0-k-4 · 11 months ago
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i can't even quote Les plus bornés because every lyric is a slap in the face. How does he do that. Why is he so GOOD but also sometimes write shit that could have been written by Indila. How does he function. Also his cover of La danse des canards is stupidly good for what it is
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lesbiansanemi · 7 months ago
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I am so fucking sick of living with my roommate and his fuck ass boyfriend. Also watching my roommate burn every single one of his (already rather minimal, I might add) bridges for this guy is also kind of painful but also his relationship with me is one of said bridges so I'm almost past the point of even feeling bad for him lmao
#i have had to piss for probably the better part of an hour now#because they decided to take a shower together and have been in there for well OVER an hour now#and this is a nightly occurence atp sometimes MULTIPLE times a day#we have one bathroom.... can yall not be considerate enough to not be in there for up to TWO HOURS AT A TIME???#also it's such a waste of fucking water....#idk we've hit a point where i literally hear the bf doing anything and i get pissed off#but also tell me why i'm sitting in my room (which shares a wall with the bathroom) and i can hear this man hacking and spitting shit up#and this is also something that happens multiple times a day#like.... dude.... why are you spitting up toothpaste so fucking loudly oh my fucking god#but yeah no i'm like my roommate's only friend atp and he's about to not have me lmao like we're about to reach#'i'm cutting you off when i move out' levels of me being pissed off with this whole situation type shit#and apparently the bf convinced him to come out to his family which his mom was chill which is good#his dad's side of the family though....? not great. and my roommate KNEW that would be the case cuz we'd talked about it before#also love that my roommate has constantly talked about moving out of the city we live in because he hates and also there's no good career#opportunities for him here (which is true)#and now. MAGICALLY. he's like 'idk i think it'd be best for me to stay here'#like oh my GOD???? are you hearing yourself???? are you fucking stupid???? you fucking hate it here???#but sure throw your life away and ruin all your meaningful relationships for a guy you met six months ago jfc#and the thing is i *know* my roommate we've been close CLOSE friends for nearly a decade now#i know he is not like this.... like yeah he's being insane by allowing this but also i know these aren't the kinds of decisions he would ma#and also i know he wouldn't treat me like this all on his own#it's the deranged fucking control freak of a guy he decided to date and my roommate has too many of his own issues to put his foot down#about certain things and tell the guy no so he's just allowing him to completely take over his life#and fuck everything up until the bf is the only thing he has left once it's all said and done#and yeah. it's painful to watch. but also wtf am i supposed to do because obviously my opinion is not respected nor wanted regarding this#that has been made PAINFULLY clear#ugh this is so fucking horrendous#what is it with ppl who start to date someone and then go clinically fucking insane and destroy their lives all for this one person#who. realistically. they barely know in comparison to all the other ppl in their life#like explain it to me jfc
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bootyful-seventeen · 1 year ago
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i am too mentally exhausted to even deal with this shit anymore with my mom and grandma and low key wish i'd go comatose for a few years to be left alone tbh
#had a clean up service come by to see the damage and give a quote on the estimate and my grandma wasnt having it#she got upset and started crying to them about she has only 1 daughter and is trying to help her and they're trying to tell her that keepin#all that junk isn't gonna be helping anyone especially my mom but she wasn't getting it and i said i'm not helping clean the junk that's#all around the house cuz i'm tired of it all and having to manage my emotions since i am for sure emtotionally stunted from my childhood#and have to deal with a schitzophrenic mom and an absent sister who's balls deep in denial while i'm struggling to find a job here#and my grandma always stressing me ot saying she's gonna kick me out isn't fucking helping here at all like she thinks it does#so when they left she spent all day sobbing on the phone how i'm a terrible granddaughter who wants to throw out good stuff#when i'm not gonna keep helping sell shit for my mom cuz my sister can do it as her family contribution since she did nothing since dad die#and the thing is i gave them all options on clearing shit out cuz i know this family by now and shit doesn't get tossed but it migrates#cuz i said months ago i can ask some friends if they could come down and help sort and declutter#grandma said no to that and said she'll kick me out if i do it and she didn't want to pay for my mom's shit to get moved into a storage uni#she leaves the clean up to my mom and i think the backyard got worse but she didn't call anyone to throw out the junk like she threatened t#so i call a fucking hoarders clean up service cuz that's what my family is on my mom's side at this point and the city will be called too#and she has this reaction cries all day and calls everyone to say i'm horrible and yells at me saying i'm the one killing her with stress#when she's already been doing that for months to herself when i'm just tired and possibly mildly depressed or something idk#i barely leave my room and don't go outside except to walk my dog but idk cuz my family's attittude was we don't go to doctors cuz#cuz they're for crazy people but of course it's gotta switch up for my mom and no one else and i'm just sick of it all#grandma doesn't accept free help and she won't accept help that i pay for myself with my money set aside for school so i'm done#unlike her when i say i'll do something i stick to it so i'm not doing shit anymore unless i can call a friend to help with this mess#it's gonna sound like such a horrible thing but i can't wait for my family to die so i can live in a clean home again and get help#like deep serious help cleaning and big time grief councelling cuz i barely had time to process my dad's death and being the one to find hi#and that was just this february like god i am going to need so much fucking therapy in my future it's almost rediculous#and probably say screw my mom's side and visit my dad's side a lot more since they seem to be the normal ones in this shit family tree#at least they're not stupid and leave junk everywhere where one neighbour getting sick of not being able to sit outside and enjoy their yar#without mountains of junk staring them right in the face and landing a notice from the city to clean up especially since#we have chainlink fences and at least 7 neighbours can see the backyard and everyone can see the front porch when passing by#i'm just tired of living in these suffocating households and even wanna file a report myself to kick them into gear#its horrible living like this and no one should live surrounded by junk and things they never use or even garbage
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alexiroflife · 4 months ago
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"first day"
fluff, happy fushiguro family, slice of life, megs' first day of school send-off
Synopsis: you've been dating toji for a while now and megumi subconsciously calls you mom for the first time on his way out the door
to sum it up: you adore the little family you've come to be a part of
WC: 1,701
Warning(s): none
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"Megs!" you call out, standing by the front door awaiting the dark-haired boy's arrival. He soon shuffles around the corner from his room, throwing a bag over his shoulder with a tired expression on his face.
His father turns to watch him walk in, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter. "The hell were you doing in there that took you so long?"
"Nothing," Megumi grumbles, moving to brush past the two of you to rush to the door. "I just wanted to look presentable, that's all."
"So you took thirty minutes to get ready?" Toji quirks a brow.
"Believe it or not, dad, some would say that's not enough time to get ready in the morning."
"Not at all, actually," you agree.
Toji tugs the corner of his mouth in judgment. " Well, you should know," he says to you. "You spend at least ten years in the bathroom when we have somewhere to go."
You scoff, rolling your eyes. "That's such an overreaction. I never take any longer than an hour." Megumi and his father exchange knowing looks and you place your hand on your hip. "What?"
"Don't worry baby," Toji assures you. "It's okay to be in denial."
"We've timed it before. The last time we all went out to dinner as a family, you took two and a half hours to get dressed," Megumi adds.
"That's only because I had to shower and pick out an outfit then do my hair and makeup," you defend.
"Isn't that a little overkill? It takes me half that time to shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, and get some homework done."
"Whatever. Your sister would understand," you sigh.
"Unfortunately, she may be worse than you."
"Women," Toji tsks. You slap his bicep and he pretends to flinch, smirking down at you playfully. "Ouch."
"Alright, well, I'm ready now. I don't wanna be late," the sixteen year old says, turning back to reach for the door handle.
"Ah ah ah, wait!" you stop him. "You're not going anywhere without me getting a good look at you. Turn around, I wanna see how the uniform fits."
Megumi lowers his head and complies, turning back around stiffly for you to admire him. You press your hand to your lips to conceal your smile, eyes gleaming with pride as you look over the sharp navy jacket and pants he adorns.
"Awwww," you coo. "It fits perfectly! How does it feel?"
"Pretty good," Megumi nods, moving his arm around slightly to show his mobility in the fabric. "It's comfortable too. It shouldn't be a problem during missions."
"I still can't believe how quickly time has gone by," you muse. "You're already going into your first year at Jujutsu High! Are you excited?"
"You better be," Toji grunts. "Your uncle Gojo hasn't gotten off my ass about your enrollment for years. At least now, he'll finally shut up."
"I still don't understand why I have to have him as a teacher. He's such a moron, I doubt he'll teach us anything useful," Megumi mumbles.
"Moron or not, he's the strongest sorcerer of the modern age and he's helped out so much. I'm sure he'll be able to give you a good experience," you say positively.
"We talkin' about the same Gojo here? The one who trashed my house playing tag with Megumi and the dogs in the living room?" Toji points out and his son grits his teeth at the memory.
"Oh come on, Satoru was like twenty one back then. I can only imagine the crazy shit you've with the kids when you were raising them," you tease.
"You don't even want to know," Megumi exhales.
"Please, you came out just fine, didn’t ya?” Toji says, reaching out his hand to ruffle at Megumi's spiky hair. The teen recoils, craning his head away and shielding himself with his arm.
"Quit it. I'm not five anymore."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're all grown up now, I know. Gonna be a first-grade sorcerer before I can even blink an eye."
"Who said that I would be first grade? I'm only a first year."
"Yeah, and look at who your pops is," Toji grins. "Plus, you got an advantage that I never had. You'll do just fine."
Megumi hums indifferently, doubting himself momentarily but accepting the words nonetheless. "Alright, are we ready?"
"No, not yet!" you pull out your phone quickly and open the camera. "I need to get pictures."
The blue-eyed boy slumps. "(Y/n), I gotta go."
"I know, I know, just a few," you promise, holding your camera up to capture his awkward figure in the frame. "Okay, smile."
Megumi doesn't, and of course you don't actually expect him to. Instead, he calmly stares at the camera with his arms at his sides, unsure of what to do with themselves. Toji moves to stand behind you, leaning down to take a peak at the million pictures you're snapping.
"Toji, go stand with him so I can get one with the both of you."
The two groan simultaneously. "Doll, can we just focus on gettin' the kid to school?"
"It's fine. His stuff is already moved into his dorm. We have time."
"But-"
"Shut up and go stand with your son, now," you glare firmly up at the green-eyed man and he huffs.
"Yes, ma'am."
Toji raises a hand to his hip and tilts his head boredly as he stands beside Megumi, the two of them sharing the exact same blank stare as they look into the camera. You squeal happily. "You two are so cuteee!"
"We done, now?"
"No, I wanna get one more with Megs, and then I'm good." The boys give you a look, but you wave them off. "I mean it! Gosh, here Toji. Take our picture."
Toji obliges, grabbing your phone from your hand as you rush over to the tall boy. His expression melts into serenity as you place your hands on his shoulders and lean your head against his arm, smiling widely at the camera as a hint of a smile touches Megumi's lips.
Toji's heart warms at the sight, watching the way his son grows comfortable in your presence. The picture of the two of you looks so natural t to him like you are meant to be a part of his family, which he knows you are.
He snaps the photo and nods. "Got it."
You exhale, turning to face Megumi. You brush your hands over his shoulders to straighten his jacket, ridding it of any lint and wrinkles. "Okay, Megumi, please remember to be safe."
"I know. I will," he nods.
"And don't be too reckless when it comes to training."
"I won't."
"And try to make friends. I know how easy it is for you to push others away."
"I'll try."
You press your lips together with a final sigh, looking over Megumi's face warmly. You wrap your arms safely around him into a hug, your emotions getting the best of you. You have spent the past year caring for Megumi like your own, and watching him head off to achieve his goals makes your heart swell with joy and fear all the same.
"Text me or your father or Tsumiki if you need anything. Anything at all," you tell him. He returns your hug gently.
"Okay," he chuckles lightly and you pull away. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."
"...I know you will..." you pout. "Okay, I'll let you go. Good luck. I hope you have an amazing first day. I'll see you at the end of the week, yeah?"
"Mhm. I'll call you to let you know how the day went later."
"Please do."
Toji hands you back your phone and walks toward the door with Megumi. "Let's get a move on," he says. He leans over quickly to peck your lips farewell. "I'll be back in a few."
"Don't speed, Toji."
"Speeding gets you places quicker," he winks and you suck your teeth disapprovingly. Megumi opens the door, his dad gripping the frame.
"Bye, boys. Stay out of trouble," you wave, eyes glassy as you watch Megumi walk out.
"See ya, doll."
"Bye, mum."
The three of you freeze the second the words hit the air, everyone stilling in their tracks.
You feel your heart burst as overwhelming happiness consumes you. Megumi keeps his face forward, hiding his reddening cheeks as he processes what he has just said. Toji stares at the back of his son's head, eyes wide, before he turns to look at you to find your shocked, giddy face.
You don't have any time to reply when Megumi clears his throat suddenly, sweat dotting his forehead, and he walks rigidly out of the house and swiftly down the hall without looking back.
Toji stays behind, keeping an eye on you when you look up at him, stunned. "Did he just...?" you murmur.
"Yep."
Your eyes immediately well with tears and your lips wobble, your hands flying over your mouth. "He sees me as his mom?" you whisper.
Toji chuckles, ducking down to you with his hand still gripping the door. "Of course he does. He's always adored you. Him and Tsumiki."
"I'm gonna cry."
The assassin chuckles softly, pressing his thumb to the corner of your eye gently. "You're already cryin.'"
"Shut up," you sniff. "God, I love those kids so much. I just wanna give him all the hugs in the world."
"And you'll be able to. There isn't a better woman on this planet to be there for the kids," he kisses your cheek. "That's why I plan t'marry you someday."
"Fuck you, Toj. You're gonna make me cry even more."
"Sorry, baby. Can't help talkin' about it," he leans back to the doorway. "Let me get the kid squared away and make sure he's not dyin' of embarrassment, then I'll be back to talk to ya about makin' this official."
"You're being for real?"
"Of course I am."
You lower your hands and beam. "Tell Megumi I love him and get back here soon."
"I will," he hums. "But I thought you said no speeding?"
"Just- make sure the two of you at least get to the school in one peace."
He smirks. "Will do, doll."
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lemonlover1110 · 3 months ago
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𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬
Toji Fushiguro
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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader
Summary: Toji won't tell you he loves you, even when it's so painfully obvious.
Warnings: MDNI, Fluff, Smut, Nipple Play, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Slight Angst
*The prologue is here🥹
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
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Toji has never felt more alive before. Toji’s known love before, but not like this. It isn’t sweet or comforting… Thrilling, yeah, he’d say it’s thrilling. He feels like a dumb teenager again, but he loves the feeling.
You’re sitting next to him in the car, singing along to the song on the radio as he drives you home. He has a hand on the wheel, the other caressing your thigh. It’s a little late, but your night is just getting started.
“Your singing is awful.” Toji tells you as he parks in front of your apartment complex. He turns down the song still, wanting to hear your voice better even when he claims it’s bad– That’s how he knows something is wrong with him. Toji would tell you to shut up if you were anybody else.
He turns off the car when the song is over, and you whine because he’s ruined your fun. You quickly get over it when he opens your car door, offering his hand, which you take to prompt yourself out of the vehicle. Your arm enlaces with his before you begin the short walk back to your place. 
“Your dad told me to make sure you get home safe, so no funny business.” Toji says, and you roll your eyes at him. He’s the one that breaks the rule first each and every time, it’s annoying to hear him say that even when he’s clearly joking.
“Step-dad.” You correct him, though you know it goes in one ear and out the other. He’ll make the same mistake over and over again. “Since when do you listen to him?”
“Since he promoted me.” Toji responds, which earns a chuckle from you. That’s fair enough. He lets go of your arm, choosing to rest his hand on your lower back until you’re finally at your door. 
“Alright, see ya.” You open the door and enter the place without even looking back at Toji. You’re shutting the door, but his hand stops it. His arm wraps around your waist and he brings you back to him.
“That’s not a proper goodbye.” He says, and there’s a smirk on your face. He’s not going to leave so easily, but you aren’t going to let him have his way so quickly. You’re convinced it’s the reason why Toji always comes back at your doorstep, seeking more. 
Since the very beginning, you both agreed that you didn’t want something that required commitment. It started off as something casual, but slowly your relationship has evolved. It’s come to the point where you call him your boyfriend to others– Though, when someone asks about your relationship status, you tell them you’re single. 
“No funny business, Mr. Fushiguro.” You remind him, and you feel his grip tighten. You can’t keep up the act for too long, quickly melting with his touch. He knows the effect he has on you, and you have to put up a fight at the very least to put off the illusion that you’re wrapped around his finger. 
“Since when do you listen to me?” He asks, and you hold your breath. You bite down your lip before slowly turning to look at him.
“You wanted me to take you more seriously this week, and I’m doing what you told me.” You’re fighting back on smiling right at his face. You’re right, you had a minor argument earlier in the week because you ‘treat everything he says as a joke’. He purses his lips together, thinking of his next words. “Do you have an issue with my attitude?”
Instead of answering, he chooses to pick you up from the floor, throwing you over his shoulder before walking inside. He shuts the door behind him and idles in your living room. Should he throw you on the couch or take you straight to the bedroom?
“Put me down, Toji!” You yell, hitting his back with your fist. It causes no pain or discomfort to him, so he’ll ignore you. On the contrary, your fist hurts from making contact with his back. “Toji! Put me down you big buffoon!”
He puts you down, per your request, gently laying you down on the couch. However, he gets on top of you so you really aren’t free. There’s a smirk on his face as he looks down at you, which slowly fades away as he looks into your eyes. His cheeks turn pink as he looks back and forth between your eyes and lips.
He’s in love, he really fucking is. Even at the mere thought of your presence, his heart feels like it's about to beat out of his chest. How can he not love you? You’re so fucking beautiful, and that’s the least impressive thing about you. You’re compassionate, intelligent, hilarious, respectful, responsible– The list goes on. You’re everything that he isn’t. 
“Toji, get off me if you aren’t going to do anything.” You stop the train of thought that goes through his head, and he proceeds to listen to you. You sit up on the couch, while he stands up, making himself welcome at your home and going to your kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.
“You want some tea?” He asks as if you were the guest in your own apartment. You sigh, standing up from the couch and following him to the kitchen. You stay quiet, and he takes that silence as a no to his question.
You sit on the counter, watching every move Toji makes, in complete silence. Toji appreciates your gaze on him… But he can’t help but feel as if something’s wrong. You’re completely quiet, there must be something wrong.
“What’s on your mind?” He speaks up, not being able to bear the silence for too long. Silence between you is usually a good sign, he enjoys your presence as simple as it can be but there’s something up with you tonight. You’re watching him as if you were trying to figure something out. You shake your head, as if you have nothing to say but he knows you do, “I know that pretty little look on your face, you’re thinking of something.”
“I want to introduce you to my family.” You tell him, and he freezes. He furrows his brows before chuckling.
“Your family already knows me.” He answers, though he knows exactly what you mean. He’ll play dumb, that’s what he does best. He hears the water boiling, and he turns his attention to that. He hopes that with his answer, you’ll drop the subject. He doesn’t want to flat out tell you that he wants to keep things a secret.
“Where’s my mug?” He asks, searching the cabinets for the mug that he usually drinks from. That’s how serious things are, he has his own coffee mug at your place. He spots it, behind a nice tea set, one that’s usually hidden away. 
“I want to introduce you as my boyfriend.” You continue your conversation as he prepares his tea. He’s more than capable of talking as he pours boiling water into the mug, but he’s not saying anything. Your words fall on deaf ears. “Toji, I know that you heard me.”
“It’s such a big step.” He responds, and you feel your heart drop. A sheepish smile comes to your lips, and you nod in response. You’re not one to argue much, and you definitely aren’t a woman who will beg. 
If he’s not ready, then he’s not ready. He knows that you won’t wait around for him forever. He lets out a low laugh before saying, “Plus, I wouldn’t want your dad to kill me.”
“That man won’t be the one to kill you if you keep calling him my dad.” You stick your tongue out at him, and he stops what he’s doing to walk over to you. He loves that you’re sitting on the counter, with little room to escape. His hands go on either side of you, a cocky smirk all over his face.
“You killing me? I’d pay to see that.” His face is inching closer to yours, stopping when he’s practically breathing on your face. His nose touches yours, and you feel your body get hot as your heart threatens to beat out of your body. Your hands go behind him, interlacing on the back of his neck. His voice is much lower when he speaks again, “My big girl hurting me, oh I’d kill for that.”
