#but it makes putting text on gifs of him a nightmare.

[souliebird]

[[last call for sinners]]

fandom: Kin (AMC) pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Rating : explicit tags: Dom/Sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Subspace, P in V sex word count: 8k Summary: The weight of the world feels like it is on Michael's shoulders and you are there to make sure he doesn't crumble under it

The weight of the world feels like it's on Michael's shoulders even when it shouldn't be. 

Business is good. Anna texted him earlier without prompt. No one's been going at each other. He hasn't had an episode in a while.

Things are Good.

But his shoulders and neck are tight, his nightmares are flaring up again, and little things keep irritating him. It feels like something is winding up right inside of him, getting ready to explode. He feels trapped. 

Even walking back to his house after a fantastic dinner with Birdy, he feels like he's sinking into the earth, waiting for it to swallow him whole.

He turns the corner and sees your bike parked in his driveway, hidden from the street by the wall.

Part of him wants to turn around, go back to Birdy's so he doesn't drag you don't into his darkness. But he's selfish, so very selfish, and he doesn't want to be alone in the dark and you are such a bright light. 

Michael goes to you like a moth drawn to a flame, unlocking the door and calling out for you. 

"Here," is the response from the sitting room. It still feels like he can't pick up his feet, trudging through mud to get to you. 

You're sitting on the couch, looking like you just came from work. One elegant leg is crossed over the other and you are typing away on your phone.

"How long have ya been waiting, love?"

You look up at him with your eyes slightly narrowed and like you're about to lecture him and he freezes in his spot. 

If anyone else gave him that look, he'd put them in their place. 

But with you, you and that look and how he feels, he bows his head just a fraction. You don't say anything, just keep him pinned to his spot with your gaze. Until you tilt your head to the side just a fraction.

The air is squeezed from his lungs and Michael drops to his knees. 

You finally put your phone to the side and uncross your legs with an exaggerated slowness. His mouth goes dry as he watches you stand. You take your time, smoothing out your dress before you walk around the coffee table to him. 

The only sound is the clicking of your heels.

He keeps his eyes on your face and you don't look anywhere but his. 

You stop in front of him, looking down at him with that same hard look. You reach out and cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb along his beard. He can't help but close his eyes and lean into the touch. 

It's like a tether, keeping him grounded and stable, your touch.

"My sweet puppy," your voice low, just barely a whisper. He doesn't dare open his eyes. "Look at the state of you. Lost in that handsome mind of yours." You turn your hand just slightly so you can scritch your nail across his jaw. 

He swallows a moan.

"What do you think will happen if I let you stay down this path, hmm? How dark will those thoughts go? Do you think it will be anything good, Michael?"

"No, ma'am."

"I don't think so either and I don't like the thought of anything not good happening to MY puppy. And you are mine , right, Michael?"

"Yes, ma'am." 

You give a pleased hum and it sends a shiver down his spine. You continue to drag your nails along his beard and he's so glad you asked him to grow it out. He presses into your hand more. 

"That's right. So I think I'll bring you back where you belong."

Michael turns his head so he can kiss at your palm, "Thank ya."

You allow him to nuzzle and kiss at your palm for a moment before pressing your index and middle finger under his chin, guiding his head up. He opens his eyes to look up at you.

He feels so so heavy and he knows you know, the way your eyes dance over his face.

"Let's go upstairs, pup."

He stands up from kneeling, your fingers staying under his chin until he is at full height, then tracing down his arm to take his hand. You give his fingers a light squeeze then turn and walk towards the staircase. He follows, letting you guide him across the room and up the stairs. 

Michael doesn't know what he's done to deserve you, to deserve this. You always know when he falls too deep into the dark, even when he says nothing. No one sees him like you do - not Jimmy or Amanda or Birdy. You know what he needs even when he doesn't know.

"I can hear you thinking, Michael," you say, giving his hand another squeeze.

He doesn't respond, he knows he doesn't need to with you, but he does tighten his grip on your hand. He doesn't want you to let go. He needs you to anchor him.

You lead him into his bedroom, to the foot of the bed and you turn to face him without letting go of his hand. He doesn't feel like he's under a microscope when you run your eyes from his head to his feet. It's almost comforting knowing he can't hide anything from you. 

"Take off your clothes," you order, letting go of his hand to run your fingers back up his arm and placing your hand in the middle of his chest. 

He knows he nods, he just doesn't process it. You drop your hand from him as he peels out of his Henley. He drops it to the ground and goes for his belt next. 

His heart starts beating a little faster when you step away from him. He doesn't want you to leave him. He needs you. 

He needs you.

He steps after you, just to match the one step you took away from him. You watch him with those sharp eyes and it makes his throat go tight. You told him to do something and he's not doing it.

Instead of an order or a reprimand, your eyes soften and a fond little sigh escapes your lips.

"Oh, my poor puppy. You really need this, don't you?" He doesn't know how to respond, so he doesn't. You touch his cheek again and he presses into it so hard one of you might lose balance. "Help me out of this dress. After you finish doing what I already told you to do."

You keep your hand on him as he pushes his pants and briefs off as quick as he can, having to kick off his shoes mid process. He manages to get his socks off as well, and in less than five seconds, he's nude and half hard in front of you.

You rake your eyes over him again before dropping your hand again and turning so your back faces him. Your hair is already tied up in a bun, so it's easy for him to find the hidden zipper of your dress and drag it down. 

The sheath dress falls off your shoulders and to the ground and Michael is surprised to see nothing under the dress. 

His cock twitches with interest as he remembers you rode your bike here.

As much as he doesn't want to, he keeps his hands to himself. 

You step out of the dress and face him again, now only in your high heels. 

You start to walk past him, beckoning him to follow with a finger. He's at your heel as you head into the bathroom. 

Two towels are already set out and he can't help licking his lips. You've planned all this - what you're going to do to him and he just wants to melt into it. Let you take control.

God, he needs it so much. You're too good for him.

He waits as you turn on the shower, watching as you test the water with your hand. Once it's how hot you want it, you glance over to him. All it takes is a look and he knows what you want. 

He goes into the shower, hissing as the spray hits him. It's scorching hot but feels good against his shoulders. He tilts his head down so it centers on the back of his neck, hoping for some relief from the tension.

You step out of your heels and into the shower behind him, your hands going to his shoulders and smoothing down his back. Michael shudders under your touch.

You don't speak as you run your hands over him, digging your nails in just enough that he can feel them. He closes his eyes and tries to focus solely on your touch.The shower feels like a cage, closing in around him. The spray is so loud in his ears and he doesn't like the feeling of the water clinging to his beard, weighing his head down more. Everything is just so much, except for your fingers on skin. They start going higher, dancing up his neck and teasing the ends of his hair. 

He doesn't know if seconds pass or hours, but eventually, you start wetting his hair, combing through it until it's slicked back. He hears you uncap a bottle and a moment later you are massaging product into his scalp. You coat his hair in it, then start digging your thumbs into the base of his skull. He leans back into it, inhaling steam into his lungs as he does. 

Whatever you are using isn't his normal shampoo. There's a hint of mint to it - nothing overwhelming. He rather likes it. It reminds him of the tea you drink in the mornings - when it's just you and him before everyone else wakes up. When the world is quiet. 

When he knows he's happy. 

When he knows you're happy.

As you wash his hair, Michael feels the stiffness start to bleed out of his shoulders.

 It never feels this good when he showers. You're using your nails and rubbing in little circles and he swears you must be a witch because it's not just the tightness in his body you're washing away, the tightness in his chest is fading. For the first time in hours, it feels like he can breathe. 

He lets himself inhale through his nose. 

Behind him, you give a pleased purr, "That's my good pup. Let me take care of you. Be good for me. Let go."

Michael hums in response. Letting go would be nice, wouldn't it? He trusts you - the only person outside his family he trusts. You're the only person who's seen him like this - this vulnerable. Others think they have, but they haven't. They haven't come close.

You kiss his shoulder then gently tilt his head back so you can rinse his hair out. It feels nice, the warm water with your fingers. He likes it when you run your fingers through his hair. You only do it when you're alone together, so it's become a little special to him. You always make him feel special.

He doesn't know if he makes you feel special. You put up with so much shite for him. He doesn't do nearly enough for you. 

He doesn't deserve you. He doesn't deserve this. 

"Shhh, none of that, now," you say, dropping your hand to his shoulders and nudging him to face you. He turns and you put your hands on his shoulders again - stepping forward. He steps back until he's pressed against the shower wall. You stop in front of him. You cup the side of his head and guide it to the nape of your neck. He buries his face into you, arms starting to shake from emotion and restraint.

"You can touch, pup," you whisper into his hair. 

Before you even finish giving permission, Michael's arms are around you, clinging to you.

You resume running your fingers through his hair as tears start sliding down his cheeks. He doesn't sob or shake, it's a sort of quiet release. It doesn't hurt and he's not angry - he just breathes deeply through it, letting it happen. 

You're holding him. You choose him. You don't sneer or run away. You know who he is - what he is. 

He wants to be yours so badly.

And you call him yours. 

You slide your free hand between you and wrap it around his cock.

He didn't realize how hard he was and it makes him whimper.

You start to stroke him, from the base, achingly slow up his shaft until you get to his head, which you squeeze just perfectly before starting back down again. Michael groans into your shoulder, dropping his hands so he can squeeze your waist. You tug at his hair a little and he nuzzles against your neck in apology.

You graciously accept and continue dragging your nails over his scalp. You pump his cock at a slow but steady pace. 

You're breathing into his ear. All he can smell is mint and you. All he can feel is you - your hands touching the most vulnerable parts of him, your body against his. He darts his tongue out so he can taste the salt on your skin. He wants to be consumed by you. 

He is consumed by you. 

You cradle him as you stroke him over and Michael is completely lost in the sensations. He wants to stay here like this for however long you will allow. To him, there's nothing outside your arms.

It is you and him. 

He wants all of you. He wants to give himself all of you. 

You kiss the shell of his ear as you work over his cock and Michael moans your name.

You respond by squeezing at his base, "Being so good for me, Pup. Always so good for me." He shivers at the praise, desperately needing it, needing you. He presses his face more into your neck, tightens his hold on your hips, and even attempts to shuffle impossibly closer. You're practically flush against each other.

"Let me take care of you," you purr against him and he nods, not really processing the words. He trusts whatever you're saying. He trusts you. He needs you. 

You press another kiss to his ear, then let go of his cock. An upset noise comes from the back of his throat and you gently shush him again. He rubs his cheek against your shoulder, needing more of you touching him.

"Don't you want this, puppy?" You breathe into his ear, tugging his head by the hair enough he lifts his head up to not be completely hidden against you. You press two fingers against his lips and smear something on them.

It's your own arousal and he greedily sucks your fingers into his mouth, wanting to taste you. 

The fact you want this, want him when he's like this, makes his own arousal even more intense. It's a heady feeling, at the base of his skull where you're petting him, and wrapping around his mind like a fog. But it's you, you're the fog, wrapping him up in all of you and it's not anything he wants to fight.

You're taking care of him. You always take care of him. 

He wants to take care of you. Be good for you. 

Be good to you.

"I think it's time to get out of the shower, puppy," you hum, pulling your fingers from his mouth. He tries to follow them, but the hand in his hair keeps him in place. "You need to put that mouth to good use."

His cock twitches so hard he can feel it and he nods, licking his lips for a lingering taste of you. 

"Please?" He asks, his own voice sounding far away to his ears. 

You know him so well because you don't let go of him to turn off the shower. Instead of hanging onto his hair, you take his hand again and step away. He doesn't cling. You're not leaving him.

He holds onto your hand and leans back against the cool tile wall. He manages to open his eyes to watch you. You placed the towels so you wouldn't have to leave the shower to get them and when you fully return to him, one is in your hand. 

You squeeze his fingers before letting go so you can use both hands to start drying his hair off. He tips his head forward so it's easier for you and for a few moments the towel blocks his vision of you. 

It makes his heart flutter nervously, but you are still there. He can feel your hands rubbing around his head through the towel and he can see your feet are only centimeters from his, but you don't have skin to skin contact and he doesn't like that. 

But he has to be good for you. He has to be, so he stares hard at a bead of water dripping down your leg. 

As he starts to feel his breathing get heavy, you flip the part of the towel covering his face up and back, so it's folded over his head. 

You cup both of his cheeks and bring him forward so his forehead is touching yours. 

"There's my puppy," you say, a soft little smile on your lips. You look so relaxed and happy and you're touching him again. He feels himself smile back at you as a pleasant calm settles over him again. You reward him with a feather light kiss to the cheek.

You once again take his hand and step out of the shower. He follows, looking down to where you are connected. Your fingers are hooked around his, thumb ghosting over his knuckles.The small comforts you give him make his head spin - he doesn't understand how you always know what he needs. 

And right now, Michael needs you. 

You lead him back to the bed and with your free hand, point to the ground. He kneels down slower this time, keeping a hold of your hand and nuzzling into it once on the floor. You turn your hand so you can pet his cheek, smoothing your thumb over his skin. He leans into it, tilting his head up to look up at you. 

"I have something for you," you purr. 

A questioning noise comes from deep in his throat. You hum, your lips turning up into a pretty little smirk. You scritch his chin and step back slowly. He doesn't like you stepping away, but he trusts you to come back. He doesn't want the buzzing in his head to fade. 

He doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts. Not like this. 

He closes his eyes and waits, because he doesn't want to see you walk away from him.

"You've been so good to me, so good for me, I thought you deserved a little treat. Something special."

He listens to your voice as you go to the closet. You rustle around briefly, then you are back in front of him in a few steps. 

Michael opens his eyes when you touch his cheek again. You're holding a slim but large black jewelry box and he doesn't understand how it could be for him. He furrows his brows, tilting his head a little in question and you just smile down at him. 

You tilt the box so he has the perfect view as you slowly reveal what is inside. Laying on a bed of deep green velvet are two pieces of matching jewelry.

In the center is a watch. It's sleek and all black and he knows by the brand it is an expensive model. It's a luxury piece, but it isn't showy. It's subtle. He doesn't know a lot about watches, but it's beautiful - it's something he would have picked out for himself if he was in the market for a luxury watch. 

Resting around the watch is a necklace - a thick black chain with an O ring in the middle. Like the watch, he can tell it's an expensive piece. 

It's not a collar you would have bought down at the local sex shop. 

Because it is a collar. You're presenting him with a collar and it is making his mind spin. 

He wants to be yours so badly, to submit himself to you fully, but a collar is a lot. He knows it is a lot and his Pride wants to fight it. He can't even imagine what his family would say.

But he wants to wear it for you. You got it for him and you want him to be Yours and that thought alone has his cock weeping. 

"Can I put it on you?" 

Michael nods, his mouth going dry and throat going tight. 

He wants it. If he doesn't like it, he trusts you to remove it, he knows you will, but he wants to feel it around his neck. He wants to know what it feels like to be truly yours.

You place the box on the bed so you can lift the collar up. It feels like he's watching you in slow motion and all he can focus on is your fingers around the chair. 

He wants them on his skin instead. 

There's no closure on the collar and it just barely slips over his head. You rest it around his neck and the O-ring rests just above his collar bone. It's heavy, much heavier than he expected it to be. It's not a weight he'd be able to ignore - he'll always know it's there. 

He'll always know he belongs to you. That you want him. That you need him in the same way he needs you. That despite everything he has done, everything you've seen about him, you still choose him. 

His fingers shake as he reaches up to feel where the chain rests. It's so cool against his hot skin. It sits loosely, not constructing his neck or making it hard to breathe. It feels Good. 

His attention is pulled away from the collar as you remove the watch from the gift box. You hold out your hand in front of his face and it takes a moment to process what you want from him. 

Michael places his left hand in yours and you slip the watch onto his wrist. It's heavy like the collar - he won't forget it's there. 

"The collar," you hum, latching the watch so it's snug, "is for just us, but this is for always, my pup. So you always know you are mine, every hour of every day." 

You bend down so you are face to face and cup his in both of your hands, smoothing your thumbs over his beard, "what do you think, Puppy? Do you like what I got you?"

He doesn't know how to answer. His throat is getting tighter and burning and he wants to scream and cry because _yes_ . He loves what you got him. So very very much. He just doesn't know how to express it. It's all too much and not enough. He tries to give a shaky nod, but all he manages to do is press his face into your palms with a whimper. 

It isn't until you kiss away his tears does Michael realize he's crying. 

You brush your nose over his and part of him wants to just bury his face into your shoulder again. 

You have other plans for him - one hand wraps around his cock again and it sends a full body shudder through him. You use the heel of your hand to smear precum over the head of his cock, teasing with the pressure but not giving him the pleasure. His hips start twitching and he wants so much to fuck up into your hand.

But he wants to be good for you, so good, deserve his collar and what you do to him, so he tries his best to not move. He closes his eyes and lets you consume him again.

It's easy for him to sink into your light. The buzzing and headyness are taking over his skull again and it's just as good as any high he's ever had. All other sensations are lost and all Michael feels is your hands on him and the cool metal hanging around his neck. 

It's perfect. It's so fucking perfect and good and you finally, finally, curl your fingers around him again and pump. The tightness is coiling in his belly and his thighs are starting to shake. 

He's so close. 

He's so close but then you take your hand away again and he wants to sob. 

You start to stand again, but you lean in so you bump against him as you raise. Your chin brushes his nose, then your sternum, and Michael groans and leans a little bit forward so his lips drag over your stomach. When you're fully standing, your cunt is just in front of him. 

His cock is so hard and leaking everywhere but none of it matters - not when you're asking this of him. 

Michael tilts his head back, and he feels like he's praying up to you. 

"Please?"

You put your leg over his shoulder, and using the hand still cupping his cheek, guide him to your core. 

Your cunt is dripping wet and Michael wastes no time burying his face into you. 

"Good boy," you moan, pushing your hand up to thread your fingers through his hair. Your grip is tight, but he doesn't care because he's where he should be. Where he wants to be. 

He rubs his nose over your clit a few times before nuzzling down. He just wants to breathe in deeply but he's so greedy that he can't wait and buries his tongue inside you. 

You tug him even closer into you and he reaches up one arm to wrap around the leg on his shoulder. His fingers dig into your thigh, half to cling desperately to you, half to help hold you up. The hand not holding onto his hair drops to hold onto his arm and your nails bite into his flesh. 

Michael eats you out like a man starving because that is what he is. He's starving for you. Your juices are soaking into his beard and all he cares about is More.

More of you. More for you. More You. 

If you want to ride his face until the sun rises tomorrow, then he will be on his knees all night for you. 

He fucks his tongue in and out of you, wanting to prove you aren't wrong to want him. He wants to show you how good he can be for you. 

You're the one who deserves to cum, not him. 

You start to grind your cunt into Michael's mouth. His other hand shoots up to grab onto your hip, encouraging the motions. He wants you to use him. He wants to beg for it but that would mean removing his mouth from you, and that's something he won't do unless you direct it. He's yours and he will do whatever you ask, and right now you want his mouth on your cunt.

He drinks greedily from you, helping you keep balance as you use him. It's not harsh, you're enjoying him. Your soft breathy moans are going straight through him and his cock twitches hard with each one. 

He dares to open his eyes. You're looking down at him, looking blissed out as he feels. 

He moans loudly when he feels your legs start to shake and tightens his grip on your hip and thigh, pulling you even closer. You hunch over him and you push your hand through his hair to the back of his neck. You start to grip the hairs there, but then your hand drops and grabs onto his collar. 

You yank on it and Michael's vision goes white. 

It feels like he's fucking floating. His toes are curled so tightly it hurts but in a fucked up good way. 

He knows your legs give out and you crumble into his lap, and the sudden change causes him to topple you both over, but it's like he's not aware of it. All his fucked out mind thinks is he can press his face into your neck again. 

You roll so both of you are on your sides, legs tangled together. You move his arms so they are wrapping around you loosely, then cradle his head to your neck. He hugs himself to you on instinct and buries his face into you. 

You hold him, one hand cupping the back of his neck, still holding the collar, the other tracing up and down his back.

He can feel it, on the edge of his haze, the soothing motions of your fingers. Part of him wants to give into the haze, follow it until he falls asleep. It's such a strong urge. 

But he wants to be with you more. Like this. Wrapped in each other, nothing else in the world mattering. 

He can feel you smiling against his temple. 

He did that. He made you smile like that - from his mouth, his hands, his actions. 

He just feels warmth radiating through him. 

He doesn't know how long you lay there on the floor, but eventually his hip starts to hurt and that pulls his mind away from the lazy way you were petting his spine. 

Michael turns his head so he can kiss your cheek while rolling you onto your back. Once he's over you, he presses his forehead to yours and smiles sleepily down at you. You return his smile with your own.

"Hey there," you whisper, stopping your motions so you can cup his jaw. "How're you feeling?"

He gives a pleased hum in response and nuzzles his nose against yours. Your smile grows and you close your eyes. 

You just barely put pressure on his jaw and guide him down to kiss you. 

It's slow. He still feels calm and hazy and he wants to stay in it a bit longer with you. You're on the same page as him - you keep the kiss nice and lazy. 

You hum against his lips and he pulls back just enough so you can speak, "Don't think I'm done with you yet."

"Yeah?" He asks, starting to pepper sweet kisses over your cheeks and chin. You melt under him, just a little bit, giving a happy sigh.

He takes the opportunity to start kissing down your jaw to your neck. He starts sucking a mark into you and you tilt your head to give him more access. It is a gift and he treats it as such, taking his time to enjoy you. The salt on your skin tastes so good on his tongue, where it's mixed with your juices. He lives for this raw essence of you. 

Michael starts to slide down you, intent on getting your nipple into his mouth, but you give the faintest tug on the chain around his neck. His head snaps up to look at you.

You're looking at him through your lashes, a hint of amusement in your pretty eyes. 

"The floor isn't very comfortable, Michael," you tease, dropping your hand away from him.

 He licks his lips and pushes himself up so he is kneeling between your legs. As he stands, he helps you up and as soon as you are in front of him, his hands go to your waist. You loop your arms around his shoulders while leaning forward so he is supporting your weight. 

"Can I take ya to bed?"

You push up on your toes so you can give him a sweet peck on the lips, before whispering against him, "No." 

Michael furrows his brows, confused. You kiss him again.

"But since you've been so good, I'll let you follow me into it."

You drag your nails across his back as you step away from him, stretching your arms out to put distance between you. He doesn't want that, so he tightens his grip on you and closes the gap, stepping into your space again. 

You smirk at his silent challenge. You hook a finger through the O-ring around his neck and lean in until your lips are barely brushing his.

"I said I'm not done with you, yet, Michael Kinsella. Don't make me change my mind."

He feels his cock start to twitch back to life with that and can't help the grin starting to spread across his face. 

"So how do ya want me?" 

You tilt your head towards the bed and he huffs a little laugh, "Aye." He drops his hands from you and lets you go to the bed. You sit on the mattress, then scoot back until you're fully on it and at the head of the bed. 

Michael waits until you are settled then climbs onto the bed and kneels by your feet. You lazily drag your eyes over him, sizing him up like you plan to devour him. 

You probably do. 

He's already half hard at the thought.

He wants to lean in and kiss you. He wants to show you how thankful he is for you, what you have done for him, but as you said, you aren't done with him, yet. 

Michael's more alert now - the feelings of drowning in his thoughts long gone and the wonderful drop you gave him fading away. He wants you. He wants you in every way you'll allow him. 

He's yours, heart and soul and body, and you are his. He wants to remind the world of that. He wants to mark you and fill you and claim you in every way that matters - to the world, to his family, to you. 

You lounge there, like you are waiting for him to make a move, but he won't. You told him to behave and even though he's itching to do just the opposite, he'll do as he's told. 

Michael's usually the one more in charge in the bedroom and this dynamic is still new and he doesn't want to mess it up. He didn't know how much he needed it until you proposed putting him on his knees and now he doesn't know if he could live without it. He wants to be your Pup, now and forever. 

You turn from him and arrange the pillows so you can lean back and be slightly propped up as well. You take your time with it and he enjoys just watching you, even if it is a tease.

You finally lay back and relax into the pillows. You go back to looking him up and down and while you do, you spread your legs. 

Michael leans forward so he can crawl on his hands and knees around your leg to get around it. He can't help but smile up at you. 

You reach for him and he very eagerly goes to you. You once again guide him towards you. He keeps his hands on the bed as he leans in to kiss you. 

"Woof," he whispers as your lips meet. 

You huff in fondness before he surges in to deepen the kiss. You melt under him, parting your lips for him and sinking down into your pillows, but he knows better than to think he's in charge. He just needs to be closer to you and you're allowing it. 

Michael resists the urge to grind his hips against yours. He's already worked up again, cock bobbing against his stomach, but he wants to take his time getting you to the same level. He's yours, and he'll do whatever you desire, but after you did such a good job caring for him, he wants to return the favor. 

He kisses down to your neck, nipping lightly as he does. It earns him a pleased sigh. Your fingers find their way to his hair, carding through it again. He's careful to not leave more marks, not because you don't like them, but because you haven't given him the permission again. 

Right now he just wants to touch and feel and be Yours. 

He bends his elbows so he can kiss down your chest without putting any of his weight on you. He nuzzles at your breasts, teasing your nipples with his tongue, but continues his path down instead of latching onto them. Michael wants his face between your thighs again and he doesn't want to wait. You don't redirect him, just drag your nails over his skull.

"Yer fuckin' perfect," he whispers as he lowers himself to lay on the covers. You put your legs over his shoulders and he turns his head so he can kiss your inner thigh, unable to stop the smile forming on his lips. He drags his lips down until he can nose at your slit. 

You're still so very wet given neither of you even attempted to clean up. He makes sure to get your juices all over his mouth, in his mouth. He wants to waste none of it, and once he's licked it all up, he finally starts towards your clit. You give a little whine when he first nudges it and part of him wants to tease, listen to all your pleading little noises because he's so addicted to them, but the weight of the chain hanging from his neck reminds him of his place. 

Michael finally sucks your bud into his mouth and the moan you give is music to his ears. He wants so badly to make you fall apart, to thank you for pulling him out of the darkness he was starting to drown in. 

"Michael," you gasp, arching your back just slightly and he has to resist grinding into the sheets like a teenager. 

He squirms a little to get more comfortable, repositioning his arms to hold your hips up just enough where he has the perfect angle to worship your cunt without making his neck ache. 

And worship Michael does. 

You grip his hair just enough he can feel it but it doesn't hurt and when he does something you like, your fingers curl and you scratch his head. He knows it's developing into something for him, because every time you do it his dick jumps. 

Between the two of you, his comforter is going to be soaked with your juices and his pre-cum. 

He growls at the thought and pulls you closer. You moan, digging your heels into his shoulder blades so you can push your hips up. 

He gets up into a kneel, gripping your hips to raise you up with him. Your knees go over his shoulders and he slides one hand to the small of your back to hold you up. You gasp at the sudden change but trust him to hold you up. Your thighs start to shake around his head. 

"Fuck, Princess," Michael groans when you rock into mouth. 

The hand not holding you up comes up over your belly and down to your clit. His thumb takes over for his mouth and he starts to fuck you with his tongue.

You taste so fucking good and your noises are just spurring him on. 

Your hand is so tight in his hair in the most perfect of ways. It's keeping him right against your cunt. He couldn't ask for anything more perfect. You are starting to pant and gasp. Your walls are pulsing around him and all he can do is chase your noises. 

For the second time that night you come on his tongue. He only pulls away when you tug at his hair. 

Despite how Hungry he is for you and his cock being so hard he feels like he wants to scream, he lowers you down to the bed with all the care in the world. 

He kisses your calf as he removes it from his shoulder. 

You relax into the bed, twisting a little to stretch out, a happy smile on your lips - enjoying the afterglow of your orgasm. He drinks in the sight of you and it makes his heart soar. 

You look so fucking beautiful and when you smile up at him, his brain just tells him to get closer to you.

Michael crawls forward until he can oh so gently kiss your lips. 

"Good boy," you purr, cupping his jaw and using your thumb to pet his cheek. "My good boy."

"I need ya, Princess," he says, pressing into your touch, "please let me have ya. Need to feel ya around my cock. Need all of ya."

You hum against him then take his bottom lip between your teeth to tease before releasing again, "Need you, too. Fuck me, Michael. Fuck me like you mean it."

He doesn't need to be told twice. 

He reaches between you so he can guide his cock to your opening. He rubs his head over your slit, getting himself nice and slick with your juices before starting to sink into you. 

You're so perfectly tight and start squeezing around him before he can fully sheath himself in you. 

"Gonna cum if ya keep that up," Michael grinds out, trying to keep control of himself. He wants to bury himself in you, but he doesn't want to hurt you.

"Want that, Puppy," you pull him back into a sweet kiss and you're biting at his lips again, "Want you to fill me up 'til it's leaking out of me. Want you to fuck me 'til there's nothing left in you to pump into me. Hear me? Can you do that for me, Puppy?"

Michael swears and rocks the rest of the way into you, only to pull back out halfway so he can slam back into you.

You want to be fucked and nothing is going to keep him from giving you just that. 

The pace he sets is brutal. 

But it's what you want and as he fucks you, you push the pillows down the bed until they are under your hips. The angle changes and he can bury himself even deeper into you. He growls out your name, tilting his hips as he pounds into you until his cock starts dragging across that sweet spot inside you. 

"Right there, Michael, puppy, my puppy, right there," you start to chant, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him deep in you. 

He nods, sweat starting to drip down his face and arms. "Whatever ya want, love, I'm yours. Yours," he pants, words just falling out of him. 

One of your hands grips onto his bicep, nails digging into his flesh so hard it sends jolts down his spine. He gives a hard thrust in response and you cry out again. Your walls are squeezing him, pulling him deeper into you, and he just wants more.

He needs to feel you come undone around him. 

Michael's hand goes to your throat, wrapping around it and squeezing. 

Your entire body goes rigid as your orgasm rips through you. The headboard bounces off the wall repeatedly as he fucks you through it, but the loud thuds are covered by you screaming his name.

You're going to wake the whole damn neighborhood and the mere idea of it gives him a third wind.

He wants everyone to hear you. To know what he does to you. What you bring out of him. 

Michael is so lost in you, in making you feel like you're on another world, he doesn't notice your hands go up to his shoulders until you grab onto him. With a sudden movement, you roll, flipping your positions so he is under you. You snatch the wrist of the hand around your throat and pin it to the bed right above his head, that hungry hungry look back in your eyes. 

He is still inside you somehow and you purposefully squeeze around him. He rolls his head back with a loud groan, "Fuck, pet. Are ya trying to kill me?"

You drag your nails down his chest, digging in enough to leave angry red scratches. Michael hisses, the pain making his dick twitch inside you. You lean down so you can bump your nose against his, a wicked smile playing across your lips, and whisper against his lips, "I'm not your pet tonight, Michael. You're mine."

He almost loses it right then, needing to close his eyes tightly so he doesn't come before you are through with him.

"Put your other hand up, Puppy. Can't have you touching me again without my say so."

He easily obeys, throwing his other hand above his head. You cross his wrists and pushing them down into the bed with one hand.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, having to focus so he doesn't buck up inside of you. 

Your other hand crawls up and you press it down on his throat, enough he can feel the weight of you, but there is no danger of you hurting him.

You so very slowly start to swirl your hips and Michael throws his head back. You know just how to work him - taking your time in teasing him. You're keeping him fully in you, just grinding your cunt against him. It is completely agonizing in the best of ways. He could spend forever like this and be over the moon with it.

Your lips brush his as you begin to speak in a hushed but authoritative tone.

