#but when i ask them how to get started when i’m so goddamn tired every waking moment they’re just like

[lesbegays]

if anyone has tips on how to eat well and exercise a little when you’re so tired every day you can’t even bring yourself to do the things you enjoy pls let me know

[stinkbeck]

try to calm down and have a good time but then it’s like shit goes downhill sooo fast if i’m not overthinking everything. like UGH look what my trust has gotten me! god i hate relying on people.

[tootiecakes234]

I just know you would receive “gifts” from Katsuki all the time. They’d be little things to make your life easier that you didn’t even know you needed.

You like to read at night to unwind, but sometimes it’ll be a really good book so you want to stay up reading it. The thing is you don’t wanna bother Katsuki cuz you know he has a strict bedtime. This means often times you’ll stay a little longer in the living room reading as to not bother him.

One night you’re getting ready for bed when you see a box next to your bed.

“Hey Kat, is this yours?”, you say loud enough for him to hear you in the bathroom.

He peaks his head out the door and says, “No, I ordered it for you.” And then goes back to what he was doing.

You sit on the edge of the bed and open it up. It’s a reading light with a dampener so you can adjust the brightness.

He comes dragging his little slippered feet towards his side of the bed.

“Now you can keep your ass in bed. Tired of waking up and you being asleep on the couch. I’m an old man, I can’t keep carrying you to bed.”

You look at him with a bright smile on your face.

“You know you can just say, you like me being in the bed with you while you’re sleeping. You know, because I’m your big bad protector and I make you feel safe.”

“There is no talking to you sometimes you know that?”

It’s winter time and you always have your gloves on because you HATE your fingers being cold. The only problem is of course you have to remove said gloves to use your phone when you’re out and that SUCKS.

You’re out with him one day and you’ve been texting back and forth with Mina because her and her girlfriend are in an argument and she of course comes to you about it.

You are always there for your friend so you’ve been removing and putting on your gloves over and over again until Katsuki can’t stand it anymore.

You’re outside on a bench waiting for him while he runs into some shop when he comes back out he snatches your phone out of your hand.

“What the hell? I’m usin-“ you start shouting at him.

“ give me those shitty gloves and put these on. I’m sick of watching you struggle.”

When you look down you see a pair of gloves in your favorite color.

“How are these any different from the ones I have now, Mr. Know-it-all”

He smirks at you, “These gloves are thicker than those thin ones you use AND they work on smart phones.. so yea. I do know it all.”

“Oh…. Well thanks I guess” you murmur lowly.

“Now you can talk Racoon eyes through her mental breakdowns without getting frost bite in your fingers.”he says then hands you back your phone. “She deserve better than that idiot anyways. Don’t why she keeps putting up with it.”

Katsuki is leaving for a mission today and you’ve been so gloomy. He gonna be gone at least 3 days, maybe even the whole week.

You’re been wrapped around him like ivy since you woke up this morning.

“Listen woman, I have to go. You do this every time.”he says with his arms wrapped around you waist pulling you even more flush against him.

“You should clone yourself or something. Who am I gonna cuddle with now?? And who is gonna cook for me?? I’ll die of starvation before you get back. Is that what you want. To come home to a dead girlfriend???”

“You are so damn dramatic. Cuddle with the damn plethor of plushies you have in my goddamn bed. And as far as food… you won’t starve. You’ll just eat out everyday and I’ll come back to you complaining you’ve gained weight when you look the exact same.”

“I do not.”, you start to object.

“Yes you do. Which is why I made a few meals and froze them.” He says all smug, cuz he knows that would surprise you.

“You what??” You ask looking up at him with wide eyes.

“There’s a pot pie and dumplings. I even stored a lasagna in there.” Then his phone buzzes letting him know his ride is downstairs.

“Ok I gotta go. I love you.” And he bends down to give you a deep kiss. “Be safe. Call Eiji if you need anything and try not to burn the house down before I get back.”

“I love you too. Come back to me in one piece please.”

He smiles at you, “always”

He kisses you one more time and then heads to the car.

You go directly to the fridge to see the frozen meals he left you. And not only are the packages all neatly but he’s left the heating instructions on top for you.

To say there were tears shed would be an understatement.

Katsuki Masterlist

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo @sweetblueworm @tippy-toes @superlegend216

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list in the comments💕

[iamasaddie]

tired

paring: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: explicit warnings: explicit sexual content, unspecified age gap, reader has hair that you can run your fingers through, no use of Y/N, UNEDITED a/n: fully inspired by this post @bonezone44 dared to put out so i thank them for basically punching me out of the no-writing period of my life <3 and also thank you to people who've been tagging me in multiple wip challenges and fic games, especially @milla-frenchy and @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog <3 you reminded me that i was indeed an author a million years ago word count: 2.6k masterlist

Joel was tired. His back was hurting from helping Tommy fix up his roof, his knees were aching from climbing up and down that goddamn ladder that he could swore was ready to break at any second. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a night where he could just relax. Throw his body somewhere in his house and have someone take care of it. 

Now that Ellie was building her adult life with Dina, their place - his place - now felt like just a roof over his head, all the homeyness gone with the girl that almost single-handedly owned his sharp and rusty heart.  

Joel squeezed his eyes shut, dry fingertips running over the lids. He did not want to go home and fall asleep on the couch, cursing everything the world stands on the next morning when he needs to fight the tears of pain with every back spasm he gets. No, he needed someone to take care of him, to give him something good, god knows he’s given these people more than enough over these past years. But, Joel sighed to himself, scrunching his nose as his eyes fell on the dirty knees of his jeans, he was not in shape of wining and dining women tonight. 

That’s what you need casual connections for, old idiot, he chuckled to himself, remembering a few times he had to spell it out for some ladies that he wasn’t interested.

You practically jumped on a stool next to him while he was still considering his options.

“Hey, Joel, long night?” 

Of course you’d be the first to ask about his day. Little miss sunshine. Well, at least that’s what he thought at first, before seeing you mercilessly killing a couple of infected villagers that weren’t careful enough on the patrol. Still, you were as syrupy sweet as honey on a fresh batch of pancakes when it came to him. The only one who didn’t cringe when he said his firm “no, thanks”. The only one who didn’t actually take his no for an answer.

You never actually threw yourself at him, but Joel learned what desire looks like and you were too young to learn how to mask it properly. 

“Hey, kid.” He nodded, he knew how much you hated the nickname because it put even a bigger barrier between the two of you.

“Told you not to call me that, I’m only—“

“Twenty something years younger than me? Yeah.”

He saw your lips hiding in a thin line, your unbreakable spirit was too fragile when it came to him. Joel must’ve gone soft, or insane, because he nudged your shoulder with his, making you lift your head up and look him in the eyes.

“Tommy’s roof’s been a pain in the ass to fix. It’d be easier to burn that place down and build a new one, but my brother is as stubborn as them mules he’s been dreaming to have.”

You huffed a laugh, palm squeezing the slippery glass that was now empty a little too hard. “You know,” you started, shyness verging with hope that you tried to sheath with a nonchalant tone. Joel knew. And for the first time in years he actually contemplated, nodding to you to continue. “I could help you relax, I sometimes give massages in the hospital. It can really help with back pain.”

He purposefully kept silent, looking you in the eyes and trying to make you go back on your proposal. But as he knew already, you were no less stubborn than his little brother. It was karma or something that the only people that were semi-constant in his life were the ones who’d rather kiss an infected than give up. 

Joel wasn’t exactly tortured with his conscience, he didn’t seduce you, and most of the old world morals have died already, so the age gap the size of an adult child didn’t bother him either. He was almost glad you tried again, he just needs to make sure you know it’s not something it isn’t. 

“Yeah, my back’s been hurtin’ pretty bad today.” He finished his drink not tearing his eyes off you, and then he slowly let them trace your lips, the naked expanse of your neck that you showed off by unbuttoning a couple of buttons on your shirt. He looked lower, noticing your breasts rise and fall faster under his unmasked gaze. 

“Wanna go now?” Your voice was breathless like you’d just ran a marathon. He wondered how you’d sound later tonight. 

“Sure, darlin’. Lead the way.”

You never said anything when Joel strode past the hospital shack, not even slowing his pace. He was saying something about the roof again but it was hard to understand through the blood pumping jungle beats in your ears. 

You kept nodding and humming in agreement, though you couldn’t quite process the words. As you followed him, the anticipation gnawed at you, every step closer tightening the knot in your stomach. You knew he was taking you home, well, he was taking you to his house, and you went too slow for the amount of times that you dreamed to step over his doorstep. Joel's house was small and dimly lit, for some reason it was exactly how you imagined it: homey in spite of the circumstances. Joel took off his jacket silently, the faint smell of cedar and something musky filled the air, mingling with his earthy scent. He turned to face you, those piercing eyes locking onto yours.

“You gonna give me a massage wearing this?” He pointed at the warm coat you put on in a hurry as you were leaving the bar. Your fingers stumbled over each other as you tried to open the buttons of the damn thing. You felt a flush of warmth rise to your cheeks under his scrutiny.

Your fingers touched as you gave him your coat, but there was no electricity, his fingers were rough and scratched your skin, your palm became sweaty and you hurried to wipe it on your jeans when he didn’t look.

“Let’s go, bedroom’s upstairs,” his voice was low and calm, somehow its vibrations helped you settle, grounded you. You gave him a quick smile and followed his broad figure. Every stair squeaked under his heavy footsteps, you looked like a mouse that was chasing a bear. Willingly. The bedroom door creaked open to reveal a space just as humble as the rest of the house. A couple of drawings in handmade frames, a chair with a pair of pants on it, and the bed. Your eyes were glued to it. The bed and its tangled sheets seemed inviting, though a wave of nerves prickled your spine. ‘You’re here to give him a massage, don’t get ahead of yourself’ you thought, teeth sinking in your lower lip. You weren’t too young or naive to think that a massage was all this night would end with, but such a quick change of heart in Joel made you doubt your every breath. 

When you brought your eyes back to the man you saw him studying you, you could swear a nervous tick clenched his jaw but you didn’t let yourself ponder on it.

“I’m gonna rip the bandaid off and say it as it is, okay, pretty girl?”

Your breath hitched. Joel stepped closer, his eyes steadily holding yours. You nodded, not trusting your voice. His gaze was intense, making your heart hammer loudly enough to be heard.

"Massage ain’t exactly the thing I took ya here for,” Joel admitted, eyes dark, voice raw with honesty. “If you catch my drift.”

“I…” You cleared your throat, you wanted to look confident, or at least not scared. You’ve wanted to get into this man’s bed for months now, imagined how and when and what, and now that it happens you can barely squeeze out a, “yeah, of course I do.”

Joel smiled, one of his hands flying to cup your jaw as he brought his lips closer to yours and you closed your eyes in anticipation of his soft skin on yours. “Good girl,” the remnants of his wet breath stained your lips.

As quickly as he came at you, he left. His pace was languid when he worked on taking off his jeans, leaving himself in a ridiculous attire of a flannel shirt, a t-shirt underneath and simple cotton boxers.

You bit your lip, suppressing a giggle at the sight. His eyes snagged on your smile, sharpening with mischief. Joel raised an eyebrow, catching your amusement. “What’s so funny, darlin’?”

“Nothing,” your cheeks felt extra hot and you were glad for the poor lighting in the bedroom. “Lay on your back, please. As I said before, I’d like to help you relax.”

Joel held your gaze for a hot minute, but then silently followed your order. “I’d maybe argue any other day, but not now, sweetheart. Today I’ll take all the care I can get,” he smiled, but you missed the warm gesture. He laid back, his head hitting the pillow, long curls that he had left to grow splayed around the back of his head. You were too focused, letting your hands wander over his chest, feeling the texture of his shirt and the years of safer life that he was hiding underneath had grown out brushing against the fabric. You moved your fingers lightly over his chest, watching his eyes flutter closed.

His hands blindly found yours, hardened blisters of his palms scraped your soft skin, and he pushed your hands lower, somewhere you didn’t dare look for too long.

“Don’t be shy, babygirl,” he muttered with his eyes still closed. You let him guide you. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the rigidity slowly melting away under your touch. 

You remembered him talking about ripping a bandage off, so you followed his philosophy, hooking your fingers under the elastic of his boxers and tugging the material down. As the cool air grazed his skin, he released a slow, shuddering breath. It felt like something forced you to lift your head up, you met his gaze and saw a flicker of softness and gratefulness in his eyes.

“This okay?” You whispered, hands already exploring the places your eyes were too shy to inspect.

“More than,” Joel’s voice was calm, breathing barely indicating the intimate setting you were in. His eyes fell shut again and a part of you thought that was only to give you more freedom, save you from his scrutiny. You noticed the slight hitch in his breath with each new touch, his body responding to your feathery strokes.

When your fingertips grazed the hot skin covered in coarse hair you couldn’t help but look. Even in half darkness it was easy to see that Joel was well-endowed and eager. His cock laid on the pillow of his pubic hair, the shaft slightly curved. Pink tip was glistening with precum and you wondered if you got him excited or the promise of future pleasure. Your left hand was resting on his hip when as if hypnotized you traced your index finger from his tip to where his base was covered in sparse graying curls.

Joel’s cock jumped to attention, twitching under your light touch, prompting you to close your fist around it which you immediately did. With the first tug on the velvety soft skin both of you released a moan.

“Spit on it, baby, make it wet,” Joel’s voice was relaxed, as if you put your hand on a muscle that was aching for days and relieved the pain.

Your short nails dug into his hip when you started contemplating how to do it. You weren’t completely innocent, far from it, but somehow you could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times you needed to spit during sex. Deciding against spitting in your own palm, you took a different position, scooting lower down the bed and hunching over Joel’s waiting cock. The moment the smell of his skin and sweat hit your nose it was like you were intoxicated. Your lips closed around his flushed tip, tongue diving to get more of his taste. Both of your hands settled on his hips, either to hold him down or find balance. You abandoned the idea of spitting, the thought of not having his cock in your mouth almost pained you. It was like this was the grand finale of your romantic labor. Here, on your knees between the legs of a man who was holding you at arm's length for the longest time. It shouldn’t have felt so good, but it did. Taking care of him, even in this basic, primal way, felt like taking care of yourself.

Your wet mouth slid further down, the thick shaft of Joel’s cock stretching your lips. It took you a moment to realize Joel’s hands were in your hair. For a moment you thought he wanted you to stop, you even started to lift off, but the firm pressure of his hand on your head made it clear that he wasn’t against this turn of events. You let yourself build up to a comfortable taste, exploring each centimeter of his skin in your mouth, the way a couple of veins bulged under your tongue, the ridge of the head pushing further in your throat. You didn’t hurry and neither did he. You savored the slow rhythm of push and pull, letting him go deeper with every thrust.

One of his hands left your head and you raised your eyes to Joel’s face, mouth still very occupied with his cock. He must have felt it, because he barely lifted his head off the pillow, stray curls sticking to his sweaty forehead and you could swear you saw him wink at you before he laid his head back, using the freed hand to tuck away long strands of hair behind his ear.

The picture of this man, always so rough and guarded, finally relaxing under your touch and shedding the years of hostility made you drunker than any booze Tommy could’ve offered. Your movements became faster, saliva dripping down his cock and making it glisten. You felt Joel’s hips tense under your palms and you didn’t even need to hear the shameless moans drowned by your excitement and the sloppy wet sounds to know he was close.

“Doin’ good for me, baby, doin’ real good,” he groaned as you felt the tip of his cock punch the back of your throat repeatedly. Your eyes watered, but you admitted to yourself that you would rather suffocate and die than let the cock of this man out of your mouth. Your jaw was aching, the pleasurable pain that said how good of a job you did. 

The shaft under your tongue felt even harder, a loaded gun pressing on your tongue and you couldn’t wait for it to shoot.

Both of Joel’s hands returned to your head pressing you into his skin so hard that little hairs tickled your nose and your vision started to go blurry.

His load was salty and thick, you felt it slide down your throat like lava, burning you from the inside. Barely catching your breath you sat straight, watching closely how Joel’s chest rose and fell following his erratic breathing. There was an indecent amount of wetness gathered in the gusset of your panties and by the look on Joel’s face you knew you’d have to handle it yourself.

“Feeling good?” Your voice sounded weird, hoarse and raspy in the gritty silence of the room.

“You’re really good at massage, darlin’, I’m more relaxed than the day I was born,” Joel held his gaze on you, using his shoulder to scratch the underside of his jaw. You took it as your key to leave, after all, you never agreed to anything more.

Joel’s voice stopped you with one foot over the doorstep.

“Maybe I could return the favor some time.”

[cheqorb]

OFF-SCRIPT ROMANCE ft. reo, sae, kaiser

you’re both just in a fake relationship for both of your own benefits, nothing more is going on behind the scenes! and it’s definitely not actual love!

NOTES: made in mind with characters aged up to maybe around 20+ ish? i’ll continue working on mer-love requests. im even thinking of opening bnha requests since i’ve gotten back into it recently. can’t tell if kaiser is ooc or not, but i’m sure you guys are sick of my apologies so i’ll try to stop LMAOO

edit: wrote this before kaiser’s backstory and goddamn it.

as the heir to the illustrious mikage corporation, REO knew, deep down, that the time would come when he'd have to step into his parents' shoes and take control of the company. and speaking of which, his parents seem to be growing increasingly more eager to see him settle down, constantly badgering him about finding a suitable partner whenever he visited them. however, his career of being a professional soccer player meant that he would probably only be able to see them if he played games in japan itself, which rarely happened anyway.

he wasn’t an idiot; maintaining a relationship with his schedule would be practically impossible, his s/o would certainly get tired of it after a few months, and he wasn’t keen on the idea of forcing them to travel with him to every single match.

the thought of starting a relationship under false pretenses, merely to appease his parents, left a bitter taste in his mouth. he wasn’t exactly the type of guy who wanted to break someone’s heart over this. reo was stuck wondering how on earth he could pull this off, until by some stroke of genius, you came into his mind.

though not close friends, your paths had crossed enough times for him to recognise your presence. considering your own status as the heir to your own family’s fortune, his parents would also approve of you. plus, you’re already familiar with the expectations such wealth brings, surely, the lifestyle of being his significant other wouldn’t be too different from the one you already had?

as reo stumbled over his words, his usually confident demeanor giving way to a palpable sense of unease, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of empathy. despite his attempts to mask his nerves, it was clear that this request weighed heavily on him, even more so than his typical bravado could conceal.

“so, i was hoping you could consider—“

his tentative smile faltered as you swiftly interjected, a curt “yes” escaping your mouth before he could even finish his carefully rehearsed proposal. the relief in his eyes was unmistakable, though tinged with a hint of disbelief at your response. his expression softened, a mixture of surprise and relief evident in his features. “you…you don’t need to make your decision so quickly,” he stammered, clearly taken aback by your immediate acceptance. “i understand it’s a difficult thing to ask of you…”

reo couldn't help but feel nervous, in hindsight, the arrangement had fallen a little too seamlessly into place. your willingness to dive headfirst into a relationship without a moment's hesitation freaked him out slightly, but it did ultimately solve his problem! with you by his side, he could continue his career while still making his parents happy.

of course, he still had his doubts but you seemed perfectly happy to spend your days in comfort and go on luxurious vacations with your friends if he had matches coming up.

and as if his luck couldn’t get any better, you’re quite the lovely person yourself. even in the absence of his parents, you always go above and beyond to maintain appearances (he thinks that’s what your trying to do anyway?) and ensure he’s happy. whether it was a home-cooked meal awaiting him after a long day or your presence in the stands, cheering him on during matches, your seemingly genuine care for him truly warmed reo's heart.

in return, reo finds himself taking extra care of you, making sure you’ve got nice clothes to wear, randomly calling you in the middle of the night, a slip of the tongue petname here and there…

nagi could only only sigh (internally in his head, it’s too much work to actually sigh) as reo picked up his phone for the umpteenth time this hour. “maybe they’re just sleeping..?” he offers, though it doesn’t seem to help very much.

“they haven’t responded to any texts, they won’t even pick up the phone…” the man laments, sulking in the corner of the room, “my dear (name) could be in danger and i’m not there to help them-“

a quick ding from his phone soon shoots him upright from his misery, a hopeful look now on his face. he only seems more cheerful once he notices it’s a voice message too, he just loves listening to you speak! your voice is always so— ‘reo, please go to sleep, it’s late in (country) right now, isn’t it? call me back in the morning, don’t you dare think of staying up to text me.’

huh? does he really do that?

