in his chest at the way your eyes widen when your hands find his muscles. 

His hands find their way to your hips, slipping underneath the coat that you didn’t bother to button. 

The curse thrashes angrily the closer Nanami gets. He ignores it. He can smell the perfume you put on you dotted on your wrists, the insides of your elbows, and it makes something twist in his gut. It’s a startling realization to understand that you want someone’s smell on your sheets for the rest of your life. 

You watch as Nanami turns his head, nose dragging across the sensitive inner side of your forearm to dot a kiss in the crook of your elbow. It sends a shiver down your spine at the same time as the pain intensifies in your back. Your knees buckle as he catches you. 

Nanami carries you home. He picked a place close to you just in case he needed to get you alone (not like that) to rid you of the curse. You’re lucid enough to push your purse into his chest so he can fish the keys out and unlock the front door. 

The inside of your apartment is as much the one-bedroom of a law student as he’d imagined it. There’s a desk by the window with textbooks stacked on one side, and one open in the middle. Highlighters of every color are arranged neatly next to it, a stack of cutesy sticky notes tying everything together. 

“Can you stand?” His voice rumbles in his chest next to your ear, and for a few moments you’re free of pain and that ache, like some sort of noise therapy effect. 

You let him stand you upright until, in a flash, your breath is stolen from you. 

What did he just do to me? Who did I let into my house? You think in a moment of panic until you realize your back doesn’t hurt anymore. 

Nanami’s staring at you, a tender look in his eyes. One of his large, warm, hands is gripping your shoulder over your coat, and it grounds you. 

In a moment, your lips are on his. Maybe it’s the way he carried you back to your apartment, maybe’s it’s the way he’s been sitting across from you for three months now, steadily buying you sweets and paying for your coffees and teas. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s so tall, and so broad, and he looks at you like you hung the fucking moon. 

You hang on to the lapels of his coat as his mouth works furiously against yours. Weaving one hand into his hair, you clutch with the other at his shoulders for dear life as he pulls you into him. He’s got one hand cupping your face, the other around your waist. 

Suddenly you feel so full of life and you want him, desperately. You go to throw off your coat but he pulls back for just a moment. 

“Are you sure?” The mere tone of his voice does something indescribable to you, and you nod furiously as you tear off the garment. 

He shoulders off his coat as well and toes out of his dress shoes as he walks you backwards into the nearest wall. You groan in appreciation as he noses down your jawline, behind your ear, to the dip at the base of your neck. 

A shiver tears down your back as you realize he’s smelling you, inhaling the perfume you put on earlier. You pant as he just holds you there, taking you in. The tip of his nose is slightly too cold in contrast with the warm softness of his lips that follow. 

“Nanami,” you try, gripping at his shoulders for dear life as he goes to kneel before you. You want his lips on yours, want to taste the wine you both drank earlier from his mouth. 

“Patience,” He murmurs as he takes one of your legs over his broad, broad, shoulders and you keen, high, reedy, in the back of your throat at the way his teeth scrape at your inner thigh. 

You feel more alive than you have in six months and he wants you to wait? With everything in you you want him to hurry and fuck you, to feel the weight of him in you and around you in your bed, to have him tangled in your sheets. And yet he takes his time.

Nanami is a patient man. He knows what it is to bide your time for the good things–he used to be a salaryman after all. He has waited for this moment. The part of him that sympathizes with what you must be feeling right now, the surge of energy after the months of being drained like a maple tree. But though ever patient, Nanami knows what he wants. 

What he wants is exactly this–tugging your damp panties to the side with a crook of his fingers, tilting his head up and forward to lick up your center and to taste you. What he wants is to keep hearing the sounds you’re making, the sighs and staccato’d ah-ah-ah’s you can’t hold back as he sucks insistently on your clit. What he wants is to keep feeling the way you hug his two fingers, hot, and wet, and so tight and fluttering. 

You tremble against the way he leans against you, keeps you up against the wall. You’ve had people go down on you in your time, you’re in your late 20s not dead. But none of them have done this–have eaten you out like it’s for them, and not you. 

Nanami stays where he is til your hands twist painfully in his hair, til you’re shaking with overstimulation after cumming so hard you think you might’ve blacked out for just a moment. 

Your chest rises and falls quickly, yet in the most tantalizing way, as your nipples strain against the satin fabric stretched over your chest. Your eyes are wild and your cheeks are flushed as he leans in to kiss you ever so gently, only bothering to wipe his chin with the sleeve of his dress shirt so it doesn’t drip onto his chest. 

He has to wear that home tomorrow, you think to yourself, and something curls almost painfully in your chest from arousal. 

One by one, you open the buttons of his shirt as he kisses you intently. He runs his tongue along your teeth as you tug the bottom of it out of his slacks and his fingers tighten on your waist as you unbutton his pants and stick your hand in his briefs. God. He’s heavy and thick and hot in your hand, and you think you can feel his pulse from the way he throbs in your grip. 