"You belong to me, Michael Kinsella. Isn't that what you promised me?"

He tries his best to nod, but your hand keeps him in his place, "Aye, yes, I did. I promised ya. I'm yours. I'm yours."

You bite his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. 

His thighs start to shake. It's taking Everything in him to not flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. 

"What was the condition? What was the condition that I get to put Michael Fuckin' Kinsella on his knees and call him My Puppy?"

"That ya be Mine. I needed ya to be mine."

"So make me yours, Michael."

He flips you over and fucks you into the mattress.

He buries his hands into your hair, gripping it and tugging enough to make you cry out again. You squeeze around him and he nearly sees stars. 

He smashes your lips together and all teeth and hunger and Possessive. 

 You're his. 

You've seen all of him, every side of him, the happy, the sad, the anger, the blankness, the coked out of his mind, and quiet somber mornings. You've seen him beaten with a bat and held him after he spent the nights taking lives. 

And you're still his. 

"Michael, please!"

Your cunt clenches around him and you start to milk him as he starts to spill into you. He fucks you until he's completely spent, then all of his strength leaves him and he collapses down onto you. 

You catch him with a happy little noise and bury your nose into his hair. 

He still has enough awareness to pull out of you and roll over onto the bed so he won't crush you. You tuck yourself against him, throwing your arm over his chest and resting your head there with the most content sigh. He wraps his arm around you, holding you close against him. 

The moment he closes his eyes, Michael knows he's going to be asleep. When he looks down at you, he sees you are almost there. You look so peaceful and happy and it makes his heart soar. 

He presses his lips to your forehead. 

"Thank ya, Princess."

You tilt your head up, eyes just cracking open and smile up at him. 

"Thank you, Puppy."

And that's all you need to say between you.

You close your eyes at the same time as Michael and he drifts off without a single thought.

--

a/n: I posted this previously but realized i never posted it on tumblr, so im throwing it out there while I'm unable to write for ATIMY.

[kitnita]

wyatt johnston postgame   —   LAK vs DAL   —   01.16.24

[um, not to make more than it maybe should but, like, have you talked to joe about, when you get put on the line that he’s kinda been on, about what it’s like to play with those guys and things like that?]   a little bit. i think, um — not as much, you know, kinda like today or the past couple days but … just kinda, always? just kinda the way that those guys kind of stay tight and they’re always connected, always, um … just making small plays to each other. i feel like that’s one thing that he’s always kinda talked about, and that’s, you know, we try to take that from them, they obviously — um, you know, play really well together. um, so yeah, i just think kinda learning and then seeing them play and then, um, for me, just trying to jump in and, um, do, do the best thing to help them. [playing next to roope, just, what do you see from him and how he’s able to drive a line? he does good on the PK and powerplay too, but, how he’s able to play.]   yeah, um, i mean, he’s a lot of fun to play with, he can, obviously, shoot the puck really well, um … really good vision, can make some really good plays and obviously he’s, you know, one of the fastest players in the league, so, i mean, he can really do it all, which is — you know, makes him a lot of fun to play with. and, um, yeah, i think for me it’s just … um, i mean, trying to find him, i mean, he’s pretty good at finding open spaces and he’s good at finding you when you’re in an open space. um, yeah, i mean i think overall, just a lot of fun to play with. um, yeah, obviously, you have a really special player.

[sinofwriting]

Private Professor - Max Verstappen

Words: 5,576 Summary: For years and years, Max has claimed that he has a girlfriend, but no one has ever met her and he refuses to talk about her with the media. And it’s far easier to believe that he’s lying when no proof of a girl exists. Note(s)/Warning(s): Small Age Gap (Reader is nearly two years younger), Some Angst, Mostly Fluff, Jos Verstappen. Thank you so much to the anon that requested this! I had a lot of fun writing it!

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At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship is all blood rushing to their cheeks, fluttering hands, kisses that last too long and not long enough, panting breaths, and hickeys below shirt collars. It’s whispers of forever, of I’ll take you here and there. That house will be ours one day. Whatever you want, you’ll have. I’ll be on break, you’ll come home and I’ll be waiting. You’ll follow me everywhere and I’ll do the same.

It’s promises they don’t realize they shouldn’t be making but do. It’s sweet nothings and petty fights that last a day before they’re back in each other's arms. It’s pretending not to notice how his dad watches him amused as he walks calmly out of the door before sprinting over to her house and sneaking into her bedroom. It’s her parents pretending not to hear the thud of him falling into her bedroom and the light giggles their daughter makes.

At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship changes. It’s no longer seeing each other when he doesn’t have a race or training and is home, no Red Bull duties to be done. It’s long phone calls, texts, snapchat streaks, learning how to video call. It’s carrying two power banks with them everywhere and Max buying them both expensive phone cases that charge their phones. It’s falling asleep on the phone while the other is just beginning their day. He attends classes with her, while she listens to him train. He goes to red bull meetings and pretends not to have the light sound of breathing in his ears from her falling asleep while studying or doing her homework.

Fifteen and seventeen, brings them peace. She’s still studying like a mad woman at Harvard of all places, but he’s got an F1 seat of all things. He’s in F1. He suddenly has more things to do but more free time. When he’s not racing or at the factory or doing weird press things that make him want to rip his hair out, Jos is putting him on a plane to America, to her. And he soaks up all the time with her he can, despite it being filled with her studying, attending classes, and forcing actual food down her throat which her parents both thank him for.

It also brings the stupidest thing in the world; the doubt and disbelief that he has a girlfriend.

Carlos is the first to bring it up upon seeing his home screen that’s just all black, not even the default that iphone has.

“No girlfriend?” Max frowns at him, pocketing his phone and sending a glance over to where his father is standing and talking to his race engineer. “What?” “Your home screen, it’s all black. You don’t have a girlfriend?” Carlos is teasing, joking. The whole paddock already knows that Jos Verstappen wouldn’t let his son have a girlfriend, not now when he’s got an F1 seat. Such a thing would be a distraction and Max isn’t allowed those. Max isn’t allowed friends on the grid either. Carlos wonders though how much the last part is just a Jos thing. “I do.” Then he says her name, all soft and sweet in a way Carlos never thought Max could be. It’s nearly enough for him to believe Max, but then he catches a glimpse of Jos and shakes his head, clapping the seventeen year old on the back.

He is the first to not believe Max, but far from the last. It’s Daniel next, Christian, Esteban, Pierre, Sebastian, Lando, every interviewer that asks.

It doesn’t matter because at seventeen and nineteen, she gets her second degree and begins the nightmare of getting her doctorates in education and history. And he picks out a ring before making his father hide it away. And instead of him constantly flying to her, she’s flying to him. Hiding out in his Monaco apartment, turning his living room into a disaster zone as she spreads her things around to study.

The mess drives him crazy, but he doesn’t move anything no matter how much his hands itch to do so, instead just pressing a kiss to the top of her head before pressing himself in between her and the couch. Grinning when she sends him a look, a clear don’t be a distraction, before giving him a kiss.

His days in Monaco when she’s there are spent in the living room after training, playing fifa or watching some documentary for one of her classes with her, and poking at her lightly because he doesn’t know shit about history but he’s still able to remember countries quicker than her.

They turn eighteen and twenty and nearly get married when her family goes on vacation to Vegas, dragging the two along despite them not being able gamble, which is the only reason her parents had chosen Vegas. The only thing that stops them from getting married is him not being a US citizen and her visa just being for school. It’s a fucking wakeup call for him and he can’t help but pester her about places in Monaco to live.

She entertains it for all of five minutes before she’s cupping his face and kissing him. When she pulls back, she’s shaking her head. “As long as it has you and four bedrooms, I don’t care.” “Four?” “We’ll need our own offices and a guest room.”

It’s barely anything for the real estate agent to work with but he doesn’t care. He wants something that’s at least four bedrooms, two baths, a decent kitchen, and a view. She liked the Monaco sunrise and sunset and he planned on letting her be able to see it anytime they stayed in Monaco.

His agent gets back to him in a week and he ignores the look on Daniel’s face when he comes over for the first time. Ignores the jokes about it being too big for one person just like Daniel ignores him saying that he has a girlfriend.

“If you had one, I’d have seen a picture of her mate. The whole world would.”

Max still remembers the way his jaw had twitched at the thing everyone said. That if he had a girlfriend, they’d have seen a picture of her, that he’d be showing her off every second, have her at the races, been seen with her. When Max had made it abundantly clear that the worst part of driving was the media, the fame. So why would he ever subject someone he loves to that when they both weren’t ready for that?

Because they weren’t. He wasn’t ready for another part of his life, one of the most important parts, to be something for everyone to look at and dissect. And she wasn’t ready for it either. Not when she was doing so much studying. She barely felt like she had time for him, which he denied and hated vehemently, she didn’t have time for the online vitriol of being a girlfriend to a high profile athlete. And she didn’t need to be harassed as she attended classes and studies groups and such if someone recognized her and didn’t like that she was with him.

Not showing any pictures or videos of her was also easy for him. It wasn’t because he didn’t have any, he had hundreds. But they were pictures and videos of her, only meant for him. Not because they were dirty in nature, though some were, but because how she was in them was something only she allowed him to see. It was photos of her with a finger pressed to her top lip as she glared at her books, videos of her sitting on something too tall for her feet to touch the ground and letting them swing. It was her smiling at him, all fond, shy and in love.

It was them wrapped up in each other's arms and love. Her in between his legs or the other way around. Her sitting on his lap as Vic stole his phone to video them laughing and exchanging kisses. Her giggles as she tries not to fall asleep as reads her books to him over facetime. It’s her in her purest form and he doesn’t want the people in his life who are so quick and sure to not believe him to get to see that.

Nineteen and twenty-one, she officially co-owns their place in Monaco and he starts scouting out property in Belgium and land in France that’s somewhat close to the principality he lives in. It was too early to start building a house to live in forever, not when they weren’t sure what they wanted to live in forever with their kids, but it wasn’t too early to buy the land for it.

It also leads to their biggest fight in years.

“Max!” Her nails are digging into her arms. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying that I want to help, that I can pay. I have money!” “And you don’t need to!” He’s yelling as well, face red with anger. “I’ve got money too! You don’t need to pay for shit when I can.” She shakes her head. “Really? Is that how it's always going to be? I won’t ever get to pay for anything? Just have a salary and trust fund wasting away.” She scoffs, giving another shake of her head. “Is it about being the breadwinner? Because don’t worry Max, I’m well aware that you’ll always have more money than me. Doesn’t mean I can’t contribute to our life.” “Fuck.” He murmurs seeing the tears brimming in her eyes but not falling, the hurt in her words. “It’s not about that at all. It’s not about being the breadwinner.” “Then what is it about?” Her voice is high pitched. “You won’t let me pay for a single thing! I can’t buy groceries without you slipping money back into my wallet. I can’t help pay the bills and now you won’t let me help buy the land that will have our house on it. What is it about Max?” “You’re mine.” Her eyes widened at his quiet but firm tone. “You’re my girlfriend, the love of my life. One day my wife and the mother of my children.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, feeling words and feelings he’s only ever really let come out during sex or when they're both so drunk they barely remember anything the next day. “I want to pay for everything because it’s providing for you, it’s making sure you’re eating, sleeping somewhere safe, getting the best, most accommodating flights. It’s knowing that I’m providing for my family.”

“Max,” she breathes out, arms falling away from her chest and then she’s moving closer, resting a hand over his racing heart. “You want to provide for me?” He nods. “For our future kids?” “Yes.” “So do I. So, we’re going to work on this. You want to buy the land, you can.” He looks at her distrusting, because this didn’t sound like working on it. “But, I get to pay for groceries when I go out for them, without you paying me back. I get to pay for netflix because I use it more and spotify.” She adds. He frowns at her. “I don’t like it.” “Too bad and I’m not done. In return, you get to pay the bills, put gas in the car for me,” he grins at that. “Pay for my flights and we are going to open a joint account to put an equal amount of money in every month. For things like vacations, anniversary dinners, and the kids. Because it’s important that I get to help provide for them too. And when we build that house together, I want to pay at least half of the contracting fee. I’ll let you pay for the rest.” “I want to pay for any of the kids' interests. Like art, ballet or karting.” “No deal.” She shakes her head and he’s frowning again. “You can pay for all the karting, it will mean more. But I want it out of the shared account for the other things. Unless,” she pauses. “Unless,” he encourages. “If any of them decides to go to university early like me, I want to pay fully for it.” “No.” It’s quick and now she’s frowning as well. “It’s our children and their education. Shared account.” “Their first degree.” He shakes his head. “And if it’s their only degree?” Her brows press together, it was a good point. Just because they decided to go to university early like her didn’t mean they’d go for more than one degree. “First year.” His eyes narrow as he looks at her, but he nods. “First year. But only of the first degree.” “First degree only.” She agrees.

It’s quiet between them before Max lets his face soften, lips twisting slightly into a smile. “Are we done fighting?” She laughs, but nods. “Yeah. We’re done fighting.” “Thank god.” He breathes, pulling her into his arms and burying his face into the crook of her neck. “Let’s not do that again.” “Not anytime soon at least.” “I love you.” He murmurs. “I love you too.”

Twenty and twenty-two has their families asking when exactly they’re getting married, wondering why there isn’t a ring on her finger and their only saving grace is their time spent in Monaco together away from them all. But when it gets to be too much as pressure builds as she tries to finish her doctorate in education while still working on her doctorate for history, it’s Jos that steps in for her and Max.

The three of them shared a complicated relationship. She could never like him for the parent he was to Max growing up. From the near abuse he hurled at him when he failed, the pressure he put on a child, the leaving him in a foreign country for a few hours when he wasn’t even a teenager more than once. But she did love him, because Max loved him and in his own way he loved Max and he showed that with his support of their relationship when everyone expected for him to have a problem with it, label it as a distraction. And now as a few years had passed and Max was comfortable in his F1 seat, he was Max’s fiercest defender, unwilling to back down, but would if Max told him too. And he was her fiercest defender as well. Glaring at jokes about her not needing a degree with the money Max made, not forcing her to join on trips when she was busy with school or questioning her support of Max because she didn’t attend races.

So, neither Max or her are surprised when Jos steps in when her grandparents are trying to back them into a corner as to why she doesn’t have a ring on her finger and how they have a number for a wedding planner and she should really give her a call, when all they want is to get breakfast before retreating to their room so she can resume her studies while Max hovers around her while going over his own work.

She hadn’t been thrilled at first when she learned that Jos would join them on the trip, knowing that Sophie wouldn’t be there, but now she was grateful and she made sure to squeeze his shoulder before leaving the kitchen and scheduled a nice quiet dinner for herself, Max and Jos as thanks.

The media becomes relentless when they’re twenty-two and twenty-four and Max wins his first championship. Because there is no girlfriend in sight despite the now champions thanks for her support and love. They tear Max apart for creating a fake girlfriend that has no name or face, call him unloveable with his fake championship. Some tear her apart as well, calling her gold digger, selfish, undeserving, fans of Max and the sport do as well.

It was supposed to be a happy moment for him, one of if not the best in his life, but it’s tainted, ruined, and as soon as he’s home with her in Monaco, all she can do is hold him and pretend that the texts from his friends begging him to go out and get laid don’t make her cry later in the shower.

Despite the texts and a bold one from Daniel about hiring him a prostitute, she forces Max to go out, to celebrate with the drivers in Monaco, to get drunk and have fun, and forget what the media is saying about him.

“I’m coming back if one of them even hints at a prostitute.” He tells her and she laughs, but she knows that he’s serious. He’s never even once considered cheating on her and one of their first serious fights had been about her trying to convince him and herself that she’d be okay if he got lonely while he was traveling and needed someone. He hadn’t believed it for a second and it had been one of the few times he had been so pissed at her that he couldn’t even stomach to look at her.

“Am I making a mistake, mom?” She asks, barely five minutes later, not even bothering saying hi when her mom greets her over the phone. “No.” Her mom’s voice is firm and has her blinking away tears. “But,” “No.” Her mom cuts her off. “Sweetheart, I can’t even begin to try and understand Max and yours relationship. But this, this privacy that you two have, that’s not a mistake. It’s rough right now and it will be. And it will come back later when you two do decide to be public, but it’s not a mistake. You two both made the difficult, heartbreaking, mature decision to keep it private for both of yours sake.” “I know.” She whispers, wiping away tears. “You both still need privacy and there is no shame in that. Max isn’t ready and neither are you. As far as I’m concerned the only mistake you two have made is still not being married with a baby on the way.” “Mom.” She groans and her mom laughs. “I know, I know. Just remember that despite the seven or so years you’ve been together, that you two are still young, still doing so much growing.” “Thank you.” “Of course.”

When Max arrives home hours later, drunkenly stumbling around and into bed, she’s not surprised by the smell of liquor clinging to him or the drunken murmurings he’s pressing to her skin. She is surprised by the deep inhale he takes and the splutter that makes her turn to face him.

Eyes a little blurry from sleep and wine, she makes out squinted eyes, flushed face, and a frown.

“You’re drunk.” “You’re drunk.” She replies, curling closer to him. “You’ve been crying.” “Yeah.” He slips an arm around her, pulling her closer. “We’re going to feel like shit when we wake up.” “Yeah.” He chuckles, brushing lips over her forehead. “That bad?” “That bad.” She nods.

At twenty-three and twenty-four, the itch that Max has had since he was nineteen, one that’s grown worse and worse as the years have gone by, is too persistent and he takes a quick trip to his fathers house the day after she turns twenty-three and returns with a ring and the promises they made at fourteen and sixteen, promising them all over again, as she stares at him with a smile and teary eyes.

“I’d be stupid to not want to marry you Max.” She tells him when he slips the ring on her finger, breathing a sigh of relief when it goes on, fitting perfectly. “You’re going to marry me.” She nods, giggling at his blown pupils and silly grin. “Yes, I am.”

It seems stupid to be so giggly and flustered about it, so love sick, when they’ve talked about it so much. About getting married, about houses, kids, life after racing and teaching. But it’s different with the ring on her finger. Not more real or tangible. Just more.

“I know I proposed early.” She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around his neck and his arms eagerly wrap around her waist. “It’s perfect. I know we talked and had plans, but this is perfect. Besides, I’ve got news of my own that’s early.” “Oh?” Max’s eyebrow raises and he knows it’s not possible, not really with her religious use of the birth control shot and the way they mainly use condoms, more for convenience than anything else, but his eyes drift down to her abdomen that’s exposed. There’s no difference, but he can imagine what it would look like, he can also imagine what it will look like in a few hours. “Not that.” Her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth. “I got an email about my viva exam.” “Your viva? But you haven’t submitted your thesis yet.” “Actually,” “Stop.” He lifts a hand to press it against her mouth. “You submitted your thesis already? You completed it?” She nods, her laughter muffled by his hand and he drops it. “Well, what did it say? The email.” “Once I get to the ceremony, I will officially hold a doctorate in education and history.” He kisses her before she can say anything else.

“Unbelievable my love, unbelievable. Two doctorates by twenty-three.” He shakes his head, smiling wide. “You know what that means right?” He shakes his head again, unable to think of anything. Too overcome with his proudness and love for her. “I’ll have my position at Harvard right after the ceremony.” Blue eyes widen. “And they agreed to let me teach a mix schedule for all of 2022, but when the official school year starts for 2023, I’ll just be teaching digital.”

Twenty-three and twenty-five has them weathering the media storm once again as Max wins his second world championship. It’s worse this time. Not because he says more than he did last time about her or says her name or slips up and calls her his fiancee and not girlfriend like they agreed to. But because this championship no one can deny is his and she’s still not there. Too busy in a different continent with the start of the school year as she teaches by herself for the first time since earning both her doctorates.

It’s also not as bad this time, because some of his friends do think that he’s seeing someone, not the girlfriend of years, or even really a girlfriend, but just some random girl that understands he’s too busy for an actual relationship and willing to put up with him spouting to the media and everyone else that he’s in a committed relationship. She doesn’t have time to focus on the media and fans that believe she exists, she barely did last year, but this year she really doesn’t.

“You know,” she says five days after he’s won his championship and they are in the house they have stayed in for the past two years when she has to be at Harvard and he wants to join her. “Around this time next year, we’ll be public.” His face does a weird contortion at the thought. There was a giddiness to the idea, to the thought, but also dread. “That means,” she continues when Max doesn’t say anything. “That you have ample time to figure out how you want to tell people.” “How I want to?” “Yeah. This is your world, your friends, colleagues, nightmares,” she adds and they both laugh. “You can decide how exactly you want to get back at them for not believing you.” “I’m not going to be cruel.” “No.” She lifts her hand and lets her pointer finger trace over his lips. “You’ve never been a cruel person, Max. But you can be a menace.” His eyes light up at that. “Oh. And you don’t care?” She shakes her head, “This is all you and I’m more than happy to be along for the ride.”

She is twenty-four and he has just turned twenty-six when he decides to enact his plan that he came up with so many months ago.

He had made a reservation for a private hall in Monaco months ago, hired a party planner to take care of the finer details, but sorted himself out the place and the food and drinks that would be served. And the day after he turns twenty-six, he picks up the large stack of enveloped invitations he had made and carefully packs them in his suitcase for Qatar. He was winning the championship there and he’d be damned if he didn’t make an already memorable weekend even better.

It’s the first time in a decade she has traveled with him to a race to actually watch the race and not just be there at the hotel to support him as she studies and he can’t help the smugness and happiness that radiates off him when he shows up to the track for the first day.

He’s got his backpack over his shoulder, but the invitations are already in his hands, ready to be passed out.

“Max!” Charles greets when he arrives in the driver's debrief room. All twenty of them, plus reserves, team principals, and Daniel sitting and standing around as they wait for the FIA representative to get here. He looks down at his watch, noting that it will at least another ten minutes, before his eyes flicker to a member of the Red Bull staff that’s standing against a wall, but just like he asked, they’ve got a camera in their hands and there’s another one standing leaning against the opposite wall, also with a camera. “Charles. Safe flight?” “Always. What do you have there?” “Ooh,” Daniel chimes in, moving closer and looking at the envelopes in his hands. “What do you have there?” He smirks and he can see Daniel’s grin flatter at the sight for a brief second. “Invitations.” He says, before tossing or passing them around to the different drivers and Christian. He nearly avoids giving Lando one just to be a shit but Toto isn’t there to give it too and it wouldn’t be the same to give it to a different team principal jokingly.

“What is it for?” Carlos asks, eyeing the dark envelope like a lot of the other drivers are, suspiciously. He shrugs, eyebrows raising when he sees the way Lando is feeling the envelope. “Mate, I’m not giving you money.” Lando frowns, before ripping it open. “You’ve got more than enough to spare.” Seeing Lando open his, has the rest of them following suit.

“Dear friends of Max Verstappen,” George reads out and the wording earns a few snorts but he continues. “You are invited to celebrate at the” he pauses squinting at the french on the page. “The Salle des Étoiles” Charles says. “Cheers, mate. You’re invited to celebrate on the 8th of November at 4pm.” His eyebrows furrow. “Celebrate what?” Max watches from the corner of his eye as Christian flips the invitation over and nearly chokes.

“Your engagement?” “Your what?” “Engaged?” “Impossible.” “Lies.”

The whole room is filled with denial and panic and Max just smiles, nearly laughing when Logan thrusts his invitation into James’ hands and asks the team principal if it’s true.

“Max, you aren’t engaged, right? Like that was a fuck up with the print place?” Daniel is nearly pleading, begging, and Max would feel sorry, but for the past ten years he’s been telling people he isn’t single, and sure he’s never shared many details, but they all refused to believe or even consider it. He ignores him, instead looking at the room in large. “You’ll meet her tomorrow. She’s very excited about it.” And as if he planned it, the FIA official walks into the room and no one can question him.

When the meeting is over he manages to avoid all of them except for Christian, who nearly drags him into a private room.

“Is this real?” Max raises an eyebrow at the way he’s waving around the invitation but nods. “Yes.” “You’re really engaged.” “Yes, Christian. I am.” The older man stares at him, not blinking before sighing and running a hand over his face. “Is she pregnant?” “What?” “The girl you’ve been sleeping with recently. Is she pregnant, is that what this is about? Because you don’t have to marry her.” “No one is pregnant.” He reassures, not even able to find any anger for Christian and his assumption. The older man sighs again before sitting down and slumping in the chair.

“You’ve had a girlfriend since you were sixteen.” There’s regret, guilt, and sorrow in his voice. “Yes.” “And I never believed you.” He shrugs, it had hurt yes, but he had always understood Christian’s disbelief in it over anyone else's. “No.” Christian nods. “And I owe you both an apology for that. I should have believed you Max.” “Thank you.” “But really, ten years and you’ve just put a ring on it?” Max groans, rolling his eyes. “You sound like our families.”

They are twenty-four and twenty-six when Max wins his third championship, with the sprint race of all things, and the whole world watches as he’s enveloped by his team before he’s tugging off his helmet and kissing the unfamiliar girl that’s between Christian and Jos, shielded from the rough crowd of Red Bull mechanics, crew, and such. They are twenty-four and twenty-six when everyone finds out that Max had been telling the truth the whole time.

Just about a month later, she eases into the spot between Max and the arm of the couch, eagerly tucking herself closer to him when he drapes an arm over her shoulders.

“You alright?” She nods, “Yeah, Vic and Tom finally left.” Max snorts, “It only took them thirty minutes.” “A record for them.” She grins, before looking at the other people surrounding them, or rather Max. She wasn’t surprised that Max had taken to quickly grabbing a few people and secluding themselves in a corner. She was a bit surprised by the people however.

Charles and Daniel which isn’t too surprising, but there’s the three rookies of the season, Liam, Oscar, and Logan, as well, a little surprising, but nothing compared to the two Mercedes drivers also in front of her.

“You aren’t trying to get Lewis to play paddle are you?” Lewis laughs, shaking his head. “I get enough of competing with him on the track. There’s no convincing me there.” “It’s fun, Lewis.” Charles says. “You should join. George you too. Make it Mercedes versus,” he pauses, eyebrows scrunching together as he tries to think of something to call himself and Max. “Lestappen.” She offers, inching away a bit when Max pinches her side. Charles doesn’t notice the pinch, just smiles at her, before looking at the two British drivers. “Yes! Mercedes versus Lestappen.” His eyebrows then furrow. “What is Lestappen?” “Mate, you don’t want to know.” Liam tells him. Logan chuckles, “I don’t know. Either he finds out now or he finds out when he googles it later.” “Googles it.” George murmurs, mocking the American accent that Logan has. “Bloody Americans.” “Yeah, yeah, tea and crumpets.” Logan waves off Georges mocking with a grin as he looks at Charles. “It’s what people call you and Max, a nickname you could say for when you two are together.” She tells him before Logan can say anything. “Oh,” he frowns, considering. “That doesn’t sound so bad.” “It’s not.” She assures.

Before anyone can say anything else, someone joins their group, eyes focusing on her.

“Dr. Y/L/N, congratulations on your engagement.” She looks at the older man in surprise before quickly standing to shake his hand. “Toto, a pleasure to see you again. And please you don’t need to call me doctor.” Toto smiles, tilting his head forwards, conceding as she sits back down. “Doctor?” Daniel questions, eyes flitting between her and the Mercedes team principal, not sure of what to make of the interaction, though Max seems perfectly fine with it. She presses her lips together and she can feel Max move a bit closer as Toto’s eyes narrow at Max. “Yes.” She tells Daniel and the rest. “I managed to get both of my doctorates last year.” A few jaws drop and Lewis whistles. “And I thought you were just a teacher.” Toto’s looking at her now, with narrowed eyes and she sighs.

It would be just her luck that despite having just met the man once, that one time had resulted in a long conversation after he gave his guest lecture at Harvard.

“You told them you're a teacher.” “I told them I teach.” She corrects. “Let's not make a big deal out of it.” “I want to make a big deal out of it.” Max mumbles and she sends him a pleading look. But Max doesn’t give in, instead he turns to the rest of them. “She’s a professor at Harvard. She got both her doctorates at twenty-three and quickly was signed on as professor.” “So, what you’re saying,” Oscar starts, breaking the silence that has fallen over the group. “Is that she is way too smart for you?” Max laughs, eyes crinkling and body bending forward from the force of it. “Without a doubt, mate. Without a doubt.”

@cixrosie @darleneslane @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @fanboyluvr @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @benstormy @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @boiohboii @topguncultleader

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part four.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), sex work, pet names, alcohol, mentions of drugs, jokes about death Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part three. / return to part one. | masterlist

Night comes around.

You do not call.

In fact, you don't call the Scout Services Hotline a single time that whole weekend.

As you scroll mindlessly through social media in your bed, fluttering between apps without retaining a single word or meme, your cell phone weighs heavily in your hand.

Don't call.

Just don't call.

It isn't like you're devoid of things to do.

Going out is an option.

Being around people may help your mood — but you don’t feel like unearthing from your snuggie poncho.

Putting on a movie can be a great distraction — but you know your attention span would barely last through the opening credits.

It was him.

Right there.

Right in front of you.

Levi from Scout Services, alive and in the flesh, holding your phone.

No amount of mental gymnastics can make you doubt otherwise. 

He has a voice like no other; one that haunts your day dreams and soothes your nightmares, one that brings this sudden urge to do better for yourself—

Ironically, to be independent and strong on your own.

Which, actually, really fucking sucks now that you’re stuck with the decision to totally disappear from the gym, too.

(Kind of thwarts the whole ‘new me’ chest-puffing you’d started Friday with.)

So you make a final decision:

You still have to go to the gym Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Even if you say nothing, keep to yourself, remain a shadow, you have to go.

(There’s a fragile line drawn in the sands of reality. You can toe the edge, but you refuse to. This is his livelihood. You’re not delusional to believe you’re a main character exception.)

Coincidentally, Levi goes every day, too. 

Your stomach flip-flops with the unsettling realization that your perch on a treadmill actually gives you a perfect vantage point to watch him as he sets his station up every morning.

Meticulously he sets towels down to place his shaker bottle and water thermos down, as if worried the ground hadn’t been cleaned overnight.

He even takes the disinfectant cloths and cleans every dumbbell he lines up neatly before starting his workout.

The dark-haired man truly is less-than-average in height, which isn’t a turn-off to you in the slightest, but his arms — his goddamn arms.

Levi wasn’t kidding when he told you that he could pick you up.

He could probably pick two of you up, one arm each.

They’re so toned, his forearms veiny from morning dehydration.

Training vigorously in his own world, not once does he notice that you’re the bumbling idiot that’s tripped on the treadmill (see: a few times) from dissociating.

Hell, he hasn’t a single fucking clue that you’re close enough to yell across the room to him.

Would he know?

That you’re Scarlet.

His, in some made-up world.

(Does your voice stand out in a sea of lonely people?)

The cleaning ritual extends to his cooldown, where he properly cleans each piece of equipment before nestling it back in its place.

Levi sits on his phone for a second, dropping down to a bench to scroll — text messages.

(Damn it, have you really resorted to minor stalking?)

As soon as he stands, though, you drop your chin to watch your sneakers rhythmically pass one another on the treadmill belt.

He passes like a ghost, evaporating into the men’s locker room without a word.

This is torture.

You miss him.

But you still refuse to call.

Can't — because in another world you may be his, but in this world, he is not yours.

.

.

— —

.

.

    Tuesday night rolls around and you decide you hate life.

Annie, Eren, Reiner, and Mikasa are already there by the time you walk into the downtown hotspot.