“Since when are you a masochist?” You ask, and you hear him chuckle. When it comes to you, he’s everything under the sun. He’s looking into your eyes, getting lost in your gaze within a matter of seconds. 
He really is in love, it’s fucking sick. 
“Since a pretty little thing threatened to hurt me.” His hands go to your thighs, thumbs tracing lazy circles on your skin. If he continues, he won’t stop until he’s satisfied– Not that you particularly mind either.
“Your tea is going to get cold.” You remind him that there’s something waiting for him. You’re just waiting your breath, knowing that Toji has long forgotten about it. The moment he put the mug down, the tea was wasted.
“Good. I always burn my tongue for being too impatient.” He steals a kiss from you, and when he pulls away, you bring his head back. His lips are overpowered by yours, your tongue making its way into his mouth, pressing against his own. It’s more passionate than the innocent kiss he had stolen from you. It’s hard for you to stop once he gives you a taste. 
“Toji…” You place your forehead on his when you pull away. You look into his lustful eyes, the urge of asking a question that you shouldn’t ask now, overtaking you. But you will, because in order to get what he wants, he’ll say anything you want to hear. “Do you love me, Toji?”
His hands cup your face and he presses his lips against yours. It’s just one kiss. Then two. You lose count, and you’re getting lost in his touch. You’re melting with his every move, and the desire to hear him say he loves you grows. You’re desperate to hear it, even if it isn’t true.
“Toji, answer my question.” You put your hand over his lips, stopping him from kissing you more. It’s to no avail since it takes no effort from him to remove your hand, and resume kissing you. You don’t stop him this time, instead, you allow yourself to indulge.
You accept the silence as a no, which you won’t take to heart. He doesn’t have to tell you that he loves you when he doesn’t. It’s unfair to him when you agreed in the very beginning that this is something casual. You put him on the spot in hopes that he’ll take what you have more seriously, but he isn’t going to because it isn’t what he signed up for… So why does Toji act so loving?
Your legs wrap around his waist as he picks you up before carrying you to your bedroom. He knows exactly where to go, not needing to look away from you for a single second. He continues to kiss you so needily, he’s searching for something that only you can provide. 
“I need you.” He slips in inbetween kisses, which nearly drives you insane. It’s not what you asked to hear, but you’ll take it. He gently lays you down on the bed, once again on top of you and leaving you without an escape route. He kisses you slowly, his lips slowly moving down your body.
Toji’s kisses come to a halt when your clothing gets in the way. He wants to curse at the fabric for covering you up and making his job slightly more difficult. He gets up from the bed and hurriedly takes off every article of clothing that denies him the lovely view of your body. He nearly wants to rip apart every piece but he won’t risk you getting mad at him for it.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Toji says, licking his lips before tracing back all the places he’s kissed, just this time he won’t be interrupted by anything. He’s going to fulfill himself to his heart’s content.
He kisses down to your breasts before focusing his tongue around your nipple. You feel a warm hand travel down your body, and getting caught between your thighs. You inadvertently get shy with him, even when this has become part of your weekly routine. He always manages to get past it, spreading your legs apart and stopping his mouth to tell you, “Now’s not the time to get shy, beautiful.”
His mouth wraps one of your nipples, sucking on it, as two fingers run through your slick folds. You’re already so wet for him, and he’d tease you for it but his mouth is too preoccupied to mutter a single word. Toji’s priority at this moment is making you feel good– As well as enjoying himself.
You’re softly moaning while Toji flicks his tongue, and his fingers rub your clit. He detaches his mouth from your nipple, his lips going up to messily kiss yours before going back to your breasts. His mouth wraps around your other nipple, beginning to suck as two of his fingers apply pressure to your entrance. 
“Toji–” His name rolls off your tongue when he pushes his fingers inside of you. It’s the sweetest melody for his ears, motivation to keep him going. Your voice is all he needs to hear. 
He doesn’t waste a single second in satisfying you, curving his fingers so they hit just the right spot. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, pleasure already consuming you. Your thoughts from earlier are long forgotten while he’s doing what he does best.
Your moaning gets louder as his thumb begins to play with your clit. It’s getting harder for you to contain yourself, since he’s stimulating you in every way possible. He’s moaning on your tit, the vibrations of his tongue nearly sending you over the edge. 
“You’re such a good girl, baby.” He praises you, finally detaching himself from your breasts. His eyes focus on your face and the look of bliss that’s written all over it– And he isn’t even close to being done. 
Toji takes his fingers out before the pressure that builds up in your lower abdomen can release. He’s usually not impatient, but his cock is throbbing in his pants and if he doesn’t deal with it soon, he’ll lose his mind. He almost feels bad for leaving you unsatisfied… Almost. The whine that leaves your lips makes a smirk appear on his face, making him comment, “Aw, you need me so badly?”
“Just hurry up.” You respond in complete annoyance. You’re clenching around nothing, needing him to fill you with pleasure. Just for tonight, he won’t tease you more. He just needs you so much, he can’t waste any more time.
Toji strips down from his clothes, spitting into his palm before taking his cock into his hand. He slowly strokes his cock as his eyes watch you… What position will he take you in tonight? Before he can even decide, your legs wrap around his torso. He’ll watch your face contort with pleasure to serve as another stupid reminder that he’s in love with everything you do. 
Toji’s cock runs through your folds, slowly inserting himself into you. A soft moan escapes his lips as he feels you around him, feeling too good. This is what he’s been waiting for all night; his definition of a proper goodbye from you.
When he bottoms out he gives you a moment to adjust, until you’re moving for him, a little too desperate to wait any longer. Toji’s hands hold on to your hips as he begins to move for you. Toji hates the feeling– He’s in ecstasy the moment he’s inside of you. He’s addicted to you like a drug, how is he supposed to ever move on?
“You feel so fucking good.” He says through gritted teeth, trying to contain himself. Although he sees that it’s not only him that’s struggling in keeping control. You’re arching your back, eyes rolling to the back of your head and lips parted as Toji hits every right spot.
“It’s too much, Toji!” You’re practically yelling, even when he isn’t doing much. He just does everything right even when he’s barely trying. It boosts his ego.
“You can take it, baby.” He answers as his hand goes down to play with your clit, adding even more to your pleasure. You’re completely putty with his touch. You’re absolutely nothing. It’s hard not to be when a simple touch of his makes you euphoric.
“Toji– Fuck!” You moan, and he fucks you with more vigor every time he hears his name. It fuels him. He wishes it was a sound he got to hear each and every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. 
“Keep saying my name, beautiful, it sounds so fucking hot.” He says and you chant his name as many times as he needs to hear it. Your mind is completely clouded, you’ll do his every request with the promise that he’ll satisfy you.
Maybe you should use the situation to your advantage– Hear what you want to hear, but you can’t. Toji’s completely dominated your mind and body.
You get louder as your orgasm nears, slowly taking over you. You’re clenching around him, getting him to moan your name because of the way you feel around him. Your hand is gripping the bed sheets, shutting your eyes as the pleasure of your body consumes you as a whole.
You feel Toji force your hand away from the bedsheet, forcing your fingers to intertwine with his. Your legs spasm as you reach your climax, a loud moan almost drowning out Toji’s words, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
It doesn’t take too long for Toji to follow your lead, too worked up from the mere thought of being with you. Toji fills you up with his cum, not even bothering to make the effort of pulling out. He never does anyway, he’s not going to change tonight.
Toji pulls out, laying down beside you as you both pant to catch your breath. After this he’ll run you a bath and leave after a couple of kisses, it’s his usual routine. A routine he made to not get attached… A routine that’s gotten him nowhere.
You turn your head to look at him while he stares at the ceiling. The answer is no, but the question still weighs heavy on your chest. “Toji…”
“Hmm…?” He looks back at you, and there’s a spark in his eyes that’s unmistakable. You know that actions speak louder than words but you need to hear it.
“You still haven’t answered my question.” You respond, and a slight frown appears on his face.
“Why do you need to know?” He questions, and you feel your heart is about to beat out of your chest. You bite down your lip, wondering if you should drop it. Never ask him again, even if you know you’ll regret it in the near future.
“I–” A sigh leaves your lips. You can’t hide it from him, even if he doesn’t love you or care for you the way you care for him. “My parents want me to get married soon.”
He knows. He knows all about your situation, more than he’d like to know. Toji doesn’t say anything to comfort you, instead, he brings you close to him. He kisses the top of your head, instead of telling you all that he wants to say. He’s not going to tell you all that you want to hear.
“I’m not worth it.” He mutters. He doesn’t want you to ruin your future for him. Toji wants the best for you; after all, he is in love with you.
Even though it's different from the love he's experienced, he's still in love. No amount of arguing with himself will disprove it.
“What do you mean?” You ask him, hope in your eyes that he’ll say something more. You’d do anything to have him say just a little more. But he shakes his head, refusing to elaborate.
“I’ll run you a bath.” Toji changes the topic, standing up from the bed and walking to your bathroom.
He’ll continue the routine, knowing it’s one of the last times that he’ll get to do it.
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monzabee · 3 months ago
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prison for life - mv1
masterlist ||
Summary: The one where if anybody hurts you, Max is going to prison for life.
Pairing: max verstappen x pregnant!reader 
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, mentions of throwing up, cursing, kinda angsty in some places, jos verstappen
Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i’ve been in such a max mood recently that is actually shocking to me, but i just needed some fluffy anything after working on smutty pieces for weeks. i got this idea in my dream and honestly i think it turned out better than i could’ve imagined!! feedback is always appreciated, and my requests are currently open if you want to check that out, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee
Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 
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If you would have to choose a word to describe Max, it would be ‘overprotective’, because that’s what he is. It’s not a bad thing, per say. He isn’t overbearing or controlling at all, but he is simply overprotective. And if you thought he was overprotective when the two of you were dating or when you first got married, you have to admit that you were not, at all, prepared for his protectiveness when you told him that you were pregnant. Apart from his initial meltdown over becoming a dad, or rather becoming like his own father, Max has been pretty chill about the whole thing – with the exception being your safety, of course. The underlying problem isn’t the fact that you’re some sort of daredevil because you’re not, the problem is the fact that Max believes that everything is out to get you. 
The olives you wanted to eat for breakfast? Choking hazard.  
The candles you bought for the living room (to be purely decorative, but still)? Fire hazard.  
The pool lounger Victoria thought would be a cute addition to the pool? Drowning hazard.  
The seatbelt in his car that is surprisingly tight? Could be all three, according to Max, given the right (or wrong) circumstances.  
So, yeah, maybe he wasn’t that scared of becoming a dad, but he was surely scared of you being in danger. That’s why you agreed to stay back for the most races this year – you knew he didn’t need to worry about you or your baby’s safety on top of the stress he had to deal with during the usual racing weekend. That was until you realised how much you would miss your boyfriend after almost a month of not seeing him due to a triple header. And so, you did the thing any person with a common sense would do – flying out to see him without telling him beforehand, because what’s the fun in that?  
The sheer look of shock on his face might be the funniest thing you’ve ever seen when you meet him in his driver’s room, but of course Max doesn’t share the same sentiment as you. Because all he chooses to focus is the fact that you were on a plane – a 0.23% risk out of very 7.7 million flights each year, but still. He spends at least half an hour, just checking you over and assuring himself that you and the baby are fine; at some point he decides that you need to go to the nearest hospital to get an ultrasound just to make sure the baby is okay, but you tell him to fuck off and calm his tits down in the kindest way possible. And that’s how the two of you end up on the small couch in his driver’s room, with his arms around you as you lay between his legs, his hands splayed on the swell of your stomach as he caresses the skin through the fabric of your dress. His voice is low as he tells you about his day, mostly media duties since it is only Thursday, and how he thinks putting a cat tree in the nursery is a bad idea (that was your idea initially, but you can see how having two rumbunctious cats hang out in the nursery could cause problems). 
“I also thought about something else,” he mumbles, suddenly busying himself with the flower pattern of your dress instead of looking at you.  
You raise your brows slightly, motioning him to continue, but let out a huff when he doesn’t do so right away. “Come on,” you whine softly, “tell me what it is Maxie.”  
“I don’t want him to get into karting.” His words are soft, mumbled, and most definitely final. You know how Max can be when he puts his mind into it, and this particular topic has been a discussion in your household ever since the two of you found out that you were having a boy. “I don’t want him to go through what I went through.” 
Letting out a soft exhale, you motion Max to six next to you on the couch. “He won’t,” you assure him, voice soft as you give pleading looks at him, “you’re not your father, Max.” He gives you a look that basically begs for you to not dwell on the topic, but you continue despite the look he gives you, “And what if he wants to get into karting? Are you going to tell him no?” 
Max tries his best to ignore the knowing look you give him, knowing very well that he won’t be able to ever say ‘no’ to his son, who already has him wrapped around his finger. “I might do that, you never know.” He grumbles, hiding his face in your hair – though the soft giggles coming from you manages to put a soft smile on his face. “You’re supposed to agree with me, you know, we have to be a united front.”   
“We’ll discuss it when the baby comes, until then, I’ll be the voice of reason.” You emphasise, poking him at his bicep to convey your point. “You feel better now?” 
“Kinda,” he murmurs, leaving small kisses onto the exposed skin of your shoulder as he keeps on murmuring against your skin, “I would feel better if I knew you stayed in bed all day, relaxing.” 
With that, you choke a loud laugh, and motion him to stand up as you try to do it yourself – though, of course, he has to help with the baby bump being in the way of you doing any sort of physical activity. “You’re funny, let’s go get me ice cream.”  
The only response you get back is a confused look from your husband, his head tilted to the side as he eyes you warily. “What does that have to do with anything?” 
“Um, excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow, “Your son,” pointing to your stomach, you emphasise your words, “is craving ice cream right now.”  
Max’s eyes soften instantly, and a smile creeps across his face. He nods, taking your hand gently as he helps you up. “Well, if my son wants ice cream, then ice cream he shall have.” 
You giggle as you both make your way out of the driver’s room, Max's hand never leaving yours. The paddock is bustling with activity, but for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you, cocooned in your little world. As you approach the nearest concession stand, Max’s protective instincts kick in once again. “Is this ice cream stand safe? How long have they been here? Do they have the proper health certifications?” 
You roll your eyes playfully. “Max, it’s ice cream, not a five-course meal. I’m sure it’s fine.” He sighs but nods, deciding to trust your judgment. After all, you did manage to fly all the way here without incident and somehow alerting him. You both get a generous serving of your favourite flavours, and as you sit down to enjoy your treat, you feel a sense of normalcy and contentment wash over you. 
Max watches you with a tender expression, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and worry. “I know I can be overprotective,” he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face, “but it’s only because I love you so much.” 
You smile, leaning into his touch. “I know, Max. And I love you too. But sometimes, you need to trust that everything will be okay. We’ll figure things out together, just like we always do.” 
He nods, his gaze shifting to your belly. “You’re right. I guess I need to talk to my mom.”  
“Why?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.  
“Well, she promised me she’d look after you but you’re here, so I think we need to have a talk about not keeping secrets from each other.” He mumbles, dragging a hand down his face. 
You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Oh, Maxie, who do you think helped me with my bags at the airport? Your mom is unsurprisingly a strong woman.” 
He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better than to think you’d stay put for a whole month.” He sighs, but there’s a smile playing on his lips. “Alright, but next time, at least let me know you’re planning something. My heart can only take so much.” 
Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice-cream into at least staying put withing the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice cream into at least staying put within the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. He periodically checks in, making sure you're comfortable and well-fed. Each time he sneaks a glance your way, you catch him with a knowing smile and a roll of your eyes, and he returns it with a wink. He knows that there is absolutely no reason for him to be checking on you as much as he does, because you’ll be fine in the cool hospitality suite with enough water to keep you hydrated for years, but he can’t help but worry about anything and everything going wrong. And his worries prove to be true when he sees the one person who he definitely doesn’t want around you.  
“What are you doing here?” He asks the approaching figure, “I thought you were not going to be coming to this race but the next one.”  
“Given the drop in your performance in the last few races I thought I should be here for... support.” His dad supplies, eyes finding you behind his son’s back on one of the couches in the hospitality, “And I can see the reason for why you’ve been distracted lately, what is she doing here?”  
Max scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest protectively, “She’s my wife, she is more than welcome to be here.” 
“She’s also a distraction, Max,” his father points out, “you’re going to lose your focus if you keep–” 
Since Max is faster than his father where it matters the most, he cuts him off before he can say anything further. “Leave, I don’t want you here.” 
Max’s father looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before they narrow into a scowl. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice low and dangerous. 
“You heard me,” Max replies firmly, his stance unwavering. “I don’t want you here if you’re going to criticize my wife and stress me out, or worse, stress her out.” 
“You’re being irrational,” his father argues, taking a step closer. “I’m just trying to help you stay focused.” Seeing that his son is not going to back down anytime soon, he points a threatening finger towards him. “I’ll be back on race day, but you better be ready to put in a winning performance,” his father finishes, his voice laced with finality. He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving a tense silence in his wake. 
Max sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair as he watches his father disappear into the crowd. Looking back at you over his shoulder, talking to some interns from the social media team, he can’t help but feel the dread of you having to face his father – which gives him another reason to somehow stop the two of you from running into each other during the weekend.  
On Friday, Max’s luck decides to do him a favour as you tell him that you’re not feeling well enough to go to the track with him for the qualifying, and though it is true that he wants you to be with him, he also realises that this will give him one less thing to worry about. He knows how stressful it can be for you to navigate the bustling paddock and deal with the crowds, especially with the added pressure of possibly encountering his father. 
“You rest up, okay?” he says, his voice full of concern. “I'll be back as soon as I can. If you need anything, just call me.” 
You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I will, Max. Good luck today. We'll be cheering you on from here.” 
Max leans down to kiss your forehead gently as he mumbles into your skin, “I love you.”  
“I love you too,” you reply, your voice soft and comforting, “be careful out there, okay?” 
Max has one goal throughout qualifying, and to his team principal’s dismay, it is not being on pole. His one and only goal is to get the session done with as quickly as possible and get back to you as soon as he can. After the session ends, he barely waits for the car to come to a stop before jumping out and heading straight for the hospitality suite. His team notices his urgency but knows better than to question it once he tells them he’ll pay whatever fine the FIA will give him for missing his interviews. 
Bursting through the door, Max finds you resting comfortably on the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The sight of you immediately calms his racing heart. “Hey,” he says softly, walking over to sit beside you. “How are you feeling?” 
You smile up at him, still in his team gear and the hat he almost never takes off, the warmth in your eyes easing his worries. “Better, now that you're here. How did it go?” 
“Starting on pole,” he replies, mostly in a mumble, taking your hand in his. “But all I could think about was getting back to both of you.” 
You squeeze his hand, your expression tender. “I'm proud of you, Max. You did great.” 
He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thanks. Let's just relax for the rest of the day, hm? I want to hold you to make sure you’re not getting out of this bed until tomorrow.” 
“You know, I would be happier about this proposal if it was until different circumstances,” you sigh, earning a laugh from him as he pulls you towards his chest, being careful not to spill your tea, of course. Why? Because it is a safety hazard, of course. 
As you settle back into the bed together, Max feels a sense of relief wash over him. The stress of the day melts away in your presence, and he realizes how much he needs these quiet moments with you to forget all about the outside world and focus his energy on what actually matters instead. 
The next day, feeling much better, you prepare to join Max at the track for the race. He’s still concerned but reassured by your determination to support him. As you arrive at the paddock together, Max is more attentive than ever, keeping an eye out for his father in hopes of trying to prevent the two of you running into each other. Navigating through the bustling paddock, Max keeps a protective arm around your waist, and a hand on your bump whenever the two of you stand somewhere talking to someone, guiding you through the throngs of people. His eyes constantly scan the crowd, his jaw set in a determined line. The other drivers and team members greet you warmly, and you return their smiles, feeling the anticipation that surrounds you. 
“Max, relax a bit,” you whisper, squeezing his hand as you notice the tension in his posture. 
He glances down at you, his expression softening slightly. “I just want to make sure everything’s okay.” 
“I know,” you reply, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “but we’re here to enjoy the race and support you. Try to focus on that.” 
He nods, taking a deep breath as both of you make your way to the Red Bull hospitality area. The team welcomes you with open arms, and you settle into a comfortable spot where you can watch the preparations for the race. He asks one of the interns to keep an eye on you, which he thought he was being sly whilst doing it, but you of course catch him in the corner of your eye. That’s when you realise the man walking towards him, your eyes meeting in nothing short of disdain for each other.  
