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farfromstrange · 3 months

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Unicorns Need Love Too | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Your hormones make existing a living hell sometimes. Thankfully, Matt is there to help

Warnings: Fluff, self-indulgent, suggestive language, heavy allusions to smut (MINORS DNI), attempt at humor, not proof-read

Word Count: 2k

A/n: This is a brain fart because I, myself, have a pimple in the middle of my forehead and I feel like a fucking unicorn. I don't even know if it's any good. Just have at it & enjoy!

The few weeks leading up to your period are always the most chaotic and the most draining, but over the years, you have gotten used to only having a few days out of four weeks every month where you feel somewhat normal.

The days between ovulation and the actual start of a new period are probably the worst though—together with the week of hell that follows, of course.

Matt loves it when you ovulate. Your boyfriend’s heightened senses make it possible for him to smell the change in your pheromones, and they drive him borderline insane. It doesn’t help that you always seem to need him more than air when you’re in that fertile window of your cycle, and even though you’re not interested in having a family, he always has to fill you to the brim until you’re overflowing with his cum. Alone the thought of that makes his cock painfully hard.

Unfortunately, though, your body’s desperate need for pleasure isn’t the only side of you that comes out during that week. Every month, Matt discovers something new about you. Every month, he finds something new to love, and he finds strange quirks of yours that may seem odd to him at first, but he still adores them as much as he adores the rest of you.

“Why does it smell like a chemical plant here?” He pokes his head into the bathroom, his chiseled body dressed in the red leather of his Daredevil suit, minus the cowl and his gloves.

You turn to him from the sink. Your eyes roam over his body before they land on his face, meeting his unfocused gaze. “It’s my skincare,” you answer.

What did he think you were doing? Building a chemical weapon? Cooking meth? He would have been able to smell that much more clearly than your skincare products.

“What are you using?” Matt asks, leaning against the doorframe in all his glory as he slides those beautifully thick fingers of his into his leather gloves.

Your eyebrow quips. “Salicylic acid. Why?”

The way he looks at you, forehead slightly wrinkled as he frowns, reminds you of a concerned parent when their child has found a sharp object to play with.

“That smells dangerous.”

You shrug, continuing to rub the solution into your skin. “It pulls the gunk out of my pores.”

“And that works?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. His expression remains wary. “Just don’t inhale it.”

“Matt, this isn’t the first time I’ve used it. I’ve had acne since I was a teenager,” you remind him.

A small smile plays on his lips, mirroring yours. “I know. Just want you to be careful, that's all.”

You put the tube down, turning your whole body to him. “I have never heard of death by skincare,” you say, “but I’ll be careful. Promise.”

The answer, albeit a bit sarcastic, satisfies him. Matt fastens his gloves with a happy little nod. “Thank you. I’ll, uh, be back in a few hours,” he says, coming over to press a kiss to the top of your head, his hand cradling the back of it. “Don’t wait up. You’re drained.”

You open your mouth to protest, “I can wait for you.”

“Not at this point of your cycle. You’re going to be cranky tomorrow.”

You’re aware that Matt knows your body inside and out. He knows you better than you could ever know yourself. He can sense things that even you can’t pick up on. At first, it was something you had to get used to, but you have grown accustomed to his heightened senses and the perks they bring with them.

Tipping your chin in his direction, you retort, “I’m not sure if I should take offense to that.”

“Don’t,” Matt says nonchalantly. “If I had an organ lose its shit every month because it wants to be fertilized, putting you through the works to prepare you for it, and then cause me to bleed and cramp uncontrollably for a week straight as revenge when I refuse to let a myriad of sperm play tag you’re it inside me, I’d get cranky too.”

That description sounds almost too perfect. You lean forward to capture his plump lips in another passionate kiss. “Fair point. Be safe, please.”

“Always.”

“That’s a lie,” you say.

“I promise, I’ll be safe.”

“That’s better.”

He strokes his thumb over your cheekbone. “Love you,” he says, and he kisses you one last time.

Whenever he goes out at night, Matt kisses you as if you are never going to see him again. It’s a possibility you have often cried over. You’ve obsessed over everything that could go wrong.

He has had way too many close calls for you to take anything he does for granted, and when he kisses you like that, like he is afraid of losing you as well, you at least know that he will try his everything to make it back to you in one piece—even if it’s a mangled piece.

“I love you too,” you murmur.

That’s another thing about his kisses: they have the ability to render you speechless.

A slight gust of wind brushes through your hair when the door to the rooftop exit opens, and when you open your eyes, Matt is gone. The living room is lulled in darkness. 10:13 pm. You start counting down the hours, praying once again to all Gods above that he will be okay tonight.

• • •

When Matt comes home a few hours later, he finds you passed out on your shared bed, your limbs tangled in the silk sheets that smell of him and you, and even more you.

He isn’t injured, more ramped up with adrenaline than anything, but he doesn’t want to disturb your peaceful slumber, so he settles down on the couch instead. It doesn’t take long for the night to crash into him, and he collapses. He doesn’t even have it in him to make it back to bed.

You wake up in a cold sweat when your alarm goes off the next morning, but the open bedroom door and Matt’s snoring figure on the couch tell you that he is alive and well. That’s a good sign. If he’s asleep and not injured, you have nothing to worry about.

That is what you think until you see your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Matt wakes to the sound of a loud groan. Suddenly awake and alert, he takes a look around the apartment. Nothing is out of place, except—you’re missing.

He gets up and knocks on the bathroom door. It’s locked. “Sweetheart,” he calls out softly. “You okay in there? Can you open the door?”

“No,” you reply. Your voice is slightly muffled through the wood, but he can still hear your labored breathing and your elevated heartbeat loud and clear.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Because I look hideous.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “I don’t know if you‘ve heard, but I’m blind.”

You groan again, more defeated this time. You seem to plop down on the edge of the bathtub. “Oh, shut up!” you snap. “This is as much a visual as it is a textural issue.”

“As in what? You’ve grown fur and a tail overnight?” Matt can’t help but muse a little. “Because even if you turned into a wolf or a worm, I would still love you. You know that.”

“Matt, this isn’t funny. My acne is escalating.”

Now you sound sad, and he starts feeling bad.

He touches his palm against the door. “But you used those acids last night,” his words land much softer. “I thought they were supposed to help with your acne.”

“Apparently fucking not ‘cause my fertile window is pretty much still wide open, and I think I felt myself ovulate this morning.”

“Oh. Well, it’s just some pimples, sweetheart. It’s not the end of the world.”

Matt realizes too late that he may have chosen his words poorly. You take a deep breath, and for a moment he believes you’re just going to say, but then you shout at him, “EASY OF YOU TO SAY, MISTER I-ALWAYS-HAVE-FLAWLESS-SKIN!”

He winces, dropping his forehead next to his palm. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. What can I do?” he asks. “Get you a paper bag?”

You must have smoke coming out of your ears by now. “Matthew Michael Murdock, I swear to God–”

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’m just trying to cheer you up.” He knocks again. “Can you please let me in? I want to hug you. You sound sad.”

A pregnant pause follows. The silence settles deep into his bones. He can still hear your heartbeat, but he can’t judge what you’re thinking. Then, he hears your bare feet pat against the floor. The lock clicks, and you finally open the door.

“I look like the last fucking unicorn, Matt,” you say. “I’m an endangered species.”

Matt’s arms find your waist, and he pulls you against him. You don’t protest. “You don’t feel like a unicorn. You don’t even have the body of a horse.”

The beginning of a smile that was growing on your face vanishes within seconds, and you stare up at him. He can feel your gaze burning through his skull, a look of utter astonishment on your face. That is how he imagines you, anyway.

“Just a pimple on your forehead,” he adds because he realizes his words are failing to get his point across in all possible ways.

You bury your face in his chest. “Oh, fuck off!”

“What? Pimples are natural and nothing to be ashamed of, especially not when your body is full of hormones that are making your day a living hell.”

“I feel ashamed because I look like a very fucking ugly unicorn!”

“You’re not ugly,” he insists, patiently so, knowing that this is just another side of you that comes out when you’re overwhelmed by the sheer force of your hormonal cycle. “If anything,” Matt says, “you’re a cute unicorn.”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m a pissed-off unicorn who’s ovulating, which makes her sad and horny with a fucking stuffed and inflamed pore on her freaking forehead!”

“I can do something about the horniness, but I can’t make the pimple go away. I’m sorry.”

“UGH!” For a moment, he thinks you’re going to hit his chest with your balled fist, but instead, you tangle your fingers in his shirt.

He rubs his large hand along your spine. “Come here.” Almost naturally, his nose buries itself in your hair. “Do you have those patch thingies you always use when you break out?” he asks.

“I ran out,” you say.

“Should I get them for you on my way home from work?”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he says.

Your smile is unmistakable. “I want the heart-shaped ones.”

“Because they make you feel cute?”

“Yeah.”

Matt chuckles anew. “Okay. I’ll get you those.”

“Thank you.” Sniff.

He tilts his head to the side. “Did you just sniff me?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you shamelessly admit as you suck in a breath again, inhaling his distinctive scent. “You smell good.”

“I didn’t even shower last night. I passed out on the couch.”

“Oh God, that makes it worse!” You shove him away. “I’m getting turned on by the smell of your sweat.”

His giggles turn into laughter. “How about I shower first and then you can sniff me again?” Matt opens his arms as if he just made an offer you couldn’t possibly refuse.

But you can. Because Matt showering and washing the scent of danger off his beautiful skin is the last thing you want, and if your body is satisfied, maybe the storm in your mind will finally calm down, too.

You stop him. “No. Don’t shower.”

“No?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No,” you say. “You said you can help me with my horniness, right? That was part of the deal?”

The brown of his irises gets overtaken by the black of his pupils. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Uh-huh. So, no shower. And I could really use a hand. Or two. And quite possibly your cock, too.”

Matt smirks. “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he purrs. “I’m all yours.”

You’re about to kiss him when you realize, “The unicorn pimple–”

“Don’t care. I've heard somewhere that unicorns need love too.” He cradles your face in his hands. “And I intend to do that shamelessly for the next hour and a half.”

The bathroom door falls closed behind the two of you as he uses his strength to guide you back inside, and a kiss is all it takes for you to shut up and surrender yourself to him completely.

Unicorn pimple be damned!

Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #crack fic #daredevil #self indulgent #no y/n #charlie cox

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moodymisty · 8 months

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Headcanins for Samael's lover being attacked one night? Thankfully Sam is close by when it happens and can react fast, but still.

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3]

Author's Note: Gods help the person who decides to attack the lover of who is effectively a prince of hell... I hope these HCs (and a little tiny drabble at the end) are acceptable, anon :3

Relationships: Samael/Gn!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, Canon typical violence, Minor injury, Is fluff including a demon still called fluff? lol

Samael had been aware for quite awhile that you could be used as a potential point of weakness for him, had any demon with the gusto and power wished to irritate, or even attempt to overtake him.

The main denominator that kept them at bay however, was simply that there wasn't many demons out there that could even consider trying to do such a thing, unless they had a death wish. They might accomplish more by simply throwing themselves at him with a rusty sword.

Though perhaps that borderline cockiness is what makes Samael all the more surprised when one does. He wouldn’t say he underestimated his fellow demons of hell, but more so not expecting such a blatantly suicidal act.

He doesn't tolerate when people steal from him.

Normally, this would've served little more than to annoy him; Had they not decided to use you as bait.

When Samael caught sight of you with your wrinkled, torn clothes- bruises and cuts marring your skin, he heard blood pump in his ears.

If only past him could look at him now; So up in arms over a tiny little human. He's willing to kill and maim, for a member of a species he once scoffed at.

For the moment he doesn't necessarily care if you see him like this, all roars and sharp claws.

You, rightfully so, are skiddish for a good while afterwards. Samael uses it as an excuse to unleash a part of him that has always been exceedingly overprotective, but he’s held back. You rarely leave his wingspan. He's always been been irritated whenever you return to your realm and out of his sight, and this only serves to compound those complaints.

This is also the time you learn that demons, or at the very least Samael, do this weird sort of- you'd call it nesting, but it isn't exactly that. But it's oddly similar.

All your things are in one room that you rarely leave, and Samael is content to keep you all bundled up. Figuratively, though with the amount of silks it could be somewhat taken literal as well.

Long after any sort of minor injuries as healed Samael still hovers, and you actually have to try and push back a bit in order to get some breathing room.

You try to do so gently, as much as you enjoy him being so, overtly affectionate in his own odd way, you'd like if you didn't have a massive demon attached to you 24/7.

And you mean attached. He likes to play with your hair, his massive clawed fingers toying with it while you are almost totally obscured by his wingspan.

He seems almost, disappointed however when you want to move away a tad. You feel a little bad and let him hold onto you tightly for just a bit longer.

It maybe be a bit out of character for him, but you can't say it's bad, that's for sure.

"Samael," You groan, attempting to reach for the edge of the bed. Your fingers just can't reach, unable to get purchase and slipping away when you're pulled deeper into the demon's warm grip.

"Let me go, I need to get up."

You don't know what the sound is actually called, but it's this odd mix between a rumble and a purr, that Samael lets out when his chin brushes against your head.

"Last I checked, you have no where you need to leave to." His wings stretch outward for a moment, rolling his shoulders before they return to folding close to his body. As much as you might've enjoyed it at first, your skin is boiling; Samael radiates so much heat it's almost stifling. It doesn't help that his general disposition right now is stifling as well.

You feel his one finger brush over a healing cut against your cheek. He's quite gentle considering everything, even when your cheek shifts as you purse your lips.

"Samael, I am fine. That was days ago. Can I please at least get some fresh air?"

You can hear a grumble in his throat, far less pleased than whatever sound he'd made earlier. But you're looking up at him pleading, trying to wiggle away to get just a smidge of breathing room. He begrudgingly lets you sit upright, loosening his grip. You repay him by cupping his massive face in your hands and giving him a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"I'm fine, promise. I wouldn't lie if I wasn't." You wouldn't be able to lie to him, but he finds a pleasantry in your uniquely human honesty.

"You are remarkably persuasive," He jokes, loosening his grip more. You shift just far enough away to stretch your arms upward and yawn.

"What a compliment, coming from you~"

#Samael x reader #darksiders Samael x reader #darksiders x reader #Darksiders/Reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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iliveformanyfictionalcharacters · 2 years

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Could you please write where the Tbirds comforts Putzie like he’s being bullied and can it be a full chapters?

Another request: Hi, I’m wondering if you write fanfics, but could you please write where the T-Birds protect Putzie from the bullies? And can you also write where Danny is being overprotective of Putzie? No slash please.

The Sting In His Heart 1/2

I would love to! I haven't written full chapters yet so i'm thinking 2 parts.

Word Count: 1182

Summary: Putzie’s been bullied his entire life, it’s been getting worse and worse with every school year. But now that he has four overprotective friends on his side, whats going to happen to those bullies?

Warnings: Fighting, Cussing, Comfort from friends

When Putzie was a child he was always very small for his age. Not by much but enough to be singled out by the bigger kids.

When he thinks back on it, those kids never were older and just barely above his own height, but Putzie always thought of them as bigger. His child mind probably categorized them as the untouchable kids, kids who inserted themselves at the top at a young age and now couldn’t be pushed off.

He knows they don't remember, he knows that most of them had moved away and never given him a second thought. Let alone felt guilty about what they had done.

But he remembers.

He remembers too well what started as somewhat harmless teasing in kindergarten morphed into borderline assault by the fourth grade.

His first day of kindergarten wasn't bad, in fact the first few months were pretty good. He kicked and screamed at first, not wanting to wake up so early in the mornings, and huffed his way through counting and finger painting. All the time counting down to nap time. But he can say with absolute certainty that he would rather those tired days of ABC’S to what was to come.

This six year old boy named Jeremy was at the top of the class by the second day, not in academics but popularity. You wouldn't think that populatly would be such a big deal in kindergarten, and it certainly was not as big as half of the children made it out to be.

Putzie sat his blue crayon on the table, the teacher had given them all a coloring page to do while she worked on something. He admired his handiwork of the light blue scribble sky and went for the green next. The grass was the last thing blank.

Putzie sat at the same table as Jeremy, not that he’d really paid much attention to him. Maybe that's why Jeremy made it his childhood mission to make Putzie’s miserable.

The green crayon in his hand was slapped out and snatched as soon as he lifted it off the table. He withdrew his hand in shock and rubbed the stinging skin, an obnoxious giggle rang out into his and close by classmates ears.

“Haha! That really hurt you? Wow-” Another fit of obnoxious giggling though now joined in with a few others around them. Jeremy's voice was scratchy, like the rough side of a sponge rubbing on cast iron. Maybe he was sick?

Putzie backed away slightly at this thought.

“Backing away already? I can't believe it, probably best though. You're too little to really fight you’ll get crushed.” He ended his sentence with an evil grin no six year old should do, being followed by the whole table laughing.

At him.

At Putzie.

And on a normal day he would’ve ignore it, but it was just not his day. He woke up late and his mom yelled at him, he fell at lunch, these kids started laughing at him and now the teacher was picking up their papers without him having finished.

At the age of six he couldn't articulate his emotions well, and thankfully his teacher understood this. Instead of yelling at him or sending him to the nurses office, she talked with him. At recess, they talked about what happened.

And in that moment Putzie unknowingly signed his death warrant.

“Yes, it was Jeremy.”

“I'll have a talk with him later, now go on and play.” She smiled at him.

For the next five years Jeremy and his evergrowing gang tortured him nonstop every day in school.

Once in first grade he spent the entire day being tripped by several people, every five seconds he found himself face planted onto the floor. And in second when they purposely got in him trouble for an entire week before the teacher found out and punished Jeremy.

Little did the teacher know she was definitely not helping Putzie.

And in forth when they just straight up attacked him. It was the first time they, or anyone, had laid their hands on him.

Putzie had managed to avoid the little, or big, gang all day. No tripping, no trouble and no tears.

Until the walk home. Putzie’s walk home from school was only about ten minutes which is why his mother had no problem letting him walk home alone while she was at work.

Nothing had ever bothered him on his way home, sometimes he’d even see a bird or another animal. He’d spend 15 minutes trying to catch it before realizing he better get home before his mother.

This time another boy started walking behind him, definitely not older than him, but Putzie didn't recognise him. Besides, he was walking about 10 feet behind him.

Putzie knew what was going to happen though, well he thought he did. He thought that Jeremy or his gang would corner him again and call him some names like usual.

What he did not anticipate was being shoved to the ground suddenly by the boy behind him and then feeling a foot connect to his stomach.

Over and over.

It was Jeremy, of course.

But he had never gone this far before.

Putzie never thought it would go this far, but with each nauseating kick to the stomach he was reminded that this was real. He rolled over just enough to get kicked in the ribs.

Then it stopped. The sound of running footsteps filled his ears before his blurry vision got the best of him and everything went black.

Now, in highschool, the physical aspect of bullying has died down. Mostly due to him joining a gang, ‘The T Birds’ with his best friend Danny. As well as Kenickie, Doddy and Sonny. But that didn't mean the verbal aspect had gone away, it was just done in secret now.

The mental waredown he suffered over all of these years has caused him to keep it to himself, no one needed to know. Because according to him it didn't matter.

No matter how hard he tried, years of being called worthless wore him down so much he genuinely believed it sometimes.

He never intended to let the guys know the extent of their words, until the first day senior year someone grew balls enough to come say something to him in public. The rest of his friends were gone.

Apparently ‘Robert’ felt comfortable enough that the last year of school should be enjoyed.

“Hey! Where those friends of yours, finally ditch ya?” His words were cruel but Putzie just kept his head down, like always. “They finally realize how worthless you are-Hey. Hey! Look at me! Listen to me!” He shouted.

Still he kept his head pointed towards the grass.

“What the fuck is worng with you? Listen to me when I'm talking!” Suddenly there was rusling and quick gasps, Putzie looked up just in time to get a right hook to his jaw. His gead flew to the side and his hand went up to his face.