The boys as well as Mikasa are still in their suit attire from work, their ties loosened at their necks. Annie’s in a hoodie and jeans, clearly much more interested in having a comfortable evening.

If the emptied shot glasses are any indicator of the plans for this evening, then you steel yourself for one hell of a Wednesday.

You glide through the busy crowds of the bar towards the group.

Bodies upon bodies crowd this place — it’s never not a zoo at this hour, no matter the day. Saying excuse me would only waste breath. 

A live band croons on the far end of the smoky bar, forcing everyone to talk ten decibels higher just to hear the conversation.

(Can’t you turn around and go home while you’re ahead?)

In the sea of people, a pair of emerald green eyes over by a cluster of tables in the right-hand corner catch your movement. They widen, recognizing your face, and a lopsided grin of surprise follows.

“Holy shit, she left her cave!” Eren yells, holding up a cheap beer in salute to your arrival.

(Thanks Jeager, you little fuck.)

You don’t hear what she says, but you can see Mikasa’s lips part in tandem with a sharp elbow jab straight to his ribs.

Eren instantly falters his salute, souring in pain.

“I know. Don’t be so shocked,” you state to your colleagues, leaning up against the circular high-top table. “Am I the last to show?”

“Nah, you’re right on time. Armin and Jean’re on their way,” Reiner grunts, holding onto a comically small cosmopolitan in his rather large hand. “Sasha’s on babysitting duty with Nicco.”

You look around the bar for any other familiar faces.

“And Connie?”

“Passed out,” Mikasa supplies. “Took edibles after work.”

“There’s no chance in hell anyone’s waking him,” Eren snorts. “Fucker’s toast.”

Reiner sighs. “For what it’s worth, Jean tried.”

“No, Armin tried,” Annie corrects, finally piping up. She holds something on the rocks — brandy? Whiskey? You can’t tell. “Jean just laughed and kept trying to draw shit on his face.”

“You didn’t see the Snapchat he sent?” Eren asks after a gulp of his beer.

You shake your head, knowing damn well you’ve avoided using your phone for the last several days. 

Missed texts, abandoned tagged tweets, your streak in your mobile game ruined — anything so you wouldn’t be tempted to click that little number.

Damn it.

Enough wallowing.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you state, disengaging with the table. “Anyone need anything?”

From your peripheral, you see a familiar mop of blonde hair walking towards your group. At his side is a much taller man sliding through the crowd, navigating the shorter one to the tiny table you’ve commandeered from the masses.

Armin and Jean.

Reiner and Annie shake their heads.

“Nope, I’m solid.”

“Good here.”

“Eren’s got the next round of shots,” Mikasa flatly states. “You’re fine.”

“Ha, hell yeah!” Eren exclaims, before he settles into a confused pause of silence. His head whips to Mikasa, blinking twice. “Wait, what?”

You don’t stick around for that aftermath.

Squeezing back into the lion’s den of people, you try not to get hit with any too-full beverages or waving hands.

You manage to weave and duck, eventually finding a small empty corner at the edge of the bar.

Success.

You rush to claim it before someone else can, your forearm on the wooden surface. 

Holding up two fingers to get the one of the three bartender’s attention, she nods once to acknowledge she sees you — she’ll get there eventually.

Two empty stools are available, so you scoot onto the one closest to the wall while waiting for your turn and drop your purse onto the other while you situate yourself. 

It’ll likely take a while if the busyness of the staff has anything to say about it.

An hour.

All you need to do is last one whole hour.

Chat a bit, mingle a little so everyone at work doesn’t think you’re a total goddamn recluse, then you can go—

“Is this seat taken?”

A question sounding to your left breaks your train of thought.

The seat.

The one next to you, where your purse lay.

Way to go, dumbass.

You answer on autopilot, not thinking twice about it.

“Oh — shit, yeah. I mean, no! No it’s not. I’m sorry.”

As your torso turns to grab your purse off of the deep red stool, your eyes drop to make sure nothing spills out of it.

“Hold on, let me just move—”

Your chin lifts to find yourself staring eye to eye with Levi.

Wait.

Levi?!

His cheekbones look even sharper under the warm hue of the bar lights overhead, lips parted like he was interrupted in asking a question.

The whites of his eyes grow more prominent with every passing second, making the blue-gray color of them stand out in stark contrast to the black curtain of fringe falling against his temples.

The realization that you spoke — that he’s seen your face before — seems to be hitting him like a goddamn freight train.

Your blood runs cold as your own eyes round.

“...my stuff.”

Weakly you finish your thought, wishing for nothing but death right now. 

Maybe a stranger, like a secret agent with wicked strength, will simply rush the bar and put you in a headlock and knock you out. 

Maybe your drink will be poisoned. 

You’re happy for anything so long as it’s swift.

Levi grunts in acknowledgement, slowly finding a spot on the empty stool beside yours.

Both of you swivel towards the bar, staring ahead.

Silence.

For what feels like hours, neither of you speak. The noise of the bar becomes overwhelming.

Somehow the surrounding voices feel amplified when you’ve lost your own. 

It’s trapped between a thousand apologies and half a dozen explanations that sound worse than the one before it.

You need to get up.

Excuse yourself out. 

Leave.

You won’t get your damn drink, but that’s fine so long as you’re not here.

“How’s your phone?”

Eventually Levi speaks, and you find yourself wishing he hadn’t. 

The effect of his voice is even worse in person — so buttery smooth, the gravel much deeper in his chest now that there isn’t a phone receiver to dilute it.

“Not… damaged,” you reply cautiously.

“Good.”

Another stretch of silence passes, and you forget about ordering drinks altogether.

Your eyes drop to view his folded hands, how the veins protrude even when resting.

His fingers are slender, strong, and hate yourself for yearning.

You have to apologize.

This is crossing a line.

You need to—

“So—”

“I’m canceling my subscription.”

You blurt a fraction later than Levi, proclaiming your innocence before he can ever condemn it.

When you meet his steely eyes, they squint with curiosity.

From the crown of your head to your chin, he assesses in a serpentine pattern before eventually finding your eyes once more.

“How come?” he asks, leaning further against the bar top.

“I— how come?”

You repeat his question in surprise.

Wildly gesturing towards the space between you with your hand, you snort.

“Uh, because that’s the right thing to do in this circumstance? Because seeing you in person is borderline unethical?”

He hums at that, not giving you much to work with.

“And for the record, I did not stalk you to this bar.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“I’m actually here with friends—”

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

Levi interrupts, seemingly unbothered by your rambling. 

“At the gym. I can make an educated guess and say you knew it was me from the second I opened my trap, but you didn’t say anything.”

Why isn’t he freaking out?

Shouldn’t he be freaking out?

Just as you open your mouth to continue professing your innocence, the bartender walks over and points to you.

“What can I get you?”

You blanch, no longer remember how to order drinks. 

“I—”

“I got her tab,” Levi interrupts casually, tapping his index finger into the counter. “Two hard seltzers.”

Then he has the audacity to glance your way.

“Pineapple, right?”

Holy shit, he remembers your favorite flavor?

Is this a flex?

(It kind of feels like a flex; a way to say I know you, I was there.)

“...pineapple’s fine,” you murmur in return, hesitant.

The bartender doesn’t waste another second to rummage in the mini fridge on the other side of the bar for two slim cans.

For another agonizing thirty seconds, neither of you say a word.

He raises his chin to watch whatever sport’s game is playing overhead on the television.

You stare at your mirrored reflection in the bar backsplash.

This is real life.

The man you’ve spent hours talking to over the phone to, getting off to, is sitting right beside you, yet he isn’t trying to create distance.

If anything, he’s buying you a damn drink and asking you why.

Why didn’t you say something?

“I didn’t say anything at the gym because that would have been extremely inappropriate,” you finally argue under your breath, keeping the conversation strictly between you. “What would I have said? ‘Oh hey, guy I've paid to talk to on the phone every single night for the past week. Isn’t it crazy that I actually go to the same gym as you?’ That’s so creepy.” 

When he says nothing, still staring at you, you continue to bury yourself into a deeper grave.

“I mean, I thought you lived, like… a billion miles from me. Maybe from another planet.”

His brows pinch with amusement. 

“On Mars, or…?”

Oh.

He’s joking.

He’s actually joking about this.

You turn your chin, brow furrowed. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and you have to force yourself to maintain eye contact.

“I wondered why you looked so scared of me on Friday. Thought maybe I smelled like shit from my workout.”

No, you want to say. Unfortunately it was the goddamn opposite.

“So you’re not…”

“Worried you’re a stalker trying to dox me because of my job?”

Levi blatantly finishes, and you wince.

Clearly he notices your embarrassment, because he sighs and relaxes his shoulders.

“I’m more pissed that you didn’t call all weekend, but then again, that’s the nature of the job.”

You both watch each other for a moment as the bartender returns, passing you both pineapple hard seltzers to nurse.

He pushes your can to your hand, nudging the icy-cold aluminum against your thumb, then picks up his own.

“The nature of the job?” you repeat, and he nods.

“People get bored. Run out of funds. Novelty wears off fast.” 

Levi shrugs, sipping his drink. 

“Just because you like talking to someone doesn’t mean they stick around. Wouldn’t blame 'em — shit gets expensive quick.”

“I just…”

You trail off, fighting to find the correct words to say.

“...I thought it wasn’t right to call again, knowing I knew what you looked like, so I didn’t.” 

Explaining yourself makes your tongue feel sluggish, like you were caught red-handed in a crime you didn’t know you’d committed until hindsight.

“I can leave you alone,” you decide to add, holding your drink tighter. “Like I said, I’m here with my friends and… after all, you were doing your job. A great job. You’re kind of the reason I’m even here in the first place.”

Levi’s brow knits, and your eyes widen.

“Not like that!”

“Pretty shit at asserting yourself even in person,” he murmurs like it’s a cheeky inside joke, and he sips once more. “So how am I the reason?”

He’s not angry.

Hell, he’s conversational.

Not the least bit worried about how you’ve both managed to get here.

Might as well be honest.

“Because I decided to stop being a little less scared of the world,” you confess softly. “It— That’s why I got to the gym so early on Friday. I wanted to start doing strength training, like how you talk about how much you love it. And… I thought, maybe, I’d spend more time with friends. Get out there more. Be more assertive — beyond right now, obviously.”

The dark-haired man’s expression smooths at that in a mixture of recognition and surprise.

The slide of his brow is beautiful, and your heart squeezes at the sight of an animated Levi in the flesh, just as you pictured.

“Do you have to go back to your friends right now?”

At first you don’t quite register his question, but then it causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

He looks left to right, as if trying to find your troop of buddies, before returning his attention back to you.

“You don’t… want me to leave?”

Levi shakes his head.

You feel bolted to your stool, unable to move even if you wanted to.

Simultaneously you sip your drinks, keeping eye contact.

It feels intimate.

Too intimate.

“So, then…” You start slowly. “What does this mean?”

“Well,” Levi begins, mulling it over in his head. “Means the whole provider-client relationship has basically gone to shit. You know my face, now I know yours.”

“Right.”

“Then again, that professionalism was already well into a shit pile way before Friday morning.”

You blink, not following. “Huh?”

“There’s nothing in the company policy about what to do when you stumble into your client at the damn local gym, but there sure as hell wasn’t anything about…”

Levi trails off, clenching his jaw in debate.

“...about crossing the line I practically leapt over. I’m good at my job because of my detachment, but this was the only time I bordered on unethical myself. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

Levi… was sorry?

The words blurt faster than you can stop yourself. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

His eyes widen with a budding uncertainty.

“I… just said I crossed the line?”

“When?”

“On the phone?”

“Okay, duh, but when?”

“Our last session.”

“So that was real.”

Levi actually got off to your voice.

If you weren’t in such shock about sitting here face-to-face with him at a local bar, then perhaps your ego would have, in fact, made a crash landing on Mars.

He considers his next words very carefully. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Then he sips more before shaking his head.

“Look. It’s… a job a friend of mine got me. I’m not a real-life Casanova or any of that shit. Hell, most of my time was spent training punks to fight in a boxing ring, so I never had the energy for relationships or dating.”

You can't hide your surprise. “You were a fighter?”

He makes a noncommittal face.

“Loosely. Personal trainer, training in general — fell into it after I got out of the service.”

“Right, you were in the army,” you murmur, and the edge of his lips upticks at your recollection.

“A couple of months ago the gym I worked for went under, money got tight, so I thought I’d try it out. Guess everyone says it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, but bossing fighters around and fielding horny-ass callers ain't all that different."

Levi turns his chin just so to regard you under a wispy black fringe.

“I can usually predict what someone wants. The people that call this hotline shit, they’re in and out."

He takes a pause.

"You, though — the second I picked up your call, you threw me through a goddamn loop.”

You use your nail on your index finger to absently scratch the side of your thumb, attempting to process everything he’s telling you.

"First night we spoke, actually, I ended up at this very bar to contemplate why the fuck I wanted you to call back. Didn't want you blowing your money on it, obviously, it's overpriced and ridiculous, but — it clearly shook me up enough for me to take then ten-minute walk in the middle of the night in the first place."

Ten minutes.

That length of time strikes something in you.

“So, your… office building isn’t far?” you slowly ask.

Levi shakes his head. “No, no office. I work remotely. Kind of the reason why I took the gig in the first place. I wouldn’t do this shit if I had an audience in a damn two-by-four cube.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to confess it, but you point past your shoulder. 

“My apartment complex is actually six blocks down the street.”

Ten minutes away, is your implication.

His hand had raised to sip from his seltzer can, but it halts immediately.

His eyes narrow. 

“The complex on Junction Ave?”

“Yeah," you say.

“Right across from—”

“The Reiss deli.”

That narrowed gaze shoots wide. “You’re shitting me.”

“You say the word shit a lot.”

“Baby, I live there,” he blurts.

“Wait, what?”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

(You’re too shocked to even process what he called you.)

He huffs in a brief laugh, shaking his head.

“You gotta be fucking with me.”

“I’m not! Wait, you live in the same building as me?”

“You said Thomas was your goddamn mailman,” Levi states. “Do you know how many fucking Thomas the Mailmen there are in this world? I didn’t think we’d have the same one.”

Holy shit.

Oh, holy shit.

You sit up taller in your seat. “Wait, what floor?”

“Sixteenth.”

“I’m on the tenth!” you exclaim in your shock. “Holy shit, so you…”

Have been right above me this entire time.

Your phone buzzes, ruining your train of thought. 

Reflexively you look down to see the preview of Annie’s message over your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Did u die?

Right.

You’re here with friends.

“Friends wondering where you are?” Levi inquiries at the sight of your growing frown.

“Yeah, give me a sec.”

You swipe the screen north and type a reply.

[ME]: Talking to someone. Be over in a bit.

Annie’s reply is immediate, and you turn your phone from Levi’s view in mortification.

[A. LEONHART]: 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

[A. LEONHART]: WINGMAN??? NEED????

[ME]: NO! Do not come over here!

[A. LEONHART]: ok ok ok noted

[A. LEONHART]: i’ll keep jaeger to the left end of the bar

“Looks urgent.”

“Huh?” 

You shoot a glance back up to Levi, who’s now angled towards you with his cheek squished against his clenched fist. His elbow props him up on the bar top. 

“No! No. It’s just my friend Annie. She — is actually the one who gave me the number to that hotline in the first place,” you confess.

Levi hums in that delicious way you’ve come to crave. 

“I don’t want to derail your evening. I’ve already taken you away from them for a while.”

Your heart is hesitant, but it grows despite yourself. 

“If you want me to stay, then I’ll stay,” you quietly state. “I… liked talking to you. I mean, beyond the whole — you know.”

He nods once, setting his drink down. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to disappear, either. My job’s not exactly corporate. Not many people can separate fantasy from reality. With you, I never had to bullshit what it was, but…”

Levi trails off, sighing heavily.

“...but I also understand if it’s just a fantasy, for you.”

Something nestles itself between the lines of his words. 

Something he isn’t saying outright, sussing out if he has any right to try.

“Do you really mean that, Levi?”

That sigh turns into a curbed huff, smile fleeting but enough to bring your stomach butterflies. 

“Damn. Sounds nice, hearing my name in person.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

You could scream into your damn seltzer, but you decide to play it as cool as you possibly can.

“So Levi’s your real name?”

He nods.

“Not creative enough to come up with an alias."

Levi shifts, rolling out a shoulder.

"But to answer your question, I’m saying I… yeah, I mean it. I wouldn’t mind asking you out for coffee sometime, given we seem to run on the same gym schedule as it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to leave it at the hotline and call it a day — no pun intended.”

Are you seriously hearing what he’s saying right now?

Does Levi want to step out of a fantasy and into your reality?

Your lips part with a million questions only to end up blurting a very stupid one: 

“Are you single?”

That earns a bark of a laugh, causing his head to gloriously drop back, exposing his neck.

(All you want to do is sink your teeth into it.)

“Yes. Very,” he promises. “Are you, still?”

“Very,” you promise back.

“And my job doesn’t bother you?”

You haven't quite gotten that far, logistically, but it's only a coffee.

He isn't asking to marry you.

Besides, he talks about it like any other office job. You can't find any ill feeling toward it.

“Work is work,” you argue with a one-shoulder shrug. “Sure, it’s unconventional, but… I’m so used to not knowing what I want, or second-guessing what’s good for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever second guessed a damn thing with you.”

Bringing the seltzer back up to his mouth, Levi smirks against the can, mulling something over. 

You smile in return, sipping your drink.

It's the truth.

He may not really know you, but he knows you.

Just as you're beginning to think you know him.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

He steals a ballpoint pen from a dampened closed check from his left side.

Then he snatches a napkin from one of the bartending stations with lemons, limes, and straws.

Hunching over, he scribbles on said napkin, before turning a cheek to you.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow morning—”

Levi then sits up taller, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand resting on the bar top. 

His skin is smooth. 

Heated. 

Your entire body melts to his whim as he turns your wrist over, palm facing up.

One by one his fingers unfurl your fingers, nestles the napkin in your hand, then closes your fist for safe keeping.

“—give me a call.”

Leaving a twenty on the bar counter, Levi lets go of your hand to slip off of his stool.

You say nothing as you watch him give you one last once-over, expression full of admiration, before turning into the sea of people.

A call.

Flexing your hand, you uncrinkle the napkin to read the number etched black on white.

Not the Scout Services Hotline.

No — his number.

Your attention flies back to the original spot where you've now properly abandoned your friends, but you know they'll forgive you for your absence.

Annie knows.

She'll cover for your abrupt disappearance.

On autopilot you yank out your phone, bypassing the texts from your friends, emails from work, and tap the little telephone icon.

Zero through nine appear.

Hastily you type the number, hesitation long gone, and press send.

One ring.

Two.

By the third, it abruptly cuts. You hear shuffling in the background. Cars beeping.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

Levi Ackerman.

Knowing his full name warms your heart.

Standing from your stool, you rise to your toes to search the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Levi stands there on the sidewalk, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

Immediately he turns to the bar, searching the very same window.

Searching for you.

You smile to yourself.

"My schedule just opened up. I know it's a little late for some coffee, but..."

Trailing off, your teeth catch your bottom lip.

Be selfish.

"Are you free for some tea now?”

.

FIN

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

How are we feeling, Hotliner Nation? I teased that this may not be the end of this story. I'm not against writing a sequel, whether to continue the immediate story or time skip, but I wanted to see what people thought before I spoke too soon. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed our hotline journey together.

In the meantime I invite you to follow me here or subscribe to my AO3, as I have other projects in the works (including finishing the final chapters of my canon-based amnesia au with Levi, Silver Underground.)

The last two months have been such a wonderful journey, and I thank every single one of you for engaging the way you have. I never anticipated such a frenzy when I started P4, so sincerely, from the bottom of my heart - thank you for the comments, reblogs, inbox mssgs, etc. Every reblog gives this writer wings.

[ilyrafe]

𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✧ 𝒓. 𝒄.

pairing: ex!rafe cameron x ex!f!reader

warnings: angst, pregnancy scare

word count: 1.6k

“i need to talk to you, it’s urgent. can i come over?”

the text catches rafe by surprise as he hasn’t spoken to you in three weeks. since the breakup, to be specific.

despite not being your boyfriend anymore, rafe still cares for you a great deal, and you rarely text him stuff like this, so it must be serious.

“of course.”

he puts his phone down and begins to wonder what must have happened for you to break your own idea of going no contact.

this has been killing him, not being able to talk to you. he misses you more than he anticipated and it sucks. it’s horrible not having you around, and the saddest bit is that he has no one else to blame but himself.

him and his ways.

half an hour later, he hears a knock on the door and before he can stand up from the chair, you come in. you seem anxious. terrified, even.

“hey.”

“hey, what’s so urgent?”

“i’m late.” you say, but rafe frowns, not quite understanding what you mean. “i’m late, rafe.”

“late?”

“my period, rafe. i’m late.”

oh.

oh, no.

“h-how late are you? i thought you took the pill!”

“i did, but i am a week late. so, i wanna know what we’re gonna do about it.”

rafe needs to breathe, it seems that all the air has left the room. he takes a step back and rubs his face with both hands, trying to be rational.

you’re probably pregnant with his child. this is not how he imagined this was going to happen. it turns out, rafe is quite traditional.

“what do you want to do?”

you seem a bit surprised with his question.

“i… i don’t know, rafe. we’re too young.”

“i’m good with whatever you decide. if you want to keep it, i won’t, uh, i won’t be absent. i’ll provide for you both, i’ll do everything i have to. and if you don’t want to keep it, i’ll pay for it.”

this isn’t going how you were expecting, if you’re being honest. you expected a fight, you expected rafe to claim it wasn’t his child, but… he’s being mature about it, which is new.

truthfully, you don’t know what you want. sure, you’d like children, but not now. not when you’re nineteen and don’t have a clue about what you’re doing in life. not when you don’t have a partner, a job, a house. not when the father of your child is rafe cameron, a drug addict with anger issues.

“i’d like to buy some tests first before i decide what i want to do.”

he nods and takes his car keys, leading you out of the office and taking you to his car.

it doesn’t take long for him to drive you to the nearest drugstore. when he parks the car, you don’t move an inch.

“hey, what’s wrong?”

“i can’t believe this is happening to me.” you say, not being able to hold the tears any longer. this is a nightmare. “what am i gonna tell my parents?”

“you’ll tell them the truth. you’re pregnant and you won’t be doing this alone, i’m here.”

you look at rafe quite skeptically and try your best to believe him, but he’s broken your trust so many times before, it’s difficult to see any honesty in his words.

“not telling them anything and getting an abortion is also an option, you know? we don’t have to tell anybody. whatever it is that you decide, i’m cool with it.”

for your own sake, you choose to believe him and wipe away your tears before you exit his car and go to the drugstore.

you try not to look so suspicious, but you’re looking around, to make sure no one you know is there, and thankfully you’re safe. you buy three different tests and quickly come back to rafe’s car.

the drive back home is excruciating. you can already picture your future as a single mother. you fear what your parents will say if you are indeed pregnant, which you probably are. you’re never late. when you were two days late, you thought it was odd, but then the days kept passing by and nothing happened.

then you did the math.

rafe, on the other hand, is actually happy that you might be pregnant with his child. he always knew he wanted to be a father. this is probably not the best time because you’re not a couple, you’re not really adults, and you don’t really have a stable life, but hey, this is what happens when you have unprotected sex. sure, you took the pill, but no contraceptive is one hundred percent effective.

this kid may be rafe’s only chance to have you somehow linked to him forever and that isn’t a bad thing necessarily… right?

once you’re back to tanney hill, you and rafe nearly run to his bedroom and he makes sure to lock the door so no one can catch them. you open them all and read all the instructions to do it right. you enter his bathroom and once you’re done, rafe has expectant eyes.

“so?”

“we have to wait five minutes.”

“oh, let me set a timer.”

he pulls up his phone and sets a five minute timer while you sit on his bed and sigh as you look up, trying to remain calm, but you can’t.

“i think we should talk about our… possibilities.”

“what possibilities?”

“if you are pregnant and want to keep it, you won’t be doing this alone, okay? i promise. i know this isn’t ideal, but… we’ll get through it. money isn’t a problem.”

“rafe, this isn’t the point. i don’t want to have a baby at nineteen with someone who isn’t my husband. like, i respect the ones who do it, but i don’t want this to be my life.”

rafe chuckles. you’re such a goodie-goodie, he wonders how the hell he managed to get you to date him.

“c’mon, you’ll be a great mom.” he says, truthfully. “you’re great with kids and you’re so caring, so understanding.”

you look at him and chuckle.

“that’s not only what it takes to be a mother.”

“but that’s also important.”

you lie down on his bed and take a deep breath. if rafe wasn’t so unstable, you’d consider having his baby, but… he’s not. he’s being good now, but you can’t predict how he’s going to be tomorrow morning and you can’t raise a child in this environment. you know better than that.

“if you’re keeping the baby, i’m getting clean.” he says. “i’ll quit everything.”

“rafe…”

“i’m serious. i don’t want my kid to be afraid of me, to be in danger because of me.”

the last part breaks your heart a little, as it was one of the reasons why you decided to break things off with him.

“that’s… that’s good to know.”

“i know we don’t need to be married to have a kid, but it’d be nice to, i don’t know, try again.”

“you want to get back together because i’m pregnant?” you snort.

“i want to get back together because i miss you and i love you, and since you might be pregnant, i think it’d be better for us to try again, so our baby can have a full family. you know, mom and dad in the same space.”

our baby. hearing rafe say such things make you even more confused and aggravated, only because you know, deep down, rafe isn’t the right guy for you, as much as you love each other. you know you’re too good for him because even barry told you so.

“he’s a lost cause, y/n. don’t be wastin’ your time with him, he’ll get you in trouble and you don’t deserve that.”

“stop saying things like that, rafe. please, this isn’t the time.” you plead, trying not to cry.

god knows how difficult it was to end things with him, because you love him oh so much. as cliché as it sounds, he’s really not like the other guys. he’s sweet, caring, funny and smart, but he also keeps setting himself up for failure and you’ve realized you can’t fix him and that realization alone broke you in tiny little pieces.

it’s like they say, loving someone is also learning to let them go and this is what you’ve been trying to do. it kills you that you told him to never talk to you again, because you miss his voice. you miss his jokes. you miss hearing his voice saying your name or whatever silly nickname he comes up with.

his phone rings, startling you both. once again, you don’t move, so rafe takes you by the hand and enter his bathroom with you. on the counter, you take the tests and see the results.

negative

negative

negative

the relief you feel is indescribable. you can finally breathe.

“what does it say?” he asks, a bit anxious.

“they’re all negative.” you respond, showing him the tests.

“oh,”

“oh, my god.” you sigh, smiling for the first time in a week. you turn to rafe and give him a hug. “thank you, rafe.”

rafe hugs you back, basking in the feeling of having you back in his arms again. for a few seconds, he allows himself to forget you both are broken up and just had a pregnancy scare. for a few seconds, you’re his again and nothing else matters.

“you okay?”

“now i am.” you chuckle, wiping away new tears.

“d’you want me to drive you home?”

“no, no, it’s okay. i’ve bothered you too much today.” you say, jokingly.

whenever you said that, he always said you never bother me, but he figures now it would be inappropriate.

“call me if you need anything, okay?”

“okay. thank you.”

you give him one last smile before you get your things and leave tanney hill, feeling light as a feather, not at all suspecting that rafe feels like absolute shit.

when you pictured your life as a single mother, rafe saw himself with a family. his own family. the people he would do anything and everything for, the people he would love endlessly.

the only hope he had of having you back in his life, the only thing that would make him turn his life around, the only person who would make him want to be a better person.

it never existed.

tell me what you think! i love feedback <3

[chlorinecake]

HELLO

Please PLEASE make a fic about the songs church- chase Atlantic!!

It's my latest obsession, next to enha ofc

leading you on | l.hs

♱ plot: from the shy boy you first met at church camp who your parents once adored to their biggest fuckboy nightmare, you and heeseung reconnect on an online platform where you became a popular streaming duo together, leading to some steamy (and eventually forbidden) connections between you two…

loser!streamer!heeseung x fem!streamer!reader

♱ contains: SLOW BURN, swearing, sneaking out, mentions of bulges (multiple times), oral and fingering (f. r.), slight corruption kink, y/n stripping in front of a large audience (on camera), unprotected sex + virginity loss, y/n deliberately disobeying her parents, angst-ish, ft. other kpop idols, roughly 7k words

a/n: this is my first time writing a one shot all about Heeseung so hopefully I did our favorite loser boy some justice in this fic... have fun reading!

Heeseung. He was always just so... flirty with you.

Not emotionally, that is, but physically.

Leaving lingering touches on your thigh during Bible study, whispering dangerously close to your ear in that bedroom voice of his, or texting you random pictures during the day with his bulge obvious in almost every single one.

Two little voices battled in the back of your mind whenever you were around him, one voice wanting him to take things further while the other found it strange how he did such things so shamelessly.

The boy's got sex written all over him, your friends would warn alongside your Christ-converted step-sister Giselle who'd had her fair share of 'guys like Heeseung' in the past.

But you didn't see him that way. Despite his flirty tendencies, you figured those were just attributes that made him who he is.

Who you've always loved him to be.

However, those Holy, Holy, God Almighty church days were long gone by now, being no more than a distant ninth grade memory to you and most of everyone else who attended back then.

Everyone except Lee Heeseung, who could never shake his adolescent infatuation with you... ____, the girl who accepted his flaws and eventually stole his heart.

You and Heeseung reconnected a few years later by chance, the same day of your one year anniversary on your streaming channel.

Initially, your content consisted of one-hour long broadcasts where you'd just talk with random strangers, hearing out their problems and giving righteous advice.

However, Heeseung became a recurrent visitor on your streams, coaxing you to speak on topics more interesting than whether its modest to wear glam makeup or if kissing should be saved for marriage.

Your channel amassed a whopping 20,000 new followers in the first month of Heesung partnering with you, and its part of what led him to becoming an anticipated guest to your growing fanbase.

A dynamic duo, some commenters would call you two... and much to your parents chagrin, at that.

Off camera, things were the same.

You and Heeseung had grown closer than ever, sacrificing sleep to text each other all night, doing fuck-all on your web streams for hours, and even considering meeting up in person for a broadcast after he shared with you that he still lived in the city.

But then... something changed.

Or more accurately, your overly controlling mother put her foot down.

|Messaging| 💬

Heeseung: So we're not allowed to hang out together this Friday ?

You: Not alone... and honestly, not on the streams anymore, either...

Heeseung: Don't tell me its bc ur shyyyy

You: Nope… pArEnTs ^^

You'd say your mom had it out to get Heeseung more than your dad ever did, resenting the mere mentioning of his name at weekly church gatherings.

"That daughter of yours has gained quite the audience on social media," one womann would say, "too bad she seems to be losing her Faith to that poor Heeseung boy..."

"Such a shame," another would agree, adding to the heat-bubbles boiling in your mother's blood-

"Our faith teaches forgiveness and kindness," you defended yourself, just as your mom gave you maybe her third lecture this week on why you should cut ties with him.

"It also advises caution and wisdom when it comes to who we allow into our social circles," she hummed back, taking a sip of her morning coffee, red lipstick staining the rim of the white mug, "I'd be no better than a fool to sit here and support this meaningless friendship between you and that... man."

You internally rolled your eyes at her words, thinking of something, anything to say in order to change the subject right now.

"Well, I have plans with some friends from church tonight, if you don't mind-"

"Will Heeseung be there?"

"What? No," you lied, and not for the first time, either.