SAE’s attitude and abrasive personality is definitely one of his manager’s least favourite qualities about him. the midfielder's dislike for interviews and meet-and-greets, coupled with his unabashed insults towards those he found irritating, posed a significant challenge for his public image. while some die-hard fans may have been drawn to his aloofness in the first place, it was hardly the ideal image for sponsorship deals or modeling contracts.

his manager entertained the idea of sae entering into a relationship. perhaps, he mused, the presence of a significant other could soften his rough edges and make him more approachable to the public. though he doubted sae would ever agree to such a scheme, he was a bit desperate now. can’t hurt to try, right?

as you sat outside the room, the tension hung heavy in the air. each candidate that emerged only served to heighten your nerves, leaving you questioning your decision to agree to this dumb offer in the first place. the obvious heartbroken expressions of the people leaving the room, along with the unmistakable voice of itoshi sae uttering the word "rejected," did little to ease the growing pit in your stomach.

finally, your name was called, and you entered the room with as little flair/flamboyance as you could, no need to embarrass yourself more than you already will. his bored expression did little to boost your confidence and you found yourself avoiding direct eye contact as you introduced yourself in a sheepish manner. “hello, uhm, it’s nice to meet you. i’m (l/n) (name).”

despite sae’s initial perception of you, there was something about your genuine yet unassuming nature that intrigued him. you spoke about yourself with an honesty that bordered on indifference, almost as if you had resigned yourself to an inevitable rejection so you didn’t care how genuinely insane the things you were saying were. (seriously, wdym in college you went to a skate park and came home with a horse…)

the words escape his mouth before he can even think of what he’s saying, “look up at me.”

his request caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but stammer out an apology before reluctantly meeting his gaze. under the intensity of his teal eyes, you felt a pang of self-consciousness but thankfully maintained your composure until the end. “but, uh. that’s all I can really say about myself. thanks for listening to me.”

you flash him a smile, before swiftly getting up and exiting through the door without even letting him get a word in. ‘finally, that’s over with…’ you do feel a little bad for sae though, hopefully he would take an interest in at least one of the candidates that came in after you.

you truly believed you had created a lasting impression of someone who was most definitely not a good fit for a prodigy like him (as well as a bit of a weirdo), so imagine your shock at the email sent to you the very next day by his manager. to make a long paragraph short, you got the position! well done..?

and now, his manager arranged for you and sae to meet together for a first date to truly make sure this relationship would, at the bare minimum, allow you to be cordial with one another. well, that’s what he was hoping for anyway. if you’ve got a person like sae on your hands, you learn to not expect things to turn positive.

his blunt remarks and stoic demeanor could’ve easily derailed the evening, but to your credit, you held your own with decent resilience considering how timid you seemed upon your first meeting. in spite of the occasional falter at his words, you continued to only show kindness towards him.

he’d never, ever, admit it out loud but he does feel a little guilty at how you just take his words without complaint. he had expected some form of resistance or annoyance from you, yet you only met his words with a laugh or simply ignoring it, leaving him feeling unexpectedly unsettled. also slightly questioning your self esteem.

just as he was contemplating bringing the date to a close, you suddenly bow your head with a smile on your face. one that really captivated sae because of the actual, sheer sincerity in it.

“thank-you, sae, i mean it. you’ve been very nice to me considering i’ve just been talking your ear off this whole time, so thanks for that. i liked today a lot.”

with your words hanging in the air, sae was at a loss for how to respond. what was he supposed to do after hearing that? not decide right there and then that he wanted to give you the entire world and more? (I’M SO SORRY I CANNOT FOR THE LIFE OF ME WRITE SAE WITHOUT HIM BEING EXTREMELY OOC)

unlike the other two, KAISER’s situation can vary a little more. as in, his reasons for needing a pretend relationship can differ depending on anything. it could stem from dissatisfaction from his management, a desire to maintain his image, or simply on a whim. regardless of the reason, you’re stuck with him one way or another.

his overconfident demeanor can be jarring at times, even though you thought you had steeled yourself for it beforehand. it doesn’t seem to disappear even when the two of you are alone together; which by common sense, should be when you’re most comfortable with each other, no? yet, there are also instances when his bravado feels forced, the occasional slip in his facade.

for better or for worse, you hesitated to say anything; not wanting to overstep any boundaries. you weren’t his actual s/o, you were getting paid like the relationship was a career. besides, would someone as arrogant as to call themselves ’emperor’ even want help from you? if you’re the more compassionate type, you may just immediately cave in and try to help. well, even if you aren’t, you’ll find it increasingly difficult to ignore him, ultimately realising he definitely doesn’t plan on seeking help himself.

initially, he adamantly opposes any attempts from you, making it clear he preferred to deal with his troubles alone or that he didn’t need your help. your persistence is slightly alarming to kaiser, whose probably wondering if you’re trying to increase your allowance or something, but he still doesn’t give in (yet).

suppressing a sigh, you turn on your heel after placing a cup of water and a modest plate of food on the coffee table. staying where you're evidently not wanted seems pointless. "try to eat something before heading to bed, kaiser…need anything, just tell me, kay?" the words spill from your mouth almost automatically, probably since they’ve already been said countless times before.

as you take a step forward, a sudden tug on your arm sends you tumbling to the floor. "ow-"

kaiser remains silent, clutching your hand as if it were his lifeline. awkwardly, you place your hand on his shoulder, engaging him in small talk. though he doesn’t respond, he doesn't push you away either. it's progress of sorts, you suppose?

after that, there’s a gradual improvement in your relationship! kaiser appears to be coping better, even seeming happier than before. good for him, you think to yourself.

even so, you figured that your dynamic with each other still wouldn’t change all that much. you’d help him out whenever he needed you to, you’d both continue with your lives as usual. however, fate clearly had other plans.

for starters, he’s much more affectionate in private moments rather than it simply being for the public eye. gone are the days when displays of affection were reserved solely for public appearances. now, it’s like there isn't a day that passes without his presence: resting his head on your shoulder, intertwining fingers, or wrapping his arms around your waist. and then there’s also the random pet names he bestows upon you.

another change would be that kaiser genuinely cares if you’re around or not. attending his matches had become routine to you, necessary to maintain the image of being his supportive significant other but nothing more.

while you had no intention of not going, you couldn't help but notice kaiser's new habit of personally inviting you to his matches. with a smug grin, he would insist on you showing up, emphasising how he wanted you in the crowd, cheering him on. instead of receiving tickets through the usual channels (his manager, mostly), he even took it upon himself to hand-deliver them to you!

with the crowd roaring with excitement, signalling the start of the match was close by, kaiser's gaze finds its way to you. he takes a stride in your direction, his hand reaching out to gently lift your chin to face him.

you meet his eyes, a questioning expression flickering across your features, as he lets out a dramatic sigh. "how cold of you, (name). i mean, a supportive partner would offer a kiss for good luck, wouldn't they?" he says, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

he’s ever so slightly more unbearable like this though. how awful!!

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: Fast-forward two years, and the little Munson clan is celebrating Halloween with some old--and new--faces.

Warnings: allusion to smut, a lil surprise...

WC: 1.2k

A/N: Happy Halloween! A gentle reminder that requests for the TUI universe are officially open. And thank you to @rip-quizilla and @the-unforgivenn for helping me with this little blurb.

Divider credit to @saradika

Autumn has fully settled into Hawkins, Indiana. The sun sets a bit earlier each evening; green leaves become orange, then red, then brown, before fluttering to the ground and being raked into trash bags. A chill hangs in the air, not strong enough to create frost, but enough to warrant a layer of clothing or two.

Lucky for you, your Halloween costume this year is a long-sleeved olive green shirt underneath a sleeveless brown house dress, high socks, and loafers. Warm, cozy, and perfect for pretending to be Misery’s Annie Wilkes.

Eddie strides towards your shared bedroom, a Ghostface mask pushed up atop his mess of curls. He leans against the doorframe and lets out a low wolf-whistle. 

You roll your eyes and grin. “You’re so full of it,” you laugh, adjusting the straps of your dress where they’re twisting on your shoulders. “This is quite possibly the least sexy costume anyone could wear.”

Eddie tuts, pushing off on his bicep and shaking his head. “It’s not the costume; it’s the woman wearing it.” His lips tug upward in a toothy smile. “C’mon, give me a little twirl.” He moves his forefinger in a circular motion to indicate what he wants. 

You oblige, slowly turning and offering a 360-degree view of your outfit. “How do I look?” you deadpan.

“Like you’re killing for two.” He presses a kiss to your lips, his palms resting on your rounded bump just as they have ever since you’d started showing. Now that you’re in your final few weeks of pregnancy, he seems to find an excuse to touch it every spare chance he gets. “You’re sure you’re up for trick-or-treating? If you’re too tired or something, you can hang back. Jeff and I can handle the kids.”

It takes all of your willpower not to let out a disbelieving snort. If the two men are engaged in conversation, Harris and Ettie could be halfway to Timbuktu before they even notice they’re missing. “I’ll be fine,” you reassure him. “Annie Wilkes wore sensible shoes, which certainly helps. Although,” you scrunch up your nose, “these are kind of uncomfortable.”

Eddie peers down at your loafers and immediately bursts into laughter. “Babe…they’re on the wrong feet.” He cradles your face in his hands and brings his lips to the tip of your nose. “Let me fix that for you, okay?” You sit on the bed while he crouches down, slipping off your shoes and placing them on the correct feet. “There ya go.”

“I can’t see over my belly!” You lament with a laugh, holding out your hands so your doting husband can help you up. “Thank you. I promise I’ll be more useful once I’m not pregnant.”

“I think growing a baby is pretty damn useful,” Eddie murmurs, thumb grazing your cheek, “not to mention how goddamn gorgeous you look while you do it,” he adds, a soft growl inflecting his tone. He would ravish you right then and there if Freddy Krueger himself didn’t appear by his side. 

“Is it time for trick-or-treating?”

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie jumps, snapped out of his lovesick stupor in an instant. His hand flies to his chest as his heartbeat steadies. “You scared the hell outta me, Har.” He takes a deep breath before answering his son’s question. “We’ll go as soon as Uncle Jeff and Auntie Viv and Ettie get here.”

Harris nods, the dark gray fedora slipping in front of his eyes. “I wish my baby brother could go with us,” he says with a sigh, swaying his arms back and forth. “When is he gonna be born?”

“Two more weeks until he’s officially due,” you report, gingerly caressing your bump and smiling. Harris has been asking about the baby’s arrival ever since you and Eddie told him he was going to be a big brother. “And then he’ll come trick-or-treating with us next year.”

He beams at this idea, bouncing up and down with enough energy to make you question whether he’s already started eating candy. “I...can’t…wait!” he exclaims, each word more breathless than the last as he acts like a human spring. “Do…you…think…he’ll…like…Skittles?”

Eddie places a hand on Harris’s shoulder to stop his movements. “Baby Brother won’t be able to have Skittles for a long time,” he chuckles, the dimples in his cheeks making an always-welcome appearance, “but if you wanted to share with me, I wouldn’t turn down some peanut M&Ms…”

“Nah, I’m good.” Harris says simply, turning his attention back to your stomach. “It would be kinda cool if he was born on Halloween, though.”

You wrinkle your nose. “But then I wouldn’t be able to trick-or-treat with you tonight,” you point out. 

“Oh. Right.” Harris puts a hand on your bump and speaks directly to it. “You stay put until I get my candy.”

Jeff and his family arrive thirty minutes later, clad in their Winnie-the-Pooh themed costumes. Ettie, held in her mom’s arms, is the titular character. Viv makes the perfect Kanga with a Roo stuffed animal hot-glued in the fabric pouch that stretches over her own bump. 

“That’s a good look for you,” Eddie snorts when Jeff walks in dressed as Eeyore. 

“Right back atcha,” Jeff retorts with a playful smirk. “You’re like a geriatric Ghostface.”

You and Viv share an eye roll at their juvenile banter. “How’re you feeling?” she asks you, strategically ignoring the way Jeff and Eddie are swapping insults. 

“Tired of being pregnant but terrified to give birth.” You laugh as you say it but your words are 100-percent true. As much as you’re ready to have your body back to yourself, delivering a baby is a daunting task. “How about you?” She’s due only one month after you are, and the two of you often commiserate about your respective pregnancies. 

“Exhausted,” she admits, right hand fingers digging into her lower back and massaging it. “Chasing after a two-and-a-half year-old while being almost eight months pregnant is not for the weak.”

Your lips scrunch up sympathetically. “I don’t know how you do it, honestly.” 

As if on cue, Ettie wriggles out of her mother’s grip so she can toddle over to her favorite uncle. Eddie scoops her up, and she greets him with an excited “hi!”

Tears gather at your lash line embarrassingly; the sight of your husband cooing over a young child has your third trimester hormones working in overdrive. You clear your throat and blink them back before anyone can notice. “Who wants to go trick-or-treating?”

Pillowcases in hand, Harris and Ettie cheer loudly as the six–almost eight–of you head out to take on the neighborhood in a conquest for full-size candy bars. You and Viv walk next to them; your husbands lag behind to lock the door.

“You ready to do this with double the amount of kids next year?” Jeff smirks, as Eddie turns the key and jiggles the knob to ensure no one can get it.

Eddie huffs out a laugh. “God, no.” He looks at his long-time friend and grins. “But I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

--

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 13

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: For those who didn't catch my announcement on Monday, I released Part 12 earlier this week! Now, on to a confrontation I think a lot of you have been waiting for...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,200 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted sexual assault. Protective Dean, angst, hurt/comfort.  

Part 13: “Boiling Point”

Usually, Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year.

This holiday was a baker’s dream, and you and your grandmother used to volunteer at the church bake sale every Christmas Eve. Grandpa George had done his best to help you in the years after she died…but you just didn’t have it in you this year.

You considered it an accomplishment that you pulled down some of the decorations from the attic, putting them up around your house, and buying a little four-foot tree (also hauling it into the house yourself). However, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Day, at least.

Sam and Dean had already invited you over to spend it with them. You would have the chance to get to know Eileen better, and you would even get to meet the famous John Winchester…

But you still had one reason to dread the end of the month.

Nick Savage threw a Christmas party every year. It was equal parts celebration and networking, and as a top performer of the sales division, you were expected to come.

The problem was, this time the party was going to be held at his house.

“You can’t just not go?” Andréa asked, shortly before taking a massive bite of her burrito. The two of you were grabbing dinner together after another long day at the office, followed by a movie later.

You’d realized just how much you had missed your best friend.

“Yeah, that’ll be great for me. Josh will get to chat up the whole team and get them clamoring to kiss his dick. Nick will give him the Sales Manager position just to spite me,” you said, while picking at your taco salad. “He keeps pitting us against each other for his own enjoyment, but I swear to God he harps on me the most.”

Andréa frowned. “Are you sure Nick just doesn’t have a thing for you? It sounds like he’s a little boy, picking on a girl he likes.”

You pursed your lips. She still didn’t know the full extent on your boss’s thing with you. You hadn’t told her about the last time Nick cornered you in his office, dangled a promotion in front of you, and basically gave you an ultimatum: sleep with him, or don’t move up in the company.

You hadn’t told anyone, for that matter.

You were just trying to figure out how to not get fired, while still getting compensated for your hard work. Was that too much to ask? 

Apparently, it was.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks about me,” you said vehemently.

It earned your friend’s gaze, and her raised eyebrows. 

“Whoa,” she chuckled. “Easy there, Miss Congeniality. That’ll be sure to earn you the promotion.”

“No, really,” you said. You stabbed into your salad with a fork. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of having to tap dance my entire work life around him. He’s a goddamn child who thinks he can have whatever he wants just because Daddy gave him his own little kingdom!”

Andréa eyed you more with concern. Her hand reached for your arm. Meanwhile, you were forcing slower breaths through your nose.

“You okay?” she asked. “I don’t like the ‘crazy town’ look in your eyes right now.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Just hangry, I guess.”

You took another bite of your food. Andréa gave you a skeptical look, but she let it go for now, with a smirk.

“Yeah, well. Eat a Snickers, bitch. I don’t need you snapping on me again,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh a little. You shoved at her shoulder.

She gripped her own arm in fake panic. “Someone call the cops! This crazy woman just punched me out over a salad!”

You tried to shush her, even though you were giggling. Your head swiveled around in the restaurant, giving apologetic eyes to the people around you.

“Although, $20 for a few sprigs of romaine lettuce and a sliver of chicken? That’s worth punching somebody the fuck out,” she said, throwing down her napkin. “Let’s never come here again.”

“Agreed,” you nodded. “I don’t think they’ll let us back here anyway.”

A few days later, you didn’t want to admit you were stressing out over this night.

“Have I said thank you? Because I mean it. Thank you for taking time off for this,” you said, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in Dean’s blazer.

He looked good in black. It was classic, and the new suit was smart without being “too much” for him. (Sam had taken him to his “suit guy,” as Dean called it.)

Dean grabbed your arms to stop your slightly flustered hands. He smirked down at you as his eyes once again took in your dark red dress. It was simple and sleeveless, but elegant, falling just above the knee. Of course, you had to be wearing the tallest pair of black heels he’d ever seen.

“It’s no sacrifice, believe me,” he replied.

You smiled, but he noticed something behind your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked. “Seems like you don’t really want to go to this thing.”

“I don’t,” you admitted on a sigh. “But my boss will know if I’m not there…I told you about the open Sales Manager position, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded. His smile slid into a frown as he watched you bustle around your room, looking for your purse while you smoothed out the soft waves you’d managed to style your hair in, checking your eyeliner and lipstick too in the mirror.

“As usual, it’s down to me and Josh,” you said. “If I keep my numbers up and use tonight to network with my own team, get the rest of the guys on my side, maybe Nick will see that I’m the right choice.”

Dean came up behind you, resting a hand on your lower back.

“And this manager job…that’s what you want?” he asked.

You turned to him with a questioning look. “Well, yeah. I’ve been working here for five years, busting my ass.”

“And I got no doubt that you’re good at what you do,” Dean said. “But you do know, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that you didn’t have something crap to say about that job, and those people you work with.”

You frowned, and you thought about what he was saying. Sure, you complained about Nick, but did you really talk that much shit about your job?

“Everyone has things they don’t like about their work,” you reasoned. “Even you have your bad days.”

Though he tended to keep those days to himself, you knew when he’d had a tough call at the firehouse. You’d been trying your best to be a listening ear if he needed it, or if not, at least a soothing presence. It was more often the latter with Dean.

He acknowledged your point with a nod. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t know…I just think you’re wasting your talent.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, you’re like…an artist. It’s nothing me, or Sam, or Andréa, or anybody in your life hasn’t told you before,” said Dean. “You went to school to do your dream. And I know life happened. But I also know that when I walk into the firehouse, it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Can you say that when you walk into the Savage building?”

You took in a breath. You understood what he was saying, but as much as you wanted to indulge the fantasy of owning your own business, being your own boss, creating your own menu, and giving people quality baked goods…you had to live in reality here.

Opening a brick-and-mortar business was expensive. And most restaurants, even bakeries, weren’t profitable for at least one to three years. You still had plenty of bills, and not even a car since the accident.

“I’ve invested too much time here to quit, Dean,” you said.

The conversation died there, but it left something new and awkward between you two. You tried to put it out of your mind while he drove you both over to the “filthy fucking rich” side of town, through a massive gate, and into a wide parking lot that had a valet driver waiting. Nick’s ridiculous house was a monument to trust fund kids everywhere. 

Dean reluctantly handed over the keys to the Impala.

“No donuts in the parking lot.” He eyed the 20-something-year-old valet with all due scrutiny. “Trust me, I’ll know.”

You smirked and slipped your arm around his to tug him up the steps, toward the large double doors of the house.

“Come on, Rambo. Baby’ll be fine without you.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean quipped back. Still, he moved his arm out of yours, just to wrap it around your waist and pull you against his side. His lips pressed against your cheek.

“You look sexy as hell,” he said lowly near your ear. “Did I forget to mention that?”

“No.” Your smile deepened. “But doesn’t hurt to mention again. I might just have to reward my boyfriend for humoring me tonight, getting all dapper himself.”

You and Dean made it up to the porch and you knocked on the door. He shot you a raised brow as his lips tugged upwards.

“Oh, yeah? We talkin’ lace or satin?” he asked. His lips brushed your temple.

You pretended to think. “Little of both, actually. It’s new. And it’s red…and I might just be wearing it right now.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. His gaze subtly dragged over your every curve, as if he had x-ray vision to spy through your dress. You maintained an enigmatic smile.

“Oh, you’re diabolical,” he muttered. His hand moved down to playfully squeeze your ass. You had to bite your lip to stifle the sound you made, as that’s when the doors finally began to swing open.

Dean’s hand moved up a respectable few inches, resting on your waist.

You both smiled and greeted the attendant who let you into the house.

A quick text let you know that Benny and Andréa were already here, each holding a flute of champagne. You and Dean met up with them in the huge living room space (which might has well have been a grand hall, for how large it was).

It held 50 people easily, but the party was already spanning the entire house, of at least two stories. It made your house look like a modest Barbie Dream home, without the pool attachment.

And Nick Savage was at the center of it all, greeting each guest and their “plus ones.”

When he spotted your group, he smoothly excused himself from the conversation with Josh and his wife, and headed over to you.

“Incomiiing,” Andréa quietly sing-songed. She sipped her champagne.

You steeled yourself, and you did your best to give a polite smile when Nick arrived with a pleasant “Merry Christmas.” You forced yourself to remain still when his hand fell on your arm, and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand in greeting, followed by Andréa and Benny. 

“Welcome, you guys,” he said, giving you a smile that hid just a hint of a smirk. “Justin let you know where everything is, right? Lotsa drinks, the good stuff, I promise. Plenty of food, hot chocolate and eggnog fountains, if that’s your thing. And a hell of a lot more out back by the pool.”  

“Great, thank you,” you nodded politely.

“All right! Let’s party,” Nick fist-pumped in the air. He pointed towards you and Dean. “You need a drink in your hand, stat.”

“I’m fine for now. Going to wait until I have something to eat first,” you replied. If you were going to get a glass of wine, it wouldn’t be one that Nick handed to you.

He pouted a little, but he looked at Dean next. “How about you, big guy? What you drinkin’?”

Dean shot you a glance, but before he could respond, Nick interrupted.

“You look like a whiskey guy. Am I right?” he asked.

Dean inclined his head. “Guilty.”

“Perfect. See? I’ve got an instinct for people,” Nick said, tossing you a wink as he headed for the nearby bar. “I’ll be back. You crazy kids relax and have fun.”

You had to admit, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. But who the hell said crazy kids under the age of 45?  

“He’s uh…got pep,” Benny remarked.

Andréa snorted and tapped her glass. “He’s a few shots in already.”