Everyone was quiet, he didn't know why they weren't laughing like normal until he heard a familiar voice through the tears and stinging.

“What the fuck.”

#Grease #putzie #comfort from friends #i really enjoyed this #ill update as soon as possible

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parameddic · 3 months

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@contradictivs from x:

There was a long second that Ryder could not help but think that it should be obvious that he knew it wasn't normal. Well. It was normal for him. Something that had been happening since he was a little kid and, thankfully, seemed to lessen as he got older. Though, to be completely honest, he knew that it was because of the fact that he was older. He could take care of himself. His father had no problem with leaving Ryder to his own devices. Borderline abuse, the 'tough love' approach, turned into more neglect than anything else. Ryder found himself preferring the later over the former. "I know that." He was old enough that he could simply cut contact -- And that was what he was slowly working toward. You would think that the act would be much simpler given the fact that his father seemed to avoid him to begin with. "It's just... Not as simple as that."

One of the many things TK had going for him was that he loved his family with his whole heart, held onto them with both hands, and had always -- if he squinted, and moved things around a bit, and sort of meddled a bit (and he always did) -- felt loved back. There were lines in the sand, sure (things like Alex cheating on him) which made it easier to know what was concretely not OK, what he absolutely couldn't put up with: but for these purposes that wasn't really a strength. Not a bad person, but the idea that someone could just -- deal with that and love them anyway?

TK knew that it happened, he had seen the results of it on the job more often than he cared for, he knew how important it was to offer the unconditional support anyway. But he didn't get it. And until he thought about it a little more deeply than just his gut reaction, he probably wasn't going to.

And he wasn't going to ask the question of someone he was trying to support, 'cause it wasn't Ryder's job to tell him, but this was definitely gonna be a conversation he had with his family, later. A gap in knowledge he was suddenly very conscious of. In the meantime: "Well," he settled on, "if and when you do wanna do it, you don't have to do it alone. I'll support you." Whatever that meant. Help moving his stuff, help making a report, help changing his name if that's what he wanted. TK could be there.

#ic #contradictivs #shrug emoji #abuse mention tw #child abuse mention tw #this might be giving them a bit more of a pre-estab then we have discussed and i'm happy to change it but i don't think it is #a very pre-established relationship i would just assume kdjfslkj they're like. mild acquaintances on good terms maybe #if you need me to change it please poke me! love u

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frogtanii · 4 years

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embarrassed ft. matsukawa issei

wc. 2.7k (???)

warnings. SMUT, not proofread lol, mutual pining (??), friends to lovers (???), cunnilingus lmao, no dom/sub dynamics, well actually dom&sub issei if you squint rlly hard hehe, kinda cute, embarrassed issei <3, also one (1) WAP reference

an. it’s 2:30 am and i have no idea why i wrote this and who for???? i got the idea from a 🦋😳🙈✨ audio and was immediately inspired idk, sorry if it’s bad i lichrally have no idea since i didn’t read it after it was done :p

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

it wasn’t like matsukawa issei to be embarrassed.

he was handsome, intelligent, and funny, not to mention he never left women wanting after a night with him.

issei was the entire package and he knew it.

beyond superficiality though, he was happy with his life. he had a great group of friends, a nice apartment all to himself and a completely normal job.

yes, being a funeral home employee wasn’t the most glamorous career a person could have but he was happy. besides, it never deterred him from getting a warm body to sleep with which was a win in his book.

all in all? his life was great!

so why did he have to go and screw it all up?

issei blames makki and the dumb flyer for the reason his life went to shit. (maybe he’s being a little dramatic, but let him have his oikawa moment.)

he was minding his own business when his best friend (recently turned enemy) burst through his apartment door with a piece of paper in his hand and a fire in his eyes.

“dude, look at this!” issei rolled his eyes, putting down his casket catalogue and turning to meet takahiro’s gaze.

“why hello to you too. remind me why i gave you a key again?”

“because you love me and because i bring shit like this to you. look!” with another long and suspiciously tooru-like sigh, issei took the crumpled paper from makki and immediately stopped in his tracks.

“makki... what the fuck is this?”

written in large pink letters and a flowery, borderline illegible font was the name, coffee and cunnilingus. upon further inspection and careful reading, it revealed itself to be a little cafe opening up about 10 minutes from issei’s apartment complex who were looking to hire “young, attractive men who are proficient at eating pussy.”

issei could feel his eyes narrow and his mouth drop open in shock as he repeated his question. “the fuck is this?”

makki shook his head excitedly, tapping to another portion of the flyer that matsukawa had not yet read. “no, no dude, just look at how much they’re paying per hour.” issei begrudgingly obliged but the minute his eyes touched the (Massive™) number, he felt a little faint.

it was a lot of money. more than the funeral home was paying, that’s for sure. with that kind of money he could move out of this suddenly dingy seeming apartment and into a nice flat in the city were he’d always wanted to live. maybe he could buy himself a nice watch or even a high-end suit to replace the one from his highschool graduation (aka the only suit he owns). with that kind of money, he could erase his student debt 3 years ahead of schedule and get his mom into a nicer place.

it was these thoughts that clouded issei’s head as he found himself standing in front of a cute looking building, matching the address on the flyer. i’ll only be working part time, he thought as he pushed the door open to reveal an equally impressing interior with curtained booths and a wide variety of coffee on the menu. i’m only doing it for extra money, he thought as he shook the owner’s hand after he finished his successful interview. no one can ever know, he thought as he dressed himself in the uniform on his first day.

thus began issei’s super secret side hustle where he ate women out for cash.

sounds worse when you say it outright but it was just working. he was good at it, the women liked him, and he was making BANK. still, there were challenges. some women refused to bathe before coming and he would have to send them to the restroom to freshen up which absolutely ruined his chances for a good tip. some women would become heavily infatuated with him, believing that they were in some sort of forbidden romance. he learned to turn them down quick and easy to avoid conflict in the workplace which furthered his space as a boss favorite. but his hardest challenge by far was meeting you.

you were one of hanamaki’s friends, having met him at one of his brief stints in retail on his search for a job. he had gotten fired but you both stayed in touch after he left, becoming really close, really fast.

issei had met you first when takahiro had invited you to the biweekly seijoh third-years movie night. at first, he had been pissed as an “outsider” had never been invited before and he was worried you’d ruin the vibe, especially since it was the first time in months that oikawa would be able to join them. makki vouched for you through and through and the other boys were okay with it so you were in. the second he met you, all his fears of awkwardness and discomfort faded away.

you were great.

you were hilarious, pretty, and could keep up with makki’s harsh jokes, tooru’s diva attitude, iwa’s tendency to hit (hard), and issei’s original disdain. by the end of the night, he had completely forgotten why he didn’t want you there in the first place.

from then on, you were a staple in their little friend group. you were added to the groupchat where you balanced memes with spouts of deep wisdom and you were ever so reliable, always there if any of them needed it.

yeah, you were great. that’s where the problems started.

issei’s feelings for you quickly went from platonic to romantic, faster than you can say godzilla. he hadn’t even recognized that he was falling for you until it was way too late. normally, he wouldn’t have a problem confessing to you but because of his newly found ...occupation, he was too nervous. how would you take it that he was basically a glorified prostitute? ok, that wasn’t exactly what he did but still! you’d probably find him disgusting and horrible and leave the friend group forever. then he’d have to deal with oikawa’s senseless whining and makki’s subtle digs, blaming him for your departure. yeah, he wasn’t going to put himself through that so he decided to keep his mouth shut.

too bad he didn’t have any control over makki’s.

you and takahiro had been on a little friend-date at mcdonald’s after you’d had a long and frustrating shift. you just wanted to vent, expressing your general hate for your job and desperate need for stress relief.

that’s when makki opened his (big, stupid) mouth and suggested that you visit a little place called coffee and cunnilingus. you nearly choked on your fries at the title before quickly pressing him for details. thankfully, he had the decency not to expose that issei worked there but he had not done a good enough job convincing you not to go there. not that it would’ve mattered. your curiosity was peaked and your libido was high so why not try out the weird cafe where you let a complete stranger stick his tongue inside you?

it was settled. you were going to go and you were going to get eaten out and you were going to like it!

or at least that is what you repeated in your head as you walked to the address on your phone before taking a deep breath and walking inside.

“hello, welcome to coffee and cunnilingus, how might i pleasure you this afterno— yn?” issei’s eyes widened as they met your equally bewildered ones, the both of you staring at each other in shock.

“matsukawa-san, is everything alright?” a large hand rested on issei’s shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts and forcing him to break (horrified) eye contact with you and move it onto his boss who was now looking down on him menacingly.

“y-yes sir, everything is fine!” he squeaked out, hating the way his voice cracked on his first syllable. his boss looked at him suspiciously but thankfully didn’t press.

“well, since nothing is wrong, take this beautiful young woman to a booth where you will assist her!” the hand resting on issei’s shoulder slowly squeezed, making him wince in pain. the pain was only an afterthought though to the larger implication of his boss’ words. he’s going to assist you. assist as in pleasure. pleasure as in eat you out.

holy shit, you were going to pass out.

apparently, issei had the same thought process as you, his face whitening like a sheet. “m-me? but sir i-“

“do your job matsukawa-san!” his boss cut him off with a forced smile. all issei could do was nod and silently lead you off to a closed booth near the back or lose his job. you stayed close behind him but remained quiet, absolutely terrified of breaking the silence and ruining the bubble you had created.

you finally reached the booth in question. issei gently opened the curtain and motioned for you to get it, to which you obliged and he followed just behind.

the moment the curtain closed, you were enveloped in an awkward silence and tense atmosphere, neither of you speaking or looking at one another for fear of one of you running out. after what felt like hours, you opened your mouth to speak, not realizing issei had thought the same thing.

“so-“

“i-“

you finally made eye contact with him and burst into the laughter, the tension quickly broken. it took a full minute or two for the both of you to calm down, the absurdity of the entire situation finally catching up with you.

“you first,” issei said, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes while fixing you with an intense gaze swirled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place but it made butterflies bubble up in your stomach. you quickly turned your gaze to the comfortable seat beneath you, your fingers playing with the red stitching while you thought of what you had wanted to say.

“are you any good?” your hand flew up to cover your mouth as your cheeks filled with heat, the embarrassment of your words catching up to you. you hadn’t meant to say that but when you opened your mouth to apologize, you were stopped in your tracks by the lovely sound of issei’s full-bodied laughter filling the tiny booth.

you had heard it just moments earlier but without the sound of your own giggles drowning it out, you couldn’t help but think that he sounded beautiful. you basked in the sound as it slowly trailed off back into silence. now it was you doing the staring making issei look off with a red face and a heart threatening to pound out of his chest.

“y-yeah i’m pretty good. you want to try? me, i mean?” his words nearly leave you gasping, your brain working overtime to try and comprehend what he was saying to you.

“only if y-you want to? what do you want issei?” you whispered, suddenly unable to find your voice. you wanted this to be okay for him too; you didn’t want him to be uncomfortable even though you wanted him more than you could verbally express. despite the embarrassment and fear of rejection lingering under your skin, you stared at him, awaiting his answer. a tiny minuscule nod came from him and you internally shook your head. you needed to hear him.

“i need you to say it, issei.” your words, while quiet, were firm and issei felt himself hardening in his uniform slacks. he swallowed in his increasingly drying mouth before opening his mouth to respond.

“i want to eat your pussy. can i?”

shit.

your own voice was stolen by his words and all you could give him was a nod before he was on you.

issei didn’t waste any time falling to his knees, pulling your panties down, and hiking your skirt up to your stomach, revealing your glistening folds to his hungering eyes.

“fuck, you’re so wet,” is all the warning you get before he’s licking a long stripe up you from entrance to clit before he’s sucking the hard, sensitive nub into his mouth. your eyes immediately rolled back into your head, your hips instinctively bucking up into his mouth while a gasped moan of issei left your lips.

if he could bottle your moans and use them whenever he pleased, he would, the sound sending another pulse of arousal to his already hard cock. he was tempted to reach down and pull himself out of his trousers but he denied himself. this was about you; you and your wet ass pussy.

issei continued his ministrations on your clit, circling it with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth while his hand was ready to get busy. it crept up your thigh, sending shivers down your spine until it reached your sopping entrance, two of his fingers teasing the slit before delving in to the third knuckle.

the moan you let out is borderline animalistic as your body sends another wave of slick pulsing out over his hand. he groaned into your cunt at your tightness, his mind only imagining him deep within you while you squeeze him for all he’s got.

the amount of slick you produced made it easy for him to add a third finger, thrusting them in and out while also crooking them upwards in search for your special spot that would have you seeing stars. it took him a little prodding but he knew he found it when your back arched, your hand came down into his hair, and you whimpered out a string of curses.

“that’s it baby, cmon, you’re doing so well, wanna see you come apart for me,” he all but growled against your clit before delving back in with a higher intensity, his desperation for you to come winning out his desire to tease you and drag this out as long as possible.

with his incessant pressure on your g-spot and his lips suctioned around your clit, it wasn’t long before he got what he wanted.

“isseiisseiisseiissei, i’m coming, i’m coming-oh fuck!” you screamed as you clenched and gushed all over his fingers, your entire body caving in with the intensity of your orgasm. his fingers were practically forced from your spasming cunt but they quickly found a place rubbing your nub side to side as fast as possible. the overwhelming urge to pee came over you and you shook your head, trying to push his hand away.

“no, no, give it to me, i know you can,” issei groaned, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy. the pleasure he was giving came to a head at his words and you felt a clear liquid escape from your tired, overstimulated cunt, your mouth opening in a silent moan before collapsing back on the seat.

the sight proved to be too much for issei as he felt his body tense, his own orgasm washing over him as he emptied himself into his boxers. he fell back onto the ground, in shock of himself coming entirely untouched. he’d never done it before but of course it was you that would bring it out of him. a smile spread across his face at the thought, his head tilting back as he laughed, catching the attention of your worn body.

“what’re y’laughing at?” you slurred, cringing a little at how fucked out you sounded but issei didn’t seem to mind, his face glowing while covered in your slick and cum.

“nothing, nothing, but uh, i have a question.” you felt your heart leap to your chest, your mind already racing with the possibilities. he’s going to say this was a mistake, that we’re just better off as friends. oh god, what if he says i stunk? or the worst pussy he’s ever had? or what if—

“want to go and get a coffee?” he asked, the smile still plastered on his face but with an uncharacteristic hint of shyness. the butterflies were back in your stomach as you shyly nodded before allowing him to help clean you up and standing, not missing how he slipped your lacy underwear deep into one of his pockets.

issei’s hand found its way into yours as he said goodbye to his coworkers and boss before leading you out of the cafe, watching you tell an animated retelling of the bullshit that occurred at your job with a warm grin on his face and pink cheeks.

it might not be like matsukawa issei to be embarrassed but if it resulted in getting you by his side? he would do it again and again.

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years

Text

Why do you always do that?

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

D- A Neil Perry x childhood friend!reader where she doesn’t like dating because of a past toxic/abusive relationship and Neil gets frustrated because she flirts with him but doesn’t want to go past that. (angst with a happy ending)

- Growing up, you and Neil were always thrown together. Your parents were friends and always went to the same parties which meant that you and little Neil were left to entertain yourselves.

- It was inevitable that the two of you would become friends, maybe even inevitable; at least in your parents eyes, that the two of you would wind up “together”. It could be argued that your; borderline, forced friendship was meant to condition the two of you into said relationship but you’d avoided the subject as best as you could; no matter how much your parents “delicately” hinted at the idea.

- Regardless, you and Neil remained good friends, even as he was sent to all boys academies and you to the public schools in your area. No matter how much time you spent apart, you reunited during summers feeling just as comfortable in each other’s presences as before.

- But it was during your time spent apart that you found yourself going out with your first boyfriend: the boyfriend that would ruin your view of relationships and men in general.

- Toxic. That was the best way to describe him. Toxic, cruel, and oftentimes abusive in one way or another: the worst thing that could happen to a young and impressionable you. You were dating on and off again and he was cheating on you on and off again and the entire relationship was a mess.

- Thankfully, the Perry’s convinced your parents to send you to “a proper boarding school” the following school year after your breakup. Of course, this boarding school was Welton and you and Neil would be reunited for good.

- Neil could tell that something was wrong when he first saw you that summer. He knew you were dating someone and the two of you broke up so he just assumed it was the usual crushing blow of young love so he dedicated himself to getting you out of your slump.

- By the time the new school year came around, he’d managed to cheer you up but the remnants of your past relationships damage were still there.

- The inevitable happened, you fell for Neil; or at least realized your true feelings for him, but your fear of getting hurt again stopped you from doing anything serious about it. So, while it may have been selfish, you started flirting with him and purposefully keeping things between you ambiguous.

- You and Neil had always teased each other but this behavior seemed …different. You’d never really “flirted” with him before but Neil had just chalked it up to the time you’d spent apart from each other and the dating experience you had that he lacked. Maybe that was normal?

- It definitely threw him off, but he was in love with you so he wasn’t going to complain. He thought he was finally getting somewhere with you and it felt great to see you show interest in him, and to flirt with you and have you flirt with him.

- He always got giddy and shy whenever you complimented him or when he felt you touch him. He acknowledged that he was wrapped around your finger but at the same time, he didn’t care. He thought he and you were gonna get together soon, so he let it happen happily. And you know what? At the time, it was fun.

- The thing is, it stopped being fun when you refused to let anything more happen.

- At first, he thought that maybe he had misread the situation and that you were just joking. Then, he thought that maybe you were just taking things slow and you were unsure. And then, he thought that maybe, in contrast to your flirtation, you didn’t actually have the guts to ask him out yourself.

- But then you avoided the topic, dodged his attempts to ask you out, tried to pretend like your words or everything the two of you did together was platonic when he knew that you both knew it wasn’t. You’d told him that you guys could just have fun, “couldn’t you?”, and out of a need to have you in some way, he’d initially agreed.

- In the midst of the school year, you’d confessed just how bad your old relationship had gotten and he’d comforted you. It was purely platonic of course, he wanted nothing for doing so and it felt so good to not have someone expect anything from you for their kindness. It set him apart from everyone else but you’d known that he was different all along, hadn't you?

- Your confession had also given him some answers about your behavior. The root of your flirting, the looks, the affection, the almost kisses: it all had to do with that jerk and he hated him for hurting you enough to mess with you head.

- He gave you time but only so much time could be given when you tested him so much.

- Maybe the breaking point was another almost kiss, maybe it was an actual kiss and your subsequent refusal to acknowledge that it had happened. Either way, after that, he couldn’t take it anymore and had to confront you.

- You were both sitting beside each other in the cave when he’d leaned in to try to kiss you. You’d stood up and avoided the action, pretending as though you didn’t notice and he sighed.

“Why do you always do that?” He asked and you’d asked what he meant before he told you that you ‘know what’.

“Because we shouldn't, Neil.” You’d sighed and he’d scoffed.

“Bullshit! You like me, I like you so why not be together?”

“I don’t like you Neil. We’re friends who mess around with each other.”

“We’re not just friends and you know it,” He insisted. “Why don’t we just give it a chance?”

“Neil, if you want to kiss me then fine, we can kiss. I just don’t think a relationship is necessary.” You laugh, trying to lighten the mood as you sit down beside him, giving him a smile.

“Stop pretending that everything’s okay.” He says softly but seriously and your smile falter even though you continue to press on.

“Everything is okay, Neil.” You put your hand on his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“No, it’s not, and it’s because of him. I know it.” Your grin drops and you stand up, not wanting to deal with that conversation, feeling cornered, vulnerable. This time, he presses on.

“It’s okay y/n, I understand. But you can’t dwell on that and make yourself miserable for the rest of your life because you don’t want another him. You know I’d never do that to you,” He tells you and you nod, telling him that you know. “So why not give it a try?”

“Neil, I,” You falter. “I love you Neil, I mean, I really do …but I also loved him and I don’t want to find out that there’s something bad inside of you like there was inside him. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“I know.” You say instinctively.