It helped you to feel less guilt whenever you blamed it on the little voice in your head, "Just me and the girls," you clarified.

"Mhm," she smiled facetiously before continuing, "I'm afraid I still can't trust you to go, though... especially not after that little stunt you pulled online..."

Your hand halted at the kitchen countertop as her words settled in your mind, "What stunt?"

FLASHBACK

It all started with a picture.

A stupid picture you got dared to leak by an anonymous tipper who offered a $1,000 donation in exchange for a steamy photo of Heeseung.

Chelbear03: God, he looks so THICK

Chelsea, one of your viewers said in the streaming chat, practically moaning at the photo of Heeseung, biting her lip as if she could feel him inside her just by looking at the screen.

Chelbear03: PAINFUL 😩

pucca_princxss: Need a tissue for your drool, Sea-Sea? 🧻

Danielle, another fan joked.

Chelbear03: Okay, FIRST of all, I have drool coming from TWO holes rn- Secondly, I'd rather just have him lick it up 😔

Chelsea typed back, a nuance to her words that you couldn't tell was meant to be either comical or serious.

"Lick up what?" a curious voice asked from the screen.

That's when your hand flew to cover your mouth, eyes going wide at the sight of Heeseung coming back into frame after saying he'd be "afk for a bit while showering."

His hair was still a bit damp from what you could tell, a towel draped lazily around his neck as your eyes unfortunately fell to the lump hiding behind his pants.

Oh God-

"N-nothing! Uhm... it's not important," you chuckled dryly, only adding to the awkwardness everyone was starting to feel from behind their screens.

pucca_princxss: OOP speak of the papi-

Chelbear03: Please forgive me, Hee-man 🧎‍♀️ ... bc I am disrespectfully foaming at the mouth as we speak-

Chelbear03 has left the stream

A notification of Chelsea having left the stream popped up in the chat almost immediately after she sent that message.

"What was that all about?," Heeseung smirked with confusion, looking between both you and the server comments displayed on his screen for an answer that never came.

"Fine then, keep your secrets... its not like I can't just rewind the stream highlights anyway," he added, just as you felt frantic emotions overcome you.

"Heeseung, you really don't wanna do that, just let me explain-"

His jaw dropped, not necessarily in shock, but with intrigue, the raunchy photo of his semi-hard cock through his sweatpants being displayed on the screen, right before his glossy deer-like eyes.

The same picture he'd only ever sent to you.

"I guess this is my mini Drake moment then," Heeseung chuckled to himself, a heavy sigh escaping your lips at his fortunately chill reaction.

"I did it for 1k, Heeseung, I'm sorry," you whined, pulling your knees up in your chair before burying your face behind them.

"Don't be... everyone already knows I'm your slut at this point," he said in a deeper voice, making you freeze once again as your eyes shot up to view the screen, almost in denial that such words even left his mouth.

anonymous tipper: worst thousand $$$ I ever spent... how abt I multiply the price by two for a sexy picture of the lady ?

yxstar3ject: ooo, but i was thinking maybe a double feature instead ? would luvvv to see how she treats this little slut of hers 🤭

Heeseung snickered so loud, you almost felt it on your skin, watching his facial expressions change with each suspicious message that filled the chat box, throughly entertaining him

"Guys, cut it out before I end the stream," you giggled shyly, revealing your full face that looked a little less flustered than earlier, "Heeseung isn't my slut either, okay? Just a good friend, I swear..."

pucca_princxss: you two need to stream in the same room one day bc this long distance sexual tension thing is so not the vibe :|

"Maybe one day..." Heeseung's voice faded off as he turned off the lights in his room, getting ready for bed...

"Maybe~~," your mother repeated in a mocking tone at the memory of your "filthy fest" of a stream that day, disgust displayed all over her before she took the last sip of her coffee as if it'd soothe her.

"Hope that refreshed your memory sweetie, but either way, my answer's no. Not with that slut on the streets and especially not without my supervision..."

“If you’re referring to Heeseung with that vulgar comment, I’m sorry to correct you, but it’s not right to just bash him with words like that,” you went on, leaning your elbows over the counter.

“Please, any guy who sends raunchy dick pics, let alone to a girl he’s not even dating, is a slut, ____,” your step-sister Giselle voiced while walking into the kitchen, dressed in athletic wear as she filled up her water canteen with a lemon flavored electrolyte packet, “not to mention those other weird things he says about your relationship on the stream.”

Despite how much your family claimed to dislike Heeseung, they had no problem with bringing him up every five seconds in a conversation.

You glanced at her through a side eye, shaking your head at the fact that she was just eavesdropping on your conversation, “That was hardly a dick pic, and you should know that better than me, Jizz-elle,” you retorted, putting extra emphasis on the first syllable of her old nickname.

“Yeah, real mature, ____… you can slut shame me but not your little online boyfriend?”

“Ladies!,” your mother raised her voice slightly, pursing her lips at the tension built up between you two, “that’s enough of this discussion…”

You noticed the way your mother’s eyes lingered on your step sister for a moment, “And where do you think you’re going?”

“To the gym,” she answered shortly, walking past your mom and out of the kitchen with haste.

You scoffed out loud, “Not gonna interrogate her like you did to me?,” you said, laughing as if humored when it was really just a way to mask how irritated you were.

“No,” your mom said with a delayed reply, “Giselle is not my blood… I must take her word for what she says to avoid conflict with your step-father… you, on the other hand, will—”

“—abide by your rules… got it,” you finished for her, knowing better than to continue going back and forth with her in this matter.

You left the kitchen, going up to your room and plopping yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling as you entered into a deep thinking space.

One in which you'd strategize on how to successfully sneak out of the house to hang out with Heeseung tonight.

|Messaging| 💬

You: So, you want me to meet you where again ?

Heeseung: Just take a hard right past the first stop sign from your place and a few steps past that one brown house (pls ignore my Dora ass instructions rn 🗿)

You: ok ok 😭, smart tho !! … that way, none of my neighbors will see your car :D

Heeseung: Exactly. U sure u still wanna do this, tho ?

You: Yeah, ofc ! Had enough of my mom nagging me all day ☝️ I need a release BIG time

Heeseung: Haha, okay then ! I’ll see you at 10:30pm

You: Cya ! 🐒

THE LAST TIME you and Heeseung met in person was back when you were both young teenagers, navigating hormones and puberty while aiming to keep God at the center of it all, so to speak.

You didn’t know what to expect from meeting up with him, and especially not under such circumstances.

Still, you had a pretty good feeling that all this trouble wouldn’t be for nothing.

It was currently 10:34pm as you turned off all the lights in your bedroom, wearing an all black outfit to ensure you weren’t seen.

You double checked to see if you had everything with you before leaving: phone, spare cash, and a well-rehearsed story in case you got caught.

Opening your bedroom window, you stuck out a leg, suddenly feeling thankful for your step-dad giving you the bedroom on the first story of his home.

Both your feet were on the floor now, your hands finding the window sill as you closed the window back, careful not to accidentally lock it back so you would be able to get back in later.

You then followed the instructions Heeseung outlined in your texts, walking a few blocks down and taking a right turn once you reached the stop sign.

That’s when you caught sight of his dimly lit side profile under the lights of his car and through the tinted windows.

His eyes were on his phone until your figure blocked the streetlight that shined in his car, drawing his attention to your face as a smile spread over his own.

His eyes lit up like you were the candle to his soul, stepping out of the sleek black car to come around and give you a hug.

“Oh- hi,” you chuckled shyly, hands hesitating to wrap around him before he pulled away, looking you up and down while bracing your shoulders.

“Hi,” he smiled back, “I was just about to text you when you showed up at my window… nice black fit, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you said in a playful voice, watching as he opened the car door for you to get in.

“Would it be wrong of me to assume your panties match, too?,” he asked teasingly, joining you in the vehicle before pulling out of his parked position and cruising out of the neighborhood.

“Wow, you’re really representing this slut persona of yours, huh?” You teased back, putting on your seatbelt.

“Mostly because I can’t help it,” he shrugged, flashing you a smile before looking back at the road, “the fans ship us anyway, so we might as well commit to it, right?”

“Righttt,” you answered suspiciously, poking his thigh before looking back out the window, “gosh, this is crazy…”

“What is?”

“How long we’ve known each other and still happened to maintain a solid friendship despite the distance.”

“Yea,” he agreed, turning down a lane decorated with flowers that somehow still shined in the dark of the night, “We’d be fools to give up this bond we share, though… fools not to explore it further.”

He pulled into his driveway a few minutes later, showing you around his place before leading you to his bedroom, a familiar sight to you thanks to the streams.

“Oh- you’ve still got your monitors and mic set up?,” you asked curiously, noticing how the screen of his computer was on the streaming website.

“You remember what Danielle said on our last live? About us broadcasting in the same room together sometime…” he started shyly, pushing out another gaming chair for you to sit in.

“You really think it’s a good idea to stream right now?,” you rationalized, watching as he joined you in the nearby seat, “I mean, I’m obviously down for it, but what if my mom sees it again? Or Gisel—”

“I’ve already blocked your mom's account, ____, we should be fine,” he smiled, “and… if not… I’ll exchange another photo with your anonymous tipper for some forgiveness cash,” he shrugged, pouty lips making you melt a little inside. "Deal?"

You always knew that Heeseung was cute, but you didn’t think it was possible for him to get any better looking from behind the screen.

“Okay then,” you agreed with a sigh, hoping that your nerves would calm down once the broadcast started.

Almost instantly, 100 viewers joined when Heeseung pressed the “stream” button.

You both began with greeting everyone, trying to get past the chat’s excitement about finally getting to see you two in the same room together.

yxstar3ject: OMFG YALL ACTUALLY DID IT ❗️ this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for 🤧

Chelbear03: holy fucking fuck, how is she so CALM NEXT TO HIM 😩

mrloverl0ver: everyone in favor of them playing truth or strip for us, spam the chat with W’s

pucca_princxss: hoon, you raging perv- WWWWWWWWWW XD

Chelbear03: ✨ W ✨

laylaspapi: W no homo wait, why's my name pink now ;-;

yxstar3ject: I took orange the other day ~ sawwy Jakey W <3

You watched as the chat box started to flood with W's and other random comments, feeling Heeseung sat a hand on your thigh as if to make you feel more comfortable.

"Alright peeps, chill out with the chat spamming, we see it," Heeseung said, laughing off some of the tension, "It's not like you guys didn't get a free show the other day, anyways," he added.

"I don't know..." you started, voice and logic trailing off as more letter W's filled the screen, "it might be fun?"

"____," Heeseung said more seriously this time, "it's a pointless game, y'know? We're honest with the fans... they already know most of secrets, so its silly to do truth or strip..."

"Great. That'll only make it more challenging for them to get our clothes off then," you smiled, suddenly feeling excited about playing, a bit of your competitiveness rubbing off on the initially cautious boy.

"Fine then... we'll do it," Heeseund said, eliciting a few viewers to send gifts to your broadcast, "I'm gonna need a drink for this first, though."

Heeseung was doing a good job of making it seem like he wasn't totally down for this, even though on the inside, he was mostly concerned with making sure you felt comfortable, too.

He left the room for a moment before coming back with two canned cocktails in his grip, placing them on his desk in front of you two.

"I'm guessing you don't drink much," he said, popping open a can of sugary fizz with his teeth while making eye contact with you, "so take it slow with this, yeah?"

"Sure, dad," you joked, taking a sip from the can, hoping that the alcohol would maintain your fleeting confidence, considering that you'd just agreed to strip in front of hundreds of people online.

Chelbear03: alr, first question heheh, starting easy !! :))) when was the last time you got upset and why

Chelsea was the first to initiate this little "truth or strip" questionnaire. Heeseung read the question out loud before humming to himself in thought.

“Hmm... maybe when I overcooked my ramen this morning?”

"Who eats ramen for breakfast?" You asked with a dry laugh.

"Don't judge me because I have good taste, ____," he replied, shoving your thigh with his knee a bit, "and you're dodging the question..."

"Oh- right," you chuckled shyly, thinking of what to say and whether to be honest, until you remembered the consequence would be to remove a piece of clothing.

“It was um... over some stupid things my stepsister was saying about a friend of mine… also this morning...”

"Does that friend so happen to be me by any chance?," Heeseung asked knowingly, giving you a look that you quickly brushed off.

"Moving on, next question!"

anonymous tipper: name the last person you hooked up with $100 donation on the line here, btw... plus someone's modesty 🙈

Oh God, you thought to yourself, dreading how this anonymous tipper knew you'd do almost anything for money.

It was really a bad trait of yours...

"Wow, just jumping to the extremes, aren't we?," Heeseung mumbled between a sip of his drink, the wet condensation drawing your attention to his glistening digits for a quick second.

How were you just now noticing how thick his fingers ar-

laylaspapi: uh oh someone looks nervous ...

pucca_princxss: mission accomplished 👹👹👹

In all honesty, you didn't really have an answer to that question, but to avoid coming off as prudish, you opted to take a pair of clothing off instead, lifting your hips in your seat to pull your pants down.

"____, what the-" Heeseung started before choking a bit on his drink, not just at your sudden boldness, but at the sight of your lace panties hugging the natural curves of your hips, pants getting bunched up at your ankles before you kicked them off under his desk.

yxstar3ject: 😭😭😭😭 DEFINITELY wasn't expecting that, oml-

Chelbear03: your turn, hee 🙏🙏🙏

Something about how frazzled your usually calm and collected best friend became at the simple act of you undressing before him gave you a feeling of exhilaration.

By now, your top barely covered the flesh of your thighs, a few commenters saying things about "wanting to take a bite" before Heeseung cleared his throat, hoping that they'd stop making things worse for him.

"Well uh, I'm not willing to strip a layer just yet, plus I could use the $100, so I'll be honest..."

The chat stalled momentarily as if everyone watching paused in eager anticipation of who and what Heeseung was going to say.

"It's been a while, I'll admit," he chuckled dryly, staring off as if envisioning it behind his sparkly eyes, "but it was around a year and a half ago... with a girl I'd rather not name, but she was a bit older than me..."

"Oh?," you accidentally said out loud, a strange feeling of happiness washing over you now that you knew he hadn't been with any girl since you two met reconnected. You're not sure why this information made you happy... or maybe you're just not ready to admit how you truly feel about him to yourself yet...

"How'd you two meet? Wait- why am I even asking that," you cringed at your own inevitable curiosity, Heeseung taking delight in how his timidness somehow rubbed back off onto you.

"Nah, it's okay... I'm sure the viewers wouldn't mind a little storytime-"

He adjusted his posture in the chair, eyes scanning a few new comments before he spoke, "I met her during my bad boy stage, I guess you could say... we bonded over the fact that we were both born in October until we eventually started smoking together at a friends house of mine every now and then... she and I were both going through some divorce drama with our parents and uh... we thought fucking would be a good emotional outlet? I don't know, maybe it was more of a distraction, I guess..."

Heeseung didn't expect himself to ramble the way he did, but he wanted you to know the main details, even though he left out a few parts for another time and conversation.

Chelbear03: what would it take for me to be that girl ? just for one night 😔

maindancertypeshit: pretty sure Hee just confirmed he's into older girls, Chels ... and ones with daddy issues at that-

You nearly snorted at the sudden comment, up until you realized who the last one came from.

"Excuse me, but what the hell is a toddler doing on this stream?" Heeseung asked sarcastically, obviously referring to Niki.

pucca_princxss: LMAO, looking for his mommy ofc 🤱 (😏)

maindancertypeshit: ayo, wtf??? so dani's allowed but I'm not?? hmph >:{

maindancertypeshit has left the stream

You sighed while laughing slightly, taking a sip of the drink as water droplets now dripped unto your thighs, Heeseung's eyes doing a terrible job of not staring.

"I say we do one more round before ending the stream," you offered, looking at the time as you knew you'd wanna spend more private time with Heeseung before having to run back home.

yxstar3ject: BOOOOOOOO :(

Chelbear03: im too pressed abt riki rn to give a damn bro did NAWT have to dish me the truth like that 😭😭

mrloverl0ver: ok ok, let's make this last question worth it then hmmm ...

Sunghoon typed in thought, just as the bulb in Heeseungs side lamp suddenly shattered, the loss of light coupled with it's piercing sound making you jolt in your seat, half of your canned cocktail spilling on your shirt and chest.

"Shit," Heeseung swore under his breath, happy that none of your drink or any glass from the lightbulb got on his streaming equipment.

That's when he noticed you shivering a bit, the cold liquid contrastingly with the warmth of your body.

"C-can you grab me a towel please?," you asked softly, Heeseung taking the can from your grasp and leaving the room with haste to grab a damp and dry cloth for you.

"Here," he offered when he came back, hooking his hands at the hem of your top and pulling it over your head in one swift movement, making you gasp out loud.

You were now half-naked in front of your best friend, not to mention the tons of people watching from their digital screens.

"Heeseung, what're you-"

He was now taking off his own shirt, holding it in one hand while he wiped your chest down with the cloths he held in the other.

There was something about the way his eyes looked while wiping down your boobs, coming off as romantic despite the awkward nature of the situation.

"Put this on," he whispered so quietly you almost missed it, snaking your head through the head hole of his T-shirt while he flicked the ceiling light on, your mind running in a hundred different directions in this moment.

You're not sure if it had something to do with the alcohol, but your skin still tingled in the spots where his fingertips grazed your flesh... just like old times...

You don't think you ever put on a T-shirt faster in your life, wanting to cover up as fast as you could despite how everyone had already gotten a free show from the both of you.

laylaspapi: B👀BS ?!?!? caught in 4k? just like that !?!??!????

mrloverl0ver: guess that means the games over now since y'all started stripping regardless ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

pucca_princxss: I think Heeseung's house might b haunted :'0

Chelbear03: HEESEUNGS FUCKING ABS RN- IS HE TRYING TO KILL ME !??!?

yxstar3ject: 👁👄👁

The chat was going crazy at this point, their flood of comments honestly being the last thing on your mind as you sat bottomless in Heeseung's gaming chair, wearing his T-shirt as he searched for another shirt somewhere behind you.

A billion emotions were coursing through your veins, still trying to grasp how you went from sneaking out your bedroom window, stripping in front of an audience, and getting flustered from the mere presence of Heeseung now.

"Alright guys, this was fun but we're gonna call it a night for now," Heeseung said as he came back into frame, not even bothering to sit back down as his right hand found the mouse, moving it towards the end stream button.

"Yeah, I think my streaming career might end here," you added jokingly, making Heeseung chuckle a bit at your words, his bright smile doing nothing but make your stomach flutter all over again.

What was going on with you?

"Who knows? Maybe we can work on starting an OnlyFans together ..."

"Heeseung-"

"I'm kidding," he laughed again, looking at your face from the screen, not even aware of how he bit his lip before speaking, "you look pretty on camera though, for what its worth."

The all-too familiar tune of the livestream ending rang in your ears, the screen displaying stats of the broadcast engagement, which surpassed any and every stream you've ever filmed before.

"Wow," Heeseung marveled, just as he shut his computer off.

"I know," you added, stretching your back while sitting, "we don't even reach stats like that in a week..."

"I wasn't talking about the ratings, ____," he returned, the room seeming much more quiet now that the computer was off, even though it's been this way the whole time.

"Enough about that, though," he started again, taking your hands in his to pull you out of the chair, "I haven't been a very good host to you this evening... making you work first thing before properly treating you... allow me to make up my lacking..."

"I mean... you gave me a nice seat and something to drink... you even lended me one of your shirts after I made a big mess of myself," you replied while giggling, feeling silly as he held both of your hands while speaking formally all of a sudden.

"Yes, yes, but I'm serious," he continued, now guiding you down to the rug lying in the middle of his bedroom floor, "you still like candy, right?"

ALMOST ANOTHER HOUR had passed and it was somewhere around midnight give or take, you and Heeseung hardly feeling tired as you sat on the mat together, alternating between eating orange slices and gummy bears.

You were propped up on your elbows, a glow still present on his face from the laughter you've shared together so far, even though there was something less innocent you wanted to get off your chest.

You were feeling completely reckless already, and you figured it wouldn’t hurt for you to push things a little further.

Besides, it’s not everyday that a girl like you gets an opportunity like this just placed in her lap.

It's just like Heeseung said, you'd be a fool to give up this bond you two share and not explore it further...

Plus, you weren't sure how much longer you could hide behind the good girl act.

Giselle was right: Heeseung had sex written in full length parables all up and down his six-foot-something body, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on.... if you said it didn't reel you in, like a burning desire to explore what's corrupted.

To be ruined.

"Heeseung," you started, making him look down at you as he sat with his legs crossed, hair messy from the amount of times he ran a hand through it, "can I ask you something?... It's... kinda personal..."

He popped another strawberry flavored gummy bear into his mouth, "As long as it isn't about your period, I should be good to help you then," he chuckled slightly.

"And what makes you think that I need help with something?"

"Hmm… maybe just that way that your nails keep picking with my wrist watch right now," he answered quietly, drawing your attention to your fingers which tend to get busy whenever you were nervous.

"Oh- I... I didn't even realize...," you laughed at yourself, shying your hands away before sitting up and hiding them in your lap.

"Well go on," he urged, looking back at you with warmth in his eyes, taking off his glasses and setting them aside, "What'd you wanna ask me?"

You let out a breath, clenching your thighs a bit as your sight fell between his legs.

Fuck, did he just laugh? God, he definitely noticed your peeking... you fucking perver-

"I don't really know how to word this but..." you chewed on your lip in thought, "Sometimes... when it's just you and me alone like this... even when we're just video chatting... I feel," you looked up at the ceiling as if it'd help you divulge, "I don't really know what to call it."

He blinked at your words, adjusting his sitting position on the ground, "Are there certain things I do or say that make you feel... whatever it is that you can't explain?" He asked, tilting his head at you, just as his hand inched closer to you on the rug, but not quite touching your skin yet.

"Its a few things, actually-"

"Like what?" His hand was now on your thigh, eyes glued on your shaky figure even though you avoided eye contact, lost in the veins that trailed the pretty skin of his arm.

"When you touch me," you whispered so quietly, the only reason he heard you was because he read your lips, thinking in his own mind what it'd be like to taste them, "like that."

"Speak up for me, I can hardly hear you," he urged, almost as if cooing at you.

"I can't," you said shakily, chest expanding slightly with each heavy breath you took in and let out.

Your idea of being bold was starting to backfire... if only you could stop being so awkward about this for one second-

"It's just me, ____," he whispered with a slight chuckle this time, your hands finding the fluffy rug beneath you as your skin still stung from where he'd last touched you, "be as honest with me as you need."

"Maybe it's best we just pretend I never said anything," your voice trailed off, regretting having looked into his dark eyes that stared back at yours because you felt as though your shield had faltered, his energy coaxing your mind to wander.

"Would you mind if I took a guess?," Heeseung offered with an expression you couldn't read, but you nodded anyway, just as his hand traveled further up your thigh, your breath hitching in your chest as you felt his finger tips meet your core.

"You feel something in here, don't you?," he whispered again, "Hurts, doesn't it?"

Like hunger pains, you answered in your head, finding his shoulder as half of you thought to push him away while the other half just needed to touch him.

You nodded shyly in response, thankful that he didn't move any further so you could catch your breath, already too effected by his actions.

"I feel it sometimes, too. The aching... but I'm sure you're old enough to know there's only one way to get rid of it."

You didn't even have to ask to know what he was implying, feeling tempted to give in to whatever this urge was.

He was right though. It did ache, and so badly, your own core tearing up with a need you never intended to entertain.

That's when his touch creeped closer to your core, your thighs closing around his hand as you struggled to think clearly.

You almost couldn't in a state like this.

It baffled you how the energy was starting to change, but it was only a matter of time that you'd be able to sit bottom less in front of Heeseung looking the way he does before something sexual would happen.

"Are you willing to let me help you?" He asked, gripping your flesh between his hands as a shy sound fell from your lips.

You were having second thoughts.

"As much as I'd like to, Hee, it just doesn't seem right anymore..."

Even though this was all your idea to begin with-

"But doesn't it feel right?" he pressed, feeling his hands gently pry your thighs back open, but its not like you were putting up much of a fight either, "Besides, you wouldn't have told me if you didn't want me to do something about it..."

In this moment, you couldn't care less about maintaining that fleeting sense of virtue all the elders in your life harped on growing up.

You were simply young, horny, lovesick, and in need of a release.

Before you knew it, your legs were parted for him, your back against the rug as his head got comfortable at your heat, fingers barely grazing over your now bare cunt before he started leaving plush kisses against your sweet spot.

The ache was definitely still there, but having him this close to you made it feel better.

Almost too good, honestly…

“Heeseung-” you cried out, clamming your thighs around his head as you felt his thick and warm tongue enter you.

Hooking his hands at your knees, it helped to open you back up for him, feeling your stomach tighten as he continued to lick you down.

“I’m still here, baby…” he cooed, looking back up at you, just as your phone started to ding, "relax for me, alright?"

It was a few random messages here and there, you being too pleasure-drunk to give a damn as he continued lapping at your slick, alternating between one and two fingers as he teased your hole, only making you want more.

“Fuck…s- someone’s calling me,” you whined, propping up on your elbows with tired eyes as you reached for your phone, seeing none other than Giselle's contact number as Heeseung left your core, getting on his knees and unbuckling his belt.

"What're you-"

Your words were cut off as he leaned closer into you, his bulge resting in between your folds as he looked into your eyes and said, "Answer it."

He was already rocking against your pussy as you struggled to stay focused, his boxers being covered in your slick just from how wet you'd gotten, even though you nodded no.

“You want me to help you, don’t you?” He continued, completely aware of your stalling and hesitance as the phone continued to ring, your breathing only getting heavier as he kept grinding against you.

You bit your lip, clenching around nothing as his fingers cascaded over your sensitive spot. Heeseung practically drooled at the sight, your tight little cunt all slick and messy for him.

"Hello?" Giselle asked over the phone, "where the hell are you right now?"

Fuck.

You watched nervously as Heeseung pulled his boxers past his hips, his thickness springing up now that it was finally free to breathe.

"What're you talking about, I was just in my room," you lied terribly, watching Heeseung with pleading eyes as he lined himself up with your entrance, bracing a hand on you lower abdomen while glaring back at you, a glint of playfulness in his doe eyes.

Oh, the way you wanted to smack him across his pretty face right now-

"I wasn't born yesterday, ____. I checked your room an hour ago and you're still not here. Tell me where you are," she continued, voice cracking a bit as you winced through a bitten lip, thanks to Heeseung somehow having slid his thickness inside you.

Well, most of the way, at least...

"____?"

"Y-yes, I'm listening, just- don't worry about me, I'll be back in a bit-"

"That still doesn't answer my question, ____..."

Thud.

You accidentally dropped your phone beside your head once Heeseung pushed all the way in now, leaving a few kisses along your neck to help you calm down.

His hips were still, but for some reason, your breathing remained shaky beneath him, your step-sister still awaiting your reply on the other side of the phone.

"Call you later," you said in a squeaky voice, reaching over to hang up the phone as Heeseung started to move again, your legs trembling a bit as the nerves in your mind traveled through your whole body.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" He asked sarcastically, hand following a trail from your waist, over your boob, then to your neck, goosebumps sprouting on your skin as you suddenly felt cold, your body internally shivering.

"Hee," you said with a whimper, feeling his grip loosen around your neck before he started thrusting into your walls, your slick providing just enough lubrication for him to slide in and out easily.

You couldn't even think in your mind at this point, his actions already becoming more than you could handle given how new everything was.

How nice he felt.

"C'mon, don't get quiet on me now, baby, I just started," he teased, slamming his pelvis against yours to hopefully reel a moan out of you, which obviously worked, your hand flying up to grip the fluffy rug over your head as it became harder to hide your sounds.

He hissed at the feeling of you clenching around him, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked into your eyes.

"So either you like it when I'm rough with you or when I call you baby..." he started in a low voice, "which is it?"

"M-maybe both... now can you stop trying to turn me on with your words for one fucking second?," you asked with labored breaths, feeling your orgasm creep up on you a lot sooner than anticipated.

Sure, this was your first time, but you were glad he didn't treat you like a baby during the whole thing.

There was just something about the way his voice sounded in this moment, the way he was rutting into you like a horny teenager that took you over the edge.

And he was being such a tease, trying to make you talk knowing that your sentences would be broken and whiney thanks to how rough he was going.

He wanted to hear you falling apart underneath him.

He let out the most attractive chuckle you'd ever heard at your words, "But I can tell it's working," he smirked, bracing himself against the floor so you could wrap your legs around him better, "now quit your complaining and keep taking me like a good girl, alright?"

You're sure your clit started doing backflips at the pet-name, coupled with the pretty sounds he was very intentionally humming beneath your ear.

He found your wrists on the rug, sliding up to your hands and interlacing his fingers with yours,

“Stop trying to act tough, I can tell this is all new to you…. don’t even know what to do with your hands, huh?” his said, watching as your eyes get lost in the view of his shaggy hair.

He snickered, “you can touch it if you want…”

Fuck, you thought to yourself. You don’t know why you felt the need to put on some act for him… maybe it was because you assumed a competition between yourself and other girls he’s been with, even though in reality, you’d been the only girl on his mind for a while now.

“I…,” you started with a stutter, “I can’t.”

Your fingers were still interlaced with his, but your inability to touch him had less to do with the fact that he had you pinned down, and more so to do with your nerves.

As badly as he wanted to keep toying with your head in this moment, he could you were getting closer from how your breath kept hitching, so he didn’t have much time to play.

Releasing his grip from your hands, he brought a thumb to your chin, tapping at it for you to open your mouth, “I’m gonna speed up now then, okay?”

He choked out, his own head becoming a little fuzzy as you parted your lips obediently for him, the sight of your tongue laving at his fingers being enough to make him feel like cumming.

He knew you had to get home quick now, but he still wanted to give you the best orgasm of your life.

Once he collected enough of your spit on his fingers, he slid his hand down, circling your swollen bud while looking into your eyes, your hands automatically flying to his shoulders to brace yourself.

“Fuck, Heeseung~,” you cursed with furrowed brows, whimpers that almost sounded like high pitched hiccups falling from your lips as you felt your hips chase his.

There was so much energy coursing through both of your bodies that it could charge your dying phone on the floor right now.

“It’s okay baby, you’re almost- shit, you’re almost there,” he grunted weakly as he continued fucking into your walls with his fingers at your clit, his own eyes closing at how good your tightness felt around him.

You never heard yourself sound like this before, getting all whiny just as he whispered the words “Come for me” against your neck, sealing the space with a kiss and retreating his hand from your core, holding you in place as your orgasm hit like a flood.

You were squirming so much, walls pulsating like a drum as he kissed you down, your hands finally being brave enough to grip at his hair while he rode out your high.

You could tell that he didn’t finish inside you, but he was nice enough to slow down and not fuck you completely stupid.

“I can’t even believe we just did that,” you mumbled mindlessly, eyes staring back at him as he started to gently caressed your cheek.

“Wasn’t too bad for a quickie though, right?,” he asked jokingly while still inside you, not quite yet ready to pull out of your comforting warmth.

To say goodbye to the you he brought out in this sex-filled space.

“No… it wasn’t bad at all,” you smiled back, words sounding somewhere in between a shocking realization and sincere compliment.

“Then I guess that means we can look forward to doing this more often-”

“Heeseung-”

“Kidding,” he whispered softly, meeting your lips in one last kiss before leaning back up to adjust his pants, “now let’s get you cleaned up and ready for home before your mom has me crucified.”