You stiffen slightly, your hand tightening around Max’s hand as he turns just in time to see his father approaching, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he lets go of your hand and decides to wrap his arm around you protectively instead. 
“Max,” Jos says, his tone neutral but carrying an underlying condescension. “We need to talk before your race begins, walk with me.” 
Max's grip tightens around you for a moment before he reluctantly loosens his hold. “What is it, Dad?” he asks, his voice steady but tinged with irritation. 
Jos's eyes flicker to you before focusing back on Max. “I wanted to discuss strategy, but I can see this isn't a good time.” 
Max's jaw clenches, his protective instincts on high alert. “If it's important, we can talk here. I’m not leaving her side.”  
Jos sighs, clearly frustrated. “Fine, if that's how you want it.” 
Max’s arm remains firmly around you as his father steps closer. “Make it quick,” Max insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. If other people were to see your eyes moving from one Verstappen to the other, they’d probably think you are watching a tennis match, though the situation in front of you is certainly more tense than that. 
Jos glances at you once more before addressing Max. “I just wanted to remind you to stay focused. Pole position is a great start, but you need to keep your head in the race.” 
Max's eyes narrow, and he lets out a scoff, “I know how to do my job, no need for reminder. Anything else?” 
Jos shakes his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and resignation. “Just don’t let distractions cost you the win.” 
“What is that supposed to mean?” Max hisses, taking a step towards his father as he gently pushes you behind himself. You have to put a hand against his chest to slow him down, though that doesn’t prove to be a sufficient prevention method. “I already told you; she is my wife, and he is not going anywhere so you better get that into that damaged brain of yours.” 
“Max,” you try to plead with him, “please, not before your race.”  
He gives you a look over his shoulder for a short moment before turning back towards his father. His jaw is set as he looks at the man in front of him. “I’ll only tell you this one more time. When she’s here with me, you don’t show up. If you do show up, you don’t come near her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t even look at her.” Another step taken towards his father has you tightening your hold on him, but he still manages to convey his message. “Try something like this again, and you won’t be in my life anymore let alone my son’s.” 
Jos's lips press into a thin line, his eyes darting to you briefly before settling back on Max. “Fine,” he repeats, his tone colder. “Just remember what’s at stake every time you get behind the wheel.” 
Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.” 
Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.”
It’s not the first time Max has stood up to his father, not by any means. But you can tell that this time affects him in a different way. The weight of the words exchanged and the implications for their future relationship linger in the air. You can feel the tension radiating from Max as he watches his father walk away, and it takes a moment for him to relax his posture and turn back to you. “Please tell me something that will calm me down so I don’t somehow do something that would put me to jail.”
“Okay,” you singsong, quickly positioning yourself in front of him so that you can fix him with a strict look on your face. “You are not doing something that will put you into prison, period.”
“I’m going to need a very good reason because all I want to do right now is follow him to his car and punch him.” Unfortunately for you, the way his jaw is set is a telling sign that, no, Max would actually do something like this given the circumstances.
“There is no sim racing in prison.” You try to provide, giving him a weak smile.  
Max's lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile at your words, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. “No sim racing in prison, huh? Do you honestly think that would keep me from doing something stupid?” 
“I panicked!” You exclaim, hitting him on his chest lightly as he laughs at you silently. “How are you supposed to help me raise our son,” you point to your stomach to emphasise your point, “if you’re in prison, huh?”
Max's smile grows wider, the tension in his posture finally starting to melt away. “Okay, okay, you’ve got a point,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes. “I need to be here for both of you. But it’s so damn hard to ignore him.” 
You reach up and cup his face in your hands, your eyes soft and filled with understanding. “I know, but you’re stronger than him. And you have more important things to focus on. Like winning this race and getting me more ice cream on our way back to the hotel.” 
He takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re right. I can’t let him get to me. Not today.” 
“Exactly,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, “I usually am.” 
Max laughs, the sound lightening the mood even more. “Yes, you usually are,” he agrees, pulling you closer for a brief kiss. “Thank you for always knowing how to calm me down.” 
“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now, go out there and show everyone what you can do. We’ll celebrate with ice cream afterward.” 
“Deal,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with affection and determination. With one last squeeze, he lets you go and turns towards his team, his focus now fully on the race ahead. “But I feel like I need to let you know that I would definitely go to prison for life for you.” 
You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t you have a race to win, Verstappen?” 
He grins, giving you one last kiss before heading off to prepare for the race, giving you a grin over his shoulder as he starts to move away, “So, I’ll get the rest of that kiss after the race, then?” 
“Yeah, Max,” you let out a breathy laugh, your eyes not leaving his for a moment, “after the race!” 
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evie-sturns · 8 months ago
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ʙᴇᴅᴛɪᴍᴇ - ᴄʜʀɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ
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summary: chris and you have twins together, lola and maggie, bedtime is always a struggle with them.
contains: fluff, kissing, swearing.
------------------------..••°°°°••..--------------------—-
11:37pm
chris and i have been dating since highschool, 4 years ago i gave birth to twins
"girls! bedtime please, i didn't realise the time." i call out, opening the door to their shared bedroom.
maggie and lola are bouncing on their double bed while squealing, i walk over to them, my hands resting on my waist. "are you meant to be doing this?"
they both pause to look over at me, innocence spread across their face.
"no.." maggie says quietly, i nod with a small smile
"are you ready for bed?" i ask as the girls flop down on the bed, "yes!" lola says throwing her arms up with a cute grin.
i pull up the covers over them, "stay in bed for the whole night okay? daddy will be in the kitchen until late, so bother him alright?" i say, pressing kisses to their foreheads.
walking out of their room, i flick off the lights behind me. i close their door softly and go out into the kitchen.
chris is sitting on a dining table chair, his phone in one hand and a pepsi can in the other.
"they asleep?" chris asks, putting his phone down "thankfully." i reply with a sigh, sitting down on chris's lap with a heavy sigh.
he plants a long kiss into my hair "i love you so much."
i flip myself around to straddle chris, moving my hair to one side i collide our lips together desperatly. "fuck.." chris breathes into the kiss.
bang.
a loud bang comes from the kids room, i instantly pull away from the kiss, my eyebrows scrunching i throw myself off of chris's lap.
i hear excitable laughing coming from outside their door. i swing open their door, the bedside table is tipped over, maggie and lola are giggling while throwing stuffed animals at each other.
"lola and maggie." i yell sternly, their heads instantly snap round to look at me, their face dropping.
"do you know what time is it? almost midnight." i glare at them
"i am going to put you to bed and if i hear another noise come from this room, dad is going to come in here and be very angry." im cut off by lola
"mommy but- but maggie keeps taking the blanket and my stuffie." she whines.
i shake my head and shut the door for the second time tonight.
"chris-" i say walking into the kitchen "shh i know." he says, grabbing my waist and picking me up. i groan into his shoulder as he walks us into the living room.
"lets watch a movie okay?" chris says calmly, the warm sleves of his crewnecks wrapped around me.
he plonks us down on the couch, i lay on his body comfortably.
-
1:34am
"this is the best part shush!!" i giggle.
"mooom!" i hear lola laugh as she runs into the room, clutching the ear of her bunny toy in one hand.
i look over at chris, whose rubbing his eyes with his ringed hands.
"maggie wet the bed." she points to her bedroom with a snort, covering her smile with her stuffed animal.
chris sits up, moving me off him and walking over to lola. he scoops her up with one arm, looking into her eyes he starts "did you hear what mom said?" he asks, maintaining eye contact with lola.
"well mommy's stupid!" lola says sassily, my jaw goes slack.
"lola no." chris says, more stern than ive ever heard him. he carries lola out of the room.
i lay back on the couch, closing my eyes and instantly drifting to sleep.
9:39am (the next day)
the harsh sunlight hits my body from the window to my left. i sit up, dazed and somehow in pyjamas, even though i fell asleep in jeans and a tanktop.
"what the fuck.." i groan, my eyes adjusting to the blinding light.
chris walkss into the living room "hey!! you're awake." he says happily.
"oh yeah hope you dont mind, i changed you last night after i changed the girls sheets, you were knoocked outt though." he says with a laugh.
"oh shit wait-" he says, doing a full 180° out of the living room.
he comes back in about a minute, hes holding lola and maggie, one in each hand. theyve both got small cards in their hands and a guilty expression on their face.
"chris what is this?" i ask, standing up off the couch.
"mommy i'm very sorry for being awake late last night." lola says, chris sets her down on two feet and she trots up to me, handing me the card.
the cards are in chris's hand writing, but has a drawing made by lola on the front.
"she told me what to write." chris clarifies setting down maggie aswell.
maggie runs up to me, "and im sorry for wetting the bed but dad says it wasn't my fault and you were just tired and grumpy and it was okay -.."
shes cut off by chris's hand over her mouth "shh shush".
"christopher!" i laugh, slapping his arm with a scoff.
—-----------------------..••°°°°••..-------------------—-
got a good feeling bout this one team!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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theragethatisdesire · 1 year ago
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aot men as dads - headcanon!! some 18+!!
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includes: eren, jean, reiner, & levi
i'm still working on some full-fledged one-shots and parts of my series', but i'm nannying for the summer and have BABY FEVER. please enjoy my little headcanons of my fav aot men as dads <3
DISCLAIMER: some of this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.
Eren
ok but eren is such a cringe dad lol
buys himself all of the #1 Dad! merch. he’s got mugs, tshirts, hats, all of it, and all of it went on his credit card.
10000% a girl dad. loves all the little dresses and bows; he puts your daughter’s hair in its first bun, nearly tears up when she points at his matching hairstyle and babbles “like da-da!”
you have to parent eren as much as the children. when you turn the corner into the living room where he’s supposed to be having “quiet time” with your toddler only to find that they’re buried in a pillow fort and eren’s signed his own name in crayon on the wall next to your daughter’s scribblings. “babe, we can just repaint it! she’s being creative.”
loves when you’re pregnant. after your first, eren keeps a calendar on the wall marking off the days until it’s safe for him to fuck you again, fuck a baby right back into you. already has a breeding kink before your first. develops a lactation kink after.
TERRIFIED (and i mean terrified) of hurting your little angel. has absolutely zero concept of “cry it out”; if he hears his baby crying, he’s sprinting into the next room, kissing a nonexistent boo-boo.
refuses to admit it but he has no backbone when it comes to your daughter wanting literally anything. she wants it, she gets it.
favorite thing in the world is matching outfits. favorite. “babe, where’s her green hoodie? i’m wearing mine today for the park!” “of course it matters, we have to match! on that note, where’s yours?”
lets your daughter use his hair to learn how to braid. usually has a few pink hair ties or glittery clips sticking out of it when you come home from a mom’s night out.
really big on your baby getting to see the world. drags you on vacation to any place he can think of, even as you try to explain to him that she can’t form any long term memories yet. “but baby, she’ll have pictures. how many kids in her class can bring a picture of them at the eiffel tower to their first show-and-tell?”
accidentally ruins santa and the tooth fairy for your daughter. cries harder than she does over it.
aggressively vets babysitters. ends up settling for a nursing student in the labor & delivery school who’s the oldest of seven children and probably more knowledgeable about child development than both of you combined, but he’s still suspicious.
wants to watch while you push, watch his baby come into the world. you’ve never seen a sweeter sight than eren in his scrubs, crying while holding your baby girl.
Jean
most people picture eren as being the roughhousing dad, but it’s jean, and i will die on this hill.
freaks out every time he drops your first boy while throwing him around like a ragdoll, but he’ll never stop because “listen!! he’s laughing!”. when it comes to the rest of them, he’s experienced enough now to tell the difference between a real booboo and an imagined one, and he simply brushes their little pants off caringly before shouting “now you tackle me!”
jean’s got no gender preference for your first, or the rest of your little brood for that matter. he raises them exactly the same, regardless: tough.
it takes him awhile to get used to the concept of babies’ minds. you’ve walked in on him having full-blown arguments with your shrieking toddlers several times. “what’s not making sense? if you let your goldfish ‘swim’ in the toilet, it dies, simple as that.”
plays “bad cop” for you because you’re terrible at it, but he’s always having to turn around and snicker into his elbow in the middle of scolding because your babies get the same little throbbing forehead vein as you when they’re mad
wants a big family, and gets it. you practically have to drag him to get his balls snipped after your fourth, him reminding you that “it’s reversible!” the entire way there.
the newborn phase is his favorite. he’s rarely home for any longer than ten minutes without scooping your most recent addition into his arms, squishing their little cheeks and marveling at their gurgling noises.
the kids never give him anxiety, but when you’re pregnant??? jean’s a wreck.
“do your feet still hurt, love?” “what do you mean you have indigestion? that could be the baby coming!” “of course we can’t have sex, what if we poke its little head?”
definitely the dad that’s got a delivery bag and a backup bag and an emergency third backup of the backup bag in his car at all times. the first week of your third trimester, he starts watching you suspiciously for any signs of labor, even though this is your fourth together. you think you’ve got it down by now, you tell him, but he won’t listen.
always gets the kids to work together on little surprises for you. every mother’s day they wake you up with breakfast, every valentines day your dining room table is covered in handmade cards, every birthday your kitchen is coated in flour from jean and four little ones attempting to bake
SO HARD to drag him out for a date night. he wants to bring them everywhere: the fancy restaurant, the couples' get away trip
jean's that dad standing in the bar, watching the game, beer in hand, with an occupied baby carrier strapped to his chest
wants to watch during delivery, but he passed out the first go-round, so now he’s content standing up by your head, trying not to turn white as you squeeze his hand hard enough to break.
talks you into just one more on your fourth’s second birthday. “they’re all so big now. don’t you miss it, babe? my baby in your belly? c’mon…” turns out he reversed that vasectomy without telling you
Reiner
another girl dad. hardcore girl dad.
buys his little princess all number of dresses and barbies, is confused when she’s more interested in the baseballs her classmates have.
accidentally raises the most tomboyish, toughest little girl. still babies her, and she hates it.
cries more than you do on your first date night out when you leave her with your mom. forgets to order his entree at the restaurant because he’s watching the baby monitor app on his phone.
definitely the best at splitting baby duties with you. reiner’s up before you most nights when she wakes, grabbing a bottle and cooing at her lovingly even as she screams. you always try to stay awake to watch him on the baby monitor, though, heart melting as his massive arms rock the tiny bundle back to sleep.
all the neighborhood kids love him because of his size. at every cookout, reiner can’t help on the grill because he’s buried in the grass in a little army of toddlers, led by your daughter, shrieking with joy.
always taking pictures. literally always. unflattering ones when you fall asleep breastfeeding, candids at the zoo, eighteen identical pictures of the lock of hair from her first haircut clogging up his camera roll.
can’t be the bad cop. literally ever. he just can’t say no to his little princess, can’t break her precious little heart by telling her that throwing her food onto the floor is bad.
takes your daughter to mommy & me classes with him
DILF DILF DILF. all the moms in the classes swoon over him and gossip about him when he’s not there; much to your annoyance, reiner never notices, insisting that they’re his “mommy friends”.
always sporting a little bit of glitter on his face or a sticker on his back from your daughter
coming from a fatherless background, reiner nearly kills himself trying to be a constant presence in your daughter’s life (you have to remind him that he has to rest too)
never misses an open house night at school, even if it nearly gets him fired. coaches all of her sports teams. literally almost cries when she makes her first soccer goal. actually does cry when she tells you the boy sitting beside her in class called her his girlfriend. full-blown breakdown on her first day of school, so bad he has to stay home from work.
the absolute BEST through your pregnancy and delivery. always cooking your craving of the week, constant foot and back rubs, stays up all night with you for the three days before the birth when you’re just too swollen and miserable to sleep.
holds your hand through the entire delivery, gets in the doctors’ way when they’re performing checkups because “i’m her father, i need to know what’s going on”
Levi
levi never pictured himself as having children, but when your little surprise arrives, blinking up at levi with his own grey, owlish eyes, levi can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.
very easily irritated with anyone asking questions about your home life.
when his coworkers ask for your newborn’s name, levi simply says “child.” are you two trying again? “why the fuck do you need to know?”
super overprotective. your baby waves at someone in the supermarket, and levi’s leaning down to explain (in words your eight-month-old can’t yet understand) stranger danger.
totally one of those parents that goes half-crazy trying to get their child into the top-notch, snobby preschool in town.
“we’re not wasting his intelligence on the public school”
levi grew up with basically nothing, so he goes all out buying the best baby products on the market. $2,500 strollers, researching “best baby toys for development”, the whole nine yards.
100% spends months trying to get your child to make a game out of picking up his own toys after playtime, but it never works.
has a meal plan for your child to “optimize nutrition” that you have to sneak around to give your baby little chocolates and junk snacks.
“why are there pringles in his playtime bag? they have no nutritional value.”
vets anyone that comes around your child, even other children. “no more playtime with that evan kid. he’s always got a cold or something.”
he’s always been a light sleeper, but once you have your child, levi snores beside them watching kids’ cartoons on the tv like you’ve never seen him, even drooling as his head lolls, arm tucked tight around your little one.
learned everything he could about labor and delivery beforehand
you almost killed him in the delivery room as he explained each medical detail of your labor symptoms to “reassure” you. he finally got the hint when you threatened to decapitate him.
he thinks it’s shameful, but watching you be a mother turns. him. on. 
wants to take you right there when he catches you breastfeeding, watches you read a bedtime story, spin your child around laughing. you’re just so naturally good at it and it makes him love you all the more, all that love going straight between his legs.
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princessbrunette · 5 months ago
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at some point bounty hunter Rafe would let you go cause he feels bad but then two hours later you’re showing up back at the hotel room because you want to suck dick 🤦‍♀️ this would me at least
🐄⋆୨୧⋆⋆˚🎀˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡🎲
he’d screwed up. with his dad, with the money he had, with you — he’d just screwed it all up.
he was midway through a breakdown, having left you alone in the motel room to angrily walk about with his hat low, huffing and puffing out his nose. you jumped when he returned, the door vibrating the walls with the way he slammed it. you thought he might’ve turned the anger round onto you, perhaps deciding that today was the day he would finally lay his hands on you properly. instead, you’re faced with the unexpected. he marches over to you curled by the radiator, squats down and seethes:
“get out.”
you blink, tired from the long day so it took you a second to process things.
“wh—get… out?—”
“get out, alright — don’t make me repeat myself.” with that, he stands back to his full height, gripping your arms as he does and lurching you to stand too, your dress riding up slightly with the movement. your legs nearly don’t support you as he places you back on your feet and you stand infront of him like a lost puppy, blinking rapidly to try and make sense of things. it’s then he’s zipping around, throwing the small amount of your things strewn around the motel room into a little packing case, barely fastening it as he shoves it to your chest, making you stumble. “alright? before i change my god damn mind. get out, go — you wanted freedom? here’s your freedom. out.” he drags you to the door and throws you out like you meant nothing, like you hadn’t been travelling by his side for months now.
you turn around, still unable to speak, clutching your brown leather packing case to your chest with one of your shoes still hanging off your foot a little. you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d done something to upset him so greatly. really you should be happy — rafe stole you from your land, this is what you wanted right?
digging hurriedly through his back pocket, rafe produces a fistful of notes and grabs your hand, forcing your fingers open to press the money into your clammy palm.
“shit, s’all i got okay? should be enough to get you far from here. i’m done.” he gestures you to run along before disappearing back into the motel and shutting the door. it was all just so… sudden.
truthfully, he felt bad. you didn’t deserve this life. he knew that from the start but now he really understood it. he’d fallen out with his father, who’d lost all interest in having you taken anyway — so it seems rafe’s efforts went under-appreciated. he was getting paid like he should be, because he’d been spending all his money on playing house with you. you had to go, for all reasons above you just… had to.
you silently waddle through the dusty streets, blinking into thin air as your brain wracks all the reasons he could’ve rid of you so abruptly. heading into a diner, you perch awkwardly in a booth for a few hours, sipping at milkshakes and eating fries as you ponder a map that you’d snatched from what had been left at a vacant table. the nearest motel was a fifteen minute walk, you could stay there until you get your bearings.
you don’t make it to the motel, infact — you sit in the diner until it’s dark, the only visitors being the odd lone traveller, making no effort to engage with the world around them, bandanas covering faces and dust kicking inside from their boots. you didn’t feel particularly safe anymore, and in that moment you realised that you hadn’t felt unsafe in a while. infact, you felt the most safe pinned to rafe’s side when he’d drag you about location to location— he made sure not a hair on your head was ever harmed unless from his own roughing up.
lip quivering, you feel conflicted. rafe took you from everything you ever knew, and up until this point you’d lived a comfortable life. but you’d grown attached to him in ways you couldn’t explain. seemingly— you had a choice to make, because you could start to make your way back to where rafe took you from. or…
three knocks sound at rafe’s door, and for some reason — despite there being no one else it could’ve been — he was surprised to see you. you looked dishevelled, lost, tired — still clutching the packing case to your chest as if you’d never moved from the spot he’d left you.