“I mean it.” He assures you and this time when you say that ‘you know’, you really mean it, because he’s looking at you like that and it’s so different from anyway anyone else has ever looked at you before.

#neil perry imagine #neil perry imagines #neil perry headcanon #neil perry headcanons #neil perry x reader #dead poets society imagine #dead poets society headcanon #dead poets society headcanons #dead poets society imagines #80s movie imagine #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon

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r6shippingdelivery · 3 years

Text

A small one-shot I wrote for @ojiisan01! The Spetsnaz are on vacation from Rainbow and go back to their families. Kapkan is helping his cousin with his flower shop and Tachanka keeps coming to spend time with him.

As always, you can read it on AO3 too!

Free time, Maxim mused, was both a blessing and a curse. After being in the military for so many years, he was more than used to the unpredictable flow of work and down time that lifestyle entailed. What he wasn’t used to was having nothing to do.

When Harry informed the Spetsnaz of their impending month-long vacation, Maxim immediately booked a ticket back to Russia. It had been so long since the last time he went home for a visit, and he missed seeing his family. However, just because he was on vacation didn’t mean the rest of the family was too. His brothers had work, his niece and nephew had to go to school, and Maxim remained alone in the old apartment for most of the day. Boredom was inevitable, and after a few days Maxim was already sick of spending his days doing nothing.

He was antsy and missed his homely little cabin in the woods, or at least the freedom that living in the middle of nowhere afforded. Maxim was already thinking of how to leave a few days early without upsetting the kids too much, when the message arrived: cousin Boris broke his knee.

Apparently a bicycle accident smashed his knee badly enough to need surgery, and he was looking for someone to baby-sit his dog and take care of his business while he was in the hospital. It was all they talked about during dinner: poor cousin Boris, all alone in St. Petersburg. And then Maxim’s sister-in-law suggested that he could go help Boris, and everyone agreed it was a fantastic idea and started acting like it was already decided.

While Maxim was a little irritated they all just assumed he would do it, he knew it was a good idea. After all, hadn’t he been complaining about having nothing to do? And it would be nice to see his cousin again, they used to be really close as kids before Boris’ family moved out. But it still stung that nobody asked his opinion before giving him the task.

_ _

St. Petersburg was exactly like any other big city Maxim had seen: noisy, full of people, and severely lacking fresh air. It was a curious sensation of never being truly alone, yet feeling strangely isolated.

Maxim enjoyed the opportunity to catch up with his cousin, even though it was awkward at first, but soon they found common ground in their love of the outdoors. It certainly explained why his cousin’s apartment was full of plants, to the point it resembled an interior garden, almost. Or his choice of business that Maxim was supposed to oversee for a few days: a flower shop.

Despite his vast experience fending off for himself in the wilderness, Maxim didn’t know the first thing about flowers. Perhaps growing plants wouldn’t have been so daunting, Maxim was used to hard physical work and getting dirty. However, arranging flowers in bouquets, or worse, giving advice on which paired best together? He was utterly lost.

Cousin Boris didn’t seem too concerned, though, assuring Maxim that most customers already knew what they wanted or chose arrangements from a catalogue. In fact, he joked that the hardest part of Maxim’s new duties would be keeping Zoya, his little dog, out of the couch and bed. Still, he took time to show Maxim around the flower shop and how things worked, the basics, so he wouldn’t be completely clueless. And the next day he bid them goodbye, both to Maxim and Zoya, before heading to the hospital and leaving Maxim in charge of the shop.

It was strange, as if he was playing a role in an elaborate play, wholly unlike Maxim’s life. But it was bearable. For the most part, clients were sparse, allowing him time to get familiar with the new environment. And yet through the whole first day he was nervous, needing to remind himself why he was here: because his brother’s wife thought it was a grand idea. And because family helped each other, and Maxim literally had all the time in the world for the next few weeks.

That night, lying on an unfamiliar bed, he realised how accurate Boris was when he said keeping the dog out of the bed would be the hardest job. She was relentless, jumping on his legs despite Maxim’s scoldings, yipping piteously at him. He was almost asleep when he felt the mattress dip again and a small weight settled next to his feet. Sighing, Maxim decided he was tired of kicking her out uselessly, and what Boris didn’t see would hurt no one.

The people seeking the services of the flower shop were more varied than Maxim first imagined. Lovers wanting to impress their sweethearts, gifts for mothers, presents for bosses about to retire, funerals, brides-to-be seeking their favorite blossoms… And even his comrade, Sasha. Alexsandr fucking Senaviev.

Maxim knew that Sasha’s family -ex wife and kids, as well as his sister- lived here, and that he used every chance he had to visit his children. With the city being as big as it was, the chance of stumbling into each other like this was astronomically slim, yet here they were.

At first Maxim didn’t realise who the customer was. He heard the door and barely directed a quick glance at it, knowing that people liked to look around the shop before coming to the counter. It was only when he heard a loud “Maxim, is that you?” that he looked at the person in question. Sasha looked different in civilian clothes. Maxim had almost expected him to wear a balaclava here too, and he couldn’t help but stare in disbelief at him.

“What are you doing here?” It sounded vaguely accusing and suspicious, yet Alexsandr laughed at Maxim’s borderline rude attitude and came to lean against the counter, as if he was in the bar rather than a flower shop.

“Is this your retirement plan, a secret life outside of Rainbow?” Alexsandr was grinning at him in that way that made Maxim feel like he was important and noticed. It was an absurd notion, and he hated feeling foolish. “Maxim the flower boy, who would have thought.”

“Are you going to buy something or not?” Maxim crossed his arms, annoyed.

“I saw you have this small potted cactus, and I think my little girl will love it.”

That was… reasonable. It could even be called cute, he supposed. Maxim nodded briskly and went to fetch a handful of the cacti. In the end Sasha picked the one with the shortest and softest spikes. So his ex wouldn’t yell at him for giving something that could hurt their daughter, he said.

“This is not my shop,” Maxim confessed while Sasha paid. “I’m helping my cousin for a few days, that’s it.”

He didn’t want any stupid rumours to spread, or worse, Alexsandr calling him flower boy again.

Maxim thought it was a one off thing. A coincidence, an isolated curiosity. He should have known better.

Alexsandr became a regular visitor at the shop, but not a customer. No, he was there to drive Maxim up the walls with his closeness and easy banter and acting like Maxim was an integral part of his life even now. Every day, he would invite Maxim out for lunch, or if he declined, to a few drinks after the flower shop closed. He stayed by Maxim’s side for the greater part of the day, and it was both familiar and comforting as it was exasperating. That mix of emotions was normal when it came to Sasha. He was an expert on eliciting fondness and irritation in Maxim’s heart, as well as something more dangerous that he avoided thinking about.

At his temporary home, when Zoya was the only witness to his wistful thoughts, Maxim allowed himself the truth of why Sasha’s presence during the day made him feel so lonely at night. He hated how he started to anticipate Sasha’s visits to the shop, how his heart would skip a beat when his comrade smiled at him in greeting. Maxim refused to set himself up for heartbreak, it was a stupid thing to do.

Thankfully, his interactions with Sasha didn’t carry any awkwardness despite Maxim’s private moments of weakness. Still, some conversations were harder to go through than others.

“What flowers would you use to tell someone you like them?”

He regarded Sasha as if he’d grown a second head, but the man was busy inspecting the daisies and didn’t notice.

“The flowers alone are usually clue enough,” Maxim deadpanned, because really, people didn’t go around giving flowers to others regularly, did they?

“Yes, but in the movies they use this or that flower because it means ‘I love you’, or some other contrived message. Has nobody asked you about that before?”

“What movies do you watch?” Maxim chuckled, because that sounded like old-fashioned romance movies, and picturing Sasha watching those was hilarious. Alexsandr remained serious, discounting the amused glint in his eyes, so Maxim shrugged. “No fucking idea. Red roses are always popular. But I would get a bouquet of whatever is your girl’s favorite flower.”

“And if I don’t know that?” Sasha appeared pensive, and Maxim swallowed the bitterness he felt when considering who might be the person motivating these questions. Lera deserved the best, and he had no right to feel jealous.

“Then picking flowers in her favorite color might be a good idea? I don’t know! I know shit about romantic advice, maybe the roses are popular for a reason.” Maxim shrugged, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.

To his relief, Sasha nodded as he got closer to the counter. “I like red. Red is a good, strong color.”

“Of course you think that, Mr. Red Army family.” Maxim couldn’t help teasing him, because Sasha did it to him all the time and payback was only fair.

“Red is a color suited for hunters too! Or do you prefer green?” Sasha literally poked him, and Maxim swatted his hand away, fighting to hide a smile.

“I don’t care about colors.” His declaration was met with a scoff of incredulity, and Maxim suddenly felt the urge to defend his position. “Colors are all a distraction, a way to either blend in the surroundings or give yourself away. Especially when it snows. When white covers everything you can see, colors are either meaningless or your death sentence.”

Alexsandr grunted. “I think red would make a nice contrast on white, like blood on the snow.”

He didn’t disagree. It was a vivid image, one that was alluring not despite its sense of danger, but because of it.

A couple of days later, cousin Boris was back home, and Maxim knew his time as a florist was ending. It wasn’t the worst experience ever, but it was also something he couldn’t see himself doing regularly.

He notified Sasha of the impending end to their new routine, and how he wasn’t sure what he would do now. They still had another week of free time, and Maxim didn’t think he would go back to Kovrov, but he wasn’t sure if he’d stay in the city either, or if Boris would even welcome him for a longer stay. Maxim wanted to say Sasha looked disappointed at the news, but it was a momentary thing.

Alexsandr promised him that tomorrow, his last day as a flower boy, they’d celebrate by going drinking. Getting properly wasted as a way of celebrating was a time honored tradition between them, something they used to do after every successful mission.

There was a strange energy between them for the entire day, which Maxim blamed on Sasha, who was acting weird. The man was usually calm and at ease, but today he kept glancing at his phone, checking the time, and Maxim didn’t believe for a second he was that eager to go drinking. He even disappeared for a time while Maxim closed the shop, and Maxim started considering that maybe something happened and they should postpone their little outing.

However, before he was even done locking the front door, Sasha was back, acting all suspicious and holding something behind his back. Maxim frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

As all answer, Alexsandr smirked and revealed what he’d been hiding. A bouquet where most of the flowers were white, except for a few striking touches of red. Maxim stared at it, stunned, and not realising it was meant for him until Sasha gestured at him twice to grab it. Up close, he could identify white camellias and red chrysanthemums, along with the sweet fragrance of jasmine. The yellow ones he thought were irises, but he wasn’t sure. It was lovely, and Maxim still couldn’t believe that Sasha actually meant this gesture. Surely not in the same way Maxim wanted to interpret it.

“What’s the meaning of this?” He scowled, eyeing the bouquet with unveiled suspicion.

“I thought the flowers alone would be clue enough,” Sasha said, and he could hit him for using Maxim’s own words against him in such a way.

He wondered if there was any meaning to the flowers, if there was a subtle message he was missing. After the conversation from a few days ago, he wouldn’t put it past Sasha to do something like that just to mess with him. “If this is a joke, it’s not a funny one.”

“A joke? I don’t joke about things that matter.” Sasha seemed a bit offended, and Maxim wanted to believe him. He really did. But he still doubted. Sensing his hesitation, Sasha sighed. “I know I said we’d go drinking, but I thought we could go to my apartment, have dinner and drinks there.”

The way he said it made it sound like a dare, and Maxim couldn’t resist a challenge. “I never say no to food.”

Alexsandr’s answering grin was so radiant that it could have melted Antarctica, and Maxim suddenly realised he’d agreed to what sounded like a home date. The revelation made him nervous in an exciting way, similar to what he felt during hunts. Except he was pretty sure he was the one who had fallen into a trap this time. It was fine. Maxim loved the allure of danger, after all, and this particular danger was one he’d wanted to explore for so long.

This would be one of the worst mistakes of his life, or the best decision Maxim ever made. There was only one way to find out, and judging by Sasha’s pleased expression and the warmth in his chest as they walked side by side, Maxim was content with his decision.

_________________________

About the bouquet Sasha gives Maxim, I like to imagine he went to another florist who wasn't phased by the request, they made Sasha talk about what he wanted to say and then put a bouquet together. According to my quick research, the flowers used there mean:

White camellia: You are adorable Red chrysanthemum: I love you (Spanish) jasmine: Sensualtiy Yellow iris: Passion

So what do you think Sasha was trying to say with that? 😉

#rainbow 6 siege #r6s #rainbow six siege #kapkan #tachanka #fanfiction

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mermaidenisaacs · 4 years

Text

isaac went to college and became a fratboy, part 2

the aftermath of hooking up with isaac lahey at a frat party includes: shame, regret, and the stupid thrill of leaving him on read

TW: sexual language, sexist language, some impure thoughts

I finally saw Isaac again.

After a fire alarm interrupted my study session at the library (some idiot burned Poptarts in the microwave again), I was forced to evacuate to a nearby dining hall. I was annoyed by the whole ordeal until the hunger pangs kicked in.

I was waiting in line for tacos when I saw him. He was sitting at a table by the windows, laughing with his head thrown back while another guy, presumably one of his frat bros, playfully shoved his shoulder and laughed along. He was surrounded by three attractive boys, one of which I recognized from my political science class last semester. I remembered him because he was unnaturally attractive, with swooped brown hair and warm chocolate eyes, and also because he had saved me from the embarrassment of forgetting to bring a scantron for the midterm by offering me one of his extras. His fratboy status aside, he was surprisingly decent. His name may have started with an ‘S.’ Steven maybe? Sam?

I couldn’t focus on him for long, not when Isaac suddenly turned in my direction and met my gaze. I froze, caught in the act of staring. The corner of Isaac’s mouth tilted upwards into a smirk, and his gaze dropped shamelessly to my legs and drifted slowly back up, and in that moment, all the memories of our night together came rushing back.

It was the first time I’d seen him since that night he had invited me to a party at his frat house, where he unceremoniously fucked me head-first into his bedroom door, then kicked me out, leaving me to retreat with my hair disheveled, makeup smudged, traces of him between my thighs. Anyone who wasn’t too drunk or high could piece together why I looked absolutely wrecked. I’m sure many girls had been seen doing the walk of shame out of Isaac’s room, and now I really was just one of the many, another notch on his bedpost.

Isaac succeeded in living up to his fuckboy reputation. After that party, he texted almost every other midnight, snapchatted borderline nude selfies of his shirtless chest or his hand palming his erection over his sweatpants, with captions like “wyd,” “you up,” or “miss this?” That last one always sent waves of arousal, tainted with shame, reminders of the way I let Isaac degrade me and use my body, the way I loved every second of it and craved to feel it again.

So far, I hadn’t texted him back, but I couldn’t resist leaving him on read. I smirked at the thought that Isaac might feel the sting of my cold indifference. It wasn’t much, and it was stupid, but it was the only power I could salvage back for myself. I avoided him in class too, and nearly gave myself leg cramps every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday to sprint across campus and get to class early so I could choose a seat far away from our usual spots. I sat towards the front, an area I knew he wouldn’t encroach in fear that the professor would see him dozing off during lecture. He even texted me dirty things during class to get my attention. It was taxing to ignore the distraction, but I ignored the buzzing on my desk, letting Isaac’s stare burn a hole into the back of my head.

Eventually he got the hint and the texts stopped, and it left me with the somewhat bittersweet realization that we had reached the end of our… whatever it was.

Or so I thought. Three weeks and one burnt poptart later, there he was, staring back at me with the knowing glint in his eyes that only comes when you’ve seen someone naked.

The only available table in the dining hall was one near the windows, and I would have to walk past Isaac’s table to get there. With my tray in hand and my bag hanging off one shoulder, I steeled myself and walked in his direction.

I hung my head, letting my hair drape my face from his view, but my attempt at hiding was useless. He called out my name anyway. I tried to continue in my path and pretend I hadn’t heard him, but he called my name louder. Begrudgingly, I stopped and turned around.

“Isaac.” I said.

“So, she lives. I was starting to get worried. You never responded to my messages,” he said, subtly referencing his obscene attempts at luring me back into his bed.

I rolled my eyes and smiled back tight-lipped. “I was hoping you’d take the hint and leave me alone, but clearly you’re too dense.”

One of Isaac’s friends snorted loudly at my remark, the one I recognized from last semester. Isaac glared at him. “Sorry,” the boy said. “First time seeing a girl call you on your bullshit. I like her.”

I smiled at him, bashfully tucking my hair behind my ear. “Um, I remember you, but I’m blanking on your name. Sorry,” I said to him.

“No worries! I don’t think we were ever properly introduced. I’m Scott. We had political science last semester, right?” I nodded. “Yeah, you were the girl who forgot a scantron.”

“Yes.” I chuckled in slight embarrassment. “Thanks for that, by the way. You really saved my ass.”

“Of course! I was happy to have an excuse to talk to the pretty girl who sat next to me all semester, even if it was just for a few seconds,” he said charmingly, flashing an adorable smile. I scoffed playfully at the compliment. His gentle flirting was a welcomed change from the texts I’d been receiving from Isaac, who I noticed was suddenly glaring daggers at me. “Hey,” Scott said, “since you’re here and you know Isaac, and now you know me too, why don’t you join us?”

My eyes went wide and my mind blanked. I stuttered for an excuse. “Oh, th-that’s okay, I don’t want to intrude. Besides, there aren’t even any empty seats--”

“Oh no worries, I got you.” Scott stood up and looked around, then approached a nearby table. He spoke a few words to the group of girls studying there, who giggled at something he said and nodded. Scott picked up an empty chair at their table and brought it over, proudly presenting his contribution. “There! Please, sit.” He gestured towards the seat and smiled at me so sweetly, I felt it would be rude to reject his offer. I nodded and gingerly perched on the seat. I set down my bag and my food, and cordially gave a tiny wave to all the other boys at the table, who exchanged knowing grins.

~*~*~*~

Isaac couldn’t believe you actually accepted Scott’s offer to take a seat.

Not that Scott had left you much of a choice. He had these big brown eyes that girls usually fell for. And then there was the way he so valiantly brought a chair over for you. Isaac chewed on the flesh inside his cheek, unable to plaster on his usual easy grin. He couldn’t help it, especially now that you were sitting with him and his friends, acting all cute and polite, playing the act of the good girl again.

Normally, his pride would swell if he saw you act all prim and proper. He could bask in the satisfaction of being the only one who knew who you really were, what you really were. He knew your ticks, your kinks, what you looked like when you were coming apart all over his cock and begging him for more.

He couldn’t enjoy that knowledge today, not when his friends were staring at you like that. To any outsider, they just looked three boys engrossed in chit chat, but Isaac knew better. Behind their friendly, clean cut facade, they were all thinking the same thing, and it was far from clean. Isaac didn’t care who his friends slept with, and on occasion they even passed around the same girls, those special ones who didn’t care who they fucked as long as they had a good time.

But for some reason, the thought that any one of them, Theo or Liam, or especially Scott, laying a finger on you, made Isaac’s blood boil. Isaac tried to extract this ugly feeling, this primal possesiveness he couldn’t seem to shake when he saw another guy looking at you.

Isaac somehow managed to keep his expression neutral as you giggled at something Liam just said. The kid had managed to endear himself to you already. He was young, and in the newest pledge class, but he was a quick learner. Isaac had taken a fondness to him and decided to mentor him, taken him under his wing and transformed him into his image. Liam’s arrogance and eagerness to prove himself was something Isaac remembered from his freshman year. What he didn’t expect was that Liam would hone Isaac’s techniques to make girls fall at his feet and use them on you.

You giggled again. “Oh my god, Liam, I can’t believe you did that!” Liam had just finished telling a story about the time he knocked over a TV trying to do a drunken keg stand. “You could’ve broken your arm or something. What were you thinking?”

Liam shrugged sheepishly and grinned. “I don’t know. There was a girl I wanted to impress and she was older than me, so I just went for it ya know?”