“Okay,” you said while laughing slightly until he pulled out of you, your legs trembling a bit from the missing fullness.

From the feeling in his chest, Heeseung came to fully accept that he was 110% in love with you, not giving a flying fuck about the naysayers who’d disapprove of your now-even-more-complicated friendship.

You on the other hand, came to realize that Heeseung was worth much more than being judged by a bunch of hypocrites, and that you now had the courage to make a lot of your own decisions now, even if they’re solely for the sake of pleasure.

”Still,” you continued, watching as he stood up from the ground to grab a pack of wipes from his desk, “I just remembered that I locked my bedroom window when I left.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” He asked while parting your legs, wiping your sweaty thighs down with your panties hunched up in his other hand.

You admired the view of him cleaning you up with adoration flooding your heart, your limbs letting themselves relax as feathery words fell from your lips, “It means I might have to spend the night at your place for a little longer…”

Fin…

♱ Thank you beyond words to everyone reading this right now! I teased the release of this fic a while ago but ended up changing almost everything that I’d originally written because it was kinda shitty 🥴 but hopefully you all enjoyed this fic anyway! Also, masterlist is here !!

♱ tag list: @fakeuwus @adeoluhh @zerasari @anonant @yaatrickyaaa @depressedandobsessed666 @woninluv @moonshoon @imjakes-wifeofc1 @heesbee @kaykay11sworld @wannieepisod @ilikekpop-c @heesoo11 @idkdykilr @seungjiseyo @nctislifue @ro-diaries @heesushiii @jakehooni @babygirlmarshmellow @jaysdze @princeseung @flowerbe0m @skzenhalove @rayofsunshineeee @wonsbaer @namdeyuoi @tasnim10 @cheruluv @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @addictedtohobi @yourmomscuntis2tighy @ashgonedash

[victoria-grimesss]

Price Headcanons ~SFW & NSFW~

masterlist ->Paring: Captain John Price x F!Reader ->Warning: fluff, romance, smut down below >:) ->A/N: MDNI! I've had some of these floating around my head and had to write them down.

SFW:

This man needs a vacation, he needs to sit on the beach and drink a little something with an umbrella vacation.

I imagine even if he went on vacation, he would be the "feel free to text me if anything comes up I'm just a flight away" kinda guy. Please someone make him relax.

He's a romantic guy for sure, will kiss you on the hand and bring you flowers without asking.

When you go out to eat he will open the car door, the restaurant door, and pull out the chair for you because the woman he loves will NOT be touching a door. He gives you a wink once he tucks your chair in.

When he's home, especially right after he gets back he loves nothing more than to sit side by side and read your books together, make him a good cup of tea and he's sending heart eyes your way.

His favorite way to sleep is with you right on top of him. Out on the job he sleeps with his gear on, so he's become accustomed to having a weight on his chest when he sleeps, he feels uneasy without it. But when you lay onto of him like that he's out like a light.

He gets nightmares frequently, if you're a light sleeper he apologizes for waking you up but you never complain and for that he cannot repay you. If you're a heavy sleeper and you don't wake up he'll calm his beating heart and find comfort in your scent and soft breaths. Sometimes he wants to talk about it sometimes he doesn't, it depends on the severity and if he wants to plague you with it. At times he just wants to lay with you in his arms, he's safe at home with you, his boys are safe at their homes, everything is okay.

He's built a steady routine over the years, part of that routine is waking up ten minutes before he's supposed to so he can admire you when you sleep and hold you close to his bare chest, he loves these mornings.

He trusts you with his life, and with that he'll let you trim up his beard, a barber botched it once and Gaz laughed at him, so he said you're the only other person allowed to do it now.

He definitely falls asleep when watching TV and when you try to change it he'll wake up and say he's watching it.

One time you washed his hat without telling him and he panicked like when you lose your wallet. You had to pre-soak his hat twice to get it semi-normal.

I imagine him as a good cook but a shit baker. He gets frustrated when he tried to follow a cake recipe for your birthday and can't find the recipe under the person's life story. He went to the store and bought one then wrote your name on it.

He loves it when he can show off how strong he is, sometimes you'll pretend you can't open a jar just so he can crack his knuckles and "show you how its done".

He's over the moon if you ask him to show you how to fish, even more elated if you offer it as a date idea.

He loves to sit at the counter and listen to you talk about your day. He's a sucker about your voice and could listen to you talk about literally anything.

He calls you on his way back to base and talks to you on the drive home, makes the drive go faster.

He starts ring shopping 2 months after you two started dating, he knew you were the one.

He almost threw up when he proposed, he was so fucking nervous but the night went perfectly.

Definitely carried you through the door of your shared place when you got married, he's old fashioned like that.

His dad jokes are out of this world awful, but you laugh at them even if it hurts, because you love him.

Loves to have the team over to watch sport matches, when you were house shopping he always referenced about having them over when the two of you would view the living room.

When the two of you are out he puts a hand on the small of you back to guide you through crowds.

NSFW:

His stamina is impressive, he's an older guy but he can go for rounds and those rounds are heavy and sweaty.

Alot of things you do turn him on, kiss him on the spot where his neck meets his head, touch his knee and move you hand slowly up, tell him how much you missed him, tell him he looks good in that shirt, wear that shirt, really anything you do turns the man on.

John Price loves to love you through and through this man is a giver.

He will kiss you from ankle all the way up, muttering about how good you looked today and how much he was thinking about getting you out of these clothes.

Not possessive but more protective. Your relationship is built on mutual respect for one another, although there is a trend between the times when you get a little more attention from other guys and when he absolutely fucks your brains out. He denies it the next morning.

He uses his voice to his advantage. He purrs in your ear hours before he undresses you, light light touches and honeyed words butter you up to the point you're begging for him to take your clothes off. "You need me this bad love? Desperate girl." He wears a devilish smile.

Certified pussy eating master and I stand by that. That man can go forever between your thighs, his eyes roll to the back of his head when he first licks you, you'll have to pry him away beard soaked with evidence of his skills.

Good with his hands too, he angles then just the right way to find your G-spot, all while saying the dirtiest things just so he can feel you clench around his fingers. "You like that, fuck look at you dripping down my hand."

He loves when you grip his arms when he drives himself into you, you leave nail marks and he gets off on it. That you're feeling so good from what he's doing to you that you have to hold on that tight.

Favorite positions would be missionary, cowgirl, or anything where he can look you in the eyes so he can see your reaction when he slides it in so agonizingly slow.

Loves it when you ride him, front facing so he can see you cum. He makes you wear his hat for sure. And when it dips too low in front of your eyes he'll stop all movement just to fix it. "There's my pretty girl." He grinds into you to start again.

You guys fucked in his car once and he loved it, couldn't do it again though. His back hurt too much the next day.

Guilty pleasure is hotel sex. The both of you get a nice big room at a fancy hotel, have sex in clean white sheets making a mess of the newly made bed, he fucks you in the bed, the shower, the desk, over the dresser, and against the wall, afterwards you two order all you can eat room service.

He loves getting blowjobs when he smokes, something about the combination of the two make his head dizzy in a wonderful way.

Heavy on safe-words and making sure you feel the best you can when you two have sex, always checking in on you but in the most seductive ways as to not lose the mood.

Price loves to praise you, before during and after he's telling you how good you're doing and how beautiful you look taking him so well.

Most of the time he asks you where he should cum, he just likes hearing you say it, it gets him off harder.

Aftercare!! John is big on it, he'll take you to the bathroom and you'll have a bath together or shower, he'll give you extra time when he leaves so he can change the bedding and put on a sweet movie.

If your muscles ache he'll take a body oil or lotion and gets those knots out with those expert hands, he prefers it when you're naked for these massage sessions, easier to get all your sore spots he says.

More than half the time this result in another session and neither of you are complaining.

---

peepaw for the win!!!

[justabigassnerd]

Anxieties

Pairing - Tim Bradford x teen!reader

Word count - 3,918

Warnings - angst, fluff, anxieties, Kojo is the best boy, brief mention of nightmares

Summary - after the ordeal with your uncle, your anxieties begin to take hold of you, worrying the others

A/N - hey y'all it's finally time for another fic! I'm so sorry it took me so long to get a new fic out, this was an anon request and I hope I did it justice. I won't ramble but as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

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In the few weeks that passed after the ordeal with your uncle, you had found yourself on edge a lot more than normal. You felt like every time you surveyed a room, or walked down a street alone, you could see your uncle. But the moment you looked away and then looked back, he was gone. The logical part of your brain knew that Steve had been locked away and that Tim would never let him get near you but part of you was terrified that he’d somehow escape unnoticed and come after you. After all, Steve knew where you lived.

Despite all your anxieties, you hadn’t told Tim about them. He made it known that you could come to him about anything that was troubling you and you appreciated his willingness to be there for you. But you were scared that Tim would think you were being stupid for being so worried. So you opted to suffer in silence, constantly on edge and suffering from reoccurring nightmares about Steve hurting those you love.

Unbeknownst to you, Tim was suffering in his own fair share of anxieties regarding your safety. He always made sure that someone he trusted was picking you up from school now instead of relying on the school bus. He had asked you to send him regular updates throughout the day just to make sure you were okay and he even got the idea from Nolan to implement a safe word plan to let him know if anything was wrong or if you were completely fine.

“Chen, I’ve got a meeting with Kiara in a few, do you think you could pick y/n up for me?” Tim asks, bumping into Lucy as she is on her way out of the locker room, now in her civvies instead of her uniform. Tim had begun to have regular meetings with Kiara about moving forward with adopting you, she had been talking him through everything and he was soon going to have the official paperwork he was going to surprise you with somehow.

“Yeah, that’s fine I can do that,” Lucy says with a smile, already beginning to dig her car keys out of her pocket as she nods.

“Thank you,” Tim says gratefully, pulling out his phone to text you and let you know that Lucy would be picking you up before bidding Lucy goodbye and making his way to Grey’s office to pick up the paperwork he needed to do. Lucy heads out to her car, gets in, and drives in the direction of your school as she hums along to the song on the radio.

“Looks like Lucy is picking me up today.” You mumble as you read the text on your phone while you and your friends exit the school building.

“What have you done that means that you’re now being picked up every day instead of taking the school bus like you used to?” Juliet asks jokingly, wondering why you had suddenly stopped taking the bus.

“I don’t know. Maybe there was a rough case and Tim just wants to make sure I’m safe.” You shrug. You hadn’t told your friends about what had happened with your uncle but you didn’t think that you being picked up regularly was a product of that as it started a week after the incident. You had just come to the conclusion that Tim had gone through a rough case that caused this. As you glance around you quickly locate Lucy’s car as she pulls up and you say goodbye to your friends with the promise to text them later before heading over to the car, greeting Lucy as you get in.

“Hey y/n/n. How was school?” Lucy asks cheerfully as you get into the car, putting your bag in the footwell in front of you before buckling up your seatbelt.

“It was okay. It was school.” You say with a light shrug, offering Lucy a smile.

“Any fun gossip from today that you can tell me but not Tim?” Lucy then asks as she starts the car beginning the drive to your house. Over the time you had known her, Lucy had become your confidant. Anything you wanted to tell someone about that you weren’t ready to talk to Tim about, you could go to Lucy and she’d support you and give you advice when you needed it.

“No, sorry.” You say with a slight laugh as Lucy groans jokingly. The two of you continue to chat with each other until you make it home and you invite Lucy in as you usually did when she drove you home.

“Did you want to take Kojo on a walk with me?” You ask as you unlock the front door, looking over at Lucy as she nods.

“I’ll never turn down an opportunity to hang out with Kojo,” Lucy says with a smile, entering the house behind you, immediately crouching down to pet Kojo as he comes over to greet you while you put your bag down and grab Kojo’s lead. 

“Let’s go then, buddy.” You say to Kojo, clipping his lead on before the two of you leave the house again with Kojo trotting loyally by your side.

“Hey, do you want me to text Jackson and have him meet us at the park?” Lucy asks, pulling her phone out of her pocket as you nod with a smile.

“The more the merrier.” You say as Lucy types a message to Jackson. You felt a little safer knowing there would be not one but two police officers with you so if something did happen, both Lucy and Jackson would look out for you. You and Lucy continue to talk as you make your way to the park, settling down on a bench and playing fetch with Kojo once you arrive while you wait for Jackson to arrive. Before too long has passed, Jackson arrives, greeting you both with a smile before joining you on the bench, watching as Kojo sniffs around the park, investigating.

“How does it feel knowing you guys aren’t rookies for much longer?” You ask curiously, looking over at the two as Kojo comes trotting over, sitting by your feet and dropping the ball in his mouth at Jackson’s looking up at him and quietly begging for Jackson to throw the ball which he does so, sending Kojo darting off after it.

“It’s weird. But exciting. I can’t wait to patrol and not worry about when the next ‘Tim Test’ will happen.” Lucy admits with a laugh as Jackson nods in agreement.

“I mean I didn’t have Tim as my TO but I’m ready to get out on the streets without someone watching my every move,” Jackson says, watching as you nod. The three of you continue to talk about everything that comes to mind until Kojo comes trotting up to you, panting and signalling that he’s done playing.

“Come on, we’ll walk you home. I’m sure Tim will be home soon anyway.” Lucy says as all three of you stand from the bench and as you look up after clipping Kojo’s lead back on his collar you could’ve sworn that you caught sight of Steve disappearing behind a tree and it made you freeze in place, your breath hitching in your throat as you watch carefully to see if the person emerges again or not.

“Hello? Earth to y/n.” Lucy says, waving a hand in front of your face and bringing you back to reality.

“Sorry.” You say sheepishly, not missing Lucy and Jackson’s worried glance between each other.

“Is everything okay?” Lucy then asks, watching you carefully before Jackson speaks up.

“Did you see something?” Jackson asks, immediately on high alert as he surveys the park, looking for any suspicious behaviour.

“No, I just zoned out for a minute. Everything’s fine.” You say quickly with a weak chuckle before turning on your heels and walking off with Kojo by your side with Lucy and Jackson rushing after you. They were both worried about you but with your dismissive attitude, they didn’t want to push too much and drive you back into your cocoon after all the progress you’d made since being fostered, so as they followed you, they decided they’d bring it up with Tim and see if you’d open up to him about anything that was bothering you.

“Hey, is it okay if we come in and wait for Tim with you? I wanted to ask him something.” Lucy asks as you approach the house, turning to face them with a nod and a small smile.

“Yeah, he’s evidently not back yet so I’m fine if you come in to wait.” You say, unlocking the door and allowing them to come in while you crouch down to unhook Kojo from his lead, watching as he trots off in search of his water bowl. You, Jackson, and Lucy then sit in the living room and make small talk until you hear the key in the door and Tim announce his arrival, making you get up to greet him.

“Hey, Tim.” You say as you meet Tim by the door, hugging him quickly and missing the way Tim’s eyebrows furrowed at your greeting. Since the incident with your uncle, you’d started calling Tim ‘Dad’ a bit more often. You weren’t fully confident about calling him that in public or in front of other people just yet and Tim was okay with that, he just found it odd that you were calling him ‘Tim’ at home but when he heard more footsteps and looked up to see Lucy and Jackson he understood your shyness.

“Chen, West, what brings you here?” Tim asks as he releases you from the hug, watching as the two approach.

“We just wanted to talk to you about something,” Lucy says, fiddling with her fingers nervously.

“Okay,” Tim says simply.

“I’ll go to my room to give you some privacy.” You whisper quietly, grabbing your bag off the floor and heading to your room. Kojo follows behind you to keep you company while Tim, Lucy, and Jackson sit in the living room to talk.

“What’s up?” Tim asks, glancing between the two rookies as they each take a deep breath.

“We’re a little worried about y/n,” Lucy says, starting the conversation as Tim’s eyebrows furrow in thought.

“What’s going on? Is she okay?” Tim asks, already bracing his hands on either side of himself, ready to push himself onto his feet to go and check on you.

“We don’t know exactly but we both joined her when she took Kojo for a walk and just as we were getting ready to leave the park it was like she zoned out and she looked a little scared almost,” Jackson explains as best he can, recalling the event from earlier. Tim listens carefully thinking everything over in his head to try and figure out what it is that’s wrong.

“And she didn’t say anything?” Tim presses, wanting to get as much information out of the two as he can.

“She didn’t say anything. She said she was fine but I don’t fully buy it.” Lucy says, watching Tim carefully as he nods, carefully listening to every word she says.

“I’ll keep an eye on her. I don’t want to force her to tell me anything unless she’s ready to. But thank you for letting me know.” Tim says, nodding appreciatively at the two as they offer a small smile each before they decide to head home, both of them bidding Tim a quiet goodbye before they leave the house, leaving Tim alone with his thoughts until you appear in the doorway to the living room.

“Did Lucy and Jackson go home?” You ask, immediately noticing that the two are no longer in the house.

“Yeah, they left not too long ago. Sorry, I should’ve let you know they were leaving.” Tim apologises, watching as you shake your head with a small smile.

“I’ll see them again soon enough, it’s fine.” You say, assuring Tim that it was okay. In response, Tim nods with a tight-lipped smile as he gets to his feet.

“You hungry? I was going to make some dinner.” Tim asks, watching as you nod quietly, following him to the kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island and watching as Tim starts to get out various ingredients.

“Where’s Kojo?” Tim asks, noticing the lack of Kojo’s presence.

“He must’ve worn himself out on our walk because he hopped up on my bed and fell asleep before I’d even started my homework.” You say with a laugh.

“Well, we’ll let him sleep then. How else is he going to get the energy to drag me around on tomorrow morning’s walk?” Tim jokes, making you shake your head, laughing at the image of Tim being dragged around by Kojo.

“We can’t let him miss out on his dinner though.” You say watching Tim shake his head with a smile.

“Oh, he’ll know when it’s time for his dinner. You know that.” Tim says as you recall all the times Kojo used to paw and whine at you and Tim when it got close to his dinner time. You help Tim make dinner and he keeps a close eye on you, seeing if he can pinpoint any unusual behaviours from you. By the time you’ve finished making dinner and sat down to eat, Kojo had emerged from your room and demanded his dinner which you gave to him after you finished eating. As you finish tidying up after yourself, you turn to face Tim.

“I’m going to finish off my homework. I’ll be in my room if you need me.” You say, receiving a quick nod from Tim before you head off to your room, settling down at your desk and opening your laptop. Unbeknownst to Tim, you had actually finished your homework relatively quickly and easily earlier in the day, instead of doing any schoolwork when you opened your laptop, you opened a new tab and quickly searched up the recent news in Los Angeles. Your eyes scanned the various headlines that popped up, searching to see if there was anything to do with your uncle and him potentially escaping from prison somehow. You could feel your heart pounding and feel your mouth drying up as anxiety begins to wind itself around every part of you. When you read through the entire day’s worth of news, you let out a soft sigh of relief at the realisation that your uncle was still in prison. Despite the reassurance, you couldn’t shake the anxiety off that easily. Even after reading the various news headlines, even refreshing the page several times to double-check that nothing new had come through but even multiple checks couldn’t put your anxious mind at rest. You then decided to try and take your mind off it by catching up on some shows you and your friends have been talking about. You managed to watch a few episodes, but the moment a plotline came up in one of the crime shows where it depicted a convict escaping prison, you had to close your laptop and walk away from your desk. Your anxiety was now in high drive and you didn’t know how to stop it.

As if he sensed your troubles, Kojo nosed his way into your room as you sat down on the end of your bed, propping himself up on your legs using his front paws and resting his head on your lap, whining softly as he looked up at you.

“Hey, buddy.” You whisper shakily, beginning to pet Kojo softly, feeling your pounding heart begin to slow at the comforting presence of the dog. Taking your subtle cue, Kojo hauls himself up onto the bed alongside you, laying himself fully across your lap, the weight of your beloved dog helping to ground you even further as you repeatedly stroke his head. You stay put with Kojo for a few minutes before you decide to get ready for bed, having had enough of the day. You settled in bed, reading one of your lighthearted books with Kojo at your feet, and after about twenty minutes, Tim knocked on your door, entering with permission.

“Hey, kid.” Tim greets you softly, crossing to your bedside and smiling down at you.

“Hey.” You greet, putting your bookmark into your book and closing it, looking up at Tim.

“Goodnight, if you need me you can come and get me,” Tim says, leaning down to give you a hug which you reciprocate with a smile.

“I know, goodnight Dad.” You reply quietly, your smile widening slightly when you feel Tim tighten the hug ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Tim says, releasing you from the hug, reaching down to pet Kojo and then making his way out of your room and back to his own room to go to bed. You choose to stay up a few more minutes, reading your book to put your mind at ease enough to fall asleep and when your eyelids begin to grow heavy, you put your book down, turned your light off and drifted off to sleep.

A few hours later, you bolted up in bed, panting heavily with tears in your eyes and fumbling to switch your lamp on as Kojo lifted his head, watching you quietly.

“Sorry buddy.” You whisper, reaching over to pet Kojo. He lets out a soft whine, stretching over to rest his head on your lap, and you try to force the memories of the nightmare out of your head. As you sit there petting Kojo, you feel your mouth drying up in your anxiety so you gently move Kojo off your lap and head out to the kitchen to get a drink of water.

While you headed off to the kitchen, Kojo hopped off your bed and made a beeline to Tim’s room, pawing at the door to push it open enough for him to creep in. Kojo made his way into the room, propping his front legs on the bed and pawing at Tim, waking him up instantly.

“Kojo, go to sleep,” Tim says, cracking an eye open and seeing the dog watching him. When he attempted to close his eyes, Kojo pawed at Tim once more, whining and making Tim open his eyes again, this time propping himself up on his elbow as he switched his lamp on.

“What is it?” Tim asks, aware of how silly it is to be asking a dog for an answer but after seeing the almost worried look on Kojo’s face, he starts to grow concerned himself.

“Is something wrong with y/n?” Tim then asks, and at his words, Kojo pushes off the bed and walks over to the door, looking back at Tim over his shoulder as Tim pushes himself off the bed and follows Kojo as he leads him to the kitchen where you were stood cradling a glass of water, eyes full of tears as you stared out the window.

“y/n? What’s up, kid?” Tim calls out to you softly, not missing how you jumped at the sound of his voice before you turned to face him.

“I’m fine.” You try weakly, quickly lifting a free hand to wipe at the unfallen tears.

“Somehow I’m not convinced,” Tim says, a soft joking tone to his voice as he approaches you slowly.

“I just needed a glass of water, I promise I’m okay, Tim.” You try again and this time Tim shakes his head, knowing you weren’t okay.

“You can tell me what’s wrong. I promise I won’t be upset.” Tim says, standing opposite you and watching you carefully.

“Can we talk in my room?” You ask quietly, glancing over your shoulder and watching the window carefully as a sense of unease settles into your body.

“Of course. You head to your room with Kojo and I’ll be right behind you.” Tim says reassuringly, picking up on your nervousness and taking the appropriate action. You nod quietly, heading to your room with Kojo by your side while Tim stays behind, flicking all the lights off as he makes his way to your room before entering your room, finding you sat on your bed with Kojo practically curled up on your lap as you stroked him softly.

“Hey.” You say quietly as Tim pulls out your desk chair, pulling it alongside your bed and sitting on it, regarding you softly.

“What’s up, kid?” Tim asks as your focus drops to Kojo, a small smile appearing on your face as Kojo lets out a small huff of appreciation as you stroke him.

“Promise you won’t think it’s stupid?” You ask quietly, briefly looking up at Tim before focusing back on Kojo.

“I promise I won’t think it’s stupid. Whatever it is, it’s got you shaken up pretty bad.” Tim assures you softly, letting you know there would be no judgement.

“I keep thinking I can see my uncle everywhere I go. I think I catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye and then I’m anxious for the rest of the day. I’m constantly checking the news to see if he escaped and I’m terrified that he’ll get out and if he does, he knows where I live. I keep having nightmares about what happened a few weeks ago. And I’m terrified he’s going to do it again.” You explain, tears welling in your eyes as Tim’s expression softens.

“He’s not going to get out. And in the very rare event that he does, he’d have to be prepared to get through almost all of the LAPD before he could hurt a hair on your head. I can promise you that.” Tim says, his voice never wavering as you reach up to wipe more unfallen tears from your eyes. At Tim’s words, you nod lightly, still not completely at ease but you found comfort in Tim’s willingness to protect you.

“You’d really get the LAPD to protect me if he got out?” You ask quietly as Tim nods.

“There isn’t one thing I wouldn’t do to protect you. I’d do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” Tim says, watching you as you smile despite your tears, carefully moving Kojo off your lap so you can embrace Tim who is of course quick to accept the hug, holding you close as he feels you relax.

“Thank you, Dad.” You whisper gratefully, burying your face in his shoulder.

“No need to thank me, y/n/n. I’ve got you.” Tim says softly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head before releasing you from the hug, watching as you sit back on your bed, giggling as Kojo sits up and takes the opportunity to lick your cheek.

“I’ll let you get some more rest. But if you’re still anxious and need me don’t be afraid to wake me up. Or send Kojo to do it for you.” Tim says, petting Kojo as he stands from your chair, putting it back behind your desk as you get back into your bed. Once you’re under the covers, you say one last goodnight to Tim before lying down as he leaves your room, leaving you to fall into a comforting sleep, knowing that Tim would move heaven and earth to keep you safe and that you’d be protected no matter what.

taglist (comment or ask to be added):

@starlightandsouls @whirlwind2005

[krispycreamcake]

Laito Sakamaki bf headcanons♤♤

🃏- Ok so uhhhhh let's all just be honest with ourselves

🃏- I really really do enjoy his character and its development, but this man would not exactly be the best boyfriend

🃏- Obviously all diaboys have their extremely toxic flaws, so I'm gonna be as unbiased as I can and give him a worthy depiction

🃏- Depending on your personality and how you've acted towards him, I see him as someone who usually seeks out your comfort in trying times

🃏- It's moments like these where he's so unaccustomed to being vulnerable that he'll have a slight panic attack that you'll betray him

🃏- Luckily however, the more your relationship grows, the less that feeling will be there, but it will definitely take time

🃏- He's definitely asked you to shower with him multiple times, but for different reasons

🃏- Like sometimes he's genuinely so at peace to finally be naked and not hate himself after, or to share something so intimate with you that isn't sex

🃏- Let's be real, sex isn't something special for him, it's just a regular Saturday night

🃏- But knowing that he gets to share it for the first time in his life with someone who he feels safe around, is something he can get behind

🃏- Has you sit on his lap while you both do crossword puzzles together

🃏- Doesn't seem like the type who enjoys making big meals, so he prefers to take you out to eat if it's a special occasion

🃏- Honestly loves talking to you late at night(?) Or morning or whatever it is

🃏- He enjoys the honesty of the conversations and the fact that he doesn't need to see through you, you're just reading to him the pages of your mind

🃏- Watches shows like NCIS, Law and Order, Dexter, etc. He begssss you to watch it with him and catches you up to speed with the episodes

🃏- Realistically, he doesn't always want to cuddle and be in your space. Some nights he just needs time alone for whatever reason and teases you when you get lonely

🃏- Extremely clingy when he's having a hard time keeping his mask on so he tries to play it off as just his normal behaviour (if you know him well enough, you'd immediately catch on)

🃏- Give him well thought out gifts and he'll start planning your future together

🃏- Talks about growing old together and having kids

🃏- Speaking of, you're not dying to old human age on his watch. Whether you want to become a vampire or not, he will turn you into one, you are not leaving his side

🃏- Dry ass texts when he's fully awake and long ass convos when he's about to pass out

🃏- Helps you learn how to play sudoku but will purposely give you wrong tips the first time around so he can flaunt how good he is

🃏- Doesn't understand why you like it when he wears his glasses and insists he looks like an otaku

🃏- Late night walks away from the manor so you both can moon gaze and enjoy the serenity of nature

🃏- One time when Ayato bit you, you insisted that instead of causing drama, he try something more civil (He put laxatives in his Gatorade before a basketball match against another school)

🃏- Also on a related note, really enjoys pranking you and encourages you to prank him back

🃏- For some reason I can imagine him getting really into butterflies and their anatomy. I personally think he has his own sketchbook where he draws them and makes notes on the different species

🃏- Loves to fly kites, he does not care whether you're with him or not, will fly a kite because why not

🃏- Watches mukbangs with you and even chooses the next couple videos

🃏- Jokes about you starting an OF, but had a nightmare that your dream partner found you and whisked you away from him like a prince in shinning armour

🃏- He enjoys playing hand games with you. Yeah idk why I thought about this but it seems to fit

🃏- Enjoys seeing you wear modest clothes. Not because he's picturing the underneath, but he knows you're gorgeous because you can pull being modest AND being naked off

🃏- Wants a Shiba Inu as a pet someday

🃏- He really tries to love you even if he does hurt you from time to time

[unreliablesnake]

Is it too soon? (Simon Riley x f!reader)

Summary: Simon meets you at a cemetery by accident, but by the time you go on your first date, he already knows this will be something serious.

Length: 3.9k words

Note: Simon falls fast and falls hard. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

Simon couldn’t believe that it had already been a year since he lost his family. The nightmares were still there to remind him of that period of his life each night, but somehow he got almost used to having them. Being on mission after mission probably helped him get over the pain quite fast, but returning home was always a hard moment. It always brought back the bad memories that then poisoned his mind for the next few days.

Today he came to the cemetery to leave a few fresh flowers at the graves, hoping it could make him come to terms with how things turned out this year. It was only the first anniversary, but he was already three months late because of the mission he’d been on. Shit happens, he knew that, but it still hurt to know he wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

“Excuse me,” he heard a thin voice from somewhere behind him. When he turned around with a cocked eyebrow, his eyes landed on you, this sad-looking but otherwise gorgeous young woman. He gulped, but didn’t say anything, only waited for you to say what you wanted. “You dropped your earbuds when you tried to put them in your pocket.”

He looked down at your extended hand that held his earbuds just as you said. “Thanks,” was all he managed to say.

Hesitantly, but he eventually reached out to take them from you, and he could’ve sworn there was a spark when his fingers touched your soft skin. It was bad, he shouldn’t pick up a woman in a goddamn cemetery, but he couldn’t let you go. Something told him you were special, that there could be something between the two of you. So he cleared his throat as he shoved the earbuds into his pockets–this time double checking to make sure they were safe–and let his eyes lock with yours for the first time since you had spoken to him.

“Are you on your way out or have you just arrived?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“I’m on my way out. I guess you’ve just arrived,” you said with a small smile, earning a surprised look from the soldier. “The flowers. I’m sure you didn’t come here to steal them.”

Simon looked down at the small bouquet in his hands. “You’re correct. I know it probably sounds creepy in a place like this, but would you walk with me to the graves I’m here to visit?” he asked you.

Like a curious puppy, you tilted your head to the side as you watched him. He felt like running away without a word, hiding somewhere while you left the premises. But in the end you flashed a delicate smile at him and nodded. “Sure, why not?”

The two of you began to walk, and the silence that fell between the two of you was strangely comfortable. Just having you around calmed him down. Even when he stopped in front of his family’s grave, you just stood there next to him and waited patiently for him to be the first one to speak up. As he put the flowers on the headstone, he wondered what to say. He asked you to join him, but he didn’t think this far ahead.

When he looked over at you, he noticed that you were reading the text on the headstone. “My entire family is here. They died a bit over a year ago,” he explained without you asking anything.

“I’m sorry,” you told him. “Accident?”

What was he supposed to say? The truth? That would just scare you away. But he didn’t want to begin whatever this could be with a lie, so he decided to tell you some of what happened. “No, they were murdered,” he said quietly.

