#look the public needs to know if these two genius men are fucking

[gildedmuse]

Marvel's What If.... Season 2 just casually dropping that whole "Science Bros: What Are They Up To?" Magazine article like us fans don't know when we're beings served.

#marvel's what if #tony stark #bruce banner #Science Bros #in universe gossip columns #look the public needs to know if these two genius men are fucking #oh they are? #perfect #tony/bruce #tony x bruce #avengers #marvel

[inkskinned]

you found out today that a phrase you have used before was coined by an abusive man. this felt like getting your teeth taken out. it made you sick and sad and tired, but not surprised.

bad people tell you to be careful when you talk badly of bad men, that it could "ruin" a life. you had your life ruined by a bad man, not that it ever matters to them. your real life having real consequences is not valued as highly as the potential of his future.

this has always been a frustrating little mathematics problem for you. you've missed school and had to call out sick at work and had panic attacks that lasted for weeks. it stole sleep and food and friends from you. you cried in public, fucked your relationships up. and the whole time: your present has never mattered so much as the great what if! of his future. like - one life (your life) is already ruined, should we really ruin two?

so you live with the consequences and he doesn't, and that's just like, something you need therapy for. you once discussed this with one of your friends over coffee. she chewed the wooden stirrer, looked off into the distance. "once i became a victim, everything that happens to me afterward is automatically less interesting in the eyes of the general public. it is always about him. he changed my identity. to survivor. to statistic. meanwhile this whole time - i am a person."

you learned in college that three out of five of your favorite artists and authors were actually abusive assholes. these days, you are no longer surprised. oh, is that what was happening behind closed doors? of course it was, he was a "genius," and she was just a girl. you are talking about him in art history, so obviously his career was absolutely ruined, for eternity. that's what happens, right? they strike your name from the record and refuse to remember you? nobody really knows her name, but hey. that's what you get for being close to celebrity.

you got into an argument about it, which was a bad argument, because it made you cry. he said what, you want us to just ignore all the things this man did because he made a few women uncomfortable? and you'd balled your fists up and choked on it. later, in bed, you agonized over the response you'd been trying to articulate but never found the right moment to deploy: you are ignoring what any person could do if they weren't being fucking abused. maybe her talents far exceeded his and she was just never allowed to fucking use them. maybe we only see genius in white men because they purposefully fucking squash and silence any other people with talent.

but you'd cried about it instead of saying that, because you are the cost. you are the talent and potential that he took. you used to be brave and smart and clever and unafraid. like a lich, he stole years of your life.

quiet on set made you sad and sick and tired, but not surprised. unfortunately, one of the things he said was true: an entire network of people allowed it to continue. this is not news to you, because you have seen entire networks of people make the same fucking excuses when the same thing or-worse happened to you. and your particular story isn't even in hollywood. it was just a guy. it was still difficult getting people to stand up for you.

you and your friend wait in line for your coffee. like a standup joke, one man turns to the other and says "can't wait for every bitch to come crawling out of the woodwork complaining about harassment. it's another metoo." and you think - oh, that's the network. your boss tucks her hair back and whispers that while your skirt is cute, you're giving the boys the wrong idea. that's the network. when you'd told your "friend" about what happened, she'd said oh you must have misunderstood, that would never happen. and that's the network.

you woke up this morning panting, because years later you still have panic attacks. oh, it's not a network, actually, it's a web. and you, little moth: are you still surprised you're caught in it?

#warm up #spilled ink #writeblr

[izukuwus]

(they all have) so much meaning - Midoriya Izuku/Reader (18+)

Next (coming soon?) - M.list - Ao3

A/N: ok so despite the spiderweb thing I actually did most of the writing for this BEFORE I watched across the spiderverse and veered clear into my government-mandated spider-man phase. I kind of want the tattoo, though.

(why yes, I DO default to The Front Bottoms lyrics every time I can't think of a good title for a fic. it's bc I'm right.)

Summary: It's your third date with your long-standing no-longer-crush, and Izuku just found out that you had a tattoo. You let him take a long look.

Warnings: public sex, oral (reader receiving), afab reader, reader has a tattoo, exhibitionism

Notes: Reader has a tattoo and established quirk. Yes, they're a literal emotional vampire. I can only write so much without vampires getting involved.

Word Count: 3600+

Midoriya Izuku is a pretty boy with sharp teeth and a brilliant mind. He does not possess the mind for what one would call a normal conversation, really, but you knew that long before agreeing to the first date, let alone the second.

By the end of date three, you’re honestly proud of him. I mean, neither of you got through the date without stuttering, which is fucking ridiculous given how long you’ve known each other, but compared to the first date’s rocky start, you both did a fantastic job! You completed the date with minimal stuttering between the two of you, and thanks to your quirk, you’re confident in saying both of you feel a fond sadness as he drives you home. You could have taken the train—planned on it, actually—but he’d insisted, and who were you to not say yes, if only to bask in his presence a little longer?

“I didn’t know you had a car,” you confess. You’re sitting on your hands, self-conscious for a myriad of reasons, least of all because having sat on your hands has left you hyperaware of how much thigh is visible in this skirt. “Is it new?”

Stupid question. It’s obviously new, and nice, too. Admittedly, you don’t know shit about cars, but you do know enough to be able to tell when one is nice. It’s shiny, for one, with a sleek, vintage look and classic black paint, and you don’t have to be a genius to know that any car with a convertible top is probably not super cheap. The seats, too, are luxurious—a dark, soft leather that caresses your legs quite nicely.

The trouble with leather is, again, directly correlated with how much thigh is exposed by this skirt. Being July, the world is hot and sticky, which means miniskirts, which means issues around gross men, windy days, and leather fucking car seats.

“It is, actually!” He lets out a nervous laugh. It’s strange to see him driving, strange to see scarred hands confidently turning the wheel. Izuku had asked if you wanted the top down, since it was a hot day, and nice out, and—

You had agreed with a nervous bubble of laughter. The novelty of it was a good draw. You’d heard “top down” from pretty lips and agreed without a second thought.

The thing about Midoriya Izuku is that, for all the years you’ve been friends—since entering high school, really—you have danced around one another like this.

Nervous laughter, words flowing so easily that they slip right past your filter or otherwise don’t make it to your lips. Honestly, you don’t need him to tell you that he didn’t mean to ask you on the first date when he did—he had the same affliction, where things were said too easily and then followed by the cringe. Hindsight is always 20/20, which meant that the moment he'd asked to take you out to a movie and let the word "date" slip, he was immediately running damage control, and you'd let "I'd like a date, actually" slip before you really realized the ramifications of it. So you had gone home to panic and squeal, and he had gone home to panic and squeal, and now here you were, three dates down with the rising star of the hero world, a title you did not begrudge him.

“Since when did you need a car with that quirk?” you tease. Right now, it’s easy. The nerves of being with someone who wants you instead of just likes you don’t strangle your throat.

“Well, I could have just carried you home, but I think that might draw too much attention?” The thoughtful look in his eye slides away to something else as he casts a glance your way, maybe a bit lower, and his face burns red before you. “Not to mention, um, it might not be advisable, um…”

You got the message. You shift a little in your seat in hopes that it’ll give the fabric cause to slide down a little bit. “Y-yeah, uh, maybe not. I’ll have to wear shorts underneath next time!”

Another glance at your thigh before the light turns green. You try not to think about the little surge in his emotions pressing insistently at you. His cheeks seem impossibly redder, and he turns his eyes to the road, ever dedicated to safe driving practices. “I-if you want! You looked really nice tonight, though! I mean it!”

It’s mildly amusing, watching him flounder like this. If you had less shame, you might revel in seeing his face go full strawberry just to pay you a compliment, especially after having fought a few villains alongside him and having seen that version of Izuku in action. He’s borderline unrecognizable like this, making still-nervous conversation and trying not to stare at your legs as he drives you home.

The fluttery, nervous energy between you is, if nothing else, good fuel for your quirk, and you catch it in the air and stock it away until the pair of you reach your destination.

“Thanks again.” You flash him your best smile as he parks, and you’re unsurprised to see him move to open your car door. Such a gentleman. “For driving me home, I mean. I would have made it home fine, but…”

“It’s not a problem at all! I wanted to.” He opens your door, offers you a hand, and once again, you regret the skirt.

In your defense, the skirt had passed the date check. It covers your ass, covers your tattoo when standing, and was cute enough to justify wearing out of the house!

It does not, however, pass the car check, which is what you discover as a movement to unstick your thighs from the seat also has the hem riding up far enough to show off your tattoo. You know, the one you didn’t tell anyone you got. The one whose location you picked because (and I quote) “if anyone I’m not actively sleeping with sees it, we have bigger problems than their opinions on my tattoo”. That tattoo. That someone you are not actively sleeping with (not yet, anyway) just got an eyeful of. Most of, at least.

He’s practically babbling, avoiding eye contact as he apologizes and helps you out of the car. “I-I didn’t know you got a tattoo.”

“Oh, uh, yeah! I did! I lost a bet with Mina and had to get something done, so I thought I’d go for something cute.” You nearly babble the words, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Cute” is not the word you had used to describe the design when you’d come up with it, and the bet you lost was really just a pretense so you had an excuse to get the tattoo anyway, but, you know. It’s the little things as far as word choice is concerned.

You rub the back of your neck. “It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would, actually. And the artist did a great job with it!”

“I didn’t get to see it really well, but I’m sure they did a really good job!”

“I mean, I could show you,” you reply, and there it is. Once again, your words beat your brain to the punch.

“I’d like to, if you’re comfortable with it!”

And there’s his burst of nervous energy, which, to be fair, hasn’t gone down a bit since you met at the restaurant earlier this evening, only climbed. You’ve learned that when you feel that particular spike of energy arc off him, it’s him doing the exact “say things you mean but don’t mean to say” thing you do. Small comforts, you suppose.

“Sure,” you manage, and then you’re lifting the hem of your skirt to show him the tattoo in all its glory.

Its design is that of a garter wrapping around your thigh, delicate lace forming spider webs in the “band” of the tattoo. It’s pretty, it’s possibly a bite too sexy, and it’s perhaps a bit too far up your thigh to be showing off in any way anyone would consider modest. In the dark of your poorly-lit driveway, Izuku seems to find himself crouching and leaning in to be able to properly inspect your inked thigh, and you feel a little surge of something wave off of him.

It’s not until you let that particular energy feed you and compare it to your own feelings that you realize he’s turned on. Part of it might be the position—the fire racing through your veins at lifting your skirt up partway for a pretty face crouching in front of you is likely matched by being the pretty face crouching before your date’s lifted skirt. Just as quick as it came, it’s replaced by a hot flush of shame, an emotion you know well.

That one, you don’t need to guess the source of. Izuku’s spent countless hours talking to you about the intricacies of your quirk over the years, and by now he’s more than aware that you feel every little surge of emotional energy around you, having given his permission to you to feed off of whatever he puts out.

When he lingers staring just a bit too long, you slowly lower your skirt and manage a nervous laugh. “So what do you think?”

“It’s a really well-done tattoo! I like the design, it’s very, uh—hot. I mean! Pretty! It’s pretty! I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that, that was completely inappropriate and you probably don’t think of me that way and I swear I’m not the kind of guy who—“

“Izuku.” This time, there’s no nerves in your laughter. “Did you think I was platonically lifting my skirt for you?”

He freezes. You draw a blank from the air between you, and he stares, flush-faced and wide-eyed, at you. “Lift it all the way, then,” he breathes, and then comes the panic. “Oh my god. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’msosorry—“

You wish you could say that you had some cool, flirtatious response ready to go, some smooth line that would get you branded pick up artist extraordinaire, but you’re rendered entirely speechless. The thought that perhaps this is moving faster than normal relationships might flits past your brain as you grasp the sides of your skirt in two fists and lift it the rest of the way.

His frantic apologies die in his throat. For a moment, you think he dies, too—even his emotional signature is completely blank. He rests, half-crouched, green eyes cataloging the sight like he’s studying for a test. He sucks in an audible breath as he processes it and the heat of arousal floods back from him. You like to think it’s because of one detail you didn’t really expect to come up tonight:

Your tattoo matches your panties.

Izuku is surging attraction towards you in waves intense enough that you’re sure someone else must be able to feel them. There’s no one here to notice, though.

It is an eternity of him staring at your bare thighs, inked lace and real lace maybe two inches from touching, and then he is bringing calloused fingers up to hover just above the ink in your skin. “M-may I, uh—“

You try not to flinch when those same calloused fingers rest on plush flesh. He traces the lines of the tattoo almost reverently, eyes following his fingertips, occasionally flicking upwards just a bit, and you keep your eyes locked on his expression the entire time.

So focused on watching his face, you miss his fingers trailing inwards. You don’t miss them when they brush at the place your thighs kiss. Another little flinch, but this time he retreats to gauge your expression. “Is this okay?” he’s asking you. Your mind is tethered to the spot where his fingers rest on too-hot skin. “I-I don’t want to push too hard or assume anything, and—“

Your words are failing you, but you give a frantic nod. You’re not convinced you’ve ever been this turned on in your life, you’ve lost track of the feel of his emotions pressing against yours, and the only words coming to your mind at this point are: New kink. Score.

You think he thanks you as his fingers slide across your skin, but you can’t be too sure, because his fingers have left the tattoo to climb in agonizing slow motion up your thigh. They brush, rough and so, so gentle against the lace of your panties, and this time, you flinch properly, fabric slipping from your fingers to rest on his wrist.

The look Izuku gives you is uncharacteristic and nearly stern. “I want to see,” he says, gentle and sweet, as though he’s pleading with you to show him some innocent photo rather than to keep your skirt held up for his viewing pleasure.

Automatically, you’re lifting your skirt again, and he nods in appreciation. “If at any point you want me to stop, or slow down, or… any of that, tell me?”

“Mhm. I promise.”

“Good,” he says, and it’s so dangerously close to what you really want to hear that you have to suppress a shudder.

Again his fingers brush the lace covering your sex, and this time, you don’t drop the skirt. You hold it tight, even as Izuku’s fingers press into the space between your thighs, and you find yourself leaning back against his car for support. When his other hand rests on your opposite knee and pushes outwards just a touch, you let your legs part in turn.

You have the sense he hasn’t done this much. You know he hasn’t, actually—you have on good authority that he has precious little experience in the romance department, and, having been more or less in love with him for several years now, you aren’t faring much better. Maybe that’s why it’s so electric when he presses an experimental line on the outside of your panties. Maybe that’s why the shame burns so hot when his fingertip comes away damp.

His voice comes out a whisper. He’s staring up at your face in awe. “Are you…”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut tight. “This is, like… insanely hot. You’re insanely hot.”

“Good,” he breathes, and then he’s slipping his hand past the band of your panties and touching you directly.

You jump a little at the contact, biting your lip to keep from gasping out. One experimental finger dips into you, and you take it readily.

That same finger leaves you quickly, and then you feel him tentatively tugging down your panties. When you peek at him, you find big, green eyes silently asking your permission.

“Please,” you whisper.

The panties are dragged down to your ankles, and then he’s returning to you in full force, sliding a single finger in and out of your hole, curling it inside you as though he’s figuring out how you react to each motion. Before long, he’s adding a second finger, moving so slow it’s torture more than pleasure.

He’s experimenting. Learning.

Your stomach flutters at the thought—he was always a fast learner. Too late, you realize that, oh shit, he just felt that, and now he’s staring up at you with wide eyes and red-stained cheeks.

“More,” you plead. “Please, ‘Zuku.”

The name slips from your lips so easily you almost forget you’ve pushed to a new level with him. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, except that he stops and retreats again, to your whiny distress.

“Can you spread them for me?”

“My legs?”

He shakes his head. “I want to see everything.”

Oh.

You shift so you’re holding your skirt in the center, and then a hand slides down to spread your lips for his viewing pleasure. He hums in contentment, and you’re aware of a subtle shifting of his position, though you’re not sure why.

“Trust me?”

“Always.”

That’s the only trigger he needs—he doesn’t return to fingering you, but those hands, large and scarred and rough against your skin, wrap around behind you as he replaces fingers with his mouth.

First a tentative taste, then a starved lick like a man starved, and oh, he’s always been good with his mouth, hasn’t he? Rambling, mumbling, brilliant thoughts have nothing on the feeling of his tongue as it finally plunges into you, the starved way he eats you out.

He’s still experimenting with you, still playing with you, but the curiosity of it all steadily falls away as he lets his instincts take the lead. When he at last brushes your clit and you gasp and your knees buckle, he takes note. He holds you up with ease, eyes half-lidded as though he’s torn between losing himself in the act and watching your reactions as he goes.

Two arms holding you up turns to one effortless arm around your waist. You have no time to consider where the other’s gone—he’s plunging those thick, rough fingers into you all over again, sucking on your clit, and suddenly you’re immensely grateful for the arm around your waist, because there’s no chance in hell you’re standing on your own like this.

His motions approach frantic. He is moaning quietly into your pussy, losing himself in it, and you’re grasping desperately for anything to find purchase on and finding only the smooth body of the car.

It doesn’t take you long. Before either of you realize it, you’re quivering, legs going fully weak, biting down on your free hand to keep from moaning out as you cum on his tongue.

He does not stop. He pulls away, just a moment, and you’re aware that you’re moving, but your head’s gone fuzzy from the everything of it all, so it takes you extra time to realize that he’s laid you across the back seat and climbed on top of you, lips pressed against your own. He keeps breaking away to mumble apologies against your lips—I’m sorry, I wanted our first kiss to be romantic, I wanted all of this to be romantic but I’m—and you find the cognizance within yourself to swallow those apologies with another kiss. You taste salty on his lips.

He is melting into the kiss, pulling away somewhat less frantic than he had been, eyes studying your face.

You quirk a smile his way. “Is it too forward to tell you I think you’re hot?”

He huffs a little breath of laughter against your lips. “Only if it’s too forward for me to say the same.”

You giggle, wind your arms around his neck. “Not too forward, I’d say.”

His hand trails up your side, fingers toying with the edge of your shirt. You’re glad, also, for the choice to wear a button-down over a tank top. The decision had been risky, and it’s not like you picked this outfit for access, but you’re appreciating that access now. He’s not even seen you naked yet, but he’s looking over you beneath him reverently, trailing fingertips up and down your clothed side.

“I can’t believe how gorgeous you are,” he confesses in a murmur. And then: “I always thought you’d look pretty underneath me. You always looked pretty, of course! I just mean… wow.”

“I haven’t even taken my clothes off for you yet.”

“If you seriously think you need to take your clothes off for me to think you’re the hottest thing alive, I don’t even know what to tell you.”

“Oh come on. You’re exaggerating.”

He grinds his hips down into you, and oh fuck. Maybe he’s not. “Does that feel like exaggerating to you?”

It was barely a moment, but that little press of his hips to yours was enough to be sure of one thing: he’s big. Between the muscles and the package between his legs, you are well set to be split in half.

You welcome the opportunity.

“Mm, I’m not sure. Better do that again so I can check.”

Another drag of his lips against yours. Another roll of his hips against yours. This he grants  you eagerly, groaning into your mouth.

Something presses at you that’s not him and his devastatingly horny state.

You intake a breath, pull away, press a hand to his mouth. He gets the message, easily—someone is nearby. A neighbor, stepped outside for a moment. He takes the hint, presses his whole body against yours in an attempt to conceal himself from view.

When the presence leaves, and you’re sure you have the advantage of privacy again, you give him a little nod and peel your hand from his mouth.

A small smile, a small laugh. “I think we might have finally cleared the air between us.”