You smiled fondly at him. “That is adorable. How much older was she? And what year are you?”

“She’s a senior and… I’m a freshman.” Liam looked down shyly and rubbed the back of his head, just like Isaac had taught him to. The lesson was to use your age to your advantage. Girls loved that cute shit.

“Aww, Liam you’re so cute! And I’m sure she thought so too.”

“You think so? That’s good. I’m kinda into older girls.” Liam bowed his head again and smiled, and Isaac would’ve been proud of how well he’d taught him, if only you weren’t on the receiving end of his little performance.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be working. You hummed casually in response. “Hm, I know what you mean. My philosophy professor last semester was so hot. She was maybe in her late 30s, and I still have no clue what she went on and on about, but it was my favorite lecture of the day.”

Isaac inwardly grinned at the way Liam’s accomplished smile faded at your unaffected response.

Theo snorted. “You had a crush on your female professor?” he drawled. “That’s kinda hot.”

“Is it? It’s not really that big of a deal. Haven’t you ever found any of your male professors attractive? I feel like the place is swarming with hot male professors.”

Theo looked at you in amusement, with a twinkle in his eyes that Isaac was all too familiar with. It was clear now Theo had his sights set on you, and usually when that happened, Theo got exactly what he wanted. “Can’t say I’ve had time to think about the men around here. I’ve been a bit too distracted with the girls.”

When Liam flirted with you, Isaac could manage his jealousy, since the kid was still mostly innocent, all talk and no real game. With Theo, all bets were off. He didn’t have an innocent bone in his body and he wasn’t afraid to let girls know, and they were always very happy to know. Isaac knew he himself had strayed far from purity a long time ago, but Theo was something else. Isaac preferred you choose anyone over Theo, maybe even Scott, who was Isaac’s closest friend, if it meant you would stay away from Theo.

“So, I’m curious,” Theo continued. “How exactly do you know Isaac?”

Isaac noticed the way your eyes widened the tiniest bit. “Oh, uh, we um, have a class together,” you said. Isaac could hear the nervous wobble in your voice as you spoke, and his lip curled up in amusement at the realization that you were nervous because you were thinking about him.

author’s note: i came across a google doc of a draft i wrote 3 years ago. a continuation of a fratboy!isaac fic that made people feel some kinda way. the fic, along with all my other fics, got zapped when my old blog got terminated. but since i found the draft and remembered how many requests i got for a part 2, here it is (kinda). 3 years later. i’m sorry.

#isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey smut #isaac lahey fanfiction #isaac lahey #teen wolf #hey it's mar

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notchesandbullets · 3 years

Text

Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)

Part 6: Shopping for clothes, food court and boba experience served with Ashido’s endless shipping and topped off with an incredibly protective Dadzawa.

Word Count: 5.8k

After another hour of shopping around the huge mall, Aizawa decided now would probably be a good time to try and round his students up. Since if there were any problems tracking down those problematic and ridiculously talented children, he could deal with it before it got too late and past their curfew.

Besides, you still needed clothes and he was not equipped to handle that. As Kayama said, he had the fashion sense of an emo teenager going through his rebellious phase. The thing was, she had been saying that since she met him, so it lost its effect a long time ago.

"Heeyy, Ojiro-kun!! Y/N-chan!!!"

The both of you turned around to see Uraraka waving enthusiastically at you. Yaoyorozu and Ashido were with her, along with Shoji, Asui and Hagakure coming from the opposite direction.

Ojiro had spared his teacher from having to call all of them and simply sent a message in the group chat.

You didn't even want to know how often they used it based off of the glance you got when he pulled out his phone and let you see. In the span of the six-inch screen, you had caught a glimpse of topics ranging from food to homework to bodily functions and your head was spinning.

Aizawa sighed boredly and you threw him a sly side glance as Jirou, Kaminari and Ojiro ran out to meet the rest of the group once the boy by your side ensured you would stay with the only one responsible here.

"You're not really tired, are you, Aizawa-sensei?" You asked cheekily, skipping over to him.

He huffed out a laugh as he leaned against the wall. "You're cute, kid. Cut it out."

"I can't help it~" You whined, pouting childishly.

You protested as he ruffled your hair. Unlike when Ojiro did it, he was rougher and always messed it up. Nearly patting it down so it laid flat, you glared and the nerve he had to laugh outright at you had your mock frown wavering into a bright smile.

The sound made your eyes sparkle happily and he caught on quick.

"You did that on purpose, kid." He stated with a sigh, already feeling himself succumbing to your adorable nature.

No one should be that cute. It wasn't good for his heart.

He raised an eyebrow at you as you scuffed your feet on the ground, a cheeky smile still plastered on your face.

Aizawa ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slightly. You were cute, even with how reluctant he was to admit to sometimes. Damn, he was getting a soft spot for you.

But the instant Ashido cooed, he returned to his stiff, normal, rugged teacher self.

"Alright, get going." He said dryly, gently redirecting you towards Ojiro who was holding out his hand to you before following. "We don't have all day."

"Technically, we do." Kaminari whispered in your ear and you giggled, covering it up with Aizawa fixated a glare on the two of you.

You held up your hand in surrender. "We are innocent."

"Yeah, yeah, likely story." Aizawa didn't believe you for a second. "Just go."

You skipped on ahead, Ojiro glued to your side. The girls flocked around you, Yaoyorozu leading the group to a different clothing store that she and her companions had been at earlier. This seemed much more suited to you, not to mention, a lot more affordable.

You were picking out a couple of things that seemed nice but you were really taking a gamble. You never had been clothes shopping before and weren't really sure what to expect. People mostly dressed you in whatever they wanted you to be presented in.

Luckily, Yaoyorozu swooped in to help.

Ojiro was surprisingly pretty knowledgeable about fashion too and when asked, he had blushed before proudly gushing about his little sister who he usually took on all her shopping trips when their parents were busy working. She had quite an acute fashion sense.

A huge pile of clothes later, you were shoved into a fitting room, with Shoji, Kaminari, Ojiro and Aizawa all waiting outside like some kind of odd band.

Either that, or a very disgruntled dad who was forced to tag along with all his unusual children.

The girls were gushing over each item that you put on, rushing out to get different sizes if the ones they picked didn't fit, making you show the boys and guardian everything that you liked.

You tended to gravitate more towards comfy clothes but there were a few Yaoyorozu and Hagakure found that were both beautiful and versatile. Those were an immediate yes from Aizawa and Ojiro, wanting you to have as much variety as possible.

Everything the girls had picked out that you show them complimented your figure beautifully but was still modest.

While you weren't looking, Shoji had selected some shoes for you, noticing that the ones you had one were practically falling apart on your feet. They were sturdy but had a geometric pattern that you found you rather liked a lot.

Thanking him, you beamed and he hid a smile.

Aizawa paid for all of it without batting an eye and you felt guilty for making him spend his money.

"You're not making me do anything, kid." He called out, as if he could read your thoughts. "I'm doing this because I want to provide for you, not because I feel forced to, got it?"

Besides, he had more than enough thanks to his hero work and teaching at the school. He rarely splurged on anything, the last thing being his old yellow sleeping bag which he had gotten years ago.

This wasn't even going to make a dent in the funds he had saved up.

You sniffled, nodding once. His bluntness took you by surprise but you concealed it well. You had no idea he could be so caring. You were overwhelmed by his generosity and the kindness of the people that surrounded you.

How did I get so lucky? What did I do to deserve this?

Aizawa's hands grasped empty air where the bags had been a minute ago, glancing at his students who were now in possession of your newly purchased things but shrugged, leaving them to it. Less work for him.

He watched them stumble one after another, all of them eagerly making their way to the food court. He checked the time on his phone, suppressing a yawn. It was about time to eat anyway.

Finally. He could sit down and take a nap.

You yelped as Ashido suddenly grasped your arm, pulling you along and you stumbled a few feet before righting yourself. Your hand slipped out of Ojiro's and you shouted in surprise as she took off like a racecar.

"Wha... Where are we going?!" You exclaimed as she sped ahead, dragging you along with her and leaving everyone else in the dust.

She excitedly pointed up ahead and you followed her finger.

"What's 'bubble tea'?" You asked innocently, never hearing of it before.

Your friend gasped in shock that you had never had the pleasure of experiencing the best thing in the world but then the wicked smile that crossed her face as she got behind the line was borderline evil.

"Oh, you're going to love this!!" Ashido said, her eyes gleaming.

When it was your turn, Ojiro finally caught up to the two of you. He was out of breath but all the tension in his body dissipated as he spotted you, safe and sound next to the pink girl. Unknown to you, he had zipped after you the second your hand slipped out of his but he had gotten swarmed by the crowd and lost sight of you.

Thankfully, Ashido hadn't taken you too far.

You squeaked, drawing your hands into your chest as you were crushed to his chest. "O-Ojiro-kun?"

"Geez, Y/N." He breathed, exasperated. "Don't scare me like that."

His scolding was light since he obviously knew it wasn't your fault but he was still concerned. You mumbled an apology and he hastily corrected his mistake, reassuring you that you didn't do anything wrong and you sank into his embrace, relieved.

Seeing as how it was your turn to order, he reluctantly let you go. You wandered up to the counter to shyly ask the barista what was good for someone who hadn't tried boba before and the girl launched into an advertisement of all her favorites.

Ojiro was busy sending a quick message to Aizawa to let him know that he had found you when Ashido slinked into his field of vision.

She bumped his hip with hers, pumping a fist into the air. "Oh, lighten up Ojiro, she's safe with me!! I won't let anybody take her!!"

She knew of the people after you but she had no idea about the incident that had occurred inside one of the stores just hours ago. As Ojiro clued her in, her eyes went wide and filled with guilt.

"Holy... I'm so sorry, I had no idea." She said, shoulders dropping as her usual energy dulled down. "Is she okay?"

Ojiro nodded, not once taking his eyes off of you. "Yeah, she was a bit shaky at first, but who wouldn't be? I think she's okay so long as we don't leave her."

Ashido nodded understandingly.

Seeing as how you were having trouble deciding what to get after a multitude of options from the enthusiastic barista, you turned back to Ojiro helplessly.

He slid up behind you, hands on your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

"Can we please have one regular milk tea with tapioca, a chai milk tea, and a taro milk tea with no ice, half sugar and tapioca, please?" He requested of the nice girl behind the counter, squeezing your side to let you know that everything was alright and you relaxed in his embrace.

Talking to strangers freaked you out even though she seemed nice enough. You just didn't like looking like an idiot who didn't know what they were doing, lacking the social skills everyone else seemed to have no problems with.

Ashido beamed, hopping over from looking at the menu to where the two of you were standing.

"No way, you remembered my order?!" She shrieked in disbelief and awe as she heard the complicated order. "Ojiro, you're amazing!!"

You had to agree with that statement. She proceeded to tell you of the time when she ordered it back when they were at Yaoyorozu's house to study for the upcoming exam, saying that there's no other way he could've heard it if it wasn't from back then.

You latched onto her story as if it was the most incredible thing in the world.

As Ojiro paid for the drinks, you helped carry them back to the table where Aizawa was sitting, Ashiso slurping on her drink already with a dazed look of joy on her face.

The underground hero looked out of place with children, families and teenagers milling around him.

He was sitting at a table by himself with several huge bags from various stores, most of which were very girly in design, signifying everyone's purchases. Seemed like everyone had left their stuff with him. You felt kind of bad but he looked like he didn't care so you suppressed it.

You set down the cups, glancing around the packed food court.

"Where's everybody else?" You asked.

Aizawa gestured to the ramen stands on the opposite side of the food court. "It's close to dinnertime, so they went to go get some food."

On cue, Ashido's stomach rumbled loudly.

"Oops." She grinned, tossing the now empty cup in a nearby trash can. "That's my cue!!"

Your eyes were as wide as saucers. "You finished it already?! It's been two minutes!!"

Flashing you a megawatt smile, she flounced off in another direction, presumably to get some food.

Uncertainly, you sank down in a chair across from Aizawa. Now that you thought about it, you were kind of hungry, but this was normal. All you had to do was not think about it and then the urges would go away.

Eventually.

You really didn't want to ask them to buy you anything, they didn't owe you anything and they've already done so much for you. One day without food wouldn't kill you.

Aizawa could read you better than that.

"Ojiro."

The boy looked up as his teacher called his name.

"She's hungry. Go get some gyūdon for her." Aizawa instructed without batting an eye at your flabbergasted expression.

It would be easy enough on your stomach, since he was sure you lacked the proper nutrients you needed for a girl your age. This would suffice for now until he could come up with a meal plan for you to get adjusted to your new normal. He was not going to have you starve from now on.

Nodding once, Ojiro sped towards where they were selling it but not before his teacher halted him to hand him ¥10,000. His eyes widened as he took in the hefty amount.

He looked mildly uncomfortable. "Aizawa-sensei—"

"Get something for yourself too, I don't care what you choose." Aizawa interrupted swiftly, his hard stare leaving no room for argument. "Make sure it's an appropriate enough meal for dinner though."

As Ojiro left to go hunt down some gyūdon, you swung your legs happily, beaming at the gruff man sitting across from you. His rough exterior and indifferent demeanor hid it well, but you still saw it. That softness in his gaze when he thought no one else was looking. He loved his students.

"Stop that." He said flatly as he caught you staring but you just giggled.

"I can't help it." You countered, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, your ears swiveling easily. "It's cute."

Aizawa snorted at that. "Enough, Y/N."

You conceded but the laughter in your eyes didn't fade and he shook his head, already done with your antics.

You knew exactly how much you were annoying him, which is why you were surprised when he suddenly asked you,

"How are you doing with all of this?"

He scrutinized you closely and your mouth opened and closed, at a loss for words. The possibility of you having done something wrong crossed your mind and your anxiety spiked.

Glancing down, you squeaked. "What do you mean?"

His eyes narrowed at you and you gulped.

Aizawa sighed, running a hand through his hair. He should've phrased it better. He knew by now you were insecure of your place, still figuring things out for yourself. His class had been a culture shock to you.

"How are you adjusting?" He corrected himself quietly, studying your facial expressions.

You contemplated his question before giving your answer.

"I think I'm doing okay," You said slowly, scratching your fluffy ears in thought. "It's been kind of weird having a place to call home and people who actually don't see me as a pet but it's nice."

Aizawa's jaw ticked and he clenched his hand into a fist at your honesty, overcome with the sudden urge to hunt down the Quirk Traffickers right then and there. He was taken aback by such a strong feeling.

The last time he felt something like this was when the League of Villains threatened his students at USJ.

Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself down. He was a pro, he knew how to handle himself better than this.

However, all logic and reasoning fled the instant he saw it.

Aizawa moved faster than you could blink, catching the wrist inching towards your ears in an iron grip and stopped them from making contact.

"Don't touch her." He seethed, warning coming through clear as his eyes flashed red, the pressure on the boy's wrist making it clear that he would snap it if he so much as looked at you again.

As a pro-hero, he wasn't allowed to threaten them with bodily harm, but he couldn't help the anger that bubbled up when the gang of boys tried to lay their filthy hands on you.

"Are you okay?" He asked again but for a different reason than before as security intervened and took over.

You nodded, slightly dazed at how fast it happened.

You hadn't even sensed them behind you, caught up in your conversation with him that you had lost awareness of your surroundings. You felt a bit ashamed of your own helplessness but grateful that he had protected you. Your ears were sensitive and touching them was an intimate gesture reserved only privileged for certain people.

"Do you want to leave?" He asked caringly, eyes concerned, not taking any measures to hide his worry.

You shook your head. You weren't that shaken up. He took care of it before anything even happened. You almost were completely unaffected.

"I'm okay..." You mumbled, fiddling with your hands in your lap as your fingers shook. "Thank you, Aizawa-sensei."

He nodded to you before sinking back down in his chair. You picked up where he left off, asking about his well being. He seemed surprised to hear you ask about him but he answered that he was fine.

You seemed disappointed in his reply but before he could follow it up with a very brief elaboration, you cut him off.

"Do you think anyone will want me?" You asked, tears pricking the corner of your eyes as the more recent development started to catch up to you.

You were sure that if you didn't have these ears and tail that people wouldn't just try to touch you out of nowhere. You were sure that if you had a different quirk, maybe your parents wouldn't have given you up.

"What did I do wrong?" You whispered brokenly.

Aizawa's heart shattered as he heard that. "You didn't do anything wrong, kid."

You sniffled, ears drooping sadly. "But... But if I—"

"It's not your fault that they left, they were shitty parents for leaving you." He interrupted brazenly with a fire that took you aback as he swore in front of you. "You deserve someone better than people who leave at the drop of a hat."

He seemed like he was speaking from experience but you didn't pry further, certain he was already uncomfortable with all your anxiety and insecurities.

"You didn't have to do all of this, you know." The defeat in your small voice made him bristle.

Who the fuck treated you so bad that you didn't expect decent respect and kindness?

"You signed the paper but you don't actually have to do any of the stuff it says." You continued quietly, not noticing how the man across from you was shaking with anger. "I can find another place to stay, you won't have to pay for anything, I can manage on my own. I don't want to be a burden to someone as nice as you."

If he was angry before, he was livid now.

You jumped as he suddenly stood up, chair falling over from the force, drawing the attention of a couple of bystanders.

He strode over to you, crouching down in front of you. The bags piled high on the table obstructed the view for most of the people around you and they begrudgingly went about their business when he glared at them.

You, however, couldn't look away.

"You better listen, kid, because I'm only going to say this once." Aizawa ground out, jaw ticking. "I didn't sign that agreement out of pity. I signed it because I want you to be able to live a life not hindered by fear. I don't want you to have to live looking over your shoulder everyday because you're scared you're being followed, that's why I signed it."

You were at a loss of words by how passionate he was. The emotion cracked his steady tone and betrayed his true state. He was frazzled by your half-conscious words you spewed out, taking them to heart and relating to you on another level entirely.

"Were... were you..." You trailed off.

You couldn't bear to say it.

But he shook his head. "Not Quirk Traffickers. But I was raised by people who weren't exactly kind or the forgiving type."

He didn't divulge anything else and you didn't point it out, knowing he said that to you more for your own benefit rather than your own. Similar to you, he didn't seem like he wanted pity. He said it so that you saw that he understood.

"You're not living out on the streets. I'm not doing any of this because I feel like I have to, I told you, I want to do it." He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Look, kid, you might not see it yet, but I actually don't mind taking care of you, okay? If you find someone else you want to live with, that's fine."

You were about to object that you couldn't envision someone caring for you like he had but you couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"I will talk to them first, though, before you go with them." Aizawa continued authoritatively, slipping into da— teacher mode. "If they're unsuited to care for you or if they're criminals then you can't go with them until they prove to me that they can take proper care of you and keep you safe. If you— Why are you laughing?"

You had doubled over in a fit of giggles, tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes as you laughed uncontrollably.

He lifted an eyebrow, unamused. "Kid, what are you doing?"

You bit your lip but your eyes creased, giving your smile away. "I-I can't breathe!!"

It took a couple seconds and several deep breaths but you finally got ahold of yourself and cleared up his confusion.

"It's just... you sound a lot like a dad, or at least, I think that's what a dad sounds like." You tapped a finger to your chin thoughtfully, mulling it over.

You completely missed the way he froze when he heard you say 'dad'.

Swinging your legs, you ducked your head. "I... I know I didn't say this before, and you could definitely say no if you want to!! But, I-I d-don't really want to have anyone else be my guardian."

Aizawa was able to breathe a little bit better after hearing you say that and his eyes softened.

You squeaked as his hand plopped on your head, ruffling your hair and being careful not to knock into your ears.

With great difficulty, he held back a smile. "Alright, kid, we can do that."

Your ears perked up and he gave you a lopsided smile, but the fondness in his gaze was unmistakable. Goodness, he would put away all the villains in the world just to see you this happy.

"Really?!" You practically shouted and he chuckled, not even caring about the dirty looks the two of you were getting as a result of your loud volume.