This clearly piqued your interest, but you decided not to intrude his privacy. Simon felt his emotions slowly take over, and the tears began to gather in his eyes as he remembered the day of his brother’s wedding. You probably noticed, because soon you reached out to take his hand in yours, fingers curling around his in the most gentle way.

After a good three minutes of silence, he took a deep breath, then turned to you with a weak smile. “Thanks for being here with me.”

The two of you left the cemetery in another round of comfortable silence, but only when you stepped outside to the street did the cloud over his brain lift. He hadn’t even asked for your name, and you joined him without knowing his. He could be a serial killer for all you knew, yet you agreed to be by his side without a question.

Simon drew circles on your hand with his thumb while he watched you with an intrigued look on his face. How could a cute girl like you be so trusting in this world? He wondered how many people had taken advantage of your naivety before, but he sure wasn’t about to be one of them.

“I’m Simon, by the way,” he finally introduced himself.

You flashed a smile at him before telling him your name. A cute girl with an equally cute name. He couldn’t hide the grin that wanted to creep on his face, and for the first time in months he felt like going on a date with someone. With you, to be specific. He looked down at your hand that was still holding his, wondering why you hadn’t let go of it yet. There was something about you that he just couldn’t describe, no matter how hard he tried to find the right words in his mind. Special didn’t cut it. It wasn’t a good enough word to describe what he felt.

In the end it was him who pulled away his hand to take his phone from his pocket, only to unlock the screen and tap on the add a new contact icon before handing it to you. “Can I get your number?”

This was a long shot, he knew it. You probably just took pity on him, so you weren’t truly interested in him. But then you took the device and typed in the details. Once you were done, you started a call to yourself and gave the phone back to him. “Now you know it’s my real number,” you said with an adorable chuckle. “Do you want to drink a cup of coffee or something?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, if you’re free.”

All of his plans for today had been sitting on the couch and watching some TV, maybe calling Price to see if he needed any help so he wouldn’t be alone at home. Being in the company of another human being might help him forget about his late family members, and the fact this other human was a woman like you was just the cherry on top.

So he agreed, and the two of you got in his car and drove to a café you suggested. What quickly became obvious was the lack of flirting from your part, which made him wonder if you even considered this whole thing a date. It made him sad, actually; the possibility of him misreading the situation was mortifying. How could he be so out of practice?

After an agonizing two hours that passed with a pleasant but definitely not flirtatious conversation, the two of you said goodbye and he finally headed home. He should have cooked something for himself, but in the end he decided to order from a nearby restaurant instead and watch some dumb romcom to turn off his brain for a while.

The next day passed slowly with chores around the apartment and some grocery shopping, but then his phone buzzed in his pocket. He expected it to be Price, telling him it was time for another mission, or Johnny, who would send him some meme without context. But when he glanced at the screen, he saw it was you who messaged him.

You: Feeling better today?

A smile crept on Simon’s lips as he read the short text. Even if it wouldn’t be a romantic relationship, he might have just gained a new friend.

Simon: Yeah, thanks. What about you?

You: I’m good. Enjoying my week off. Do you have plans for tonight? We could hang out.

He had to stop and think about the answer. If neither of you worked that day, you could have met in the afternoon. But you wanted to meet in the evening. His delusional side told him you just asked him out, but his rational side reminded him that you had sent absolutely no signals that would prove you were interested in him in this sense.

You: Sorry if I seem a little pushy.

Simon: No, it’s not that, I just took a quick call.

A lie. Great start.

You: So how about tonight then?

Simon: Maybe we could watch a movie?

You: Sounds good to me.

Simon: Pick a movie and tell me where to meet. Or I can pick you up at home.

You: Okay :)

God, how he wished it was a date. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been on one. And you were so good to him, he was sure you would be a great girlfriend. Hell, you were a great wife material. But he fantasized about something he might never get, so it was only good for torturing his heart.

Once he got home, he went straight to his closet to figure out what to wear. He didn’t want to be too formal, but he didn’t want to be too casual either. He had to find the middle ground, something that would grab your attention, but wouldn’t scream ‘I’m desperate, please, look at me’ either.

After half an hour he gave up and called Johnny. “Hey, so I need advice, and I know for a fact you go on quite a few dates when you’re not on a mission,” he said into the phone.

The sergeant sounded a little offended when he let out a dry laugh. “You make me sound like I was a manwhore. But I’ll overlook that for now. What do you need help with?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to wear when I’m meeting a woman but it’s not a date?” he asked.

“But you wish it was a date,” was all the younger man said, probably having a wide grin on his face.

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. That was on him. He brought this on himself when he called his only proper friend. “That’s beside the point, Johnny,” he replied.

But he wasn’t about to let go of this topic. “No, no, no, it matters. You see, if you dress right, if you act right, you might be able to turn this into a real date.”

“I’m listening,” the lieutenant said with a sigh.

He could imagine the sergeant sitting down and leaning back with his free hand resting on the back of his neck as he took his time to enjoy the chance to teach his superior something new, something he could tease him with on their next mission. But it was a risk he was willing to take, after all he needed all the help he could get. He didn’t really know why, but he truly wanted you to change your mind and see him as a possible boyfriend. It was pathetic, that one he knew, but this was the truth. You’ve been on his mind ever since you said goodbye the day before, and he didn’t even want to forget about you.

“Here’s the thing,” Johnny began, keeping his voice down as if he was telling him a secret. And maybe this was a real secret, the trick he used to get the girls he was chasing, and Simon became a member of a possibly very tiny circle that knew about this. He was honestly grateful for the advice, and even made a mental note to go easy on him the next time they met.

With all the information he had gathered from Johnny, Simon could barely sleep that night. All he could think about was possibly fucking up things with you, that maybe he shouldn’t follow this plan, but then he realized that he didn’t have better ideas. His brain froze from the mere thought of talking to you again, as if he was back in high school when he was too traumatized by his family issues to think he was good enough for someone.

The next day he often had his phone in his hand, ready to open the messaging app and send you a text to cancel. Other times he just wanted to ask you how you were, if you were still willing to meet him tonight. His head was a mess, and he was honestly grateful that he wasn’t on a mission right now. He couldn’t focus, he wasn’t sure about anything, and if he was in a situation where his life was on the line, he would definitely be dead by now.

“Get it together, dammit,” he mumbled to himself as he collected his keys and opened the front door in the evening as he was leaving.

His phone buzzed in his hand, and before he glanced at the screen, he expected it to be a supportive or teasing text from Johnny. It could be either of those, he never knew with him. But his heart stopped for a second when he saw it was from you. You probably wanted to cancel at the last minute.

You: I might be a few minutes late. But I’ll be there before the movie begins, I promise!!!

So you were coming. He wrote a simple okay, afraid to write more than that. He didn’t want to sound desperate, even though he was truly desperate at the moment. He could only hope Johnny’s plan would work and he could turn this into a date, because there was nothing he wanted more than giving you a goodbye kiss. He wasn’t even dreaming about expecting more from the night. A kiss would be a start. A good start.

It took him half an hour to get there, arriving ten minutes early despite you warning him that you’d be late. But he wanted to be there just in case. That, and he never knew how bad the traffic would be. He was looking at his phone while he waited for you, wondering if he should text someone just to pass the time. Maybe ask Price if they were supposed to return soon, just so he would know how to plan with you. If there was anything to plan. He hadn’t known that yet.

In the end you were only fifteen minutes late, which was much less than the at least half an hour he had in mind for some reason. You were wearing a gorgeous navy blue dress under your coat, and he was seriously thinking about pulling you into a hug to warm you up a bit. Why did you dress like that when it was so chilly outside? Maybe you wanted to impress him. But if you wanted to impress him, then this could just as well be a date.

You stopped in front of him with a wide smile, your hands folded behind your back as you looked up at him. It was real torture that he couldn’t act on his instinct and pull you close to him, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead before gently pressing your face into his chest. It was so damn pathetic that after only meeting you once for a good half an hour or hour, he was already this lost in his feelings for you. He didn’t even know what you were like in real life. All he had were a bunch of social media posts that he may or may not have checked after getting home last afternoon.

“I’m sorry you had to wait,” you said before suddenly hugging him, wrapping your arms around his body.

Before his brain could catch up, he put his hands on your back and rested his chin on top of your head. You didn’t seem to mind, and to his surprise, you even mumbled something into his chest. He wanted to know what you said, but he didn’t want to end this moment. Who knew how this night would end, maybe this was his last chance to be this close to you.

“We should buy the tickets,” you told him when you leaned back to look up at him.

“Or we could stay like this,” Simon suggested with a lazy smile.

With a quiet chuckle you stood on your toes and placed a soft kiss on his chin. “Too bad I really want to see that movie,” you noted before stepping away from him.

The sudden lack of contact made him sad, but you immediately took his hand which quickly made things right. To make sure you wouldn’t let go, he laced his fingers with yours and let you pull him after you. Wherever you went, he would surely follow, he knew that much by now. He didn’t even try to hide the smile he had on his face; that big, stupid, and happy smile which was a clear sign that he was falling in love with you at record speed.

As the night progressed, he realized that he had been stressing over nothing. You were clearly interested in him as a possible boyfriend, otherwise you would have spent the rest of the evening clinging to him like that. During the whole movie you had your head resting on his shoulder, fingers intertwined and resting on your thigh, and when you went to grab a drink in a nearby bar, your eyes were always on him as you sat at a table in the corner. You had those big, beautiful eyes he couldn’t get bored of, and being with you felt like a privilege.

There was something about you that made him wonder why you let him so close this fast. Even in the cemetery you joined him without a word, then initiated tonight’s meeting before he could gather the courage to suggest it. This could be dangerous, he could have been a bad guy, but lucky for you, he wasn’t as scary as he looked in his private life. You made him soft without even trying, and you made his mind wander far away, escaping reality as long as he could look at you and touch you.

“My dad would be disappointed in me, you know,” you suddenly said, earning a questioning hum from him. You flashed a smile at him before taking the straw between your lips so you could take a sip of your drink before answering. “He always warned me about tough guys like you. Said I should be careful, that I should stay away for my own safety.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed at this. “He thought a guy like that would hurt you? Did something like this happen in the past?”

You were quick to shake your head and put up a hand. “God, no, it’s just… He always assumed they would hurt me emotionally. You know, they would cheat on me or turn out to be narcissistic assholes,” you explained with a laugh before reaching out to take his hand. “But he would like you. Actually, you would be the first guy I would confidently introduce to my parents without worrying about their reaction.”

“So you’re thinking this far ahead, huh?” he asked teasingly. You sank lower in your chair with your bottom lip between your teeth, but didn’t say a word. “Don’t worry, I’m already planning our wedding.” Your eyes widened upon hearing this, so he let out a laugh and raised your hand to his lips. “Just kidding. But I really like you. That one’s true.”

“I like you too.” Your gaze turned to your watch and you let out a sad sigh when you noticed the time. “I should get going. I have to wake up early tomorrow if I don’t wanna be late from work,” you told him with an apologetic smile.

He nodded, but he was sure you could see his disappointment. “Can I take you home? I wouldn’t want you to go alone.”

“I’d love that.”

The two of you left the bar hand in hand, and Simon didn’t miss the moments when you looked up at him with that adorable smile of yours. As it turned out, you didn’t live that far away from each other. Once he found a free spot a little further away from the building you lived in, he parked his car and offered to walk you to the door.

Just to be sure you got home safe. His hope to get a goodnight kiss had nothing to do with this.

He couldn’t hold back the short laugh that erupted from him for no reason. What was so funny? The fact he oh-so-desperately wanted to taste your lips? Whatever it was, he knew you were the root of the problem. If he wasn’t here with you, he wouldn’t be laughing at stupid things like some idiot.

“What is it?” you asked with a curious smile.

But he only shook his head. “Nothing.”

You came to a sudden halt and pointed at the building next to you, telling him that was your stop. “But seriously, what’s so funny? I want to laugh too,” you said with a pout.

Were you even aware of the effect you had on him? He highly doubted that. So he put his fears aside and leaned down to kiss you, his hand simultaneously moving to the back of your neck. You didn’t resist, in fact you deepened the kiss, even playfully biting in his lip while you tried to devour him.

Simon knew he had to stop this before you would do something you would regret later. This was only your first date, you were in no rush to get to the bedroom, no matter how badly his body craved yours.

“You said you had to wake up early tomorrow,” he said when he pulled away to your disappointment. “Go to sleep, gorgeous.”

You flashed a sad smile at him, but you nodded. “Goodnight, Simon,” you said quietly.

He flashed a supportive smile at you as he gently grabbed your chin to make you look at him. “Sleep tight. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Once he got home, Simon took a look at his phone. He could only roll his eyes when he saw several messages from not only Johnny, but Kyle and Price as well. The rumor mill was working at full speed that day apparently. But then his eyes noticed one that wasn’t like the others.

You: Is it stupid that I think I’m already falling in love with you after our first date?

A smile appeared on Simon’s face when he read these words. You were a little drunk, so this must be drunk honesty.

Simon: I feel the same way. If it’s stupid, then we’re both idiots.

You: I love you.

You: Or is it too soon?

You: Oh, gosh, it’s too soon.

You: I’m sorry.

Simon: Hey, calm down, it’s okay. I love you too.

Simon: Now go to sleep.

[oreolemur]

Streamer's Worst Nightmare

Working as a streamer, you never showed your face. It was easy to make money having a cute virtual character impersonate you, but after losing a couple of fans, money became tight. “Guess what guys?”, you asked your audience through the stream. “I’m starting an Onlyfans!”. In the chat section you had a mixture of comments complimenting and some shaming you. “I know this may be a bad idea…but at least I’ll let you guys see my face”. Looking at the chat you began to get more supportive replies. “It’ll only be for a short time until I work something out for extra cash. I hope you all subscribe and see more of my personal interests”. Waving goodbye to your fans, you immediately shut off your webcam. “I can’t believe I’m doing this”, you sighed. 

Meanwhile, there was one fan of yours who wasn’t too happy about your decision. “An Onlyfans, huh?”, the man titled his head. “I’m not too happy to hear about that y/n”. He sat in front of his computer, lurking through your socials as he scarfed down a bunch of sweets. “I should pay a visit to her soon”. Crouching at his desk, L took drastic measures to find your location. “I will have you sooner or later, my sweet doll”.

Over the next few days, you began to feel more and more comfortable with your new line of work. “I’m making more than what I do streaming”, you beamed, staring at your financial statistics. “Maybe I should keep this up. Just for a little”. Posting pic after pic and video after video, you decided to open up your messages to give your subscribers a paid one on one chat with you. “Cum to my dm’s and have a little fun with me in private, my loves”, you say, making a vid of yourself in a pink robe. “I’ll be waiting”. 

After making your final post for the day, you spent the entire night trying to reply back to the hundreds of customers who hit your dm’s. “I didn’t know I’d get this much”. Without opening the last few that came in, you got bored. “Nothing new?”, you scoffed. “It’s all the same suggestions”. Before closing your laptop, you received another message. “This one better be good”. Opening it, your eyes widened. “Hello”, it read. “At least this one has a normal greeting”, you smiled.

Messaging the person back, you enjoyed talking to them. “Wow, it’s been 30 minutes and they haven’t asked for anything special yet”. Texting them back, you asked them this. “Are you not interested in seeing anything special tonight?”. Waiting for their reply, you suddenly hear a noise in your living room. “That must be the cat again”, you sighed. Getting up from your bed, you headed that way. “Come here baby”, you signaled your pet. Picking up the furry animal, you walked back towards your room. Seeing the notification come through, you gently put down your cat. As you read the reply, your heart skipped a beat. “W-what?”. Reading the message again, you wanted to make sure that your eyes were working correctly. “Something special? Like your cute fuzzy slippers in the front doorway”, the message read. “This can’t be happening”, you begin to panic. Texting the person back, “What fuzzy slippers? I don’t have any”.  Biting his nails, L stood in front of your bedroom door, “These ones”, he said. 

Feeling a chill go down your spine, your heart beats fast as you froze. “You do have quite an interesting taste in style, doll”. Seeing the man from the corner of your eye, you turned around slowly. “H-How did you get in?”, you asked. He approached you slowly, bending down to your level as you sat on the bed. “Don’t worry about that”, he said. L’s big eyes stared at you, taking note of all of your beautiful facial features. “You know…”, he paused. “You’re more pretty in person…and short too”. He then tried to reach for your face, but you smacked his hand away. “D-don’t touch me”, you said, scooting back. L grabbed your leg, pulling you back towards him. “I’m stronger than I look. I would hate it if you made me get physical with you, my love”, he said. 

“What do you want?”, you asked. “You”, L replied. "M-me? Why me?", you questioned. "If you're some creepy fan that has a crush on me...I won't date you". L tilts his head. "Why you? You're interesting. You interest me in ways no other human has. I want to peel you open. Analyze every inch of your brain until I know everything about you”, he chuckles. Hearing him say that creeped you out even more. L leans forward with each word. As he does so, his long black hair falls around his face, shrouding his eyes from view. "I want to get inside you”. L leans forward even more, until his face is mere inches from yours. His hair, now a tangled mess, conceals his face, but you can see the glint of curiosity and hunger in his eyes. "I want... to devour you." L whispers, his voice dripping with desire.

He tried to grab you, but you dodged it. You fell on the floor, getting up quickly to run away. The man smirked. He liked to watch people try and escape him. He always caught his prey in the end. L follows you, moving surprisingly quickly for somebody as lanky as him. "Where are you going, dear? The game was just getting interesting”. You ran into the living room, tripping over your cat's litter box. "Shit!", you yelled. You got up, heading towards the front door. L chuckled again. He really liked how you were trying to escape. It was so amusing and cute to watch you try and get away from him. L continued his pursuit, closing the ever-shrinking distance between you. "Don't you know that running away only makes me want you more, my dear? The more you resist, the more I crave to devour you”. 

You tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge. L was suddenly directly behind you, his lips next to your ear. "It doesn't matter. There is no escaping me at this point, darling. I'm faster. I'm stronger. I'm smarter. You will be mine." L's words send shivers down your spine. He wrapped his arm around your neck, pulling towards you to the bedroom. "Let me go!", you shouted. "Oh, you are so adorable. Trying to act so tough even though you're shaking like a leaf in my grasp. I can feel how tense you are. You know you can't get away from me, but still, you persist. It's so cute!" L continues to drag you to the bedroom, a smug smirk on his face. 

Once inside, he throws you onto the bed as he proceeds to take off his shirt. L tosses his shirt to the side, revealing his pale, lean chest. His eyes glint wickedly as he looks down at you. "Are you feeling vulnerable, my dear?”. You begin to cry, seeing him get closer and closer to you. "Please go away!", you begged. "Oh, but my darling, we're just getting started." L climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. As he does so, his long black hair falls forward, framing his face again. "You can't run from me. You can't hide from me. I will always find you." He leans down and whispers in your ear. "You're my obsession now”. He rubbed his hands through your hair, pulling on it as he brought your face close to his.  "Shhh... let me hear those pretty cries," L says, placing his finger on your lips. "I want to savor every sound that comes out of you. You're so enticing when you're scared. It's like I'm feasting on a delicious meal”.

He kissed your lips passionately, pushing his tongue past the barrier of your lips. He explored the inside of your mouth, slightly moaning. A trail of spit connected both of your lips and he pulled away. “Now…”, he said. “I want to see more of you”. His hand opened the slit of your robe, exposing your breasts. “Perfect”, L said. He pinned your arms above your head as he moved his way down to your tits. He stuck out his tongue, licking your sensitive nipples. “S-stop”, you said, letting out a small whimper. His hand traveled down to your waist, rubbing your bare cunt. “You have such soft skin”, he said, making a pop suction noise as his mouth latched on and off your tit. Your legs shook, feeling him massage your clit. “No”, you said, closing them, trapping his hand in between your thighs. “I don’t like uncooperative people, my dear”, he said, forcing your legs open.

L’s cock hardened inside his pants, making him blush. “My god”, he said, moving his hand away from your pussy, he had your arms pinned with one hand as the other moved to unbutton his pants. “I didn’t think I would get this excited”, he said. You laid there crying, wishing this situation was over with. You saw his dick poke out of his boxers. “Stay still”, he said, unpinning you. He pulled them down just enough so he can fuck you. With your legs still spread, L positioned himself comfortably between them. He placed his cock on your cunt, spitting on it. He rubbed himself on you, attempting to lube your dry pussy. “If you scream I will hurt you”, he said, shoving cock inside you. The size caught you off guard, making you cry even louder. “Take it out!”, you yelled. He covered your mouth, leaning into your ear. “I can tell it’s your first time, my love”, he slightly smirked. “I felt your hymen break”. His thrusts were slow as he placed kisses onto your neck. His teeth sunk into your skin, leaving bruises. 

Your body started to like his touch as your cunt became used to his cock. You tried to tell yourself that you didn’t like it, but you liked how fucked up the situation was. “Your body is starting to relax. You don’t feel tense anymore”, L grunted. He let go of your mouth, kissing your soft lips. He bit your lower lip, drawing blood. “If you keep up this good behavior…I might just let you go”. His thrusts quickened as he felt your walls tighten around him. You moaned as his pace went faster, feeling your orgasm arriving. L rested his head beside yours, moaning into your ear. “After I’m done, I’ll make sure no one else sees your body but me”.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 7]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

When you escaped your parents’ house and moved into the city for college, you already knew the basics of cooking. Since you had turned fourteen, it had been your responsibility to feed yourself. 'You are old enough to figure it out' was what your parents had told you. Living in the dorms didn't give you much opportunity to cook and when you finally had your own kitchen to really play around in, you didn't have the money to afford a full pantry. It was hard, but it never deterred you and you learned a couple of good recipes.

When Minnie came along and you were able to figure out her likes and dislikes, you made a few changes - you could finally afford to get all organic produce and bread not made from ninety percent sawdust and you started cooking even more because your little one didn't like things from a can. 

And despite what the experts and people online say, you give in to every one of Minnie's food whims. You don't want to force her to eat things she doesn't like. Your parents never listened to you, even if the food made you sick - you ate what was given to you or not at all. You are not going to do that to her and the rules you have come up with are she at least has to try something. If she doesn't like it, she doesn't need to eat it, and the past few months she's been pretty good at telling you why she doesn't like something. You don't always understand her reasoning, but you accept and tell her that she can try it again when she's bigger. 

Her favorite thing that you make is lasagna. You make it from scratch and she usually loves to help you and will spend all day excited for ooey-gooey cheese.

Usually.  

Today is not a usual day. Today your daughter is an upset little banshee. As soon as she woke up, she was in a bad mood. She didn't want to be touched at all and getting her dressed was a nightmare. Lots of 'no's and crying about how all her clothes were itchy until you finally allowed her to just wear her swimsuit. It was the only thing you could get her to stay in. You didn't even try with her hair, running your fingers through it to get out some knots, but that only lasted a full five seconds before she was running away from you.

You are trying to be patient with her - you know that something must be upsetting her, whether it be waking up on the wrong side of the bed or she's starting to get a cold and not feeling well. She doesn't know how to express herself beyond crying and you don't blame her. You want to cry when you don't feel well. 

That doesn't mean it isn't stressful for you. The back of your skull is throbbing from her screams and your own mood is sour because you don't know how to help. Hearing her so upset breaks your heart. 

Matt is supposed to come by, thus the homemade dinner, but part of you wonders if you should cancel. Minnie isn't going to calm down anytime soon and you would feel bad having him come over just to witness a tantrum. On the other hand, tantrums are a part of having a child. 

You decide to leave it up to him and send him a text letting him know Minnie is having a bad day. He quickly responds he still wants to come, so you return to working on your tomato sauce as quietly as you can.

Mouse has hidden herself under a throw blanket with her tablet and her plushies on the couch. You don't worry about her doing anything she shouldn't be - the tablet is child locked to hell and back - but it is a little hard to tell what she is doing since she's muted the tablet. There is an eerie purple glow coming from under the blanket, so you can guess she's playing one of her games. You've found a few that don't require sound that she enjoys - a few dress up games and matching things. 

Occasionally you hear her sniffle or mumble but she doesn't call for you, so you let her be. She didn't really nap today, so you're trying to avoid another meltdown. You are hoping when you remind her Matt is coming, it will help her mood. You're a little jealous he is obviously her new favorite person, but also you are so happy for it. 

Your original idea of taking things slow has been adjusted based on her reaction. You wanted to start talking to her about family today and build her up to the idea of having a dad, then have Matt over so she starts that association. That obviously is not going to happen. 

You finish up your prep and start to assemble the lasagna, laying sheets of pasta down before adding sauce and cheese then repeating the process until the pan is full. You made a little extra, with the intention of sending Matt home with leftovers. He had mentioned in passing that he doesn't get to cook much and living off take out is not ideal. 

The baking pan gets put into the oven and the timer is set, then you aren't sure what to do with yourself. It will take about an hour and Matt is scheduled to arrive then. 

You could do some cleaning, but with how Minnie is, you don't want to set her off. You know when she gets like this, any little thing can trigger her, so the best you can come up with is scrolling your phone. 

Still, you want to be with your baby, so you make your way to the couch. You keep your voice just above a whisper, knowing she's been itching at her ears all day, "Mouse, can I sit with you on the couch?"

You know she heard you based on the way the blanket moves. It takes a moment before you hear a tiny 'okay'.

You tuck yourself into the opposite corner and take out your phone to bring up something to look at. As soon as you start scrolling your feed, the glowing blanket mound starts moving towards you and you are easily overtaken by it. Minnie gets herself into your lap, still hidden away, then flops against your chest. You can feel her tablet against your thigh and you're pretty sure Scooby is jammed into your stomach, but as long as she's good, you're good. 

You keep an eye on the time as you flick through your phone. A majority of the news sites you follow are filling your feed with stories about the explosion in Connecticut. An uneasiness fills your stomach when you see the word 'attack' being thrown around. The headlines say they have determined the destruction was intentional and not an accident, though no one has claimed responsibility. Tony Stark gave some sort of press conference, so his face is all over your phone. 

You don't need this today, so you switch over to browsing some online shops. Minnie is getting too big for her winter coat, so you definitely need to get her one before the weather changes and prices go up. You'll have to get her approval before you make a final purchase, but it's good to check what is in the market. 

About twenty minutes before you are due to take the lasagna out of the oven, Matt texts you to let you know he is on his way. You confirm that you got his message, then gently run a hand over the mound in your lap, "Hey, sweetie. Dinner is almost ready. Do you remember what I said about dinner tonight?"

The blanket gets tugged and moved until Minnie can poke just the top of her head out. She squints at you, like she is judging you, before mumbling out, "Mister Matt is coming?"

You give her a soft smile, trying to comfort her in any way you can, "That's right, baby, Mister Matt is going to come over and have dinner with us."

She squirms in your lap, before flopping herself forward again and declaring, "I want juice."

"Okay, sweetie." 

You manage to gather her, her blanket, her tablet, and some plushies into your arms and get Minnie on your hip to carry her to the kitchen. You're an expert at doing things one handed and it only takes you a minute to make up a sippy cup. Once that is in her little hands, you deposit her into her seat at the dining table. You let her keep her blanket and toys, setting up Scooby and Pig so they are in the seat next to her and her tablet is on the table in front of her. 

She is indeed playing a dress up game and as she nurses her juice, she looks at each dress option for the character she's dressing. As she does that, you start to set the table around her. You can tell that despite the cuddles and quiet, your Mouse is still in a grumpy mood. You really, really hope that Matt will help her smile a little. 

Once everything is set, you check on the lasagna. It smells and looks delicious to you, and you take the sheet tray out a little early so it can start to cool. That gets Minnie's attention, and you can see her watching you out of the corner of your eye. She's stuck her fingers in her mouth, sucking on them as her eyes follow you around the kitchen.

You are so busy watching Mouse watch you, you don't keep track of the time and when there is a soft knock at the front door, you jump. 

You scurry to answer, putting your hand over your heart and telling yourself to chill out. You know who it is and why they are here, and you don't need to panic over it. It's just Matt, you tell yourself.

It's just Matt. 

You open the door and your breath catches. 

It is just Matt, but Matt is Matt, and he makes your heart pound in a different way. 

He's come right from work, so he's in one of his crisp, fitted suits. His hair is fluffed up, like he's run his fingers through it too many times, and he's got that permanent five o'clock shadow. He looks like some GQ model, standing in your doorway. 

Embarrassment runs through you. You're not nearly as dressed up as he is. Even on his casual days, he looks so fashionable and cool, and you are wearing biker shorts and a black T-shirt. You look by no means raggedy, but maybe you should have changed. Just because Matt can't see what you are wearing doesn't mean you can be a slob. 

"Hi," you eventually choke out and Matt's face lights up. 

"Hey there," he says back, then he's holding up a bottle of wine and smiling so sweetly, "I thought I'd try contributing this time and I figured you might need a glass." 

You can't help but flush. Today has been rather long and a glass of wine sounds amazing. You don't drink often, but he is right and a glass to unwind sounds perfect. 

"You're a saint," you praise, and step aside so he can come in. "How was your day? Oh, you can put your jacket and bag to your left. There's hooks about chest level." 

Matt thanks you, then reaches out to feel the wall. He finds the hooks quickly, then hangs his saddle bag before starting to remove his coat, "it was good. We were able to wrap up a few smaller cases - sometimes it just takes someone getting a lawyer for others to cave and do the right thing. Cheaper to just do the right thing than get sued and having to do it anyways, plus all the pay outs and fees."

"That is good," you hum, very much meaning it. You're glad those people got the help they needed. "You mentioned having a handful of cases, so that frees up your plate a little bit, right?"

Matt laughs a little, smile still wide, "A little bit. It's a nice change of things - we aren't hurting for paying clients, so we are going to try to take on a few more pro-bono things. We're getting into a nice groove - or so Foggy claims. He's leading that charge - making sure we aren't over working ourselves."

"I'll have to send him a thank you card," you tease, surprising yourself with it. 

"He'd like that, he'd get to lord it over me," he replies. Then he turns to you and steps forward, reaching out and finding your arm. He ghosts his fingers up until he oh-so-gently wraps them around your bicep and steps forward until you're a breath away from each other and you have to look down at his chest, so you are not staring at your own reflection in his glasses. His voice drops to something quiet and intimate, and you can barely hear him through the pounding of your heart in your ears.

"I told them. About you. About Minnie."

You find yourself smiling at the news. That makes it more real, doesn't it? It isn't just the courts acknowledging Matt is Minnie's father - it's the real world. It's Matt wanting her - wanting to show the world he wants his daughter. 

That's all you want. 

You step just a fraction closer, and to keep your balance and let Matt know how close you are, you place your hand in Matt's chest. Almost instantly, his free hand goes to your waist, and you feel steady. 

You bite your bottom lip, then ask, your curiosity so much bigger than your ability to keep your mouth shut, "What did they say?"

He huffs and lightly shakes his head, "After yelling at me for keeping it a secret? They want to meet you, properly. If that is okay. I told them I'd ask you before confirming anything." He hums, then drops his voice even more, "Karen got me magnets so I could hang all the work I got up on my fridge at home." 

"You're going to need a lot of them," you whisper back to him. "I ordered popsicle sticks and puff balls so she can make 3D things." 

"I can't wait. Karen got me a bulk pack of magnets."

You giggle at that, but before you can reply, a needy little voice calls out from the dining table, "Mommy!"

You pull away from Matt, his fingers tracing down from your bicep to your wrist before he drops his hand, and turn to walk towards your daughter, "Yes, Mouse?"