“fuck are you doing back here, huh? didn’t i tell you to leave?” he’d lost that aggression from earlier, now just tired — bordering on exasperated, sad.
you can’t find the words, so you throw your case inside the room and wrap your arms around him, rubbing your cheek into his warmth. he stares down at you, arms by his side.
“i don’t want to go.” you whisper, and with the motel door still wide open, blowing in sandy draft — you sink to your knees, big watery eyes staring up at him. “i wont go.” you reiterate, pressing kisses to his crotch, the one way you knew how to ‘apologise’ because that’s what he taught you.
“kid…”
you didn’t know what you were apologising for, you were just making up for whatever the hell it was that made him throw you out in the first place. you had nowhere to be. nowhere to go. you just wanted to be here, with rafe, making him happy enough to keep you as his like before.
he leans over to shut the door, scoffing in disbelief as you clumsily work at his thick leather belt. you mutter something desperate and slurred but he doesn’t understand you.
“shit i uh… guess it’s true what they say about caged birds. you keep one caged up long enough and it’ll never wanna fly again.”
🐄⋆୨୧⋆⋆˚🎀˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡🎲
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punkshort · 2 months ago
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In Another Life | Part II
Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader (time travel au)
Chapter Summary: Danny unexpectedly drops Marcus off at your office, but it works to your advantage when you decide to use him as the subject for your next article, and your research brings the two of you much closer together.
Chapter Warnings: language, typical brother embarrassing his sister, threats of physical violence, a little fist fight, some blood from said fist fight, mention of drugs, jealousy, food consumption, fluff, flirting, sexual tension, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, fingering
WC: 8.4K
Series Masterlist
Your apartment had devolved into utter chaos the last two days. It seemed like every time you rounded a corner, you had to dodge some person or scrap of metal or power tool, and it was getting on your last nerve. New York wasn't exactly known for spacious living arrangements as it was, so to have what little space you did covet overrun with your brother's shit really sent you into overdrive.
"Lizard's mom has a house in Queens, why the hell is all this shit here and not in her basement?" you snapped at Danny early one morning after you stubbed your toe on a drill.
"He's worried about her finding out what we're up to," Danny explained, and you immediately scoffed into your coffee.
"She's deaf in one ear and hasn't stepped foot in her basement since his dad died."
Danny agreed to move his time traveling project to Queens later that day.
The scowl on your face smoothed out the moment Marcus entered your kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes and looking absolutely devastating in the pajama pants you had bought for him just a few days prior. It took all your willpower not to let your eyes drop below his waist, having already made that mistake the day before. The noticeable bulge hidden amongst the thin sleepwear had you spacing out the entire train ride to work and you couldn't afford any distractions that day. You had a big meeting at eleven where you had to present the next topic for your column and you were scrambling. The source you had for your long-distance relationship idea fell through last minute, so now you were tasked with brainstorming a spectacular backup plan in the next four hours.
"Morning, General. How did you sleep?" Danny asked as he scooped cereal into his mouth.
"Quite well, thank you," he replied, then his eyes met yours and he smiled. "Good morning, my lady."
You grinned like a school girl, your heart fluttering excitedly in your chest when you stammered, "G-good morning." Danny rolled his eyes but chose wisely to keep his mouth shut.
Marcus was able to find his way around by that point, however he still seemed hesitant to just start opening your drawers and cupboards when he needed something. Tired of reminding him to just help himself, you set down your coffee and picked up your loaf of bread from the corner of the counter.
"Same as yesterday?" you asked him as you popped two slices of bread in the toaster, anticipating his answer.
"Please," he said with a grateful nod, then dutifully clasped his hands at his waist.
When Danny watched you crack some eggs into a frying pan along with a few sausage links, his jaw dropped.
"You're making breakfast for him but not for me?" he whined.
You swiveled around and pointed your spatula in his face. "He is our guest, thanks to you," you reminded him, and Danny quickly shut up.
"I do not wish to be a burden," Marcus said. He hadn't moved but his broad frame felt like it took up the entire room.
"You're not a burden, Marcus," you told him softly, then gave him a small, reassuring smile.
"Yeah, no worries, man," Danny said, clapping him firmly on the shoulder before dumping his dirty dishes in the sink. "I'm just giving my sister a hard time because it's obvious she wants to jump your bones."
"Danny!" you shrieked while throwing an oven mitt at his head. He dodged it and ducked out of the kitchen, his laughter fading down the hall towards his bedroom.
Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you turned your focus back to the frying pan. When Marcus cleared his throat, you closed your eyes in dread because you knew what was coming.
"What did that mean, jump your bones?"
"Nothing, just ignore him," you said, sliding the eggs and sausage onto a plate. A few seconds passed when Danny's voice shouted down the hall, "It's a euphemism for sex!"
"Goddamnit," you muttered through clenched teeth. You began to storm out of the kitchen, prepared to kick Danny's ass, but Marcus shot an arm out to stop you.
"You look lovely today."
You gazed up at him, mouth agape, while you tried to find your voice.
Say something. Anything.
"Thanks. Uh, thank you," you mumbled, smoothing down the pink and white floral dress you picked out. On days where you had your big monthly meeting, you tried to make an effort to look like you belonged at a fashion magazine.
"Do you have plans today?" he asked, his eyes swooping down your frame appreciatively, and for once it didn't make your stomach turn when a man looked at you that way. "Daniel tells me there is a beautiful park in the city. I desire to see it and would very much enjoy your company."
You knew you were reading too much into it, but you couldn't help but feel like he was asking you on a date.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Marcus," you said, "I have to work today. But I promise we will see it before you go home."
Home.
His face fell at the word and he quickly dropped his gaze to the floor, trying to hide his disappointment.
"Of course, I understand. Thank you for breakfast," he said, sliding past you so he could pick up the plate you made for him. You chewed your lip and glanced at the time. If it were any other day, you would just call in sick, but today was too important to miss.
"I promise, okay?" you told him as you gathered your bags. "We will see Central Park before you leave. And whatever else you want."
He nodded and took a bite of his food. Although he appeared to be unbothered, you still felt an enormous amount of guilt.
"Danny!" you called from the front door, "this shit better be gone by the time I get home!"
"Yes, Mom!" he shouted back sarcastically from the bathroom. You rolled your eyes and gave Marcus a quick wave before hurrying out the door.
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You were fucked.
You had one hour until your meeting and you had absolutely nothing.
Already, you had done your usual brainstorming techniques five times over. You scrolled through social media, hoping to find some trend or topic that might be popular and garner attention, but you were coming up dry, so you kept circling back to your long distance relationship idea. You had sent out every feeler you could think of, asking any of your usual contacts if they had anyone you could use for a story about your chosen topic, but so far you weren't having any luck.
Suddenly, your phone rang and you lunged for it, hoping it was a lead, then groaned when you saw Danny's contact picture pop up on the screen.
"Hello?"
"Hey..." he began, and you could tell by the tone in his voice that you should brace yourself.
"What did you do?"
He laughed on the other end. "I didn't do anything. Actually, I did do something - I am getting all this stuff out of your place, but there's just one thing."
"Spit it out," you said, your eyes flickering to the time. 45 minutes to go.
"I can't take Marcus with us to Queens. There's no room in Lizard's car."
"So let him stay in the apartment."
"I'm not leaving him all alone in New York City!" he protested. You heard some familiar sounds in the background of the call and you frowned.
"Where are you?"
Danny paused and you instantly began to put your defenses up.
"I'm... in your lobby. With Marcus and Lizard."
"You're what?!" you exclaimed in a loud whisper, glancing around to make sure nobody overheard you in your cubical.
"I told to him to just stay in the lobby and read your crappy magazines and if anyone asks, to tell them he's here for meeting."
"Danny! You can't do this, I can't babysit a fucking Roman General right now!"
You heard Danny walk a few paces away, presumably to get some privacy so Marcus wouldn't overhear, before he answered.
"He'll stay downstairs, I promise. I told him what floor you're on in case of an emergency but maybe you can pop down and take him for lunch. You've been making heart eyes at this Roman General for the past three days, don't try and lie."
Anger coursed through your veins but you were running out of precious time, so you gave up.
"Fine," you seethed.
"Great!" Danny said cheerily. "But I might not be back til late. We're burning tons of time moving all this stuff, we got work to do."
"So I have to bring him home?"
"Yes, you'll have to bring him home. You're going there anyway, aren't you? What's the big deal?"
"The big deal is he's going to be bored and lonely all day down there!" you snapped.
"He's not going to be bored. He's in New York City. The elevators alone are blowing his mind right now."
Despite yourself, you smiled when you remembered how in awe he was the first time he rode in an elevator.
"Tell him I'll be down to take him to lunch in like, a little over an hour. I have a meeting at eleven."
"You're the best!" Danny said, then before you could respond, the line went dead.
You grumbled obscenities under your breath when you heard a familiar voice say your name from the opening of your cube.
"Hey, ready for the meeting?" Matt asked. You practically dropped your phone from his sudden appearance and he chuckled. "Did I scare you?"
"Yes," you hissed as you began to gather your things, trying to hide your annoyance. You looked over the top of your cubical wall, hoping and praying you would see someone - anyone - else to walk with to the conference room, but you were shit out of luck.
"Doing anything fun tonight?" he inevitably asked, like he always did, and you sighed. You made the mistake of hooking up with him after one particularly rowdy work happy hour and ever since then, Matt's been waiting for his next opportunity. "I know a guy who works at that new French restaurant, I can get us a reservation and then, who knows..."
"I have a friend in from out of town," was all you said. No matter how many times you turned him down, he remained persistent.
"That's cool. Girls night, then?"
"My friend's a guy," you quickly corrected him.
Matt stumbled over his feet as you reached the conference room. It was the biggest one on your floor, directly across from the elevator banks. The entire wall was made of glass, floor to ceiling, so you could see through the room to the opposite wall, where there was a fantastic view of the city.
"Oh, like a cousin, or..."
"Nope," you replied, voice clipped so he knew the topic was closed. With a frustrated huff, Matt plopped down next to you and flipped open his portfolio. You gave him a sideways glance, momentarily feeling bad for him. He was by all accounts a good looking guy. He wrote a column for the men's health section and based on his physique, you assumed he practiced what he preached, but sadly his looks is where his good qualities came to an end.
Charlotte, your editor, breezed into the room, her presence enough to make everyone sitting at the long table quiet right down. She ghosted her palm over her perfectly coiffed grey hair and sat her portfolio down in front of her chair at the head of the table. As you got yourself organized, your mind scrambling to come up with a lie about a long distance relationship source, Charlotte placed her phone down delicately next to her leather portfolio, then slowly uncapped the expensive looking pen someone once told you was gifted to her by Marc Jacobs. Everybody watched and waited until she was ready, which was signified by a dainty clearing of her throat and a quick, sweeping glance over the table followed by a curt nod. At that point, the usual routine began.
Without having to be asked, one by one everybody took their turn presenting their idea for the month. Each person's name was listed on the agenda in the order Charlotte wished, and mercifully yours was dead last.
Your anxiety began to spike when Sara, the girl who was before you in nutrition started to wrap up her brief speech about some gluten free lifestyle benefit bullshit.
Keep it short. Keep it vague, and you'll figure it out later. Everyone wants to leave, it's almost lunch.
Then some movement by the elevators caught your eye. Your breathing ceased and you broke out into a cold sweat when you saw Marcus had stepped out of the elevator and was fucking talking to the receptionist. Then you locked eyes when they both turned to look towards the conference room.
"Shit," you whispered.
Matt nudged your ribs and you startled, glancing around the room to see Sara had sat down and half the table was staring at you, waiting for you to begin. You shakily stood up and swallowed the lump in your throat when Marcus began to weave his way towards you through the maze of cubicles.
Call it a stroke of genius or divine inspiration, but an incredible idea hit you right as you opened your mouth to speak. You had about half a second to decide if you should wing it and trust your gut or talk out of your ass about your first idea.
Fuck it.
"This month, I have a very interesting idea that I'm super excited about exploring," you began, watching when Marcus came to a stop outside the glass door. He looked back and forth, his fingers twitching at his sides. "My topic will be Romance without Technology," you announced with a confident smile. "I'll be researching how adults navigate their love lives without the help of dating apps, social media, or even texting," you said, listing each item on your finger as you spoke.
"Who's that guy?" Sara asked, pointing towards the door. It was at that point you realized most of the table was gawking at the tall, broad, handsome looking Roman General waiting to get your attention.
You smiled and walked toward the door with your arm outstretched.
"This is Marcus," you said, holding the door open and ushering him inside. He murmured your name but you cut him off. "He's the subject I'll be interviewing for this month's article. He doesn't use technology of any kind. In fact, he doesn't even own a cell phone."
The entire room gasped and Marcus looked around, confused, but understood what you needed him to do. He raised one arm up to greet the room and said, "Good morning."
Most of the women began to whisper excitedly to one another, shooting him looks and giggling behind their hands until Charlotte cleared her throat and once again, the room fell into silence.
You chewed your lower lip anxiously as you waited for Charlotte to silently appraise you both. Finally, you saw the corner of her mouth twitch and she gave you a barely perceptible nod.
"I look forward to reading it."
She stood abruptly and collected her things, signifying the end of the meeting, and relief flooded your veins.
"Are you okay?" you asked Marcus, pulling him to the side while the room stood and slowly filtered out. He nodded.
"Yes. There were many vehicles that passed by with bright lights and loud sirens. When I asked what it was for, I was told there was an emergency."
You giggled and shook your head. "So the fearsome General was scared?"
His brows knitted together for a moment before he answered.
"No. I grew concerned for your well being."
Your heart could have melted on the spot.
"Oh," you said softly, and just like that, the annoying little flutter in your chest was back. "I-I'm fine, but thank you. That was... that's really sweet, actually."
He grinned as his eyes swooped down your frame, causing butterflies to awaken in your stomach.
"Did you wanna get something to eat?" you asked as you stared up at him, his large frame making you feel so tiny in comparison. "It'll be on the company's dime since I kinda just signed you up to be the subject of my next article."
He cocked an eyebrow at you and shoved his hands into the pockets of his khakis, the action bringing up the memory of you measuring his inseam and you felt your face begin to heat up. God, you must have looked ridiculous, standing there in front of Marcus in the middle of your office, looking up at him with big doe eyes.
"Of course," he replied, "but what do you intend to write about me?"
You grinned and hurried back to your abandoned chair, scooping up your things before pointing to the door.
"Let me drop this stuff off at my desk and I'll explain everything."
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"My marriage was arranged," he reminded you from across the table draped in white linen. You decided to take him to a nicer steakhouse not too far from your office, one that didn't enforce a dress code but still had good food that you rarely sprung for out of your own pocket.
"I know, but I'm sure you can still give me an idea of what romance was like," you replied. "For example, did you get her any gifts? Give flowers? Take her to places that were meaningful to you? Or to her?"
Marcus dropped his gaze to the table and shrugged. "We knew each other for such a short period of time, there was unfortunately not much in the way of romance."
You clocked the forlorn look in his eye and began to feel guilty for bringing it up. "I'm sorry. I'll just make something up, don't worry about it. No one'll know."
"No, no, I wish to help," he said quickly, his hand stretching across the table to loop two of his fingers around yours. "Just because I do not have many personal stories to share does not mean I cannot help with your research."
"I don't want to reopen any old wounds," you explained, your eyes fixed on the way his hand linked with yours so naturally on the tabletop.
He chuckled softly, his smile causing his deep brown eyes to sparkle and a dimple to appear on his cheek.
"It was a very long time ago."
When your salads arrived at your table, Marcus released your hand to pick up his fork, frowning down at the bowl before asking, "This is the salad named after Julius Caesar?"
You giggled and shook your head, the sound causing him to lift his chin with a warm smile.
"No," you said once you collected yourself, "No, it's named after another Caesar. The guy who created it, I think."
Marcus didn't seem to mind he was wrong or that you found his error so funny. In fact, he enjoyed it.
"You have a beautiful laugh."
Instantly, your cheeks flushed and you shyly looked down to focus on your salad. "Thank you," you said softly.
He watched you silently for another minute more, admiring the way your eyes fluttered shut when you tasted something good or tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, then took a hesitant bite of his salad.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise and you grinned from behind your napkin.
"Delicious."
You giggled again and nodded. "Yes, it is."
Once your salads were taken away and before your main course arrived, you pulled out a notebook and flipped to a blank page.
"Let's start from the beginning. You don't have to go into excruciating detail. Maybe just some things you know of that others did to... court women? Is that even the right word?" you mumbled the last part to yourself as you scribbled something at the top of your paper.
"It was seen as a sign of weakness for a man to become infatuated with a woman," he said, and you looked up at him in surprise.
"Why's that?"
"Marriages rarely were based on affection. They were viewed as a way to improve your social standing, but it was mutually beneficial," he explained, his finger tracing the design engrained in his fork. "Women were taken care of, looked after and tended to while the men were able to claim a high ranking senator or nobleman as their family. And, of course..." he trailed off, his cheeks staining pink when he dropped his gaze to the table and said, "received the traditional benefits of having a wife."
You smirked to yourself as you wrote notes on your pad of paper.
"Thought you were used to talking about sex openly," you teased. He cleared his throat and your pen paused over your paper to meet his eye.
"I admit, at times I feel nervous around you."
"Me?" you balked, but he just nodded and your brain scrambled for something to say that wouldn't entirely embarrass you. You landed on deflection.
"I thought it was a sign of weakness to grow infatuated?"
He grinned and leaned back in his chair. "I never said I agreed with that line of thought."
"No, I suppose you didn't," you said, shyly dropping your eyes to your paper. His gaze was too intense. Every time you looked at him it felt like he could see right through you. "So, tell me. Hypothetically. If we lived in Rome and I caught your eye, what would you do? How would you win me over?"
Marcus took a deep breath, his broad shoulders relaxing as he thought about your question for a moment, staring at your pen hovering over your paper.
"I would write you letters every day," he said softly, forcing your eyes back onto him. His voice was low and deep, smooth yet firm as he spoke. "I would write of your beauty. I would compare the color of your eyes to the flowers and fauna that grew in my garden, delicate and all encompassing. I would tell you how food tastes better on my tongue when you are around, and how I ache for you when you are not near. I would try to explain how difficult it is to breathe without you, and how I would gladly die a thousand deaths just to feel the softness of your lips against mine."
You stared at him, hand frozen where you left it resting on your notebook. He waited patiently until you finally blinked yourself out of your stupor and inhaled a shaky breath.
"Uh, s-so love letters, then," you stammered, shakily scribbling down something incoherent on your paper. Jesus fucking Christ, get it together.
"Yes. Love letters," he repeated. He sounded so cool and collected. How was he so relaxed? A moment ago, he was admitting you made him nervous. Maybe he was just better at hiding it than you.
Your server arrived and placed your food down in front of you, the heavenly scent wafting up and making your mouth water. Placing your pen down in favor of picking up your fork and knife, you asked, "Have you ever had steak?"
"I am not sure. What animal is it?" he asked, picking up his fork and testing the tenderness of his steak by giving it a little poke.
"It's cow. Try it, it's good."
"Cows were used for farming," he said before slicing a piece off and examining it closely. "We could not afford to slaughter them."
You watched as he popped a bite into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully before giving you a smile and nod.
"Good?" you asked, your heart skipping a beat at finding another food he liked.
"Very," he replied once he swallowed. "You are quite perceptive and have good taste."
"Thank you," you answered, taking another bite and trying not to preen too much from the praise.
"So tell me," he said after he finished up his filet and moved on to his potato, which he eyed wearily. "Do you not receive love letters as a form of courtship?"
"Uh, no," you replied with a laugh. "Closest thing to that nowadays would be a text and even those are... sub par."
"So what is it that you do?"
"What do you mean?"