He shrugged to hide the skip his heart did when you looked up at him so lovingly. "Sure, I'll talk to Principal Nezu later and see if we can work out a more permanent arrangement."

"Adoption?" You asked curiously.

The innocent question sent his heart rate spiking and he nearly choked on air. You had no idea just how bad he wanted to adopt you.

"Don't you want me to foster you first, kid?" He joked but it came out strained.

That was a pretty big decision to make and usually the adult was the one to decide to take on a kid. For you to bring it up so casually caught him off-guard.

You frowned, pouting slightly. Maybe you moved too fast. Obviously, he wanted to see if he could even handle a mutt like you before he even though about adopting you and—

"Stop that."

His sharp command whistled through the noise in your head and you blinked, focusing on his face and wincing at the intensity of his narrowed eyes.

"Whatever you're thinking, I didn't suggest fostering because I don't want to adopt you. I just want you to be sure you want to have me as your... parent." Aizawa finished, unsure if he had earned the right to call himself your dad yet.

He shuffled over to the other end of the table and righted his displaced chair. "You'll turn 18 soon enough and by then you could live on your own if you want."

Ah, there it was.

Your expression cleared. He was worried you wanted him to adopt him only to find out you guys couldn't get along for whatever reason and then up and leave. Whether it was you or him doing the leaving, it would impact you both and he didn't want you to make a mistake you would regret.

Adoption was a serious decision and it wasn't like either one of you could get out of it if it didn't work out.

You weren't completely oblivious. You knew there was a chance of this failing, but you were willing to take this chance and he was willing to accept you into his life more permanently.

To know that he was thinking of you first only sealed the deal.

You swallowed hard. You only had courage to say this once.

"I don't remember my parents or what they were like. I only know what it's like to have friends because Ojiro-kun showed me how. I don't know what to expect when it comes to having a dad to depend on or anything like that." You took a deep breath, growing quieter. "But... I do want someone like that one day."

Even if it didn't come right away. You could wait. You waited an eternity, what was a little longer?

Aizawa nodded, understanding where you were coming from. "Well then, I'll talk it over to Nezu and make sure my adopting you won't affect you getting into UA."

Your jaw dropped to the floor. "What?!"

"Uh huh," He clicked his tongue absentmindedly as he scrolled through his texts on his phone, completely disregarding your shock. "He said you could enroll in the general studies but off the record, you'll be taking hero courses."

They didn't want to attract the traffickers' attention. They would keep you under the radar as much as possible while you attended.

Pocketing the handheld device, leaned back in his seat. "You're a good kid, Y/N."

You beamed at him and he cracked a smile. No matter what you went through, you always seemed to bounce right back. No matter how bleak the darkness was, your light burned even brighter.

One day, you were going to be a force to be reckoned with. He could already see it.

"You'll still have to take the entrance exam." He stated and you nodded eagerly.

"I'll do my best!!" You cheered.

He chuckled, folding his arms over his chest. He had no doubt about it.

By the time Ojiro got back to your table, he was surprised to find you and his teacher conversing as if it was the easiest thing in the universe. He was certain Aizawa didn't have it in him to openly express emotions other than exhaustion.

Well, that and boredom.

Ojiro tilted his head at the two of you in confusion, holding a tray that contained three bowls of steaming hot food. "Did I miss something?"

You bit your lip to suppress a smile and Aizawa raised an eyebrow but neither one of you answered him.

Setting down the tray, he served the food. His gaze fell on your tail, which was happily swishing behind you and he decided that it didn't matter if you didn't want to tell him, he was just glad to see you enjoying yourself.

Your mouth watered when the food was set down in front of you but Aizawa was surprised to find three helpings of gyūdon rather than just two.

Reaching into his pocket, Ojiro pulled out the remaining yen he had stuffed there earlier to his teacher and your eyes went wide.

Similarly, Aizawa's eyes narrowed in suspicion at the amount left. There was no way there should be this much left after buying this much food.

"Ojiro..." He warned with a sharp look, daring him to confirm his suspicions.

The boy had an apologetic look on his face but stood fast. "I used your money to pay for Y/N's but I used mine to buy ours."

Before his teacher could say a word, Ojiro rushed out. "You haven't eaten anything yet so you must be hungry too!! I'm sorry Aizawa-sensei, I just thought—"

Aizawa held up a hand to stop his rambling. He was nearly as bad as Midoriya.

"It's fine. Thank you." The man said curtly, reaching over the table to split a pair of chopsticks for you. "But you're not allowed to do it again."

"But sensei—!!" Ojiro protested.

Aizawa gave him a look that shut him up quickly.

You had been trying to ignore their disagreement. Tension never did sit too well with you and even though you knew that Aizawa wasn't really mad at Ojiro, you couldn't help but flinch at their raised voices.

So when they finally took notice of your unease and quieted down, you could focus all of your attention on satisfying your rumbling tummy.

You stared at the big bowl before you. Rice and beef soaked in aromatic broth had you salivating. Garnished with steamed edamame and a sprig of parsley, the beef bowl almost looked too good to eat.

But it smelled so good.

You were about to take a huge bite when Aizawa firmly instructed you to blow on it first. Pouting, you did as you were told and by the time you did eat it, you didn't burn yourself.

You laughed at him sheepishly as he sent you a knowing glare afterwards, knowing full well that you would have burned your tongue in your eagerness if he didn't stop you.

Kicking your feet happily, you took a sip of bubble tea for the very first time, beaming brightly at the two of them as the sugary drink flooded your taste buds.

You almost poked a hole in the straw with your canines by accident when you bit down in your haste to chew the tapioca pearls.

Ojiro looked on excitedly as you experienced boba for the first time, matching your energy and Aizawa's gaze was soft, fatherly. But he was not going to admit that to either of you.

You wiggled in your seat, vibrating with energy after that meal and the drink that you counted as an unofficial dessert.

Aizawa even ate, begrudgingly, but it still counted since you refused to give up on him.

You were slightly concerned when he still didn't touch his food even after you and Ojiro were almost done with yours. The way he picked at his food disinterestedly was a bit alarming. It was as if he hadn't been doing a good job of taking care of himself.

You frowned as you watched him longer, only for nothing to change.

Aizawa had been startled when you grasped onto his arm, pleading with your eyes for him to eat what Ojiro had so thoughtfully bought for him, saying that you were worried about him. He had tried to shove you off, change the subject or even get Ojiro to pry you off of him, but you persisted.

Finally, Aiawa sighed, giving into your puppy eyes and ate his portion.

You cheered, high-fiving Ojiro, the victory in your eyes not dimming even as he fixated a glare on the two of you.

It lost its potency as you flat out ignored him, giving all of your attention to the blushing tail boy beside you.

Everyone else that came with you to the mall had finished eating faster than the three of you did since they had gotten theirs earlier, so they went looking for you. Imagine their surprise when they saw their teacher laughing for the first time after you cracked a joke.

The girls had gathered around you and you had to admit, while you never had gyūdon before, it was now your favorite food.

You had waited to try the bubble tea until Ojiro got back, unsure which one was yours at the time since they were vastly different in color and you didn't want to accidentally drink the wrong one.

Aizawa was no help since he didn't drink that stuff so you were forced to wait until your friend returned.

Of course, this led to you trying to guess which one Ojiro had intended for you while he was still gone, your guardian looking on in amusement as you went back and forth between the two options. You weren't even trying to make him smile and yet, he couldn't help it.

Aizawa shook his head at you when you had practically pounced on the cup as his student pointed out which one he had ordered for you, his amusement only increasing when you drank it so fast that it almost came out of your nose when something he said made you laugh.

You cried at the uncomfortable sensation, willing it to go away as everyone chuckled at the expression you were making.

Ashido gave you a hug to make it go by faster. But once you could breathe again, a sly smirk crept up her face as Ojiro offered you a sip of his.

You were curious so naturally, you accepted. Only after you took a sip did Ashido crack.

"That counts!!!" She shrieked excitedly, Uraraka and Hagakure squealing alongside her and you were left in the dark.

"Huh?" You squeaked, blinking down at the drink in your hand, wondering if you had done something wrong.

You glanced at Ojiro but he looked just as puzzled as you.

He shrugged at you helplessly, turning to the pink girl practically vibrating in the chair she had stolen. "Mind clueing us in?"

The smile on Ashido's face could only be classified as devious. "YOU KISSED!!!"

It was indirect but it still counted!!! And she was going to milk it for all it was worth.

Ojiro nearly choked on his saliva and you violently coughed, the boba going down the wrong way as she declared it so loud every single one of the surrounding tables heard her.

Aizawa almost fell out of his seat.

Needless to say, for the rest of the time you were there, Ashido wouldn't let it go and relentlessly teased the two of you until you were both cherry red from embarrassment, refusing to look at each other.

But as you filed out of the Kiyashi shopping mall back to the car, his tail crept around your waist to guide you in the dark and you couldn't see it, but his bashful smile matched yours all the way there.

Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel

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stvpidinlove · 3 years

Photo

[ OLIVIA HOLT, SHE/HER, CIS WOMAN ] — [ REGAN MORGAN ] is a child of [ MORPHEUS ] with the power of [ PRECOGNITIVE DREAMING ] . they were born in [ 1995 ] and have been in nemean lion since [ 2019 ] . with the change, they [ ARE TRAINING IN ] the [ AMBASSADOR ] role which makes sense since they’re usually [ SCROLLING HER CURSED TIKTOK FYP & CONFUSING HER FOLLOWERS ON TWITTER ] . if you’d like to meet them try the [ MOON ] building .

tl;dr she’s a deranged menace to society

BASICS

hometown: milford, pennsylvania

eye color: brown

hair color: blonde

height: 5′3

sexuality: bisexual

birthday: january 19, 1995 ( capricorn )

BIO

regan’s mother was never the type to settle down. before meeting morpheus, her longest relationship had been three months. so when the guy seemed commitment-phobic, that was perfect for her. until, of course, she found out she was pregnant. she didn’t want to get married but she was at an age where the idea of motherhood...didn’t repulse her. so she wanted to keep the baby, at which point the father of her child didn’t get down on one knee, he started to explain the kinds of responsibilities she’d face as the mother of his child.

having the child of a god in her womb inflated her ego, which was pretty impressive considering how big it already was. see, regan’s mother was a southern belle without any of the class or manners. she’d breezed through the pageant circuit as a teen, winning a number of titles with minimal effort. her talent was essentially crying on demand and looking pretty while doing it. knowing she’d slept with a god, like an honest to...god felt sort of fitting. like, duh, who else would she have her first child with?

this also led to a brief but intense fixation with shakespeare, who name dropped gods like it was his job, which led to her choosing the name regan from king lear.

she moved to pennsylvania with regan when her daughter was only four years old, because some guy practically begged her to let him take care of her, and she had nowhere better to go. until, eventually, she did, thanks to the world of avon. her mother started selling out of boredom but then it turned out she was good at it, so good that she could easily buy a place once she got bored of her rich boyfriend, and move out with regan.

thankfully, her mother got out of the pyramid scheme before she got in too deep. she was hired by an actual, reputable cosmetics company and given a desk job to work in sales, which she was still a natural at. because she had a full time job now, regan spent a lot of time with nannies...and that’s nannies plural because regan was one of those kids who drove her caretakers to quit on a regular basis.

but not because she was a handful. she was pretty self-sufficient, actually, and totally well-behaved, she was just kind of...weird. she’d leave her room for dinner with all of her clothes suddenly on backwards and say nothing as if it was normal and act confused when her nanny asked about it. she’d stare at the tv when it was off, she’d spend one day only speaking in whispers, she’d write vaguely threatening messages on the mirror with her mother’s red lipstick.

all of this was because regan knew it was scary to adults, which made it fun for her. she wasn’t, like, actually disturbed. well, aside from the dreams she had sometimes. she’d have a dream about a baby bird falling from a nest, she’d watch its chest move for minutes before it died, then she’d wake up the next day and find a dead bird outside the sliding glass doors to the backyard.

for a while she thought they were coincidences. then she thought she was making things happen in her sleep, and that it was her job to stop bad things from happening, to save every baby bird that asked for help in her dreams. it took her a few years to accept that just because she sometimes saw the future didn’t mean she had any power to change it. she was warned so she could prepare herself, which only made her feel more powerless.

but being regan, she chose to cope with this aspect of her life with avoidance and humor. she doesn’t want to pick and choose what she worries about and what she doesn’t, so she decided a long time ago not to take anything seriously.

for reasons unknown, regan’s mother actually decided to have another child after regan. but she was unconventional, too, hence regan being...the way she is, so she never actually married the father of regan’s half-brother, but they have been together for the past 15 years, so.

her brother is eleven years younger than she is, so in regan’s mind, a baby. whenever left with the task of babysitting him while the two were growing up, it would be regan who suggested ice cream for breakfast and sock sliding around the living room at dangerous speeds.

RANDOM FACTS

i want to v*mit saying this but.....she’s kind of like........the female version of stevesuptic. except for she’s cute <3

her entire twitch account is kind of satirical, like it’s very hard to gauge what her actual personality is. i don’t think her viewers bully her the way they bully steve bc she would bully them back LMAO but they ask her a lot of random ass super weird sometimes borderline disturbing questions and she answers them like it’s normal

she def has weird/creepy drawings whenever playing gartic phone tho /:

ig you could say her channel is like shit posting but make it a streamer. she has a really nice set up and she always looks made up in her streams but then the content is her playing like a cat dating sim for four hours

she’s actually pretty shit at most games that require any level of skill and her following comes entirely from her personality and her Brand ig, she’s just entertaining to watch bc she says and does the most ??? things. like she’s not a gamer girl and doesn’t say she is she just has a twitch and plays games for the attention

also she has a cat named muffintop (best part of the muffin, not the offensive term for a woman’s stomach, though she will say that’s what it means if someone asks) who she regularly posts memes of and like most of her twitch emotes are her cat. you can find examples on her pinterest board lmao

i think it’s pretty hard to get an actual vision out of regan? she mostly keeps those to herself and just lies about her dreams. she’ll just be like, “yeah actually i had a dream you were gonna choke on some oatmeal so stay safe out there.” she’s also only partially sure when a dream is actually about the future.

her like <3 symbol that represents her is butterflies, she has a ton of butterfly shit

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS

idk if i am requesting a roommate for once, idk if i wanna subject anyone to that

someone naive who believes her any time she says something is Going To Happen, no matter how stupid it is and no matter how many times things simply do not happen??

a bestie because...............................i just feel like she wormed her way into someone’s inner circle and they’re just stuck with her now

#idek how to describe her so this is not helpful actually #nlintro #𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁 ( 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 ) * regan #this is such a fever dream

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gagmebucky · 4 years

Text

[steve. breeding kink. baby.]

“Wanna know what makes it worse?” Steve leans in and trails his nose along the inviting curve of your shoulder and neck until his lips are adjacent with your ear. “My sense of smell, it tells me when your body is just ripe for the taking. It’s like you’re fucking calling me every single month—begging me to put your little pussy out of your misery. . . fuck and fuck until you’re milkin’ my kid right outta me.”

in which you’re playing with a baby and steve can’t resist himself. (includes steve’s pov, avenger!steve rogers x girlfriend!reader, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise kink, mild daddy kink, unprotected sex.)

do not repost.

—

Procedure requires debriefing at the end of every mission. In this hours-long process, an agent must recap the objectives and the means used to achieve them; deviations to the original plan and why; as well as whether success was gained, and any other pertinent intel possibly acquired.

This routine is mandatory for all those working for and with an organization like S.H.I.E.L.D.; not even the Avengers are exempt from this. Except in this particular case where the titular first of the super-powered team has forgone the professional necessity, and instead, is in search of you.

Normally, America’s golden boy can handle the dangers that occur in such a violent but imperative field. He understands the risks and pressures inherent to his line of duty, and he’s always accepted it, dealt with it because the overall outcome dwarfs the bad.

On this particular assignment, however, the stakes were higher than usual and although the quick snap-quick decisions he made ultimately paid off, it didn’t soften the blow of the sacrifices made. Times like this, he has to wonder if it’s worth it.

The tension weighs on his shoulders and crackles underneath his skin; his synapses are frayed with the memory of each fallen agent, the orders he doled out preambling every one, and the electricity curls his fists and locks his jaw. It’s corrupting that logical part of his brain, and that craving for vengeance can’t be sated with his knuckles breaking a few punching bags.

In rare moments like these, when the serum is pumping through his veins like rabies, there’s one thing to straighten the edges and bring him back from the trenches. That solace is you; your alluring smile and twinkling eyes, the musical carry of your laugh, your seemingly innate ability to figure out what’s wrong and quell the turmoil cycloning inside of him.

So he doesn’t report to Fury like he’s supposed to, doesn’t go over the myriad of errors that only worsened as the mission progressed—no one stops him either.

When employees spot him marching down the corridors, stealth suit still on and rippling across his hulking mass, his strides colliding deafeningly with the floor, handsome and affable features tightened intensely, their only recourse is moved out of the way. Thankfully, they get the hint because if someone hadn’t, he knows he’d snap and do something he might regret.

His senses, formerly haywire in his manic state, have lasered into tunnel focus; his eardrums hone in on the specific sound wave of your crooning voice, and the olfactory nerves in his nostrils guide him in a trail to the source of your intoxicating essence.

Steve slams the door open and storms into the upper, restricted level of the headquarters. His hastened pace slows upon your increased dose, lulling his awareness and distance waning significantly. As his search nears its end, he recognizes where he’s at: the luxurious space designed by and created for Tony Stark.

The doors are open so he doesn’t waste time knocking (not that he possesses the patience to abide by his hundred year old manners). Upon entry, he’s taken the tranquility occupying the atmosphere and the sight of you bathed in the sun’s glow; bright rays beam through the impenetrable windowed wall of the tower while you gently rock the three month old baby perched on your shoulder, probably basking in the dual warmth of you and the star.

From afar, behind you, the brown-eyed girl’s mother stands. With her head tilted and soft gratefulness slanted into her lips, the strawberry blonde’s hip rests against the office’s wet bar and watches fondly as you effortlessly soothe her child’s fussiness into a thumb-sucking slumber.

“Aren’t they cute?” Pepper Potts remarks as he steps beside her. Her gaze maintains on his girlfriend and her daughter. “Morgan would not stop crying for the past few hours, and I did everything to calm her down. I was frazzled and at my wit’s end then I handed her off to her aunt, and now she’s as quiet as a mouse.” She pauses and spares a glance over to his adoration-fixed stare, a slyness twisting into her smile. “I don't know what stage you two are at but she’d make a great mom.”

Steve knows you occasionally babysit for the Starks, but he’s never seen you like this. You’re in your element, swaying back and forth while you hum inaudibly into the infamous delicate baby’s ear. Her small hands are curled around your neck and her face nuzzled into the crease of your shoulder, with the opposing thumb slid between her lips as her big chocolate eyes flutter into a peaceful rest.

Suddenly breathless—but it’s not from the exertion—he has to agree, nodding his head. “Y - yeah,” he answers to both statements because it’s fucking adorable, and while there’s never been a doubt about your caring nature, this cements the fact that you would be an amazing mother. The sensation boils in his gut, and his fingers twitch at his sides. “Has she always been this good with her?”

“Oh, yeah,” Pepper tells him matter-of-factly. “With her, other kids, too. She came with us to the park, and this one kid was screaming his head off and she just went over and poof! He was happy.” Her eyes are back on your slow pacing silhouette. “I would swear she was made for this. I bet she was a nanny in another life.”

His knuckles clench as her words ignite the simmering inferno of his being. Made for this, made for this, echoes in his head and he has to remind himself that he’s in public. But the primal image of you, radiating like an angel with a little piece of him growing inside you, has already carved itself in the forefront of his psyche.

Steve has never been into traditional gender roles, not even when he was in his time and it was the norm (he’s always been a very progressive thinker). But, God, he can’t deny the appeal now that he has you. There’s something so primally satisfying about having you at home, free of any worries that aren’t about your family, potentially—preferably—knocked up.