“You think?” Dean asked.

You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes. If there was one thing you could count on, it was for Nick Savage to be drinking.

“He knows how to act when everyone’s watching,” you said. 

You looked up at the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive artwork on the walls, not noticing how Dean glanced at you with the edge of a frown.

At the very least, the food was excellent. It was served in a large back room that served as a banquet hall, meant for entertaining.

There you and Dean actually had a good time, with you sipping on red wine and Dean on a glass of the “good stuff,” all while playing cards with Andréa and Benny and a few of your coworkers on the sales team.

“I just can’t believe Adam quit, to join our main competitor, no less,” said Marv. “I had absolutely no idea he was thinking of leaving.”

He was the team gossip. He prided himself on knowing every coming and going on the sales floor, which confounded you, since Marv was also a bit of a hermit. He either kept to his office like it was a bomb shelter, or you could catch him in the break lounge grabbing yet another coffee, all the while keeping his ear perked up for scraps of conversation.

“Yeah, you did, Marv,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re the one who saw Adam’s resignation letter on his own desk.”

He hadn’t even handed said letter to Nick yet.

“Well, I knew it then, obviously,” Marv said, with his hands open wide. “It leaves us without a manager…which I think, not for long.”

His eyes met yours knowingly.

You smiled. “We’ll see. I think Josh is playing kiss-ass tonight.”

You turned your head and spotted Nick and Josh taking shots of tequila together at the bar, with the latter wincing at the burn with a lime peel in his mouth. Josh’s wife was sitting off to the side, rolling her eyes.

Your gaze focused on your boss for a moment. You shook your head at the state of him, with a loose tie and the top buttons undone on his shirt, laughing boisterously and egging Josh on.

Fucking frat bros.

“That’s your boss, huh?” Benny remarked.

“In all his Cuervo-stained glory,” Marv replied. He shook his head as well.    

It made you realize something.

As nice a time as you’d been having, for about an hour at most, your good mood soured the moment you were reminded of the office politics. Of Josh and Nick and everything in between. Was this really what you wanted for the rest of your career?

The rest of your life?

Maybe Dean was right, you thought. You knew you were good at your job. You knew you were fortunate to even have a job that paid your bills…but maybe “being good” wasn’t enough for you.

If there was one thing you’d learned from your grandfather’s death, it was that peace was precarious. And sacrificing too many parts of yourself, for money, wasn’t a fulfilling life or even a happy one.

You wanted to be happy. You also wanted peace.

So you leaned over and laid a hand on Dean’s, which rested on the round table.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His head bowed near yours. “Hmm?”

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked. He raised his brows at you.

“Really? I thought you needed to stay and schmooze with your people,” he replied.

You smiled and drew your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I think I’m done.”

Dean looked a bit confused. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. And you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth. “You were right. It’s not worth it.”

A flicker of a smile began to tug at his lips, but his brows drew together.

“Hey. Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t bow out just because of me—”

Your hand tightened on his wrist.

“No, baby. It’s me. My choice,” you said. “Let me just use the restroom real quick, and we can go.”

Dean nodded, and you stood.  

“What, are you leaving?” Andréa asked. She was tucked into Benny’s side with a piece of red velvet cake poised on her fork. “You didn’t even finish your cake!”

You laughed. Turning down dessert was a big deal for you, but you’d live.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I just need to call it a night, but I’ll be back in a sec to say goodbye. Hold on.”

Andréa blew out a breath as you walked away from the table.

“She’s gonna miss the White Elephant gift exchange. Last year, someone got a 60” smart TV,” she said.

Benny whistled.

“I wouldn’t mind an upgrade,” he said. He shot Dean a glance. “What do you think the guys would do if we showed up with something like that to the station?”

Dean scoffed. “I think the Chief would have a damn conniption.”

Bobby was old-school. He thought they had enough distractions from the job as it was.

“Probably right,” Benny chuckled.

Andréa smiled in amusement. But her eyes clocked the way Nick glanced your way as you walked by, down the hall and to the right. She sipped at her glass of pinot grigio to wash down the rich cake.

Still, she discreetly watched the man down another shot before he took his leave of the bar. He laughed at something Josh said and waved him off.

She gave Nick credit for not stumbling on his feet, and only swaying slightly on the same path you took down the hall. It didn’t mean he was following you, necessarily. This house was like a small Smithsonian. And yet, something niggled in the back of her mind. 

Andréa remembered how you’d acted at dinner the other day when talking about Nick. And how drained you’d seemed lately when she saw you after work. She’d thought that was just about finding your way after George’s death…

Marv distracted her with a question as Dean and Benny continued to talk, and she answered him with her usual charm. But she kept one eye on the hallway, waiting for you to come back.

She made it about another minute before she turned to Benny and Dean, leaning in close.

“Hey, Dean,” she said. “Maybe you want to check on her? She’s taking a while.”

Dean didn’t look concerned as he checked his watch. It hadn’t been all that long, but he still pulled out his phone to text you.

“She left her purse here,” Andréa said. She started to get up out of her seat. “I’m just gonna go see if she’s okay.”

Benny grabbed her hand before she left the table.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked. 

“I’m not sure,” she said, but she met Dean’s confused gaze. “Okay, look. I’ve been noticing some things with her recently. I have no evidence except for how well I know that woman, but something’s off with her. It happens every time she talks about that asshole Nick.”

Dean’s brows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines.

“What’re you saying exactly?” he asked.

Andréa let out a breath. “I’m saying, I’ve got a bad feeling.”

You hummed as you washed your hands in the bathroom. Wine runs right through me. I should know better.

You’d also been trying to quell your anxieties and just get through the night. But you realized now that there was no kind of calm like the peace you had, now that you knew what you needed to do. Starting tomorrow, you were going to start looking for a new job.

A knock at the door made you jolt slightly.

“Someone’s in here!” you called without looking over your shoulder. You finished washing your hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging on a silver wall rack.

The door cracked open, but before you could protest, a man stumbled in.

Of fucking course it was Nick Savage.

“Excuse me?!” you breathed in shock. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed the door closed and seemed to take notice of you for the first time. He smirked.

“Oh, hey,” he said. Somehow, he was only slurring a little. He straightened his white blazer. The black satin shirt he wore was wrinkled and he smelled heavily of tequila, and that was with a couple of feet of distance between you two.

Your shock finally melted into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Gotta take a leak. It’s my house after all,” he shrugged, leaning a hand on the wall closest to the door for balance.

You shook your head, and with a huff, you tried to get by him.

His hand wrapped around your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”

You shoved his hand off of you.

“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”

Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge. When you reached for the doorknob again, he grabbed your arm and shoved you hard into the nearest wall.

You gasped as the air rushed out of your lungs. Before you even realized what was happening, you felt his clammy hands on your bare shoulders, his hot alcoholic breath on your face. You raised your hands in defense, pushing against his chest.

He was taller and stronger and pinned you harder against the wall, with his knee shoving its way between your legs. You stared up with wide eyes of fear, and his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.

Your nails bit into his arm and wrist, trying to peel back his sweaty hand, just an inch to free your voice and let you breathe. To your left you heard the door bang open.

Please—

And the hand was peeled away entirely.

You could only blink and watch as Dean barreled through, grabbing Nick and bodily hurling him away. Nick opened his mouth to spout something angrily, but Dean continued to stalk forward and grab the man again.

Nick attempted a lazy swing at Dean’s head, but he bat it away. His fist connected roughly with Nick’s face, snapping his head back with a cry.

It was almost too fast for you to track what was happening right in front of you, but Dean dragged the drunkard the rest of the way across the bathroom, even over the tub, and slammed him against the beige tile so hard that it knocked a few of them loose. Nick’s head smacked audibly against them and he groaned at the impact.

The men were around the same height, but Dean was honed by years of firefighting and fueled by rage. One hand gripped high on Nick’s collar, while his arm pressed against the man’s chest. Then into his throat.

“Give me a reason,” Dean said, in a voice much calmer than he felt. Behind his eyes was wildfire.

“What?” Nick choked.

You finally broke through enough of your shock to know you had to do something.

“Dean!” you uttered. You cautiously went to him, but he glanced at you over his shoulder in warning.

“Stay there,” he told you firmly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, even though your voice shook. “Let’s just go.”

Despite the blood dripping down from his likely bruised nose, Nick chortled a laugh. It earned Dean’s slow head turn, returning his attention to the decision at hand. His fist tightened in Nick’s shirt.

“You heard me,” Dean said. His voice was laced with steel. “I said give me a reason not to break your miserable fucking neck.”

“Dean,” you gasped.

“Not sure that’s a good idea, fireman,” Nick slurred. “I clearly don’t have all my wits about me right now. Can’t be held lia…li-ble for my actions, now can I? I’ll have your badge by end of the week.”

You let out a harsh breath and finally went to Dean. You laid a hand on his back. Every muscle was tense and straining under his white dress shirt.

“Dean,” you pressed. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

Nick smirked lazily in Dean’s face. It was the look of a man who was used to getting his way.

“I’d listen to her,” he said, with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Or I could just fire her on Monday. Make it easy on myself.”

Dean seethed. His forearm slowly rolled harder into the man’s neck, pressing on his windpipe. The sounds of choked air were satisfying.

“Yeah, or I’ll have the police down here in ten minutes or less,” said Dean. “I’ll clue you in on a little something. My dad’s a cop. I’ll reckon he’ll be happy to put a fucking douchebag like you in the can with the real charmers.”

Dean gave a mocking glance to Nick’s silk shirt, his gold pinky ring and loafers.

“How long do you think it’ll take for one of ‘em to make you their little bitch?” Dean said.

Nick glared back at him, with a frisson of intimidation behind his eyes. He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dean noticed and tightened his hold.

“Don’t you look at her, you piece of shit!” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous. “Make your choice. You gonna come down to the station easy, or difficult? Please say difficult.”

Nick held up placating hands. He shifted uncomfortably against the wall; one foot was planted on the ground while the other was in the tub. The shower curtain was half off its hooks.

Dean eased up enough for Nick to take a breath.

“Okay, let’s say we do that,” he said, with a cough. “I’ll get bail. Then I’ll fucking walk, ‘cause I own this town.” 

“You mean your dad does,” you snapped.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Same name, same shit, sweetheart.”

Dean grit his teeth and tightened his grip again in warning. You wrapped your hand around his arm, but he didn’t budge.

Nick met his eyes.

“How about this. Get your greasy fucking hands off me, and we’ll call tonight a wash,” he proposed. “No foul, we all take our balls and go home.”

He then snorted at his own joke. “Balls…”

Dean tilted his head, but didn’t move a muscle. “Or?”

Once again, Nick smirked.

“I’ll report you to your boss for assaulting me in my own house. And uh, she’ll be fired, obviously.” He shrugged. “By the time my lawyers get done with her, she won’t be able to sling lattes at Starbucks.”

Dean’s face was stony, tight with outrage. His whole body was coiled like a spring as every cell in his body fought against ripping this man apart.

But he still felt your hands around his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Dean, don’t. He’s not worth your career. Please,” you begged.

The bathroom door pushed open again, and he heard Benny’s voice.

“Hey, brother.” He dropped a careful hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, now. You got him. Ease up now.”

Dean’s teeth ground together. He looked down, and his stare bored into Nick’s. Dean pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat again, enough to almost feel the give as the man struggled for breath.

“Remember how that feels,” Dean said icily. “20579, Dean Winchester. The next time you want to threaten my badge, that’s my number.”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly. At the time, Dean took it as fear. But really, it was recognition.

Winchester, Nick thought.

Dean then leaned in closer, so only Nick would hear his next lowered words.

“First and last warning,” Dean said. “If you touch her again. If I hear anything more about you giving her a hard time, not a dime in the world is gonna save you from me.”

When Dean finally pulled his arm away and let go, Nick’s face was red and spluttering as he coughed and slumped into the bathtub.

Dean turned on his heel in anger and disgust. Andréa was supporting you with her arm around yours, but she released you to let Dean take over. You stared up at him with tearful eyes, and you reached for his hand.

He took it with his left, holding you steady. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the bathroom.

The air was tense and silent inside the Impala. It was a long drive back to your house, and Dean hadn’t looked at you once in 20 minutes. His gaze was firmly on the road. He hadn’t even turned on the radio.

You had his suit jacket draped around your frame, but your insides still felt cold. You glanced over at him and stared at his profile for a moment, wishing you knew what to say to break the silence. To reassure him that you were fine. (Even though it would've been a lie.)

He felt your stare and turned his head towards you.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked. His voice was gruff. “Andréa said she’s been noticing something off about you for a while.”

Your lips pressed together. “Can this part wait until we get home…please?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, but he turned back to the road ahead.

The car was silent for the rest of the hour.

It was a relief to turn the key into the door lock and step through the threshold of your house. Dean followed you inside and tossed his wallet and car keys on the side table by the door.

Somehow he always managed to miss the little basket you put there for exactly those things, but you weren’t about to remind him.

You slipped off your heels and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, to steady yourself. Dean leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but you still felt his eyes on you.

With a sigh, you turned and met his gaze.

“Just tell me,” he said. “How long?”

You took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“It started before I even met you, Dean.” 

His brows raised high. He tilted his head at you as incredulous anger tightened his face.

“What?” he said. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “Okay, come here.”

You led him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. You explained that it started small, with compliments on your clothes, your hair. Then it was lingering looks, “innocent” brushes of his hand, touching your arm, your shoulder.

When you’d tried to put distance between you and Nick, the drunken shenanigans began. The comments grew heinous and sickening, and so did his threats.

And nothing you did worked. Not distance and professionalism. Not refusing his advances outright. Not threatening to go to HR.

All while you spoke, Dean was quiet, but on edge. You saw it in how he gripped his knee, with his other hand fisted against his mouth, elbow resting on his thigh.

But the hardest part of the conversation came when you told Dean about the day of the car accident—how Nick had demanded you come to his office and gave you a sickening ultimatum.

At that, Dean could no longer remain still. He got up and started to pace across the living room. He was a man of action, you knew, and his reaction was almost everything you’d feared.

I should've told him, you thought. You knew.

Although you now felt relieved, even in your guilt, you also knew this next part wasn’t going to be fun either. Because Dean finally erupted.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked.

Briefly, you closed your eyes. “No.”

“Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His hand buried itself in his hair as his jaw clenched. Even if your friend Andréa hadn’t known, she’d still seen enough to suspect something. It completely blew his mind, in the worst of ways.

“Jesus Christ!” he shook his head. “Why am I always the last one to know when something’s going on with you?”

Tears watered in your eyes as you looked up at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I mean, really. What are we doing here, huh?” he exclaimed, his hands open wide. “Honestly, tell me. Because if you can’t trust me, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Your eyes widened, a trill of panic lacing down your spine. You stood up and went to him. 

“Dean, please, it wasn’t about that,” you said. You implored him with your eyes to understand. “I wanted to tell someone…God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you. But I knew how you’d react. Just like this. I didn’t want to make the situation worse!”

He frowned deeply. “You didn’t want help? You didn’t want me to protect you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you snapped. But then, you sucked in a shaking breath, trying to calm yourself. You got closer and rested a hand against his chest.

“Of course I’m grateful that you protected me. Dean, I love you for it.”

You grasped the ends of his jacket with both hands. All you really wanted to do was bury yourself in his warmth and sleep for the next ten years. You were still raw and frayed inside.

Dean looked down at you, and his heart clenched. He couldn’t help but hold you back. His arms wound around your lower back as he pulled you against him. His chin rested above your head, and you sighed in relief.

“I thought I could handle it,” you confessed, in a smaller voice. “I worked so damn hard…I wanted to fight for my job. But Nick knew I didn’t have the money or the resources to fight back for real if I reported him, or even if I sued him. And before tonight, I didn’t have enough to take to the police.”

Dean pulled away just enough to see your face. He grasped your arms, gentle but firm.

“I’ll take you to the station right now,” he said. “My dad can help you. Hell, Sam can help you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head.   

“You heard him, Dean. With his money and connections, he’ll get off. And then he’ll make both of our lives hell,” you said. “He’ll go after your badge—”

“He can fucking try,” he snapped.

“Stop, okay? I don’t want that,” you pleaded.

A sharp breath escaped through his nose, and he let you go.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he said. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”

He was beside himself with frustration, and even hurt. You knew it in the way he tried to walk away from you, but you reached for his arm to stop him, with tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his support. That you didn’t trust him.

Because that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.

“I’m sorry!” Your tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You tugged him back towards you, earning his furrowed glance. “I was…scared. I…I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it at all.”

The longer Dean looked at your face, the more he crumbled.

Once again, he turned to gather you back into his arms. And there your tears fell in earnest. Your body trembled with quiet sobs, and he held you tighter. His heart broke a little more as his hand soothed over your hair. He shushed you more gently, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, let alone for this damn long,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward for a moment as he mentally kicked himself. You didn’t deserve this, or his anger either. 

He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed any signs, like Andréa had. All these months… It threatened to drive him up a fucking wall.

“You’re safe, and I’ve got you,” he said, continuing to hold you securely against him. “We’ll handle this, like everything else.”

After a moment, you nodded, letting out another shaky breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into his chest.

You already knew you must’ve looked a state, after the night you’d had, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara and lipstick smudged, hair disheveled, tears staining your cheeks.

Ugh. You hastily scrubbed your face clean with makeup wipes. Then you tamed your hair, brushing through the frizz and calming it back into relative normalcy.

You went for the zipper of your dress next, but you couldn’t get it down all the way. You turned to look over your shoulder.

“Dean,” you called. 

He was in your room, rifling through his bag to grab the clothes he’d brought to sleep in.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Come ‘ere a sec?”

He obliged you, drawing into the bathroom. His white dress shirt was only half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. You met his eyes in the mirror.

“Can you unzip me?” you asked.

Dean looked down where your hands were holding both sides of the zipper on your dress. He took one side from you and unzipped it the rest of the way, stopping at the small of your back. He caught sight of the red, sheer lingerie underneath.

Noticing the way he paused, you smiled slightly. You turned toward him and tugged the dress down the rest of the way, so he could see the rest of the ensemble. It was a simple corset-style nightie, but true to your word, the lace was paired with satin trim lines.

Your hands ran up his sternum and undid the last buttons on his shirt. You grasped near his collar and leaned up on your toes for a slow kiss. Dean unconsciously held you to him by your shoulders, his eyes closing at the feel of you.

But when they next opened, he caught sight of the bruise on your shoulder. It was about the size of a thumbprint.

His throat tightened. After a moment, he parted from you, but he didn’t continue where you left off. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Baby?” you asked.

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer you; couldn’t even articulate what the hell was in his head. So he just turned and went back into the room for his change of clothes. It left you frowning, bereft, and worried.

You changed into an old shirt and some shorts before you got into bed. You slipped under the covers and watched Dean. He sat with his back to you as he unclipped his watch and set it down on the nightstand. By now he’d changed into his faded, gray Lawrence Fire Department shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Your throat constricted with emotion, namely with anxiety.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Dean paused. He glanced back at you, saw you laying there with a hand gripped into the covers. His brows furrowed when he saw your shining tears.

He turned and got into bed with you. He slid his arm under your head and wordlessly encouraged you to come closer. His free hand soothed across your arm.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said at last. But he was still upset, and deeply unsettled. As the night replayed in his mind, he knew that at the root of his fury, there was fear. 

“I just keep thinking,” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t called out of work tonight.”

You looked down at that. You laid a hand on his chest.

“I wouldn’t have gone to the party,” you said. Though if you were honest with yourself, you probably would’ve thought yourself safe with Benny and Andréa. “I just…I really didn’t think he would try to—”

You tried to take a breath to steady yourself, but it was a tremulous release. The memory flashed behind your eyes, the remnants of panic and fear under your skin.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Dean’s hand was caressing your cheek, brushing away your tears.

“All right, shhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s over,” he said. Once again, he pulled you into his arms and held you close. Guilt hit him between the ribs for upsetting you all over again. “I promise you’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

You did your best to take in deep breaths, letting them out more steadily. Dean wanted to put the matter to bed for tonight. He really did…but he couldn’t help pressing one last thing.

“Just tell me you’re not going back there on Monday, unless it’s to HR,” he said. 

You paused, shook your head a little. You didn’t want to rev him up again, but you knew Nick. 

“He doesn’t make idle threats, Dean,” you reminded him. “But there’s a reason why he waited until tonight, at his house. He’s not going to try his luck at the office, where everyone’s watching.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean retorted.

You saw his point, but you almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to quit.

“I still need my job, for now,” you said. “But I will start looking for something else, so I can get out as soon as possible. I promise.”

Dean wasn’t happy. Both of you knew it. You also sensed that he wanted to argue more, but was holding back for now. You appreciated that.

You truly didn’t want to get into it anymore with him. You just wanted to close your eyes and try to forget about tonight, knowing that you’d fail. 

Dean still held you, with his hands rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you managed to fall asleep. 

AN: Dean knows, and it ain't pretty. What did you think of the confrontation? Unfortunately, I'm drawing from real events here (not myself).

Next Time:

The mystery of "Azazel" thickens, Dean deals with another tricky fire, and the reader has a realization of her own...

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

Keep Reading: PART 14

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[tangledupinyellow]

When I Get Home | Javier Peña X F!Reader

authors note: A part two of Unexpected Phone Calls that you can find right here! Thank you so much for this ask for requesting this! Absolutely love writing for Javier, that man is too damn fine if I must say so myself

summary: Javier promised to destroy that pussy of yours when he gets home. He’s always been a man of his word…

warnings/tags: 18+, no use of y/n, dirty talk, reader calling Javi “papi”, nicknames (sweetheart, hermosa, cariño), oral (m receiving), face fucking, some hair pulling, slight spanking, praise kink, creampie, aftercare

word count: 2.7k

After hanging up the phone with Javier, you could barely focus on anything else. You were more eager than ever to have him come through the door and have him take you right then and there on the living room couch. There was no way you would be able to get any sleep now, let alone any rest.