He tilts his head down at you with just a touch of mischief in his eyes. “I thought we were doing good.”

“We were! We were also an entire trainwreck.”

His cheeks tinge pink. “I-I was doing my best!”

“I know. We both were.” You ghost a kiss onto his nose. “We should head inside, though.”

“Inside?” he squeaks, as though it’s something scandalous.

“You do realize you just ate me out in the middle of the parking lot, right? I think you’re maybe at the point where I can invite you into my apartment.”

“Right. Yeah. Right.”

“You’ve been in my apartment before. You helped me move in!”

He whines, buries his face in your neck. “That was different!”

“Oh, poor ‘Zuku. But you know, if you come inside, I could return the favor…”

You’re not really sure what configuration of anything makes it happen, but one moment, you’re sprawled underneath him in the backseat of his car, the next, he has you in his arms bridal-style, as though you weigh nothing at all.

He takes the staircase one flight at a time. You don’t go back on your word.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @stxrrielle @snowymaltese @graywrites20

OKAY we are revamping the taglist. I've wiped it of all except recent requests just to quickly weed out inactive blogs.

If you'd like to be tagged, let me know by either replying, reblogging, or sending an ask letting me know what you'd like to be tagged in! (Eg. updates to this fic, all izuku fics, only nsfw fics, only sfw fics, all bnha fics, etc.) If at any point you'd like to be taken off the taglist, no hard feelings, just let me know!

#my fics #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader

[scarsbloodandleather]

okay rant post.

when i realize i have the objectively best music taste and aestehtic visuals for hbo spn even though im two years late, its worth it. man ive seen some playlists and “aesthetic” images for “hbo” spn with lots of likes and reposts and im thinking like. these images are grainy and not even the same filter or really dont make sense. the playlists are the worst. literally theyll be like “because hbo spn is grimey and punk” and then the first song is olivia rodrigo. just smash my head with a brick please.. like none of the songs make sense. theres like fucking billie eyelash and mother mother on so many playlists…… do we even watch the same show…. hbo spn is literally the first 5 season aesthetics, just these raw contrasted close scenes of random cryptic objects and symbolism. the music is the first season and how they had a bunch of underground 2000s metal like so underground you cant even find most of it on spotify and if so they have like less than 100 monthly listeners. LITERALLY THE SHIFTER EP. hbo spn still gotta be strictly pre-2005 songs as much as possible. theres a few songs i have in mind that are more modern that i might just try to slip in if i dont go until their year. shhh its my universe. Someone Else’s Bed by Hole actually came out in 5 years before the release date because i needed it to. in this alternate universe dean lives up to this scary accurate song that definitely came out 2002. didnt come out 2010. what are you talking about.

and the fact that ive only JUST now found one other person who agrees that they cant be SUPER body modded because… theyre fucking fugitives for gods sake. their fits in the og show are actually genius bc they look like the most basic white men ever. hbo spn just needs a little flair and unique-ness. they can still go out in public wearing jackets to cover up tattoos or dress up as feds and put on makeup to cover up scars and a few stray accidentally badly placed tattoos you know. and when their not hunting or doing something where they could get caught, hell, give them some punk jackets with patches galore. they still dye their hair but not crazy colors, or maybe they do like what if sam gets arrest and they put out an warrant for someone with bleach blonde hair but also have another warrant for sam with black hair at the same time, okay, easy, go green for a while or something. idk.

#rant #oops #hbo spn #hbo supernatural

[dragonstepp]

Oh lordy, lordy

It is nearly 5:00 in the morning here in Austin, and I have been drinking scotch (Highland Queen Majesty 16yo distilled in oak in the HIghlands) and looking at posts, and UTubes, and I have this to declared (and remember, I might just be a bit drunk).

I do not believe Sam and Cait are married. But if they are, what the fuck, who cares. I am 40 years older than he is, and don't have any romantic inclinations toward him, but if I did, I'm still too old for him, and certainly would not be an asset to him on any red carpet. Besides, I love him for his non-celebrity activities, so that is all a bunch of gossip to me.'

Second, I like this fellow who is 25 years old, has started following me (and I him), and is disabled because of child abuse, and can really identify with him because my mom abandoned my daddy when I was five (1946), and I also suffer from PTSD from a number a reasons, starting with losing my daddy when I was five, and having a step-dad who didn't like me (nor did my mother because she was jealous of me).

I lived in a fucking christian household due to my mom having the wrong ideas about christianity, and was denied a lot of stuff in high school where I should have had a great time.

The 60s. What a time for me. In the early days, I worked on a Dude Rance in Las Vegas (where my dad was living), and I was not a person anyone would to fashion themselves after me. I had two marriages that failed before was 24 (my fault, they were good men), and I gave birth to two daughters.

I moved back to Corpus Christi, TX in 1964, was in on the whole Beatles/Rolling Stones/Dave Clark 5/etc. revolution, and managed a merchant seamen's bar from 1964-1968. Sex was free, but birth control was not for single women. I gave birth to two more daughters in 1967 and 1969, I gave up all four daughters for adoption. I was a drunk. I did not believe I would live to the age of 30.

I saw Kennedy assassinated in 1963, MLK Jr. and Bobby in 1968, and a war that never stopped in Vietnam.

At the age of 30, I decided since I was still alive, I should change my ways and become a good citizen. I moved to austin in 1975, and worked 50 years of my life. I retired from the University of Texas in 2003. I worked during those years in Astronomy, public radio (and was a programmer of Celtic music during those years), and finally retired from the graduate studies department in 2003. I suffered from clinical depression and anxiety, was diagnosed with PTSD.

I was in therapy three times for suicidal thoughts, wrote my auto-biography in 2001, had a nervous breakdown in 2002, then covid and other things came along.

Today, at 82, I am sane; I love science fiction, college football (American), follow soccer, the Olympics (track and field, skiing, sledding, rugby, curling), am a pagan in the Celtic tradition, love everything Scotland, but suffer from arthritis in my knees (too much dancing and running) and shoulders, and love auto racing.

I am nuts about Sam Heughan, but he is 40 years younger than I am, and I mostly appreciate him for the things he does outside his celebrity.

I quite drinking when I was about 35, but these days, I drink Scotch, Gin, both from the Highlands, and order Scot-related foods from Amazon. My heart and soul belong to the Highlands. I watch a lot of sports on TV, enjoy car racing and science fiction, have a genius IQ (big deal), and my idea of heaven is where I will get all my questions answered. I am liberal socialist politically, support one regular organization that helps the downtrodden, hate Trump, and

that is about all you all need to know about me.

I am super intelligent, which does not go over with American men, but hay, what the hell, who cares. I am independent beyond imagination, and I love Tumblr. I was kicked off of Facebook, so my social networks are this one and Instagram.

Take me or leave me, but I am not your 82-year-old person, but your 82-year-young person who has seen a lot of life, and I will be alive as long as I can be.

Carol

[boop-le-snoot]

@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

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emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #Bruce Banner #bun writes #I haven't written shit in a month and boom #6k words in three hours #i don't like the ending #I'm bad at them #okay #okay .

[wtfevenismypage]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

request: request. i’m not sure if you’re comfortable with writing it but it’s worth a try the team is always teasing spencer saying “he’s definitely a virgin” and he’s like “wtf no i’m not” one day they’re like ok well then y/n can see for herself, y/n is like “😳i didn’t sign up for this” and long story short they come back to the bau and the team is like “ ok soooo?” and y/n is like zoning out mumbling “you were wrong”

Warnings: SMUT (Penetration, oral (female recieving), spanking, over-stimulation, choking, degrading kink)

A/N: YO SHIT’S ABOUT TO GO DOWN, I am going to start publishing fics again, but updates will be very very slow. They’ll increase eventually, but for now, they are slow. Love you all!

The night began at work. A late night with the team at the office, stacks of files mounted on all of your desks and you’re all gathered around to keep each other awake.

“Ugh. This is too much work. Seriously. Can’t killers ever take a break?”

You whine, spinning in the swivel chair and holding a file in the air. Morgan chuckles, staring at his own file before speaking.

“I need a drink after this.”

“You and me both Morgs.”

“I told you to stop calling me that Girly.”

You chuckle, stopping your spinning and standing up to stretch. It feels nearly impossible to stay awake. Not necessarily because you’re tired, but you’ve been staring at similar files all day and it’s getting boring and tiring.

 “I’ll do refills on coffee. Gimme your mugs.”

You say, letting them pile different sizes of cups and mugs in your arms. You saunter over to the coffee machine and set them on the counter.

You set the pot for a lot of coffee and quickly dash to Hotch’s office, where him and Rossi are.

“Yo, I’m making coffee, y’all need refills?”

They shake their heads and you shrug, returning to the coffee machine and pouring the coffee in the mugs before adding cream and sugar.

“How much sugar tonight Reid?”

You ask, turning to the tall doctor with a smirk. Luckily, you and your team are the only people left in the bullpen so you can be as loud as you want.

“A lot.”

You snort, grabbing the box of sugar and piling it in, almost emptying it before putting it on the shelf and making a few trips to distribute the coffee.

“Here you are Spencer, sugar with some coffee on the side.”

You chuckle, sitting in your chair again and picking a new file up, only to find that this was the last file.

“Oh. Anyone else wanna give me files? I’m on my last one.”

Morgan and Emily immediately run up to you with files, dropping them on your desk and thanking you. It made you laugh, watching smiles grown on their faces.

“Okay team. We’re almost finished. Just a little bit more now.”

-

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(SEXUAL THEMES BEYOND THIS POINT)

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A few hours later you, Spencer, Rossi, and Hotch are finished with your stacks, waiting for the other three with Penelope, discussing bars to go to.

“Oooo there’s a new one downtown, we should go there.”

“Can you guys hold back your alcohol talk until tonight please? I just wanna get out of here fast and maybe get lucky tonight.”

Emily pleads, making you and the other women go “oooo” while the men groan.

“Oh boy you are right Em. I haven’t gotten laid in so long. Too long.”

You say, leaning back in your chair and looking at a flabbergasted Penelope.

“How long?”

She asks, staring at you in disbelief. You were a very beautiful woman (Don’t you fucking dare say otherwise) so people often assumed you had sex often. You weren’t private about it either. So what if people judged you? Sex is natural and anyone who says otherwise is selling something.

“Since my first time in middle school. I had a delusion that sex was gonna be this amazing thing and then it was actually terrible. I gave up all hope and never slept with anyone ever again. So you know, it is what it is.”

Everyone looked at you in shock, confused as to how you went your whole life without sex.

“Wait really?”

Morgan questions, his attention dropping from the files to you in an instant. Spencer simply stared at you in disbelief, his expression suddenly making you nervous.

“Y-yeah. I haven't had sex since middle school. It isn’t a big deal.”

You defend, but Penelope wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

“Oh honey I’m definitely finding you someone to take home.”

“Hey, at least you had your first time, unlike pretty boy over here.”

Morgan teases, messing with Spencer’s hair. Spencer was often teased for being a virgin, but none of you knew what to believe. He said he wasn’t, but refused to tell even Morgan about any of his times.

“How many times do I have to tell you guys, I’m not a virgin!”

“Then tell us about one time.”

Morgan says, a wide smirk on his face at the disheveled state of the genius doctor. Poor Reid just wanted to be left alone but Morgan will not let this go.

“Morgan. Not all of us are public about our sex lives like you bud. Sometimes I wish you were as secretive as Reid. None of us want to hear about how you “got it on”.”

Morgan grimaces, and Spencer looks to you thankfully. 

“C’mon Y/N, you aren’t even a little curious?”

Emily asks from her desk, finally finishing up the last file with JJ. You shrug, playing with your hair briefly.

“Of course I’m super curious, but, unlike you lust goblins, I stand with Hotch and Rossi and don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

Various groans come from the team as you fist-bump Hotch and Rossi, laughing at their defeat.

-

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-

-

When Morgan finally finishes, you all head to the new bar downtown, smiling at the flashing lights of the dance floor and immediately going to a small table with the rest of the team.

“Oh hells yes! This place is already fun!”

Penelope squeals, waving a worker over to get food. Morgan sits next to you, Emily on your other side and Spencer is next to Morgan and Hotch. 

“Alright my baby’s we are partying until Y/N gets lucky!”

You chuckle at Penelope’s words, raising a glass of water to your lips and taking a big swig of it before looking around. The people in there were definitely attractive, but your mind never swayed from a certain genius.

You meant it when you said you were curious, your mind had always wandered to certain images when you went to sleep, constantly imagining what he would be like.

You’re mind was so easily destroyed by him. All of your thoughts contorted by him. To the point where you can’t imagine sleeping with any of these other people, but you’re scared to ruin your friendship with him by trying to sleep with him.

“Ah guys. I’m fine. I don’t want to sleep with someone I don’t know.”

Morgan groans, nudging your side and making you laugh.

-

-

-

-

-

A few hours later, Spencer has abandoned ship and went to the bathroom, leaving you alone with the rest of the team as you eat some wings.

“Oh my god I know how to figure out if Reid’s a virgin or not!”

Penelope shouts, you look at her excited face, just smirking as she squeals.

“And what is your plan?”

“One of us hooks up with him!”

You all choke on your food and drinks, staring at her in shock.

“I’m sorry what? Did you just say-”

“Actually that’s not a bad idea.”

Hotch cuts you off. You turn to his smirking face in shock. Never in a million years would you have thought that Aaron Hotchner thought one of you sleeping with Reid is a good idea.

“Hotch! Wouldn’t that like, mess with work or something?”

He shrugs, turning to you and smirking.

“What can I say? I’m curious too.”

You sigh, chuckling a bit and shaking your head.

“I say Y/N does it.”

“What?”

“Yeah! Y/N is single and hasn’t gotten laid in a while, it’s perfect!”

“Guys no I-”

“Oh my god you’re right! Plus there’s plenty of sexual tension between the two of them.”

You sigh, knowing they won’t let up until this happens. When the team wants something, they make it happen.

“Okay guys, I didn’t sign up for this, I’m not your test dummy.”

You say, putting your wings down on the plate in front of you and looking around at them all.

“Please girly? Pretty please?”

Morgan begs, clutching your hand tightly and shaking it up and down like a child who wants a toy.

“Y/N, I will make sure you get a raise in your paycheck.”

You stop and think about it for a second.

It could ruin your relationship with him forever, then again, he’s the type to forgive and forget when it comes to his friends.

And if it did work out, then things could be awkward between the two of you for a long time, or worse, he’d regret it. And like all the things he regrets, he’d ignore you until you disappeared.

And the worst you can think of, you take his virginity. Not someone he loves, not his girlfriend or wife, you. His bestfriend and co-worker. 

But still, just that small percentage that everything might go completely right and you might even get a second time with him makes it feels like it might be worth it.

“Okay fine. But I don’t want a raise. If I’m doing this it’s because I want to.”

They all cheer and you just smile, taking a swig of beer before motioning for Morgan to switch seats with you so that when Spencer comes back he’ll be next to you.

Within a few minutes Spencer returns and you feel a heat travel up your neck as you look at him. He turned to you and smiled, sending shivers up your spine as you smiled back.

“Why’d you switch places?”

He asks, you turn to Morgan for help, pleading him to come up with a fake story.

“Emily kept poking her so she told me to switch.”

He says, you practically glare daggers at him, but you go with it, turning back to Spencer and nodding with a smile.

“Yep, so now, you are stuck with me.”

You joke, trying to ease the dusty pink on your cheeks, and nudge him gently in the arm.

In a few minutes you muster up the courage to let your hand travel off of the counter and onto Spencer’s thigh, feeling your entire face go crimson at the feeling of the hard muscle.

He choked on his water briefly before looking at you, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of your red face. You were trying to hide any emotion you felt out of embarrassment. 

He didn’t say anything though, you’re hand felt warm against the cool breeze of the bar, and he wasn’t opposed to your touch whatsoever.

Everyone continued talking and laughing as your hand inched upwards, and you could feel his body tense up every once in a while, and every time he did, you paused, giving him a moment to push your hand away or tell you to stop, but he didn’t. Not even when you began massaging and squeezing the muscle in your hands.

In fact, he at some point grabbed your hand and positioned it right above his own cock. You weren’t touching it yet, just hovering in slight fear.

He wants this.

You thought before slowly lowering your hand, your eyes widening at the feeling of his semi hard and fairly large cock. What the hell were you getting yourself into?

You glance at him quickly, only to find him staring straight back at you with lust lidded eyes. They were intimidating, almost scary. Usually you would have hated to be on the receiving end of this glare, but in this context, it made you feel like a match had been lit inside of you and you were just left there with a lit match inside of you.

The moment you squeezed your hands just slightly, he abruptly stood up, your hand falling from his crotch. Everyone looks at him in shock as he yanks you up.

“I need to talk to you.”

Is all he says before dragging you away. You only had a split second to turn and see the teams faces, but they were all pretty much the same. 

A shit eating smile with wiggling eyebrows.

-

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-

-

-

From the moment you were yanked into the private room with Spencer, you were super nervous. It had been years, you were inexperienced. What if he didn’t like it? What if he left because you were bad at it?

He seemed to notice your panicked state and sat you down on the bed, crouching in front of you and taking your hands in his.

“Hey, we don’t have to do this. As much as I would love to prove to you that I really am not a virgin, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. But if you say yes, I will pillage your body to the point that you can’t walk next week.”

Well shit, now you were fully convinced and super turned on. You had thought he was vanilla, or maybe even a bottom, but oh wow you were so wrong.

“Do it.”

Those were the only two words needed for Spencer Reid to pounce, and your plane of vision was knocked over, now laying on your back as he traps you under his body. 

His lips are everywhere. They’re on yours at first, but they travel to your jaw, your neck, and his lengthy fingers work at the buttons on your dress shirt rapidly. 

“Shit Spencer...”

You whine out as he works his hands across your body. They feel like fire against your skin. His lips are wet and messy, kissing and marking your neck for the world to see.

You grip his shirt, tugging at it and opening your mouth to speak, but a moan slips out instead. You shut your eyes in embarrassment as you feel his lips curl upwards on your collarbone, the suckling feeling feeling so warm and tingly.

“What is it baby? You want me to take my shirt off? huh?”

You nod eagerly, chest rising and falling quickly as he raises his body off of yours, and you open your heavy eyes to see him strip off his shirt. He isn’t muscly, but he’s perfect, he looks perfect.

“What do you want baby?”

You stumble over your words, your mind already fuzzy somehow by just his lips.

“You. I want you. Please Spencer I want you.”

 You beg, your hands travelling up his torso and feeling his soft skin. He leans down again, towering over you and smashing his lips on your while his hands work on getting your pants off.

His lips were safe, careful. Not aggressive, and his tongue that tasted the inside of your mouth was warm and loving, savoring your taste as you whined into his.

He was smiling so widely against your skin, his pride booming at the way you reacted to his touch. He never once thought he could get you to react like this.

“You just wanted to see if I was a virgin huh? You curious?”

You nod and shake your head, confused on why you were doing this as well. You wanted this so much it almost hurt, you’ve wanted this since day one. You were also really curious as well though.

“You know what they say.”

He leans into your ear, kissing your neck and biting your ear.

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

You felt his fingers rub at your clothed pussy, your black cloth panties preventing him from fucking you with his fingers. His fingers rub against your clit, the cotton creating friction on it as well.

 “Please Spencer! Please please please!”

You beg, feeling his breath land on your cold skin in a way that felt so raw and rigid. He tugs at your panties, freeing your cunt as a finger rubs against your clit, the bundle of nerves jolting you up.