He pointed to your notepad with his fork. "For romance. What activities do you take part in?"
"Oh," you said, wiping your mouth and pushing your empty plate to the side. "You mean dates. Uh, this actually. Get dinner together. Sometimes see a movie," you paused and rethought your word choice when you saw his face. "A show, or a play. Um, sometimes go to a bar. Stuff like that."
He nodded and let your answer roll around in his head for a moment before asking, "So, is this a date?"
Marcus smiled when he saw you become flustered. You thanked the server for clearing your plates and leaving the bill before responding.
"Uh, I don't know," you finally said shyly, making his smile grow even wider. "Do you want - I mean, well... I'm technically working, but, you know, if - if that was something you were interested in, then, I guess w-we could classify this, or, you know, it could be construed-"
"Yes or no," he said, interrupting your insane ramblings with a soft look and an outstretched hand. Your face was hot with embarrassment but you reached out for his hand, anyway.
"Yes."
"Yes," he repeated, squeezing your fingers. You grinned and nodded, your stomach doing cartwheels as you tried to steady your breath.
Once you paid with your corporate credit card, you walked back out to the street, Marcus holding the doors open for you before offering you his hand. You sheepishly accepted it and walked a few paces in the direction of your office before he stopped you.
"Must you return to work?"
You gave him a sad smile and took a step closer. "Yeah, I'm sorry. But maybe I can play hooky tomorrow."
Marcus raised a curious eyebrow at you while playing with the material of your dress with his free hand, gently pinching and feeling the fabric between his fingers. "What does-"
"It means I'll call in sick without actually being sick so I can have the day off," you explained without him needing to finish asking.
He grinned and dropped your dress in favor of cupping your cheek. "I would like that very much."
"Me, too," you said, gazing up at him while leaning into his touch. His strong, calloused hand felt rough against your skin, but you liked it. As if reading your mind, he stroked his thumb over your cheekbone and murmured, "You are so soft."
You hummed, not trusting yourself to speak when you watched him slowly lean down to your level, your eyes fluttering shut as you waited to feel his mouth against yours. But just when his shadow got close enough to block the sun behind your eyelids, you heard someone shout your name.
You swiveled around angrily, your hand still laced together with Marcus's as you looked for the person who interrupted one of the more romantic moments of your life.
And then you saw Matt stalking up to you from the direction of the restaurant.
"Is this why you've been ghosting me?"
You frowned and tilted your head. "What?"
Matt came to a stop in front of you both and jutted his chin towards Marcus. "Too busy sleeping with your profiles to hang out?"
"W-what?" you stammered again, too shocked to fight back with your usual vigor. You felt Marcus stiffen next to you. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he immediately sensed your discomfort. "I'm not - this isn't-"
"Oh, sure," he sneered, crossing his arms, his biceps bulging out of his thin dress shirt. "I saw you two in there. You were three seconds away from crawling into his lap."
Your mouth hung open in shock and humiliation. "Were you following me?"
Before Matt could answer, Marcus took a step forward.
"I am going to have to insist you stop yelling," he seethed, and even though Matt followed his own advice in his articles and worked out plenty, Marcus still towered over him.
Matt's eyes went wide for just a moment before his bravado returned. "C'mon, man. She's just using you, don't you see that?" Matt prodded, then he scoffed. "Unless you're good with it. Then by all means, have fun. She's a good fuck but I don't think she's got much else."
It all happened so fast, you couldn't remember Marcus dropping your hand and cocking his fist. You couldn't remember the first sickening crunch of his knuckles against Matt's nose, but you did remember hearing his pained howl.
Marcus only landed a few more blows before you came to your senses and tugged him by the shoulder. It was laughable to think you would be strong enough to move him, but you must have also said something because Marcus immediately stopped and turned back to you.
"Jesus Christ!" you cried shakily, hands trembling as they hovered in the air. You weren't sure what to do and people were staring as they walked by, driving up your anxiety. Marcus was fine except for his skinned knuckles, but Matt was much worse. He had a busted lip and already a bright blue shiner forming on his cheekbone, and when he stood to face you both, you noticed another cut on the other cheek.
"The fuck is wrong with you!" he spat, blood dripping down his chin.
"Mind how you speak to women and perhaps they will wish to spare you their time," Marcus snarled. Matt turned his attention to you, the pad of his thumb swiping against his lower lip.
"Who is this guy? What the fuck is his deal?"
You took a deep breath, your mind settling and your fortitude returning.
"If you had just backed off when I said no the first dozen times, maybe you didn't have to find out!"
"Oh, come off it. You like the chase. You get off on guys trailing after you-"
"You're the only fucking one, Matt!" you yelled, no longer caring who was looking. "We hooked up once, years ago, and you just can't take the hint! I'm not interested!"
His eyes clouded with disbelief as he propped his hands on his hips and shifted his weight to one foot, standing there as if he were somehow new to being shot down.
"I'm telling Charlotte about this. About your little..." he trailed off and gestured vaguely over your shoulder, "guard dog. I'm sure she will love to hear about one of your profiles assaulting an employee."
You crossed your arms defiantly and made a face. "Oh, yeah? Do that and I'll recommend to HR they give you a drug test."
His face paled for a moment but he tried to hide it. "Drugs? I'm not on drugs."
"Oh, so you're telling me your balls are just naturally that shriveled up and small? Because, shit," you laughed, "if it's not steroids, you might want to see a doctor about that. That's not normal."
Matt swallowed tightly and clamped his mouth shut. You smiled and turned around to Marcus, who had been listening to your entire argument and probably understanding less than half of it.
"Let's go."
You tugged on his arm and he obediently followed, leaving Matt to lick his wounds.
"Your work - the building is the other way."
"I know," you said, raising your arm to hail a cab. "I'll figure something out. We're going home."
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Marcus watched as you paced around your kitchen, phone pressed against your ear as you spoke to your boss and faked a sudden illness that included the word cramps. When you finished up, you looked over at him from across the room.
He looked so normal now. Sure, he spoke a little strangely but without his tunic, clad in khakis and a polo shirt, he looked like he fit right in. Like he always belonged right there.
"I don't think I even thanked you," you said. Marcus smiled and shrugged.
"No need."
He was so damn adorable, it was killing you. "I've never met anyone like you before," you confessed, leaning a hip against the edge of your counter.
"In a good way, I hope?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. You giggled and nodded, the sound making his heart soar.
"Yes, in a good way."
He brought his hand up to smooth over his mouth nervously and your stomach dropped.
"Oh, my god! Your hands!" you exclaimed, crossing the room to snatch one of his massive hands within both of yours.
"It is alright, there is no-"
"Come on, let me clean up your knuckles at least," you said, pulling him towards your tiny bathroom, which somehow felt even smaller when you were both crowding the space. "Sit here," you told him, pointing towards the closed toilet seat, "I have some stuff somewhere," you muttered under your breath as you rifled through the medicine cabinet behind your mirror, then tugged open the drawer in the vanity that always stuck. Marcus did as he was told and watched you with amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Ah ha!" you announced victoriously when you held up a bottle of clear liquid and a box of bandages. He smiled as you washed your hands before meticulously laying everything out you would need. Picking up a cotton ball, you doused it with the liquid and turned to him, having little choice but to stand between his knees and lifting one of his hands to look at it closer.
He splayed his hand out flat, palm pressing against your palm while you carefully dabbed at the dried blood.
"You have laid with that man before?" he asked out of the blue. Your cheeks felt warm when you nodded and avoided his eye.
"A long time ago. It was a mistake."
He didn't say anything else for a few minutes, just watched as you tenderly cared for his broken skin, your proximity and touch overwhelming his senses.
"Did he mistreat you?"
Quickly, you shook your head. "Oh god, no, nothing like that," you told him. "It just... wasn't a good fit."
Marcus couldn't stop staring at the soft slopes of your face and the bright sparkle in your irises, growing infatuated with the way your brow scrunched together in concentration while you worked.
"Did he not worship you?" he asked softly, watching as your breath hitched and you swallowed the lump in your throat.
"Uh, no," you finally said, setting down the cotton ball in favor of a tube with some salve. You squeezed a small dot onto your finger and began to apply it carefully to his knuckles. "Can't say there's been a lot of worshipping happening in my life," you added with a dry chuckle.
"No?"
You shook your head and wiped your finger with a tissue and tried not to let his injured hand that had fallen to your hip distract you.
"No," you whispered, your shaky voice betraying you.
He tsked and brought his other hand up to your hip, slowly splaying his fingers wide and crumpling the fabric of your dress. "Shameful. You deserve to be worshipped."
All of the air rushed from your lungs, your body thrumming with desire. Marcus noticed the fine hairs on your arms raise when goosebumps flashed across your skin and he delicately picked up your hand, flipping it over so he could press a kiss against the inside of your wrist.
His deep brown eyes met yours and with his lips still brushing against your skin, whispered, "Will you allow me to worship you?"
You found yourself nodding before your voice had a chance to catch up with you, then his hands gently cupped your face and pulled you down to his level. The moment your lips finally met, you forgot how to breathe, how to move, how to think. His lips were so unexpectedly soft and tender as they slowly massaged against your own that it sent you into a tailspin.
You pressed your mouth against his with a little more force, the fear that he may just stop at one kiss gripping your throat and driving you forward. He made a soft, surprised noise in the back of his throat when you began to kiss him with more intensity, but he didn't skip a beat. He tightened his hold on your face, fingers dimpling your cheeks and his nose bumping lightly against yours.
Your hands pressed against his chest, then your fingers curled to grip his shirt, wanting to tug him closer, wanting to feel him everywhere but you were still in your stupid fucking tiny bathroom and it was difficult to maneuver. Seemingly anticipating your next move, you felt Marcus stand. Your head tipped back, neck craned upwards at an impossible angle, refusing to break the kiss even for a moment so he began to carefully walk you backwards towards the door. Every step towards your bedroom felt like you were walking deeper and deeper into the sea, drowning in his overwhelming presence and touch.
Marcus's palm slid over your shoulder, down your arm and only stopping when he found your ribs. He wound his arm around you as you both stumbled through your doorway with as little grace as you would expect from two people growing more and more intertwined by the moment.
Once you felt your mattress pressing into the backs of your knees, you released your death grip on his shirt so you could reach behind you and unzip your dress. The cool air washed over your bare skin when it pooled around your feet and suddenly, you felt extremely exposed. What kinds of women was he used to being with? It felt like every day when you went into work you learned something new that men found desirable in women. How could you possibly be expected to keep up in the modern world, let alone with what Marcus might find appealing?
But when his palm reconnected with your middle and he felt your smooth skin under his hand, he grew desperate for more to the point where you could sense it, pushing your insecurities to the back of your mind. His injured hand left your cheek so he could glide both massive hands over the soft swell of your curves, his fingers twitching as he sought out more of your skin but when he came in contact with your bra, his hands stopped.
You could feel his hesitation by the way his lips stalled against yours so you took his hands and wrapped them around your back, wordlessly guiding him to the clasp as your tongue slid inside his mouth.
He figured out the hooks on your bra after only one or two fumbles and it dropped to the floor to join your dress.
"Fuck," he whispered when he finally managed to pull away to admire your nearly naked body. Your eyes widened with surprise.
"I don't think I've heard you curse before."
He inhaled a ragged breath, his eyes still drinking you in when he murmured, "I did not have a reason to before now."
He gently grazed over your breast, barely even touching you while he watched with fascination as your nipple tightened from the brief contact. "You have stirred something within me," he said softly, his eyes and hands continuing to roam. "Something I believed did not exist for a long time."
You leaned into his touch when he cupped your breast, enraptured with how soft you felt under his hand. Your fingers curled around the waistband of his khakis, sliding your nails across his lower stomach, across the coarse hair you very much wished to see while his mouth descended on your throat. His beard tickled the spot below your ear and it sent a shudder down your spine. His lips curved into a smile against your skin at the involuntary movement and he asked, "What else do you like?"
It was becoming difficult to breathe. The way he was so slow and careful yet sure of himself was unlike anything you had ever experienced before with a man. It was making your knees weak and your head swim.
When it took too long for you to answer his question, he lightly pinched your skin between your teeth, causing warmth to bloom just underneath the mark.
"T-touch me," you stammered, your eyes sliding closed and your head tipping back, surrendering yourself completely to his prowess.
His hand slipped down your body, over your stomach and underneath your panties. You gasped sharply when you felt one thick finger part your folds, sliding over your clit and dipping into your entrance, drenching him with your arousal.
"Lay down for me," he whispered in your ear while wrapping his free arm around your back, holding you steady so you didn't collapse from the torture of his singular finger working in and out.
He laid you down carefully in your bed, his hand never losing its rhythm and his mouth still ghosting over your neck and chest.
You whined and bucked your hips under him, fingers getting tangled in his thick curls while he whispered words of adoration into your skin, imprinting himself on you forever.
He could feel you growing rigid, your muscles tense and your exhale coming in short bursts. He brushed his lips over yours at the same time his thumb grazed over your clit, making your jaw drop and a sob erupt from your throat.
"Relax," he murmured, increasing the speed of his wrist while slowly sliding his tongue alongside yours. "Relax and let go for me, cor mea," he said against your mouth.
Your body convulsed beneath him when he brought you to your climax with just one finger. His mouth locked over yours, swallowing down your cries and allowing them to feed his ever growing desire. When you whimpered and lightly pushed his hand away, he withdrew from between your legs but continued to deepen the kiss. It was so sweet and loving that it sent you reeling, wondering how you would ever find satisfaction from another man again after Marcus.
"Take these off," you breathed, tugging on his belt loops. He reared back to sit on his heels while deftly undoing the button and zipper of his khakis, leaving them gaping open at his waist before yanking his polo shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor. You bit your lip, admiring his bare chest for the first time while he pushed his pants down and kicked them off.
"Christ," you muttered, eyes trailing over his tanned and scarred skin. You reached out and traced a particularly jagged one on his shoulder but he was more focused on ridding you of your underwear. If you ever questioned the validity of his time traveling story, any doubt was erased from your mind when you saw his body.
"Did these hurt?"
He paused and followed your gaze to his marked up torso.
"Some, at the time, yes."
Your expression softened to one of pity as you continued to scan his body, losing count of the shiny, pale scars.
"W-what... how did these..." you trailed off, unable to keep the emotion from your voice. Marcus cupped your cheek and pressed a kiss against your lips.
"It is alright. I have been in many battles. It is my job, and just like yours, I must do it."
You laughed but you didn't really find it funny. "You risk your life every day while I write about best places to take a first date or what to do if you're faking orgasms with your boyfriend. You can't compare the two."
Marcus cocked an eyebrow as he hovered above you. "And do you have much experience faking orgasms?"
You felt your face flush. You knew he was just trying to distract you, but it was working. "Some."
He leaned down and kissed the tip of your nose, then each one of your eyelids before asking, "But not a moment ago?"
You shook your head and raked your fingers through his hair, making him growl at the sensation of your nails across his scalp. While he focused on positioning himself at your opening, you dragged your mouth over his shoulder, tongue dipping to trace over his scar. You couldn't do anything about them now except show them love, something you were realizing Marcus was desperately lacking in his life back home.
Home. The thought entered your brain right when he first pushed inside you, stealing the air from your lungs and bringing tears to your eyes. You did your best to brush it aside and focus on the present, like the way he stretched you open or the soft noise he made when he fully sheathed his heavy length deep within you.
"Fuck," you gasped, clawing at his shoulders while you tried to get your bearings.
He released a groan so guttural and deep it had you squeezing around him. Your mouth found a home on his neck as he slowly began to rock his hips, your lips and teeth leaving temporary marks over his skin to join the scars. Every kiss was slow, every touch was attentive and it was hard to stop yourself from giving into him.
"You - oh," he moaned, eyes sliding shut as he lost himself in the moment. It might have been the first time you'd seen him ever falter, and the thought sent a fresh wave of arousal through you. "You are so soft and beautiful," he mumbled before finding your mouth once again and plunging his tongue past your teeth. "I fear it is almost too much for me to bear," he confessed between kisses.
Marcus was unlike any man you had ever met in so many ways. His vulnerability staggered you. Most men you had known would consider it weak or embarrassing to speak the way he spoke, but Marcus managed to do it without sacrificing an ounce of his raw masculinity.
His broad shoulders and thick arms caged you in, giving you a feeling of safety and security you never felt before with another person. It was always you who had to be strong, who had to figure everything out and be responsible. And for once, with Marcus, it felt like you could let go and not have to worry.
Your body relaxed beneath him, legs spreading even wider to accommodate his powerful thrusts. He pulled an arm out from underneath you to press down on your thigh, pushing it into the mattress next to you in order to open your hips up even more. Then he leaned up just a fraction so he could grind his hips against you with his new found space, drawing a shaky moan from your throat when he came in contact with your clit.
Marcus paid attention. He took note of what you liked, what made you writhe and gasp and he teased you with it until you were begging him for more. He couldn't deny you, so he gave you what you asked. When you whined for him to go faster, he did. When you begged him to touch you, he did. He gave you everything you asked for until your legs trembled and your breath quickened and you were tossing your head back into your pillow, his name on your lips as you fell apart for him.
Then you gazed up at him, eyes smoldering, your lips swollen and parted and looking more beautiful and satisfied than he ever could imagine. Pulling him down to you by the back of his neck, you whispered his name in his ear and he shuddered, his hips faltering for a moment all because of one simple word from your lips.
"Marcus," you whispered again, mouth sucking a bruise into his neck. "Are you going to come for me?"
"Yes," he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he neared his peak. A lazy smile spread across your face, body still flooding with pleasure as he fucked you a little harder seeking his own.
His hand fell to your side, pulling you closer, rolling your hips in rhythm with his, and with his teeth bared and eyes flashing with hunger, he came with a broken groan that sent a shiver down your spine. You gasped at the feeling of him emptying himself inside you, eyes squeezing shut in ecstasy. His mouth crashed over yours with your eyes still closed. Your tongues danced together, first with lust, then once your heart rates slowed and your skin stopped tingling, with something more. Something like longing and desperation to hold onto the moment as long as you possibly could.
You both spent a little too long sharing tender kisses and gentle touches. For once, the world around you ceased to make noise and the only thing that mattered was what to order for dinner so you didn't have to leave your bed the rest of the night. You picked Mediterranean food and spent the hour after it was delivered discussing how it compared to the food he was used to, neither of you daring to mention the elephant in the room.
You curled up into his side, his arm draped around you, his back leaning against your headboard as you watched a romantic comedy together. Just as you were explaining the plot and how you had used the movie as inspiration for an article the year prior, a breakthrough was happening in Queens.
The volume on your phone was off and neither of you were paying attention to it lighting up on your nightstand, too busy ignoring the movie in favor of fusing your lips together again with your limbs slowly tangling together under the covers to notice the text come through.
Danny: staying in Queens for the night, we're on a roll. The mighty General shall be out of your hair b4 you know it.
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loveindefinitely · 11 months ago
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02 — 𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐'𝘔 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘒𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘈𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛
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༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader
featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price
warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, angst, graphic violence, slight power imbalance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, betrayal
series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.
// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //
"You assaulted two Special Forces Operators, kid," Price says, a barely veiled grimace contorting his features. "That's not a good look."
You tug against where your hands are cuffed to the metal bars, your brows furrowing. "Kidnapping the girl -- whose dad you killed after taking her virginity -- isn't a good look either."
...Alright.
So, if you could go back in time, and never eavesdrop on the four men who have completely ruined your life, you would take up the offer in a heartbeat.
Between landing your fist to Gaz's jaw, and where you are now, your life has become a total shit show.
Like, complete, this might just be a fever dream level of crazy.
It started from the moment you saw blood trickling from your now late father's forehead, and in the glint of the moonlight, seeing Ghost holding the gun.
Then, you'd turned, without another thought, and landed a punch right to Gaz's jaw. The man who had taken your first kiss no more than two hours ago.
You can relive the moment even now, under the harsh neon lights of an interrogation room, as if you're experiencing everything for the first time once more.
༊*·˚
Gaz hisses, wincing as he brings a hand up to the aching pain radiating from the bone that'd taken the brunt of your punch.
"You guys -- what the fuck --" You stammer out, eyes wide and borderline manic as you gape at the man before you. "You guys just killed my dad!"
"Yeah, but," Gaz starts, before backtracking. You figure he has enough braincells to realise that 'rationality and reason' isn't going to work with you, not in this state, and especially not after you just witnessed the murder of your only living family member. "Ah. Well. He wasn't a good guy."