You wished that time could go by faster, that you wouldn’t have to wait any longer. The hands on the clock would spin around until your boyfriend came home. 

You never thought of yourself as an impatient person before, but you’ve never been so needy for another before you met Javier. You never knew that it was possible to feel so attached to another being. But now, five minutes felt like two hours, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to wait.

Deciding to kill some time, you took a shower to wash yourself off after you restored to touching yourself while calling Javi. You also chose to wear a sexy pair of light pink lingerie for him to see when he returned home. You thought that he deserved it after all. You could only assume that he was left at work sweating at the idea of fucking you when he got off from work. The idea of it made you smirk, knowing that you could have such an effect on him even when you weren’t in his physical presence.

But when you laid back down on the couch, it turned out that you only killed an hour of time. Letting out a groan, you rubbed your eyes and leaned back. Javier had to work more overtime than you initially thought.

However, it must have been your lucky night. You were only lying down on the couch for five minutes before you heard the front door open and close, followed by the jingle of keys and the sound of him fumbling to take his jacket off.

Your heart immediately picked up in pace as you sat up on the couch, eager for him to walk by and catch sight of you. You’ve thought of nothing but what he said to you for the entire night before he hung up the phone…

“I’m absolutely going to destroy that pussy when I get home from work.”

You were just hoping that he was a man who could keep his promise. Your pussy throbbed every time you replayed those words in your head. And you’ve already replayed them over and over again.

Javier groaned and rubbed his eyes before walking into the living room, clearly exhausted from the long day he experienced at work. You felt your disappointment come in when you saw him, thinking he was much too tired to do anything tonight and would just want to head straight to bed despite how worked up you’ve been all night.

But your hope rose once again when he saw you sitting on the couch in the lingerie you had specially picked out just for tonight. His hand slowly lowered from his face to get a better look at you, his eyes scanning you up and down.

“Goddamn..” was muttered from his lips, his eyes completely glued to you.

You smirked and bit your lips at his reaction, especially when you saw the bulge that was clearly straining in his too-tight jeans, just begging to be taken care of. 

“Long day at work?” You whispered, your voice sultry yet trying to keep that hint of innocence.

Javier chuckled shortly and pinched the bridge of his nose, “You have no idea, mi amor.” He shook his head and went to catch another glimpse of you.

“Too tired to keep your promise?” You drew your voice out and put on a little pout for show.

“My promise?” Javier raised an eyebrow, a start of a smirk appearing on the corner of his lips. You and Javi both knew that he was acting oblivious. He wanted to hear those exact words coming out of your lips.

“That you would destroy me when you got home.” You smirked, looking him up and down, lingering a moment longer on the place you needed the most, right between his legs.

Javier groaned when he heard you, “That’s what I like to hear..” he spoke under his breath and took off his belt with a speed you’ve never seen from him before. 

You watched with anticipation, your pussy getting wetter and needier every second he wasn’t inside you.

“Even dressed up for me? How kind of you, cariño.” He smiled smugly while taking off his pants, his bulge even more prominent now through his boxers, not leaving much to the imagination.

“Just for you..”

A groan let his lips from deep in his throat, your simple words turning him on even more.

“I’ve been thinking about you all damn night,” He hummed with a shake of his head, slowly starting to approach you on the couch. You just leaned back and enjoyed the sight, “About that gorgeous little pussy of yours... How it would feel to be deep inside of you..” He could barely contain the excitement in his voice.

You had to squeeze your legs together, looking up at him as he stood above you, taking off his shirt to reveal his chiseled chest and arms. Those arms… the ones you could imagine him pinning you down on the couch with while he fucks you mercilessly.

“Then fuck me.” You were short and clear with what you wanted. You’ve been waiting for him all night. You didn’t want to have to wait any longer than you had to.

You didn’t need to ask him twice.

Javier quickly joined you on the couch and pulled you into his lap, his hands resting on your lower back, “My pretty girl…” He whispered, his hot breath hitting the back of your ear as he caressed your hips lightly with the tip of his fingers. Shivers were sent down your spine, craving even more of his touch. 

“God, I need you to fuck me.” You whimpered, shifting in his lap at his touch.

His light and gentle touch quickly took a 180 as he took off your one-piece lingerie with quick and swift movements, desperate to see how you looked underneath as if he were seeing it for the first time.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He glanced your body up and down, his hands finding a firm grip on your hips, his thumbs rubbing slow circles into your skin.

You hummed in response and hovered your lips over his, waiting for him to make the first passionate move.

He parted his lips, his lower lip grazing against yours, “On your knees, cariño.” He demanded softly, the dominance in his voice giving you a tingling sensation in all the right places.

You pulled back slightly to look at him and smirked, seeing the lust darkening in his eyes. Seeing the look of want in his eyes got you so turned on you were on your knees in an instant.

Javier smirked as he watched you and pulled you in closer to him between his legs. Slowly, you took off his boxers, the only thing left covering him up. His boxers dropped down to his knees, his cock hard and leaking with precum, just begging for any sort of attention.

You could already feel yourself drooling at the sight, thinking about how it would feel not only in your mouth, but fucking you hard in your pussy as well.

He didn’t let you linger a moment longer before grabbing your hair from the back of your head with a gentle yet firm grip to pull you closer to him. His tip pressed up against your mouth, his precum smearing against your soft lips. He tugged at your hair a little more, silently requesting you to open your mouth and please him as he wished.

You parted open your mouth, slowly taking his tip in. You automatically closed your eyes, moaning against him at the feeling. Javier groaned from the vibration of your moan and rubbed the back of your head approvingly.

His large hand stayed upon the back of your hand, guiding your mouth around his cock just the way he wanted. You swirled your tongue around his tip slowly, savoring his taste.

You opened your eyes once more to stare directly up at him, watching the way he stared right back down at you with lust-clouded eyes. He pressed his lips together and groaned quietly when he caught eyes with you, biting down on his lip, “Just like that…” He hummed out and pulled you in closer to get more of him inside your warm mouth.

He slowly started to thrust into your mouth, his hand never leaving your head, “Taking me so well, hermosa.” He praised in a whisper, followed by a breathy moan.

Leaning his head back, his eyes fluttered shut while he slowly pumped into your mouth. Your eyes were shut once more, trying to focus on taking as much of him in your mouth as you could. Drool slowly started to spill from your chin, his whole shaft nearly in your mouth. With one final thrust, testing the waters to see how deep you could go, he pulled your head back by your hair, a vacant feeling now in your mouth.

“Take my cock so fucking good.” He grinned, gently holding your arm to lead you back up to your feet. He pulled you in closer to him and smirked, now skin to skin with you. You were so close to him that you could feel his heart beating in his chest.

He licked his lips, moving his hand down slowly to your pussy, swiping one finger through your lips, a satisfied groan leaving his lips as he did so. You were utterly soaked just from sucking his dick.

Sucking his finger in between his lips, his eyes bore into yours. Removing his finger from his mouth, he gently tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and leaned in close, his soft lips tickling your sensitive skin.

“Get on that couch, pretty girl…” Javier whispered in your ear, giving you a quick slap on the ass to move you closer to the couch.

With an excited laugh, you lay down on the couch, completely naked, just eager for him to start fucking you. His cock crying out at this point, precum and spit all over his cock, just craving to be inside of you. You could only imagine how he had this hard-on the whole night when he was in the office, just waiting to fuck the shit out of you.

He stroked himself slowly, taking a moment to appreciate you, the way you looked on the couch. It was as though you were an angel sent down for the heavens, just for him. 

He slipped his shirt over his head and followed you on the couch, now hovering over you. His dark hair fell before his eyes as he looked down at you, absolutely memorized by every little detail in your face and body. The man has never been more in love than he was with you.

“Tell me what you want, cariño.” Javier mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear him.

“I need you to fuck me, papi...” You grinned, knowing the reaction you would get out of him by just one simple word.

Javier groaned and held onto your hips before thrusting into you slowly, not wanting to waste another second without being inside you. You moaned at the feeling of him slowly filling you up, the feeling that you’ve been craving ever since you had that phone call with him earlier in the evening. It was just as sensational as you had imagined it would be. 

“Say it again.” Javier ordered with a quiet grunt.

“Fuck me, papi…”

“Again.” He demanded.

“Papi…”

With a low growl, Javier held onto your hips tightly and quickened the pace of his thrusts. You never would have thought that calling him that would get such a reaction out of him, but you loved how much it had affected him. It definitely did you a favor as well.

He was holding onto you so tightly that you could feel his nails dig down into your skin, making sure you would stay on the couch, right where he wanted you.

“Fuck, you’re perfect…” Javier moaned quietly in your ear, picking your ear lobe between his teeth, his hot breath against your sensitive skin. His thrusts kept at a rhythmic pace as he placed a kiss right below your ear. The gentle kisses were a noticeable difference, with his hands gripping your skin tightly. You knew that there would definitely be marks there when he was done with you. Knowing that information turned you on even more, if possible.

All you could reply with was a moan. You felt unable to use your words, completely focused on his cock and how it felt pounding inside of you.

“I’m not going to last long, hermosa…” Javier said, a mix between a moan and a whimper.

He was built up for hours, just waiting for this moment that he could be inside of you. He had been at work with a hard-on, precum dripping down his legs at the thought. It wasn’t surprising that he wouldn’t last too long once he finally got his way with you. After all, he had been fantasizing about it ever since you gave him that naughty little phone call.

“Me neither, fuckkk..” You moaned, eyes closed as you focused on the feeling, getting tingly down below. You knew that your orgasm was creeping up on you.

Just like Javier, you had been built up for hours. You felt like you were unbelievably wet for an unbelievable amount of time, just waiting for him to be inside of you. Both of you were in desperate need of one another.

“Come for me, come for me, sweetheart.” Javier panted in your ear, keeping his thrusts at a pace that he knew you loved, seeing your reaction.

With your eyes squeezed shut, you held onto his shoulders tightly, holding onto him almost as hard as he was to you as you felt your orgasm wash over you. You leaned your head back and moaned out his name loudly, “Fuck!”

“That’s it, that’s my good girl…” Javier praised and kept thrusting into you as you got through your orgasm, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and rubbing your hips to ease you through it, “Doing so well for me..”

Just those words made you feel like you could orgasm a second time, his sweet praises in your ear, letting you know that you are all his.

Javier kissed your jaw soothingly as he continued to thrust, chasing after his own orgasm while you came down from your own.

“You make me feel so good hermosa..” Javier moaned, his words getting breathier and choppier, letting you know that he was getting closer to his own finish, “F-Fuck yes... That’s it… yes…” He groaned and shut his eyes, digging his nails into your hips once he hit his finish.

Hot streams of cum filled you up as he pumped inside of you, trying to get as deep inside of you as he possibly could to fill you up.

Your eyes were still closed, trying to come back down from your high. Breathing heavily, you slowly looked back over at him and couldn’t help but smile at his disheveled look. His hair was in his face, his cheeks red, looking like he had just finished some intense training.

Slowly pulling out of you, you groaned quietly at the feeling of being empty. You scooched over to make room for him on the couch as he squeezed himself in between you and the back of the sofa.

“You’re so beautiful… Been waiting for you all day…” Javier whispered, his voice soft and sweet as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in close to his naked body.

You let out a satisfied hum and moved your body closer to his, cherishing the warmth of his body. When you couldn’t sleep before, now you felt like you could fall asleep right in his arms.

“I love you so much, cariño,” Javier whispered in your ear, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, “And just know, feel free to call me when I’m at work whenever you want…”

You could practically hear the smirk behind his voice.

You chuckled, “Already planning on it.”

[crazyk-imagine]

Mended Relationships and the Future

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Fem!reader Characters: Fem!reader, Ted Lasso, Coach Beard, Keeley Jones, Jamie Tartt, Rebecca Welton, Isaac Mcadoo, Colin Hughs, Sam Obisanya, Dani Rojas, Jan Maas, Roy Kent, literally all of the players (I just can’t think of their names) Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, cursing, mentions of pregnancies, mentions of reader not taking care of themselves (don’t do this), Jamie being sweet, reader and Jamie being dummies for a second, the team being so goddamn adorable, the team gives such family vibes, Jamie pretending the reader and he are engaged so he can stay with her, Ted and Beard are a powerful duo, this is my favorite TL fic that I’ve written Word Count: 3,783

A/N: Bits and pieces are based on this post

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

You walk into the coach’s office with your hands in your hoodie pocket, clutching onto your phone to keep your hands busy. "Why did you wake me up and force me here, Ted?" 

"That's not a can-do attitude." 

Your expression doesn't change, if anything, you look more tired and drained. Another reason why the mustached man got you out of your home. "Ted." 

He sighs. "I wanted to check in on you, haven't seen you in a minute." 

You sigh. "I would prefer it if I were in my bed right now to be honest with you." 

"After we go out to lunch." 

"I want to be out of here before I run into..." You pause when you almost say his name. "You know what- I'm just- I’m gonna go." You barely turn around and hear the door open. 

It takes you less than a second to duck, which makes Ted feel a little bad but doesn't change his mind. 

He knows you two need to talk, especially when neither of you want to admit who broke up with who... or why it happened. 

Your emotions take a toll on your body again and you crawl towards the trash can, dry heaving until you feel it coming up (again). 

Beard kindly closes the door before anyone could walk in or hear you as Ted rubs the space between your shoulders. 

"How long have you been feeling like this?" 

You shrug. 

"How long?" He asks again. 

"A few weeks." 

Ted glances over at his long-time buddy with wide eyes. "Please don't get upset or take offense when I ask this but have you-" 

'Play dumb. Play dumb.' "Have I what? Use words, my brain isn't functioning off your noises." 

"Is there a possibility that you could be, you know, with child?" 

Your head snaps up. 'He knows.' "Why would you ask that?" 

"You have a few of the signs." 

"When was the last time you went to a doctor?" Beard chimes in. 

"A while ago." 

"So, you know?" 

"Whether or not I'm pregnant with my ex-boyfriend’s baby, who coincidentally told me he doesn't want kids just as I wanted to tell him I do. Yeah, it was right as I was about to tell him I am with child, which is why I've been dodging all of you but you and Beard here," you point to Ted's sidekick, who waves. "Dragged me out of my house." 

"Oh, honey." 

"Does he know?" Coach beard intervenes (again). 

"What do you mean?" 

"You said, you wanted to tell him... did you?" Ted politely asks. 

"He broke up with me, so I didn't give him my surprise, but I tell people it was mutual because he asked me if," the tears roll down your cheeks. "If it was okay. The fucking ex-cockiest player of all, asked me if I was going to be okay, so of course I said yes and then he left. We haven't spoken since." 

"He should know." 

"I know but he is scared to death to have his own kids. Why would I-" You scoot back and rest your head against the wall. "I want to go home. I have a few things coming later today and I need to be there for them. It’s time I start," you take a deep breath. “Getting things ready.” 

"We can get those later, I've gotta make sure you're okay right now." 

"I'd be better if this nausea, vomiting combo would go away." 

"Do you want me to have Keeley get you a ginger ale or something?" 

"Yeah." 

The door opens and there she is. She stares at you with the same look she gives you every time you throw up. "I had a feeling you were going to need this." 

-

Jamie sees what he imagines is a glimpse of you sitting in his coach’s office. He furrows his brows, wondering if it was really, you or if it's a figment of his imagination... again. 

It wouldn’t be the first time this week. 

-

"What?" She practically screams when Ted tells her on behalf of you, the Jamie not knowing part; she already knew you were pregnant, but she thought he knew and decided not to be in either of your lives. Now she feels a little bad about not being nice to him. 

You bury your head in your hands. "Shut up. Don't shout anymore, please." 

"Can you blame me? That's big fucking news babes. I thought he already knew." 

"Yeah, I know. Just, shut the door please." 

She doesn't, so you push yourself up and close the door. 

You sway as you take a step back, “oh, boy.” You can hear their voices but not hear their words. You feel yourself falling backwards before it fades to darkness. 

Ted and Beard catch you, carefully laying you down so the latter can call for an ambulance. 

Jamie steps closer to the office, sensing something’s happened. He opens the door and his jaw dropped as he’s about to ask what's going on until his eyes land on you. 

He immediately falls to his knees beside you, holding your face in his hands, not caring about the rug burn that’s going to ache later. "What happened?" 

No one responds. 

"What fucking happened?" 

Ted doesn't feel he should be the one to tell him and does all that he can to try and calm down his player. "She's fine, she probably didn't have enough to eat for breakfast, is all." 

"Bullshit. She's done that before and never fainted before." He stares down, studying your face. "So, why is she fucking unconscious?" 

-

You don't know anything that happened within the last few hours. 

All you know is that there is an annoying beeping sound coming from the side of you and your one hand is warmer than it normally is. 

You slowly open your eyes, blinking multiple times as you try to adjust to the lighting. You look for the source of the warmth and find Jamie, holding your hand with his head rested on his arm with his head facing you. 

The door opens and you find Ted peaking in. 

The way his shoulder sags in relief makes you feel bad. 

He tiptoes closer and lets you know what happened. 

"Why is he here?" 

He smiles as he peaks over at the sleepy man. "He didn't leave your side." 

"How did he know?" 

"He came in as we were calling for an ambulance. You scared him, he would barely let the paramedics help." 

"Isn't family only allowed in here?" 

"Apparently you two are engaged." 

You owlishly blink. "What?" 

"He said you two were engaged and he needed, no, no. That's not right, he demanded, there it is. He demanded to be in the room with you. I wasn't here for most of it. In the room I mean but I think he knows because he looked very shocked and then came in here when they told him he could and hasn’t left since." 

The coach ignores the fact that your heart monitor spikes as you ask, "he knows?" 

"I think so." 

Jamie moves a little in his sleep. 

"That's my cue to leave." 

"Wait- no. Ted. Come back." You glance between him and Jamie. "Ted," you hiss. "Come back here." 

Jamie squeezes your hand as he slowly begins to wake up. 

You look back at him just in time to hear the door close. You throw your head back and sigh. 

"Sweetheart?" 

You slowly turn your head to stare at him, your eyes becoming sad. 

His shoulders sag in relief as a slow sigh escapes his parted lips. "How are you feeling? I should- I should go get the doctor, shouldn't I?" 

You reach for him, grabbing onto him before he could leave. "Jaim. Jaim?" 

He doesn't turn around but settles back into his seat. 

"Jam-Jam?" 

A sniffle fills the room. 

"Jamie, look at me." 

He shakes his head. You tighten your grip on his arm, ignoring the familiar burning sensation in your nose. "Jamie, I need you to look at me." 

"Why?" He sniffles, staring at you with his now, bloodshot eyes. "Were you ever going to tell me?" 

"Don't throw that question my way, Tartt." 

"No more, Jam-Jam?" 

"I was going to tell you." 

"What? After the birth?" 

"I'm more tempted to now." You wipe the stray tear that tipped past your eye lid before he could see. "I initially planned on telling you right when you broke up with me but, we see how well that turned out." 

“Wh- is that what you had been trying to do the whole time?” 

You nod and lean forward, drawing him into you; needing to comfort him and be comforted all at once. 

He moves closer to you, closing his eyes at the feeling of your hand against his face; something he hasn’t felt in what feels like, forever. He hadn’t realized you were wiping away his tears. 

“I wanted to figure out the best way to tell you because, I mean we hadn’t exactly talked about us having kids before and I kind of figured that with everything that went on with your dad. I thought it was going to make it hard for you to think that you could be a good dad. Which, I think is stupid.” 

He opens his mouth to ask what you mean until you continue. 

“I mean, how could you not be a good dad because personally I think you’d be absolutely fucking phenomenal.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nod, “big time. You’re already doing better than your dad.” 

“What do you mean?” 

You smile and sniff. “You’re not making any of the stupid decisions he has.” 

“I made one.” 

You tilt your head. “What was that?” 

“I broke up with you. I just-” He pulls back from you (something he does when he feels like he’s undeserving of something). “I thought- I thought you were pulling away to break up with me and you couldn’t figure out how to do it, so I-” 

“So, you thought breaking up with me first, was a better option?” 

He nods, scratching his head. 

“Come closer.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he weakly argues. 

“Come here.” 

He scoots the chair closer. 

“I need you to be honest with me when I ask these questions, okay?” 

He nods. 

You sigh through your nose and reach for his hand. “Is there any part of you that does not want to be a part of either of our lives?” 

“No.” 

“Do you want to be with me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you going to leave any time soon?” 

“The fuck do you take me for? I’m not going to leave you ever,” he stands up and bends down, staring into your eyes before leaning down to kiss you. “Okay? I love you too fucking much to let you go again. I hated being away from you.” 

“Same here but, I’m really happy you’re here… even if it was because I fainted.” 

“Speaking of, why did that happen exactly?” 

“I- well- I hadn’t had anything-” 

“Let’s just cut the bullshit, have you been taking proper care of yourself since we were separated?” 

You shamefully shake your head. 

He doesn’t show his disappointment, but you know it’s there. 

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry. Isn’t that- crying is stressful on the baby, ain’t it?” 

“Not so much- I mean, maybe?” 

“Okay, well.” He grabs your hands, bringing your attention to him. “Let’s take a few deep breathes so we can calm down for Baby Tartt.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Do do do doo.” 