A loud moan escapes your lips as he continues circling your clit with his long fingers, His lips kissing your open ones.

Two fingers probe into you, scissoring themselves inside of you. You groan into his mouth as they curl upwards into your wet cunt.

“Shit!”

He moves his head between your thighs, licking a wet stripe up your clit, flicking it around as you moan at the sensitive feeling. It feels like electricity lighting up the sensitive nub.

A pressure builds between your legs, a spring coiling in your stomach as he suckles on your clit, fucking you fast with his fingers.

“Spencer! I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it.”

It hits you like a fiery clap of thunder, the feeling so extreme and hot it almost makes you scream and you can only hope no one heard you over the music outside.

Your breathing is labored as your high dies down, but Spencer doesn’t let up, he flips you over onto your stomach, dragging you to your knees by your hips. 

“Wha-”

You get cut off by your own moan of pain, the tip of his cock slowly being pressed into your tight and wet cunt.

“It’ll get better baby, I’ll go slow, I promise. Just tell me when you want me to go, and when you want me to stop. Okay?”

You nod against the pillow under your face, tears slipping out of the corners of your eyes. A hand lands on your ass, making you yelp at the rough feeling.

“Words baby.”

You moan, palming the sheets with your fists as he pulls out completely, leaving you to feel empty.

“Okay! Please Spencer! Please I need you!”

You could practically feel his pride rolling off of him as he pushes into your sex slowly, filling you up fully. 

It’s a stinging feeling, as if you were being torn apart. But he waits, he let’s you adjust to his girthy size before moving. He really was gentle. You hadn’t expected him to be rough exactly, but he was shockingly gentle and patient.

Eventually, you got used to the feeling, it felt so satisfying as well. The feeling of being so full and warm was so pleasuring, it sent little jolts of pleasure up your spine and out your mouth, making Spencer smirk.

“You’re so tight for me. You so curious you let me fuck you huh? So eager?”

You nod, burying your face into the pillows. You want him to move, to fuck you until you break, but words won’t come out, so you move your hips forwards, letting part of him slip out of you before moving him back into your dripping cunt.

A loud groan escapes both of your lips at the feeling, his hand lands on your ass again, reddening it before taking the hint and thrusting into you carefully.

“Oh... Holy crap!”

You moan out as he continues to clench your hips, surely leaving bruises tomorrow. His thrusts remained slow and deep, but it felt just right. He let his hands wander, travelling up and down your body.

His fingers find your bra, unclipping it and letting it fall off. Your breasts move to the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Faster... Please Spencer faster!”

“What’s that my little slut? You want more? You gonna be a greedy little slut?”

You could feel your cheeks become a dark crimson color, slightly embarrassed at the degrading language he was using, but you nod nonetheless, wanting him to pound into you shamelessly.

“Very well. What a dirty slut wants, she gets.”

His pace quickens suddenly, each thrust into you sharp and hitting into you just right. Loud moans escape both yours and Spencer’s lips, the room becoming sweaty and sticky quickly.

“This want you want you whore? You just want to be fucked like a cheap whore?”

Pointless babbles fall out of your mouth, quiet “Yes” and “I’m your cheap whore” being mumbled as he pounded into from behind. 

A gasp escapes your lips as he lands another smack to your ass, leaving a burning sensation that felt so damn pleasurable after the initial sting.

A familiar pressure builds up between your thighs again, Your legs trembling under the Thunderous feeling of your orgasm washing over your entire body.

You had thought that two orgasms would have been enough for him, but he doesn’t let up, even flipping you back over and thrusting into you harder. 

“S-Spencer!”

You gasp and squirm as his fingers find your sensitive and swollen clit, pinching and rubbing it with his thumb and index finger. It felt like a wave of nerves jolting every bone, your back arching off of the cushion underneath you.

He continues pounding into you mercilessly, admiring the way your tits bounce at his pace, the way you so desperately panted for mercy, but your body betrayed you.

If you really wanted him to get off of you, you would have made it much more clear, you would have been pushing him off more, but you were more just clutching him closer than anything, wriggling your body around.

You couldn’t form any words at this point, chasing after your third orgasm endlessly. You manage to spot the hand that isn’t abusing your clit snake its way up your body, playing and pinching your nipples briefly before wrapping itself around your neck. 

Soft squeezes are delivered to your throat, making you whimper and whine, your own hands reaching his wrist for support, feeling up the vein-y muscles.

“Spencer! Spencer I’m gonna... I’m gonna cum!”

You whimper out, his hand tightens around your throat and his fingers rub your clit faster and harder, abusing the already raw nerves. 

Everything felt so overwhelming. Your body was shaking aggressively each time he rubbed your swollen nub, and the feeling of him pounding into your wet cunt repeatedly slamming your sweet spot mercilessly and choking you out at the same time was so raw and powerful. 

It felt unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. And with a broken moan, you came all over his cock, clenching around him and pushing him over the edge as well. 

He came right inside of you, riding out his high while slowing the rubs delivered to your clit. Your insides were twitching like crazy around his sensitive cock, making him groan while watching your entire body shake.

Soon after you both came, he pulled out, letting his cum drip out of you and onto the bed, pulling your body to sit up.

“Well, did I pass your test?”

You lazily nod at his question. You panted heavily, trying to chase after your breath.

“Holy shit Spencer... That was... Wow.”

He chuckled, grabbing your clothes off of the floor and placing them next to you.

“Need help cleaning up?”

You shook your head, meeting his starstruck eyes for the first time since he choked you. They were so bright, so in awe. 

“Alright, well I’m gonna head home so I don’t have to face the others. See you at work?”

“See ya.”

-

-

-

-

-

Twenty minutes later, Spencer had gone home and you had finished getting all of his cum out of you, and now you were fully dressed, making your way back to the others in a shell shocked state of mind.

Everyone else was trying their hardest not to laugh at the sight of your shaky legs when you stumbled into your chair, red hickies all over your neck. You sat with a blank stare in your eyes, chugging your water.

“So?”

Morgan asked, knowing the answer already but just wanting to hear it anyways.

“You were wrong.”

You managed to mumble out. Everyone broke out laughing, even Hotch and Rossi.

You continued to eat your wings, The memory of what just happened stuck on replay in your brain.

PERMANENT TAGLIST(OPEN) @pinkdiamond1016 @spencer-reids-snow-white @sheepfather @eusuntgroot @libradolan

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid x y/n #mgg #mgg fluff #mgg headcannon #mgg smut #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler fluff #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #luke alvez #david rossi

[burnedbyshoto]

indulge me

indulge me: an arrangement

— Being a secret little girl in the modern world is rough, but it becomes much more chaotic when a classmate of yours offers to be your new daddy dom.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, nsfw, ddlg dynamic, college!au, modern!au, daddy!shouto, little girl!reader, I am not well versed in this dynamic please do not use this as an educational source, dom!shouto, sub!reader, biting, marking, mating press, nipple play (both), spanking, oral, gagging, choking, praise, degradation, little space

word count: 13,547

a/n: this is a commission for @bakusbiatch​ thank you for your endless amount fo patience as it took me 100x longer than ever to write this

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If there was something you knew now that you completely did not understand at the age of eighteen was the entire dynamics of sex. To be fair, after an adolescence of watching porn, reading erotica, and even gossiping between friends, it was, without doubt, that you were entirely clueless about real, healthy dynamics.

First off, the first time you had sex was super uncomfortable. 

There was no break or even space for pleasure to build in because you had been so tense, so awkward that you remained rigid and still the entire three minutes the guy fucked into you. You remember his sweat-soaked body collapsing on top of you, his eyes seeing galaxies in the stuffy, now smelly room as he breathed out a ‘Woah.’

You had smiled at him stiffly, letting his softening dick flop out of your dry vagina and curled in on yourself as he snuggled into you, praising the world and everything around it for this moment. It was without saying that you left his cum stained sheets and ran back home.

Sex sucked.

But that was when you were seventeen and made the terrible decision on fucking your friend with whom you had scary sexual tension. You avoided sex to your best ability after that, not so much as caring to allow anyone to touch you because that was disappointing. Why would you go through that when your fingers sufficed much better? Why go through that awkward tension when you didn’t have any moments of awkwardness when reading smut?!

Audios were better.

Words were best.

But, as one does, you fell in love against your will to a boy just a few months older than you. His smile was soft, and his words were kind, but oh, did his touch drive you hot and mad. You weren’t exactly sure how long you had lasted, how much perseverance you had kept when the two of you would fall onto his (thank fucking god) clean sheets, his strong hands and fingers keeping your hips close to his as you kissed him as if you couldn’t live without his touch.

“Are you… are you ready?” he had asked, his shirt thrown into the abyss of his room and the button of your jeans undone, revealing the simple set of panties you had on. “I don’t want to—”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him, your body practically burning from the inside out with the desperate need and lust for him to fuck you. “I’m ready.”

He stills, his tongue peeking past his lips before a slow, chilling grin spreads against his mouth.

“Okay,” he nods, “can I ask you to do something, though?”

You, in your desperation to get his dick out of his sweats and buried deep into your throbbing cunt, nod.

“I have a daddy kink… I really, really like the daddy little girl dynamics,” he breathes, palms pressing to your knees and dragging down your inner thighs in a teasing, near authoritative way. “Can we… are you interested in trying it?”

Now, although you had largely avoided sex, toys and fingers weren’t nearly enough to replace the overwhelming need to be touched, fucked, and worshipped by another human being. You had fucked plenty of people who had always claimed to have kinks and fetishes. Most of the men you had in bed who said they had a daddy kink only liked being addressed as daddy; that was it. There was no true dynamic, just a play on the power the title brought them.

So, in the naive, childish way you were, you agreed.

You listened to his every command in bed, thrilled and keened under his praise for his princess, for his little girl, and you ate it up, thanking and praising your daddy. The sex ended with you cumming so hard you went blind for a moment, so dizzy from your high. As the both of you drifted off to sleep, you had no clue when you woke up in the morning he would present you with a little girl starter package made by him for you specifically. It was then that you realized that dynamics were an actual thing, and as he presented you a checklist of kinks, toys, and rules he laid out, you realized that nothing you had ever experienced — real or fictional — could have prepared you for this.

The two of you went through the list and rules together, your eyes widening and face blazing with embarrassment as he described his expectations and needs with this dynamic. You nodded, so completely lost in this entire thing that you agreed with most everything he offered and wanted.

The one rule you did have didn’t necessarily surprise him.

The dynamic was to remain a secret, you asserted, unable to budge on this thought. You could be his little girl, but it was to stay in private, never in public. And he tilted his head in thought but ultimately agreed with a smile. He thought you’d one day stop being in the closet over this kink, and you thought the opposite.

And time moves forward; it’s rigid and unforgiving. Two years into a relationship, a year and a half into the dynamic, you and your daddy break up, and you, against all odds, are left scrambling for a daddy you never realized you needed.

What was a girl to do?

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Your head is angled downward, and the hood that sits on your head is not concealing your face as well as you would have liked. It was without saying that you were a woman of pride. You took great care of what you did, how people viewed you, and how you presented yourself to the world. Most days, you always exited your small apartment as an excellent student who was always wearing properly done makeup and stylish outfits. 

Your style screamed confident woman (not little girl, you absolutely refused to wear anything cutesy in public), and you walked with your chin raised and eyes on the horizon.

To see that you were in sweats, an oversized hoodie, no makeup on, and perusing the store's area made for young girls and toddlers, was a shock. You had made sure to come nearly thirty minutes before closing; no one would be here to accidentally see you, no one could see you in your embarrassing shame-picking for your dynamic. All because your newest daddy couldn’t afford to buy you new things since your old ones had your ex’s name or brand all over it.

This was for the best; you reminded yourself as you haphazardly threw the items within the basket, face flaming as you ignored the temptation to simply stand in the aisle and flip through the sticker book and coloring book you recently tossed into the cart. You were fine; you already had your plan of action on what to say when purchasing these items.

‘My sister is pregnant again, and she already has a kid,’ you mentally rehearsed, imagining an excited smile on your face because you are excited for this imaginary pregnant sister of yours. ‘It’s a present for the baby and the brat.’

Solid.

Perfect.

Beautiful.

Making sure to quickly take note of what was inside the basket, you spun on your heel and marched your way through the empty store to the deserted register.

You kept your head down as you placed the basket on the conveyor belt, easy peasy, you would be fine!

“Found everything you were looking for?” a voice asks, piercing through your mental rehearsal just in case you got questions. 

You blink, head raising up, exposing your face to the person behind the register.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.

Checking things out at the register wasn’t supposed to be all that embarrassing. I mean, what could top having to buy pads and tampons from a creepy, greasy old man during your very first period ever?! But you had to admit seeing a familiar face behind the register as he began to scan the items in your cart kinda made it a big deal.

Todoroki Shouto read his name tag, and ‘TODOROKI SHOUTO?!’ screamed your heart. 

Oh, how to describe Todoroki Shouto, well you didn’t even know where to begin.

Shouto was one thousand percent a supermodel that has yet to be recruited. He could probably be a top star athlete, good enough to go overseas if he wanted. He was a genius. Someone who was somehow friends with everyone he came across even though he was a man of few words. 

He stood tall behind the register, the tight black high collared shirt sitting beneath a light blue opened dress shirt. His distinctive red and white slightly wavy hair — all-natural, you believe — pushed back in a way that you would bet to hell and back that he had run his fingers through it. For the past three years in university, you had more than a few classes with this stunning man. You two shared the same major, and he often sat at the back of the classroom, but you were nearly hyperaware of everything he did because his voice was liquid honey and sex and everything that was —

“You can let go of the basket,” Shouto cut through your thoughts, and you gasped loudly, suddenly realizing that you had zoned out thinking about him.

Your hand lets go of the basket, and you slap your sweater-covered hands over your mouth; horror strikes through you like a blazing sword. You weren’t wearing makeup, you were in trash clothes, and you were in front of a man you had lusting feelings over!

NO!

“Sorry!” you squeak, your heart and bile rising up your throat at alarming rates as Shouto merely smiles at you in understanding. “This is all stuff for my sister!”

Shouto blinks, his head tilting to the side as he scans a sippy cup.

“Your sister’s quite young,” he remarks easily, trying not to make you feel stupider—probably.

Tell the lie, y/n, you chide yourself as you shift your weight.

“Ah, well, not actually my sister,” you explain, fingers scratching against your scalp. “My sister is pregnant r-right now, and she already has a little one, so I thought that this would be a good… present?”

Nailed it.

Shouto’s eyebrows quirk, a small smile spreading across his face as he scans the plush doll. 

“That’s very kind of you; you must have a good relationship with your sister.”

“O-Oh yeah, we’re very close.”

“And would you say that this is something appropriate to give to a pregnant family member and their child?”

You froze and looked down at the items you had hastily thrown into the basket.

It was a pacifier, sippy cup, baby blanket, choker, coloring books, stuffed animal, candy, and stickers.

You choked, feeling heat exploding in your cheeks all over again; absolutely not. This was not something to give to a pregnant woman.

“My sister is pregnant,” Shouto explains, definitely sensing your poorly concealed stress, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m the youngest of my siblings, so I don’t really know what to buy her.”

“Absolutely the fuck not.”

Shouto blinked, and before you could start screaming apologies over your rudeness, he began laughing loudly. Your face continued to burn in your utter humiliation and shame, but Shouto only found amusement in this all as he began to place your items away in a bag. 

“What are your recommendations then?” Shouto finally asked, his lips pulled back into an easy, teasing grin. “And that’ll be forty-eight seventy-three.”

You shoved your card into the chip scanner immediately, your gaze everywhere but on him.

“I think you should get whatever your sister wants or still needs,” you quickly say, eyes now focusing on the Approved message on the machine. “Every person is different.”

“I suppose,” Shouto agrees, his arms crossing against his chest, and you have to resist the temptation to ogle at the way his muscles become sinfully pronounced. “Well, I won’t hold you up. See you in lecture tomorrow, y/l/n.”

“Bye!” you squawk, grabbing your bag and racing out.

His eyes burn into your back the entire rush out of the store, but you find that you can’t seem to worry about that. You’re much more elated and somehow horrified at the realization that he knew exactly who you were.

Step zero of who knows how many to get Todoroki Shouto to fall in love with you, complete!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“So, about the upcoming paper assignment, I’m sure you’re all eager to get started on,” your professor’s voice boomed throughout the lecture hall, his arms folding across his chest as he leans against the podium with an easy grin. “I decided that I would be nice and allow for some partnering up!”

Your eyes widened as excited murmurs exploded through the classroom. 

Partners for a ten-page paper? You were going to thank god almighty. 

But, at the same time, you frowned. This was a class where you didn’t exactly know anyone. It was a course outside of your own major, and with your usual friends not in this class, you knew that you were going to have to go out of your way to find a partner. You withered a bit in your chair, not entirely on board with that train of thought.

“There are an uneven amount of you guys in the class, though,” your professor continued, still sporting that easy grin on his face. “And I decided that instead of having too many groups of three, and because I was so nice to allow partner work, I decided to make the partners. Look at the pinned paper at the door for your partner or partners for the group of three! No, I will not allow trades, and no, I will not allow complaining! Be grateful!”

Hopeful and exasperated murmurs sounded through the room as the professor dismissed the class and frantic movement followed after. Even as old as they were, everyone was desperate and eager to see who a random generator assigned them to. Packing up swiftly, you threw your bag over your shoulder and began walking towards the list. 

You wonder who you were gonna get.

“Y/l/n,” a voice spoke softly, lowly by your ear.

You whipped around — one part startled, a second part curious — and came to see Todoroki Shouto standing slightly behind you. His gaze was at the wall for a moment, dropping only when you were looking up at him. He smiles slowly, and you feel your chest tighten.

Oh boy.

“Todoroki,” you smile, attempting to relax completely in front of him. “Any hopes as to who’s your partner?”

“Well, as long as it isn’t Sero, I think it’ll be okay,” Shouto’s eyes crinkle with his deepened smile. “Last time I did a paper with him, we did it completely high—” you choke, eyes widening at the thought of trying to be eloquent enough to write a paper while high. “—It was terrible.”

“Oh, I bet,” you laugh, arms crossing across your chest as the two of you begin inching forward within the crowd, others leaving with proud laughs, curious frowns, or aggravated groans. “But at least it sounds like it was turned in?”

“It was,” Shouto nods, his teeth flashing as he finally tears his gaze from you. “Oh, would you look at that?”

You hum, eyes squinting as you try to read the list through the many heads before you.

Y/l/n, Todoroki S.

“Would you look at that.”

“Seems like we’re partners,” you laugh, relief and horror flooding your body.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

So, it was decided that with the two weeks given to write the paper and taking Shouto’s job into account, this paper was to be written as soon as possible. The suggestion of working on it together in the same room and not just through google doc was brought up and agreed upon. So with consensus on that, the matter of where it was going to happen was brought up.

“We can do it at my place,” Shouto offered with a shrug, “my house is pretty big.”

“I don’t have a car,” you interject, a frown on your face — you wanted to see his house. “My apartment is five minutes from campus. Is that alright?”

A smile.

“That’s perfect.”

And so, on a Friday afternoon, you found yourself already apologizing profusely as you walked up the staircase that smelled just a tiny bit of cheese. You warned him about the mess of your apartment. About how not to judge you on any and all messes you might have made on your way out! That you would have cleaned up had you known this was happening!

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Shouto spoke, attempting to ease your anxiety as you push your key in the doorknob and turn it. “I really don’t mind a messy place.”