"I'm hungry!" 

She's poked her head out from under the blanket and is now wearing it like a cape and her chubby little cheeks are pulled down into an upset frown. You have a feeling a tantrum may be close - there's nothing worse than a hangry toddler. 

You take a breath, then smile at your daughter, "Okay. Mister Matt is here so we can have dinner now. Do you want to tell him what we are having?"

Matt taps his way into the main living space, and you know you should give him a quick tour, but you think if you delay dinner at all, Minnie is going to start crying, so you tell him instead where the table is. 

Minnie doesn't seem to want to engage, stuffing her fingers back into her mouth. Luckily, Matt isn't dissuaded by that. He sets the wine bottle down before taking the seat across from Minnie. 

"It smells like we're going to have lasagna for dinner. Is that what we are having?" he asks, voice soft and gentle. 

Your little one rocks side to side, keeping her fingers in her mouth before nodding. Normally, you would remind her to use her words, but you don't want to push, so you relay her message to Matt, "She nodded."

Matt hums softly in response. He tilts his head slightly, brows knitting together, before leaning forward just a fraction, "Do you want us to leave you alone until you eat?"

You are surprised by the question then even more surprised when he gets the tiniest, 'yes' in reply. Matt's face softens at that, and he nods to Minnie.

"Okay. Can I still talk to your Mommy, or do you want us to be quiet, too?"

You stand, dish towel in your hands, ready to bring the lasagna to the table, watching your daughter interact with her father. He's being so gentle and understanding with her and you can tell he's being genuine. You can hear the care in his words, how he's giving her choice and not pushing her to talk to him. 

You'll gladly eat dinner in silence if Minnie doesn't want either of you to talk. You don't know how it will work, but you'll try. 

Your little one doesn't answer the question right away. She looks between you and Matt, before pulling her fingers out of her mouth to speak, "You can talk to Mommy."

"Thank you, sweetheart. We'll be quiet, okay?" Matt promises. 

You quickly parrot him, giving your own soft smile, "Thank you, baby. We'll keep it down." 

Minnie snuggles herself tighter into her blanket and you take that as a sign to get yourself into gear. You carefully pick up the lasagna pan and bring it over to the table, setting it as far as possible away from your little one. 

Matt tilts his head towards you, and the food, "That smells delicious. Did you make it yourself?"

You go back to the kitchen to get your serving utensils and answer in the softest voice you can muster that isn't whispering, "Thank you, I did. I found an all organic, from scratch recipe online and have been using it ever since. It's even fancy, way too expensive, cheese. I, uh, made extra. For you to take home, if you want."

Matt licks his lips, and you can tell he's trying to hold back a big smile. It makes your insides turn in a funny way - his kindness and appreciation. You are, as sad as it is, not used to such treatment and for whatever reason that, combined with Minnie's attitude, and Matt being in your apartment for the first time kick starts your anxiety. You are definitely very aware of your heartbeat, and it feels like someone dipped your heart into ice water before it disappears into a hollowness. 

This feeling isn't new to you, so you try to push past it, not let your sudden panic ruin things, because despite your little one's sourness, things are okay. You tell yourself things are okay. 

Your tiny bout of distress goes unnoticed, as it lasts the blink of an eye. Matt leans back in his chair, letting his smile start to crack through, "You didn't have to do that, but I will definitely take you up on it. I can't turn away a home cooked meal."

You force yourself to smile and cut out a slice of lasagna for Matt, before leaning over to place it on his plate, "Guests first."

"Thank you," Matt practically cooes, "I don't think I've been this excited for a dinner in a long time."

The praise does all sorts of things to you, so instead you focus on cutting out a little slice for Minnie and serving it to her. As soon as the food is in front of her, she stabs her fork into it and shovels a piece into her pouty mouth. You don't blame her at all.

"Would you like a glass of wine…?" You ask Matt. Minnie has her sippy juice, but you haven't set out any other drinks. 

He gives you a soft, "Yes, please," and you go to get the two wine glasses you have and a cork screw. You bring them back to the table and set down the glasses before going to open the wine. You haven't done it in such a long time it takes you a minute of struggling to pop it.  Matt turns his head towards you, a little grin on his face until you start pouring. 

You give Matt his drink, then finally make your own plate before sitting beside Matt. Minnie is still angrily stabbing at her dinner and you feel so bad for her. Even with her favorite dinner and good company, she's not having it. You expect when you put her down, either she'll try to fight you or be asleep the moment she touches the covers. You very much hope for the latter. 

Matt, on the other hand, looks completely enthralled with his plate. You can tell his eyes are closed and he's clearly enjoying what he's eating. 

You don't press for conversation - instead reaching for your wine. It's a deep red and delicious on your tongue and you can't remember the last time you've had a good wine. You can feel your shoulders starting to loosen. 

Which of course means, everything needs to come crashing down. 

One moment everything is okay, then the next, Minnie is absolutely screeching. Her face is screwed up in pain and you scramble to get out of your chair to get to her.

"Minnie! What's wrong?!" You try to ask her over her wailing. 

Instead of any sort of answer, she grabs for her fork, which is stabbed into her food, and throws it as hard as she can. You watch in horror as the fork and a large chunk of lasagna still attached to it flies over the table and smacks right into Matt's chest. Panic surges through you as he also bends forward and covers his ears with a distressed face, ignoring the food staining his shirt.

You try to grab Minnie from her booster, but she does not want it and instantly starts to try and fight you, flinging her arms and legs everywhere. 

"Minnie, please," you beg as she kicks you in the hip, "What's wrong, baby?!"

The only reply you get is upset screaming. 

"Cover her ears!" 

Matt is very suddenly beside you and clapping his hands over your baby's ears. She fights it, squirming to get away and smacking at his arms with all her might, but he doesn't budge. You stare, not understanding what is going on, what set her off, and you don't know how to help. 

You don't know how to help and that sinking feeling in your chest is returning and you're scared. 

Matt says your name again, then almost barks at you, "Her headphones! Get her headphones, the strongest ones!" 

You don't understand why but it's something you can help with, something you can do, and you rush to the bedroom and grab her sleeping headband. Minnie has always told you this one works the best, despite the reviews of the others. You run back to the dining area and nearly stumble upon what you see.

Matt has somehow gotten Minnie out of her booster seat and into his arms, and she is octopus clinging to him. Her face is pressed into his neck, one ear on his shoulder, while he keeps his hand clamped over the other. He's lightly bouncing her in his arm as she cries against him and part of you becomes extremely distressed at seeing someone else comfort your child. 

You push that away quickly to hurry forward and hold up the headband, "I've got it." 

Matt nods, then turns his focus back to Minnie. He noses her hair, and you can just barely hear him over her, "It's okay, baby, Mommy has your headband. We're gonna make it quiet. I know it hurts, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry."

You hesitate before stepping towards them. Minnie doesn't flail or pull away as you maneuver the headband and get it over both her ears. It feels so awkward to do as she cries and once it is on her head and over her ears, she reaches up and yanks on it until it is in place. Then she flops back down into the crook of Matt's neck, still crying but somehow not as urgently. 

You are unsure of what to do, but everything in you screams to touch your child, so you shuffle close to Matt until you can put a comforting hand on her back. 

"I'm right here, baby, it's okay," you whisper, gently rubbing a small circle along her spine. 

Matt shifts slightly, and the hand that was covering Minnie's ear drops and he instead wraps it around your waist and pulls you closer, so you are flush against him, with Minnie between the two of you. 

That seems to help with whatever has upset Minnie so much. She stays clinging to Matt while he oh so gently sways you back and forth. Her screeching dies down to tired-upset crying and you know she's going to keep going until she passes out. 

To your absolute amazement, Matt doesn't seem deterred at all. He keeps his nose buried into his daughter's hair, talking quietly to her as she sobs, "It's okay. Shhhh, shhh. Feel my heartbeat, sweetie. Focus on that. The bad noise will stop soon, I promise. Just listen to your Mommy and I." 

You have no idea what he is talking about - what the bad noise is - but it's calming Minnie down, so you let him keep going. You keep your hand on her back, gently doing your own 'shhh'ing, trying to encourage her to calm even more. 

"That's my good girl," Matt hums, before giving her the briefest kiss against her temple. "Do you want to go to Mommy now?" 

You don't hear Minnie respond, but she must in some way because soon enough she is being transferred into your arms. She clings to you loosely and you can feel her little body starting to droop. She must be close to wearing herself out.

She makes a little upset whine between her huffing and puffing, and you instantly take up gently bouncing her like Matt has been doing. Matt stays wrapped around both of you, taking over your role of rubbing Minnie's back. 

You don't know how long you stay there, curled together and soothing Minnie, both of you whispering little words of love and comfort to your daughter. 

You think you are past the worst of it, but of course that isn't the case.

Minnie starts squirming and fussing, reaching up and pressing at her ears over her headband. You look up to Matt, to see his reaction and your heart runs cold and fear spikes in you.

He looks absolutely murderous.

He's lifted his head and it is turned towards your living room, his brows scrunched and a scowl on his lips. You instinctively hug Minnie tight to you, but you quickly realize you have nothing to fear.

He stalks across your living room to your open window and yanks it shut. Right away, Minnie loops her arms back around your neck and settles with a sleepy sniffle. You press your face into her, rocking her a little more.

"I've got you, Mouse. It's okay. Mommy's right here."

You don't jump when Matt's hand brushes along your back and he once again wraps you in his arms. You allow yourself to turn ever so slightly and tuck yourself closer, lowering your head so it leans just barely against his shoulder, with Minnie hidden between your bodies.

You feel safe in that moment. You're confused why Minnie got so upset so suddenly and you're confused at how Matt knew how to handle it, but you feel safe, and even more so when Matt's arms tighten around you. 

"I've got you both," he practically breathes against you. "I won't let anything get you. I'm here now. I've got you." 

You close your eyes as the panic and adrenaline washes away from you and the exhaustion of your day starts to catch up to you. You very much understand how rubbing Minnie's back helps her sleep - Matt's started to drag his fingers up and down your spine and you know it could lull you into Dreamland.

Minnie's cries turn into sniffles and then quickly turn into quiet snores as the minutes pass.

You stay still until you are one hundred percent sure she's gone to the world before pulling back just slightly, and whisper, "I should go lay her down." 

Your face is so close to Matt's you can practically taste his breath and your heart starts to pound at the realization of it. 

You don't know if it is on account of your words or if he was also aware how tangled up the two of you were, but Matt drops his arms and steps away from you, nodding, "Yeah, she sounds pretty sleep now."

You chew your lip, not liking how your arms are suddenly chilly, but don't acknowledge it, "I'll be right back." 

You turn and grab Scooby and Pig, knowing another tantrum will happen if your daughter wakes up alone, and head towards the bedroom. It is surprisingly easy to get her to let go of you and you deposit Minnie into her bed. You place her toys beside her and tuck her in, careful to not jostle her. You dare to kiss her forehead before pulling away. 

As you turn to leave your bedroom, your window catches your eye. It is closed, but in front of it is a little table. 

Just like in your living room. There is a table under the window, with more than a few knick knacks on it. 

Your brow furrows and you return to the main living area. Matt has found his way back to the table and is drinking his glass of wine. 

"Is she good?" He asks, setting down his glass and turning to face you. 

"She didn't wake up at all, I think she's down for the count," you say, glancing towards where your window is before looking back to Matt. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," is his instant reply. You take a moment to look him over, from his fluffy hair, to the tomato sauce now on his shirt, to his fancy loafers, before returning to his handsome face.

"Matt…how did you know where the window is?"

tags list:

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@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium @

two-unbeatable-beaters 

[satorusugurugurl]

I Think He Knows: (Chapter Two)

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he possibly tell you how he feels when you’re leaving him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x FAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,065

Warning: Language, suggestiveness, grinding, neck kisses 🥴 wet dream, making out

A/N: I loved this got me all hot with several parts. Ugh, I fucking love Geto!!! If you want to be on the tag list you MUST have your age in bio!!

Part One Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven

The alcohol must have gone to your brain. Or maybe it was laced with something! Could alcohol expire? Because there was no way, no way in hell, you heard Suguru correctly.

“I'm sorry.” The smell of earthy musk and mint twists around you like tendrils. “I think I misheard you. Could you repeat that?”

Suguru places his hand flat against the wall next to your head, leaning in closer, his breath teasing your lips. “You heard me loud and clear. I offered to teach you.” Both of you are breathing heavily as your eyes dart from hungry gaze back to his lips.

“I-Is this a joke? Did Satoru put you up to this?”

Your blatant dismissal of his proposal almost hurts. Were you just not into him the same way he was into you? Or were you just shy? There was a possibility that you weren’t sure how to act in a situation like this. Suguru would not manipulate or push you into doing anything you didn’t want. Regardless of how he felt, you’re still his best friend. He didn’t want to ruin your friendship.

“No one put me up to it. This is me, wholeheartedly offering to help you out.”

“T-This is sudden, and you’re drunk.”

Suguru can see a look in your eyes. The subtle way your eyes dart from his eyes to his lips. How you shift your legs, and how your breath comes as heavy exhales against his mouth. You smell like sweet fruit with a twinge of alcohol. He can only imagine how good it would taste if it smelled this good. God, he wants to taste you so fucking back. And from all the ways your body moves, it seems you might like it too. But he wasn’t going to force it on you.

“I’m not drunk, but if you are, we can put a pin in this conversation until later.”

Your fingers grasp his shirt, gently playing with the fabric. He wonders what’s going through that pretty little head of yours. You hadn’t rejected the idea of kissing him, but you hadn’t said yes. He didn’t know that you were buzzed and currently contemplating what you wanted to do.

Having your first kiss in a dark alley with your best friend was tempting. You’d always imagined what it would be like to be kissed. In all the movies and books you’ve read, people make it out to be this extravagant thing. It’s a mind-blowing experience; it could make or break a relationship, which is why you were so hesitant.

Was Suguru offering to ‘help’ you, or was he wanting to lose himself?

Whenever he had nightmares about Riko, he did one of three things. One, he’d throw himself into his art, forgetting to eat while he painted his feelings out. Two, he would find some girl at the bar, take her home and fuck her stupid. The third option was that he’d shut in on himself and ignore calls and texts until you had to intervene, but he hadn’t done that in a couple of years.

Knowing the state that he was in, you were uncertain if he was offering to ‘help’ with research or if he was seeing you as a girl to take home and lose himself in. The alcohol and warmth of an early summer night weren’t helping the situation. You needed to think about this clearly, but he was complicating it.

His mouth was so close; the smell of sake and the mint gum had you melting, inching closer. It was just for research; one kiss wouldn’t hurt, would it? It might help you with your writing; god, just having him so close his hands on either side of your head against the wall, how good he smelt, it had your brain buzzing with inspiration.

“You smell really good.” The breathless words that leave your mouth have Suguru shuddering. “Like really good.”

“Yeah? You smell good, too.” His head is no longer facing you. Instead, his face is in the crook of your neck, and he inhales, taking in your scent. “So good you make me dizzy.”

“O-Ooh.”

Suguru’s eyes are focused on your soft, delicate skin, and then he does something that will probably cross the line, a line that he’s so desperately wanted to run across. His lips gently against your neck, a jolt of warmth between your legs. The tiniest gasp sounds from your mouth, but Suguru notices it’s not a sound of apprehension or displeasure. No, that tiny gasp was one he had heard from several of his past partners. Hearing it leave, other girls had clued him that they were feeling good. Perhaps they might want to take it further.

But hearing it come from you.

The self-control it took for him not to slam his lips against yours at that moment was wavering. He wanted to stay strong, and he had to do it for you and your friendship. By some miracle, he managed to pull himself away from your neck, giving him a chance to take you in.

Your lips were slightly parted, and your chest heaved with the heavy pants escaping you. Seeing you like this in a new light, fuck, this was so intense. Suguru’s lips inched closer, almost touching yours as his breathing quickened to meet yours.

“What do you want.”

“I-I want—” You gulped, gripping his shirt tighter, “I want to—“

“Yo, Suguru!” The side door to the alley opened, and Satoru popped his head out. “Nanami and Shoko just got cut off; they’re ready to go—ooh, oh shit.”

His annoying blue eyes glanced over the two of you. You were pinned against the wall, trapped by his best friend, while Suguru was inches from your face. His sudden appearance had Suguru grumbling in annoyance and you a stuttering mess. The fingers that so delicately held onto Suguru pushed him back, freeing you from his larger frame.

“T-They’re ready to go!?” Your voice was too high as you tried to play it cool but failed miserably. “Great! Let me go wash up real quick!”

Suguru watched as you ran back inside, shoulder-chucking Satoru in the process. His other best friend followed you with his eyes, only stepping out into the alleyway until he lost you in the crowd. When he looked at Suguru, he chuckled nervously. He witnessed him gently bumping his head against the wall.

He could have done that forever if it wasn’t for his friend's hand gently grabbing his shoulder. “Sorry, man, if I knew you two were getting handsy back here, I wouldn’t have barged in like I did.” Suguru exhaled through his nose, letting out all the pent-up frustration that encouraged him to beat the shit out of Satoru.

“Nah, it’s fine; we weren’t even doing anything.”

“Well, we have very different ideas of ‘anything’. Having her caged in by your body, lips inches from each other, did not look at all like anything. That looked like you were finally making a move!”

“A move that you fucked up.” He scrubbed a hand down his face.

“So you’re mad—great uhm—I’m going to wrangle up Nanamin and Shoko.”

While Suguru stood in the alley, trying to calm the almost murderous rage that boiled in his chest, you were splashing water on your face in the bathroom and ignoring the knocks from drunk women outside as you rang your fingers over your lips. The heat of his breath still lingers there, aching to have felt him against you. You found yourself imagining what yanking your best friend in and kissing him would have felt like.

Just imagining it had your body all tingly. Your heart felt as if it had run a marathon. All of these sensations were new and strange, and you liked it. There was excitement about how close Suguru was and how he’d almost kissed you and your neck. Your fingers ran over that spot, trying to imagine what several kisses against your surprisingly oversensitive kin would feel like. One kiss alone had heat pooling between your legs.

Getting turned on by reading books, fanfics, or movies was something you were familiar with. Another thing was getting turned on by another living human, your childhood best friend! Books could only go so far, to actually feel the warmth of another person, one you were familiar with; it had goosebumps rising against your skin.

You could lose yourself thinking about what could have been and how things would have gone down if Satoru hadn’t interrupted you. Would you have let him kiss you? Let his lips, which looked so soft, brush against yours for research? Or would you have chickened out? Several scenarios could have gone down, but you would never know because your dumbass friend had interrupted you both.

Now that you were sobering up, would you even be able to let a situation like that happen again without completely freaking out? Suguru had said he wanted to help improve your romance scenes. But what was it you were so nervous about? Was it just because of the fact you were a virgin? Or was it because Suguru was your friend, and you didn’t want to ruin that? It was most likely a combination of both.

Several things could have happened, and you could stand in the bathroom imagining different outcomes, but that wouldn’t help. The best thing to do was to sober up entirely and process about what the fuck had just happened. You could decide what to do once you wrap your head around it.

Either allow Suguru to teach you things or try to improve your writing on your own.

After several minutes of clearing your head, you left the bathroom, ignoring the glares from the women in line. Suguru was waiting for you at the table where you’d been. Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you waited to see if things were awkward or weird between you.

Much to your relief, he just smiled as you joined his side. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

Things were strangely normal as you and the group crowded in Satoru’s car. The music blasted as Satoru drove to a drive-thru for ice cream. Satoru and Shoko sat in the front, followed by Haibara and Nanami, while you and Suguru sat in the back. Your hands rested near each other, maybe an inch apart.

With the music blaring and the drunken conversations yapping, now might be a good time to talk to Suguru about the almost alley kiss. Turning your head so you could face him, you watched his eyes struggling to stay open. He shut them before shaking his head, trying to keep them open before they ultimately shut again. The nightmares Suguru suffered were the worst. They felt so lifelike, putting him back in his second year, right before the accident. So when he had them, he had issues falling asleep, which was why he’d been up since three.

While the kiss that almost happened was eating you up, begging to be discussed, to happen, Suguru was far more important. You gently eased his head down, allowing him to rest it on your shoulder. He hummed softly, a tired sound of approval or an incoherent thanks before he rubbed his face against you. You rested your head against him, staring forward at the cars in front of you.

But your attention is quickly drawn back to the seat between you as Suguru hooks his pinky around yours as he falls asleep. You could have easily pulled away, freeing yourself from his loose grip, but you twisted his finger around his. That simple gesture resulted in Suguru humming happily.

While he relaxed, you felt tense. Here you were, being a pillow for your best friend after he offered to teach you things. Now, you acted casually with each other as if everything was normal. Was he waiting for you to mention it, or was it that he was just so overcome by exhaustion that he was waiting until later when there were no remains of alcohol in your system?

You should’ve been thinking about what you wanted to do yourself, whether that was allowing him to teach you things or to remain friends. But the warmth of his pinky wrapped around yours and the slow, shallow breasts that escaped him had your eyes feeling oh so heavy. You blinked hard, trying to stay awake, but you were a goner once you rested your head fully against his.

Your dreams whisked you off to the world you had built in your mind. A mystical kingdom full of magic and wonder. You found yourself wandering the village square, looking at vendors, before you were suddenly yanked into an alley, much like the one Suguru had pulled you down.

“Oaklynn.” The man with a hooded cloak, most likely Ilsan, your main male protagonist, whispered.

“What’s wrong, Ilsan? Is there danger? One of the Reverians?” You glanced towards the bustling street you had just left, watching people walk by.

Suddenly, his hand's cage around your head, drawing your attention to the knight. “No, there’s no danger.” His voice is smooth and rich, making you shiver as he pulls in closer.

“Then what is it?”

The knight leans forward, pressing a hot kiss against your neck. The sudden sensation leaves you gasping, your back arching off the stone wall. “You just looked so delectable.” His breaths out, knocking your legs apart with his foot. “I just had to taste you, please, princess.” You surprisingly oblige, spreading your legs wide, allowing him to bunch up your gown in his hands, pooling the fabric around your hips.

“I-Ilsan,” his hips attached to your neck, “oh my gods~!” His lips suck, his teeth nip at your sensitive skin, leaving you feeling weak and hot. “Ilsan.”

“Oak,” his knee suddenly slides between your spread legs, pressing firmly against your clothed cunt. “Huh~ look at that.” He rubs his knee back and forth over your sex. Making you cry out, only to have him clamp his hand firmly over your mouth. “Soaking wet~ how shameless my princess.”

You whimper against his palm, which is so warm and smells like earthy musk. Your hips roll, dragging your clit perfectly over his thigh. It feels so good; your pussy is hot, so hot it feels like it’s on fire. You arch, rolling faster and faster.

“You're so wet I can feel you through my pants.” The cloaked man licks at your pulse, nipping it gently. “I can help you~ teach you how to feel this good~.”

His voice you know his voice. The character in front of you pulls away, allowing you to push the hood of his cloak back. The man with his knee between your thighs was not the auburn-haired Ilsan with emerald eyes. No, it’s long black hair in a bun, the rest cascading down your best friend's back. His dark eyes darken as you roll your hips against him.

“Princess,” he grunts, “you feel so good. Let me touch you. I wanna make you cum~.”

“S-Sugu~ oooh fuck!” You cry out, tilting your head back. “I-I’m gonna~ gonna~!”

“Yes~ cum for me, baby~ cum all over my thigh~”

“I-I’m cu—!!”

Your eyes open, and you gasp. Your hips stop rocking against the pillow you’re hugging. Your shorts are wet, so fuckin wet, leaving you confused as you slowly sit up in bed that’s not yours. Confusion doesn’t even have a chance to settle in as the bedroom door flies open.

Suguru stood there, chest heaving as he looked around, searching the room. “What happened?! What’s wrong?!” He turns the light on; his hair is damp, still wet from a shower.

“S-Suguru, wait, why—” Glancing around the room, hung up with different paintings and photos, you came to the harsh realization that you were not in your apartment. You were in Suguru’s. So that meant the pillow you were rocking against was his.

“I heard you groaning and moaning.” He relaxed once he realized you weren’t in any danger. “I thought something was wrong.”

“I-I’m fine!”

“Are you sure? You’re flushed.”

“Yep, just fine!!” He tilted his head, dark strands of hair falling over his shoulder. “Yep! Well! Uhm, why am I here?!”

Suguru rubbed his neck, darting his gaze towards the wall. “Well, we both fell asleep in the back seat. Satoru woke me up with his stupid flash from his cell phone when he dropped us off. I was so out of it and carrying you that I forgot to grab your purse and keys.” You already saw where this was going. “So I figured I’d let you sleep in my bed while I took the couch. Are you sure you’re okay, princess?” Suguru watched you stiffen, pulling the sheets up to cover your hips.

“Mhmm, yep, never better.”

“Is that why you’re stiff as a board?”

Damn, his perspective gaze. “Yep, uhm, I just—”You were wet, and you were almost certain there was a wet spot on the pillow between your legs. If he were to see that, you might die of embarrassment. “Had a dream,” Suguru observed the way you sat. Your face was flushed, your pulse raced in your throat, and you were panting slightly.

“Uh-huh,” he grinned, “a wet dream? Want me to grab a pen and notebook so you can take some notes?”

“What?! No! I didn’t have a wet dream!” Suguru barked out a laugh as you failed to convince him otherwise. “A-And I wouldn’t need a pen and paper! I don’t hardly remember it!”

“So it was a wet dream.”

You grumbled, covering your face with your hands; there was no point in lying now. “I hate you sometimes.” Suguru laughed softly, shaking his head as he sat on the bed before you.

“Nah, you love me.” You both chuckle as he plays with the sheet on your lap.

The gentle caress of his fingers has you thinking back to the alley and how gentle he was, how he had asked what you wanted. In the heat of the moment, you weren’t so sure how to reiterate what it was you. From the suddenness of his actions to the alcohol that was making you dizzy. Now that you were sitting in his bed with him across from you, what you wanted was clear.

It made sense, from your reaction in the bathroom to how badly your body reacted to being near him. Even your dreams all pointed in the direction that your subconscious wanted to go. Two years in Europe was a long time. And while you desperately wanted to see the sights and improve your writing, being away from all your friends and family for that long would be unbearable if there was a chance that your best friend helping you with your romance scenes would allow you to stay in Japan.

What was the harm in trying?

You placed your hand on him, Preventing him from moving his fingers over the sheets further. “You okay?” He asked, taking in the flashed look on your face. “I was just teasing. Everybody has wet dreams sometimes. If you made a mess, I don’t mind. I can easily change my sheets.” Suguru expected you to playfully smack him on the cheek or punch him in the arm. Instead of doing either of those things, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I was thinking about your offer. You know how to teach me stuff.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, and seeing that I’m not buzzed anymore, I finally decided what I wanted.”

“And what is it that you want?” He inched in closer, crowding you against the headboard of his bed.

You spread your legs wide, allowing him to sit between them. “I want to improve my writing. I don’t want to be gone for a whole two years.” Suguru just nodded as you spoke. “And I don’t want to go out and fool around with anybody. I would rather learn these kinds of things from somebody that I know and trust.” You grip the fabric of his t-shirt.

“So, you’re going to take me up on my offer? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“So, I have your permission to kiss you? I think that’s the best way to start this off. Seeing that you’ve never been kissed before.” All you did was nod your head, and his hands cupped your face instantly. “If you want to stop, just tell me.”

A final nod was all of the consent he needed. He leaned in and gently pressed his lips against yours. They're warm and soft, and you press your face against him. Pulling back just an inch once he smiles against you

“What?” You ask, your grip tightening on his shirt.

“Nothing, I just—I’m happy to finally,” he sighs, “to finally help you with your book, is all.” Suguru exhales against your mouth, mint toothpaste still fresh on his breath. “Now that the first peck is out of the way, let me give you a real kiss.”

“A rea—mph!”

His lips are against yours in a heated kiss. Once, that was full of passion and fire. The smell of mint intensifies as his tongue flakes out against your bottom lip. He was asking politely for entrance. You release the gentle grip on his shirt to wrap your arm around his neck as you allow him entrance into your mouth. His tongue gently moves against yours and his symphony of minty flavor. He’s pressing himself harder against you, caging you in against the headboard.

Your tongue moves hesitantly against his, and your movements are gentle and unsure. The sheer innocence has Suguru groaning into your mouth. Hearing sounds like that escape him has your pussy throbbing in delight. You moan back, and Suguru deepens the kiss now that he knows you’re into it. He places a hand on your hip while the other gently cups the back of your head, pressing your mouth tighter against his.

Kissing was a lot of fun. The way your mom’s mailed it together, eagerly exploring each other with your tongues, how do you tingle in all the right places? There was no way kissing like this. This couldn't get any better. But it does when he presses his knee between your legs gently against your clothes core. The sudden sensation of his knee firmly pressing against you was way better than your dream.

You shiver in both excitement and hesitation. That shivering has Suguru breaking the heated kiss. “You good? Need to stop?”

“N-No, I just.”

“You just what?”

“It reminds me about the dream I had.”

“The not a wet dream, dream?”

If he weren’t so goddamn hot right now, you would’ve walked out. “Yes, that dream.” Suguru hums, trailing his lips down your neck.

“Do you want to try what you were doing in your dream?” Your best friend is fully anticipating for you to say no. That all you wanted to do was continue to kiss.

“Yes.” That is the last thing he expected you to say.

Tag List (TO BE ADDED AGE MUST BE IN BIO)

@lemonintrovert01 @spankmydepression @renttheannihilator @witchbybirth @missmuffinr @lialia3945

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks s

[jen-with-a-pen]

Dancing in the Kitchen

summary: After the worst night imaginable, your best friend helps you when you need him most. What you don't realize is just how much you've always needed him. or: Tony Dumps you. Steve picks you up and puts you back together.

parings: protective!best friend!Steve Rogers x best friend!f!Reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: fluff, angst, self-doubt and insecurity, verbally abusive relationship elements, insults + language/name calling, reader cusses and so does Steve bc he can, no smut!, wearing Steve's clothes (very little to no description about reader's body so do with that what you will), intense feelings, confessions, crying, anxiety, best friends to lovers, intimate touch, VERY SLIGHT possessiveness, protectiveness, not Tony Stark friendly, cap quartet mention

a/n: these characters are out of college! It's set in their early-mid 20s following graduating and I thought it'd be a little more relatable (also since I'm not in college anymore I wanted this specific fic concept to be more relatable. self-indulgence and stuff). the cap quartet rent a house together. there might be more shenanigans in the future involving them. maybe. who knows? enjoy <3

If I've missed any tags, please let me know!

gif by @annislittleshopofhorrors | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Everything was cold. 

Everything was ruined.

Everything was a fucking nightmare.

Dark clouds shrouded the night sky, hiding helpful moonlight. Rain pelted at you from above, mixing with fresh tears, drenching you to the bone as cold water collected on your skin and soaked through your dress. Your hands morphed into balled fists at your sides as you shook with rage, heartbreak, and the innate need to punch something.

You couldn’t wrap your pounding head around the events of the night; everything blurred together after ten o’clock. It was like a cruel joke, one where you waited an eternity for the punchline, begging for it not to be real no matter how hard you screwed your eyes shut and prayed. 

You didn’t want to believe it, yet there you were.

It sure as hell wasn’t the first time you found yourself standing at the backdoor of Steve Roger’s house on the cusp of a breakdown– and a breakup– warring with your own body to simply knock on the fucking door. Hell, Steve was already expecting you. He knew something was wrong the second you called; there wasn’t a warning text, just you, asking in a choked-up whisper if he was home. His response spilled out in a rushed ‘yes’ before you could explain further. A ‘no questions asked’ request, something not uncommon in your friendship. Steve, since day one, was one of your main sources of comfort within a thousand mile radius. 