“Listen to you. Guess I rubbed off on you, eh?” You roll your eyes, not believing that for a second. “Does any of what you’ve said within the last two minutes sound anything like what your dad could say?” 

“Not in the least bit.” 

“See, exactly. It further proves you’re different and how much you’ve grown from the cocky man who couldn’t care less about anyone else.” 

“Hey. That’s someone we don’t speak of.” 

“Of course,” you salute him. You two can barely keep your amusement to yourselves and break into a fit of smiles and giggles. 

He stares at you, watching as you wipe your cheeks and leans up, kissing your forehead before placing his on top of your head. “I was,” he hesitates to finish his sentence. 

You nod and cup his cheek, letting him know you’re there, a simple gesture to let him know you want to hear what he has to say. 

“-so scared when I saw you lying there unconscious.” 

Your heart drops at the way his voice cracks. “Jaim. Jaim. Look at me.” 

He shakes his head. 

You don’t push any further and instead opt for bringing him closer, letting him rest against your chest, squeezing you in a hug. 

It takes a few minutes before Jamie manages to calm himself down enough to revert back to your adorable boyfriend. “Oh, shit. I didn’t hurt the baby, did I?” He asks, now scared to touch you. 

“No. You didn’t.” 

You hold out your hand for him, “do you trust me?” 

He nods, “’course I do.” 

“Give me your hand.” 

He slowly inches his hand closer and closer to you. 

You huff and reach for him. “Are you ready?” 

He doesn’t move or make a noise as you place his hand over your belly. “Am I supposed to be feeling anything?” 

“Other than knowing the fact you are going to be a father soon enough, no. I’m not that far along for us to feel any kicking.” 

He bends down as a breath of relief escapes him. “Thank god, I thought I was supposed to feel kicking or something and I didn’t, which scared me the hell out of me because I thought he already hated me.” 

“He?” 

“I mean, hello,” he gestures to himself. You roll your eyes and take your hand back from him. “You’re so going to be cursed with girls.” “How can you say that?” 

“Have you met yourself?” 

“I have and we’re actually quite happy together, sorry for the late notice, sweetheart.” 

You close your eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. 

Ted peaks his head in through the door. “I see you two have talked things out? Hopefully, if not. No pressure. Well, maybe a little seeing as I have everyone waiting in the hall.” 

“Everyone?” You repeat. 

The coach nods. “Give me second.” He looks back over his shoulder, pretending to count, “one, two, four. Yep, everyone.” 

You place your hand on your forehead. “Suddenly the thought of everyone knowing makes me nauseous.” 

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” 

You turn your head and look at your favorite person ever… for now. 

“If we can get through the team being little shits and the press making unnecessary comments about our relationship, we can get through the team knowing.” 

“We can?” He gives you an affirmative nod, “we can.” 

“We can.” 

“Atta girl.” 

“Alright, guys. They said okay,” Ted waves everyone in. 

“I suddenly realize how many of you there actually are,” you comment. 

Sam, Dani, and Colin chuckled. 

“As captain, I feel like it’s my duty to ask,” Isaac leans closer to you, talking to you in a softer tone than his normal one. “How are you?” 

You smile, “I’m better now.” 

“Good, that’s what we like to hear. Ain’t that right, team?” 

“Yes, coach!” 

“And now I’m scared.” 

“Oh, don’t be scared especially when you’re carrying a special bundle of joy,” the mustached man points out. 

“Oh fuck.” 

“Something the matter, Roy?” Ted asks. 

“Yeah. She’s carrying Tartt’s baby.” 

“I’m pretty sure they covered that topic back in school but continue.” 

“There’s going to be a baby brought into the world soon.” 

“Yeah?” Ted glances over at Beard, who shrugs. 

“With his blood coursing through its veins,” he points to your ex-not-ex-boyfriend. 

It’s quiet for three seconds before everyone groans and rolls their eyes, they think about what it could be like with a baby Jamie. 

“Hey, hey now. Let’s not think about something as crazy as that because this baby is a good thing.” 

“Yeah?” Jamie whispers, glancing back at Ted, not letting go of your hand. 

“Yes, it is,” the coach nods. “You’re going to go through one of the many joys life brings you.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Fatherhood… that, may or may not mix with a lot of uncles and two aunts who decide they want to spend time with the little booger.” 

“Would one of those many figures happen to include you, coach?” 

“No,” Ted shakes his head. 

“Not at all, Beard.” 

The door opens and heads turn. 

“Hi, I’m just here to-” The nurse takes note of the number of people in the room. “I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask anyone but the father and mother of the child to leave.” 

“Is it not believable that a woman could have this many boyfriends?” Jan asks. 

“Shut up.” A shoe aimed at his head, hits the wall and lands on the floor with a thud. 

The guys decide it’s time for them to leave, which lets you two see the few things the team has gotten, and it makes you tear up, freaking Jamie out. 

And he doesn’t want to admit it out loud, but it was really nice of them team to do. 

“Should we open some presents?” Ted softly asks, placing one in your lap. 

“Didn’t the nurse just kick you out.” 

“I’m your dad.”

 “We’re your dads,” Beard adds. 

You glance over at Jamie. 

He shrugs, not completely hating the idea of having these two around. “I would’ve liked to know about my new parents beforehand. What’s next? Roy’s my uncle.” 

“No, he’s a granddad more than anything,” Jamie chimes in. 

You wipe your cheeks and smile at him before gently pulling the tissue paper out of your way. You pull out a onesie that looks normal, until you unfold it and inspect it. You sniffle as you hold it up for Jamie to see. 

He doesn’t realize why you’re crying until he reads what the back of it, “Tartt 9”. He doesn’t feel the tears trickling down his cheeks until you wipe his cheeks. 

“Jaim?” 

He shakes his head and pulls you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head, over and over again. 

Ted smiles behind his phone. 

“We should probably give them some time alone.” 

“You think?” He asks. 

Beard nods. 

Ted sighs, “okie dokie.” 

They hold their hands up to wave, only to find your face squished against Jamie’s chest, barely able to wave them off. 

You and Jamie wind up opening every one of the other gifts, enjoying each other’s company after being apart for so long. 

“I think we should name it Jamie.” 

“Baby Tartt is not an it, it’s a baby,” you argue. 

“And we’re not naming them Jamie.” 

“Why not? It’s a good name.” 

“I’m not saying it’s a bad name but, we want our little pumpkin to be able to grow into their own, right?” 

“We-” He sighs, thinking about it, already knowing you were right. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” 

“Was that everything?” 

“I don’t know.” He glances over, finding a bag left on the floor, partially hidden so you couldn’t find it unless you were really looking. He grabs it and sets it in your lap. “What do you think it is?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug and move it closer for him to open (feeling you’ve done enough of the unveiling with presents). 

He pulls a figure out of the bag. “A bike?” Jamie brows furrows together in confusion until he thinks about it. The light bulb goes off in his head, everything clicking together, and he smiles. 

“Is there a card?” 

“I hope so.” 

Now you’re confused. 

He pulls out what looks like a plain index card. “Free one learn how to ride a bike pass.” He chuckles. 

“I’m lost.” 

“Remember how I told you I had something funny I wanted to tell you a couple months ago, but I couldn’t because the shithead was making me train, even though Ted gave us the night off.” He huffs and sits back in the chair. 

“Okay, I don’t need the background information, just give me the synopsis.” 

“Right,” he straightens his back. “I taught Roy how to ride a bike in memory of his granddad.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah,” he nods with a smile. 

“And he let you?” 

“Not without trying to hurt me but I did it.” 

“I’m so proud of you.” 

“Yea- really?” 

“Of course, I’m proud of you. You taught the world’s grumpiest man how to ride a bike and lived to tell the tale.” 

“I guess you’re right.” 

“Of course, I’m right.” 

“I hope the baby doesn’t get your cockiness.”

“My cockiness? What about yours?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” 

“You lie.” 

He fake gasps and slaps his hand on his chest. “I take offense to that.” 

“I’m not sorry.” 

“You should be. We don’t want this one’s first word to be a lie.”

“It wouldn’t, don’t be mean,” you whine. 

“I’m not. I’m just being me.” 

“Yeah, and that’s mean.” 

He smiles and shakes his head. 

You start folding a few of the blankets the guys got, feeling the need to do something. “Hey, look. They got one with sharks.” 

“We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.” 

“Girls can like boy things too.” 

“Do you really want to be asked if we have a boy or a girl every day.” 

“Don’t be mean.” You smile, holding it close to your chest. “I like it. Baby Tartt, do do doo doo. Baby Tart, do do doo doo.” 

He groans, “please stop.” 

“Never.” 

You stiffle a yawn. 

“Come on,” he takes away the few things on your lap and blanket from your hands. “You need to rest.” 

“But I don’t want to.” 

He smiles at the whining tone in your voice. “I know but it’ll do the two of you well.” 

“Fine,” you tell him with a pout. “But sit by me. I… I’ve missed you.” 

“How can I say no to my girlfriend?” Jamie settles beside you and lets you lay against his chest. 

As you sleep and he’s bored, searching through the hospital’s shitty channels, he stumbles upon something interesting, an old childhood show he used to watch. 

You open your eyes to hear the song you briefly sang earlier. 

“Doo doo. Baby Tartt, do do doo doo.” 

“Jam-Jam?” 

“Hey,” he clears his throat. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better. What were you doing?” 

He shrugs. 

You smile and snuggle back into him. “I won’t tell anyone.”

[hollandroos]

Liar / Spencer Reid

Paring: Spencer Reid X Reader Insert

Words: 900

Warnings: Angst Angst Angst. No happy ending

A/N: Now I know what you're all thinking.... Soph, since when do you write for criminal minds? well.... what do you think I watched religiously during my very painful pregnancy and the last five months post partum?

Your packed bags fell against the door to what was once your shared home. Now it just felt empty. Empty draws, followed by an empty bathroom cabinet that once contained items that were now packed away tightly in a suitcase. Followed by an empty bedside table, and an empty mug cupboard because you bought every single one of those prized mugs - and you’d be damned if he expected you just to leave them behind. 

Spencer stood before you, eye bags partnered by the suit he must’ve worn home on the jet - the same one he left in three days ago. The same one you had ironed just five days ago, and snuck a loving note in the front pocket. You wondered if he got it. If he had, he hadn’t mentioned it. 

Be safe, I love you. Please eat. 

You’d thought it’d be cute if you sprayed the paper with a spritz of one of your perfumes… the one he used to compliment you on every time you wore it. Somewhere down the line he must’ve grown tired of it. He’d stopped complimenting your perfume long ago.

Come to think of it, he hadn't complimented anything about you in a long while. You merely felt like a side gig in Spencer Reid's busy, ever chaotic life.

“What are you doing?” He asks softly. His eyes rack your bags before landing on your tear stricken face.

You swallow, however the lump in the back of your throat refuses to budge. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re leaving me.”

Spencer shoves his hands into his pant pockets, gripping tightly onto an old lip balm and a foreign hair tie. He looks exhausted. You want to crawl into his arms and beg him to get some well deserved rest. Rest that you needed too. God you needed rest.

“Spenc-”

“And considering it’s just gone two am, I’d assume you were trying to slip out before I got home because you couldn’t tell me yourself.”

“You’d assume correctly.” You straighten out, feeling your eyes well up with tears that were so goddamn close to spilling over. “I’m sorry.”

Maybe if you cried he’d beg you to stay, promise to fix it and try harder. You imagine he’d beg you to crawl into bed with him and sort it out tomorrow when you both weren’t so sleep deprived. You’d both shimmy under the covers and get that sleep in you’d been craving. The reality is however, you’d probably wake up and the space next to you would be cold again. And you’d be alone once more. 

Truth be told you didn’t sleep very much while Spencer was away. Your bed felt so much colder, and the genius wasn’t all that good at using his phone so you’d wait and wait for a text from him, just to let you know that he’s okay and before you knew it the sun would be coming up and your phone hadn’t pinged once.

You wondered how often you crossed the man's mind while he was away, because he crossed yours plenty. It seemed as though you were a foreign thought. 

“Are you?” He raised a brow, not much emotion crossing the man's face. It made your blood boil, because if he did love you as much as he once claimed he wasn’t very good at showing it.

You tried to remember when you first noticed his love for you fizzle out. Maybe it was when he stopped opening doors for you first, or complimenting your new outfits. Maybe it was when he started to sneak out of bed in the morning without giving you a kiss and a feeble I love you. Or when rereading the books he’d already ingrained into his memory became more enticing then a shower with you. 

Despite this, you never stopped your attempts at sharing your love with him. Dear god - you had so much of it to give, and he had been at the receiving end of it all. 

“Are you sorry?” You spit back, definitely harsher then you had intended. 

“Am I sorry?” He questioned, seeming awfully confused about the whole ordeal. If he wasn’t confused then he was just acting dumb. “Why would I - You’re the one trying to leave me in the middle of the night, why should I be sorry?”

“When did you stop loving me?”     

Spencers poker face finally breaks, however instead of breaking into a look of sadness, remorse, or anything of the sort it’s just confusion.

“I never stopped-”

“You’re not a liar, Spence, don’t start now.” 

With a heavy heart, tears now spilling freely down already damp cheeks and tight fists you grip the suitcase handles and haul your entire life out the door of your previously shared apartment. 

It’s crazy how you could pack up your entire life into two raggedy old suitcases. 

You wondered if it’d break Spencer's heart to find little pieces of you around the apartment - pieces that hadn’t been important enough to take with you. If maybe he’d cry when taking down photos of the two of you or miss your presence in your designated barstool at breakfast.

Tonight, Spencer would be the one sleeping in that cold, lonesome bed down the hall, while you cuddled up in some overpriced hotel sheets feeling heartbroken, yet equally proud for finally allowing yourself to walk away.

[chaithetics]

Very Own, Personal Venus

Pairing: Abel Morales x plus size f (afab) reader Word count: 2.4K Warning/note: 18 + MDNI, fluff, established relationship, oral (f receiving). A/N: Not proofread, I hope you all enjoy it! I was hoping to get this out a lot sooner than what I did, so oops! Plus size, midsize, chubby, curvy girlies are absolute beauties, you/we deserve more love. No physical description mentioned other than reader being plus size! I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it but especially you! Please validate me and this fic, comments, reblogs and asks very much appreciated🫶 Tagging with much appreciation @steven-grants-world x Gif by @flawless-v1ctory

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It was a late night at the start of a cool winter when Abel’s car pulled into the driveway and he came home from a long day. Due to the temperature, he’d spent most of the day when at meetings and driving bundled up in his signature, large, caramel coat. 

When Abel stepped inside, it was much warmer, it was perfectly cosy and he quickly took his coat off and hung it on the coat rack then he immediately took his shoes off and placed them in the shoe rack by the door. You weren’t downstairs which didn’t surprise him, it was late and he knew you’d be wrapped up like a gift in bed, either sleeping or reading. 

Abel walked upstairs to your bedroom, the door was open and a light was on, he leaned against the doorway. Abel’s eyes immediately landed on you, the way that your body is laid out in bed and on display, he can’t help but bite on the inside of his cheek as he thinks about how you look like an antique piece of art depicting a goddess treasured in some museum as he takes in the soft waves of your body. His own personal Venus. 

Abel lets out a low, little whistle as he steps out of the shadow of his day that hangs from the doorframe and walks further into the light of where you are in the bed. You hear the whistle and his footsteps against the floor, you start to turn over to look up and face him. 

You blink tiredly for a minute as your eyes focus on his approaching figure and you give him a small smile, staying in the comfortable bed that is just perfectly cosy with all the blankets and covers. You move your arm up so you can rest your head a bit on it as you try to wake yourself up more.

“It’s late…” You whisper as he moves to sit on the bed. 

‘I know baby, I’m sorry.” He says as he caresses your forehead gently while looking at you. 

You’re happy to see him, you miss him during the day and you’ve certainly been missing him more lately with the late nights he’s been working over the last week trying to make everything happen for another deal and the endless issues that an entrepreneur like him is constantly grappling with. 

Abel’s met with your kind smile, as you look up at him. You’re too kind for him, too perfect. It’s the thoughts that come to his mind as he looks at your gorgeous smile and how that makes your plump cheeks look. He caresses your face for a moment, his fingers dancing over the full cheeks and he tilts his head down to place a gentle, grateful kiss there. 

As he does that, you place a hand into his hair, the gelled back hair, neat and short enough, styled so that his natural curls aren’t springing free, much to your dismay. But he’s still perfectly handsome like this. 

You place your other hand to his shoulder and caress it softly with a tired sigh. He’s wearing one of his turtlenecks again and he looks so goddamn good. He knows you love that item of clothing on him, you don’t know what it is but it just is some universal thing that makes every look look better and Abel just pulls them off so well. No matter what colour, fabric, or where they are brought from, they all seem to be tailor-made for his body in the sexiest way possible. Your cheeks heat up a little as you think about how good he looks. You had the most handsome and softly spoken husband in the world.

“How was your day though?” You ask as you watch his face. There’s a tired look there but there’s a smile on his lips which grows each time his eyes look at you and he hears your voice. It’s the best sound in the world to him, especially after a long day. 

“It was okay, it’s better now that I’m here with you.” He whispers which makes you smile. He’s always so sweet, a mouth of sugar. 

Abel’s hand moves down from your cheek as he caresses your neck and then your shoulder, you can’t help but watch his face as the most peaceful expression takes over him as his hand travels further down your body. He ends up caressing your upper arm as his fingers run along the visible stretch marks on your skin, up and down, over and over. It’s a gentle, affectionate touch. He lets out a little peaceful hum. 

He looks completely content and you can’t help but feel the same feeling, an easiness in your bones, as you look at him and breathe slowly as he does too. You’re sure that if you pressed your head against his warm chest and listened to his heart you’d find that you’re both so peaceful and in sync that your hearts would be beating together in time. 

“Is it gonna be a quieter day tomorrow?” You ask as you relax more, feeling your body sink further into the mattress as his hand continues, you can tell that Abel is completely focused on you as he does this. He blinks slowly for a moment, his warm brown eyes had been focusing on where he’d been caressing you and they focus again on your sweet face. He gives a little nod. “Yeah, it should be. I should be home for a late dinner at least, honey.” He says softly in his dreamy voice, it’s becoming a bit breathier. Your eyes then widen, you’d put leftovers in the fridge for him but he might’ve just come straight to bed and not eaten at all. You knew he usually had lunch but it’s been quite a while since then so you tilt your head as you look at his face. “Have you not eaten? Abel! There’s leftovers in the refrigerator, do you want me to heat it up for you? A snack? Oh Abel…” “I’m fine, I’ve eaten today. Might just have a little snack.” He says as he tilts his head to look at you with a growing smirk on his adoring face. 

He moves the silk of your nightgown up to your stomach, exposing your thighs and intimate areas. Abel moves down your body sprinkling some kisses along your neck and full breasts and stomach. He gets down to between your thick thighs and smiles widely. It’s the most animated he’s looked since being home and you can’t help but smile back as your cheeks heat up at this sight. 

“I just need something sweet before bed.” He whispers against the sensitive skin of your thighs, it draws a sharp gasp from you and you feel your fingers start to instinctively search for a corner of a sheet or pillow to grip onto in preparation of what’s to come. His fingers dance along the softness of your thighs. “Can I have a sweet treat, beautiful?” Abel asks in a voice that’s soft and feels musical, you can feel each breath of his words. 

Your cheeks heat up more and you bite your lip, it takes a couple of seconds for your brain to connect to whatever part of your nervous system it needs to to say the ‘yes’ aloud and not just think it. You finally say it and give a quick, frantic nod. 

Abel’s hands expertly run around the soft thighs that he loves, he’s done this a million times and will do it at least another million times more. He peppers on kisses up and down your thighs, you squirm slightly at the feeling of his lips and hot breath. He knows just how to turn you on perfectly and immediately. 

His eyes were closed for a moment as he kissed your thighs and his ran up to your vulva. He ran his fingers around, not getting anywhere near your hole or bundle of nerves as he teased you, he wouldn’t call it that though. He’d say he was building up anticipation. He did that for a moment before he palmed you, you let out a gasp at that and gripped the pillow next to you. You knew what was coming next. 

Abel’s finger circled your sensitive bundle of nerves three times, you couldn’t help but let out a moan. He was kissing your inner thigh now as he moved his fingers and he started to dip one into your hole, it was barely in but he was teasing you nonetheless, starting to work you up. You felt your breath become a little shaky as your cheeks heated, you bucked your hips up, trying to get more contact with his fingers, needing to swallow him up more. 

You gasped, letting out a giggle as you felt his smirk against your thigh at that somatic ask for more. He smiled more and did as he knew you wanted, he started to move his finger in deeper as you eagerly swallowed his digit up with each movement. You smiled and let out a moan as he did that. 

Abel kept kissing your thighs as that happened, he was licking them gently, perfectly content to take his time with you laid out, looking so ethereal with pleasure painted all over your face. When you were like this, it was like a  renaissance painting just for his eyes. 

His fingers pump in quicker, and he adds another finger in which you can’t help but whine at. You dig another fingers  into the pillow next to you and let out a moan as your eyes shut tightly. The feeling of pleasure becomes so much more overwhelming with the extra digit and quicker pace. 

It’s now that his mouth moves up and you feel his nose lightly nudge your clitoris and you gasp out, you can’t help but let out a louder moan at that. Abel’s mouth starts to devour you up, he licks through your folds, kissing along your slit and he starts to slowly lick around your bundle of nerves. “Tastes so good, you always taste so good for me.” He whispers against your clitoris and you can’t help but gasp out and slightly shake at that, the feeling of his words, what they do the fire in your loins and what the feeling of his breath does to those sensitive nerves. 