“Ha, well, this is it,” you say, your face feeling disgustingly warm as you breach the entrance to your small one bedroom one bathroom place. “Leave your shoes right there, and we can head in!”

Toeing off your own shoes, you scrambled into the apartment, eyes wide as you attempted to make sure that nothing was crazily messy or out of place. There wasn’t any dirty laundry or undergarments anywhere? No, good!

Shouto locks the door behind himself, a chuckle at the back of his throat vibrating in his chest as he watches you skirt about. He looks down at the shoes you were wearing, white sneakers, and smirks at how small they look compared to his. He never really thought he was that tall or big, to be honest. It was a decent size for someone from his family, but it amused him greatly to see his things pushed against yours.

He looked back up, eyes landing on your flustered face as you stood by a table in the kitchen area.

“Ready?” he asked, hands shoving into his pockets.

“I believe so!”

And for some reason, probably the very same reason that had him entranced by you, Shouto laughs and steps foot into your apartment.

The paper itself isn’t that hard.

It’s an argumentative piece mostly on a Green Act proposal that was currently being debated within the government body. A paper that was fifty percent argument was something you were elated to have, but the other fifty percent was using sources and articles to further back your point. It was now two hours into the paper writing, takeout filling the empty spaces between the table as Shouto’s laughter and your ranting filled the open air. It was nice; he was nice to hang out with.

“I’m just saying we are nearing a universal climate disaster, and I do not want to be wondering when I will die because some fat old men with huge wallets want to continue getting richer!” you yelled, your chest heaving with your lack of proper air. “It’s dumb!”

“I bet if you grabbed ahold of their favorite toupees, they’d fold and agree,” Shouto teases, his grin covered by the mug he’s currently drinking tea from. “I’ll bail you out of prison.”

“I wouldn’t go to prison for that,” you argue, arms folding across your chest as you shake your head in solemn understanding. “They’d murder me and make it look like an accident.”

“Dark.”

“You know it.”

“I’ll avenge you.”

“You better, or else I’ll blame you for my murder.”

Shouto’s jaw dropped, ready to retaliate with something else, but he was interrupted by a loud call from your phone. You frowned, head tilting as you pulled your phone out from your jean pocket and stared at the screen.

Incoming call from: dd.

“I have to take this,” you say apologetically, standing up as you answered the call. You waited until you were in your bedroom before placing the phone to your head, your heart hammering with the unknown. “Hello?”

.

Shouto heard the click of your bedroom door, and he sighed, leaning back into his chair. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, momentarily bored now that he wasn’t with you. He wondered who ‘dd’ was and if you were alright. He hoped it wasn’t anything serious.

Grabbing his water cup, Shouto frowned, seeing that it was empty. He looked over at the sink where you had initially filled up the water cups. You wouldn’t mind if he filled it up on his own, right? Shouto pushed back his chair and stood, the cup resting in his fingers as he walked over towards the sink with a light hum.

He filled the cup slowly, not wanting to make too much noise. But as he stared at the drying dishes on your dish holder, he frowned at the sight of the pink sippy cup you had bought from the store last week. It was cleaned, obviously used, and he tilted his head.

Weird.

The cupboard was open, and Shouto couldn’t help but look into the dark wood and startled once again when he took in the neatly folded bib and the nearly innocuous pacifier sitting on top of it. Untouched, undisturbed, but used — definitely used.

Frowning, he took a slow, long drink of his water as he stared out towards the small living room you had. There, sitting on the wood coffee table, was the coloring book you had also purchased. That wasn’t adding up… if they were for your sister’s kids, why were they here? It didn’t exactly seem like the place to be holding them. 

Shouto thought, trying to figure out just why you had all these things for… well, children.

Was testing products on your own a thing people did?

Well, yes, he supposed so, but these were already licensed products. The coloring book, well, he guesses that was a pretty normal thing! Drawing and coloring were everyday stress relieves — his mother often used that to help herself. But a pacifier, a bip, and a sippy cup? The only thing he could rationalize with that was—

“You’re being fucking ridiculous, daddy!” your voice harshly whispered (maybe ridiculed and mocked) from your room, just loud enough that Shouto heard, and his eyes widened.

Oh.

Ohh fuck.

.

.

.

“You know what, this isn’t working,” you scoff, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you roll your eyes to the heavens above. “This was a good trial run, but I’m going to have to end this. This is not what I was looking for.”

“Come on, brat, you know you don’t mean that—”

You hung up, your fingers curled in a fist as you growled lowly at the screen. You wasted no time in blocking the number. What a fucking terrible daddy he was. Didn’t buy you anything, didn’t support you, or help you. There was no dynamic in this relationship. It was just a power-hungry dom with a streak for being called daddy.

A fucking poser at best.

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your phone onto your bed and walked out of your room back to the main area of your place. You looked at Shouto, who was sitting in his chair, his face bored, maybe a bit tired, and his face was concentrated on his phone — he was idly scrolling through it.

“Sorry that took so long,” you apologize, slinking back onto your chair, hands rubbing your face. “I tried to be fast about that.”

Shouto peered past the top of his phone, a comforting smile on his face, “Don’t worry about it; it wasn’t like we were intensely working on the paper anyways.”

You smile, slightly embarrassed. 

“That’s true, um—”

“I think it’s time—”

The both of you spoke over each other clumsily, awkwardly — both of you obviously thinking of something that wasn’t quite in front of you. Your smile feels less forced now, “we’re done for the day?”

Shouto shifts in his chair, his head dropping slightly in agreement, “I think that would be best. We did a lot today, though.”

“We did!” you agree with a laugh, standing up and grabbing the items off the table, assisting Shouto with getting ready to leave. “We’ll meet back up in two days?”

Shouto nods, “that sounds like a plan.”

You help him pack up, insisting that you could clean up the kitchen without his help. It takes a few minutes, but finally, you have him walking out of your place, a light wave on your hand before he exits onto the staircase. You close the door with a sigh.

Jesus Christ.

.

.

Shouto stands in the stairway, his eyes concentrated on his phone where he has a single question typed into his browser.

ddlg dynamics ↳ Let’s talk DDLG, also known as Daddy Dom Little Girl. It’s a submissive/dominant relationship where the dom is known as a “Daddy,” and the submissive is known as a “Little Girl.”

...Interesting.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Now, you were a pretty paranoid person; you could admit that. 

You didn’t like being paranoid, but you were. Most days, you always triple-checked you weren’t being followed, quadruple-checked you had your school assignments turned in and your things in your bag. With your sex life and part of your social life being introduced to the ddlg dynamic, your paranoia grew even more.

Most people weren’t understanding — they weren’t. They assumed this dynamic was simply calling your dom daddy in bed and getting called princess in return! They always believed that, allowed for that. It was socially acceptable to call your dom daddy in bed, but god fucking forbid any other part of the dynamic come into play.

You remember reading comments in articles about grown women sitting in frilly skirts and diapers as part of her dynamic and watching grown adults tear her apart — skin and bones. That was the reaction you feared, you hated.

There was a reason why you enjoyed sitting in your frilly skirts, in your white and baby pink clothes. You loved having your dom come home, tired and stressed, and ask you, his little girl, to sit on his lap while he distressed. You enjoyed the sippy cups that helped to melt your anxiety, and you enjoyed doing chores under your doms watchful eye.

The praises, the rewards were always so uplifting, and the sex was always on an intensity that made you tremble with explosive satisfaction. If your dom wanted you in diapers, you would negotiate appropriately, and you sure as hell didn’t need a fucking stranger’s opinion on whether or not that was ‘normal.’

But no amount of confidence you had in your dynamic had ever eased the bottomless paranoia and anxiety. 

Hence why after Shouto had left your apartment and you realized in horror that you had left out some damning evidence to your dynamic. The coloring book on your coffee table and the sippy cup that was obviously used were on full display. You wondered for a few hours, nearly spirling with anxiety if he had noticed — if that was why he was partially stiff as he left for the day. You had only managed to calm down when he had sent you a text later that night that he had enjoyed being over and was looking forward to working together the next day.

The praise was needed, seeping warm into your bones as you rolled over in your bed and knocked out.

You thought that you were in the clear. That that was as far as things were going to go, but your paranoia came back the next day in full force as you sat in a group with Shouto.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Do you want a sticker?”

That was the beginning of it all.

You had accepted the sticker without a second thought. Your typical barriers down because the lack of a dom in your life was throwing you for a bit. God, you were pathetic. You had smiled brightly, eagerly nodding as you thrust your hands out towards Shouto, waiting to receive a sticker. 

“Good job,” he had said with an endearing smile, “you deserve it.”

It was only then that the weight of what happened settled on your bones, and you froze.

Fuck.

Smiling stiffly, you pressed the sparkly pink star to your shirt and returned back to your assignment, unable to speak up again for some time.

You had hoped that it was going to end there, but it seemed that nothing about your life was going in your favor right now. 

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Do you have a bedtime?” Shouto idly asked one late night when he was over, and you could not stop yawning to save your life. “I think everyone should go to bed at 10 p.m. on a school night, don’t you agree?”

You had choked on your saliva before disagreeing vehemently. 

“I don’t sleep until… like, um, three in the morning?” you make up, teeth tearing into your lip as you avoided eye contact.

“Such a bad girl,” Shouto murmured, much too low for you to pick up.

“What?!”

“That’s bad for your health,” he recovered with a smile.

“Oh… yeah, I suppose so.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Y/l/n is a sub; she’s a brat about that,” Shouto said to the group you both were assigned to in yet another class the two of you shared.

You had been idly drinking from your coffee cup and was utterly zoned out when he said that. So when you had picked up his words, you nearly choked at the sentence, your eyes watering and your throat burning with your drink and humiliation as the entire table turned to look at you.

“Oh shit, are you okay?!” Mina asked, eyes wide.

“I’m a what?!” you splutter instead, eyes focused on Shouto and your cheeks beginning to burn with unsaid fear.

“You’re a substitute babysitter for your sister,” Shouto remarked, his head tilted as he feigned innocence. “You were telling me about that the other day, remember? Sero is trying to get into the babysitting gig too.”

You wanted to believe him, you wanted so desperately to believe that Shouto was just somehow landing a missile into every paranoid corner of your life without meaning to, but this was getting out of control. This was too on the head, too obvious to not say that he somehow saw your little things and pieced together the dynamic you’ve come to love and thrive in. But you couldn’t fess up; you wouldn’t give yourself to the wolves of embarrassment and shame over something you knew wasn’t wrong.

“Oh,” you say stiffly, smiling over at Sero, “I’m on an app that is used a lot by small families; I can text you the name?”

“I’d appreciate that!” Sero laughs, blissfully unaware of the rising tension between you and Shouto. “I didn’t think that high school girls had some type of business turf thing; they’re scary and aggressive!”

“It’s a serious job for high schoolers,” Mina waved him off, “this is the only thing most of them can do!”

The conversation between Sero and Mina began to drift off as you were staring at Shouto, unable to break the eye contact the both of you found yourselves connected by. You didn’t want to pull away, too bitter and anxious to. You were currently two weeks without a daddy dom in your life, and you knew that you should be able to have a better grasp on your life than this — you knew you couldn’t lean on this dynamic at every point in your life. But you were sad to admit that you were struggling to keep your head afloat. You felt like you were almost drowning, struggling to keep your composure as you needed a play or a simple scene.

But the confidence in Shouto’s eyes that were hidden behind the sheer curiosity and wonder was making your skin itch, making you want to grab him by the collar and bring him in close and demand to know exactly what he was thinking. 

He would not embarrass you.

He would not.

“Can I talk to you, Todoroki?” you asked, practically demanded of Shouto as the group of you began to stand at the table, readying to leave. 

If you noticed Mina’s and Sero’s eyebrows shoot up towards the ceiling, you didn’t say anything as Shouto paused in putting things into his backpack. His head tilted, but he nodded his head, “yeah, about what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile stiffly, tossing your own backpack over your shoulder as you turn on your heel and immediately begin walking. Uncaring if he was following you or not. “Bye, Mina, Sero.”

There’s silence behind you before the heady sound of a chair scraping against the floor is heard and the long, quick strides of Shouto following after you. You exit the cafe you had been in, eyes squinting when the harsh rays of sun fall on your face, but you don’t hesitate or pause even once.

There’s no one outside right now; it’s just you and Shouto. 

You feel him at your shoulder, and you keep your gaze straight ahead, unwilling to look at him just yet. 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you finally whisper, your voice low and angry. You nearly spat them out at him, utterly humiliated and horrified that you were probably outing yourself should he just be that dense and annoyingly able to pick at your anxiety. “Stop it.”

“I don’t—” Shouto began, eyes wide and screaming of innocence that could make you cry.

“I know you saw my things, and I know you pieced it together,” you cut him off, your lips pursed tight. You suddenly stop in your tracks, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you turn to face Shouto. “So if you have a problem with that, I suggest that you kindly fuck off!”

Shouto stands next to you, hair hastily swept backward, hand on the strap of his bag, and his face telling you that you had miscalculated something. You prayed it wasn’t about how he knew about you being a little.

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Shouto admits, his hand raising to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t think you’re weird or strange or bad for being into the ddlg dynamic. I’m actually… I take part in it too. I was trying to subtly tell you that I was into it as well, and well, I heard that you and your last dom broke it off… I wanted to tell you that I was interested in becoming your new dom.”

You blink.

“Eh?!”

“I’m interested in forming an agreement with you?” Shouto tilts his head; there’s a sense of seriousness to his face, his eyes innocent. “I need a little, and if you’re looking for a dom…”

He lets the silence fill the rest of his sentence, and your mouth gapes open as blood rushes to your face at the straightforward request.

“I… I barely know you!” you splutter, your heart in your ears as you can barely comprehend what was going on. 

Two weeks ago, Todoroki Shouto was practically a stranger. You knew him about as well as a person knew the barista at their favorite coffee shop. Friendly, but not close. Definitely not close enough for you to say that you would allow for him to see you in your little space, for him to give you a list of rewards and punishments — for possible sex?!

“Most caregiver contracts like this are done between people who know even less,” Shouto shrugs, his arms folded across his chest. “You don’t have to say yes now or even agree, but I like you a lot. I want to pursue a relationship with you, and I assumed that this would be a good starting ground especially if you need it.”

Your tongue sweeps across your lips, unable to come up with a single rationale thing to say. 

“I don’t need an answer right now; indulge me, though,” Shouto smiles softly, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Take as much time as you need. We can do a single scene to test it out, and if it doesn’t work out, no hard feelings. Let me know when you’re interested in it, though.”

You can’t say anything; you can only numbly nod as Shouto smiles at you once again.

“Let me know.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [received Today 23:44]

Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [seen 7 Days Ago 23:44]

You: ↳ Send your points, we can see if we’re compatible. [seen now]

Todoroki S.: ↳ I enjoyed the scene we did today; I hope you did too. I’m interested in making this a real thing if you are too. [received Today 20:44]

You: ↳ I did, too, actually, lol. Um, thank you, first of all! We can work on the contract now. [received Today 20:48]

Todoroki S.: ↳ Okay. I’ve already made the first draft of one; if you’d like to look it over, let me know what you think, and we can edit some things around. [seen now]

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It has been two months since the contract was signed.

Two months.

Two months of Shouto practically living in your apartment with you, a once stranger seeing you at your most vulnerable. He was a steady hand on your back as you slipped into your desired little space, a constant warmth at your side as you went about your day at home. 

It had been weird at first; your anxiety still wouldn’t let up, nearly convincing you many times that this was all but a prank. That Shouto would pull away from you when you least expected it and would expose you to the world. There had been many times where he would hold you on his lap, his arms warm around your back, your favorite stuffed animal sitting on your lap as he promised you that you were wrong.

“Daddy is here to protect you, sunshine,” Shouto murmured in your ear, his warm lips pressing to the small behind your ear. “Daddy would never do that to my baby girl. That wouldn’t make me happy.”

“I-It wouldn’t?” you sniffled, your nose face nuzzling further into his neck as your sobs had finally stopped. 

“No, not at all, sunshine,” Shouto smiled against the crown of your head. You felt his lips press a soft kiss there, his warm hands stroking up and down your back. “Do you remember what makes Daddy happy?”

You blink, your wet eyelashes heavy and sticking together as you peer at his jaw as if it could possibly tell you.

“I can’t… I can’t remember, sorry, Daddy,” you sniffle again, suddenly terrified that he would be upset with you. You were such a terrible baby girl.

“What makes Daddy happy is seeing his baby girl smiling, happy, protected, and safe,” Shouto easily relays, pulling you away from his shoulder, his calloused fingers rubbing the tear streaks that still stain down your face. “I promise that I will never do anything to cause you harm, sunshine. I only want you to be happy; you being happy makes me happy like nothing before.”

There’s no stopping the way your bottom lip trembles with the pleasant weight of his words, the way it warms you from your belly and curls to your toes.

“Pinky promise?” you whimper, somehow out of breath.

Shouto looks at your curved pinky that is extended out for him to hold, to seal the other half of a promise he has no intentions of ever breaking.

Smiling softly, Shouto wraps his pinky with yours and twists it gently, locking the promise.

“Pinky promise,” he affirms, placing a kiss to your knuckles.

.

.

He was so good to you.

So sweet, gentle, patient, and kind.

He tended to spend the night Mondays through Fridays, giving you the weekend to be on your own. He only ever slept in your bed with your given consent (which was every single time), and there was just something about wearing the silver chained choker on your neck that he bought for you. Dainty and cute, nothing too crazy to draw overwhelming attention.

It had a tiny cherry blossom that was engraved with Shouto on the back.

It was a constant and calming reminder of what you had during the day.

The arrangement was going better than you had assumed it was going to be.

Shouto made for an excellent daddy, but there was one grievance you had. With two months of extreme kinship, so many nights of being curled into his side, getting near-daily cuddles for following his orders perfectly, and a few spanks because you were careless even after he warned you — you had assumed that the sexual part of the dynamic would come out. 

You had okayed for him to be able to fuck you, regardless of whether or not you were in little space! You reached your little space more often than not around him because he was so well, but now you were bordering desperation. You wanted your daddy to please you more, to give you the reward you wanted most: his cock.

“I’m home, bunny,” Shouto called out, his voice hinting exhaustion but mostly satisfaction at being home again.

Per your rules and regulations, greeting Shouto with a cheerful ‘welcome home, daddy!’ when he arrived home was a must. It was a clear indicator that not only were you home but that you wished to indulge in the dynamic for the rest of the day.

But you sat at the coffee table wearing an unapproved, not chosen outfit for home.

You were wearing an off-the-shoulder white cotton shirt that was big and soft, pink lace shorts that barely covered your ass but was hemmed with lace and pretty frill. You had thigh highs on as well that were the same pink as your shorts. There was a pacifier in your mouth, your gaze focused on the Disney coloring book in front of you as you colored in Sleeping Beauty. 

You turned your head, eyes looking at your daddy with a vague look of disinterest before turning back to your coloring.

“I said ‘I’m home,’ bunny,” Shouto restated, giving you the benefit of the doubt of whether or not you heard him. Typically you were excited to have him home, going to his side immediately and asking a million questions as to what he had been doing and why he was home so late. 

“Hmph,” was your response as you placed a sticker onto the coloring page.

Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed; he toed off his shoes and began walking towards you, assessing what was happening. 

“Is my bunny mad that I was a bit later than I had promised?” he asked, sitting on the couch behind you, his fingers brushing across your clothes as if he was trying to remember if he had selected this outfit. But the sudden touch that you were craving in a way like no other made your head spin just so, and you resisted the motion of caving.