You really, truly, cannot believe the audacity of this man.
Your mouth opens.
Gaz grimaces.
Your mouth closes.
He takes a step closer, hands raised in a placating gesture.
"Take another step near me and I'll punch you again!" You threaten, with an aggressive point of your finger.
You're extremely aware that your punch had done next to nothing, and Gaz's reaction to it was more one of sympathy, but the threat lands nonetheless.
"Alright, alright, we're not gonna hurt you," he raises his hands further, eyes bouncing between your own. You're not sure what he sees -- maybe resentment, or horror, or fear.
Whatever it is, it makes his frown deepen.
He goes to say something else, when your bedroom door opens with a soft click. "Finishin' up, ya read--"
Soap pauses his whisper, ice-blue eyes meeting yours. His grimace isn't unlike the one Gaz is sporting, and it only worsens your mood. If looks could kill, he would be lying on the grass beside --
Oh god. Your dead dad.
"Steamin' Jesus," Soap mutters under his breath, looking up to the roof in some semblance of a last minute prayer.
There's a moment, then, for a decision to be made. It's as if your brain can only come up with two options, and one of them will lead to your untimely death.
So, really, it's not entirely your fault when you pick up the salt lamp sitting on your bedside table and throw it right into the arrogant Scot's face.
"Holy shit," Gaz's eyes are comically wide as Soap cries out, the heavy pink rock slamming into his nose. He stumbles back, and the sound of your lamp hitting cartilage even has you wincing, panicked state or not. "How the fuck have you survived this long with those kinda reflexes, Soap?"
Soap drops into a squat, cradling his nose in his hand as he tilts his head back, squeezing the ridge between two calloused fingers. His voice comes out nasally as he mumbles, "Mighta' broke 'gain."
Your entire body is trembling, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you creep to the window with soft, quiet steps.
Maybe, you think, in the back of your mind, I can make the jump into the garden.
It's not to be, however.
"You're smarter than that," Gaz directs an unamused glare your way, before grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you towards your door.
Digging your heels into the carpet, you attempt to wrestle out of his grip -- but a trained military expert and you are no match, not even with the energy overtaking your body.
"Let go of me!" You grit out, tugging and displaying your weight in the opposite way to his goal. He doesn't even turn around as he drags you out of your room, slamming your door shut behind you.
"What the fuck is goin' on," Ghost's growl comes from the stairs, heavy bootfalls following until he's standing, gaze drifting from you, to Gaz, to Soap, back to you again.
"Fuck, man," Soap whines, squeezing his eyes shut as he keeps his head tilted back, blood running down his lips and chin. You somehow find it in yourself to feel slightly bad. Not enough to apologise, and certainly not enough to stop fighting back.
They were going to kill you. Probably. Or, like, what's the skin trade like in your area? Oh god. Fuck. Shit.
"She saw," Gaz mutters to Ghost, and his eyes narrow, black face paint crinkling where it's been put on the upper half of his face, skin not covered by the balaclava.
There aren't any lights on, and it's the lights on downstairs that cast shadows and highlights over the men's' faces.
"Fuckin' christ," Ghost groans, before turning and walking back downstairs without another word.
You continue to struggle against Gaz's hold, but both of your wrists have been collected in his hand, and he's pulled you so your back is to his chest. If it were any other circumstance, you'd be blushing, most likely turned on from such an embrace.
Right now, however, you're questioning every possible decision you've ever made.
"Ye Dad treated ya like shit 'nyways," Soap says, too loud to be under his breath, but too quiet for it to be conversational. "Dinnae why yer freakin''."
"You're murderers!" You hiss back, lips pulled back into a snarl. Your muscles ache from the punch, the hefty throw, and now from struggling against Gaz. "And I don't exactly have any other family, do I?!"
Gaz makes a sound of agreement, before shaking his head and countering. "We're not murderers, not really."
You choke a laugh, but it's entirely too wet and sad for it to be threatening or cruel. "So you guys didn't just shoot my father?"
"Si pulled th' trigger," Soap pouts, almost like a child would over a lack of candy.
"Soap," Gaz exasperates, and although you can't see his face, you're sure it's dismayed and annoyed. "Seriously?"
"What?!" Soap counters, and when it comes out high-pitched, he squeezes his eyes shut and holds his nose tighter. "Jus' tha truth, dinnae why yer so shitty. Yer not tha one bleedin'."
Speechless.
You are fully, unbelievably, speechless.
What the actual fuck was wrong with these... men? And what was wrong with you for being more than ready to spread your legs for them not too long ago?
You needed therapy. And coffee.
And a time machine, preferably. If one was made available at this given moment.
"Get down here," the final man of the hour shouts up the stairs, and your blood runs cold. There's something about him that's not quite as threatening as Ghost, but somehow makes you even more fearful.
Gaz, with surprisingly careful and gentle movements, guides you down the stairs. The parallel of how Ghost's hand had been at your lower back as he invited you to the lounge room, mere hours ago, isn't lost on you.
His hand doesn't move from the tense grip it has on your wrists. You can't help but feel like it's a completely unnecessary gesture, considering the fact that any of them could take you down within seconds if they really needed to. Hell, they all had actual, military-grade weapons.
"Seriously, Gaz?" Price huffs, looking entirely like a disappointed dad in this moment as he stands, leaning against your kitchen counter, arms folded over his chest, ankles crossed over. "One job, mate."
"You lot weren't exactly quiet," he retorts, but he slowly releases your wrists.
At this point, you know it's a lost cause to try and escape this situation, so you just ball your hands into wrists at your sides. You can't imagine it's an overly threatening position, considering how your entire frame trembles, and your lips wobble.
Your father was dead.
And the men that had made you feel so comfortable, so cared for, are the culprits.
Stupid, stupid girl.
They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.
"Peas," Soap's voice is practically a beg as he stumbles into the kitchen, opening the freezer door with no preamble as he scours it for... peas.
They're in the far right of the bottom shelf.
You don't tell him that.
"Have some water," Price encourages, holding out a glass cup full of chilled water.
Your eyes narrow, standing your ground. "Not accepting drinks from murderers. Dad taught me that, y'know?"
Gaz chokes a laugh, before covering it up with a fist to his mouth and a clearing of his throat. It fools no one, and you allow yourself the tiny bit of pride that fills your chest at the reaction to your taunt.
"Ghost," Price mutters, resigned and almost frustrated as he looks at you.
You understand why, as soon as the feeling of a needle imbedding into your neck has you flinching, pain prickling at the intrusion in your muscle.
"What --" you begin, before your legs fall out beneath you, your eyes falling to half mast as Price hefts you up, beefy arms holding you beneath your armpits as your body becomes dead weight.
"Sorry, kid," are the last words you hear, before black overrides all of your senses as drugged sleep takes you.
༊*·˚
Sometime between then, and now, you've found yourself in a white-walled room, blinding lights turning the throbbing in your head from a low pound to an echoing boom of a drum.
"We didn't plan for... any of it to happen the way it did. This was our only choice." Price shakes his head, hands resting at the top of his vest as he studies you.
Right. The virginity, kidnapping and assault thing.
...Great.
"I must've forgot the part where I resisted arrest," you retort, forcing your eyes to remain open, despite the heaviness to them. It's as if a weight has been hung from your eyelids, and every blink drags them down more and more each time.
"Jesus -- you're not under arrest," Price rubs at his eyes, head dipped down as if he's recollecting his thoughts. You're not sure if he's had any sleep, although your sense of time has been completely thrown out of the window.
"Then release me," you say, voice softer than you'd intended, more pleading -- a truer reflection of your current state of mind.
The air is crisp, cool, like that of a hospital. Chemicals and bleach are a potent undertone to the clean scent, and it makes you question what could've previously been done in this room to warrant them.
Your heart pounds almost weakly, and you know if there's any more heartbreaks to come, it might just give out.
How you've resisted a complete mental breakdown is beyond you, and frankly, you'd give yourself a pat on the back if you could. Although, that act might in itself be a sign of insanity.
"Not until we can be assured you're safe," Price insists. "And not until we can clear your name from the books. We have enemies, sweetheart, and those enemies were also your father's. They are not above punishing you for your father's sins."
Your heart is lodged in your throat, and it takes everything in you not to just burst into tears and pray. Pray that this is all some sick joke, some terrifying nightmare that you haven't woken from yet.
But you know it's a baseless hope. You know that this is real.
You're in a military base, somewhere, surrounded by the country's most dangerous men. The most dangerous men on their side, at least.
"So I'm not getting charged for assault?" Your voice is entirely too small for the situation, not for someone who's still cuffed to a bed, going through grief in the most ruthless type of way.
The worst part is that you don't entirely miss your father. You miss the comfort of having a family member, that's true, but he wasn't a good parental figure, and his treatment of you could be classed as abuse to most people.
And from what these four are saying, he wasn't a good man either.
People didn't often talk about how separate the two things were. It was possible to be a great man, but the worst of fathers, and the opposite could be true, too.
Fate had dealt you a bad hand, in giving you one who was terrible on both sides of the coin.
"Technically," Price leans back into his chair, his voice littered with exhaustion, "We... should report it."
Your stomach drops.
Price's eyes meet yours, and somehow, he must see the turmoil battling inside of your head, because he lets out a deep breath, deflating just a bit.
"No. You're not getting charged for assault, sweetheart."
"Don't call me that," you reply, too quick for your brain to catch up. The endearment is entirely too wrong, smarting on a chafing wound, a reminder of the mistakes you'd made, and the deception these men had pulled on you. "...Please."
You refuse to meet his eyes as he nods, slowly, as if in understanding.
"What did he do?" You don't mean to utter those words, to ask that question, but after you do, you can't find it in yourself to regret it. "What made him worthy of death?"
Price rubs a hand over his face, and for the first time, you register the lines of his face. Lines of a story having been told, proof of a life lived. It makes you want to learn, to find the origins of the small scars you can see, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
"He broke many promises. Betrayed his team," Price states, and you can tell the millions of words he leaves out, the context better off left unsaid. "He did terrible things. Killed people who had made no faults."
Oh.
For some reason, it hadn't truly hit you, not before now, the truth behind his death. What hadn't you been told?
How hadn't you been made aware that he was -- he was part of the special forces. He was a dangerous man -- he was one of the men he'd warned you about. How blind had you been? For so long? Those business trips, when he'd come with bruises, brushing them off whenever you gained the courage to make attempts of caring, of forming a relationship with the man who raised you.
They weren't business trips. They were missions -- ones with impossibly high death rates.
And he just.
Hadn't said a word. Just continued to treat you like you were worthless, a nuisance, a pain in his ass. Something worth protecting, if only so your weight in gold wasn't minimised.
What were you to do, if he just. Didn't come home after a mission gone awry? If he died on the field. If you woke up one day without a single living family member left.
You only realise that tears have fallen down your cheeks when Price's thumb brushes them away, your nose scrunching with a sniffle.
Jerking back, as if electrocuted, it takes everything in you to glare at the man whose gentle hands had led you to this position in the first place. "Don't touch me."
He backs away. Doesn't argue.
It hurts your heart in a way you don't want to touch with a ten foot pole. Not right now. Not ever, maybe. Preferably.
You let out a deep, stabilising exhale, before weakly meeting Price's gaze. "Can I sleep? Feeling kinda shit after the drugs," you mumble.
Price's lips twist into a grim line, but he nods curtly. "'Course, kid. Call out if you need 'nything."
You just lay back, turning on your side, facing the white wall as the lights turn off, leaving pitch black in its wake. Your wrist smarts where the handcuff has left a red mark, your free hand rubbing at the small patch of visible skin.
If you were more aware, more... ready for the conversations you needed to have, you would've demanded all four of them speak to you right this moment.
But your head is heavy, and thoughts are few and far between.
Grief and confusion cement in your brain like a thick fog, your emotions like cars without lights in the thick mist.
No directions, no ability to brake before crashing into one another.
You're an absolute mess, and you have no one to blame but you and your sick curiosity, your reckless decision making.
But, you realise, this was a long time coming.
Because there's one thing Price -- nor the other three men -- don't know.
Your father wasn't the only one who held secrets.
And it was you who held the key to this force's undoing.
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a/n. lol so like. who's ready for some enemies to lovers? sorry to everyone who wanted immediate hurt/comfort!! for some reason plot lines and depth hit me and i was like. i need to do it justice. so here we are!!!
thank you all SOSOSO much for the reception of the first part. it genuinely means a lot to have people excited about my stories??? like omg youre all SO kind. comments and reblogs make my absolute week!! mwah mwah mwah
taglist comment/msg to be added. @captainjamster @alfa-jor @simp4miguell @yaboibauldano @dreamaboutpinkk @guyser @lovewithasideoflust @redz0mbie @ghost-is-my-bbg @astro-ghoul99 @the-faceless-bride @casterousaudrey @cutiecusp @kit-williams @lilpothoscuttings @florabelll
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sunrisesfromthewest · 4 months ago
Text
First Encounter Part 6
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Warning:Marcus still on💯,Rated R language here and there🤬,Taking Birth Control💊(It’s for the plot don’t start blowing up my comment section,I got y’all 😭)in and out of readers pov,you’ll understand once you start reading📖
Previous Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Entering your bedroom your eyes peer around every surface, searching for your black furry baby." Midnight, baby where are you!" you said wondering where he could’ve gone, while you were......handling business in the shower. 
 After scavenging through your bed sheets and closet you place your hands on your hips, letting out a huff in frustration. 
 Crossing your arms, you look back at Armando, who is just now exiting the bathroom, towel still wrapped low on his hips, bringing out his v-line. Shaking your head you look away asking him what he did with your baby. "Promise me you want get mad, princess.” he said scratching the back of his head with a hesitant expression. 
Eyes twitching you reply, "The fuck you do with my baby." Before you could drill in on him, he walks over and grabs your hands attempting to calm you down. "He's okay, he started meowing loud, so I assumed he was hungry." Relaxing a bit, you remove your hands from his and make your way towards the kitchen anxiously. 
“For your sake, he better be fine!” you said, walking to his bowl, but stopping at the sight before you, mouth dropping open. "He's fine,Y/N all I did was give it a little foo-” pausing mid-sentence, Armando lets out a surprise laugh, at the sight before him. 
Your poor baby peaked up at you two, little face saturated, in what looked like milk or tuna. Watching as he returns back to eating his food, Armando says, "See princess, I told you he was okay.” 
Turning to give Armando a glare, you point down at your baby, "Does he look okay to you!" As if on cue, Midnight lays down beside his bowl, looking as high as a kite, little belly full to compacity. Bursting out in laughter, all Armando could do was smile at the scene before him. 
 "Since you think it’s so Goddamn funny, you clean it up!” you say smacking his arm, while making your way back to the room to get dressed. Hearing him laugh louder only caused you to smack your lips, in disbelief. 
With Armando in the kitchen cleaning up the mess he caused, you began to moisturize your body, knowing that you'll become ashy without it. Throwing on the clothes you set out, you make your way over to the restroom, to pick up, y'all discarded clothes. 
After putting the clothes in a dirty hamper, you looked around in the small shelf above it, in search of your birth control. "I need to make sure, I don’t bring, no baby into this messy situation." you mumble to yourself. Spotting the box, you examined it to make sure, the pills haven’t expired. 
 Shrugging when you see that it’s only, a few weeks passed the expiration date, you take one, mentally making a note to by a fresh box. Exiting the bathroom you see, Armando chilling on your bed, with your now clean baby, who looked like it was in a food coma. Chuckling to yourself, as you walked over to your dresser, you say, "Remind me to never leave you, in charge of my baby ever again.” 
As you pulled out clothes for Armando he laughs,” Yeah, I think that would be smart to do,”he said grabbing the shirt and sweats you set on the bed. Slipping on the clothes you gave him, he asked, "Hey, where did you put those pair of pants, I had on?" Raising your eyebrows, you point to the restroom saying, it in the dirty hamper. As Armando walks over to the bathroom, you head to the living room in search of your phone. 
After finding it, your eyes widen by all the messages popping up on the screen, some from Kelly and Dorn, but majority are from your father. Looking at the most recent text your dad sent, you gasped covering your mouth. 
Y/N, BABY PLEASE DON’T GIVE ME NO LOWREY GRANDBABIES, I DON’T THINK I CAN SURVIVE THREE OF THEM!!!!!   
Sent at 8:15 pm from Candy Killer 🍭🍴🍭
*Buzz*
GIRL, DIDN’T I TELL YOU TO NOT GET INVOLVE WITH HIM!    
Has it been that long since Rafe!?! 
Sent at 8:16pm from Sleeping Beauty 👸🏻👸🏻👸🏻
*Buzz*
Scratch what I said earlier this is the fastest I EVER seen you, give in for some dick.........I’m taking you to my therapist immediately!!!!!!!!!!!!   
Sent at 8:18pm from Prince Charming🫅🏼🫅🏼🫅🏼
Turning your phone off of silent mode,you watch as a text pop up from Mike, almost making you drop your phone. 
*Ding*
BRING YALL NASTY ASSSESS BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!!!!  
Sent at 8:20 pm from Money Mike 💸💸💸💸
Quickly making your way back to the room, you grabbed your duffel bag and picked up your baby while, yelling for Armando. 
Hearing the small commotion Armando walks back into your bedroom, picture from earlier placed in his pocket as he looked at your nervous expression. "What's going on? "He says lost by your sudden urgency to leave.  
Not saying anything you just passed Armando your phone, while making your way to the door, trailing behind you he stares at the phone with amusement as he reads some of the messages popping up. “This is what got you all frantic, Y/N and What’s up with these contact names?” he said smirking as he sees you turn around with a bewilder look.  
"The Caller Id names should be the least of your worries.You haven’t been around my father long enough to see him, freak out. One time he thought Mike was sleeping with my mom during a case, where they had to switch identities and he flipped the fuck out.... Climbing all on the house and shit......peeking through windows......and breaking the pool we had at the time.”
 Pausing at the door to catch your breath you give Armando a serious look, "I know you probably seen some crazy things, since you used to be in the Cartel but seeing the Marcus Burnett freak the fuck out is a whole level of craziness......especially when he finds out that you had sex with his daughter.”
Grabbing your keys, you make your way to the elevator lowkey scared of what’s to come, closing and locking your door Armando follows after you, eyebrows screwed in thought. 
“Hey, it takes two to tango, princess and plus like you said I’ve seen and done some crazy shit in my life so far. I think I can handle your dad throwing a tantrum about his precious little girl” he said sarcastically. 
“Okay, I tried to warn you." shrugging you enter the elevator pressing the floor level button. Following behind you Armando enters as well back leaning against the elevator wall, in thought. 
“He’s not gonna freak out that bad, is he?” he said becoming concern from your earlier response. 
Getting no reply from you, had his mind racing, with worry and anxiety.  
________________________________________________________________________________ 
After sending you another text of disappoint, Kelly throws a look to Dorn who seems to be doing the same things, but with a childish smirk. 
Right before she could walk over to scold him, for whatever dumb thing he sent you, she is grabbed by Marcus, who is still freaking out. 
Holding Kelly captive Marcus continue to sputter nonsense, which only left Kelly more discombobulated. Viewing the scene before him made Mike irritated and annoyed at his partner behavior.  
Fed up he walks over breaking the hold he had on Kelly, (which she greatly appreciates), pointing at Marcus, Mike says "Enough with the Bullshit!” 
“NO! Mike, you don’t understand...Y/N...my baby girl.... has actually gotten with a ‘Bad boy’ and the worst part is he’s your son. It’s Deja vu,all over again, first my little sister, now this......WHAT THE FUCK IS IN THAT LOWREY BLOOD! " Marcus says crying against Mike arm becoming hysterical. 
Rolling his already stressed filled eyes, all Mike does is pat his back, while saying with a smirk, "Most be some good shit since, you Burnetts can’t keep away from us.” 
Pulling away from Mikes embrace Marcus glares at him, "The fuck is that supposed to mean, “pausing Marcus throws his hands up in surrender, "You know what Mike don’t answer it.... I need to pray these evil spirits away.” 
“You know what Marcus,go do that, I'll be outside, creating a plan to get my wife back. Who should be my priority right now, not your whining ass!" tired of dealing with his tantrum Mike walks back outside, with Dorn and Kelly quickly leaving with him as well. 
__________________________________________________________________________________ 
Pulling up beside the AMMO van, you sigh as you put the car in park, nerves starting to get the best of you. Eyes peering over to Armando, you see him staring through the window in thought, probably thinking about what’s to come. 