Abel quickly goes back to licking your beautiful cunt, he’s lapping up like it’s the sweetest treat he’s ever had, like it’s his only source of water and it’s the hottest day in history. You just taste that good to him. He keeps lapping your juices up, pulling out the most amazing noises out of you. 

One of your hands is still tightly gripping onto the pillow but the other quickly moves to his head of perfect hair. You scratch at his scalp, trying to keep it light, despite the fact that with how good he’s making you feel and how overwhelming it is, it would be so easy to scratch harder. You start to tug on his hair as you whine out. His two fingers are still pumping in and out of you at a delicious pace and you can feel his fingers reaching the perfect spot inside. 

But it’s what his mouth is doing that is really driving you wild, he’s still lapping through your folds, savouring every last drop of your juices as you whine under him. His hand that isn’t pumping you, is now up holding onto your left breast and squeezing it gently. His eyes are closed now as he treasures this moment, the feeling of your perfect body and how sweet you taste. Abel starts to suck on your clitoris and that’s when you cry out. You try to bite your lip, it feels so damn good and you know you’re close. He keeps pumping his fingers in and out at the same pace, he knows better than to change it up moments away from the finishing line. He keeps licking and sucking on your clitoris, he moans and hums against it as he sucks the release out of you. 

Your hand tightens in his ear as you feel your eyes roll back as the feeling overwhelms your whole body. You release, whining out over the high of your orgasm as Abel mouth and tongue slow down in order to help you ride it out and not overstimulate you. You pant and close your eyes, letting go of the pillow you were gripping and holding it to your forehead. You look down at Abel and he’s still between your thighs, looking up at you. He slowly and gently licks up your release and then sprinkles gentle kisses across your thighs. 

“You’re so perfect, so beautiful for me.” He whispers as he looks at you adoringly. Your cheeks heat up again and you smile tiredly at him.

You’re saying it all with your eyes, you love him, you’re grateful for him. He’s the only one who can make you feel that good. And he feels exactly the same, and he says it all with his eyes too as he looks up at you. 

Abel is looking more tired now though, you’re both absolutely exhausted and ready for sleep now. You’ve had another amazing release because of his handiwork and he got his sweet treat that he needed so badly before bed. 

He smiles tiredly at you and moves his body slowly back up. He kisses your hip one last time, then your soft stomach, making sure to sprinkle it in affectionate kisses as he then lands to your neck for a long, sweet kiss. Abel then rests his head against your chest, he caresses your arm softly as your legs tangle together and you start to play with his hair as you close your eyes, feeling content. Both of your breathing settles, back to normal and then start to slow down as tangled up, you both drift off to sleep. You feel him give your chest one last kiss before he tilts his head, closes his eyes and falls into a peaceful slumber. One he could only have with you.

[mopopshop]

headcannons about taurasi when reader and her are arguing , angst, possible smut 👀

Lost Love

Summary: DT’s late practices are straining her marriage to Aniyah (reader). As loneliness and unspoken words drive apart, both must confront their unraveling relationship and search for a way back to each other.

y’all this might be too angsty honestly LMAO but i’m actually kinda proud of it😓🙏🏾

send more requests!! i’m gonna close them after tomorrow

It’s once again another late night, alone, sad, and in the dark.

Diana’s practices have been getting later and later these past few weeks. You’ve tried to be understanding, tried to support her as best as you can. After all, you knew what you were signing up for when you married a professional athlete. But tonight, it feels like the loneliness has swallowed you whole.

When you finally hear the sound of keys jangling at the door, you sit up, your heart heavy with a mix of anticipation and dread. Diana steps in, looking exhausted and barely acknowledging your presence. 

"Hey," she mumbles, dropping her bag by the door.

"Hey," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "Another late night."

She shrugs, not meeting your eyes. "Yeah, practice ran over. Again."

There’s a tension in the air, thick and palpable. You’ve had this conversation too many times before, and yet, here you are again, hoping for a different outcome.

"D, we need to talk," you start, your voice trembling slightly.

"About what?" she snaps, her tone sharper than intended. "I’m tired, okay? Can we do this later?"

"No, we can’t," you say, standing your ground. "We’ve been putting this off for too long. I’m tired too, D. Tired of feeling like I’m not a priority in your life."

Her eyes finally meet yours, and you see a flicker of guilt before she hardens her expression. "You knew what this was when we got together. This is my career. This is important."

"And what about us?" you ask, your voice breaking. "Aren’t we important? I— I am your wife for christ’s sake! 

She sighs, running a hand over her face. "Yeah I fuckin’ know that. I’m the one who goddamn proposed to you Niyah-“

"But it doesn't feel like it anymore!" you shout, cutting her off. The dam of your pent-up frustration and hurt bursts open. "You act like your career is the only thing that fucking matters! When was the last time we had a real conversation? When was the last time you actually listened to me?"

Diana's eyes flash with anger. "I am doing everything I can! Do you think I wanna- wanna come home to this? You think I enjoy arguing with you? Being yelled at after practice? I’m working my ass off every damn day to support us, babe. I'm giving it my all out there!

"And what about in here?" you counter, pointing to the space between you. "What about giving your all to this marriage? I feel like I'm just an inconvenience to you now, D. Like I'm something you have to deal with instead of someone you want to be with."

She shakes her head, her jaw tight. "That's not fair. You know how demanding this job is. You knew it from the start."

"Knowing it and living it are two different things," you say, tears welling up in your eyes. "I can't keep pretending that everything's okay when it's not. I can't keep sitting here every night, wondering if you'll even remember to come home."

Diana throws her hands up in exasperation. "What do you want from me, Niyah? To quit? To give up everything I've worked for?"

"I want you to fight for us as hard as you fight on that court!" you cry, your voice trembling. "I want to feel like I matter to you, like I'm not just some fuckin’ second thought."

Diana clenches her fists, moving closer so now the two of you are yelling inches apart. "You're not a second thought," she insists, but the conviction in her voice wavers. "But I can't drop everything for you. I can't just walk away from my career."

"I'm not asking you to walk away," you reply, your tone desperate. "I'm asking you to find a balance. To show me that you care. To make some time for us, for me."

Diana's eyes narrow, her frustration boiling over. "Balance? You think that's easy? Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep up with everything? To stay at the top of my game? I can't just turn it off when I come home!"

"And I can't just turn off my feelings!" you shout back, shoving her lightly. "Every night, I'm here waiting, hoping you'll walk through that door and actually see me. But jesus D, it's like I'm invisible to you.”

You turn down the hallway, stalking towards your room as Diana follows you. 

“D, don’t fuckin’ follow me I’m done with this shit and I’m tired” you say exasperatedly and huff your way into a sitting position on the bed, trying to speak over her

"No! I am gonna follow you and I am gonna keep talking ‘cause that shit you just said isn’t  true, Niyah," she says, her voice rising. "I do see you. But I can't always be here. I have responsibilities, commitments. This is my life!"

"And what about our life?" you counter, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. "What about the promises we made to each other? Does any of that matter to you anymore?"

Diana looks away, the conflict in her eyes clear. "Of course it matters," she mutters, but the words sound hollow.

"Then why does it feel like you're choosing everything else over us?" you ask, your voice breaking. "I need you, Diana. I need you to be present, to be here. Not just physically, but emotionally."

She takes a deep breath, her frustration palpable. "I genuinely don't know what you want from me, Niyah. I'm doing the best I can."

"Your best isn't enough!" you shout, the words hanging in the air like a final blow. "I need more. We need more."

Diana's face hardens, her eyes flashing with anger. "And I need you to understand that I can't always give more. This is my career, my dream. I can't sacrifice that."

"And I can't keep sacrificing my happiness," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "I love you, D… I love you so so much— but I can't keep living like this. Feeling like I'm always waiting for you to remember that I exist."

The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of your words settling heavily between you. Diana's shoulders slump, the fight seeming to drain out of her.

"I don't know how to fix this," she finally says, her voice low and strained. "I don't know if I can."

"Neither do I," you admit, tears streaming down your face. "But something has to change, Diana. We can't keep going on like this."

Diana looks at you, her expression a mixture of pain and resignation. "Maybe... maybe we need some space. To figure things out. To see if this can even work."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but deep down, you know she's right. "Yeah," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe you should go."

Diana nods slowly, the decision weighing heavily on both of you. She turns and heads toward the bedroom door, pausing briefly as if to say something, but the words never come. Instead, she grabs a few essentials and heads back to the living room to gather her things.

As she leaves, the sound of the door closing behind her feels final, like a chapter ending in your life. You sit on the edge of the bed, the tears flowing freely now. The loneliness you've been feeling these past few weeks intensifies, and the emptiness of the house seems to swallow you whole.

You lie down, curling into a ball as the sobs wrack your body. The bed feels too big, too cold without her. You clutch the pillow where her scent still lingers, but it offers little comfort.

The silence is deafening, broken only by your muffled cries. You lie there, heartbroken and alone, wondering how it all came to this and if there will ever be a way to bridge the gap that's grown between you and the woman you love.

———

[theferrarieffect]

jealousy, jealousy - chapter 1: sometimes, it’s good to just sit one out

f1 fanfiction: lestappen (max x charles)

masterlist

next chapter

summary: we know em and love em as one of f1's spiciest rivalries. but the ferrari boys and their disgustingly cute chemistry makes max realize there's a fine line between love and hate...

chapter 1: sometimes it's good to sit one out

Two exhausting practice sessions to kick off the 2024 season later, Max Verstappen lay as motionless as possible in his bed. He glanced at his watch: 7:48pm local time. He had exactly 12 minutes of peace left, 12 minutes before he and some of the other guys on the grid would be hunting for a source of food together. He wished the Max of three hours ago hadn’t told them all to meet in his room; present Max wanted to just exist as long as possible alone.

As if someone heard his thoughts, there was a tentative knock at the door. Max flipped over, let out a groan into his pillow, and peeled himself off his bed. He looked through the peep-hole at Charles Leclerc, who was shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Well, if it had to be someone, better Charles than…most of the others, really.

Max cracked open the door. “You’re 10 minutes early,” he huffed. “That’s 10 minutes I can never get back.”

Charles stiffened, but relaxed when he saw what he thought was an amused glint in Max’s blue eyes. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “They have McLaren staying in the same hall as us. And I think Lando’s trying to show Oscar some horrible new mixtape.”

“Right then,” Max allowed him in. “But I’m not in a mood to chat. I’m fucking tired and plan to be as inactive as possible until the clock literally hits 8.”

“That’s okay,” Charles said quietly. He took his shoes off and climbed onto the other bed, scrolling through his phone. Max returned to his horizontal position, but no longer felt relaxed at all. He kept stealing glances at Charles, who had changed from his racing suit into a pair of linen pants and a breezy matching button-down, perfect for the muggy Bahrain weather. His curly hair was damp, and Max noted the vague citrus of his shampoo. He became acutely aware of his comparatively boring uniform of his usual Red Bull polo and skinny jeans. And then realized how ridiculous it was that he was thinking about fashion at all.

“Rough practice,” Max mused out loud to banish his thoughts.

Charles started at this unexpected comment. “Yeah—Hamilton was on one though. And Carlos did well for himself. I think he’s feeling the car more this season already.”

Max rolled over so that he could look Charles in the eye. “I saw some of the turns you made. Carlos isn’t the only one who’s feeling the car.”

Charles’ eyes widened and his lips parted, but nothing came out. Max instantly regretted his impulsive words. The two awkwardly stared at each other for a few long beats, and were mercifully interrupted by another knock, infinitely most obnoxious than the last. Actually, make that several annoying knocks.

“Oi, let us in!” Lando Norris crowed from the hallway. Max rolled his eyes at Charles, who jumped out of bed and opened the door for Lando, George Russell, and Alex Albon.

“Hey guys,” Charles greeted the group. “Where’s Carlos? I thought he was coming too.”

Carlos Sainz was Charles’ teammate on Ferrari, and although Charles himself was supposed to be one of Max’s biggest rivals, the Spanish driver had been getting on Max’s nerves as of late. There was no reason he should—Carlos was, honestly, one of the best guys on the grid. Funny, charismatic, ridiculously athletic, the owner of an enviable mane of hair and a tanned jawline that you could grate cheese over. And wholesome. So goddamned nice. Fucker could banter with literally anybody on the grid, and Max was pretty sure Carlos inspired a couple hashtag with every teammate he’d ever been with. Carlando. Charlos. So why did hearing Charles ask for him—so fast—make Max’s palms itch?

Lando furrowed his brows. “Carlos? I dunno, he might still be in hospitality. Or in the shower. Could’ve sworn I heard Smooth Operator through the bathroom wall…”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Charles said. “Well, Max is here and Danny should join us any minute, so I’ll try to go find him.” And he left the room as quietly as he’d come in.

Max rolled his eyes. “You guys are early. I said 8.”

“Be thankful we showed up early,” Lando scoffed and rubbed his hands together. “I’m a growing boy and I’m HUNGRY. You prats ought to tell me what you want to order or I’m going to call in a pizza, and I’m not sharing.”

“Carlos said he’d cook,” George reminded him. Max frowned at the thought of Carlos showing off his cooking skills, although of course since it’s Carlos, it wouldn’t be showing off.

“Well, I don’t see Carlos, nor anything he’d be able to cook with, so he’d better get a move on before—”

“Better get that pizza, Lando,” Danny abruptly strided into the room. “Carlos said he’d make breakfast, not dinner. You’ll have to wait to taste his carbonara another day.”

“Why carbonara?” George looked confused.

“Carlos and Leclerc made carbonara for that Ferrari challenge,” Max filled in. “Go watch it yourselves.”

Lando giggled, momentarily distracted from his plight. “I’ve gotten it pulled up, mate.” He tilted his phone towards George and Alex, showing them the video of Charles and Carlos duking it out in front of two induction burners in an effort to create a passable carbonara as fast as possible.

George took one look at the men clad in aprons and ridiculous red toques and burst out laughing.

Video Charles’ voice singsonged through the speakers. “Oh my god, what a mistake! You start with the eggs! Mate! You neeed to start with the guanciale, maybe a little—smell, smell the smell of carbonarrra. So then, you break the egg…right? The white of the egg, we take it off—”

“I disagree,” Video Carlos cut in.

“So the yellow of the egg only—” Video Charles attempted again.

“I disagree,” Video Carlos snapped again, and Alex lost it as well.

“Is this what they call Leclerifying?” Lando smirked.

Max felt his cheeks grow warm, dreading the inevitable mention of “Maxsplaining” that would come next. He averted his eyes from the screen as Video Charles began pacing around the studio, interjecting his clearly unwanted opinion as Video Carlos slowly lost his patience.

Lando suddenly paused the video and zoomed in with his fingers. “Bro.” He motioned for the others to see. “Leclerc has an ass.”

“Mate, that’s so gay,” George raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t know me,” Lando retorted. “That’s not very inclusive of you.”

George’s smile suddenly faded. “Hold on, you know I didn’t mean it like that, there’s nothing wrong with—”

“Aaah, I’m joking mate,” Lando smirked.

He let out a yelp as George aimed a kick as his shin.

Max cleared his throat. “Restroom, be right back.”

In the bathroom, he took two deep breaths and willed himself to calm down. He had seen the video himself too, of course…and he had certainly also noticed how Charles’ white pants, expertly cuffed at the ankles, accentuated his backside. He just didn’t expect fucking Lando to point it out so readily. Max didn’t like watching the video in general, though. Something about the way Charles pranced in those goddamned pants around his teammate, peering over his shoulder at Carlos’ pasta, calling mate to him over and over again, almost like he was teasing Carlos on purpose. And of course Carlos was eating it up, even as he feigned irritation. Max could practically picture him steering just a little too close to Charles, brushing him to the side as he made his way over to the judges to explain his dish to the judges like he was competing on fucking MasterChef.

Come to think of it, Lando was the least afraid of the boys to show physical affection, even more so than Carlos. Maybe he was actually into guys. And maybe that would be a good thing for the grid, might make other people more willing to talk about that kind of stuff. Max wasn’t blind, he’d seen some questionable, tense moments among the drivers. But not him. He was just…observant. There just wasn’t any other reason why he couldn’t help but watch Charles and Carlos’ Ferrari challenges as soon as they dropped. Hell, if anything, they were his biggest rivals. Something about keeping your friends close, and your enemies closer.

He heard the door open again, and Charles laughing—a progressively rarer sound over the past year. The Ferrari effect. And then the deep, rolling laughs of Carlos blending with Charles’ breathless chuckles.

“Carlos, my dear lad!” Lando exclaimed, delighted. “We’ve been waiting for you to grace us with your presence.”

Carlos snorted. “What am I, some kind of king? That’s how you should be talking to Lord Perceval over here.”

Charles giggled. A sour taste filled Max’s throat at the affectionate nickname. He walked out of the bathroom and positioned himself in front of the two teammates, whose arms looked practically intertwined with each other’s.

Carlos smiled at Max. “Hey, mate.”

Max had to remember to tear his gaze away from Charles’ crinkled eyes, still harboring a ghost of his laugh, and return Carlos’ greeting with a nod. “Hey. Uh, good work on the track today.”

“Thanks,” Carlos beamed. Charles gave Max a circumspect look, and Max gritted his teeth, willing himself not to turn red in front of him. What on Earth was up with them today?

Lando clapped impatiently. “So are we getting food or what?”

The other guys murmured their assent. Max avoided looking at Charles and Carlos, wishing he had just sat this one out entirely after all.

notes: carbonara video creds to the c2 challenge ;) took a tiny bit of creative liberty

[uncouth-the-fifth]

Mandy Davis, you punk ass bitch - Sam Winchester/Reader (for #samweek2023)

read it on ao3. masterlist.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader. Tags/Warnings: just fluff! Word Count: 2k Notes: for @ghostsam and @suncaptor's Sam Winchester Appreciation Week :) happy birthday baby boy!!! ily ily ily <;3 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

The alarm clock in Bobby’s guest bedroom was a little busted, so you weren’t crazy confident that it could get you up at midnight like you wanted. True to form, you were hauled ass-first out of sleep a little after two in the morning, and staggered out of bed bleary-eyed and cursing. 

What kind of sick freaks tortured themselves like this? Very, very dedicated girlfriends. Just like you’d predicted, the other side of the bed hadn’t been touched. Sam was probably still downstairs, straining his neck over a book and adding to his exhaustive research notes. Totally clueless. You groped around the floor for the spare pajama pants you’d stolen from him ages ago and hopped into them as quietly as you could. The house was serene but not quiet, filled with the natural creaks and sighs of the old wood and the flutter of the loose siding in the breeze. You knew it would be impossible to stay silent on the stupid ancient stairway, but you were determined not to wake Dean. There was no way you were letting him beat you to this like he had last year. Pouring all of your hunter chops into the task, you snuck down the stairs like a goddamn ghost, and made sure to throw Dean’s door two gloating middle fingers in the dark. Eat that, Winchester.

Every inch of the first floor was covered by safe blue darkness, except for a teeny circle of buttery lamplight that you followed to the kitchen. Before you turned the corner, you made bets with yourself about how Sam would be sitting: hunched completely over the kitchen table, that’s for sure, probably rubbing at his aching neck and glaring at what he was reading.

When you were close enough to see, you let your footsteps be heard so as not to scare him. Man, you were good. The same angle you’d pictured and everything.

Sam pried his face away from his research and squinted at his watch, then at you, sheepish. “Oh, hey… sorry. I promised that I’d be up hours ago.”

You knew he was already finding ten ways to beat himself up over it, so you drew yourself towards him with an understanding smile. “No sweat,” you waved it off, “I’m glad you’re still up. It means I get to do this.”

The first chance you got, you pounced on him, sliding up behind his chair and squeezing your arms around his shoulders. Sam made a pleased little sound that quickly became embarrassed—you scooped up his face and started smushing noisy kisses everywhere you could reach. Sam pretended to squirm and groan for your benefit, but he was a lousy actor. Just a few kisses melted him like butter. 

As he relaxed, so did you. Sam wrapped a loose hand around your wrist, and you gave him one more deep kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Sammy.”

“So that’s where this is coming from,” Sam realized. He started scrubbing sleepily at his eyes, sighing and laughing without humor, “God, I didn’t even know it was May.”

You hid your evil smile in Sam’s hair. “So… I take it I beat your brother to saying it first?”

“You did,” Sam confirmed. Just by hearing his voice you knew he had on that small, dopey smile that he reserved only for you.

“Fuck yeah,” You hiss in victory. You put on a whole show to get a laugh out of him, pumping your fist and salsaing in a happy circle.

A few tired chuckles seep out of your boyfriend. He sounds beyond exhausted, and you’ve got it so bad for him that just that makes your heart throb with sympathy. Feeling stupid and in love and obsessed with him, you fall down into the closest empty seat and take Sam’s hand, wishing more than anything that the whole world would throw him a party. He deserved so much more than what this shitty world ever gave him. Even the small gift you’d managed to pull together for him didn’t feel like enough.

“I have two gifts for the birthday boy,” you tell him, holding up two important fingers. “Do you want to open them both right now?”

Sam has had a sum total of two good birthdays in his entire life, so he props a hand on his thigh and shrugs. He’s never been very eager to make a thing out of May 2nd. “Whatever you wanna do.”

You make a sound like an incorrect gameshow buzzer. “Wrong! Birthday boy makes the decisions today.”

There it is. Sam cracks an even bigger, shier smile, sinking into his seat a little bit. “Okay, okay,” he relents, “...Can I open them now?”