You wanted to be a brat! Your daddy should be taking care of all your needs! He promised he would be taking care of you better than you took care of yourself! He should know when you wanted his cock!

“Hmph!” you hrmph again, and you lean out of his touch even though you craved it. 

Although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the slow, calculating blink Shouto took at this action. There’s a moment of silence before the couch sounds under his shifting weight. You freeze at the feeling of his warm palm on your spine, a whisper of danger. It feels partially like a threat, a reminder of impending consequences.

“What did daddy say about bunny using her words?” Shouto asks, his voice stern, low, commanding. 

It should scare you, but the threat in his voice makes your heart stammer and your cunt wet. So, instead of doing what’s right, you stand up, ignoring him yet again as you stick your nose up to the ceiling and try to walk away. 

Well, you try to, that is.

Before you can go too far, Shouto’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, keeping you in place.

 “You know I don’t like it when you don’t speak, right?” Shouto asks, his eyes digging into your cheek as you refuse to look at him. Yet another rule he has in place. You had to look at him when he spoke to you or when you spoke to him. It was to help make sure that you behaved properly in public — to make you the best baby girl ever. “Use your words and look at me, princess.”

The word princess rolled off his tongue, and you bit down on your tongue to keep the breathy moan from expelling from your lips. He typically only used princess when you were on the verge of genuinely displeasing him, when he was warning you one last time before a punishment was given. Your daddy was two months without jacking off, exhausted from work, and now dealing with you, his bratty baby girl. There was no way this wasn’t going to end with him forcing you to suck him off or to use you as an onahole (something you had said was okay unless you used your safeword, of course).

You shook in his hold, teeth biting your lip as you stared at the wall, refusing to heed his command.

“I’ll give you to the count of three to look at me and address me,” Shouto says, his thumb stroking the innard of your wrist. “One.”

There was no way you would cave.

“Two.”

The silence between the two of you was heavy.

“One.”

Excitement shot through you at the thought of him finally fucking you into your mattress.

“No dessert tonight,” is what Shouto said instead, and you froze.

You whipped your head towards Shouto, fury, and humiliation painting your face as your jaw drops, the pacifier falling onto the floor.

“No!”

“No?” Shouto repeats, his eyes narrowed, unhappy with the challenge. “Do you want me to take away your video games too?”

“No!” you shriek, hands clawing at your face because this was not going the way it was going. “I want my dessert and my video games!”

“Too bad, princess,” Shouto states sternly, unaffected by your growing tantrum. “You lost them both for tonight.”

“No! Give them back! I haven’t done anything wrong, daddy!” you scream, throwing your arms in your hysterics as Shouto stands up to his full height, looming over you without a single issue. Tears prick at the back of your eyes because you’ve messed up somehow; your daddy doesn’t want you — doesn’t love you the way you love him.

“You’ve been misbehaving this entire time I’ve come back home,” Shouto retorts, his other hand grabbing your wrist and managing to place them both close to his chest, limiting your thrashing actions. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the new outfit.”

“I don’t want those punishments, daddy! I don’t want t-them,” you wheeze, your eyes locked on your hands that are bound so tightly in his hands, and you whimper loudly. “You’re hurting me, daddy!”

“And you’re trying to hurt me,” Shouto calmly points out. “I can’t have you doing that, so I’ll hold onto you until you calm down enough. I’m doing this because I care for my little brat.”

“You don’t care! You don’t c-care!” you sob finally, unable to keep the hot tears from your eyes. “Daddy doesn’t care about me!”

The effect is evident and instant.

Shouto’s grip on your wrist lessens altogether, and your pounding fists finally connect with his chest as you collapse against him.

“Daddy doesn’t c-care…”

“That’s not true,” Shouto breathes easily, his fingers brushing against your sides before his arms wrap around you. “I care so much for you, baby. What’s wrong? Tell me what I can do to make things better.”

A loud sniffle emits from you, and you fist your hands in his shirt, your head shaking. 

“It’s been two months, and daddy won’t let me have his cummies,” you whisper, terrified that he would reject you. “Am I not good enough? Attractive enough that daddy wants to reward me with his dick?”

There’s a shift in the air.

“My little doll wants her daddy’s cock, is that what?” Shouto murmured against the top of your head. “My precious, innocent baby girl wants something filthy like that.”

“Mmn,” was all you could manage, your face burning at the implications, the suggestion in his voice. 

“And instead of using her words, as we practice, she decided to act like a little brat to get her way,” Shouto’s voice is low, raspy, and deep. Its tenor is just right that it makes the room instantly hotter, your body brimming with excited energy. “I think… my beautiful doll has broken too many rules for me to just give her a good reward. She deserves to be my little doll as punishment for now. I thought she was grown enough to ask for things she wanted.”

You gasp as Shouto’s warm, calloused hands drop down to the minimally exposed flesh between your booty shorts and your thigh highs. It sends an entire wave of goosebumps down your skin, and you shudder as they rise upwards, slipping under your shirt and resting on the soft skin of your stomach. 

“Your punishment will be what daddy wants it to be, doll,” Shouto states, his fingernails brushing over your clothed nipples, and you mewl at the touch. “You’ve given up your right to speak right now, and because daddy can’t trust you to not be a brat, you will suck daddy’s dick until I see it fit. You will stand on your knees like the beautiful doll daddy knows you can be. Silent, obedient, and so beautiful.”

The words are a goldmine you’ve wanted to hear this entire time, but you’re upset — rightfully upset — that it took your daddy so long to figure it out! He needed you to spell it out for him to act on it!

“I don’t like sucking dicks!” you complain, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “That’s yucky!”

Shouto raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes flashing dangerously as he absorbed the implications of your actions. He knew he was going to earn this just as much as you were.

“Excuse me?” Shouto says calmly, a single eyebrow arched. “Do you want to repeat that?”

“You heard m-me,” you stammer, trying to remain steady under his steady stare. “If daddy couldn’t catch that, maybe I should be the one giving out the punishments.”

A hot, predatory smirk pulls across his face as his grip on your wrist tightens, and he yanks you just slightly closer towards him.

“Oh really?” he chuckles so coldly you shiver. “So you think you’re in charge here?”

You nod slowly, your pupils wide and blown. Your eyes were transfixed on his mouth, his pretty plump lips practically calling your name. 

His tongue swipes across his front teeth, and you watch him in awe, horror, and damning horny anticipation as he sits back on the couch and takes you down with him. You struggle for a bit, terrified as you feel unbalanced, ready to tumble to the floor. But your stomach is pressed heavily against his knees, pleasurable discomfort spreading through your body as you recognize this easy, beautiful spanking position. 

“I’m going to give you ten spanks,” Shouto announces, his hand rubbing smooth circles over your soft shorts. “You will count every one of them and thank me for each one. If you mess up, if you misbehave, you will get more until you do as I demand.”

You struggle against his hold, thrashing and twisting as his fingers push the shorts higher up your ass, exposing your flesh to him. But as he did so, you remember that you’re not wearing panties, and Shouto sees that too.

“Mm, you’re not wearing panties,” Shouto says, his voice trying to keep the undying want and lust from bleeding through his tone. “My precious doll is that desperate she couldn’t fully dress herself?”

“I can d-dress— aahhh!!!!”

Your interjection was interrupted by the sharp, well-practiced spank that Shouto delivered to your round ass. You arched against his lap, your skin tingling and feeling pathetically good. 

“I said you were my doll right now, and dolls don’t speak unless given permission to,” Shouto clipped, his hand circling your now tender flesh. “You didn’t count, so let's try again.”

SLAP.

“Oh my god!” you shriek at the contact, your head spinning at the craved touch. It wasn’t like his typical spanks, the ones that came down not to hurt but to remind you, to correct you to be better. These stung with power, reminding you that you were getting what you craved, and you felt your toes curl and your cunt beginning to seep with the knowledge.

Fuck, you wanted this.

THWACK.

“Again.”

THWACK.

“Daddy can spank your pretty little ass all day, doll. Do as you’re told if you want daddy’s cock.”

SPANK.

“O-One, thank you, daddy!”

WHACK!

You threw your head back at the sensation, your eyes crossing and your hips bucking backward as you shriek with pleasure. You don’t count, your head swimming with unfound energy, and Shouto tsks.

“You’re so terrible at following directions, aren’t you?” Shouto asks, his mouth hovering by your ear, and you nearly melt when his teeth tug at your cartilage at the same time he serves another heated spank to your perky ass. “Such a dirty brat, getting off on her punishments. But let me tell you, if you don’t start following what I instruct of you, I’ll fuck your mouth and leave you without any cummies.”

You gasp loudly, sobbing as he delivers yet another solid spank for your undoubtedly bruising ass. And so, with a pathetic, desperate nod, you agree.

You count to ten, thanking him each time with a beautiful sob that makes the bulge in his pants obvious to you. Your lips are swollen, bruised, and sheen with saliva from holding back your louder sobs. Your ass seems to be imprinted with the shape of his hand against your skin, and you tumble off his lap at the final thank you.

There’s slick gathered on your shorts, soaking through the pretty pink fabric turning it dark. 

“I forget that my beautiful baby girl is a masochist,” Shouto sighs as he stands up in front of you. You gasp on the floor, your head swimming with the building heat between your legs, and you hear an all too familiar, always exciting, sound of a belt being undone followed quickly by a zipper and rustling fabric.

“God, you’re so wonderful, doll,” Shouto sighs as he pulls out his hardening cock to where you’re already on your knees with wide, curious, hopeful eyes. “Already on your knees, ready to choke on daddy’s cock even though this is a punishment.”

You can barely register his words, your eyes focused and fascinated — scared almost — of the cock Shouto has. It’s fucking huge, and it’s thick, slightly curved upward with a pretty flushed tip and bulging veins. You were sure if you could even manage to take more than a few inches in!

“I think I remember something about how you don’t like deep throating,” Shouto hums contemplatively. You freeze, your heart stopping for just a moment at what he’s implying. “Well, it’s a good thing this is a punishment.”

His fingers press into your mouth, making you choke, and with your lips spread wide, mouth open for taking, Shouto guides his cock into your parted lips with a dangerous moan. 

There's an immediate ache in your jaw, the size, and girth of his cock overwhelming you without so much doubt. You gag immediately at the weight of it pressing on your tongue, filling your mouth. Heat hammers in your cunt, and you heave against him.

Shouto sighs as if he was in heaven, his hands grabbing the back of your head and slamming your head as far down his cock. So far that your nose brushed against the skin of his stomach, before pressing against it completely. 

Shouto moans louder than your panicked gags and chokes, his hips swirling and twisting as he looks down at you with lovesick eyes. “You’re so good at this,” Shouto praises, his fingers wiping away the tears that prick at your eyes. “So good.  Daddy’s so pleased with you, taking my cock so well. So beautiful even when you cry on my dick.”

Your throat spasms around his cock, your lungs burning severely from the lack of oxygen. Not a single part of your body able to relax as you desperately sought to breathe. It hurt, but it felt so good. Saliva began to pool from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin and drooling on your clothed breasts.

Shouto took notice and hummed contently.

“Daddy’s going to count to the number ten,” he informed you, rolling his hips further into your mouth, shoving his cock even further down your throat than you thought possible. “If you can keep your pretty nose pressed to daddy’s stomach the entire time, daddy promises you he will give you the best orgasm you’ve ever received.”

You made a squeaking noise around his cock, your fingers that were buried into his shirt gripping tighter as he suddenly lets go of your head.

“One.”

Resisting the urge to pull off him completely was a near-losing battle.

“Two.”

Your body shook with intensity, the scorching need to properly breathe slamming down on you.

“Three… four…”

Shouto’s hands began to pet your head, soothing the worried lines on your face, brushing away your tears.

“Five… six… fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby girl.”

You whimper around his cock, and Shouto moans liquid gold in return. He smiles deviously, fingers brushing down your throat.

“Seven… eight…” you choke loudly when his fingers press against your throat, tightening your already spasming throat around his cock, furthering the burning sensation all throughout your body. “Nine…”

You look at him with pleading eyes, wordlessly begging for mercy, for something as he pauses for more than a second between nine and ten. His hips lazily jerk into your mouth, his free hand combing his hair back, messily styling it as he smirks. Your saliva was dripping uncontrollably now, pooling at the back of your throat, on your tongue, past your lips. Shouto sighs, his eyes bright with power, with the knowledge that you were so obedient.

“Ten.”

Immediately, you collapse from his cock. Saliva and pre-cum connecting your coughing mouth to his hard dick still. Your lungs ache, and your breathing is frantic as you try to regain a sense of composure. Your tears meaning nothing so long as the inferno between your thighs is tamed. 

“You did so well, baby girl,” Shouto praises, and despite the pain in your lungs, you puff up at the praise. “You did exactly what daddy asked for you, so daddy believes you deserve a reward. Do you agree?”

Unable to speak, your belly tight and warm, and your throat aching slightly, you nod eagerly.

“Use your words, angel,” Shouto coos; he steps out of his pants before squatting before you, his fingers grazing your chin. “Daddy loves it when he hears you speaking.”

“I would love a r-reward, daddy,” you whimper softly. 

Your eyes swim with want, with inexplicable needs and desires. Shouto softens when he notices you nosing into his palms; he brushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“Look at how politely you asked that,” Shouto praises, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth. “Daddy’s so proud of you, sweetheart.”

You keen some more, your wet eyelashes batting in your excitement and undying love for him.

“Now, daddy wants you to go to your room and take off all the clothes you want. Once you’re ready, I want you to call me in, and then daddy will take excellent care of you, okay?” Shouto commands you, his lips pressing softly onto your cheeks, eyelids, and finally softly onto your lips.

You gasp loudly at the touch, your eyes wide but looking incredibly drunk at the touch.

“Okay!” you giggle, pressing forward and taking his lips into another kiss.

He hums before assisting you to your feet, and you breathlessly laugh as you turn around and skip away towards your room. 

Your room is neat, as is required of Shouto. Your bed is neatly organized; there’s nothing on the floor or on your chair. Everything is put away correctly and cleanly. Grinning, you take off your shirt followed by your bra, shimming off your shorts, you toss away your clothes into your hamper, leaving only your socks on.

Hopping onto your bed, you grab a stuffed animal before turning to face the door and sing.

“Daddy, I’m ready!!!”

You squeal after saying that, excitedly staring at the closed door, eagerly anticipating the way Shouto would walk in. Your eyelashes flutter when you see the doorknob twist and in comes Shouto, who, unlike you, is completely naked.

Now you knew he was fit, even with your mind beginning to sink into your little space, you knew that Shouto was a handsome, fine man. He was built, muscular, and toned. He was tall, his head nearly hitting the top of the door if it wasn’t for the fact he was leaning against the doorframe. There is a slight smile on his face that screams of his pride, his joy of seeing you like this. And his eyes rake like hot coals against your body.

You shudder.

“Aren’t you cute,” Shouto murmurs, pride evident in his tone. He walks towards you, tongue slipping between his lips as he reaches the foot of the bed. “Such a beautiful princess, but now… what does princess need?”

“I need my daddy to take care of me,” you whisper, eyes hooded and mouth turning dry as he begins leaning onto the bed. “I want my daddy.”

“Such a dirty girl,” Shouto says with a chuckle as you begin to lean back onto your bed, your legs spreading for him. “Such a dirty, gorgeous girl.”

Your breathing stutters as the bed moves under his weight, and you’re practically panting as you watch his body slowly crawl over yours. Shouto looks down at you, his eyes deceivingly bright even with the shadows, and your eyes flutter as he leans down. 

You’re expecting a kiss, craving the feeling of his smooth, plump lips on yours. But you gasp in shock, betrayal, and in lust when his lips press against your earlobe. He trails his kisses everywhere, kissing every inch, every centimeter of your face, but never once your lips.

“Daddy, stop teasing!!” you whine loudly, feet kicking on the mattress and hands burying into his hair.

“I’m not teasing you,” Shouto objects, but the grin on his face says otherwise. “Why do you think I’m teasing you? What do you want?” 

“I want daddy’s kisses! Give me your kisses!” you cry with a pout.

With a burst of cheerful laughter that warms your heart and makes your belly flip, Shouto presses downward, capturing your lips with his. The contact is blissful, everything and more that you need. You eagerly kiss him back, making noises that are both sinful and so blessedly innocent as your arms wrap around his neck.

Shouto kisses you back with matching intensity, one elbow resting by your head, the other resting on your hip as he allows your tongue to press into his mouth. He lets you greedily take what you want, his thumb on your hip drawing nonsensical pictures. But as you shudder against him, completely overwhelmed by this all. Shouto probes his tongue into your mouth, gliding his wet, hot muscle against the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth until your panting, unable to do anything but absorb him.

“So pretty, so cute when you’re like this. A beautiful doll for her daddy,” Shouto whispers into your mouth, and you can only moan in response. 

“I need daddy,” you speak, your glazed eyes unable to even look at Shouto. “I need daddy so bad.”

“Where does my princess need me?” Shouto speaks, his lips trailing down your slick chin and neck. “Right here?” he asks, sinking his teeth onto your neck and sucking softly.

“A-Aahhh~,” you shudder, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to place hickey after hickey on your neck, your collarbones, and the spot right behind your ear that makes you melt. “Yes, I need you everywhere… I need daddy’s mouth and cummies in me.”

“Your boobs are so cute, baby girl,” Shouto whispers, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you notice that he’s nosing against your breasts. “So pretty, better than anything I could have hoped for.”

You whine loudly, your body arching off the bed as his hot tongue dips out and licks a pebbled nipple. You pant as he licks again, your fingers burying into his hair.

“Such beautiful nipples, you make your daddy so happy,” Shouto praises, and you gasp loudly as his mouth envelopes your nipple. Your cunt throbs with intriguing want, your socked feet traveling up the line of his leg as his teeth graze and move your nipple in his mouth. “You make me the proudest daddy ever.”

His fingers card down your stomach, trailing and lingering around your cunt, and yet never once touching it. It’s tactical, teasing, and mind spinning. Your clit spasms with needed attention, angry with the teasing, desperate for contact — for attention. You make a noise, something not quite human, unable to pull yourself from your growing fuzzy head as Shouto moves from one nipple to the next.

Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.

“Don’t tease me, daddy,” you whisper, hips circling, thrusting into the air where you wish his fingers were.

“Okay,” he promises, and as if he could read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your untouched yet demanding nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest once again feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, warm tongue, and spit sinking into your nerves. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name. And when you thought the teasing couldn’t get worse, his fingers finally land where you want it most.

On your clit.

“You’re perfect, angel; I love you so much.”

It happens then, like a warm blanket being placed over you — comforting, warm, making the pain in your body hum with only pleasure, and your body trembles with peaking need.

“I wanna… I wanna do more,” you coo, eyes heavy and feigning intoxication as you look up at your daddy. “I wanna please my daddy!”

Your daddy blinks at you, head tilting before a knowing look flashes across his eyes, and he smiles softly, fingers abandoning their spots to press gently against your cheeks. You don’t even mind, so excited and happy that he’s holding you.

“What do you want, sunshine?”

“Can I please suck daddy’s nipples?” you ask with a hopeful face, “He made me feel so good, and I — I wanna make my daddy feel good too!”

“You wanna suck daddy’s nipples? Okay.”

You giggle loudly as the world spins, and you gasp when you’re suddenly sitting straight up, your wet cunt pressing against his hip bone. You laugh lightly, a bell-like giggle, and your hands press to his chest. “That was so fun!”

“Was it—?”