Reaching across the console you grab his hand giving it a soft squeeze, "Penny for your thoughts?" Hearing him release a chuckle, he looks up at you smiling slightly, "Don't play you already know, what I’m thinking about baby," pausing he looks at you with unease before saying, "Is your dad really gonna wig out over this?” 
Watching his face turn into unease almost made you laugh, but you kept it in, "In all honestly, yes......but he’s probably going to go off on me, more than you." Seeing him visibly relax at your words made, you laugh, as you turned the car off. 
Getting out the car you said, "Just in case though, I would probably hide behind me or your dad!" Leaving from the car as well Armando face screws up, in confusion, "But you just said he’ll attack you more than me!” 
Shaking your head you smile widely, "I did but if you haven’t noticed by now, he likes to go after the biggest opponent!” Pausing to pick up Midnight and your duffel bag, you look up to see that Armando has moved to your side of the car, hand grabbing the bag from you, swinging it over his right shoulder. 
“And in this moment, it's you.” you say making your way over to the others who are talking on the dock. Armando stood there thinking about what you just said, but snapping out of it when you start walking away. Following behind you Armandos face falls back to its usual nonchalant look, as you walk up to the group. 
Dorn is the first to see you guys approaching, but before he could say anything Mike cuts in "Glad to see y’all horny assess made it back!" eyes run over y’all bodies picking up, on the change of clothes, but once he looks at your neck, he shakes his head in disbelief.  
“I could care less if you guys fool around but y’all couldn’t wait until after we rescued my wife.......MATTER FACT.......HELL YOU JUST MET TODAY!!!!” All you could do was nod your head in shame, while listening to Mike rant, although you don’t regret what you did, you could’ve chosen a different time. 
As you open your mouth to apologize, Mike silence you with a look, "I don’t want to hear a half as apology Y/N, all I want from you right now is to go deal with your dramatic ass Daddy.......he been giving me a headache since y'all left.” 
Biting your lip so you wouldn’t laugh, you send Armando a small smile, as you make your way towards the house. Brown eyes following your retreating figure, he hears his father clearing his throat, causing him to looking back at the group.
He notices everyone staring him down with they’re arms crossed, even Lockwood traitorous ass, was looking at him sideways. 
Sensing his son getting annoyed by the different looks he was receiving , Mike pulls Armando aside to have a little ‘talk' with him.
___________________________________________________________________________________ 
Walking into the house you see your father sitting on the couch, with his eyes closed. Confused you close the door silently behind you, while cautiously making your way towards him. Opening his eyes Marcus, stares you down as you sit there in silence, obviously waiting for him to say something. 
“Y/N.” your father says calmly while watching you hold Midnight against your chest.
Observing him as his gaze shift up to your heavily marked neck, you hesitantly whisper yes, waiting for your fathers response. "Did you at least use protection?” he says eyes still staring hard at your neck, biting your lip, you shake your head no, shifting slightly as you wait for his reaction anxiously. 
Nodding his head, he places his hands together eyes no longer gazing at your neck angrily, as he bounces his right leg against the floor. 
“I took a birth control pill tho,so you don’t have to worry about no LOWREY grandbabies." you said letting out a laugh, but clearing your throat instead when he gives you a blank look.”Y/N....you my youngest daughter and I love you......but do you truly believe......and I mean......TRULY believe.... that a damn pill stands a chance against LOWREY DNA!!!” 
Shocked by his words you say, "What?” 
Shaking his head in disappointment he says, "I don’t know who ass to beat....... yours or the future father of my unborn grandchild!”  
Tired of your father antics, you smack his arm to get his attention, "The ONLY grandbaby you getting from me, is right hear against my chest...stop worrying yourself to death. And last I checked Daddy I'm a grown woman,you can’t go around whooping my ass,when I do something, you disagree with.” 
Snapping his head up to you he stands up, pointing down at your stomach, "That baby just saved your life cuz who the hell you think you talking to like that,Y/N!” 
Rolling your eyes in frustration, you sat Midnight down as you stand up and yell, "For the last time I’m NOT PREGNANT WITH A LOWREY BABY and I’m talking to you!” 
Watching your father head look around the room, before pointing at himself he says, "That disrespect most come from your momma side of the family,cuz I’ll be DAMN,if I sit here and tolerate it. Fine your ass not pregnant, I'll take your word for it but the minute and I mean the second I start dreaming about some Damn FISH! I’m whooping somebodies ASS!” 
Laughing at your father foolishness, you say, "Okay, fine I fucked up tonight but can’t you discipline me another time, Christine needs are help right now, and Mike needs his partner, not a concerned father.” 
Giving your father a smile, you watch as he stares at you in thought, before rolling his eyes, "Yeah, we can drop it for now......besides I already forgiven you.” Pausing you analyze his body language, knowing that he usually doesn’t just forgive people so easily,especially when it comes to a situation like this. 
Widening your eyes, you make your way over to your purse that you left there, mouth dropping once you couldn’t find what you were looking for, eyes tearing up, you return your gaze to his not so regretful ones, 
"YOU ATE MY SKITTLES!” 
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Authors Note:Sorry it took so long to post part 6,I’ve been receiving a few message about the Spanish translations for Armando’s dialogue,in previous chapters.And Y’all Google did me Dirty,but the problem is fixed now😭😭😭,thank y’all for letting me know.I’ll stick to writing his parts in English for now on😂.
I ain’t gonna lie y’all this chapter is more like an appetizer instead of a meal.Stay tuned for part 7,tho💖💖💖
⬇️Also,this how our baby,was looking in that Kitchen😭and RIP SKITTLES you didn’t stand a chance😔😔😔
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luveline · 6 months ago
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omg I just saw your post about Steve where you asked which Steve we wanted. I'm missing KBD Steve so bad rn. Anything like a family movie night would really just heal my soul rn! (love your writings so much btw)
ty for requesting <3 mom!reader, 1k
“Did you play guitar?” 
Steve slinks further down into the corner of the couch, Avery too big but exactly where she’s meant to be in his lap. She’s affectionate from years of the world's most ridiculous parents, he assumes, so he could have Avery sit beside him rather than on top of him, but why bother? She’s gentle about how she sits despite her long limbs, swinging one arm behind his neck as she gets comfortable against his chest. 
“Did I what?” Steve asks. 
“Play guitar?” She points at the TV. “Uncle Eddie plays guitar.” 
“I can play a little bit, nothing like Uncle Eddie,” he says. “Just enough to serenade mom. I’d sing her all her favourites.” 
“So you had a guitar? Where did it go?” 
“I don’t know, babe. Maybe in the attic? There’s not room for all our stuff sometimes, so me and mom box it up and put it up there.” He looks at her knowingly. “Why, do you wanna try?” 
“Can I?” she asks. 
“Not tonight, but tomorrow? Is that okay? I’ll have to get the ladder from the garage, and we’re gonna watch a movie soon.” 
Avery’s pretty easy, as kids go. When Steve says tomorrow she doesn’t whine. In fact, she gives him a grateful, shining smile, the arm that’s laid across the front of him curling tighter as she presses her face into his neck. “Thanks, daddy.” 
He thinks that it’s because he’d guessed what she wanted. But that’s his job, to understand her and make her happy. “You’re welcome.” Then, because he loves her and he’s feeling quite loved up by her hugging and the feeling of her hair under his chin, he drops his voice into some rare parentese for her, “I bet you’ll be great at it. It takes some patience, but you have so much of it, and then you can play anything.” 
She giggles. “Like the song from The Neverending Story?” 
Steve’s heard enough of that song to last him a lifetime. “What about that song you and mom like? Have you seen her?” He’s tempted to sing it, and he figures it won’t hurt under his breath, “So fine and pretty, fooled me with her style and ease–”
Dove interrupts with a laugh as she tries to join in. The words escape her, but her passion makes up for it. She climbs up from her seat across the couch, sending the jellybeans she’d been holding in the lap of her nightgown careening across the living room floor. 
“Dove!” Avery says. 
“It’s okay, I’ll get them,” you say, standing just in front of the doorway with a towel around your shoulders. 
Steve hadn’t known you were there, you were gone so long for your shower he honestly forgot what you were doing. He groans as Dove drops her face into his jaw, what a disaster, but she doesn’t cry so he brushes it off while you clean up.
“Dove’s gonna help,” Steve insists. “Aren’t you, babe? Ow. You’re gonna help mom pick up your jellybeans. Ow, baby, don’t step on me.” 
“No,” Dove says with a giggle. “Sing again, daddy.” 
Beth jumps in behind you in fresh pyjamas, her hair damp and water wetting the neck of her t-shirt. That’s why you’d taken so long —your shower had been commandeered. It’s nice to see you both in some comfy pyjamas, better to see his lovely Beth feeling better. She’d been sick for so long it was starting to make him depressed; seeing her invigorated after a good shower and chasing down jellybeans with a mischievous smile makes his night. “I got them!” she says. “I got them, mom. There’s like, seven.” 
You hold out your hand. “Thank you. I think you got all of them.” 
Steve misses the rest of your conversation, a chubby palm smushed to his nose that he attempts to throw off. Avery giggles at his misfortune as Dove says, “Sing! Sing!” 
“I can’t sing, I can’t breathe,” he says. 
Dove pulls her hand back. She’s as close to rolling her eyes as she can get. “Sing.” 
“Now I can’t, Dove, you’re making me shy.” 
“Dad!” 
“You sing,” he suggests, leaning back, shielding Avery from her younger sister’s volatility with his arms. 
“We’re gonna sing so much.” You beam as you unveil the VHS tape for tonight’s movie. In time, your three girls gasp aloud. “Daddy’s favourite movie, the Little Mermaid!” 
“It’s not my favourite movie. That movie is my enemy. It makes all my babies cry.” Even Dove ends up in tears, though she usually cries when Ariel’s upset, rather than during Part of That World like her sisters do. 
“It makes you cry,” Beth says. 
“Beth, do we have a problem?” he asks. “Are you trying to get into a fight with me?” 
Beth grins and runs across the rug to climb up on the couch where Steve’s being submerged. She sits down by Doves’s feet, wrapping her arms around Dove’s little tummy, squishing herself to Steve’s side. “No, dad. I love you.” 
“I don’t believe you. I think you know you’ll lose if we wrestle.” 
You snort. Steve steals a glance at you between all the little arms, your hip pressed to the TV stand, your lip between your teeth as you click the wrong button. It’s not like you’re stupid, just the TV is old, and half the buttons don’t do what it is they say they do anymore. Your nose wrinkles and you backtrack, and Steve wishes he was standing right there to smooth it over with his thumb. After a few seconds of searching (and harassment on his end, Dove’s fingers dangerously close to his ear) you click the right thing and the tape that the girls were watching before dinner pops out. 
You smile to yourself at a job well done. Steve smiles at you, though you don’t see him doing it. 
“Your moms kinda pretty, huh?” he asks Avery. 
“Not kinda, super.” 
“How’s the baby?” you ask. 
Steve gives the baby monitor on the table by the couch a tap with his finger to make sure it’s still on. Feedback whines. “She’s hasn’t made a peep since your shower, honey.” 
“Maybe I’ll go see if she’s okay before the movie comes on. Miss the previews.” 
He can’t wait for you to sit down. “Okie dokie. Give her a kiss for me.” 
You raise your hand in scout’s honour. As you’re walking up the stairs, Avery shifts in Steve’s lap and asks, “You smile at mom all the time, does it make your cheeks hurt?” 
He sews a hand behind Beth’s back. “Nope. I have strong cheek muscles.” 
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gimmebackmyskeeball · 1 month ago
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Just friends? Fuck no.
author’s note: I love enemy!jj and I’m a hoe for an enemies you lover arc but I just want me a flirty best friend jj so bad so I had to write his headcanons (?). I don’t even know what this is actually. There’s hc and small little blurbs all together so it’s definitely a little longer than a blurb but not a one shot either. I’m confused but I hope ur not. Enjoy!
summary: just some hc(?) about best friend!jj !!
pairing: best friend!jj maybank x pogue!reader
First of all, you can’t convince me that this man isn’t clingy with his best friend. And honestly not just with you and Kie but with Jb and Pope too. So picture this, divorced parents, your dad lives in another country with his new wife and your mom lives with your sister whilst you stay in the château. Your best friend John B offered you a room after his father made it clear that he wasn’t going to be back soon if never. So now you’re practically living in the château, stopping by your own house to check on your mom and your sister every couple of days. That also means you’re practically living in the same house with the one and only Jj Maybank.
At that point you were familiar with the lines such as; “How can you wake up that early? What’s the deal with that?” or “Y/N open the door! I don’t care that you’re changing, I left my lighter in there!”. He would wake up in the spare room with his messy hair and in his John B’s shorts. No shirt, obviously. He has to show off those muscles. “Yeah, you know, this is what happens when you’re god’s favorite.” He act’s like this is totally from his genes and just basically from carrying stuff to help his dad and shit but his dirty little secret is that he works out for it. Not a lot but enough to keep him in shape.
He’d walk around the château looking for some kind of food, any kind. He’d see Jb standing in the hallway, fresh out of shower, hair wet, of course he wouldn’t miss the chance to make some kinda flirty comment. “Hey, Jb. Morning shower? Too bad, wish you had invited me.” John would scoff, rolling his eyes, “Stop saying shit like that, Jj.” But Jj being the Jj he is, of course he wouldn’t stop. “Cmon gimme a hug, babe.” “Get away from me.”
“Don’t be shy.” He’d playfully caress his shoulder, with a smile on his face. “I’m literally throwing up in my mouth.” John took a step back, replicating gagging noises. “Cmon, John B. Don’t hide the infamous John D from me.” The brunette boy would pick up a pillow from the couch, shoving it right in the middle of his face before speaking, “Dude, you creep me the fuck out.” In that moment you’d walk in door from the porch, you’d woke up early to enjoy to morning breeze because you knew you’d be burning and melting and suffering thanks to Jb who kept putting off getting his AC fixed. “There she is! Hey, peach.” he’d say smiling, walking over to you before grabbing your face and giving your cheek multiple wet sloppy kisses.
“Gross.” you’d mumble. You’re tripping if you think this boy wouldn’t call you some kinda cheesy lame nickname like ‘peach’ or ‘sugar’ or ‘cupcake’ that’s suddenly music to your ears when he says it with that crooked southern accent of his. “Okay, rude. You lookin’ mad cute today. Don’t wanna kiss?” you pushed his face away, not able to stop the smile growing on your face.
Since when did you pushed him? You made the blonde mad. He’d wrap his arms around your neck, placing his head on top of yours. He’d pull you towards him until your back was completely leaning against his chest. He was heavy, you had to give him that. He was hot too. Not that way. I mean, yes, that way, he was hot, everyone knew that, including him. But he was the type of guys whose body heat was always high. The heat from how he wraps his arms around you, hot. He’s hot. In every way, shape or form. “Jay, get off! You’re hot!” He’d raise an eyebrow, pretending to be impressed by your sudden compliment that he knew was not a compliment, “Oh, I’m aware. But too bad I’m not gonna get off of ya.”
Definitely the kind of guy that would get offended if you told someone he wasn’t your boyfriend, “No partners over! This is my house and y’all are using it as a motel six!” John yelled to Kiara who had just been walked in by the owner of that very house. “That’s not fair! Y/N and Jj stay here all the time!” Kiara bit back. You crossed your arms over your chest, furrowing your brows, “What does that even mean?” Kiara sighed, “It means that boyfriend and girlfriends do stay here together and that I’m allowed to too!” you gave her a disgusted look, okay, to be completely honest, it was kinda cute she said that but you couldn’t act like you find it cute. Obviously. “We are not!” you whined. Jj shot you a look, “I mean, you don’t have to say it like that…” he frowned. The man actually frowned.
“Huh?” you were genuinely confused, was he upset? “You didn’t had to sound so aggressive about it…”
Sometimes he’d come up to you in the middle of the night, tv noises coming from the living room, meaning Jb wasn’t asleep either. “Peach?” you saw his figure on your doorstep,“Yeah, Jay?” you sat up on your bed. “I can’t sleep.” he walked over to you, sitting on your bed. “Why?”
He pouted, “Hot.” Oh how the tables have turned, “Thank you.” you spoke as he’d grin, scooting over more to your side. “I always appreciate a self aware girl.” “Okay, back off playboy.”
You scooted back, closer to the head of your bed now. “I’m just being honest.” he kept moving to get closer to you as much as he can. “Well, keep your honest ass over there.” you gently pushed his knee, trying with everything you have in you to keep your distance.
Sometimes you’d wonder if you were really only best friends. You knew how you felt about him but this is how he was with everybody, so he was ridiculously confusing. All the long weed sessions in the Twinkie, the way he’d beg to be the one rubbing your sunscreen, how he’d get visibly happy every time you’d pick him to sit next to on the couch. He is cheesy. And he isn’t embarrassed of it. If anything he knows he’s cheesy and I feel like he’s proud of it.
He’d yawn and gently stretch his arms, one of them slowly going over your shoulders and he’d end up caressing your arm. You know what he’s doing, he knows you know what he’s doing. Is he ever going to stop? No one knows. The way he’d rest his hands (definitely and totally not gripping them like you’re gonna jump off the bike and run away) on your thighs on red lights whenever you’re on his bike for him to drop you off for you to see your mom.
How he’d wrap his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder despite your whines about how you want him off of you. It’s just him, it’s just Jj Maybank and you don’t know if he’ll change or not. Not that you want him to, anyway.
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rafeandonlyrafe · 6 months ago
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the same tv
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words: 1.8k
warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, parent death, funerals, robbery, redemption/forgiveness, addiction, drinking (wine, not like hard drinking), tickling, cockwarming, they call themselves kids at one point but at no point are reader or rafe under 18, like itll make sense once you read it in context
the first thing you do when you enter your house is kick off your shoes. the next is to stop holding back your tears as they stream down your face. you can't even sob anymore, just silent, steady tears.
you sigh as you look around the entryway. there's been some changes since you moved away, despite only being out of your parents house for a little over a year. they replaced the grand portrait that was of your mom's parents with one of you, now taking the place of honor.
you look away before you get to the rest of the family photos. you've seen enough at the funeral. you walk further in to the house, bare feet against the shiny wood floor.
you pause when you hear something further in. you haven't forgotten how the old house seemed to speak, groaning and settling during strong winds or when too many people were crammed between it's walls.
this sound seems different, but you're also occasionally sniffling, your ears are shot from blasting music in an attempt to distract yourself, so you shrug it off and walk further into the living room.
the sound suddenly makes sense as you see someone stood in your living room, arms holding up your parents flat screen television, awkwardly trying to carry it.
you aren't even mad. you honestly don't care about the tv. or the fact that someone is trying to rob you.
you let out a bitter laugh before you sink to the floor. “of fucking course this happens.” you are glad you still have your purse slung from your shoulder as you pull your wallet out, quite aggressively throwing it at the robber who has now frozen.
“what?” he questions, lowering the tv to the ground and pushing his hood of his head, a dumb move for someone currently committing a crime.
“this has been the worst week of my life and now you're robbing me. just my fucking luck…” you let out a broken sob. “just take whatever you want and leave.”
the only things that matter to you still in the house aren't actually worth anything anyways. the photos of your parents, your dad's cologne that's half empty, the oak tree that your childhood dog is buried next to.
“i thought the people who lived here died.”
you pick your head up, a look of fury overtaking your face.
“they did. they're my fucking parents! and now they're gone and you're fucking robbing me! get the fuck out!” you stand up, pushing at the robbers chest.
he looks familiar, like you should know who he is but can't place him.
“im-shit. im sorry.” he says, allowing you to shove him away and out the door. 
“im really fucking sorry!” he yells again before you slam the door shut.
-- years later --
you park your car in the driveway instead of pulling it all the way into the garage like you know you should, but you need to know if you're correct about the man sitting on your front step.
“you're the kid that tried to rob me.” you say as you walk the sidewalk to the porch.
“yes.” he says, looking ashamed and a whole lot more grown up. “i was an addict and i owed a debt. my dad had just kicked me out of the house and i was on my own for the first time. it was stupid of me, but when i heard the people living here died, i thought it'd be a victimless crime.”
he sighs deeply, like even just thinking back to that time physically hurts. “i didn't even think that someone could have inherited the house. im so, so sorry.” 
he swallows thickly. “my mom died when i was young. my dad- my dad just died recently. he faked his death and i got him back, but he's actually gone this time. you know what you said about the worst week in your life?”
you think back those years. it's mostly a blur, especially the days surrounding your parents car crash and funeral, but you do remember breaking down in front of the robber. you nod gently, waiting to hear the end of his speal.