“Of course you can,” you flirt, and start to feel around under the table. It is your greatest joy in life to mess with Sam, and for a moment you’re flooded with that joy when you find the gift with your hand, pull it loose from where you taped it, and slap it onto the table.

Sam’s face blooms with amused disbelief. He’s been grinding away at these books for hours, and of course, his birthday gift was right under his nose this entire time. “You masterminded all of this, didn’t you?” He guesses, smile growing, “Is the second one under my chair? Behind my ear or something?”

“Close,” you admit, and gesture him in. Dutiful as ever, Sam listens, only to be pulled into a deep, loving kiss. “She’s right here,” you murmur.

It’s a really dorky gift to give him, but more than anything you want this day to be special for him. Underneath all the teasing attitude you’re throwing around, you’re overwhelmed with the urge to do something for him, to make up for the myriad of shitty birthdays he’s survived, and the strength of it could pulverize every monster in the whole damn state. A content hum drains out of him. You kiss him like you could squeeze the fear out of him with your hands, curling your fingers through the tufts of hair at his neck and stroking his scalp.

When you draw back, Sam’s face is bright red. He gives you this bashful look like he’s never in a million years been kissed like that, and instead of getting smug, you just feel plain happy. “I love it,” Sam confesses, “That’s the best birthday gift I’ve ever been given.”

You’re sure that’s not a tough race to beat, but hey, it’s nice to hear. Sam gives your hand a sweet squeeze before scooping your actual, physical gift off the kitchen table. The gift-wrapping resources at Bobby’s house were pretty lacking, so you got creative with some paper bags, twine, and markers, wrapping your gift in the paper and then drawing stars all over it. Sam stares at it for so long that you consider making fun of him, but even the stupid impromptu wrapping paper you came up with is something he’s never had before. You’d kind of hoped that he’d just tear into it, but Sam takes the time to carefully untie your twine knot to keep the paper intact, his long fingers moving delicately along the string.

Packed inside the paper is a set of envelopes. They have teen-you written all over them, from the color of the envelopes, the glitter pen your decorated them with, and the old stickers all over the sides. Some are creased and folded awkwardly, others have smeared pen and peeling stickers. Every single one has Sam’s name written on one side.

“This is your handwriting,” he notices, curious. “...What are these?”

“These,” you enunciate, trying to contain your excitement for his reaction, “are all the love letters I wrote for you in high school.”

Pure delight slowly transforms Sam’s face. His jaw drops, and the second he realizes the absolute treasure trove of glorious teenage embarrassment he’s holding, he slaps the letters protectively to his chest. “No—way,” he gapes, eyes sparkling. “No. There’s no way. There’s no way in hell you’d ever just give me such quality blackmail material like this.”

But you did, because for whatever reason you’re totally into this loser. Those letters are full of the cringiest, sappiest writing one can possibly imagine, back when you’d convinced yourself you were a poetry-writing god and were utterly obsessed with Sam. (Well. Some things never change, but). The two of you hadn’t started dating until much later, so you figured he’d love to see just how long he’s been driving you insane. And, yeah. Blackmail material. If anyone else but Sam ever read these, the galactic weight of your embarrassment would instantly blink you out of existence.

“That’s how much I love you,” you tell him, shrugging. That simple.

The biggest, dorkiest grin takes up his whole face, and you force yourself to relax, happy to know you’ve at least given him this one thing. Without hesitation, he fishes the first letter out of the pile and carefully peels it open. The actual letter is on plain notebook paper, and, to Sam’s utter delight, is also penned in glitter. 

He clears his throat and reads the heading. “Ooh. March 6th, 1998.” His smirk is a little too evil for your liking, “We would’ve been in… tenth grade?”

You shove your face in your hands and groan.

“Dear Sam,” he says, in a high, girly voice. You smack him on the shoulder for the shitty impression of you, which just makes the laughter splitting his sides even louder. “Today, I saw Mandy talking to you by your locker—”

“Oh god.”

“She doesn’t even try to hide her stupid crush on you,” Sam reads, biting back giggles. “At least I’m subtle about it.”

Not true. You were not at all subtle about it. God, this is torture… But it’s been a long time since you’ve heard Sam sound this happy.

“I swear, Sammy, I wanted to punch her lights out so bad. She doesn’t even know you, or your family, or what we’re all really like.” Sam throws you a mean little smile at this next part, “Nobody knows you like I do.”

He loves to fuck with you just as much as you love to fuck with him, so, of course, this sends Sam into a full-body fit. He’s bent over the table wheezing for breath just a couple minutes later. You try to hold on to your shame, you really do, but he’s just too damn cute. Sam never laughs like this anymore.

You stuff your blazing hot face into his shoulder, pouting. “Are you happy, now that you’ve humiliated me?”

Sam slouches back in his chair, his whole face bright with humor. He’s so happy that he pulls you out of your chair and loops you into his lap, where you can feel every bit of his bassy laughter seeping through your back. A big, long arm seals around your waist and keeps you close to him, and while you’re distracted by his warmth and hands and cologne, he’s trapped you.

“I am,” Sam confesses, and it’s even more embarrassing how your whole body floods with butterflies. “Think you could keep reading these to me? I wanna hear them in your voice.”

Pfft. Okay. Whatever. With his stupid cute face. “Sam…” I warn.

“Authenticity! And hey,” he budges you, “I thought the birthday boy makes the decisions today?”

You make a face, just to remind him who he’s testing here. But he’s giving you the same pretty, boyish smile you wrote about in these letters a hundred times, the tension in his body gone, and the whole world is quiet just for the two of you. And yeah, it is his fucking birthday.

Sighing, you find the spot where Sam left off. He thanks you with some kisses to your shoulder that make you consider writing poetry about him all over again, and the two of you snuggle close.

“Sleep with both eyes open, Mandy Davis, you punk ass bitch. I know where you live!”

-

taglist: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon

[laszlossweetcheese]

more poly nadja laszlo and reader pls?? 😖😖

Your wish is my command <3

We'll Take Care of You

Nadja x Laszlo x Reader

Summary: Nadja and Laszlo help reader relax after a rough day.

Warnings: mega fluff!!

“Goddamn it!” You huff, slamming the door to the house as you enter. You storm up to your room, tears of frustration welling in your eyes. You don’t even stop to say hi to Guillermo on your way to your room, too heated and too close to crying to do so.

Today was absolutely awful. First, you overslept for work and got chewed out by your boss in front of several of your coworkers. Then came the various difficult customers you had to deal with throughout the day, only adding insult to injury. One customer in particular had you remake her coffee three times before screaming at you about your incompetence, nearly pushing you to quit. The cherry on top was when you tripped and fell hard onto the uneven concrete of the sidewalk on your way home. The sting of the scrape on your knee wasn’t what led you to collapse onto your bed and sob, however. The day had just thrown way too many hurdles at you and you were /so tired/. 

Only a few minutes of crying had passed before there was a gentle knock at your door. “Darling…? We can hear you crying in there, is everything okay?” Nadja calls out softly from the other side.

You sniffle and try to pull yourself together, sitting up and wiping the tears from your flushed cheeks. “I-I’m fine!” You call out, though your trembling voice doesn’t do much to make you sound convincing. 

“We’re coming in,” Laszlo calls out, and the door gently opens to reveal your two lovers with worried expressions. 

“Oh, my sweet darling baby! What happened?” Nadja coos, hurrying over to you. She takes your face into her hands gently, wiping your tears away gently.

“Who are we killing?” Laszlo asks angrily, convinced someone had hurt you and needed to be taken care of. 

“No one, I’m fine! I just…god, I had such a shit day,” you sigh, another soft sob making your chest heave. You explain the trials of the day, your tears finally slowing to a stop as you talk. 

The vampires listen to you vent, listening intently the whole time. Each of them took a seat on either side of you, comforting you with gentle touches. Nadja kept caressing your cheeks while Laszlo placed a reassuring hand on your thigh. 

“I’d say that does sound like a shit day,” Laszlo says, sharing a look with Nadja. They nod to each other and you wonder what they’re thinking. 

“Don’t you worry, sweetie! We are going to take care of you, okay? You deserve some relaxation,” Nadja says with a sweet smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead and making you smile.

“Thanks guys. I already feel much better just talking about it,” you admit, giving Laszlo’s hand a gentle squeeze as you lean into Nadja. 

They help you to your feet and lead you to the bathroom, starting a hot bath as you watch. With candles lit and the tub full, the vampires help you undress, giving you soft kisses as they go. You melt into their touches, your heart swelling with affection for them both. You sigh happily as you sink into the hot water, your body already starting to relax. They join you in the tub, with Laszlo at your back and Nadja facing you. 

“Just relax, darling. We’ve got you,” Laszlo murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You let your eyes close and lean back against his chest, a relaxed smile on your face.

Nadja lathers up a loofah with a sweet smelling body wash and begins scrubbing your body down gently, starting with your arms. She massages your tense muscles as she goes, taking her time and making sure to get every inch of you that she can. 

As Nadja lifts up each of your legs out of the water to scrub them down as well, Laszlo gets to work with the shampoo. His fingers rhythmically massage it into your scalp, eliciting another content sigh from you. You could cry from the sweetness of their touch and how careful they were being with you. 

Once you’re clean, they take their time rinsing you off, letting you stay in the hot water for as long as they can. Eventually, the water begins to go cold and they help you out, your body feeling like jello. Nadja catches you as your knees threaten to buckle beneath you, holding you up as Laszlo wraps a fluffy towel around you. Once you’ve all dried off enough, you get comfortable in your bed, a vampire on either side of you. 

“You don’t have to keep going to that awful place you know,” Nadja says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Collin handles the money just fine! You don’t have to work.”

You sigh, giving her a gentle smile. “I know…I just like having a little money of my own. I love being your familiar and would love to stay home with you, but I like having something to do outside of the house when you’re sleeping. Even when it’s stressful.” “Just don’t push yourself too hard, my sweet. We hate seeing you cry,” Laszlo says, pressing a kiss to your other cheek. 

“We really do hate to see you in pain, my love. But we also want you to do what makes you happy!” Nadja agrees, resting her head on your chest and nuzzling closer to you.

You smile, running your fingers through her hair and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What if I only work part time from now on?” You suggest, looking over at Laszlo. “That way I’m not as stressed but I can keep working and you two don’t have to worry about me so much.”

“Can I also kill your boss for yelling at you?” Laszlo asks, earning a laugh from you. 

“No, you can’t kill my boss…yet. He gets another strike and then he’s all yours,” you decide, giving Laszlo a quick kiss. You let out a breath as you get comfortable with your lovers, all of you entangled in each other’s arms. 

“Thank you again,” you whisper, your eyes closing as you start to drift off. “For everything.” With that, you drift off, comforted by your lovers’ embrace. 

[daisynik7]

Primetime

Part 3 of Dirty Thirty

🎶 Baby it's a prime time for our love, ain't nobody peekin' but the stars above. It's a prime time for our love, and heaven is betting on us. 🎶

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: Switching POVs (Kishibe third-person, reader second-person), vaginal sex (cowgirl, doggy, missionary), nipple play, spit play, cunnilingus, spanking, breeding kink, daddy kink, lots of fluff, pet names (princess, baby)

Word Count: ~6.5k

Summary: You and Kishibe are officially a couple. These are the little moments that all lead up to the big one.    

Notes: I did it. I wrote a Part 3; I hope you all like it! Title inspired by the song “Primetime” by Janelle Monae ft. Miguel, definitely recommend listening to this to set the mood right! Please read the first two parts, linked below! Likes, reblogs, and comments are all super appreciated, would love to hear what you all think!

Part 1 - Dirty Thirty | Part 2 - After Last Night | ao3

Kishibe doesn’t know how to be a good boyfriend. 

It’s been almost a month since he and his girlfriend started dating. This morning, he displays a photo booth picture at his cubicle. She convinced him to do it while they were at the beach boardwalk this past weekend, and of course, he couldn’t refuse her. He never can, despite being opposed to corny shit like that. But even he can admit that the photos turned out decent. 

Nobody is at their desk unless they’re filling out paperwork, so he doesn’t think anyone will notice. However Himeno, one of his current protégés, is keen, observant, and a goddamn nosey pest. 

“Master, is this your girlfriend?” She points at the photo strip, a hint of excitement bubbling behind her typically calm demeanor.

Not wanting this to be a bigger deal than it needs to be, he casually answers, “Yes.”

“I see.” There’s a clever smirk on her face, as if she’s plotting something cheeky to say. He’s surprised when instead, she comments, “That is a very nice picture.”

He grumbles in response, not used to small talk involving his personal life. 

“How long have you been dating?”

“Almost a month.” He pretends to be preoccupied with organizing all his forms, avoiding eye contact, wishing for this conversation to end. 

“What are you doing for your anniversary?”

This gets his attention. “Huh?”

“Your one-month anniversary. What are your plans to celebrate?”

Finally, he meets her gaze, setting aside his stack of papers. “People celebrate that?”

“Well, couples do, yes.”

He stares at her, unsure how to react. It’s been decades since his last relationship, probably during grade school if he’s remembering correctly. Obviously, the standards have changed since then, but to celebrate a month of dating? It seems trivial to him. Then again, he hasn’t had a serious girlfriend as an adult. It’s going extremely well between them, and he doesn’t want to mess this up, especially only after a few weeks into it. 

Too proud to ask his junior for advice, he takes his lunch break to eat a bowl of ramen while scrolling through his phone, searching every article he can find on how to celebrate anniversaries. He finds a few ideas that he can get on board with, and some he completely tosses out the window because of how fucking ridiculous they are. 

By Friday night, the actual day of their anniversary, he has a plan. A little before 6:00 PM, he buzzes her in and waits for the familiar knock on the door. When he opens it, she greets him with a warm smile. “Kishibe.”

She wears a modest dress, having just come from the office. Overnight bag in hand, ready to spend another weekend here at his apartment. Once inside, she drops her belongings and wraps her arms around him. “Hi.”

He returns her embrace, inhaling the pleasant scent he yearns for on the days they’re not together. “How are you?”

“Tired. I’m ready for a nice, relaxing weekend with my boyfriend.” Every time she calls him that, his chest swells with an odd sensation. He hasn’t gotten used to it yet, but it’s not unwanted. In fact, he quite likes it.

As she removes her shoes by the door, he sneaks into the kitchen to retrieve the bouquet he purchased earlier from a local florist. Thirty red roses, one for each day they’ve been a couple. He read online that this is considered romantic. 

He walks towards her with the bouquet in his grasp, her eyes and smile widening at the scene before her. “What’s this?”

“Happy one-month anniversary.” He thrusts the roses forward, hoping she takes it. She continues to stare at him with a big grin on her face.

“What?” He’s blushing now, nervous that this is all wrong. “Say something.”

She grabs the flowers, lifting them towards her nose to sniff. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

He clears his throat. “We also have reservations at your favorite restaurant in an hour.” 

At this, she lets out a small squeal. “Really? You didn’t have to do any of this,” she says, face still buried in the flowers, clearly enjoying this.

“I wanted to.” 

She sets the roses down on the counter, stepping towards him to tug playfully on his tie. “You really are the sweetest. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything. I’m such a terrible girlfriend.” 

“The worst,” he smirks, sliding his hands around her waist. 

“Can I make it up to you?” She kisses him, slow and passionate, using his tie to pull him deeper. “Show you how sorry I am?”

He plays along, knowing exactly where this is leading. “You better be sorry. I’m pretty upset.”

“I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me, then.” 

“We’ll see.” They walk to the couch in tandem, gazing into each other’s lust filled eyes.

When he’s sat, she straddles him. “Do you remember the night we first met? We were right here on this couch.”

“How can I forget?” He roams up and down her back, the fabric of her dress silky on his calloused fingers.

“Well, my memory is a little hazy. Remind me.” She guides his hands to her chest, kneading her breasts.

“You’re being very naughty right now,” he mutters in his low voice. “First, no gift. Now this. Seems like you want to be punished.”

“Yeah, I do. I need to be punished. I’m a very bad girlfriend.” She peers at him with a desperate expression, eyes gleaming with desire. He can’t help but falter under her gaze.

“Fuck, you’re asking for it.” He lifts the hem of her dress over her ass, feeling for her panties. Sliding his fingers beneath the lace, bunching it in his fist it to bury between her ass cheeks, exposing her beautiful bottom. Perfectly bare for a good spanking. She sucks in a breath, anticipating it, aching for it. He presses a gentle kiss to her ear before delivering a loud smack, focused on the jiggle of her supple flesh upon contact. 

“Fuck, baby. Do it again,” she demands, grinding on his lap.

He repeats, this time on the opposite side, massaging the tender skin after. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She presses her forehead to his. “You never do. Don’t worry.”

They kiss as they strip their remaining clothes. Soon, they’re completely naked on the couch, her on his lap, kissing along his neck. He reaches his fingers towards her pussy, caressing his thumb on her clit. 

“Baby,” she whines. “I want you inside me. I want to ride this cock until we both come.”

“Then do it, sweetie. I’m all yours.” 

It’s reminiscent of their first time. They were hasty that night, desperate for a quick fuck with a total stranger. Indulging in wicked fantasies they both needed satiated. This time, it’s more intimate. He pays attention to the sound of her heartbeat, the warmth in her cheeks, goosebumps forming on the most sensitive spots of her skin, the angelic sounds coming from her lips. Memorizing it all until it’s ingrained in his mind.

His cock is sprung against his abdomen, already leaking precum at the tip. He grabs hold of his erection, rubbing the head onto her puffy clit, tapping it loudly. Wet slaps spurring her to rut into his lap faster. Her hands are clasped around her tits, fingers pinching at her hardening nipples, erotic as ever in front of him. It’s a captivating sight he’s seen before, but always marvels, still in disbelief at his luck one month ago when he first laid eyes on her.

He strokes himself, spreading precum along the shaft, though it’s not enough. “Spit on it, princess. Get it wet for me.”

She nods, bowing her head to dribble a warm stream of saliva down onto his cock, coating his dick. Slick enough, she lifts up to position him at her entrance, sinking down gradually until she’s sat on his lap again, wiggling her ass to get herself comfortable. 

He hums, relishing the sensation of being nestled inside her precious cunt, holding her in a snug embrace. They stay like this for a moment, him sliding one hand around her breast, kissing her nipple. 

“Kishibe,” she breathes out, eager for more. 

He sucks it plump against his lips, flicking his tongue on it, listening for her pleasured moans with each lick. His cock twitches inside her, still hard, surrounded by her wet heat. The temptation to fuck her is almost irresistible; however, seeing her in this blissful state is too marvelous to rush. 

“Baby, fuck,” she whines, as he works on her other tit, pulling it taut with his mouth. It’s his favorite, witnessing her unravel on top of him. And tonight is a celebration. It makes it all the more special.

Releasing her, he leans back, holding her sides once more, watching her slowly rock back and forth on his thighs. “Go ahead. Ride me. Fuck me till we both come. You can do it.” 

Using her knees for leverage, she rises slightly, keeping just his tip inside, them sinks back down, repeating so that she’s bouncing on his cock steadily. 

“There you go. Use that cock, baby. Just like that,” he whispers, staring at his dick disappearing into her pussy. He stays still, letting her do all the work, resisting the urge to slam his hips into her. He wants to savor this, indulge in it as long as he possibly can. 

Cupping her face, he teases her lips with his thumb, slipping it inside her mouth for her to suck on. She holds his wrist, sticking it further down her tongue, spreading her saliva around him. He pulls it out, a string of shiny spit connected to her lips as he reaches down to touch her clit. 

“Ah, Kishibe. That feels so good,” she praises, riding him faster. 

“You’re getting close, I know it. Come for me, baby. Make us both come.” He holds her close, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths, messy and wet. His thumb toys with her swollen clit, her wanton moans vibrating against his lips. His abdomen is clenched tight, ready for release. He wants to spill inside her, give her his all, just as she does for him.

Unable to resist any longer, he grips her bottom, holding her in place. He starts thrusting up into her, feet planted firmly to the floor, couch squeaking with every plunge of his hips. She’s tight around him, slick already creamy on his shaft, her fingers rubbing fast on her bud to reach her climax faster. Her high-pitched whimpers and obscene squelches of arousal spur him on, driving him further and further off the edge. They come together, cum filling up her pussy until it’s leaking between them, the sticky aftermath evidence of their passionate love making. They catch their breaths, Kishibe relaxing on the couch as she slumps over him, face buried in his neck. Soon, she starts giggling. He can’t help but join. 

“You really are a terrible girlfriend, making me come right before dinner,” he teases her.

“I had to do my part after you planned such a lovely evening.” She sighs happily. “I’m so lucky to have a thoughtful boyfriend.” 

“It’s really nothing,” he waves off.

“It’s definitely something. I’m truly so lucky,” she reiterates, nuzzling comfortably against him. “So lucky.”

A while passes before he reluctantly suggests, “We should get ready soon.”

“Wait. Let’s just stay like this for another minute or two,” she murmurs, clinging to him tighter.

He chuckles, thankful she suggested it, because that’s exactly what he wants to do too. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

“Happy anniversary, Kishibe.”