Your daddy can’t finish his sentence because you caught sight of his dusty brown nipples and launched forward, capturing the soft tissue in your mouth. 

It tastes like your daddy, the salt and unique taste he has. And your tongue lashes at it, your cheeks hollowing as you suck at it some more. It hardens in your mouth, a sensation that has you breaking away from him with a beautiful gasp.

“Am I doing a good job?!” you ask, looking at the pretty pink flush on your daddy’s face as he heaves slightly, flustered and a bit out of breath. “My nipples do that when you do a job, daddy!”

“You’re doing so well,” your daddy informs you, and you laugh excitedly. “Do you want… do you want daddy’s cock now?” 

“Daddy’s cock?” you question, heat rushing to your face at the naughty word. “W-What does that mean?”

“Daddy’s cock is how I can make you feel good,” daddy explains, his fingers trailing up and down your thighs, playing with the hem of your socks. 

You giggle as he snaps at it playfully.

“You’ve been doing such a good job, sunshine, and daddy’s cock hurts and wants to be in you.”

“In me?”

“Mmhm, and when it’s in you, you can get daddy’s cummies,” daddy smiles softly. “You want daddy’s cummies, remember?”

You think about it, unsure if you had wanted it, but then you remember that you had said it.

“Will daddy’s cummies help me? My stomach feels funny, a-and I feel wet.”

Daddy nods fast, his body shifting so that he’s in a sitting position and your wet chest presses against him. It’s a sensation you’re unfamiliar with, and you make an embarrassing squeaking noise at the feeling.

“I promise it’ll make you feel better, sunshine.”

You think about it some more, your arms wrapping around his neck as you think. But soon enough, you find yourself giggling and nodding, “I trust my daddy!”

“I’m so glad you do. Daddy’s so glad his baby girl trusts him.”

And the next thing you know, you’re back on your back, and your daddy looms over you, spreading your legs wide apart. You look down at gasp at the sight of daddy’s cock.

“It’s so big!” you shriek, “Where is that going, daddy?!”

“This is going right… there,” daddy emphasizes, pressing two fingers into a part of your body that has you speechless. It’s an intrusion you’re almost unfamiliar with, and yet it makes your head spin and your body hot with need and action from him. “I promise it’ll feel so good; I’ll make you feel so good.”

“O-Okay,” you whimper, watching your daddy pull something against the length of his cock before pressing the swollen head to the entrance that made you feel funny in a good way. “I’m ready, daddy.”

“I’m so glad,” your daddy smiles, and with a gentle kiss to your temple, he presses his cock into you.

“DADDY!” you shriek as his cock pressed into you, filling you out and stretching you out completely. The sensation is overwhelming, piercing pleasure slamming through your body as your arms and legs wrap around him in a vice-like grip. 

Daddy’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close as his hips begin rutting in and out of you. The sensation, the rhythm, is constant and is intoxicating. The creak of the mattress and the loud, grateful cries of your mouth into the crook of his neck fills the room. And then he shifts you just a bit, his hips able to thrust further, more profound, into you, and a wanton, nearly voluptuous noise escapes your mouth. 

“Kiss me, daddy!” you cry, head thrusting back into the mattress, pleasure saturating so deep in your brain you can’t think anymore. “Kiss me, please! Kiss me, kiss me, kissmekissmekiss—”

His mouth is over yours, hot pants and wrecked breathing is passed between open parted lips. Your tongue pushes against his teeth, unable to find his tongue as your hips swirl and thrust up into his thrust cock. Every thrust sends daddy’s cock deeper into your pulling, demanding cunt, stretching you out, sending you further out in an unimaginable way. Your walls spasm uncontrollably, clenching and tightening without a single input. 

But soon, daddy’s shifting up onto his knees, and you can only wildly cry out for him when his arms shift from keeping you close to pressing behind your knees and shoving your knees into the mattress by your shoulders. The most primal, deranged moan rips from your mouth as the stretch sends his cock to a place in your cunt you never could imagine existing. You shake like a child against him, fingers scraping at his back, tearing his skin as your heels dig into his back. The head of his cock buries and brushes against your cervix, making you cry and see colors you’ve never seen before in your life. Your praises for your daddy are endless, and his powerful pounding sends the headboard of your bed crashing against the wall harder and harder.

“How are you feeling, bunny?” Daddy grunts, his face contorted with pleasure and the need to look at you. “Do you feel my cock in you? Can you feel daddy’s cock hitting your cervix?”

“D-Daddy, I-I — ohhh my god!” you sob, your hips pathetically rutting up and down against his cock, stupidly furthering how deep his cock can go, your cervix melting with pleasure, making you oh so dizzy. You can only blabber. “Daddy’s cock is so big, it’s so good! It’s making my stomach feel so funny! I’m so scared!”

“Don’t be scared,” your daddy pleads against your neck, though his speed and strength doesn’t lessen. “Your stomach feeling funny is a good thing; it’s supposed to happen! I promise you, this is how it's supposed to happen. Okay?”

“Okay, daddy, okay, okay, okay,” your voice lessened to a senseless babble. Your sentences blurring together, and your cheek pressed into the mattress, and drool pooled from your lips. 

His pace is completely irreplicable now; every maddening powerful thrust of his hips sends the headboard into the wall. The wet slapping echoing throughout the room when he pierces into you almost drowned out both of your senseless cries. 

It almost scared you, the sensation foreign, but his gentle reminder that this was normal, that you would be okay, kept you from spiraling. Slick erupts in your cunt, an overwhelming heat that throbs right in your core, coating your thighs and your stomach, and with every slam of his hips, it grows only more. 

Intensifying. 

Exhilarating. 

The temperature of your body sizzles off you in immense heat. His lips press against yours, a maddening escape of lust and need exchanging between your parted lips. Your saliva is everywhere, covering both of your faces — connecting them even when you part. But that didn’t stop him; it only fueled him to kiss you entirely, wordlessly praising you, engulfing you with his mouth, daring you with his tongue.

You were barely keeping up with his snapping hips, your mouth begging for more when he suckled on your tongue.

“It’s feeling so funny!” you suddenly cry as your daddy’s fingers pinch and rub against something between your legs that sends electric waves throughout every nerve in your body. “I feel like Imma pee, daddy! I can’t stop it! I can’t stop!”

“It’s okay, let it happen,” your daddy grunts into your ear, and with that, the calming steady of his voice, you let the heat, the tightness in your stomach you feel like is piss, slam through you. 

A tingling, white noise power sensation slams through your entire body. You arch into your daddy, your scream dying on your tongue as your body thumps with a full-body heartbeat. It sends your toes curling, your fingernails scarring his back, and a pathetic, pleasure-derived sob released into your daddy’s sweaty neck. 

His thrusting keeps up for a bit, letting your clenching and relaxing cunt finish him until his thrusts border sloppy, and with a final thrust that has your fingers trembling, he stops, collapsing onto you.

You don’t know what happens next, only that for one moment too long, it’s silent with only heaving breathing and incredibly warm body heat. Your eyes close, and you’re out before you even know it.

.

.

.

You open your eyes to a dark room.

Shouto is next to you, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he holds a wet, warm cloth to your body, gently cleaning you up.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, your voice scratchy and nearly blown. “Did I drop and pass out after cumming?”

Shouto jumped at your voice, looking up at your face with a tired but satisfied grin, “You did.”

You laugh softly, not quite humorlessly, not entirely because you were amused. You sit up, groaning at how your lower body screams in pain; well, it seemed that your drop really did hide any pain.

“That was fun,” you grin, eyes closing as Shouto presses the cloth to your neck, cleaning the sweat and saliva there. “Glad I decided to speak up on that — ow!”

You pouted as Shouto retreated his pinching fingers from your ribcage.

“You didn’t speak up; you acted out and then spoke up,” Shouto chuckled, sighing as he leaned backward, allowing for you to stretch your tired limbs.

“I still managed to say my truth,” you grin, taking the wet cloth from his hands and focusing on his body. Shouto sat there, still and silent, as you gingerly cleaned… everything off him.

“Well, if we’re saying our truths, can I ask something?” Shouto murmurs, so unlike his typical confident demur. You pause for a moment before nodding, continuing to clean the broken skin on his body. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? I-I know this is cheesy and all, but I feel like I want you outside of our arrangement, outside of the dynamic.”

You can’t help but laugh, making Shouto look panicked, even if for a bit.

“I thought I was the only one.”

.

.

.

“Sero, psst, Sero!” Mina whispers loudly, hitting her friend in the back of the head with an eraser.

“Shit, what?” Sero hisses, a slight annoyance in his face from being hit.

“Look!”

Sero follows Mina’s pointed finger over where you and Shouto sat, in the middle of your own world despite it being smack in the middle of the lecture. He scanned your bodies more intensely and froze at the sight of purple and red bruises on both your necks.

“Is that—?!”

“YES!!!”

“HOLY SHIT! WE CALLED IT!”

“Sero!” boomed the voice of Aizawa, their scariest professor ever. “Is there something you would like to share with the class?”

Sero freezes, an awkward smile blooming on his face as he shrugs, “I’m just noticing some hickies today, that’s all!”

There could have been no casualties in this admittance; after all, Aizawa didn’t give two shits about hickies on university students. But the loud, panicked “shit!” coming from you was undoubtedly damning. 

Shouto snickered, his fingers tugging at the collar of your shirt as his fingers brushed against the collection of bruises, “I think they look nice.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

[little-diable]

Stitches in the dark - Spencer Reid (smut)

Written for @band--psycho 2k challenge, I love you and I'm so proud of you Tash! My word was "stitches" - I didn't highlight it in the text, since its pretty obvious. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Spencer and the reader are spending the night together at the annual FBI ball, but when his suit jacket rips he needs the reader to stitch it back together. Who would have thought that it would only take a needle and some threat to push the two into the right direction?

Warnings: 18+, sex, sex in a public place, mixed with some fluff, mentions a needle (for sewing)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (1.5k)

(Y/n) couldn’t help but frown at her reflection, tugging on the black dress Emily had forced her to wear, making her feel like a puppet stuck in layers of fabric. She looked beautiful, though just the thought of having to spend the following hours squeezed into a ballroom with people she didn’t even know the names of didn’t sit right with her.

But time was running short, she didn’t have a chance to back out, head whipping towards her front door. Spencer was pacing in front of it, knocking on the heavy wood again and again, till (y/n) finally ripped it open, staring at his tall frame. He was dressed in a black suit, looking as handsome as one could be.

“Hey,” (y/n) forced her gaze to meet his eyes, smiling at a gasping Spencer. He felt his lungs burning, struggling to keep on breathing, he had never seen her in a dress before, could only imagine what was lying beneath the heavy fabric.

“You look gorgeous.” Spencer cleared his throat, waiting for her to lock the door before she followed him to the car.

Both weren’t big fans of events and crowded places, but neither wanted to miss the annual FBI ball and since they didn’t have any dates they simply decided to go together, hoping that time would pass by quickly enough. Spencer opened the car door for (y/n), patiently helping her with her dress, chuckling at the struggling woman.

The air crackled, both couldn’t help but stare at one another, stealing glances whenever the car would take another turn, driving them through the city, towards the big hall. (Y/n) tapped her feet against the carpet, tightly gripping her dress to find anything to hold onto, wondering if he could tell how nervous she felt.

Not once had they spoken about their feelings for one another, too focused on their work, on the cases that kept them going. Spencer had always struggled with analyzing his own feelings, so it had been no surprise to the rest of the team that he couldn’t understand that (y/n) was clearly crushing on him.

“Just tell me when you want to leave,” Spencer murmured as the car came to a halt, waiting for them to step out before driving off into the night, leaving the two behind. Instinctively (y/n) grasped his hand in hers, tugging him close to stabilise her trembling frame - at least that’s what she told herself.

(Y/n) could barely take in her surroundings, trying to keep her breathing steady as Spencer pulled her towards the crowd, finding the rest of their team. With her heart racing on her tongue, she greeted her friends, not letting go of his warmth, the arm that found its way around her waist.

“Do you want to dance?” His breath tickled her neck, waiting for her to make up her mind, head slightly nodding yes, following Spencer to the dance floor. (Y/n) was thankful for the silence that lingered between them, giving her a few moments to make up her mind, sorting through her thoughts as they began to sway to the music.

The calming piano music wrapped itself around them, keeping them safe and shielded from the other couples. Spencer couldn’t help but wonder if she could hear his heartbeat, the strong muscles that pulsed in his chest. He felt like a young boy, the Spencer that had just been asked to join the team years ago, not used to chasing criminals all around the country.

But nothing would ever give him an adrenaline rush like this, keeping (y/n) close while they got lost in the calmness of the night. Both hearts ached as the song ended, forcing them apart, ushering the couple back to their smiling friends. None of them dared to speak their mind, very well knowing how Spencer and (y/n) struggled with the growing tension between them.

(Y/n) watched Spencer follow Derek to the bar, shooting Emily a warning glance, keeping her in line, at least for the night. She didn’t have any time to find a new topic to discuss with the team, Derek’s voice rang through the ballroom, calling for (y/n).

Both men were standing near the bar, fiddling around with Spencer’s suit jacket, trying to keep the ripped open fabric pieced together. (Y/n) couldn’t stop her chuckles from bubbling out of her, watching the two with twinkling eyes, waiting for them to tell her what to do.

“You can sew, right?” With her tongue pressed against her teeth, she grasped Spencer’s hand, pulling him towards the bathrooms, making their way into one of the stalls. She placed her purse down on the sink, combing through her stuff till she found her small emergency bag, pulling out a needle and some black thread. Spencer had sat down on the toilet seat, watching her with wide eyes.

“Give me your jacket.” (Y/n) didn’t think twice before placing herself in his lap, trying to make herself comfortable as she began stitching the fabric together. She felt his eyes on her back, not noticing how Spencer slowly moved his hands closer to her waist. His instincts seemed to guide him, taking over his system to push him in the right direction.

Spencer felt like he was on drugs, high and confused, out of place. His body worked without asking his mind for permission, lips meeting her neck, kissing her soft skin. (Y/n) froze in her movements, holding her breath. Was Spencer Reid kissing her? The Spencer Reid she had been dreaming of for years?

“Spencer,” his name fell from her lips, filling the small space. She dropped his jacket, turning her head towards him. Before another word could leave either one of them, their lips met, swallowing down their moans. Her hands got lost in his brown hair, holding him close as their tongues moved in sync.

“(Y/n), I-.” He didn’t know what to say, wanted to beg her to let him touch her. But the hands that tugged on his dress shirt, seemed to push him back into his mindset, guided by his emotions. She struggled to undo his shirt, so her hands moved lower, turning towards the zip of his trousers.

“Here?” His raspy voice rang in her ears, body turning so that she was straddling him. The “yes” she moaned against his lips vibrated on his skin, tingling in every cell of his body. (Y/n) managed to pull his trousers down, cock springing free. Her hands grasped him, no longer feeling nervous, instincts telling her what to do.

Spencer’s head rolled back, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed down another groan. (Y/n) couldn’t rip her eyes off him, he looked handsome, the darkness that engulfed them still allowed her to admire his lust drunken features. He moved his hands up her thighs, pushing her dress up to her waist, tugging her panties aside to touch her.

Both moved as if they had done this numerous times before, taking care of one another as their heart’s begged them to keep on exploring. His name bled from her lips, eyes fluttering shut, enjoying the feeling of his cold hands toying with her pulsing clit.

“I need to feel you.” Their mouths met, lips parted to allow their shaky breaths to fill the small room. With Spencer’s help (y/n) shuffled herself even closer, staring at him with excitement laced in her gaze.

“Do you have a-” he reached for his wallet, pulling out the small foil packet. (Y/n) ripped it out of his hand, opening it with her teeth before rolling it down his length. The moment she sank down on his cock, (y/n) felt burning flames of pleasure taking over her system, for a second her eyes snapped to her arms, wondering if she was truly burning alive.

Spencer had inflamed something deep inside of her, burning her system to the ground as he took over. Their hips met over and over again, skin slapping as she rode him with his hands placed on her behind. Both felt like they were drowning, holding one another down as the air around them got thinner.

“You take me so well, so tight, fuck.” Spencer murmured against her lips, feeling his own orgasm creeping closer, no longer could he control his movements, mind set on making her cum. “See how you’re squeezing me, you need me, don’t you?”

(Y/n) cried out, head buried in the crook of his neck. Her thighs trembled, she no longer could hold herself up, would let go any second now. Spencer moved his hand to her chin, tugging on her skin, forcing her eyes to meet his.

“Look at me when you cum.” His voice dropped lower, no longer the genius that was scared of messing things up with (y/n), but the man that fucked her raw.

She cried and cried, walls fluttering as her orgasm clashed through her like a tsunami, ripping her open from inside out. Spencer’s orgasm followed shortly after, cum filling the condom, holding her down against his hips.

Their heavy pants filled the bathroom, eyes closed, enjoying the bliss that flickered inside of them. (Y/n) pulled him in for another kiss, silently thanking him for touching her how she had always dreamt of.

What had started with a few stitches in the dark had turned into something so raw and passionate that both couldn’t help but thank their lucky stars for luring them out of their houses.

Follow my sideblog @little-diableswriting for taglist reblogs

#Spencer Reid smut #Spencer Reid imagine #spencer reid x reader

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐷𝑖𝑙𝑓!𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑇𝑟𝑦 𝑇𝑜 𝑆𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑒 𝐴𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝐷𝑖𝑙𝑓!𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧 𝑀𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 (𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑)

Warnings: NSFW content including but not limited to exhibitionism, voyeurism, semi-public sex (don't try it irl), lactating kink, tittyfucking, etc. Aged up/Older Ateez but age differences are still within legal boundaries. Allusions to infidelity (which I do not condone or encourage)

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong couldn't keep the proud look off his face as he showed off a video of your son playing around on the piano while seated on his lap.

"I'm telling you, he's going to be a musical genius." He boasted to his closest friend, Seonghwa who watched in amazement.

"Mine so far just know how to make messes and keep their mommy and me awake at all hours of the night." Seonghwa chuckled as he gave a lighthearted pat on the bum to the woman right next to him.

"They? You already have two?" You couldn't believe it.

"What can I say? Maybe I'm just really...gifted." Seonghwa winked which had his significant other blushing intensely when he looked her way, the poor thing fanning her face before going to the kitchen to grab more water.

Seonghwa's words left you feeling curious about him and it was a night out for both of you to have fun. So why not have a little fun?

"You must really be packing a lot in there to be able to knock up a girl with 2 kids." You observed as you shamelessly looked at his crotch.

"Well if you ever get too curious I'd be happy to let you experience it firsthand." He looked at you smugly as his thumb cupped your chin.

It was rather dangerous to flirt like this with Hongjoong's best friend right in front of him, but part of you wanted to know what he'd do seeing you act like this, like how'd you'd flirt back in university. You always loved making Hongjoong jealous after all. Taking Seonghwa's hand, you brought his fingers to your lips.

"I'm curious. Very curious actually." You maintained eye contact as you took his fingers in your mouth and mimicked the tongue movements you'd often do on Hongjoong's cock.

Speaking of him, you were surprised as to why he hadn't said or done anything. Looking behind you, you realized he wasn't even there which confused you. Finally you spotted him on the couch and you dropped Seonghwa's fingers out of your mouth when you saw none other than his s/o on Hongjoong's lap.

"Hongjoong!" You angrily exclaimed yet he still had a grin on his face.

"What? I was merely trying to get closer to my friend's soon to be wife." He replied as the hands on her hips went to her ass.