Now, he was your only source of comfort within a thousand mile radius. 

Remnants of the phone call from Tony only minutes earlier echoed in your eardrums like a bad case of tinnitus. Annoying, repetitive. His hoarse, drunken slurry of vicious words clawed at the inside of your skull. Another fight. Another screaming match. Another forgotten birthday– this time, it included meeting your family. You’d planned it for months prior, making sure Tony knew not to forget it.

Your insides were twisting in knots as you waited at the restaurant awkwardly with your parents, brother, and an empty seat next to you. After an hour, eight failed calls and fifteen texts later, Tony finally picked up. Delight revived the few butterflies left in your stomach, only to be crushed, turning them into weighted dread as loud club music obliterated your ear drum as he shouted at you. 

“You bitch!” he spat. “Why the ever-loving f-fuck are y’blowin’ up my phone for?!”

You didn’t have time to process what he was saying before he’d already reloaded and shot you with more.

“What the hell is sooooo important? Huh? Y-you stupid bitch! You fuckin’ knew I’m busy t’night!”

You tore the phone away. Even at arm’s length, you, and the rest of your family, could hear every single thing he spewed at you. A couple from the table next to yours stopped mid-bite to turn and throw rude looks at you and your family.

“Tony, please, I–” 

“‘Tony please’– just shut up!” he mocked. “Just shut the fuck up! I don’t fuckin’ care what you gotta– what you have t’say! I can’t f–fuckin’ stand you anymore!”

Hurt and hunger morphed into churning waves of anxiety and embarrassment. Your throat was closing. Tears began stinging your eyes. You looked between your parents in shame, meeting their stunned looks filled with pity and disappointment. Your brother refused to look anywhere but the spot on his plate where he played with his food, sadness and second-hand embarrassment plaguing his face.

Yelling, jeering, and chanting echoed out of your phone. Tony didn’t stop. 

“Y’know what? I’m not doin’ this anymore,” he slurred, gulping some unknown liquid down, swallowing, gagging. More cheering. “We– we’re fuckin’ done. You’re out. I’m done.”

The other line fumbled. You winced as you heard Tony wet his lips, preparing the final blow. His breathing became heavy, ragged, hard enough you could smell the liquor through the phone.

“Fuckin’ cunt.” 

Click.

You loathed yourself for tolerating him; the endless cycle of poisoning you, providing the antidote, and taking it away when it seemed to get better. The whiplash from his unpredictable moods and personal attacks on you hurt as bad as it felt when he’d come around with endless apologies– accompanied by flowers, cuddles, and kisses– to heal each wound he was responsible for. 

This time, though, the stab was fatal. This time, you bled out; it’d been akin to getting gutted and hung helplessly in front of your fucking family. 

A sob snuck its way up your throat. You choked it down, willing your fist to reach up and knock on the door. You didn’t understand why this was next to impossible. Steve was your best friend. It wasn’t like he was a stranger. It wasn’t like he’d chastise you or yell at you or tell you to fuck off. Yet, there was a fear, deep down, feeding on the anxiety and self-doubt in the pit of your stomach, telling you the opposite; it whispered to you, telling you to run back to your car, scream into the steering wheel, and speed off to disappear from everything and everyone for just a little longer. It’d only be until you got your head on straight, until you figured out what to do with the apartment and your classes and your stuff and–

Knock. knock. knock.

In the blur of a million thoughts racing through your mind, you automatically reached up and weakly knocked, body tensing every muscle as you waited.

The door swung open, revealing one extremely concerned Steve Rogers.

Steve panted, a result from sprinting down the stairs from his upstairs bedroom in an attempt to open the back door by your first knock. Acutely aware of his jaw hanging from its hinges, Steve’s soft baby blues bore into you, scanning you up and down, stunned at you and your dress and how desperate you looked. 

Time stopped the second you saw him; it was difficult to describe, but everything magnetizing between the two of you was different. You felt different– different in the way he was familiar and somehow new at the same time. Steve felt different– different in the way you were single for the first time in two years and he was single since… forever ago.

This time was unlike the million other times.

You both stared. Your lips quivered, his parted in disbelief. Both your minds instantly went blank, unable to think of anything to say, to do. So, the sky thought for you. It opened its floodgates, releasing a torrential downpour as you stood inches from warmth, from comfort.

“Steve,” you croaked, reaching for him. 

It was then, everything came crashing down. 

You crumbled to the ground in a heap, knees buckling while your hand and arms braced for impact with the ground. Steve quickly abandoned his tight grip on the doorframe, catching you, helping you inside. Lungs gasped for air as heavy sobs poured from your chest and tears flowed steadily down your face. You pawed at Steve’s arm hooked around you as he stumbled back into the house, kicking the door closed and collapsing onto the kitchen floor with you in tow. He immediately pulled you closer and hugged you tightly against his chest. You heaved, crying out from the painful pit in your heart, digging your fingers into his flesh, hard enough to bruise. You buried your face into his t-shirt and bawled.

All of it– the rage, the hurt, the mess of balled-up emotions from the last two fucking years– came unraveled. Hands twisted into Steve’s t-shirt, balling the fabric and pulling it taut enough to rip. 

Steve didn’t shout. He didn’t complain. He didn’t utter a single word as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets, rocking you gently, squeezing you harder as his chest rose and fell rhythmically against your pounding skull, silently coaxing you to follow his breathing. Blubbering in his lap, stringing words together became futile as thoughts became unrecognizable. Another wave of panic and anxiety crashed over you. Steve’s mumbled shushes softened you; the deep timbre and honeyed bass of his voice and vibrations in his chest grounded you, welcoming you to safety. To home. 

“Shh… don’t worry, I got you. I have you. You’re okay,” he muttered, running a hand gently up and down your back.

“I–he–bu–” you fumbled, lip quivering as another sob overtook you. Rage clawed at the walls in the chasm of your chest. You screamed. Guttural, pained. Again. And again.

“Shh… it’s okay, let it out. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” he soothed, rocking you, adding in a lowered octave, “I’m here.”

“T–Tony,” you hiccuped, fists twisting more of Steve’s t-shirt. “He–he–”

“What, angel? What about Tony?” 

“He–he c–called me n–names a–and,” you shook your head violently, “he b-broke up with me. For real, this time.”

Steve cupped your cheek, softly wiping away fresh tears with calloused fingertips. While you continued to cry in his arms, his focus turned to the back door you tumbled through. Inside, he seethed; his rage nearly boiled over at the thought of anyone doing this to you, let alone Tony fucking Stark. Out of all the things you’d told him over the last couple years– all the threats, the cruel jokes and abandonment and insults– tonight was the ultimate cherry on top. It validated every time Tony’s actions made Steve think vengeful thoughts on what he’d do if he ever got five minutes with the douchebag. Just five minutes. Alone. 

He shook the thought away, looking back down to you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him upset, let alone remotely think you were the cause of it. He’d promised himself that the first time you met.

Tony was going to fucking pay for what he’d done to you every single second for the last two years. And on your birthday, for chrissake. 

“What–” Steve swallowed the excess rage in his chest. “What kind of names, sweetie?”

You softened, sniffling, refusing to look at him. “He called me a b–bitch, a–and,” you bit your tongue, “a… cunt.”

The moment the word left your lips, Steve fought every last nerve in him not to put you to bed, get in his car, and go teach Tony a lesson on some fucking manners. Hell, even the idea of taking Bucky and Sam crossed his mind. 

He pushed the thought away, focusing back on you. You needed him. You came to him for help. No one else but him. 

Steve slid his hand off your back and placed it under your chin, thumb and forefinger gently coaxing you to look at him. Big blue eyes swam with concern and worry. In the dark of the kitchen, they seemed brighter than ever– a beacon guiding you back from the hurricane in your head.

In an instant, everything in your head went quiet. No more muffled echoes from the phone call. No more sobs readying to burst out your chest. No more caring about how swollen and puffy your eyes were, or the drying combination of mascara and tear stains running down your cheeks and neck. Your sopping wet dress that drenched the floor, and Steve, was pushed to the back of your brain, the cold no longer leaking into your bones as he brought you back down from the ledge.

All you saw was Steve. All you smelled, all you could feel, was Steve. 

Steve swallowed. His jaw slacked, tongue jutting out to wet his lips, slowly drinking you in for as long as he was able. 

And honestly? You couldn’t care enough to stop him. It’d been so long since someone looked at you the way Steve did.

Had he always looked at you like that?

“Listen to me. You are none of those things. Not even close,” he whispered, hoping you believed him. 

You nodded lightly. “I–I know, but it hurts,” your voice cracked again, eyes drifting away from him. 

“Hey, look at me,” he tugged at your chin, “you will never be anything like he says you are. Ever. Okay?”

You stared at him. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you placed a hand on his, taking it from your chin to your chest. Warmth bloomed as it rested against your damp skin. 

“‘Kay.” Barely a whisper. Enough for only him to hear.

He paused, gaze holding steady on you, lips twitching at the corners. 

“Let’s get you up ‘n out of that thing, yeah?” He nodded to your dress. “You gotta be freezing.”

Gently, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the kitchen floor and pulling you up on your feet. Your legs felt like a wobbly blend of jelly and nerves that forced you to lean onto Steve for support. He anticipated this, catching you and gripping your shoulders. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you clung to him as he guided you through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. You passed by Sam and Bucky’s rooms, both empty for the night, just like Natasha’s downstairs. 

As Steve rifled through his drawers and closet, your focus wandered to his messy desk: the lamp cast a soft, warm glow across the room, sitting next to history books and sketchbooks stacked high on top of one another; pencils and dirtied paint brushes littered the surface, products of his latest art assignment. His bed was half-made, dark green covers on one side neatly tucked in while the opposite was thrown aside, exposing gray pinstripe sheets. The walls were covered with scattered art– some his, others his favorite artists’– posters and pictures of family, friends, and some local bands. You bit back a smile. Memories of the shows you both went to over the last few years played like a highlight reel in your mind. You never regretted it; you never passed up a single invite, even after the time Tony locked you out for a whole weekend. 

“Here, these are clean,” he handed you a neatly folded pile of his clothes before adding, “I promise.”

A fuller smile broke across your face. The first of the entire night.

“Uh huh, sure, I believe you,” you joked sarcastically. He feigned hurt, scoffing at your false accusation.

“I did the sniff test, if that makes you feel any better.”

You giggled, taking the clothes from him and turning to head to the bathroom.

“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” he called after you. “You, um, you want something to drink?”

You paused, turning to look at him from the bathroom doorway halfway down the hall. From where he stood, the saturated pink creeping up his neck and reaching his face was more visible than the light on his desk. You couldn’t help but hold in a snicker and flash him a relieved smile, thankful.

“Coffee would be a godsend, right now.”

Steve smiled, saluting you. “Coming right up.”

You headed into the bathroom, tossing the clothes onto the counter, slumping against the door the second you shut and locked it. Finally relaxing, you realized how much tension was pent up in your tired shoulders– which, in turn, prompted the realization you were holding your breath the entire time in Steve’s room. 

Brushing the self-induced lightheadedness, you slipped the ruined dress off your body and hung it up on the shower rod. You hated the color, the texture, but wore it anyway. For Tony. On your birthday.

You cursed yourself, pulling your bra off next– a pushup that held your rib cage hostage the entire night. Just how Tony likes it. 

Or, liked it.

You silently prayed Steve included some Bailey’s in your coffee. 

Pulling on Steve’s sweatshirt, the scent of him enveloped you instantly. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the neck of it, filling your lungs with the familiarity of Steve. He was a quiet, sunny Sunday morning and freshly brewed coffee. He was a nice night in watching your favorite movies and playing cards. 

Your head was swimming, swirling, caught up in the entirety of your best friend. He was yours just as much as you were his. Through Tony, through other guys you’d subjected yourself to the last few years, none of them compared to Steve. 

You tugged the sweatpants on, catching sight of yourself in the mirror and realizing the runny makeup staining your face. You snorted at how fucking ridiculous you looked, remembering the caked-on layers you’d put on for the evening. Again, just for Tony. The snort turned into a giggle, utterly grateful for Steve not making fun of how you looked and for ignoring the mascara stains on his poor t-shirt from earlier.

But, again, it was Steve. He’d never make fun of you. Ever.

Butterflies– the ones you’d thought were long gone months prior– stuttered suddenly, alive and fluttering in your stomach. 

You instantly recognized the feeling: it was the same you had the day you met Steve.

The same feeling you’d get on roller coasters, or reading an exceptionally good romance novel. Giddiness, dizziness. It was as if you were spinning while the room stood still. Your head felt light, high on helium. Your skin burned. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you scanned yourself, the question ‘is this happening right now?’ running on a loop at the forefront of your mind. 

Bzzt.

You jumped at the buzz of a text. With the trance broken, you took into account your shaking hands and the bumping tempo of your heart. Turning on the sink, you made sure the water was as cold as possible before cupping some in your hands and splashing your face. Refreshing. Needed. You rubbed the rest of the runny wakeup off your skin, stuffing your face into the fluffy hand towel and silently promising to get the boys a new one. Picking up your phone, teeth chewed on cheek to hold in your smile at the sight of Steve’s name on the screen.

⍟ Steve: You doing OK? Coffees ready 

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You got this,” you told your reflection. “He’s only your best friend.”

The butterflies continued to multiply, bumping against one another, fluttering and escaping out into your chest and your limbs. 

“Fuck.”

You opened the door. 

⋆˙ઇଓ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“I was beginning to think you climbed out the window up there,” Steve quipped upon seeing you round the corner into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across his face when he saw you in his clothes. You looked more relaxed, more comfortable.

More like you. 

You noticed he changed, too, donning a heather-gray t-shirt that clung to his torso in all the right ways– ways you hadn’t noticed before.

You mentally scolded yourself.

“A–Almost. But I’d never pass up a cup of world-famous Rogers Roast.”

“Wow, world-famous? I would’ve preferred universally-renowned, but I’ll take it.” He held a mug out to you, one faded with a ‘I ❤ New York’ logo– the one you’d gotten for him during your senior-year college internship. “Made it just how you like it.” 

He paused as you took a sip. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you, biting his lip in anticipation as you drank. The coffee tasted like liquid gold, warm and comforting and all-around delicious. You didn’t care if you burnt your tongue. This was what you needed. 

He was what you needed. 

Was he?

You looked back up at Steve. His cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips together, entranced with the mug in your hands, eyes ever-so-slightly flitting from it to your lips and back again. 

“Thank you, Stevie.” 

“You’re welcome, angel.”

You pinched yourself, then took another sip.

Silence fell, comfortable and calm, as you both nursed your drinks, checking your phones and letting time pass. You didn’t care to check the clock. 

Steve cleared his throat and set his phone down. 

“So, um,” he began. “What else did you have planned for your birthday?” 

His voice was low, tender, careful with the question so as not to upset you. He was curious, however, and determined to see exactly how much Tony fucked up your night.

And your life.

“Oh,” you swallowed, chewing your lip in an attempt to remember what you’d originally planned.

“He was, ah, gonna take me dancing. After dinner, after he,” you took an unsteady breath, “after he met my family. It was the one thing he told me he'd let me do after dinner.” You shook your head, adding under your breath, “besides him.”

Tension seeped into the space between you both. You didn’t want to meet Steve’s stare; it was the one you’d always see whenever you told him about Tony, one filled with anger so palpable it made his arms flex subconsciously, one he thought he hid well enough so you never saw, but you always did. Without looking up, you already knew his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were stiff and his eyes bored a hole into the wall behind you. Butterflies started to somersault, crashing into the waves of worry and anxiety. 

“Why?”

You looked up. Blue eyes. Stormy, swirling, stubborn.

“What?”

“Why did you stay with him?” Steve asked steadily, voice barely above a whisper. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

You paused. “Because he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“I could’ve helped you. We could’ve helped you,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the house.

Your teeth tore into your bottom lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“I–” Steve sighed and carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, frustrated, trying to keep his promise while also appealing to you and balancing the fragile tightrope you two stood on. “I care about you, angel. I care about you so fuckin’ much. I just wanna know why. Why he was– why you were–”

“I–” Don’t fucking cry. “I was trapped. Every time I tried to leave, he’d tie me down more. It… it wasn’t as easy as you fucking think, Steve. Rose-colored glasses, wool over my eyes, wolf in sheep's clothing, that sorta thing, ya know? These last couple years, I… I don’t know why tonight was it, and I don’t know how I was able to get out, and I just… I don’t fucking know. I don’t. I–” 

You felt tears again. 

“I– Angel, I wasn’t trying to–”

“No, I know,” you cut him off, setting down your mug to rub your face in your hands. “I know. But I need you to understand that I– God, my fucking brain feels so scrambled. I just feel so confused, I feel like I’m going insane right now. Fuck!” 

You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths to feed your strained lungs, holding on to each before exhaling. In, hold, out, repeat. 

The room was spinning again, whirling around like a sick carnival ride as your center of gravity began to give.

As you braced the counter, strong hands and warm, muscular arms engulfed you, lifting you back from the countertop and guiding you into the middle of the kitchen. Steve pressed into you until you relented, reaching your arms around him and pulling him closer. The tension in your shoulders melted, migrating to your chest where your heart surged the moment he touched you, where it pounded against your sternum, threatening to break out of its marrow cage. You inhaled him, savoring him, feeling him all around you.

Slowly, delicately, Steve unwrapped from you. He was careful with every touch, as if he would shatter you– even though he had no problem with putting you back together again. He’d done it a million times before, and he’d do it a million times again.

He’d do it all again for you. 

Steve carefully slid your hands from around his center, placing one onto his shoulder, then– nervously and ever-so-slowly– he held your other hand out, sliding down your forearm and entwining his fingers into yours. His free hand fell softly onto your waist, fingers absently and lightly kneading the fabric and skin underneath his palm.

“May I have this dance?” he whispered.

You looked up from the floor to Steve, speechless. You nodded.

Then, he started to sway. He guided you both, rocking side to side to an unheard rhythm and subtly spinning in unison under the soft glow of the kitchen light.

He smiled softly, boyish and genuine, with admiration and tenderness in his eyes. Something gentle and kind, something about the feeling and the familiarity of it– of him– sank into you the longer you looked at him. Your focus shifted around the features of his chiseled face. You recognized the light freckles stippled across his nose and cheeks leftover from the summer; the scar on his earlobe from the night Natasha drunkenly dared you to pierce his ear and failed; the faint worry lines sculpted into his forehead he inherited from his father; the soft, full pink of his lips that innocently parted when you caught him staring at you.

It was the feeling that felt foreign to you; the one missing from your life after the last two years. But, it wasn’t missing. It had been right in front of you the entire time stealing glances, accidental touches, and irreplaceable memories.

Steve had been there. 

Steve had been the one looking at you like that for the last two years. 

He wasn’t missing. He was just waiting his turn. 

And, judging by the realization that washed over your face, his waiting was over. 

Steve's smile widened as he squeezed your waist, wordlessly confirming the thoughts running rampant in your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the ghost of a cry, blinking away tears forming in the corners of his vision. 

Your lips trembled as you smiled back. Slowly, you snaked your hand from his shoulder to his cheek and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch instantly, stubble and skin rubbed against your palm as he kissed it lightly. The press of his lips sent a spark coursing through your veins, electrifying your body and the air around you. The two of you continued to sway while the kitchen spun faster, a blurred whirlwind while you both remained in focus.

“When?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“Since the day I met you.”

“Why didn’t you–”

Steve shrugged. “I wanted to get to know you first. Didn’t wanna be some random dude who just wanted you for your number. You seemed too special to rush into something. Still are,” he sighed. “I wanted to be your friend first, but before I could muster up some courage, Tony swept you out from under me.” 

Guilt crawled up your throat. “I– I’m sorry, Stevie.”

He stepped away from you, twirling you, then dragged you back to him. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating. 

“No, baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I promise. I–” his voice broke. “I wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I just– I wish I did more for you. I should’ve done more for you.”

He tilted his head to the ceiling trying to stop his tears from falling, but you pulled him right back down to you. 

“Steve,” you started, keeping on his baby blues while your own voice struggled to remain steady, “you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the entire world. Hell, in my entire life. I just lost the last two years of my life suffering with someone I thought I loved. Who I thought loved me.”

You brought your other hand to his face. “You did all you could. I just… I thought it was gonna get better, you know? I thought, I hoped– God, I even fucking prayed– that he’d get better, but he didn’t. Nothing did. And I couldn’t find a way out. It’s like he conditioned me to believe he was the only one I had, like, he was the only one who’d ever save me.”

Steve frowned, but nodded in understanding. 

“I’m glad you came to me. Not just tonight, but every night. It was like reassuring me that I didn’t totally lose you, or like I never totally lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Stevie.”

His face, red-hot underneath your touch, moved closer to yours. You couldn’t tell if you were pulling or he was pushing. His hands gripped your waist the tighter you held his face, the two of you crashing into one another in slow-motion. The light above you grew brighter, the humming of the appliances was getting louder, the room spun at an infinitely unfathomable speed. 

You crashed together. 

Soft lips– softer than either of you could’ve ever pictured feeling– fit together like the perfect puzzle pieces. Neither of you moved, staying locked together until your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer and smashing his nose into your cheek. His grip became bruising as his fingers kneaded into your waist, steadying himself with your hips. You felt another surge of electricity as his tongue jutted out, parting your lips and swiping along the bottom before retreating back behind his.

He tipped you backwards on your heel, smirking against your lips as you flinched and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt. 

Setting you upright, he pulled away from the kiss and whispered, “I’ll never let you go.”

“Never?” 

“Ever.”

You kissed him again, and the butterflies went wild. 

[babygirl-riley]

Oh, My Love

“I had a nightmare…but now i’m not scared.”

How Simon fell in love with you.

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst list

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of childhood trauma, little bit of smut, swearing, and violence

Simon never knew what love meant. He never had it growing up, yes his mother loved him he knew that. However, he tried to block out those memories since most of them were about his father. When he beat the fuck out of his father and it was just his mom, brother, sister in law, nephew, and him that’s when love came into play.

His mother and brother were something he would consider close. He would do anything for them go beyond even, take his brother out to the nearest pub, bring his mother flowers, take his nephew to get ice cream. He thought nothing could happen, thought love was a simple thing. But then they were taken. Taken because of his actions. The consequence.

So love was an enemy to him. He tried not to get close with anyone. Stayed yards away from it, he barely went in dates. He would only have night one stands NEVER again. Team mates he would care for only as a superior way, since losing men and women was always the case.

The word love was a poison to him. He could never love. Or be loved. Not for who he was or what he has done. Nothing would change his mind.

…Then you came along. The team celebrated the win of the mission at a pub. Simon felt eyes on him as he looked around he saw a group of women. Typical he would think until you, small and tiny compared to him walked up. The confidence yet shyness did something to him. Amusement? Shock? All he knew was that Simon felt some flutter in his chest when your beautiful eyes looked at you. When you lips would lay still, being plumped.

He would leave with you that night for sure. Fuck you until your body basically needed to rest and he would cum all over your stomach. Usually he would leave it at that, never clean ya up, never sleep there. However the way his name would slip out from your lips when he would hit that right spot. How you would praise him for finishing on you. How you rubbed his back as both of you were exhausted.

He woke up last, noticing a note with a number and name. Yours. The flutter once more.

Couple months go by, your third date. Simon would belittle himself when he kept calling you to go out with him after missions. You would pick up and coy with him, exchanging flirty comments. How your laugh made him smile to himself. Simon would think he was acting like a child but didn’t care at the same time. Third date was the date you moved his mask up to his nose to kiss him.

At first he almost smacked your hand away. Feeling the sweat and his heart beating quickly. His muscles wanting to vibrate but you stopped almost to his lips and smirked. Telling him. “This is where you meet in the middle Manchester.” God the nickname, you knew where he was from, he mentioned it. Why would it make him to his knees? Only the gods know why. He kissed you not passionately. Not fierce. Lovingly.

Once he felt like love was getting too close he put a wall up. Ghost protecting Simon. He ignored your texts and calls for months. Eventually you did stop calling and messaging. That made his mind race. What if you were with someone and it wasn’t him touching you. Calling you. Fucking you. Cuddling you. So he went to your place, flowers in hand, and a page letter to read.

When you opened the door you of course weren’t happy but willing to listen. Everything he wanted to say left his mind. Reciting it was so useless. Instead he told you how he is afraid of losing you if he got too close to you. You didn’t pry. Questioned. Just listened and nodded before you walked around the counter to tell him that you weren’t going anywhere.

When he asked for you to move in with him after a year. He noticed the flutter was turning into more of a flip feeling. Your laugh would make him laugh. His jokes came out more just for him to listen to your laugh. The way you let him get home from deployment and left him alone until he was ready. When the first time he took his mask off in front of you, you said nothing before smiling saying : “Well hello handsome.”

How when Simon felt the first time during sex that he was connected to you. That the sex wasn’t for only pleasure but to feel like he was wanted. Appreciated. Cared for. He didn’t know what it meant. The passionate fucking became more and more. He loved the feeling when you grab his face to place his forehead against yours, looking into his eyes as you came for the fourth time. Or how you would know what spots got him GOING that no one else even him would know. Simon secretly loved when you had him babbling about you pussy as you would overstimulate him. Milking his cock more and more. “You know how to make me feel good.” “Ya can do anything you wan…” “Atta girl making me want more and more.” “Fuck me until I have no more to give.” Those would be the some of the many sentences that would leave his mouth as he panted. NEVER has a woman done that to him.

How he would ACTUALLY laugh as you both would tackle each other on the bed to see who was the strongest of course it’s him but he would let you “win.” Or how you would make a pretty good dad joke. Laugh at something so stupid. The way his chest would be filled, with what he could never know. It would just bring the child that never was able to come out as a kid as you both would throw frosting and flour at each other while baking.

The flip would come back when he would smell his favorite foods, that his mom use to make. He would have made a comment a long time ago and you would remember those small things. How his favorite snack would always be stocked. How his clothes would be folded how he liked them. How when you both would cuddle you would rub the back of his head and hum a lullaby that your mom sang, till he fell asleep. Making him feel safe.

Simon eventually figured out what the feelings he would get was. When he had his first nightmare in front of you, he would be thrashing and screaming. You would lull him awake as he would snap awake and ready to kill. You would rub his back shushing him, trying to get him back down from the adrenaline. Rub the back of his neck and head. He did eventually lay down on your chest, after you told him to listen to your heart. That you are real. Simon cried, the first time as well, silently at first until it turned to sobs. You shushed soothingly as you played with the back of his hair. “It’s okay.” “You’re safe.” You would mumble and then the one line you said that stopped his crying was “You are loved Si.”

Simon would tense, having you think that you messed up. Simon looked up to your face before reaching up to your cheek. After all these years. Decades. He finally found someone he truly cares for. All those feelings led to this moment. He smiled having all the pain from the nightmare be left behind.

This is love. He slowly fell in love with someone he never thought he deserved. Fuck how he missed it. How he missed the feeling of someone loving him. He missed loving someone else. His best friend. His soulmate if he wanted to get mushy.

He inhaled deeply before saying that sentence. That would make everything become real. “I love you too.” He would whisper and not be scared that you would disappear.

[femdomdiaries]

Random Gojo Headcanons

If yall want me to put any of these into a separate post to better fit your blog theme let me know. It’s just random thoughts rn.

Tw: NSFW below cut. MDNI. One of these mentions breeding qnd pregnancy kink, the other mentions that gojo is a service switch.

SFW Headcanons (Realistic)

He's canonically addicted to sweets so do not underestimate what he would do for a Klondike bar.

On a museum date he would giggle and point everytime he sees a naked statue.

Doesn’t sleep often but when he does he often has nightmares about his past. Never when you’re around.

Doesn't drink but is fluent in drunk and can often be found being a bad influence to intoxicated people at parties.

Hope you don't get embarrassed easily because he has no shame and there will be loads of PDA.

Doesn’t wear headphones for the same reason he doesn’t get drunk.

He would steal your clothes, then when you catch him wearing your stuff, he'd deny that they're yours. You can't really fight him about it because he honestly wears it better anyway.

If you’re shorter than him (he’s 6’3 so likely), he rests his chin on your head when he hugs you from behind.

Chronically late so you have to tell him things in advance.

He always wins competitive games so now he tends to stick to creativity oriented ones like Minecraft. From an artistic perspective he tends to suck at those.

Obscure/Crack Headcanons

He licks the icing off the oreos and puts them back in the package.

Snags bites of your food but complains if you eat his food.

To make up for stealing your clothes he'd order you a "smoking hot outfit" he saw online. But when it arrives it’s barbie doll sized.

Don’t worry, he also got you these really nice shoes. But when the shoes come in they're also barbie doll sized. He puts them on his fingers and walks them up your face.

When he grabs ass or gropes you anywhere he says honk honk or beep beep or something like that.

Still has the original flappy bird on his phone. He holds the high score. Could have gotten higher but he lost interest after a couple thousand.

He made a portrait of you out of macaroni art. You keep it at your job. Your coworkers often say how they wish their children were still in the cute art making stage.

His phone wallpaper is a picture of you naked with hot face emojis censoring your private bits.

His lock screen is you with the potato filter.

Keeps a plant because plants are often unpredictable so even he wouldn't get that right by default.

Had an Undertale phase. You know how Sans is lazy and puts forth no effort because he knows it’ll all just be reset by the player anyway? Gojo canonically doesn’t get involved in major conflicts or try to solve everything because he knows that when he dies it’ll all just revert back to the usual. Twinnem.

Actively played pokemon go when it came out and was definitely on team instinct. Probably trespassed in weird places tryna catch rare pokemon and was single handedly carrying team instinct in his region. (Arguments could be made for team Mystic)

NSFW headcanons (realistic)

Bros the type to beg for sex in public then giggle loudly when you're trying not to get caught in the public bathroom

Since he's kinda just the best at everything, he's been worshipped his whole life, so praise would just go over his head. But degrading him? Using power play to humiliate him or make him seem inadequate in some way? Works wonders.

He would send you really explicit texts and get you all hot and bothered only for it to turn out that he was talking about tres leches cake.

Playfully mocks you for not being able to keep up with his stamina.

While he may have infinite cursed energy, he has a limit to his physical stamina and does eventually get tired after going too many rounds.

Believes that the future rides on the youth, so heavy on the breeding kink and pregnancy kink. Wants kids so if you'll allow it best believe this man is not pulling out.

Obscure/Crack NSFW Headcanons

As a service switch he's more than willing to make up for outperforming you by servicing you on demand. It doesn't matter where or when you're horny, he's all yours.

He gets even more turned on when you push him past his limits to use him like a toy.

Says he wants to bring "a special friend" to bed but it's just a stray cat he found. (If you're allergic, it's a life sized cat plush.)

Answers the phone during sex and doesn't care how loud you are, will talk as if nothing else is going on

"Oh, I have to take this. Oi, Nanami. Yes, this is a good time. Hmm? Oh, nobody's hurt, that's just (Y/n). Say hi (Y/n)."

You'd think his favorite sex toy would be some type of gawk gawk 3000 but no, it's a fleshlight that glows in the dark.

Would love to be a rope bunny but he’s just too strong and always breaks the restraints when he gets excited.

He’ll still want to be tied up if only for aesthetics. Maybe you’ll find curse imbued cuffs on the dark web or something.