The carnal urge grips him more intensely than before. Usually, he can suppress that visceral desire to bury himself bare inside you and spill his virility until he further claims you as his. However, receiving a glimpse of you in this maternal state, it has every instinct screaming that you’re irrefutably perfect and primed.

As if on cue, you turn around with the effectively lullabied infant clinging around your neck. After a flicker of surprise, pleasant then concerned, you pad on over to carefully hand over Morgan to her thankful mother. Your attention rivets back to him with a knitted brow gaze.

“Babe, hey,” you greet in a gentle voice. Worry ebbs into your gaze amongst the usual stare of attraction upon dragging across the navy blue material that still clings to his muscular torso. You offer your hand, which he immediately takes, and you guide him out of the office into the hallway. The door shuts behind you, and the sectioned off level is empty, but your voice is still quiet when asking, “What happened?”

You stand barely a breath away, and the proximity pacifies his senses. His stance loosens while a smile upturns a corner of his mouth. “Nothing,” he answers then clarifies, “Nothing that matters anymore, anyway.”

The amendment dwindles your concerned curiosity because it’s honest—he doesn’t need to dwell when you’re standing here—and you can hear it; another lovingly scrutinizing up-and-down glance confirms that his earlier disquietude has settled significantly.

“D’you have fun back there?” he goes onto wonder, eyes flickering over to the closed door. Your earlier titillatingly visage snaps into his brain, and he subconsciously bites down on his bottom lip. “You looked like you were.”

You accept his subject-change with a nonchalant shrug. “Babies like me, and I like them,” you tell him, smiling at the admission. “What can I say?”

“I don’t know. Maybe that you want me to knock you up.” The words fumble out of his mouth before he thinks about it, and while he hadn’t intended on letting it slip, if he did, it would’ve been without the serious fluctuation he blurted it out with.

In a lame attempt to correct his slip of the tongue regarding a topic you both rarely discussed, he quickly adds, “I’m joking.” A surprised expression had crossed your features upon processing his former response, transitioning into something he can’t yet pinpoint if he likes. As if to test the waters—or dig himself into a deeper hole—he says, matter-of-factly, borderline suggestive, “But you know, back in my day, you’d probably already have a few popped out by now.”

“Mr. Rogers!” you gasp in an almost-shocked tone, but your cheeks split with a devious grin. “Are you telling me you want to be a daddy?”

Disheveled by his mission, then upended by your placating presence, he’s more awkward than the day he met you. “Fuck. Look, I’d never pressure you, okay?” For the millionth time, the previous scene plays mentally; he exhales heavily. “It’s just you with her, and I. . . never mind.” He shakes his head, deciding he’s still on the edge from both events today, and dismisses his animalistic inkling. “Act like I didn’t say anything.”

You fold your arms and nod.

“Uh-huh, daddy,” you drawl, scintillating in mischievousness that simultaneously has his heart skipping a beat and his cock jumping. Your smirk widens before disappearing beneath a cascade of feigned innocence. “We can just act like you don’t want me to have your kid.”

His lips part at your teasing twist of his words. “That’s - that’s not what I said.”

“Isn’t it?” You lift a brow. “It is. So, maybe I should find a guy who does. I think any other man would take immense pleasure in going condomless inside of me.” One hand wiggles into your jacket pocket while you peddle away from his orbit; a rectangular plastic ruffles as his reflexes instinctively catch it. “You know, I think Bucky would really appreciate me. I bet he’d have the manners to really wife me up and make me—“

He knows you’re poking fun of him; playfulness alight within your gaze that he usually enjoys. In actuality, he understands there’s zero truth in your jesting and he’d be more amused than jealous. However, currently, the circumstances have corrupted his sensibilities.

“That’s not funny.”

Your laugh echoes musically. “It’s not ‘cause it isn’t a joke,” you say between your giggles, your amusement pardoning your spacial awareness. “I mean—Steve!” Your yelp is louder and even more musical when he surges forth and reigns you in.

Air expels from your chest as his body cages yours against the wall. Using one hand to brace himself above you, his opposing appendage tilts your dazed blinking up. “Now do you really think I don’t want you to carry my kid?” he rumbles. “Because if it were up to me, I would’ve taken claim to your womb the second I saw you.”

Your breathing hitches, and you try to remain unaffected but he’s too keen on your reactions to be fooled. “O - oh?”

“Yeah.” His tongue swipes across his bottom lip. “Wanna know what makes it worse?” He leans in and trails his nose along the inviting curve of your shoulder and neck until his lips are adjacent to your ear. “My sense of smell, it tells me when your body is just ripe for the taking. It’s like you’re fucking calling me every single month—begging me to put your little pussy out of your misery. . . fuck and fuck until you’re milkin’ my kid right outta me.”

A sound, hybrid between a moan and a gasp, escapes your throat; humor eviscerated, desire exudes from you and submerges his senses in a provoking intoxication. The rush sinks into his brain and triggers that visceral frenzy within him but he has no interest in suppressing it anymore.

He releases a guttural groan and grabs your hips. His big hands splay on either side, thumb slightly kneading back and forth, and he draws you in closer. “I can smell you right now, too. Not only how wet you’re gettin’ but that it’s that time for you, isn’t it?” he purrs and nips at your lobe. “You’re mine for the taking.” His teeth catch your pulse, sucking a mark onto the vulnerable skin. “Hm, baby?”

“Y - yes!” you moan wantonly loud as your weight sags into his embrace. “Always.”

“Good—” His hands cinch on your flanks and abruptly hoist you up: prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms to encircle around his neck. “—cause holding back with you is gonna be impossible.”

With your body clutched around his abdomen, he heads for the closest empty room, scoped out via his enhanced hearing. Unceremoniously, he turns a handle and breaks the lock of the unused office space; two doors down from the main room, it’s smaller but it has a sturdy-looking desk in the center.

He kicks the door shut and sets you down as your lips find his. Although you’re sat down, legs dangling over the wooden edge, you keep your elbows hooked around the nape of his neck and coax a ragged groan out of his chest with the deft stroke of your tongue.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes and parts from you in order to yank your jacket down your shoulders. Tossing it off the side, he reveals a braless tank top and your nipples he can see have pebbled underneath. His imagination takes off once more, envisioning what the already perfect twins will look like in the wake of his seed taking root inside you.

His blood pumps viciously, flowing downward and flooding his cock to strain beneath the oppressive stealth-suit fabric. Like you’re reading his mind, you unhook the utility belt and similarly shove it off somewhere on the side.

Something rustles, and it’s the condom you’d thrown at him. Absentmindedly tucked under the cinch of the belt previously, it falls into your undressing hands. Your eyes rivet up to him, lashes fluttering big, as you hold it between two fingers: halfway offering. “What are you gonna do, daddy?”

At that particular moment, it occurs to him that you’re doubting his seriousness. While abundantly clear you want this, you’re dubious on whether he’s going through it. Which is preposterous, but he figures that the look on your face when he spills inside you bareback will only further his orgasm, consequently heightening the odds of his end-goal.

He plucks the packaging from of your grip, holds it up as your gazes clash and makes a show out of discarding it out of reach. Then he seizes your knees and slides your ass to the edge so your center is flushed against him, rocking into his hardened imprint.

“You,” he answers your query, tone a growl, as he peels your jeans off. He continues on just to shred your panties. “I’m doing you. With nothing to separate me from you, nothing to keep you from your rightful destiny: knocked up with our baby.”

“Please,” is all you utter, but the room’s thick with sensory evidence of your essence.

Spreading your thighs as far as possible, he glances down to spit lewdly on your glistening mound; a long dribble of saliva coating your eager button and slit. He uses his thumb to smear it all over, mixing with the puddle you’re creating, dipping into your sticky folds with his middle finger.

The whole time, you’re choking with these hungry and appreciative little noises. Likewise, you��re watching as he prepares you thoroughly and roughly to wring the cum out of him. “S - Steve,” you mewl coherently and buck into his messy caress. Your fingers are tugging pleading on the lower half of his uniform. “I need you. Please!”

It is about damn time.

His control has been witting away since the first time you called him daddy. He swiftly wrenches the suit down and exposes his leaking, throbbing cock to your tunnel of relief. His size always dwarfs your kempt triangle; an initial observation one might come to is the improbability he won’t fit. But he does, every single time, and in this special instance, he’s going to ensure all of his formidable length is buried in your fertile heat.

He rasps his tip over your clit, plastering his translucent white pre-cum over the engorged nub, then traces down the crease of your slit. As he prods in, his hands span your thighs and help open up your elastic entrance for his ravenous cock. He stretches your tightness slow but unyieldingly while you both watch with labored breathing, transfixed by the sight of your dripping core enveloping his veined and tanned angry stalk until he’s nudging your cervix.

“Good girl,” he grits out, strangled by the electricity prickling his nerves. He slips support underneath your ass, intertwining from the inner to the outer so when he hauls you up, your knees are bent over his elbows. “You ready to make me a daddy, baby?”

“Yes!” You nod quickly with a moan. “Shit, you’re big—and deep. Really fucking deep.”

He chuckles huskily because if you think that now, he can’t wait to see you once he’s truly plundered new depths. “Now, you just hold on tight and let me do all the work. I only want you to focus on givin’ me a baby, okay?”

In the middle of an abandoned office room—possibly a storage area—he heaves you up and drops you back down. Your arms curl around his neck, hands twisting into his suit, while he alters between gravity and his hips jutting forth to drill inside you.

Without any mind to those around you—just you and him—he fucks you with every ounce of strength coiled into his super-charged build. Ignoring the fact that door is unlocked, broken more specifically, and the possibility that there’s likely high quality surveillance cameras watching, your shared sounds of carnality fills the room in between the harsh collision of skin.

Each propelling thrust seems to jostle further than further, carving himself into your inner walls. Like he said before, he handles all the work, effortlessly bouncing your sporadically clenching channel with his inhuman strength and stamina; leaving you to accept and bask in the stimulation his cock is providing and the gift he’ll be depositing inside of you any time now.

Your lips are breathless in his ear, gasping, “Daddy, please,” that has him climbing the rope faster. The beg pours gasoline on an already roaring fire, igniting wildly to burn up his legs then his stomach and on its way to take him under.

“Y’gonna make me a daddy, baby? You’re gonna be a pretty lil’ mommy and take care of us? Is that what you want?” he croons, identifying the way you tighten as your steadily approaching orgasm. “Y’gonna have your pretty pussy squeeze me until I’m shooting my load and knocking you up?”

He’s pretty sure your nails have punctured the suit’s resilient material. “S - Steve, fuck! Please. Yes! Cum inside me—cum inside me—“ you cry out with genuine desperation that his limbs tingling numbly. “I want it. I want you. Please. I wanna feel you!”

His jaw locks and works you somehow even harder. The room is completely engulfed with you, your arousal, the potency of your ovulation, and your future with him; once he releases, it’ll only seal the fact that you’re his and belong to him (as well as vice versa).

“Who’s gonna be a daddy, baby? Who are you making a daddy, baby?” His words are practically slurred while fever coalesces across his entirety. “Who owns your pretty little pussy and your womb?”

“You—Steve—daddy,” you sob as your orgasm seizes up around his cock, giving him no other choice other than to: “Cum inside me, daddy—!”

Something beastly rips out of his chest, and without protest, he gifts you exactly what you want. He burrows into the absolute hilt and fires inside you for what feels like forever. Spurts of ooze finally wane, nudging your fruitful cervix, but even then, he doesn’t dare retreat from your heavenly depths.

The aftershocks force him to set you back down on the desk, still buried and keeping you stuffed. His face nuzzles the junction between your neck and shoulder languorously, and you lazily run your fingers through his hair, walls periodically pulsating.

When he regains the energy, he straightens and pulls out of you until his bulbous head is blocking your entrance; he stops there because he realizes something. “It’s gonna leak, and as hot as that is, I need to keep you full, baby.” Abruptly, he hauls you up and shuffles the position so that he’s sitting on the desk, and you’re sitting on his cock.

Your sensitivity flares around him, and you squeal. “F - fuck!” But you adjust to comfortability, blinking at him. “For how long?”

A smile curls into his lips, and he strokes your cheek while his other hand lays on your belly. “For as long as it takes.”

[masterlist / feedback]

#steve rogers x you smut #steve rogers imagines #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers smut #marvel reader insert #marvel smut imagines #my writing #marvel imagines #my fics #mANY ERRORS

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murdereddaydreams · 4 years

Text

I’m Addicted

Warnings: smut, praise kink, body worship, unprotected sex, cream pie, sensual sex

Content: Nishinoya Yuu x Fem!Reader

A/N: Another able to be made with the help of @noya-sannnn (now @lolliyoomi)! She's the best and honestly needs all the love! I appreciate all the help she's willing to give me! Smut begins under the song so if you ain't into that, please click away. Also wow, this is actually the longest oneshot I’ve written as of now and can I say I love romantic Noya? Give this man all the love when he’s like this!

Word Count: 1,972

How long has it been since you've been dating Nishinoya Yuu? Honestly, you couldn't answer that even if you wanted to because every year was amazing and flowed perfectly into the next. All those years also meant that you two were intimate rather often. Some times you two would indulge in everything your hearts desired, living out fantasies you had at some point in life to find out what you did and didn't like. Other times, though this was a running theme at all times, Nishinoya was just utterly mesmerized by you. His eyes would get a shimmer when he looked at you, a shimmer of just amazement and pure love. Even when his pupils were blown from lust, he still looked at you with so much love. This man basically worshipped the ground you walked on and at first it made you feel a little uneasy. That was simply because it was brand new treatment to you but you quickly grew to love it. Being with him meant that you were going to be treated like the queen he saw you as. He was addicted to you, you feeling the same for him, and he needed his daily fix of you even if it didn't always mean sex. You were everything he ever wanted in a woman without a doubt, providing everything he desired without ever having to mention it to you. You just knew and it made his addiction stronger.

Tonight was one of those nights, a night he went all out just for you. Candles were lit in the bedroom, bringing a soft light to the room, as he spread a few rose petals on the bed. He knew you didn't ask for all of this but did that stop Nishinoya? Not in the slightest. He was wild to say the least, always having more energy than he could control but you were able to completely calm him. You were able to make him take things at a normal pace - slow to him though - and it was nice to have that effect on him. What was one of his favorite ways of showing you that result? Being able to just go nice and slow with you in the bedroom. When that thought would get into his mind, this was the result. He was ripped out of his thoughts when he heard the front door open, calling out to you to let you know that he was in the bedroom waiting for you. Curious, you shuffled into the room and smiled when you saw his surprise. It wasn't anything new to you but it didn't mean you loved it any less. It was the little things that mattered the most to you and this was one of them.

"I love you." His voice got your attention, making you turn to look at him as he closed the distance between the two of you. His short stature didn't change the fact he had gotten to you in about two strides. His arms wrapping around your waist as he stared into your eyes with pure love and adoration. The look was overwhelming but it made your heart flutter each and every time. Your own arms wrapped around his shoulders, foreheads coming together in a moment of silence.

"I love you too." It was as if your declaration was enough to trigger him, his lips finding yours in an instant with a passion he held only for you. Lips dancing in perfect harmony as hands roamed to feel every inch of skin whether it be exposed or not, you both blindly going to the bed. Your legs hit the mattress first, causing you to fall back onto it with him now hovering above you. His lips pulled away from yours, his eyes taking in every feature of your face before he would peck your lips. Giving butterfly kisses, he traveled along your jaw and down to your neck. The way your breath hitched was more than enough to encourage him to keep going. He had learned your body, learned when something was liked and when something wasn't. He definitely paid close attention, living for the moments you would tell him how good he was making you feel. From the way you began to squirm, he knew that you were getting just as worked up as he was. That's when he decided you were both wearing far too much, deciding that you should be the one to get undressed first. Reluctantly, he removed himself from that spot on your neck. He started with your shirt, slipping it above your head as his fingers dragged along your skin. Every time he looked at you, it was as if it was the first time, his eyes taking in your whole body before his hand would quietly ask you for permission to take off your bra. Your response was an equally quiet one, back arching up enough to allow him to unclasp the garment from your body. He didn’t hesitate to pick up on your cue and handled the clips with practiced ease.

“You’re so beautiful. You have the body of a goddess.” No matter how often he said such things, they still managed to make you blush. It didn’t help that he would quickly follow it up by kissing every inch of your freshly exposed skin. Nishinoya broke away only to take his own shirt off before he would continue his mission of marking up your body. No one would be able to believe you if you said this was the same man that basically jumped off the walls every hour of the day. He was acting so different, his actions calmer and with intention unlike his usual self that was spontaneous and borderline reckless. He made sure to let you know just how much he loved you, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes.

“Yuu… will you please hurry?” Your hand had found a home in his hair, nails lightly scratching against his scalp as he was spending far too long in the area right above your waist band. You loved when he took his time but you had been having rather inappropriate thoughts about your boyfriend the whole day. Much like he was with you, you were equally addicted to him. You found yourself craving his touch, craving to hear his voice, just craving anything to do involving him if you could get it. Your plea didn’t fall on deaf ears thankfully, knowing if he had been in a much more dominant mood that he would have ignored you without a second thought.

“Just because I want it as much as you do…” He mumbled the words against your skin, one hand unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans. Standing back up once again, he gently tugged down the clothing along with your panties with a little help from you when you had to wiggle to get them past your hips. Now that he had you completely naked, he definitely made sure to stare. The way he stared, the hunger in his eyes mixed with the love he had for you made you flush, your hand raising off the bed to wave in front of him to get him to continue. All this did was have him give you a grin and a low chuckle. “I can’t help it, I get extremely distracted. I can’t believe someone like you is with me, angel.”

“Shut up, I’m the lucky one. For having a man who treats me like a queen and knows perfectly well how to please me.” Now that was the perfect way to rile him up, feeding into his ego. He loved your praise, even when it was outside of being intimate. Maybe it was because he loved knowing that you were proud of him, that you were in a way, deeming him worthy of being with you in his eyes. There was an impatience present in the two of you yet that didn’t change that you wanted to take your time with each other. Eyes never leaving your face, his hand gripped his length as he lightly ran it along your slit, gathering your slick before he lined up with your entrance. Gently, he began to press into your core, giving you a second to adjust to every added inch until he was fully bottomed out inside of you. Eyes shut, hands finding a home on his forearms once he placed his hands on your hips, knowing damn well that you would never be fully prepared for his size. As always, Nishinoya leaned down and began to pepper your face with kisses before his lips would move further down. They found a home on your breasts, marking you with minor hickies as his claim that you were his. “Go.” That single word was all he needed to hear before his hips began to pull him out of your heat before he would move forward once again, burying himself completely where you needed him the most. This was kept up for some time before he settled on a comfortable pace, one that offered the best depth with his thrusts and a speed that was a little faster than most would consider for “love making”. This was what worked for the two of you, your tried and true that could never bore you.

“Ah, Yuu, you feel so good…” You purred out the compliment naturally, body being receptive to his touch and actions. No one else would ever see this side of you, not when you had a strong craving for the one currently above you. No one else would ever suffice, no one else would fill you how he did, touch you how he knew how to, how to bring you over the edge every time without having to pretend. Like magic, the praise caused his hips to pick up speed, hands angling your hips just enough to hit that sweet spot inside of you. A sharp inhale was your response, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck and bring him close to you as your legs locked around his waist to force him to go deeper. The way you were moaning out his name, the way you cried out to him, the way you got lost in him completely, was slowly bringing him to his end. He was a gentleman though, knowing he had to have you reach your high before he could reach his own, causing him to slip a hand between the both of you in between your thighs. Fingers expertly working the bundle of nerves that would push you closer to the edge. As if by clockwork, that knot in your stomach began to build, growing tighter and tighter to the point of snapping. The feeling of your velvet walls clenching and unclenching around him signaling he was doing exactly what you need. He got off to you getting off, hearing you scream out his name was a melody he would never tire from. Without warning, the two of you called out to each other in perfect harmony. His hips stilling as he spilled his seed inside of you, your walls fluttering around his girth as if trying to milk him. His fingers slowed on your clit, finally reaching a stop so you could ride out your highs together. When everything felt normal once again, he collapsed on the bed beside you, looking over at you with a grin. Without hesitation, you moved to straddle his lap, a grin of your own on your face.