Walking over to them, Seonghwa lifted his partner off the couch and promptly excused himself as he pulled her out of your apartment, no doubt to remind her of a few things. Meanwhile you stood there glaring at Hongjoong who looked unbothered.

"What? It's only ok for you to try and seduce other men?"

You huffed and were about to walk to your room but Hongjoong sat up and hugged you from behind.

"Calm down my little slut, I was only giving you a taste of your own medicine. And besides, you don't need another cock besides mine." He chuckled as he started to play with your pant's zipper.

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Coming back from the kitchen, you widened your eyes as you saw that Hongjoong's a significant other was still flaunting herself to him and he was going along with it.

"This little bitch." You muttered to yourself thinking that no one heard you but someone did.

"It's frustrating isn't it?" You heard Hongjoong say right next to your ear, lips ghosting over the lobe.

"I take it a cat fight is out of the question?" You asked him.

"Actually.... I have a better idea, if you're comfort enough to help me."

Seeing his smirk and wiggling eyebrows, you knew what he was referring to and you decided fuck it. You allowed him to walk you over to the couch but it was you who pushed him onto it before straddling his lap, the dress you were wearing rising up and nearly exposing your lace panties.

"Well you're certainly not a shy one are you?" Hongjoong mused, eyes unable to look away at your chest that was right in front of his face.

"Hey, sometimes a girl's gotta get dirty to get what she wants." You bit your lip as you took his hands and guided them to your hips. Leaning down, you pressed your forehead against his and swiped your tongue across his upper lip.

"Like stealing another woman's husband." You chuckled slyly.

Hongjoong wasn't planning on feeling this hot by your behavior, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't find you attractive. Obviously you were extremely attractive if you managed to steal Seonghwa away from his wife and Hongjoong could now see why.

"Hongjoong!" You both heard his girl shout.

"Took her long enough." You whispered in his ear, trying to contain your laughter after he not only said he was trying to get close to you but also when he squeezed your ass.

The next thing you felt was a pair of arms getting you off Hongjoong before a voice said:

"I'm sorry but we must be going now."

Seonghwa was fuming as he dragged you over into the car, his hand slamming the door loudly.

"Maybe now you'll think twice before letting someone else try to seduce you." You snorted.

"I wasn't actually gonna let her do anything." He told you, a hand rubbing his temples as he tried to calm down both his anger and embarrassment.

"Oh I know you weren't going to let anything happen baby."

Seonghwa's breath hitched when he saw your face stoop down and start to take him out of his pants. He groaned when you spat on his cock so you could begin pumping him.

"Whatever she had you fantasizing about while your fingers were in her mouth, I can fulfill it and even more."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

When Yunho said he wanted you to meet a few of his close friends, you began worrying that an event like what happened with his family would took place. But to your surprise it was nothing like that. And in fact you two weren't the only couple who had a large age difference between them, as his recently remarried friend Yeosang had a wife that was closer to your age so that comforted you.

No doubt Yunho intended for you to become friends with the lovely lady, but surprisingly you were bonding a lot more with Yeosang than anyone, and after a while it escalated to a little flirting.

"So is it true that Yunho bought your virginty?"

You nearly spat your drink out when he asked that, but you composed yourself and smiled as if nothing happened.

"Yeah and I honestly don't regret it." You responded.

"I don't think he regrets it either." He gestured over to Yunho who was happily chatting with some of the other guests.

"Did you also buy your now wife's virginity?" You figured it wouldn't be bad to ask him an embarrassing question now.

"No actually I didn't. I didn't have to. From the first moment, she wanted me like I wanted her and in the end, well...... she ended letting me corrupt her after a long game of cat and mouse." He had a fond look on his face as he began to recall all those memories.

"Well with that face I'd let you corrupt me for free." You wanted to slap your hand over your mouth when you accidentally said aloud what you thought in your head.

Yeosang quirked an eyebrow an amusement at your words.

"Oh really? You little innocent thing would let me corrupt you? Tell me, what if it had been me instead of Yunho that paid to have his way with you?" Yeosang was bold enough to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, his large veiny hands making you get wet as you imagined them undressing you.

"I'd let you fuck my pussy for free." You admitted as you began to lean into him.

Unbeknownst to you, Yunho had listened to the entire conversation and now he stepped in to pull you away from Yeosang. He looked beyond mad and you thought you fucked up for real. He dragged you into some lonely part of the park you were all gathered in and pressed you up against one of the trees. Before you could speak, his large frame trapped you as he started to pull your dress up.

"A long time ago, I paid for this little pussy of yours, isn't that right?" He harshly asked.

You nodded immediately before gasping when Yunho practically tore your panties off you, leaving your bottom half exposed for anyone walking by to see. You tried to pull your dress down, but were stopped by him.

"Don't even try it. Like I said, I paid for your pussy which means it's mine to show whenever I want....." You shuddered when he plunged two fingers in you.

"And fuck whenever I want. Just me, no one else. "

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

You weren't going to lie that you felt uneasy about Yunho's wife talking a little too friendly with Yeosang. Even though you tried to listen to what Yunho was saying, your eyes kept trailing back over to them, and you couldn't stop squinting your eyes at her.

"You can stop being on edge about my wife, she's not going to steal Yeosang away from you." Yunho assured you.

You looked back at him with a face that let him know he was stupid.

"Oh honey, you have no idea what a woman can be like. Don't be fooled by our innocent appearances." You warned him before looking back at Yeosang.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Judging by his tone, you knew Yunho felt offended that you meant anything remotely offensive towards his wife.

Wanting to lighten up the mood while simultaneously letting him understand your point of view, you fully turned your attention to him and smirked as you 'innocently' began adjusting his tie.

"Wha-what are you doing?" Yunho couldn't help the stammer in his voice when you came close to him.

"I'm just fixing this up for you." You answered, your voice sounding as smooth as honey.

"That's not necessary-" Yunho gulped when he tried to pull away only for you to suddenly pull him back in, your body now pressed to his, your breasts peeping out of your cleavage daring him not to stare.

"A woman may help a man tie his tie, fix his belt or..... adjust their collars simply to be nice."

Yunho stiffened and blushed red when you leaned in and whispered with a honey like voice in his ear:

"Or it's because we're trying to get you guys to fuck us."

You knew your plan worked when Yunho's eyes shot wide open and he excused himself to go stomp over to where his wife and Yeosang were. You patted yourself on the back especially when you made emphasis on the adjusting collars part, knowing that Yunho saw just as you did how his wife had adjusted Yeosang's collar before and he was not subtle about checking out her cleavage.

Your proud smile did not leave your face even when you saw Yeosang slowly approaching you. You knew he definitely saw how you were with Yunho and you were curious to see what'd he say. Humming softly, he went behind you so he could wrap his arms around your waist while his face buried itself on your neck.

"Mind telling me why you were so close with Yunho?"

Reaching a hand up to pat his hair, you answered:

"Simply teaching him a few lessons on how women seduce men."

Yeosang couldn't help but let out a soft laugh at your words. You giggled when you felt his lips press open mouth kisses along your neck.

"Yeah you're an expert in that category, aren't you?"

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

"Umm...uh Y/N?" Mingi, San's friend spoke up.

"Yeah?" You wondered what was bothering him.

He seemed unsure whether to tell you or not, whatever it was that he was trying to say. Clearing his throat, he finally decided to spit it out.

"I think you spilled something on your shirt when you went to the kitchen and didn't notice."

You were confused as you didn't remember spilling anything on yourself. Looking down at your shirt, you laughed as you realized what it actually was.

"Oh! I didn't spill anything, that's just my boobs." You blurted out.

Mingi flushed pink as it clicked on his head what you meant.

"Oh...right. San had mentioned before that you lactated a lot but I didn't think-" He stopped himself before he went further.

"Didn't think?" You pressed him to continue.

"Didn't think it'd be that much." He confessed, eyes curiously eyeing the wet stains on your shirt.

Getting turned on by another man staring at your breasts, you reached for the bottom of your shirt and pulled it off of you. Slowly, you began to pull your bra up as well, your breasts popping out with a bounce that had Mingi biting his lip. San came in to find you topless and with his friend admiring your tits and although he'd usually be very jealous, something about it made him get aroused.

"My wife's tits are so pretty aren't they Mingi?" He startled you both when he made his presence known.

"God yes." Mingi couldn't lie.

"Maybe you should taste them." San suggested as he reached for one of them and squeezed it so a bit of milk would come out of it.

Mingi hesitated but after San reassured him it was fine, the giant male latched his mouth onto one of your breasts, sucking on it fervently. If you thought it couldn't get any better, soon San joined in, taking a hold of your other breast and taking it into his mouth. You threw your head back and moaned loudly as both men sucked on your breasts, your hands cupping the back of their heads to push them further into your chest.

"Just watch Mingi, she can literally cum untouched by just having us breastfeed from her." San chuckled in between his suckling.

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

"I should cut off your balls." You threatened Mingi as he confessed to you what had transpired the day before at San's house.

"Honey please don't do that. At least you heard it from me, doesn't that count for something?" He pouted at you as he tried to hug you.

"Yeah it counts for getting it sliced off in one whole strike instead of piece by piece." You grunted as you evaded his embrace.

"Ok, what's it going to take for you to forgive me? Ask for anything. If you even wanna withhold kinky times from me, I won't even blame you."

You actually thought long and hard about how to get back at Mingi. Just what could possibly make you get even with him after he confessed to sucking on his friend's wife's tits? The light bulb went off in your head at once.

"Can you ask your friend San to come over?"

Although he was confused by your request, he nonetheless did as you asked and called him over. San was just as confused, but he figured he was probably there to help his friend out and apologize for what happened and take responsibility. But what he was not expecting was for you to throw yourself on him and start seducing him right in front of Mingi, who was equally shocked.

"You got to have your fun with his wife yesterday right? I think it's only fair he gets to have fun with your wife, don't you think Mingi?" You smirked over at him.

San was hissing and grunting as he layed on your bed, watching intently as his cock was buried deep in between your boobs. Every time his head popped out, you made sure to stick your tongue out to further stimulate him.

"You seem to have a thing for breasts Sannie." You teased as you began to fuck him between your boobs even faster.

"Oh fuck!" San cried out as he tried to keep himself from cumming.

"Mingi also likes a good tittyfuck every now and then, but he's more of an ass man above all."

You looked over at Mingi, who sat quietly on a chair in front of you both, watching it all go down with a tent in his pants.

"Mingi come fuck my ass." You suddenly told him.

"Are you serious?" Mingi widened his eyes.

"I just got done saying how you're an ass man and I'm feeling empty. Now are you going to stay sitting down or are you going to join in?"

In minutes, Mingi had gotten up and had stripped himself off his clothes, and now he was positioning himself right behind you, cock twitching at fucking your ass while your breasts fucked his friend.

"You really are a kinky little lady."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

"Wait, you met Y/N where?"

Wooyoung wasn't surprised to hear the disbelief in Jongho's voice as they shared stories about how they met their current significant others.

"In the strip club I frequented. She was one of the dancers there." He repeated himself.

"What? Did she drop her panties onstage and you immediately bought a ring?" Jongho teased him.

"One, we're not married...yet. And two, I actually had to get her alone to be able to see her with no clothes on. And fuck when I did, I decided to snatch her away before anyone else got a chance to." He admitted.

"Was she that enticing to you?" Jongho questioned him.

"Trust me, she's the type of woman who can dance her way into a man's heart. Or pants." Wooyoung boldly stated.

"I doubt she could dance into mine." Jongho firmly said.

"Oh really? You think so? Wanna bet on it?"

Wooyoung didn't hesitate to pick up his phone and call you right away. Hearing his mischievous tone, you knew he was up to something. When he asked you to come over to his office in one of your old costumes from your exotic dancer days, you got a hint as to what it could be and it excited you to think about it.

You came into his office, thinking he wanted a private show but you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw that he wasn't alone. You looked at Wooyoung, asking for an explanation.

"Baby I hope you don't mind but.... I wanted you to put on a little show for my dear old friend here." Wooyoung shifted in his seat.

You were about to scold Wooyoung for even thinking of such an idea, but Jongho spoke up first.

"She can try all she wants, but I doubt she'll be effective in seducing me."

You scoffed at the man's words and at that moment you wanted nothing than to wipe that smug look off his face. Setting your phone on the desk and pressing play, you walked right in front of Jongho and let the long trench coat fall of your body, revealing the glittery lingerie you were hiding. Although Jongho tried to remain stoic, you could see that the corners of his lip twitched slightly when you began to dance.

You felt proud of yourself when it seemed you were finally getting him to break as you rolled your body on top of him, your hips mere inches from actually grinding down on his crotch.

"Can I touch her?" Jongho finally blurted out, nails clawing the couch underneath him.

Wooyoung and you both exchanged a triumphant look when he asked that.

"Only if you admit I won the bet, then I'll even let you fuck her."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

"Are we really doing this right here?" You giggled as Jongho continued to mark kisses across your neck as he pushed you onto the desk behind you.

"Can't help it. I just really wanted you now." He winked when he came back up to cup your face and hungrily kiss your lips.

You found it odd that Jongho was suddenly getting frisky with you while at work. He'd never ever approve of you two risking getting caught doing something inappropriate during work hours. But you figured it was because back then you two were a secret and now almost everyone knew you two were married. So you just didn't think too much of it and instead enjoyed as his strong hands gripped your thighs and spread them apart so he could fit himself in between your legs.

Just as you two were getting lost in each other, the door opened and someone came in.

"Oh I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" A man whom you had never met before asked as he seemed embarrassed about walking in on you two.

"Oh, not at all Wooyoung. In fact I was expecting you right at this time, after all, I did call you here."

Jongho looked so unfazed about having his friend walk in, in fact, he looked almost too happy about getting caught like that, it was so unlike him. Just as you slid off the desk and began adjusting yourself, Jongho stopped you.

"Wooyoung? Remember the other night? When you let your little exotic dancer give me a lap dance?"

You widened your eyes when he said that, hearing that for the first time.

"Among other things." Wooyoung nodded.

Taking your hand, Jongho slowly walked you over to where Wooyoung was seated.

"Well.... I think it's time you let me return the favor."

Before you could even guess what was happening, Jongho sat you on Wooyoung's lap, your back pressed against his chest.

"I left her wet and bothered so I think she'd really appreciate it if you helped her out." Jongho winked at you before stepping back to his desk to get a better view.

You whimpered when you felt Wooyoung's hands slide up your shirt to cup your breasts.

"Are you ok with this babygirl?" He asked you.

Having Jongho watching you intently and being left needy by him, you didn't hesitate to let his friend know that you were more than ok with him touching you, which delighted him and Jongho as well.

"Don't hold back on her, she likes it rough."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez dilf au #dilf!ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez angst

[the-evil-duckling]

And now that Pride Month's over, Let's Talk About Pratchett.

The companies have taken down their flags. The marches and rallies are fading away. Rainbow colours are melting back into grayscale. And now that all the hubbub is dying down, let's talk about an author who did perhaps more than any other to introduce gender-and-sexual minorities to the public (and not just as a cute oddity to be cooed at from a distance, either).

Let's talk about an author whose works are perhaps the most representative, hard-hitting, and wholesome, in all of well-written English literature.

Let's talk about Pratchett.

Before we dive into the lovely little nitty-gritties, I want to just take a quick look at what Pratchett's writing really is, and what makes it so very exceptional. It's pretty simple, really.

He's funny.

That's the "secret" formula to Terry Pratchett's success across the global; he's funny everywhere, everywhen, across multiple generations and multiple decades and multiple geopolitical borders. You don't have to read Discworld with a lot of effort, thinking deeply after every line about the message the author is trying to convey. You don't have to analyze every character and every situation to see how the author is sculpting a crystal-clear mirror and holding it up to the face of Society. When I'm feeling down (cause college and life and pressure and dreams) and wanna start gouging out my forearms with my nails, I can just curl with one of my comfort books (like Men At Arms, or Unseen Academicals) and laugh and chuckle and just feel better. You can just enjoy it.

Now, I think, I can get to the fun stuff; analysing all of my favourite characters and the roles that they represent in mirroring Pratchett's view of People. (I should mention at this point that I am mainly going to be focussing on the Sam Vimes novels, and what I will be writing are my own thoughts and opinions. Anyone who knows more - or has just read/interpreted the books differently - is of course free to add their own musings.)

Fred Colon: Sergeant Colon is that rarest and yet most typical of things: Fred Colon is an ordinary person. He is no hero, or genius, or leader. He is not evil or even mildly malicious. And that is the very point that needs to be understood. People (most people) are not deliberately evil; they are, on the whole, fairly decent people who treat their friends well and try not to make enemies. It is just... petty selfishness, petty prejudices, petty apathy... all summated in every single member of the populace, and suddenly everyone knows that dwarfs are just money-grubbing bastards who'd bite your kneecaps off for a copper coin and trolls are dumber than the rocks they're made off but they'll as soon smash you to pulp as look at you and you can't trust a vampire cause they're too dead to be alive and-

Carrot Ironfoundersson: Captain Carrot is a cliché. Captain Carrot is a cliché wrapped inside a trope hidden in a Mary Sue, all turned on its head. Captain Carrot, rightful heir to the throne of Ankh, leader of all manner of beings, man who once beat Detritus in a fistfight... is not the hero of this story. In any other series, the story would have been of a brave new cop (who is also the king) standing up to the corruption and lawlessness of the Patrician while taking advice from his grizzled old half-drunk commander who dies four chapters into the first book with some vaguely portentous words that the hero remembers at the very last minute to give him the tools/strength/motivation necessary to keep fighting. But this is Pratchett. And the hero of the story, if there is one, is very much the grizzled old commander. Two other points have also always struck me about Carrot. The first is the matter of identity. Biologically, Carrot is very much a human, but in all other ways that matter he is entirely a dwarf - his name is Kzad-bhat, and even the deep-down dwarfs do not question his dwarfishness - and yet that does make him any less a human. In this is reflected the multiplicity of identity (not just of gender, which is what most people immediately jump to, but all identities). The second point is of the relationship between Carrot and Angua, which seemed to me a representation of a healthy dom/sub relationship. Unlike the twisted shit we find on ao3 (and in some published books that I don't feel that I need to name), Angua is at no point portrayed as lesser, weaker, incapable, dependent, or deferent. She is her own person, and the two of them just happen to have this kind of chemistry.

Samuel Vimes: Ahhhh. His Grace, His Excellency, The First Duke of Ankh, Blackboard Monitor Samuel Vimes, Commander of the City Watch. The protagonist, if not quite the hero, of the series. He is not perfect, not even close. He is casually discriminatory (species-ist?) and thoughtless in most of what he says. his saving graces are that his discrimination is universally applied at all beings living and dead, and that he has never, not even once, allowed his personal feelings of prejudice stand in the way of justice (which is at times, all that separates him from Fred Colon). Does that mean that it's all okay, and everything is now fine and dandy and hunky-dory? No. Not even fucking close. Words matter and actions matter and even how you feel deep inside - all of it matters. Prejudice is prejudice, and it is always wrong. there are no mitigating circumstances, no 'yes, but...' that can make it acceptable. But only an idealistic idiot would say that it is not better than the alternative. And this is the reason that Vimes is one of my favourite protagonists; he is not a hero. He is real.