“i know what you mean now. and im sorry i hurt you. im sorry about your parents dying.” he pulls something out of his pocket, extending his hand.
you look into his open palm, realizing it's a ornate gold necklace.
“no.” you shake your head. “you keep it. you don't need to bribe me to forgive you.”
“i want you to have it.” he says. “it's… it's not a lot, but it's something. something to help make up for what ive done.”
you reach forward, carefully taking the necklace out of his outstretched hand, carefully not to accidentally bump his skin. 
“thank you.” you say, admiring the way the sun gleams off the metal. 
“im rafe, by the way. rafe cameron.”
“y/n.” you respond, undoing the clasp of the necklace.
“here, let me.” he takes it out of your hands, moving quicker than you can think as he steps around you. your hair is already up in a bun, so rafe is able to reach around and easily place the chain around your neck.
“thank you.” the weight of the necklace feels comfortable against your skin, like it's the last finishing touch you need. you are wearing your mother's earrings, your father's bracelet, and now you have the other piece of what made that time in your life so miserable, your robbers necklace.
“i… i guess ill be going now.” rafe says.
you turn and watch him walk away. you recognize so much of your former self in him, the clear grieving he's going through.
“are you sober now?” you call out before he reaches the end of your driveway.
“sober enough.” he shouts back. rafe doubts he'll ever truly be clean, but he can at least manage now, doesn't need the drugs like he used to.
“then come back for dinner tomorrow. we can talk.”
you can see the smile stretch over his features. “ill be there.”
-- three months later --
“shit.” rafe says, head snapping over to you. “this is the same tv.”
you giggle and nod, surprised it took him so long to realize. “i never really watch tv on the actual tv, so no need to replace it.” you shrug, the gold necklace still draped over your neck. you haven't taken it off except to shower and sleep.
“god, thats crazy.” rafe looks over to you. “imagine if we just talked back then.” 
you shake your head. “you just think you want that because we get along now. we were both in bad places.”
“you don't think we would have been hooking up back then?” rafe asks, raising an eyebrow at you, watching the way your thighs press together at the mere mention of hooking up, already feeling the urge to sleep with rafe even after having sex only a couple of hours ago.
“we were two scared kids. if we were hooking up we definitely shouldn't have been.” you giggle, reaching your wine glass out for rafe to refill, which he is glad to pour a more than healthy amount in.
“and now?” rafe looks down at his lap.
“and now we are two slighty less scared slightly older kids.” you giggle again, taking a deep sip before leaning across the couch cushion to press a kiss to rafes cheek, the movie you had put on long forgotten.
“rafe.” you wait until he looks you in the eye. “im here for you.”
“god, what have i done to deserve you?” rafe wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you on top of him as he flops back onto the couch. 
you let out a laugh before it's cut off with his lips. he kisses you heavily, hand against the back of your head, not allowing you to pull away, not that you want to.
you let himself get lost in your kiss. you wish you had someone to support you in the time you needed most, and you're determined to be that person for rafe now.
rafe easily dominates your mouth even though he's underneath you as you quickly work your shorts off, wiggling against him until your bottom half is nude.
you press against rafes crotch, still covered by his sweatpants. you feel his cock straining against the fabric as you rub your pussy against it, wetting the gray material.
“baby, please.” rafe groans. he would pull his cock out himself, but his hands are preoccupied holding you close to him as if his life depends on it.
“oh, now you don't like teasing?” you smile.
“alright, i deserve this.” rafe also manages a chuckle despite his straining erection. “but please. need to feel your pussy ‘round me.”
“alright.” you roll your eyes dramatically. you'll have to get revenge on rafe at a different time for edging you the other night.
you push his pants down his thighs until you're able to reach into his underwear and pull out his cock. you give him a few quick strokes before lining up your entrance and sinking down.
rafe let's out a moan, barely pulling his face away from yours. “you're so wet.”
“it's almost like i like you or something.” you roll your eyes.
rafe laughs before kissing you again, hand moving up to your hair, tangling his fingers between the strands.
you sit on his cock for a moment, adjusting, before beginning to move, up then down, up then down, subtle movements of your hips, not needing anything fast, wanting drawn out, wanting it to last.
the movie is long over by the time rafe finally cums, a hand finally moving down to rub your clit to make sure you get off at the same time as his.
by the time you're both satisfied, you're sweaty and exhausted. you don't even bother to pull off his cock as you rest your head against his chest.
“thank you.” rafe says softly, rubbing his hand over your back. you don't need to ask what for. you know. for being there. you'll always be there.
you look up at him, a small smile on your face. “how are we gonna tell people we met?”
things are quickly getting serious, and while he hasn't breached the subject with you yet, neither of you have been hiding how quickly you're falling.
“what, you think it's a problem that we met when i was robbing you?” rafe says, making you giggle, only intensified by his hand pressing into your side, fingers tickling you as you howl with laughter.
rafe flips you over onto your back so you're underneath him, keeping his cock pushed inside of you.
“maybe we should just tell people we met on tinder.” rafe shrugs.
you roll your eyes. “somehow that's more embarrassing.”
taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1 @edszn @theoraekenslover
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sushis-wild-imagination · 6 months ago
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Seventeen as dads part 3 (All members)
I am so obsessed with this series, I’m weak for dad!seventeen More dad!SVT and other fics on Seventeen Masterlist <3 Genre: FLUFF
→Choi seungcheol
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"Will you help dada fix the showerhead?" Seungcheol asks your first born daughter, Siah. Seungcheol was in the bathroom being stubborn that he could fix the showered in the bathroom himself. Your 2 foot high daughter leans on the door frame looking up at her father.
She nods as her dad asks her to help.
"Can you hand me that wrench?"
"Wench?" she repeats wrongly.
"W - RENCH" cheol corrects her again.
"This one?" she points her little finger to every tool in the box and finally gets to the one he wanted. Cheol was very patient with her. He believed in her, it helped built her confidence too.
She handed her dad the wrench.
Cheol did some pushing and pulling, meanwhile siah really wanted hands on experience in this plumbing apprenticeship.
"How are my two star plumbers doing?" you ask walking into the bathroom to see what trouble these two were up to.
Cheol now had Siah on his shoulder while she played with the showerhead acting like she was helping fix it.
"We're almost done, my associate here is new so she's a bit confused" he says pointing to her daughter on him.
Suddenly there is a 'thak" sound and water comes down pouring on cheols face.
You burst out laughing.
“What are you laughing at?” He asks playfully and pulls you into the shower area so now you’re also soaked. This is responded with some sqeals and squeaks.
“Never calling this plumber duo again” you say laughing.
“Well the plumber duo loves you” he says with a cheesy smile and takes siah off his shoulder to bring her between the two of you, now shes soaked too.
→Yoon Jeonghan
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"Stop pushing our kid into the pool" you say giggling as Jeonghan playfully throws your 5 year old son, Hyun woo into the water.
Hyung woo hated the water when he was younger, especially the sea. But now it's a mammoth task to get him out of the pool.
"Again! Again!" Hyun woo screams while you could see jeonghan's energy battery running low.
"He'd make you do this all day" you say sitting poolside, reading a book.
"That's all, that's enough" Jeonghan says and pulls Hyun woo out of the pool, now comes the tantrum. Jeonghan uses the last of his power to pull his son out of the pool and airplane him to where you are sitting. He dropped your tantrum throwing son on you. He made you scoot in the small pool chair and stuck close to you, putting his head on your shoulder, boy was he exhausted.
"Does your battery have enough power to pass me the sunscreen?" you playfully ask him.
"There's always a reserve battery for you my love" he says and also gives you a complimentary peck on the shoulder before he retracted to the same position as before.
→Hong Joshua
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There was chaos in the Hong Residence as two boys, Dojoon 7 and taehyun 5, run around yelling and screaming. Two hyperactive boys were definitely a lot to handle.
"Boys, Boys!" Joshua claps his hand to get their attention.
"I have a mission for you"
their eyes light up and Joshua has their full attention. They loved missions, they recently got into spy movies and when they hear the word mission, they snap into their alter ego, little spies.
"Dojoon's mission is to clear up your toys on the floor and Taehyun's mission is to bring all the clothes from the dryer to the living room then mom and I will teach you how to fold laundry" he recites all the tasks. You loved doing chores as a family, it was possible on the weekends and you thought the boys would learn how to do things. It was the easiest way.
The kids rush to do their chores and the first one to finish was the elder one. This made the younger one upset, he came crying to you. The two boys are very competitive.
You end up giving them both some cookies. The calmed Taehyun down.
“We need to get them off cookies”
“Just this once please” you tell your husband pulling a cute puppy face. The boys loved cookies and it was easier to calm them down that way. Joshua hates it.
“Last time, promise?”
“Promise” you say pecking his cheek.
→Moon JunHui
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“Noo I don’t want to, what if I hurts, and you flush it away”
“You want to keep it?”
Your son nods.
Your 2 and a half year old son is sobbing on his potty chair, not pooping because he thinks its a part of his body and he’s going to lose an arm if he poops.
You knew if was something Jun might’ve told him so you call him over.
“Hes not letting me flush his poop, he thinks we can raise it” you explain to jun sighing.
Jun ends up laughing at this.
“Please?” Your son asks in a small timid voice.
“Its going to start stinking baby”
“It already does” Jun chimes in.
“Caterpillar”
“You think its a caterpillar?” Jun asks and your son nods.
“Its just rubbish, it goes into the dustbin, the toilet is the poop dustbin.” Jun tells his son.
After half and hour of discussion, your son was finally ready to let it go.
“Where is he learning all this?” Jun comments in general.
“Are you sure its not you?” You ask playfully.
“No wayyy!” He says clearly lying.
“You’re lucky we didn’t have to raise his poop”
→Kwon Hoshi
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"Appa, I'm going to fall, I'm going to fall" you 6 year old son, Ji ho screams at the top of his lungs. Both the tigers are very loud, it took you some time to get used to. You literally gave birth to a Soonyoung junior. They're too similar. So they clash a lot.
“I haven’t even let go, stop screaming”
“Appa appa!” The little boy screams and goes down the small hill at the park.
“Don’t look back, look ahead, you’re doing it”
“Im going to hate you if you let go!” Your son screams at your husband.
Knowing your husband, he definitely let go and you hear your sons screams again.
“Appa i hate you!”
“You’ll never learn if i don’t let go, you want me to hold the back all the way to school? Whats the point of riding?” Hoshi scolds him.
Your son comes running to where you were sitting and he takes his shoes off to sit on the blanket.
“Appa is not trust worthy”
“You’ll thank me one day!” Soonyoung says and plops himself next to you on the picnic blanket, putting his head on your lap.
Your son joins him and now the two boys were playfully fighting to keep their heads on your lap.
“She’s my mom!” Jiho tells his dad to grt off of you. All this makes you giggle.
“Shes my wife! Get your own wife!” Soonyoung tells him off playfully.
“Im 6!” Your son exclaims.
→ Jeon Wonwoo
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“See, now if I move my piece 4 places, I catch one of yours, so you take it back to your house” wonwoo explains to your 5 year old daughter.
She was suddenly on the verge of tears when her dad captured her piece in a game of ludo. She clearly hated losing.
“Appa is cheating!” She kicks her feet in annoyance.
“Thats the rules” Wonwoo says very logically defending himself from a 5 year old. It was hilarious to watch.
“She’s 5! Let her win” you say from the couch shile you watch the two cuties play ludo on your living room floor.
“She’s going to become a brat if I let her win” wonwoo comes back to you with more logic. Hes not wrong but once?
“Just let her win once!” You ask him again. He shakes his head.
“Come here, you and me, we’ll be one team” you say as you slide down the couch on to the floor.
Your daughter calms down a little while she sits on your lap. “Lets make daddy lose” she says and rolls the die again.
You very strategically play and capture 2 of wonwoos pieces in the next 3 rolls. Your daughter was happy now and wonwoo was stressed.
“Yes! We won! Daddy lost!” She sticks her tongue out at Wonwoo.
“See? This is what I meant” he says and bites his lower lip acting like he’s angry about the gesture.
You giggle at your cute husband.
→ Lee Jihoon
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“Im going to throw it now, eyes on the ball okay?” Jihoon tells his 6 year old daughter who is wearing a hand glove thats bigger than her face. It was cute to watch.
You could see them through the living room window where you sat to read a book.
Jihoon makes the first throw that goes over the little ones head.
Her eyes follow the ball like her dad asked her to.
“Its too high”
“Jump to catch it” he teaches her but she groans.
“Just throw me a ball I can catch”
“Jump jump” he repeats stubbornly throwing another ball over her head.
She hates running to get the ball. This time she makes it her mission to make her dad run and get the ball. She throws the ball full swing and it hits jihoon right where the sun don’t sun.
You burst out in laughter watching the love of your life fall to the ground and groan in pain.
“Thats it for the day” he says between the pain and finally gathers himself enough to come back to the living room.
“That was some revenge shot”
“Our daughter is very powerful” he says remembering the pain and almost wincing again just at the thought.
“Im sure she takes after you honey” you smile at him.
→ Xu Minghao
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Your younger daughter and your husband, Minghao, were standing in front of the bathroom mirror.
Minghao lost a bet yesterday about something silly and the punishment was to make your daughter hair. It was punishment because your daughter hated it when someone touches her hair or brushed it. It's a recent development. She would throw tantrums and it was just difficult.
It was minghao's first time touching her hair and he was visibly nervous too. He didn't want to hurt his little princess. Understandably.
"What do you want me to do today, princess?" he says hovering his hand over her hair, not sure where to put it.
"I don't want to!!" here it starts.
Minghao gets down to her level on his knees to talk to her. That's how he gets everyone. He has a way with words. A smooth talker you fell for.
"Why not?"
"It hurts"
"Daddy will do it softly, very very softly, and we stop the second you feel hurt okay?" he explains to her and try to touch her hair again.
He does it so softly like even the slightly touch would hurt his daughter.
"Ah" your daughter lets out a yell and Hao begins to inspect that area softly pushing hair away so he can see.
"Look, she has a rash"
she was not throwing a tantrum. She really was hurt, it made you feel horrible. you immediately apologise to her and bring some ointment for it.
"I'll brush it softly okay? so the knots are out" he tells her before he continues. She trusts him, you trust him.
You take some ointment out to put on her but she refuses.
"I want daddy to do it" she says and you nod understandingly.
He helps her with the ointment and your daughter finally has brushed hair. She hops away happily while you watch.
"I can't believe I missed it"
"It's normal, don't worry" he reassures you.
"This wasn't even punishment, she loves you doing her hair" you complain and he chuckles.
"Want me to do your hair?"
"Only if you do it as softly"
"Always"
→ Kim Mingyu
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Kim mingyu, your husband of 5 years was working out in his work out room, he made a area attached to the living room a work out area so he didn't have to go to the gym, but occasionally still sometimes ends up going to socialise with friends while he exercises.
He had become much more of an exercise person once Bora was born cause he wanted to be as energetic with her as possible. He wasn't ready for his body giving up if he had to play with Bora or worse save her life.
You were passing by his work out area with the laundry basket but watching him working out your feet stopped and you ended up staring at him.
"What are you looking at?" his voice snaps you out of your staring.
"Huh?"
He smirks and you throw a sock at him at shut him up. If you stared longer you would've drooled physically.
You watch Bora's little legs run to her dad.
"Hello, to you too!" you say sarcastically and playfully as your daughter ignored you. Bora found Mingyu's gym contraptions very fascinating. She might be into exercising too. She loves being active.
Bora climbs her dad and somehow gets to his shoulders. What a total monkey. Only her tail is missing.
He ends up doing chin ups with bora on his back, no idea how he is this strong, but you were glad that he is.
while you come back to the living room with dry clothes to fold you see mingyu doing push ups with Bora on the floor.
"You're too sweaty" she screams as Mingyu's seat drops on Bora who was under him, every time he came down he would shower bora with kisses as she counted.
It was the sweetest thing to watch.
"I'm done, you can stop staring"
oh the things you would do to wipe that smirk off his face, right now all you could do was throw a dry towel to his sweaty face.
→ Lee Dokyeom
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"What is this you do daddy?" the little girl asks her dad while he puts on multiple toner pads on his face.
Since it was a Sunday, dokyeom scattered all his skincare on the living room floor, ready with a bare face to pamper his.
"This is for my skin, so it's soft and pretty, like yours" he explains to her while she listens intently.
"My skin is soft and pretty?"
"of course it is, because you're a baby"
"I'm a big girl, I want to do this too" she whines a little. You overhear this conversation.
"should I cut you some cucumbers to put on your eyes?"
You take your child to the kitchen and she watches you cut some thin slices of cucumber, she was very excited. She ends up taking the plate to her dad rushing to be a part of this salon play.
You follow her out while she lays on the floor next to her dad. You sit by her feet and suddenly DK starts a salon skit.
"Hello Ma'am, what would you like today?"
"Cucumbers" she responds cutely.
DK places the cool cucumbers on her eyes that make her shiver.
"Would you also like a foot massage ma'am?" you ask her as you rub her feet. You hadn't done this since she was a little baby. It brought back memories and how much she had grown.
Your daughter, meanwhile is busy munching on the cucumber she's supposed to have over her eyes.
"Hey, are you just eating it!" DK scolds her playfully.
She giggles in response. Her giggles are the most adorable sound.
Between the massage and the cucumber facials, your daughter falls asleep in the middle of the both of you. DK slides his butt to sit next to you. You subconsciously put your head on his shoulder.
"She's growing up too fast, I don't like it"
"Wait for the day she says 'I don't need you' I'm going to start bawling my eyes out" DK says and a visual of him doing that dramatically flashes in your head that makes you giggle.
"I'll be right next to you probably also sobbing my eyes out" you mention and he gives you the sweetest smile.
→Boo Seungkwan
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Your husband was pacing back and forth with your 2 year old son in his arms trying to get him to go to bed. It was 11pm already, way past his bed time, but you just couldn't get him to sleep.
It had become practice that Seungkwan sings him a soft lullaby and some walking in his father's arms knocks him right out.
You saw him whispering a song and couldn't help but hum it yourself while you put away all the toys he played with today so they don't poke your feet in the morning.
Your humming perked his eyes and seungkwan gave you a side eye for waking his baby up, you mouth a sorry.
"Mommy's here?" you wakes up to find you. He never gets to see you in the night because you come home late from work.
He immediately wants to come to you, you take him for a second say hi give him some kisses and give him back to seungkwan, despite all his whining, sleepy whining.
You pat seungkwan's back as a 'best dad' pat and move on to the toys on the living room.
→Choi Vernon
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You were surrounded by paper and scissors and scrap paper. Your kindergarten going son, Derek had a project at school to make a jar full of cranes to bring to class.
Of course, a child's project is the whole house's project. Now, it was you, Vernon and Derek Sunday afternoon, making a jar full of cranes.
You were teaching Derek how to make a paper crane and the folds were too tough for a 3 year old.
Vernon folded one crane a little too big and filled the entire jar.
"Tada! We're done!" he announces clearly with so much space left.
Derek giggles. "No daddy, there is so much left"
"No look? It's all done, one big crane fits the jar, just tell your teacher that" he jokes with him.
It makes you giggle too.
You end up having a nice family bonding time when you do arts and crafts with Derek.
→Lee Chan
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“The same one?”
Your daughter nods.
Your daughter, 5, has been asking for the same story about the elephant and the ant for the 100th time. She only sleeps once shes heard that story.
Chan can recite that story in his sleep. Its the same thing over and over. Your daughter could finish his sentences at this point. Once the story was done, Chan tucks her in and turns the light off.
“How can I forget?” Chan pretends to gasp and showers your daughters face with kisses.
Your daughter wipes her face.
“Don’t do that, Im a big girl now”
“Okay okay” He says and shuts the door, it does break his heart a little bit.
He comes to you looking a little mopey.
“Is she in bed?” You ask your husband. “Yeah” he says and comes to cuddle you.
“She said she doesn’t want to be tucked in with kisses anymore” he mutters. You run your fingers through his hair. “She’s growing up a little too fast, I don’t like it” he pouts.
“She’ll always be your little girl” you tell him.
“Always”
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