He grunts softly when you slide down his length only to tighten your grip and twist your wrist. There’s not much room between the two of you, not with the way he’s pressed up against you, but you make an effort anyways. 

“Take me to bed, Nanami.”

So he does. He pulls himself away from your reach with a final peck, before grabbing your thighs and picking you up. It’s a certain sort of primal attraction you feel at the effortless way he carries your weight and sets you down ever so gently on your sheets. At this angle, you have the perfect view. 

His shirt, untucked and unbuttoned reveals a trim waist and a broad, muscular chest. The one you’d felt earlier. His slacks are tented and there’s a small damp patch just to the left of the middle seam. He flexes his hands once before kneeling before you once again. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watch as he slides your heels off one by one, ever so gently. 

You’d forgotten you were wearing them. 

As he shrugs his shirt off, you twist yourself around so you’re sitting on your heels, so you can pull your dress up and over your shoulders. His pants are halfway down his thighs when you reemerge and then you two are frozen in a momentary staring contest.

Nanami doesn’t think he’s gawking per se, but his gaze isn’t innocent by any means. Your satin dress is pooling off one arm, no longer framing your figure just so. Your nipples are hard and he thinks your tits might be the perfect size to fit in his palms (he’ll have to find out). Your panties are lace trimmed, and although Nanami of ten years ago might’ve rolled his eyes (“I’m going to take them off anyway.”), the man before you swallows dryly. The eroticism of watching you undress cannot be overstated. 

He finishes pulling off his slacks to give himself a distraction. You’re so beautiful it makes his chest ache, especially now that you’re not weighed down by grief and anger and sadness. 

You’ve made your way to the edge of the mattress by the time he stands to his full height again. Your hands are warm and soft against his skin as you explore the planes of his chest, scratching softly at the waistband of his briefs. You press a kiss to his sternum and something terrible blooms right underneath his skin. 

He leans down to press you into the bed so he doesn’t have to dwell on that for too long. Below him you’re soft and warm and so responsive. You sigh into his mouth when he drags a fingertip over your nipples, when he rocks his hips into yours. 

Eventually he rids himself of his briefs, and you wiggle out of your panties, an excited look gracing your features. He pretends it doesn’t affect him the way it does. 

When he finally sinks into you, he thinks he can’t breathe. It’s not some overwrought metaphor about being inside you it’s about being with you. You’re here with him, after he took you to dinner, carried you home, got rid of the curse. It’s you who’s moaning his name, scraping your nails across his shoulders and back. 

You’re tilting your hips up into his, gasping in pleasure, whispering filthy sweet nothings– “Been thinking about this since I first saw you–” “Feels so good, Nanami, you feel so good–” “Only want you like this–”

He finishes with a punched out groan and he feels the way you clench around him at the sensation. A hand slips between you two and he finds your clit again with his fingers, determined to get you off again. It’s only fair. 

Your face contorts in pleasure as you finish again, and the way you bear down on him makes his head spin. He holds himself above you as you both come down, resting his forehead against yours and trying to catch his breath–certainly not from physical exertion. 

When he pulls out, when he goes to stand, to find something to clean you up, make you comfortable for sleep, you catch him by the wrist. 

“Stay.” Is all you say, smiling softly at him. It’s so much closer to how Nanami imagined you’d looked before the curse, without its weight on your shoulders that he thinks he might be sick. 

And stay he does. He cleans you up tenderly then coaxes you into the bathroom so you can wash your face and brush your teeth. He follows your instructions dutifully on where to find a clean pair of sheets and hangs your dress up back inside the first empty garment bag he spots inside your closet. 

Nanami lets you press a toothbrush into his palm, lets you peck his lips with your lip mask on, and push him toward the bathroom with a smile. He made the bed. Your dress is hanging in the closet. 

It’s painfully domestic and nurturing in a way you maybe didn’t expect from someone who bed you on the first date. But then again, you’d wanted him to. (The underwear, the perfume–men.)

When you finally watch him climb into bed next to you, you’re more than satisfied by the way he tugs you into his arms and just holds you. There’s no pretense, no motive, nothing other than wanting to hold you and feel your skin on his. You feel lighter than you have in months.

[snifflie-ollie]

THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG (SINCE MAY???) HOLY SHIT

In Hiding

Two secret agents suddenly have to hide together. Tight spaces and itchy noses might make it difficult, though.

this is my first fic that ive been working on forEVER (i kept. um. getting distracted while writing...) sorry if there's errors!!

tags: sneezing while hiding, stifling, oc has the kink, failed holdbacks, inducing, allergies, i need to write them having sex now

Listening for the others outside, Audrey shifted slightly--as much as she could--to get a bit more comfortable in the space. Her and Robin were pressed up against each other suddenly. It was dark inside, only slightly illuminated by the cracks between the door and the wall, so she couldn't see Robin's facial expression inside the... was it a closet? a locker? She hadn't looked long enough to check, only rushing in as soon as she heard more voices. Whatever it was, it was way smaller than anticipated, and uncomfortable--she made a mental note to schedule an appointment with her chiropractor.