“Another round?” Your question had an obvious answer, especially when his hands landed on your hips once again and you can feel him begin to spring back to life underneath you.

“Of course, you know I’m addicted to my girl!”

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recollins · 4 years

Text

Jealousy 101 (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Request: Do you mind doing professor!Reid and reader that are dating and she’s in her class and all the other girls are trying to hit on him and ofc Spencer is oblivious to it but reader is getting jealous and spencer has to reassure her that he doesnt care for them and only her 🥺 make it as long as you want, honestly longer the better hahah thanks so much I love your work! Pairing: Professor!Spencer x Female Reader Words: 4,668 Content: Smut Warnings: Jealousy, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before ya tap it, y'all) Masterlist

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Large, gentle hands slid around your waist from behind, tugging you back into a gentle hold. Spencer propped his chin on your shoulder, studying your reflection in the mirror with you as you smoothed down your skirt.

“Are you going for naughty schoolgirl today?” your boyfriend murmured, lips brushing your ear before moving to kiss the base of your jaw. You tipped your head back onto his shoulder, smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Well I am one, aren’t I, Professor Reid?” you said slowly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. Pressed against his chest, you could feel the hitch of his breath at the name you used. Before answering, he trailed hungry kisses down your neck, tugging your blouse aside to nip at your shoulder.

A moan slipped out of you and on instinct you leaned back into his hold; his arms tightened around your waist and you felt him smile against your skin. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, (Y/N).”

Turning in his arms, you tipped your head back to peek up at him through your lashes, coy smile curling over your lips. Spencer slowly lifted a brow at you, knowing exactly the kind of trouble this look held for him.

“Who says I can’t finish?”

You didn’t miss the tightening of his jaw or the hard swallow he gave as his eyes flicked over your shoulder, studying your body in the mirror. Those large hands of his slid down your back, taking handfuls of your ass through your skirt. “I say. We have class in twenty minutes, and neither of us can afford to be late again. You know better than to tease me.”

Biting back the smirk that threatened to break free, you pressed your hands against his chest to push him back, stepping out of the hold he tried to pull you back into. You cocked your head to the side, tapping a finger thoughtfully against your chin as you hmm’d and sauntered back.

“Do I? Huh. Must’ve slipped my mind. You’ll just have to remind me, Professor.”

“(Y/N),” he growled in warning, hand falling to palm at the growing bulge in his slacks. His normally honey-brown eyes had darkened to a dangerous, hungry shadowed amber, sending a shiver of desire through you that you knew he saw.

“Sorry, I’ve got to go. You’ll have to remind me later,” you teased, snagging your bag and then scampering out of Spencer’s apartment before he could come after you. Thankfully, your boyfriend had off-campus housing this year. When you’d started dating last fall, it’d been a pain trying to sneak in and out of his place when he lived in the faculty housing.

It was hard to believe that you’d been with Spencer for almost eighteen months now. Truth be told, you hadn’t been looking for a relationship when you’d started college last year. Quite the opposite, actually. You’d just gone through a pretty rough breakup with your high school sweetheart, and the thought of dating anyone was the last thing on your mind.

And then lo and behold, your very first day, Dr. Spencer Reid had walked into your criminal psychology class and you’d been totally and helplessly lost to the illegally handsome man at the front of the class. To be fair, you really tried to resist him, but how could you when you had to stare at that painfully attractive man for ninety minutes every Tuesday and Thursday for months on end?

It wasn’t your fault you’d spent more time focusing on his deliciously long fingers than you did on what he was presenting. And don’t even get started on his tongue. He just couldn’t keep it in his mouth for more than a few minutes at a time, and that just did things to you, okay? You never stood a chance resisting him.

So, like the smooth flirt you were, you started making excuses to see him. It’d started simple enough: staying a few minutes past to have him explain a scenario you already fully understood, asking him to go over the requirements for your essay that you’d already finished… When that didn’t satisfy your craving for the delicious doctor, you’d starting stopping by during his office hours to ask him any question you could possibly think of.

Hell, one week you’d purposely not taken any notes you’d needed for the test next class, and Spencer had kept you in his office for over an hour as he ran through the slides again – one on one – making sure you had everything you needed.

Really, you’d been playing your hand pretty well. Or so you thought.

Just a few months into the semester, when you’d stopped by for the third time that week, Spencer had invited you to sit as he always did, but when you asked him for a recap on what to do for the midterm coming up, he folded his hands on his desk and leveled you with a sharp gaze that rooted you to the seat beneath you.

“Miss (Y/L/N), I know you’re not here about the midterm.” You’d blinked in alarm, stunned he’d instantly call you out like he had, but unable to say anything because, y’know, he had a point. “Would you care to tell me why you’ve been by to visit me more than any other student in any of my classes?”

Huh, more than anyone else? Well, you gave yourself a mental pat on the back for that little achievement. Not that it was really a help to you right now, but still.

“I’m, uh, I just – I wanted you to –“

“Wanted me to what, Miss (Y/L/N)?” he’d cut in, that sinfully distracting tongue flicking out over his lower lip. Your eyes shamelessly followed the movement, and only when you saw the smirk on his face did your eyes snap back to his.

“I… wanted you to myself,” you practically whispered, eyes instantly falling to your lap when you’d realized what you’d said. It was completely inappropriate, you knew that. Crushing on your professor was one thing, but sitting here admitting that after you’d practically been borderline harassing him for the better part of two months?

So when his hand reached out and those tantalizing fingers tipped your chin up so he could meet your eyes again, you were stunned to see the hungry look in his eyes. The hungry look he fixed you with did nothing to slow your beating heart, your racing mind that was spinning out of control with the thoughts you’d been trying to hold back all semester.

One moment you’d been staring each other down, daring one another to make the first move, and the next minute Spencer had practically dragged you onto his desk and had his way with you. Not that you’d minded one bit – the bruises on your hips from his eager hands had stayed deliciously dark against your skin for almost a week, and he’d made sure to leave plenty more in their place after that.

Keeping things secret hadn’t been too bad at first. It was a fun little secret between the two of you. It had been fun and exciting to spend all class eye-fucking each other across the room and then letting Spencer bend you over his desk almost immediately afterwards.

The summer had been even better, because you and Spencer had all the time in the world to yourselves. You’d told your parents you had to stay at school for summer classes, and once Spencer had moved off-campus, you practically lived at his apartment.

The memories of hot, sleepless nights beneath the sheets with Spencer kept you occupied on your walk to class, but the moment you entered the lecture hall the smile fell off your face. Half the seats were filled with women you knew weren’t even in this class. Believe it, you’d checked. Twice.

The only reason they flocked here was to ogle Spencer, and it drove you absolutely crazy. Not only did they only want to spend ninety minutes flirting with your boyfriend, they didn’t even care about what he was teaching. It was disruptive, disrespectful, and downright rude. And it wasn’t just because they were all trying to seduce your boyfriend. Mostly.

Instead of taking your normal seat at the front, you settled a few rows back to plant yourself in the middle of the scattered girls. You normally weren’t one to get jealous, but they’d been playing this game for over a month now and it was pushing you closer and closer to an edge you didn’t know you’d had.

“Like, I’ve never seen anyone look as hot as he did yesterday wearing a sweater vest,” one of the girls behind you gushed; you tensed immediately. Of course they were talking about Spencer. He was the only one who could get sexy and sweater vest in a sentence together. “I missed my test in Biology but it was so worth it to see him yesterday.”

The pencil in your hand nearly snapped in two. They were skipping classes now to see him when you weren’t there?! It was one thing showing up during free period, but this was getting ridiculous. And having them here without you to keep an eye on their inappropriate behavior?

Deep breaths, (Y/N), you growled to yourself, focusing on pulling out your notebook and getting ready to, you know, actually learn in the class. If you weren’t careful your pencil was gonna end up through someone’s neck today.

Not moments later though, you heard excited whispering spark through the seats and a few girls in front of you had the audacity to whine, “oh my god he looks so fuckable today!”

Instantly your gaze snapped up; Spencer had just walked in.

Trust me, I know. That’s what I almost got to do with him, you muttered, your eyes following your boyfriend as he stepped up onto the stage. His eyes fell instantly to the front row and you saw his brow furrow just a hint.

His gaze swept over the seats in concern until his gaze locked onto you. A small, almost imperceptible smile flickered over his lips as soon as he saw you were there, and it helped to settle the burning jealousy raging inside of you. Out of all the other women there, he was only worried about you.

Of course, that feeling died out pretty damn fast as soon as class began. From every side of you all you caught were the girls dirty whispering. You couldn’t even focus on Spencer’s lecture because every two seconds there was another giggle or another not-so-hushed whisper of, “look at how long his fingers are!... His tongue is driving me wild oh my god!... look at how big his feet are. Can you imagine how big his –“

Your pencil actually did snap. The noise startled both yourself and a few of the girls scattered around you, enough to draw Spencer’s attention. When he caught sight of your expression, concern flitted over his ridiculously attractive features. You tried to push the scowl aside but at this point it was a permanent look. Spencer’s eyes narrow just a hint, tongue poking out over his lower lip briefly. You knew that face; he was profiling you.

Not wanting him to be too concerned, you gave him a small smile. He returned the favor before returning to the lecture, wandering back across the stage. Taking as deep a breath you could, you really tried to tune them out. After all, you were one of the few in attendance that actually had to worry about what Spencer was teaching.

Of course, if you asked him to, he’d gladly give you a one-on-one tutoring session. This time you lost focus thinking about the last tutoring session your boyfriend had given you. One that had quickly morphed into Professor Reid teaching you exactly how to take his cock all the way down your throat like the good girl you were –

No. Focus. You need to know this stuff! You snapped to yourself, pulling out of your extremely distracting fantasies. For the next half hour, you managed to force yourself to block out the whispers around you as you fought to listen. You’d almost fully forgotten there were dozens of girls all around you vying for your boyfriend until a girl behind you said excitedly,

“After class I’m so making a move on him.”

You almost lost another fucking pencil.

Breathing hard, trying to keep from whipping around and punching her square in the face, you listened to the plan she concocted to seduce Spencer the moment the lecture was over. Now you completely understood the phrase seeing red.

To be completely honest, you weren’t sure if it was just because she was making moves on your boyfriend, or if it was because it’s exactly what you’d done last year. What if it worked on him? What if he was hit on by a younger, prettier girl this time and you were pushed aside? Normally your insecurities didn’t come out with Spencer. Even with an almost fifteen-year age gap, he’d never made you feel unwanted or like he was out of your league – though you’d told him several times you certainly felt that way. He was amazing at reassuring you just how much you meant to him, just how attracted he was to you, reminding you just how gorgeous you were…

Your self-conscious thoughts floated to the front of your mind, and you felt tears actually starting to prick your eyes. She just kept going, talking about all she had in mind with Spencer… If you didn’t pull yourself out of this soon you’d either be leaving here in tears or in handcuffs, and you weren’t one to cry in public.

It was as if Spencer was tuned to your thoughts. Like he knew you needed a distraction, needed just a little reassurance from him to get you through the last fifteen minutes of class. Finally done with his presentation, he clicked off the projector (taking a little longer than necessary because he and technology didn’t see eye to eye) and turned to the class and asked,

“Can anyone tell me a few of the differences between male and female arsonists?”

Normally you didn’t like speaking up in class, but you needed him focusing on you now. Though you hadn’t really focused through most of the class, this was thankfully something you were familiar enough with. Spencer caught the movement of your arm going up, and though he was clearly surprised he turned and smiled.

“Yes, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

“Female arsonists are typically older than males, and are more likely to have a psychiatric diagnoses. Women also more frequently have a history of sexual abuse, while men have a tendency towards substance abuse problems.”

There it was, the flicker of pride in his gaze that instantly set your body burning with desire. He gave you an impressed nod, holding your gaze without blinking as he said slowly, “that’s very good, Miss (Y/L/N). Well done.”

His praise warmed you through, pushing out the ache of jealousy. You smiled back at him, pointedly drawing the end of your pencil between your lips to nibble lightly as you slowly crossed one of your legs over the other.

You caught the tensing of his jaw but, ever the professional, he stamped out the hungry smirk he’d normally give you as he turned to address the rest of the class instead. As the minutes ticked by, though, you noticed his gaze kept coming back to you. Every few minutes, his eyes would flick back, sweeping over your body for the briefest moment before he had to look away.

Every look made you squirm, your panties dangerously damp by the time he finally said, “I think that’s all for today. Be sure to read chapter seven before Thursday.”

Most of the class filed out of the lecture hall immediately. You took your time packing your things away, pointedly keeping an eye on the group of girls that approached Spencer at the front of the room.

“Excuse me, Professor Reid?” the girl up front cooed sweetly, twirling a lock of hair as she stared up at him. Your blood boiled instantly and now you couldn’t even pretend you were doing anything other than eavesdropping.

Spencer, ever polite, looked up at her with a friendly smile as he gathered his journals into his satchel. “Can I help you?”

“Well, I hope so. I was really interested in what you were saying about arsonists but it kind of went over my head,” she giggled, shrugging her shoulders bashfully. “Do you think you and I could meet later so you could help me… get a better grasp?”

Spencer’s eyes studied her for a heartbeat, and then they flicked to you. The instant understanding that settled in his gaze told you he realized exactly what had been bothering you all class. As he looked back at the girl, he slipped his bag onto his shoulder and stepped off the stage, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“I’m sorry, but I only offer study sessions with students who are actually enrolled in my class,” he dismissed. Her giggle died out, and you saw a frown come over her face as Spencer added, “actually, if you’d excuse me, I’m late for one right now. Miss (Y/L/N)?”

Surprised to hear your name, you met his eyes as he turned towards you, waiting patiently at the bottom of the seats. Quickly scooping up your bag, you all but scampered down the steps and fell into step beside him as he led the way out of the lecture hall.

The two of you were silent as he unlocked his office, stepping aside to let you in. You heard the door shut behind you, and then the lock clicked into place. The sound send a rush of desire straight to your core.

“Come here.” It wasn’t a demand, his voice was too gentle for that, but you knew he left no room for argument. You dropped your bag beside one of the chairs and turned to him, instantly tucking yourself to his chest. His arms went tight around you and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You had no reason to be jealous, you know. You’re so beautiful I couldn’t see anything else.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you mumbled, and instantly Spencer pulled back. He took your chin between his fingers and tipped your head back to fix you with a stern stare.

“You know I don’t like being lied to, (Y/N).”

You couldn’t hold back the whine at the tone of his voice and it didn’t go unnoticed. “I wasn’t jealous. I was protective. Jealous means wanting something I can’t have, and I already have you. You’re mine, not theirs. I don’t like hearing them talk about you like you belong to them –“

Spencer’s lips crashed onto yours, cutting off your angry rant before it could even get going. Spencer’s arms tightened around you as he walked you back towards his desk. Your legs hit the edge of the desk and instantly he spun you in his arms, pulling your back flush against his chest.

His already-hard cock pressed against your ass and on instinct you rolled your hips back towards him. He let out a low growl, lips falling to your jaw like they had just a few hours ago. This time, his kisses didn’t stop. He slowly moved down your neck, pausing briefly to nip at the skin before running his tongue across to soothe the sting. You whimpered at every pinch of his teeth, writhing in his arms.

He kept one arm tight around your waist to pin you against him as the other hand came up to palm roughly at your breasts. He deftly undid the buttons of your blouse with one hand – which was a lot hotter than it should’ve been – and in moments he was pushing it off your shoulders as he tugged your bra down.

His large hands enveloped one of your breasts, finger gently pinching and tugging at your nipples until he had you moaning softly beneath his touch.

“They don’t mean a thing to me,” he murmured, lips coming up to brush against your ear, nipping softly at the base of your jaw. “They can say what they want to say, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re the only one for me, (Y/N).”

“Spencer,” you moaned as the arm around your waist finally let up so he could slide his hand under your skirt. His hips rocked subtly against your ass as he cupped your core, his palm pressing down and grinding slowly over your clothed clit.

Your hand wrapped over his wrist and gently you tugged him up just enough to guide those long, slim fingers into your panties. Spencer let out a low, eager grown as he ran his hand over your folds, biting down into your shoulder just this side of painful as you began to rock yourself against his touch. Normally you’d go slower, enjoy the buildup, but Spencer only had fifteen minutes before your next class and this time you weren’t walking away without fucking your boyfriend.

Slowly, he pressed a single finger into you and you gasped in pleasure, dropping your head back against his shoulder. He set a slow, tantalizing pace that had you rolling your hips down against his hand, desperate for more.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, slipping a second finger inside of you. With a gasp, you rocked down hard and said desperately,

“You, Spence. I want you. I need you.”

“Who do you need?”

“I – I need you, Professor,” you whined softly, not wanting to be too loud just in case one of his overeager fangirls came by his office for some alone time. The thought of them doing so – and then stumbling onto you getting pounded over Spencer’s desk – had you quivering around his fingers.

As you’d hoped, Spencer pulled his hand away, purposefully dragging over your clit and getting another desperate gasp from you. When you looked back to pout up at him, you froze in surprise. Spencer held your gaze with his lust-darkened eyes as he slipped his soaked fingers into his mouth, sucking them off slowly.

“Bend over,” he ordered, voice rough with need. You did as you were told, laying yourself over his desk and pressing back against his aching cock. With a growl, he pushed your skirt up over your hips and ripping down your panties. Both of you were too worked up for any more teasing.

He slid the head of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your slick before grabbing your hips to slowly ease himself into you. Both of you let out low, aching groans as he buried himself completely inside you. He kept one hand on your hip and the other splayed out over your lower back, holding you in place as he slowly began to move.

With each thrust he pushed you harder and harder into the desk until it was shaking beneath you, papers beginning to spill off. You were fighting to stay quiet but Spencer knew exactly how to fuck you in order to bring out the whimpers you couldn’t help.

“You take my cock so well,” he grunted, the fingers around your hip digging in so hard you knew there’d be bruises by tonight. “So perfect for me – fuck. You’re all I need.”

“You’re mine,” you moaned, arching back against him, desperate to take him as deep as you could. “Only mine – oh god, Spencer!”

He’d stealthily pulled his hand off your back and slid it around to run his thumb over your swollen clit. He grunted as your walls clenched around him; you weren’t gonna last much longer.

“Only yours,” he promised, voice rough as he pounded into you, swirling his thumb over your aching bud. “Come for me. Come on my cock, (Y/N). Show me who I belong to.”

His words shoved you over the edge unexpectedly fast and you gave a choked moan as your body writhed over the desk, lost to your orgasm. Spencer pulled his thumb back as he felt you come down but his pace didn’t slow. You could feel his cock throbbing against you, he was so close.

“You belong to me,” you rasped, clinging to the desk as you looked back over your shoulder to stare up at him. There was no other word for Spencer at that moment besides beautiful. His curls were wild, mouth hanging open, chest heaving beneath his ridiculously attractive sweater vest.

His dark eyes met yours and as soon as they did you felt his rhythym slip. His hips stuttered, and with a low groan he fully buried into you once more, filling you up as he came hard inside of you. Fully spent, he collapsed over your back, barely catching himself on his forearm, head dropping to your shoulder.

The two of you stayed still, tangled with each other, until your breathing finally slowed. Pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, Spencer pulled out of you. As you went to stand, he gently pressed you back against the desk.

“Stay right there, sweetheart.”

You heard him grabbing a few tissues, and gently he cleaned you up, careful not to brush too hard over your sensitive core. Once clean, he knelt and slid your panties back up, kissing up your legs slowly before he stood. You finally pushed up from his desk with a groan and instantly his arms went around your waist to help you stand and get your balance.