“Happy anniversary, princess.”

~~~

The first time Kishibe tells you he loves you, he’s drunk.

He has an assignment outside of the city, food and lodging included, staying at a hotel with his protégé, Himeno, who you’ve met several times in the three months you’ve been dating. You’re well acquainted with her, so much so that you even have her number, in case of emergencies. However, she often texts you anyways just to chat, which you don’t mind at all. 

On the last day of his mission, he informs you that he’ll be out for drinks with his partner and a few other members of Public Safety. It must have been a successful job, considering there were no deaths, either civilians or devil hunters. It’s always a relief, knowing that Kishibe has survived another day.

You lie in bed, scrolling through the myriad of texts you’ve exchanged with him over the past week. Although he considers himself a man of few words, he never fails to send you a message whenever he can, whether it’s a good morning text, a quick check in, even a snapshot of what he’s eating that day. Tonight, he barely contacts you, busy celebrating with his comrades. You can’t blame him, but there’s no denying it; you miss him.

Being in your own bed on a Friday night, in the dinky apartment you share with your not-so-stellar roommate, is a feeling you’ve happily become unfamiliar with. You wish you were in Kishibe’s luxurious king-sized bed instead, snuggled in his strong arms, being kissed and licked all over. His gruff voice hot in your ear, whispering sweet nothings that make you melt. 

Without thinking, you send him a text, simply stating I miss you. You don’t wait for a reply, distracting yourself with a show, surrounded by blankets and pillows to fill the void left by his absence. When did you become so needy? 

On the verge of sleep, the vibration and ping of your phone stirs you awake. It’s almost 11 PM. Your heart flutters, hoping it’s your boyfriend. You’re surprised to see Himeno’s name on the notification. 

It’s a picture of Kishibe, slumped over at a table, clearly drunk. His other colleagues pose beside him, some waving peace signs, others sticking their tongues out, all of them holding beers. You chuckle at the image, happy to see all of them smiling and lively. Even if your boyfriend is intoxicated out of his wit’s end, at least you know he’s alive. Death is a new fear you’ve inherited since being seriously involved with a devil hunter. You spend every waking moment together, treating it like it’s your last, because you never know if it is. 

As you admire the photo, you suddenly get a call from the sender. “Hello?” you answer.

Himeno’s voice is soft through the speaker. “Hi there, friend. Did you like what I sent you?” You imagine her leaning on the wall outside the bar, preparing to smoke.

You laugh. “I do. Thank you for that. I hope he’s not giving you too much trouble.”

“On the contrary, he was our source of entertainment tonight.” On the other end of the line, you hear the drag of her cigarette.

“Really?”

She lets out a puff before answering, “Yes. He wouldn’t shut up about how amazing his girlfriend is.”

A rush of heat surrounds your cheeks, either from flattery or embarrassment. “What?”

“He kept gushing on and on about you, it was non-stop.”

“That doesn’t sound like Kishibe. Are you sure you’ve got the right one in there?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she chuckles. “To be fair, he’s had quite a lot to drink. And his tolerance has turned to shit. What’s up with that?”

You’ve recently noticed the subtle changes in his drinking habits. His flask stays on the dish rack all weekend, coincidentally whenever you’re visiting. He rarely orders liquor when you’re out to dinner. He only indulges in a bottle of wine the two of you share occasionally over a home-cooked meal. 

“I don’t know,” you answer, not wanting to admit anything on Kishibe’s behalf. 

You hear her hum in response, taking another hit of her cigarette. “I think it’s because he’s happy. He doesn’t need to forget anymore because he’s got you.”

The words hang tight in your throat, leaving you speechless.

She giggles faintly, aware of the depth her statement holds. “Anyways, I called in case you want the address to our hotel. Master is staying in the room right next to mine. Given the state he’s in, he may need his lovely girlfriend to take care of him.”

You think about this for a minute, still reeling over her touching sentiment just a few seconds ago. Before you can refuse, she offers, “I’ll call you a cab and charge it to work. Consider it a service you’re fulfilling for Public Safety, assisting our highest ranked Devil Hunter.”

Eventually, you agree, thanking her for the idea. She chats with you a while longer as you hastily pack a gym bag with all the essentials, excited to reunite with Kishibe. You hang up with her once you’re out of the apartment, cab already waiting for you. Ten minutes to your destination, you text Himeno your status, allowing her time to bring him back to the hotel to meet you. 

You’re waiting in the lobby when you hear the doors open to see Kishibe hunched between Himeno and another colleague. Her face lights up when she sees you, prompting her to nudge him in the ribs. “Hey, Master. Guess who’s here?”

He lifts his head up slowly, eyes completely blitzed, as he rasps, “Huh?”

You approach them, grinning from his ridiculous expression. It takes a while for him to process, blinking rapidly, as if correcting his vision. When he finally realizes it’s you, he stands up a little straighter and whispers your name. 

“Surprise,” you say, waving in front of him. 

He repeats your name again, removing himself from his coworkers to wrap his arms around you. The smell of liquor is intense, indicating just how drunk he really is. 

“I guess our work here is done,” Himeno smirks. “I think Master is in good hands now. Let’s go, Arai.” She passes you the key card to the room, giving you one last wink before they leave towards the elevators. 

“Kishibe, let’s go to the room now,” you tell him, his body drooped over you. 

“Don’t leave me,” he whines, voice husky from inebriation. 

“I’m not, we’re going to your room together,” you explain, rubbing his back. “Can you walk with me to the elevator?”

He nods languidly, dragging his feet beside you as you make your way up to his room. Inside, he immediately shrugs his overcoat off and collapses into bed face first. You sit at the end of the bed, patiently removing his shoes from his feet. 

In the bathroom, you soak a small bath towel in warm water, wringing out any excess liquid. You grab a fresh bottle of water from the mini fridge and crack it open, pouring it into a glass for easy access. Kishibe grunts into the pillow as you sit beside him, rolling him over so he’s face up. When he sees you, he grins. “Am I dead?” 

“Of course not, sweetie,” you answer, placing the warm towel on his forehead, gently pressing your palm on top. 

“Then why is there an angel here with me?” He lifts his arm to point at you. 

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that?”

He reaches for you, tugging at your sleeve. “The only thing that’s ridiculous is how fucking beautiful you are.” He lays your hand on his cheek, nestling into your palm like a puppy. It’s a side of him that you’ve seen brief glimpses of, but never to this extent. 

“You’re drunk,” you tease him, tapping your thumb at his chin.

“Drunk in love,” he replies, chuckling to himself.

Love. Maybe you’re both too old to put such meaning into words. There’s no doubt that it’s there, never admitted out loud. Why bother saying it when it’s so obvious?

You caress his cheek, tracing the scar that you love so much. He’s told you the story behind it more than once, each time, a new detail added that you tuck away into your treasure box of him in your brain. 

You love everything about him. His past, his present. Flaws and perfections, or the lack thereof. He’s rough around the edges, definitely not sugar-coated, even a bit intense. His immense strength is hidden beneath his stoic demeanor, reserved specifically to hunt devils, never fully revealed to you. Still, you feel safe with him, as if all potential dangers are thwarted in his mere presence. You’ve heard it enough to know that he’s a force to be reckoned with, a serious outlier in a job where young people die and growing old doesn’t exist. He’s the exception. 

And you’re the same for him. A life beyond the confines of devil hunting. An escape that doesn’t involve a bottle. A chance at normalcy in a world where nothing for him is normal. It almost never happened. The first night you met, he warned you about his lifestyle, watched you walk away for your own sake. And now, you’re the exception. 

He gazes at you with half-lidded eyes, still intoxicated, but fully aware. Smiling, he whispers your name. “I love you.”

You stare at him, startled by his candid confession. The words are on the tip of your tongue, easy and effortless, because you truly feel it. But you don’t say it back, thinking he’ll forget this conversation in the morning. You want it to be special, not in the midst of his drunken stupor. 

So, you keep quiet, gradually removing his tie, unbuttoning his shirt, and loosening his belt. After you change and brush your teeth, you return to him, coaxing him into drinking water, which he does, before you both settle under the covers, cuddling. Eventually, he falls asleep, you following him soon after. 

In the morning, you wake up to Kishibe caressing your cheek, delicately petting your temple. He’s turned towards you, shirtless and smiling. “Good morning, princess.”

You bite your lip, happy to see him. “Good morning.”

“You surprised me last night, didn’t you?” He pulls you in closer. 

You burrow your face against his bare chest, last night’s booze almost completely worn off. “You can blame Himeno for that. She’s very convincing.”

“I’ll make sure to thank her. Somehow, she knew that I needed you.” He cradles you, kissing your forehead. “By the way, you owe me something.”

“What?”

“You know what.” 

You look up at him. “You remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Pressing his forehead to yours, he whispers, “I love you.”

The second time Kishibe says it, he’s completely sober. And this time, you say it back. 

~~~

When he asks her to move in with him, he almost doesn’t go through with it. 

It’s a Sunday morning. They’ve been dating for six months now, spending most of their time in his apartment, snuggled in his king-sized bed. She often complains about her place, the typical grievances of an adult woman living with a roommate she doesn’t particularly get along with. But it’s not her woes that convince him to ask her. It’s his own selfish desires. 

He wants to wake up every single morning to her pretty face, to that warm smile that ignites every nerve in his body, that cute laugh that plays like the most majestic melody in his head. He doesn’t need drugs or caffeine to give him that energy boost. He needs her.

Today is different than other Sundays. She warned him the night before; she needs to leave early to attend to some roommate business. They’re having issues with the refrigerator, and she, apparently, needs to be there to deal with it. 

They cuddle in bed, enveloped by blankets and body heat, kissing each other softly. This usually leads to something steamy, but not today. When she pulls away to get ready to leave, he’s disappointed, enough that he mutters, “Don’t.”

She turns to face him with a confused expression. “Don’t what?”

He pauses, doubting himself if this is the right moment, so he keeps quiet. 

She returns to the bed, hopping on top of him, palms at his cheeks. “Don’t what, sweetie?”

“Don’t leave,” he musters, through gritted teeth.

Giggling, she nuzzles her nose against his. “You know I have to.”

“You don’t. Not if you live here with me.”

“Are you asking me to move in?”

“Yeah, I am.”

She squeals, smile incapable of being any bigger. The reaction he was hoping for. “Took you long enough. I can’t believe I get to live with you.” She kisses his scar, then his forehead. “My baby.” A smooch on the lips. “My new roommate.” 

He keeps her there, kissing her deep, tongue slipping inside her mouth. She moans into him, grinding her hips on his lap. 

“I’m taking this as a yes, then?”

She nods, sucking on his lower lip. “Mm-hm.”

“Don’t you have to meet your roommate soon?” he reminds her, slipping beneath her shirt to fondle her breasts.

“I don’t fucking care anymore. I’m going to be living with my boyfriend soon. She can get mad at me all she wants.”

He never gets sick of hearing her call him that. Her boyfriend. He’s hasn’t been anyone’s for the longest time. It feels good to be hers. “Are you still sore from last night?” He reaches his other hand down to rub her clit over her panties. 

“A little bit,” she answers, scattering kisses along his neck.

“Let me eat it then,” he whispers, sucking on her ear lobe, slipping past the fabric to slide his finger up and down her folds. “Ride my fucking face. Give me my breakfast in bed. Want to eat this pussy until I’m full.”

It’s safe to say that the relationship with her old roommate is properly ruined this day, in favor of her new one.

~~~

Kishibe is the first to mention having kids. 

A year into your relationship, he tags along to your niece’s birthday party. The mother, Hina, who is your best friend, has already met Kishibe on multiple occasions, but never in a setting like this. A children’s party is another level of crazy that even the insane devil hunter himself might not be able to bear. 

After the usual round of greetings, your niece, Maki, immediately stands in front of him to peer at his face, curious. In his gruff voice, he greets, “Happy birthday, Maki,” proceeding to pat her awkwardly on the head. 

She continues to stare at him, a glint of suspicion in her expression. “Are you an FBI agent or something?”

For some reason, he decided to wear his work attire to a children’s party. You’re trying to contain your laughter as he clears his throat to answer her. “Actually, I am a devil hunter.”

Maki’s eyes go round. “Devil…hunter…?”

“Yup.”

Without taking her gaze off of him, she starts yelling for all her friends, who come running immediately, all marveling at Kishibe. He glances at you, brows twitching slightly in concern. All you can do is grin at him, knowing he’s in for it.

For the next hour or so, the kids take advantage of this opportunity to entertain their premiere guest, challenging him to see how many of them he can carry at once, demanding to be shown his “special” moves, even go so far as to gnaw at his overcoat, acting like true devils. He takes it all in stride, his stoic expression cracking occasionally into the tiniest smile.

You sneak him a few slices of pizza as he bicep curls three of the kids, including birthday girl Maki. Before he eats, he gives you a smooch on the cheek, indicating that he’s actually enjoying himself.

From the other side of the room, you sit next to Hina, who’s carrying her other child, baby Kenji. You’re playing peek-a-boo when your friend asks, “So, do you think you and Kishibe will ever have kids?”

“We haven’t even talked about marriage yet, we’re for sure not thinking about kids.”

“You two don’t talk about that stuff?”

It’s been a year now since you’ve been with Kishibe, and it’s still going extremely well. You’ve been preoccupied with enjoying the relationship that you haven’t thought to discuss important matters yet. You shrug and answer, “No, not really.”

“Well, don’t you think you should bring it up?” 

You think for several seconds before answering, “We’re taking it one step at a time. We’re fine where we’re at now.” 

She gives you a look, as if she wants to say something else, but she ends up dropping it. Maki’s voice rings out from the living room, calling for her. “Oh shoot, can you hold Kenji for a bit? Maki needs me.”

You agree, holding your arms out to cradle him. He peers up at you with the whimsy and wonder that most babies radiate. You smile, finding a comfortable position to hold him in. 

“You’re a natural.” You look up to see Kishibe standing in front you, a birthday hat on his head, probably forced there by the rugrats.

“And you’re a hit,” you reply, grinning. “The kids love you. Are you having fun?”

He removes his hat to place on you instead. “I don’t mind it.” He hovers over your face to give you a playful pinch on your cheek.

Kenji starts to fuss, to which you focus your attention back to him, cooing until he’s peaceful again. From your peripheral, you spot your boyfriend watching you intently.

“You’d make a good mother,” he states, quietly. 

You look up at him, surprised by his statement. “Really?”

“Yeah. You look good like this,” he comments, nonchalant, as if he’s playing it off. You remain silent, still unsure how to respond. 

Then, he comments, “I think we’d be good parents, you and I.”

“You do?” You beam at him, impossible now to contain. 

“Yeah. We’d be great,” he reiterates, gazing at you with a soft, loving expression. 

On the drive home from the party, Kishibe rests his palm on your thigh as he steers with the other. There’s a new vibe between you now, knowing that you’re both on the same page about having children. He actually seems excited about it. 

Back at the apartment, after you put away all of the leftovers from the party, you both retreat into the bedroom to change. While you’re stripped almost bare, aside from your bottoms, he approaches you, hugging you from behind as he kisses your nape. 

You giggle, craning your neck to face him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he whispers, grazing your ear with his lips.

“About what?”

“Making a baby with you.” His voice is low and sultry as his hands glide to your waist, slowly slipping under the elastic of your pajamas. 

“Are you serious right now?” 

“Mm-hm.”

His fingers find your pussy, rubbing the fabric against your clit. The other hand tugs your pants past your ass, causing them to fall to the floor, bunched at your ankles. You let out an exasperated moan, almost annoyed at his timing, but most definitely turned on. You lift your feet to shove your clothes away, reaching behind to palm his erection. Of course he isn’t wearing clothes, clad in only his boxer briefs, which are tight around his growing bulge. You’ve been ambushed, and you don’t know whether to be worried or horny. Probably the latter. 

Within a minute, the two of you are naked on top of the bed, not bothering to lie under the covers. He kisses you all over your body, starting at your needy lips, dragging his tongue down to abdomen to nestle his face into your plush stomach. Seconds later, his mouth is surrounding your clit, swishing his spit, swirling his tongue, your whimpers filling the room. You spread your thighs wider, grabbing onto the top of his head, binding his hair into a fist to pull him off when it gets too sensitive. Though he never lets you, always relentless when he eats you out. 

When you come, he slurps on your slick until he’s satisfied, dipping his tongue deep into your pussy walls, collecting every drop of you into his mouth. Once he’s finished, he climbs on top, kissing you on the lips, still wet with your arousal, tasting it for yourself. You wrap your fingers around his hard cock, stroking him before he stands at the edge of the bed, pulling you towards him to position himself in front of you. You hear him open the bedside drawer, retrieving the regularly used bottle of lube, the snap, squelch, and click a familiar sound.

He guides his dick into you slowly, pulling away at the slightest resistance, only to thrust back in gently. Your cunt squeezes around him as he fucks you, bent over your chest to suck on your nipples simultaneously. Without warning, he releases you from his mouth to hoists your legs up onto his shoulder, cock plunging farther into your pussy. 

Surprised, you cry out, “Kishibe!”

His eyes are wild, an animal in heat, fucking you harder and deeper. “I want to fuck a baby in you just like this. Breed you until you’re round in your belly.” He slides his palm over your stomach, stroking around your navel. “Right here.”

There are tears in your eyes from the pleasure, your throat dry from the excessive moans he’s drawing out from you. All you can do is take it. 

“You fucking love this, don’t you? I’ll be such a good daddy to you and our baby,” he grunts.

You nod your head erratically, babbling, “Fuck, I want that so bad. I want that so bad, daddy.”

He chuckles, breathing staggered. “You like calling me daddy now, knowing I’m going to breed you. Knowing I’m going to give you my fucking seed.” He’s hitting your sweet spot over and over, fingers rapidly toying with your clit. 

“Fuck, right there!”

“Daddy’s hitting it good, huh? Giving it to you so fucking good. Gonna fill this pretty pussy with all of my daddy cum, isn’t that right, princess?” He huffs filthy words at you, completely immersed in whatever carnal instinct is controlling him in this moment. 

You tremble all over, skin hot with passion as you climax. He pumps his cock into you, spilling his load until his balls are emptied out. He pulls out slowly, watching his creamy cum leak out of your slit, enjoying it like a masterpiece that he helped paint. 

He lies beside you, both of you calming down from your orgasms. “Was that too much?” he asks, rubbing your belly again.

“No. It was great,” you reassure him, smiling as you cover his hand with yours, entwining your fingers. “Didn’t think you’d have a baby fever all of a sudden.” 

“To be fair, I wasn’t sure I wanted kids. Not since recently.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because now I have a chance at a life like that. I never knew that was possible for me until I met you.”

Your heart swells at this, blinking your eyes to rid any residual or oncoming tears. You lean close to kiss him softly on the cheek. “I love you, Kishibe.”

“I love you too, princess.”

~~~

He proposes on a sunny afternoon in the middle of the week during spring. Cherry blossom season. 

A few months ago, on a whim, they went ring shopping, for shits and giggles. She got her finger sized, which he noted, and she gazed at a particular ring for a good two minutes, a twinkle in her eye that was unmistakable. He knew that was the one, just as he knows that she is the one. 

He bought it two weeks later, and since then, it’s been in his pocket, rolling around in there for months now. He’s been close a few times already, grazing the box with his fingers, ready to whip it out during an especially romantic moment. Still, it never felt right. 

That is, until today. 

They’re both on their lunch breaks, walking off their meal at a nearby park, fingers interlaced seamlessly. This has become routine for them, something they’ve become used to. But every time, he craves it more and more. The intimacy of it. The normalcy of it. He’s getting accustomed to feeling human, and not solely a devil hunting machine. And it’s all thanks to her. 

It’s been two years now, living together in domestic bliss, practically inseparable, aside from their day jobs. He’d carry her around in his pocket if he could, or he’d shrink himself down to be in hers. Either way, he wishes they were always with each other. 

He’s become a man dependent on a woman. If you’d ask him three years ago if he’d ever become like this, he’d scoff and deny it. Now, he doesn’t bat an eye to admit it. He’s fucking needy, and unashamed about it.

They are by no means perfect. A relationship without flaws doesn’t exist in the real world. They argue, as regular couples do, but never going to bed angry. No matter who’s right or wrong, they both listen to each other and talk it out. What he loves about her is that she’s neither a dream nor a fantasy; she’s real. Perfectly imperfect, just as he is. He never has to worry about waking up and finding out it was his imagination all along. He knows she exists by the way her body feels around him, the warmth of skin against his, the lingering scent of her shampoo on the pillows and sheets. Bits and pieces of her scattered through their apartment, mixed with traces of him, combining into a beautiful, cohesive mess. 

Kishibe never considered himself a sentimental person, not until her. Now, everything has meaning. Nothing is too little or insignificant to cherish. Movie stubs, blurry polaroid pictures, a Dirty Thirty! sash and sparkly tiara still hanging on the corner of the vanity. It’s reminders that their time together has never been wasted, especially when life can be cut short in any moment. 

They find a park bench to sit at, watching soft, pink petals float lazily through the breeze. She rests her head on his shoulder, observing all the blossoms falling from the trees. “I wish we could stay like this forever. I don’t want to go back to work.”

He squeezes her hand, hoping his palms aren’t sweating. “Me too.” It’s rare for Kishibe to be nervous, but for some reason, he is. In his pocket, he feels for the vechalvet box, housing the ring. Second guessing himself if this is really right.

“Let’s run away. Quit our jobs and live off the grid,” she teases. It’s not the first time she’s joked about it. They often do, wishing they could neglect the responsibilities of the real world to indulge in each other endlessly. 

“Why don’t we get married first. Then we’ll plan our escape.” 

“We’re practically married, aren’t we?” She nuzzles her cheek against him. “I already consider you my husband.”

He swallows hard, adrenaline coursing this his veins. The moment finally here. “Let’s make it official then.”

It’s a Wednesday afternoon, as mundane as the last, when Kishibe asks her to marry him. It becomes the most special day of his life because she says yes. 

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

End Notes: Thank you all for reading this Kishibe fic! I hope you enjoyed reading just as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Taglist: one of my fave people on here @liliorsstuff-blog! thank you for always showing me love and supporting me, love you! 💜