Of course it just had to be Robin she was stuck with. Pent up feelings toward them made for a very awkward position, as her struggle to remain professional began to crumble.

Suddenly, Audrey noticed a shift in Robin's breath, which she could feel on the base of her neck. It was sharper now, and she felt their body begin to tense up.

"When was the last time someone cleaned in here?" They whispered, soft enough that only Audrey could hear. "Shit, I have to sneeze. Can I muffle it into your shoulder?"

Fuck.

Audrey simply nodded, and Robin shifted to the suit fabric that she was wearing, hovering over it as their hitches grew.

Audrey could feel her heart pounding over every trembling breath. She wasn't paying any attention to the people outside anymore; how could she?

"Ha--haaahh..." Each hitch was a shake in their chest, just audible enough to pull Audrey in as the tension rose. She'd seen their nostrils flare the previous times, straight nose crinkling at the top. God, she wished she could see it now.

"hhHHXXSH--" they jerked, stifling into Audrey's shoulder, causing her to shudder.

Quietly sniffing, Robin pulled back for just a moment, giving a sniffle. "Fuck, sorry, I don't want to get your suit all gross."

"It's fine; I don't mind," Audrey muttered, attempting to hide her fluster. She really didn't mind.

"Shit, aahnother one--hh... hahh..."

She could feel their warm breath hitching against her again, quicker this time.

"HXXSHMF--"

This time they miscalculated, aiming into Audrey's neck instead, whose stiff outward appearance shattered as she melted in the moment.

"Audrey--"

She snapped back, trying to regain any sense of levelheadedness. "Hm?"

"Your... hhhair," they whispered into her ear, voice trembling, and Audrey realized in the faint illumination that her hair was now completely brushed up against their nose, some of it inside, tickling their already sensitive nostrils.

"Shit, let me--" she cut herself off, attempting to squirm around and move her hair out of the way. However, the moving just irritated the itch, and she realized that only a bit too late.

"Don't move, you'll ju... ah--HAH--H'ASHHXX!"

Robin just barely muffled in time into a now dizzy Audrey.

"What was that?" A voice boomed from outside, and the duo froze in place.

Sniffling, Robin scrunched up their face in the dark, something Audrey could now see as her vision adjusted.

She shook her head at them. Any noise now would give their position away and get them captured.

They nodded their head back at her--one they Audrey loved and hated about them. If Robin was going to sneeze, Robin was going to sneeze.

"Hhaahhh..." They began to hitch again, tilting their head back slightly. "HAhh-! Hhh..."

Audrey could see their nose trembling in the dark, their hands instinctively trying to reach up to it, so, without thinking, she took matters into her own hands and shoved a finger under their nose.

It was wet from the previous sneezes, and Robin flinched in enough surprise to distract their nose for the moment being.

Eventually, they could hear the sound of chairs shifting and people walking out as one of the voices grumbled about the end of a meeting.

After a few minutes of painstaking silence, they opened the locker to find the room empty again, and both sighed in relief.

"Okay, we've got the files, lets get the fuck out of here," Audrey commanded, looking over at Robin, who had a rolled up tissue shoved up their red nose with a dazed look. "What are you doing?!"

"I d,diidn't--hah--get the laaahsst sneeze out," they hitchily replied.

Crossing her arms, Audrey continued to stare, pretending to be unammused.

They sniffled, taking out the tissue. "Fuck, I can't get it."

Audrey rolled her eyes. "Here, let me do it."

Robin complied, and Audrey rolled up another end of the tissue and placed it in their left nostil, rubbing up and down the insides. She could see their fluster, but assumed it was simply from never having induced before.

"That reh, really tiiickles--"

"That's the point."

Now that they were in the light, this time, Audrey could see Robin's desperate scarlet nostrils flaring and trembling, begging for relief. She stuck the tissue further, circling the back of their nose.

"Ah, Audrey, I'm gonnahh--hAh--sneeh, eeze," they warned through hitched breaths.

Audrey didn't move, simply pushing in further until she hit a particually sensitive spot. "Shh, don't try to talk, just focus."

"Hhah... hh--hAH...!" They leaned their head back with closed, watery eyes, reaching up a hand out of instinct, though, it was futile; Audrey was in the way. Robin lurched forward, letting out their first unstifled wet sneeze in hours, and, unintentionally, all over Audrey.

"HhhHHAI'CHEW!"

Sniffing, they wiped their nose. "Fuck, that felt really good. I need to try that. You're great at that."

Audrey shrugged, but couldn't help but give a smirk. "I'm good at everything," she replied cockily.

With that out of the way, the two of them left. Both would think about the incident later that night, individually relieving the tension they'd had beforehand.