Now that it was all said and done, you couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous for getting so jealous over the other girls. Spencer’s arms came around you again, and you could feel the question in his hold.

“Thank you for that,” you said softly, tipping your head to look up at him. “I know… I mean, I don’t doubt you love me. It’s just nice to be reminded after listening to them all class.”

“I’m glad you don’t doubt my love for you. I never want you to forget how much you mean to me,” he said honestly, dipping to give you a soft kiss. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. After this class, I’ll be speaking with the head of the department to make sure only students enrolled in the class can sit in on my lectures.”

A slow, surprised grin took over your face. “You’d really do that? I thought it looked better for you to have the lecture hall full –“

“I don’t care how it looks. I care how you feel and I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel like this.”

Your arms wrapped around Spencer’s neck and his went around your waist, kissing sweetly as you smiled against each other’s lips. Though you broke apart, Spencer tucked you tight to his chest and you buried your face against his shoulder.

“I actually am gonna need one of Professor Reid’s study sessions before Thursday, though,” you mumbled into his jacket. “I… didn’t catch most of what you said today.”

Spencer stifled a sigh as he stepped back, giving you a mildly chastising frown. You caught the smile in his eyes as the two of you grabbed your bags and he unlocked the door. He started down one hall and you down the other, but he paused to call out pointedly,

“Come see me after class then, Miss (Y/L/N). I’ll make sure you pay attention this time.”

With a smirk, you looked back at him over your shoulder, enjoying the way his eyes were already starting to dark again as he watched you walk away, calling back to him teasingly,

“Yes, Professor.”

The smile he left you with promised you’d be paying for that comment later.

#Spencer Reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #female reader #Spencer Reid x female reader #criminal minds #Spencer reid #Spencer Reid fanfic #Spencer Reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid imagine #professor!reid #jealous reader #criminal minds self insert #imagines #request #rea writes

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babyflossy · 4 years

Text

ice cream | j.ww

gif credits to owner

pairing: wonwoo x reader

requested: yes! requests are still open mainly for nct, seventeen and ateez but i can probably write for others!

summary: when wonwoo’s babysitter cancels on him, you offer to look after his daughter despite the fact you have zero experience with children.

genre: single parents au, fluff

warnings: unedited

word count: 1.7k

when wonwoo's babysitter cancels on him at seven am on a thursday, he thinks his week can't get any worse. he's already had to dodge difficult clients and reschedule a whole day’s meetings after his three-year-old daughter, heejin, was sick and he had to stay home. that thought is proved incorrect, however, when he clips heejin into her car seat and he sees her bottom lip start to wobble. sighing loudly seems to only make the little girl more upset and before he can comfort her, the tears are already streaming down her face.

"hey, hey, hey," he soothes, wiping his fingers on the delicate skin under her eyes. "it's okay, sweetheart, daddy's bringing you to work today," wonwoo wracks his brain for something to cheer her up, at least until he gets to his office. "how about we get ice cream for lunch? would that cheer you up?"

he almost amazed at how ice cream seems to always solve heejin's toughest problems. warm relief floods his system as she stops sniffling and beams at him, her large eyes shining up at him.

"there we go, you have to be a good girl, though. can you do that for daddy?" she nods vigorously, clutching her fluffy bunny toy in her hands.

as it turns out, the ice cream promise can only work for so long, and as soon as wonwoo steps into the elevator, heejin clinging to his leg, her tears start falling again. he lifts her up, perching her on his hip as he tries to calm her cries. he wraps his arms tighter around her, pulling her into a comforting hug.

the last thing you expect to see when you're frantically trying to fit another consultation into wonwoo's schedule is a toddler in the office. let alone a toddler clung to your boss, crying into his neck. you freeze momentarily, confused, but are broken out of your stupor when the person on the other end of the phone starts shouting at you.

"i'm very sorry, mr montgomery, but mr jeon's schedule is completely full for the next week," the man in question shoots you an apologetic smile as he passes, trying not to laugh at the bewildered expression on your face. "i can fit you in for early next week, or i can defer you to another lawyer?"

after your borderline traumatic conversation, you decide to find wonwoo and ask him what the hell was going on. unsurprisingly, he's sat in his office, but instead of him in the chair behind his desk the little girl from earlier sits there, her body engulfed by the dark brown leather. she's still crying, her sobs getting louder and louder the longer you stand in his doorway. you're not sure if you should knock, you usually don't bother but the way he's crouched in front of her, offering her a reassuring smile, seems personal.

"i didn't know it was bring your child to work day," you start, walking a few steps inside the office before stopping, unsure how to act. "i would've brought my cat."

wonwoo chuckles and stands, accepting the slim brown file you hand him, flicking the first page open as you try not to stare at his child. you hadn't even been aware wonwoo had children until this moment. he still hasn't actually said it's his daughter, but the slope of her nose and the sparkle in her wide eyes confirm your suspicions.

"her babysitter cancelled this morning; the replacement is coming here at two." his words are distracted as he frowns at the busy day he has. he had been hoping it would be quick day so he could take heejin home and put a disney movie on for her to watch, maybe cook her favour food as a peace offering.

"ah, i see." you weren't quite sure why it was so jarring to find out wonwoo had kids. perhaps you should've known by the way your heart deflated slightly when you realised the kid must have a mother somewhere.

he looks up at you at your voice, frowning not unkindly. "i know it's inconvenient, but there was nowhere else she could go." the way he says it makes guilt flush through you and you immediately try to change your attitude.

"no, no, it's fine," the bags under his eyes don't do anything to make you feel better. "what's her name?"

"heejin," he smiles at her and you nearly melt, "she's nearly four. but she has a tendency to never stop crying when she starts. i think she's just scared."

walking up the chair, you crouch down and offer her your warmest smile, holding out your hand to her. "hi, heejin, my name's y/n, i work with your daddy." her cries stop, and she stares at you in what looks like confusion, but you were never good with kids. wonwoo holds his breath and waits for her to start screaming like she usually did with strangers, but he's shocked when heejin matches your smile. your eyes widen when her tiny hand clasps the ends of your fingers, an innocent giggle making your smile widen.

when you stand back up, the shock still on wonwoo's face makes you laugh. the file in his hand catches your eye again and you would regret if you didn't offer to help later. "do you want me to watch her for you? i can work in here, you have meetings to get to."

"you know i'm only making you do this because i'm desperate, right? i'm so sorry, i'll make sure you get a bonus for this," are the last words he says before he kisses heejin's forehead and rushes off to his first meeting, shooting you one last grateful smile on the way out.

once heejin had completely calmed down, she was quite easy to deal with. you were typing away on your laptop, replying to emails and starting to sort out the cases you and wonwoo would have to deal with over the next few weeks. heejin was sat on your lap, colouring a tiger you had printed off for her, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. thankfully, no one knocked on wonwoo's office door for the whole morning except mingyu, who apparently heejin already knew and loved.

the surprise on his face wore off quickly when she shouted in glee. "uncle mingyu!" she called, dropping the orange colouring pencil and waving her arms up for him. he shot you a questioning look over her head as he picked her up, throwing her up in and catching her a few times. you mouthed the words babysitter cancelled at him and he nodded in understanding.

"hello heejin-ah, what are you doing here?" mingyu's voice was theatrically positive and you had to stop yourself form laughing at your usually serious co-worker playing with a tiny little girl.

"daddy said i had to come to work with him, but then he promised me ice cream for lunch," you never thought ice cream could make a child so happy.

"well if he promised then i guess you should get excited," he patted her hair down as he sat perched on his waist, "are you having fun with y/n?"

the cold wash of nerves surprised you as you waited for her to answer. "yes!" you breathed a sigh of relief, "she showed me pictures of her kitten! daddy won't let me get a kitten!" mingyu raised an eyebrow at you but you pretended to be busy on your laptop.

after mingyu left, heejin went back to colouring, only raising her head to complain she was hungry every now and then. wonwoo's meeting was supposed to have finished five minutes ago, so you told her he was coming to stop her complaining.

when he finally did turn up his hair was dishevelled from raking his hand through it and his tie was loosened around his neck. heejin jumped from you lap and ran up to him, hugging her arms around the bottom of his leg. "hi, princess, you ready for ice cream?" he asked as he picked her up.

"can y/n come?" your eyes widened at her question and you could feel your cheeks heat up. wonwoo seemed just as surprised, giving her what you thought was a warning look. his eyes softened when she whined his name. "daddy, please?"

his eyebrows were raised to you in question and you stumbled over a response, unsure what you were supposed to say. "i wouldn't want to intrude–"

"nonsense, she's normally shy around strangers, so she must really like you." your cheeks blazed further at the thinly veiled compliment and you nodded.

heejin was distracted on the walk to the ice cream store, watching the people pass by, and you took the opportunity to ask what you had been burning to the whole day. "i didn't know you had kids," you started, thinking on how best to bring up the topic.

luckily you didn't have to explicitly ask. "i don't tell many people, i guess. her mother left as soon as she was born, it's always just been the two of us." nodding in understanding, you hated the way your heart felt that little bit lighter knowing he was still single. the worker asking for your orders saved you from thinking of an appropriate response.

finding a seat was easy as the shop was quite empty for lunchtime. wonwoo had insisted on paying for your ice cream, claiming it was repaying you for looking over heejin, even though you told him again and again you had enjoyed it. heejin was too focused on her ice cream to pay attention to either of you.

"so, uh," wonwoo started and you didn't fail to notice the slight pinking of his cheeks. "do you have anyone special at home?" his words were awkward, and he watched you try not to laugh.

"no, it's kinda difficult to meet people with such long hours."

he nodded in understanding, trying to calm his heartbeat, hating how he felt like a teenager about to ask out his crush. the ice cream on your spoon slipped back into the pot as you swirled it around, waiting with bated breath for his next words.

"did you want to maybe, go for dinner sometime?"

"i'd love that."

a/n: i haven’t written for seventeen since like september so this was really fun! and it made me miss them :(

#wonwoo imagines #wonwoo imagine #wonwoo x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #jeon wonwoo imagines #jeon wonwoo au #wonu imagines #wonwoo au #seventeen #seventeen au #seventeen single parent au #kim mingyu #wonwoo

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mulletpeters · 3 years

Text

toothache of the mind

ship: peterpatter

rating: g

word count: 1938

tags: canon compliant, pre-canon, high school, 1990s, best friends, feelings realization, pining

Reggie gets braces for his sweet sixteen.

He doesn’t tell anyone―not even his best friends in the whole wide world. So when he walks into homeroom the Tuesday after his birthday, Luke nearly topples out of his chair at the sight of the metal wrapped around Reggie’s adorable little snaggletooth. Alex may or may not be hyperventilating, but Luke wouldn’t know. He’s distracted.

Reggie, for his part, is acting like Luke’s world hasn’t just been tilted on its axis in a dangerous way. “Hey, guys,” he says nonchalantly. “Sup?”

Alex recovers much quicker than Luke, though there’s still a glint of concern in his eyes. They both know how self-conscious Reggie can be, especially about his smile, so he treads carefully. “Hey, Reginald. Do anything fun for your birthday?”

They had their own party on Friday after school―Luke gave Reggie a new studded strap for his bass because the one he’d found in Bobby’s garage had started to look pretty sad―but Reggie’s parents are the type to force family time onto him any chance they get. Luke has a sneaking suspicion they only do it so they can use Reggie against each other in whatever asinine argument comes up that day, but it’s not like he can really do anything about it. None of them can, so Reggie is unfortunately left to his own devices when it comes to compulsory dysfunctional family celebrations. “Not really,” he says in lieu of giving any actual details; he’ll tell them eventually, but a crowded classroom is not ideal for dishing out his personal drama. “Got braces.” He shrugs, like his mom hasn’t made him feel like shit about his less than perfect teeth for most of his childhood. Definitely since Luke’s known him, anyway, and they’ve been friends since they were ten.

“Oh, did you?” Alex asks, and it sounds borderline sarcastic but he holds back most of his usual bite. “Let’s see ‘em, then.” He holds an arm out in a grand gesture like he’s giving Reggie the floor, and Reggie flashes the most hesitant smile Luke’s ever seen on him.

Luke swears his heart stops, but Alex is once again carrying the conversation so he does his best to tune in. “Oh, nice,” Alex says, approving of the red brackets stuck to the front of Reggie’s teeth with a slight nod.

Reggie returns the gesture, and he looks considerably more relaxed now that he knows his friends won’t shun him for something this mundane. “Thanks,” he tells Alex before turning to face Luke, and he looks a little apprehensive, like maybe Luke should get his brain to reboot so he can offer some reassuring words instead of just staring like a total weirdo.

Luke wants to say something about how red looks good on him, or how it’s cool that it’ll match his favourite flannel, or maybe he’d settle for even just a supportive thumbs up. What actually comes out of his mouth is, “How long do you have to wear them?”

Reggie gives him a funny look, head tilted and brow furrowed. “Only like, a year,” he answers anyway, and Luke wants to scream.

Thankfully, the teacher chooses that moment to draw their attention to the front of the room, and Reggie turns around in his seat so Luke can only see the back of his head. Luke sighs in relief, sinking further into his chair till his limbs are sprawled out into the aisle, accepting his defeat. It’s gonna be a long year.

Luke decidedly does not address the issue after that day. The issue being that weird fluttery feeling he gets in his chest every time Reggie smiles at him, or laughs, or talks, or breathes. Basically any time he sees the glint of metal in Reggie’s mouth, really.

It’s not like this is a new development, exactly; Luke has always had a bit of a soft spot for Reggie, a little bit of weakness. In the six years they’ve known each other, he can’t recall a time that Reggie just existing didn’t make his brain static out. The braces just made him recognize what’s always been true, even if he still doesn’t know how to make sense of it.

Normally he’d talk to his best friends about whatever’s on his mind, but he can’t very well articulate a dilemma he can’t comprehend to begin with. Plus, he doubts Alex would be any help, considering he’s got his own set of issues to work through, and he’d rather die than bring it up with Reggie himself. And as for Bobby, well. Bobby’s got the emotional depth of a puddle. So, naturally, he does the only logical thing there is to do: he writes.

He figures if Reggie’s smile is stuck in his head like a song, he might as well make it one. It’s what he’s good at, and it gives him a false sense of separation from the issue that grants a certain clarity he can’t get any other way. He jots down pages and pages of lyrics, curled up in his bed late one night, fingers itching for his guitar even though he knows his mom would kill him if she caught him playing at 1am again. So he just sits cross-legged on his comforter, hunched over his ratty old notebook, scrawling cliche lines about green eyes and freckles and an endearingly crooked canine.

It’s the sappiest thing he’s ever written. When he reads over it before school the next morning, he knows he’s well and truly fucked.

Reggie plops down into the dip in the center of the studio couch, inadvertently leaning onto Luke’s shoulder. “You working on a new song?” he asks, tilting his chin at the notebook on Luke’s lap like the question needs clarification.

Luke nods even as he scrambles to shut the book, shuffling loose papers to stuff them between the creased cover. “Uh,” he stammers, biting his lip. “Yeah, I am.”

Reggie just nods back, averting his eyes to look up at the loft when he realizes that Luke doesn’t want him to see the song. “Rad. What's it called?” He glances at Luke, offering a comforting smile that says Luke can tell him as much or as little as he wants.

And well, that's the thing. Luke hasn't given it a name yet―the song, or the bewildering cocktail of feelings that inspired it to begin with. So he looks up from his scratchy handwriting to Reggie’s lopsided grin and says the first thing his useless brain can come up with. “Crooked Teeth.”

“Oh.” Reggie’s smile slides right off his face and Luke realizes what he's done half a second too late. Reggie bites his lip self-consciously, fidgeting with the sleeves of the flannel tied around his waist as Luke scrambles to backtrack into less sensitive territory.

“It's about Bobby,” he blurts unwittingly. And technically speaking, it is a little bit about Bobby, mostly because it's a little bit about the whole band, seeing as they’re mentioned in one line of the second chorus. But Bobby’s not the point of the song, not by a long shot. Luke decides Reggie doesn't need to know that, though. Especially not when his face lights up at the revelation, conspiratorial eyebrow raised like Luke’s letting him in on some great secret.

“Oh, snap! Well, I won't tell him, but don't let him find those lyrics.” Reggie winks, and it's not like it’s an unfamiliar sight, but Luke’s heart stutters out of time all the same. He's just glad Reggie isn’t the type to ask to see a song before Luke’s ready to share it; Luke doubts he'll ever be ready to share this particular piece, but if he does show it to Reggie, it'll be his choice.

He laughs halfheartedly, more a forceful exhale than anything else, and lands a playful punch to Reggie’s bicep. “Sure, man.”

Reggie just smiles wider. It feels like a kick straight to Luke’s solar plexus.

“You told him it’s about Bobby?” Alex asks, but what Luke hears is, you’re an idiot. Luke looks down at his best friend―he used to consider Reggie his best friend too, but he thinks maybe Reggie is in a category all his own at this point―and frowns. “He got his braces off before we even met him.” Alex stands up, walking around his drum kit to pace the floor. “And you told Reggie it’s called Crooked Teeth before you said that? Dude, you know how insecure he is about―”

“Yeah, Al, I know,” Luke huffs, cutting him off. It’s not the title Luke would've consciously chosen, but it's weirdly fitting, in a sort of convoluted way. Like, maybe Reggie’s teeth weren’t the sole catalyst for this whole...whatever this is, but they definitely played a major part. Luke’s really gonna miss Reggie’s snaggletooth, okay? He resents Reggie’s parents for a lot of reasons, but forcing him to get braces instead of a real birthday present is pretty damn high on the list.

Alex, with all his anxiety-induced powers of perception, notices Luke’s internal struggle and momentarily stops wearing a hole in the floor. “You’re kinda wiggin’ out, man. Chill.” He holds his hands out in what’s meant to be a placating gesture, but the drumsticks in his fists sort of ruin the effect.

“You’re one to talk,” Luke mumbles, but he doesn’t mean it, and Alex knows that. He’s just confused, and stressed, and generally unsure what to do with his recent epiphany. “What should I do?” he asks louder, eyes pleading.

Alex goes back to nervously lapping the room, and Luke picks at a loose string on his guitar strap just to have something to do. “I dunno,” Alex says after what could very well be an eternity. “But I think you’d feel better if you told him.”

Luke’s eyes shoot up to meet Alex’s gaze, brow furrowing involuntarily. “You what?”

Alex walks over, planting his feet in front of Luke, clapping a hand on Luke’s shoulder that isn’t holding his guitar strap up. “You’re clearly upset about this, Lucas. Tell him.”

Luke is shaking his head before Alex has even finished his sentence. “Not happening.” He folds his arms like a petulant child, but it loses its effectiveness when his guitar gets in the way, a sad thump echoing through the room. “I wouldn’t know what to say, anyway.”

Alex cocks an eyebrow with a pointed look at the notebook sitting on top of Luke’s amp. “I think you already said it.”

Luke follows his line of sight, eyes landing on the folded corner of a piece of paper sticking out from all the others. He already knows what’s written on it―has the words memorized by now. They were written on his heart long before he put them to the page, anyway.

Bobby bursts into the studio then, Reggie in tow, and the moment is broken. They’re laughing about something Bobby said, and Reggie is as beautiful as ever as he throws his head back, and Luke thinks that maybe one day he’ll get the courage to tell him how he feels. He’ll ask Alex to work with him on the music to go with his lyrics, maybe even get Bobby to help with the melody. He’ll throw rocks at Reggie’s window and serenade him from his front lawn like they do in the movies, and his friends will back him up, and it’ll be perfect.

For now, he needs to focus on perfecting the songs they already have. They’ve got a show at the Orpheum next summer to prepare for.

#posted this a week ago but i finally got around to putting it here too lmao #i still don't know if i like the formatting but whatever #anyway! i'm writing willex next <3 #jatp #julie and the phantoms #peterpatter #luke #reggie #alex #mine #fic

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