Leonard of Quirm: A parody of the public perception of a genius (perhaps of Roundworld's Tesla and da Vinci), I have loved Leonard as a character ever since I realised he was gay. Allow me to elaborate. As I was recently re-reading Jingo, I noticed a line that went something like 'He started drawing how The-Going-Under-The-water-Safely-Device could be improved, piloted by a muscular man who was not overdressed'. And just like that, a couple dozen other off-hand comments slotted into place and I realized the homosexual truth. And I love this portrayal of homosexuality, because most books or movies or tv shows or fanfictions with a gay MC (or even sidekick) tend to have a storyline roughly equivalent to 'hey my name is [insert name here] and I'm GAY and I have a destiny to save the world and my family and my GAY boyfriend whom I'm dating cause I'm GAY and before I go outside I have to pick my outfit really carefully better go with salmon-rose-flutter pink cause I'm GAY and now I'm outside and I'm not very popular and this is my tragic backstory cause a lot of people don't like me cause I'm GAY and-' Yeah. This is not good writing. By barely mentioning anything, Pratchett somehow still managed to emphasise that a) homosexuality is one of your identities, not all of them and b) just because a story has a character who is gay doesn't mean that the story becomes about a character being gay.

Trev Likely: One sentence. Just one sentence. 'Hating people was too much work.'

If you actually made it this far, you are obliged to reblog. I'm sorry, but I don't make the rules. (Please?)

#terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #discworld #pride month #lgbt pride #queer pride #humour #men at arms #unseen academicals #fred colon #sergeant colon #philosophy #captain carrot #carrot ironfoundersson #ankh morpork #cliches #angua von uberwald #sergeant angua #dom/sub #sam vimes #samuel vimes #commander vimes #leonard of quirm #trev likely #jingo #well this was a long one

[spencerspecifics]

HI HI HI PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MOREID AT PRIDE AND SOME PINING AND SPENCER THINKS DEREK IS STRAIGHT BUT HE ISN'T AND THEY KIIIITTTTTHHHHH

I absolutely love your energy fuck yes!! I’m so sorry this took forever, ive got school, work and some other personal things happening so I appreciate your patience!

No TW, B u t, a creep hits on Spencer at pride, so if that is upsetting please note that! Thanks :)

———————————————————————

Pride

———————————————————————

Garcia had been pestering Spencer about going to pride for the past week now, and it was slowly driving him insane.

He used almost every excuse he could think of. When he first turned her down, he had simply said, “Sorry, I’m going to be busy that week.” And of course, Garcia being Garcia, she stole his calendar to see what he was busy with (spoiler alert: he had nothing. Except a reminder to go grocery shopping, and email some professors and research scientists back).

So, she persisted, and he came up with a dozen more excuses; “I was considering flying out to see my mom”, “The local museum has a new interactive archeology exhibit for adults, and I want to learn more about ancient structures”, “I have to do a presentation on thermodynamics”.

None of those excuses work, as she sniffed out every lie, “Spencer, you hate flying to Vegas last minute, that archaeology exhibit has been open for months, and your calendar is empty!”

So with her persistence, and legitimate bullying, Spencer found himself finally agreeing. “Fine, but come over to my apartment before we leave so you can help me.” After all, he wasn’t really familiar with pride parades, and what the scene was like there. He was going to be a fish out of water, he already knew that for certain.

~

True to her word, Garcia showed up an hour before the pride parade was set to start, carrying a coffee in each hand- how she possibly knocked on his apartment door, Spencer didn’t know.

“I brought you a pick me up, that way you have no excuse to be in a bad mood!” She spoke in her signature sing song voice as Spencer let her inside, she barreled in like a hurricane. God, Spencer wasn’t ready for this.

“Thanks..” Spencer decided to reply with that lame response, and not with what he was actually thinking. He took the coffee from her wordlessly as she stepped in further, going to sit down on his couch.

“You excited?” Garcia asked as she set her cup down on his cluttered coffee table. Reid just shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t do great with crowds.”

“But you do great with disarming murderers?” “You know that’s different-” Spencer said, doing his best to argue, “Reid it is literally not. Both are anxiety inducing, but one is life or death, and it’s not pride. So you can do this.”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to not arguing with Garcia. Because she was right, though at times her arguments sounded wild. He just had to get over this anxiety and show up at pride, he could do this, right?

~

Wrong. So, very, wrong. They had left his apartment with thirty minutes to spare, deciding to walk over to where pride was being held- as it was only a few blocks away in a public park.

And as soon as they got there, Spencer wanted out. There were so many people, more than he estimated (and his estimations were usually spot on.), and there was just chaos everywhere. Music, dancing, shouting, singing, drag queens running around happily. Spencer wasn’t sure what to do. He was out of his element.

Garcia seemed to sense that, though, as she dragged Spencer over to some stalls that sold pride flags, pins, and other miscellaneous pride related things.

“C’mon Reid, why don’t you look around and find something you like?” She offered up, something for him to do- something for him to stay busy with. He could do that. Spencer nodded simply, Garcia stayed by his side- looking at pride related wear for herself.

~

Spencer ended up deciding on a small pin that simply said; “love all”, planning to stick it on his messenger bag strap. Garcia bought a pin as well, but hers just had her pronouns on them; “she/her/hers”.

Looking at all the pride apparel was a good distraction for Spencer, he felt a lot more calmer now- though that didn’t stop him from feeling like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He’s just not familiar with this world, and it’s awkward to suddenly be in the middle of it.

Spencer was in the middle of looking at another booth that sold flags, possibly considering buying himself a small one to stick in his pencil cup at work, because Garcia left him to go compliment a drag queen- when a voice broke through.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

That was a voice all too familiar, what on earth was Morgan doing here? Spencer looked up at him as he made his way towards him. “Hey,” Spencer spoke awkwardly. Not sure what to say.

Spencer was gay. He was fine with admitting he was gay, but he hadn’t really told the team. He thought they figured it out on their own. And they probably had, but still, having his coworker see him at a pride event- it was anxiety inducing.

“What’re- what’re you doing here?” Spencer asked, stumbling over his words as he dropped the small flag he was holding back onto the vendors table.

“Oh, well I’m on the local PFLAG committee. I’m just here to hand out flyers and stuff. But I’m glad to see you’re here, I’m guessing Garcia’s here too?” He asked Spencer casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Spencer.

He was on the PFLAG committee? Why? To help queer people, obviously, but that had to mean he was gay or something- Spencer couldn’t stop his mind from coming up with every possible answer to why Derek was on the committee.

Spencer just nodded in response, he moved himself back from the vendors table to get out of the way, so other customers could look at the flags being sold.

“Yeah, she’s- there.” Reid pointed her out, as if on cue she came out of the thick crowd that had started to gather back up, the parade portion of pride had concluded by now, and people were coming over to the vendors section.

“Hey, Babygirl!” Derek called over to her, and Garcia somehow lit up with a smile brighter than the one she was wearing before, “Well, hey!” She responded enthusiastically, walking up swiftly to give Derek a quick embrace, which he happily returned.

“I wasn’t sure how long you were staying for, but I’m glad I caught you!” Garcia started rambling to Derek, about how the drag queen she met was so nice; “Her name was Mysteria Hysteria. Isn’t that genius?”.

~

Spencer just stepped back from them both, not sure what to do, not sure if he fully belonged. Pride was a nice event, it was. But the longer he stood around, the more he felt like he should be leaving. Everyone was laughing and smiling, everyone was just happy. And Spencer couldn’t stop racking his brain. In the beginning, he couldn’t stop thinking because of his anxiety, but now he was searching his brain for a reason why Derek was here and what it meant.

Of course, a stupid large portion of Spencer’s mind went to “maybe Morgan likes men”, and then an even larger and stupider portion of his mind had the absurdity to think; “maybe he’s interested in me”. Which Spencer did not even want to remotely entertain, because if he fell down that rabbit hole, he’d never climb back out.

Because yes, he did like Derek. He liked him a lot, the start for his liking towards the man was innocuous enough- which is why it was a problem for Spencer. He didn’t realized he liked Morgan until it was too late. And now he had been battling these feelings for years. Spencer wasn’t ever going to act on them, he just had to live with them- which he had been doing, which he has been content with. But this new information, about Morgan being here, being part of PFLAG- it was going to make Reid’s mind implode in on itself.

~

Reid decided the best thing was to say; “I’m gonna get some water, I’ll be back.” To which Derek and Garcia both nodded to, and Spencer was off, away from the vendors stand and the only two people he knew at pride.

And while that was a good thing, it was simultaneously not so good. Because now he was alone, overwhelmed, and thinking too much. And now he had a task to do, find himself some water.

~

That task seemed to be more difficult than anticipated, as the prides layout was a confusing maze, spencer had to pass in front of a group of drag queens in order to get to the food trucks that were on site- but he eventually got there.

He walked up to the first food truck he saw, it didn’t matter what they sold, he wasn’t getting it.

“What can I get for you?” The cashier asked him, “Just a water, please.” He ordered, the cashier nodded and pulled a bottle out from a cooler that was nearby within the truck, handing it over to spencer as they told him his total, a dollar twenty five. Spencer paid quickly, stepping back and away from the food truck, as he wasn’t sure where else to go now. He didn’t want to go back towards Derek or Garcia, he honestly wanted to go home.

He just needed a minute, some space and time to breathe and relax. He was stressing himself out. And about what? Nothing of goddamn importance, just a stupid crush he had been living with for a while now.

~

Spencer had been leaning against the back the food truck for not long, only a couple of minutes as he was absorbed in thought as he fiddled with the cap on the water bottle.

He was doing his best to follow the grounding techniques he had learned, something to help him calm down, when suddenly- a stranger emerged out of the crowd.

“Hey there, handsome.” The man said confidently as he strode up to introduce himself Spencer. Spencer looked up to meet his eyes, the man in question was a fine looking guy, chiseled jawline, long shoulder length hair, a bit of facial stubble. He was handsome. “Hello,” Spencer answered hollowly in response. In an ordinary situation, he would try and seem more lively- but he wasn’t in a normal situation, not at all.

The anxiety of attending pride was stress enough on its own, but now knowing the guy he had been drooling over for years was here- and worked as a PFLAG volunteer? It was enough to make him lose his mind.

The man didn’t seem to notice Spencer’s empty response, however, as he answered suavely in response; “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the way. I’m Fabian,” Thankfully, the man- Fabian, didn’t stick his hand out for a handshake, instead casually pushing his hair back a bit.

“I’m Spencer,” Reid replied simply, knowing it was best to ride this odd social interaction out, rather than try and fight it. “That’s a lovely name,” Fabian complimented, “Is this your first time at pride, Spencer?” He asked him casually, taking a step forward, closer to Spencer. He was all too confident for Spencer, he too comfortable with invading Spencer’s space. If Spencer could’ve, he would’ve stepped back.

“Uh, yeah. My friend dragged me along.” Reid explained, twisting the bottle cap back onto his half empty water bottle. Fabian nodded, “Your boyfriend didn’t take you?” Fabian asked him. That was a leading question, Spencer had alarm bells ringing in his head the second he heard it. “No. He- um- he met up with us here.” Spencer replied unconvincingly, Fabian obviously did not believe a word he said.

“Well,” Fabian took another step forward, practically blocking Reid in against the back of the food truck, leaning in farther to whisper in Spencer’s ear; “I don’t see him around. So, why don’t you and I get out of here? Hm?”

Spencer wasn’t sure of what to do. He wanted to kick this guy in the crotch and just book it, but he wasn’t sure if his FBI status would protect him in this scenario. He wasn’t sure what could protect him in this scenario.

“Pretty boy! There you are!” A saving grace broke through, and suddenly Fabian was stepping back, and Morgan was walking up.

Thank god, thank fucking god, that’s all Spencer could manage to think as Derek came to stand beside him. “Hey, babe.” Spencer said, cringing at his voice, at what he just said. But that feeling only lasted for a moment as Fabian was still standing right there, staring them both down now.

Spencer could only throw his wish in the sky and hope Derek caught it coming down, ‘please catch along to why I’m calling you babe’ Reid was trying to say.

And Derek caught it, “Hey, baby, was worried about you. Who’s your friend?” He said in his smooth voice, a voice Spencer couldn’t forget. He especially couldn’t forget now, being called ‘baby’ was something Spencer especially could not forget.

“I’m Fabian, you’re Spencer’s boyfriend?” Fabian asked, as if them both calling each other ‘babe’ counted for nothing. “Yeah, I’m Derek.” Morgan responded simply, sliding his hand around Spencer’s waist as if to prove a point. Fabian just nodded, looking between Spencer and Derek one last time before talking; “Well, it was nice to meet you, I’ve gotta get going. See you.”

And then, he was off, fast walking away from Derek and Reid, escaping the terrible situation he had created. Fabian quickly disappeared into the thick crowd, and by then Spencer had his hand squeezing his water bottle all too tightly- as evident by the terrible crunch sound it made. He was too anxious to let go.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked him softly, pulling his hand away from Spencer’s waist. “Can we find somewhere else- can we go sit down?” Spencer asked him quickly. Reid didn’t want to talk about it right this second, right where it had happened. He wanted to leave, he wanted to leave pride and never come back.

~

Derek didn’t ask a single follow up question as he led Reid away from the food trucks, taking him back towards the vendors stands, and then a bit further back, into the normal-not-so-pride-parade-filled park area. Somewhere less stressful, less scary.

“What did that guy want?” Derek asked Spencer casually as they made their way towards a bench that was sat under a large oak tree. Spencer didn’t speak right away, instead he waited until they were seated to start talking.

“He was trying to flirt, but then he wanted me to leave with him.” Spencer explained as he took a deep breath in, just being away from all the loud sounds and sights was helping him calm down. Derek rubbed Spencer’s back in slow, circular motions as Spencer kept talking.

“He was a classic example of a narcissistic personality, it just made me so uncomfortable- he invaded my space.”

“He was a creep, Reid. Simple as that,” Derek kept rubbing Spencer’s back slowly, Spencer nodded. “I know. Sorry, it shook me up.” Spencer attempted to apologized, and Derek was immediately having none of that.

“Reid, no. Don’t apologize for that, don’t you dare. He was a creep, I’m sorry you got caught up with him. It’s okay if you’re shaken up. We can stay here until you feel up to going back, or we can leave. But I’m not leaving you.”

~

And so they sat for a good amount of time on that park bench, at one point Derek stopped rubbing Spencer’s back, instead just keeping his arm stretched out against the back of the bench and against Spencer’s back. Spencer loved it, but he knew if he thought about it for too long he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking. That was his biggest problem, he couldn’t stop thinking.

He had to know, he decided, he couldn’t just wonder why Derek was on the committee for PFLAG. He wanted to know, he had to.

“Derek?” He spoke up softly, sounds of laughing and shouting and music were still heard in the distance, but they were safe from the sounds under the tree. “Mhm?” Derek hummed in response, looking up at the aforementioned tree that was providing shade for them.

His eyes were tracing the way the branches curved and bent around each other, it was something he did to pass the time. Spencer thought he was extraordinary for it, Derek loved to see where things went; he was curious- after all these years, and all the bad they had seen together, Derek still loved to search and find the beauty.

“Why are you on the PFLAG committee ?” Spencer asked him, it was thankfully an innocuous enough ask to not draw too much of Derek profilings side out to pry apart his question. Derek shrugged, and was quiet for a second before responding, “I know what it’s like to be a scared kid, unsure of his identity. If I can help someone through that, that’s all that matters. Same reason I’m in the BAU, to help people.”

Spencer stayed quiet, Derek’s reason was so sincere and so sweet and kind- and only driving him to think further. Was Derek still unsure of his identity? Was he an ally? Why did he have to make Spencer swoon so hard without even trying?

“So, you’re just an ally?” Spencer approached Derek carefully with that question, not wanting to impose or be rude- but just feign simple curiosity, praying Derek wasn’t using his profiling skills right now to decode Spencer’s fake motive.

Derek didn’t notice, thankfully, as he chuckled lowly in response; “No, pretty boy, I’m bisexual. I don’t really tell the team, but it’s not confidential information. Plus, Garcia found Grindr on my phone. Can’t hide anything from that girl.”

Spencer nodded, mumbling something in response about how Garcia had hacked his email to make sure he was free for pride. And then, the two fell into silence again. But it didn’t last for long, because Derek wanted to know just as much, why was Spencer here?

“What about you, Reid?” Derek asked him cautiously, the way you approach a puppy you find on the side of the road. Calm and slow, trying to get him to trust him bit by bit. “What about me?” Spencer asked, not wanting to answer anything about himself unless Derek was specific.

“Are you an ally?” Morgan asked him, leaving the question open ended. Spencer could say as little or as much as he wanted. This is how you get him to open up, Derek knew that for a fact. “Um.. yeah, I mean- who isn’t? I just- I have to be. I’m.. gay.” Spencer admitted all too awkwardly, not at all in a normal fashion. But nothing about Spencer was in normal fashion.

Derek nodded slowly, not responding as he stared back up, tracing his eyes over the tree branches yet again.

~

A few hours had passed, Spencer and Derek eventually left their peaceful bench under the large oak tree, and instead moved back towards the parking lot.

“Garcia’s got a ride home already- I think she got that drag queen to get her home.” Derek explained as they approached his truck, Spencer nodded as he followed Derek. “Anyways,” Derek continued speaking, “I can give you a ride home. Let’s get going.”

“You don’t have to-“ Spencer started, Derek immediately shut him down. “I want to, c’mon. It’s late, you’re tired. I know you are. Let me take you home.” Spencer just nodded in agreement, he couldn’t argue with Derek, even if he did try. Morgan was a stubborn man.

So, Spencer followed Derek into his truck, and they sat in comfortable silence as they started on their journey back to Spencer’s safe space, his apartment.

~

By the time Derek pulled his truck into the apartments parking lot, Spencer knew something was just the slightest bit wrong. Derek had barely spoken for the entire ride, and usually he loves to say something, to make Spencer smile or laugh, or even just nod and mumble in agreement. But he had done none of that on the way to Spencers.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, turning to face Derek as he put the vehicle in park. Derek didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the steering wheel instead as he spoke; “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Spencer pried, absentmindedly unbuckling his seatbelt as he spoke, “About today.” Derek said, not explaining further. “Was today bad?”

Derek shook his head, “No. It started weird, it’s ending pretty good, though. But I’m gonna regret today forever if I don’t do something right now.”

Now, Spencer was confused. Not sure at all what Derek could be talking about, “What do you mean?” He asked, voice quieter than before.

Derek said nothing as he unbuckled his own seatbelt, turning to face Spencer as well, and then he leaned in- closer than they had ever been before. Their noses were almost touching, and Spencer didn’t move. Instead, he watched Derek’s eyes expectantly.

Then, Derek broke through, they were no longer intersecting each other’s personal space- now they were fully destroying each other’s atmospheres. Derek’s lips were on Spencer’s, a chaste, soft, quick kiss- something Spencer would have wanted to go for a lot longer. But then, he pulled away just as fast.

“...That’s what I meant..” He mumbled after a second, looking back towards the steering wheel, looking away from Spencer- and more importantly, not seeing the smile on Spencer’s face.

Spencer couldn’t help it. He knew it was terrible to be smiling right now- he should jump and say something to fix what was happening. But he had to smile, he couldn’t believe that had actually just happened, his brain was still computing and re-circuiting, trying to savor the memory and not forget how Derek’s lips felt against his.

Spencer dragged himself out of his own head quickly, though. He did all he could think of to do in the moment, get Derek back. “Morgan.” Spencer said, tugging on Derek’s sleeve as he did so, forcing him to look back at Spencer and meet his eyes again.

But Spencer didn’t say anything, and he didn’t give Derek the chance to speak, either. Instead, he leant forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s. This is all he had wanted to know for the longest time, and now he had it.

~

Maybe pride wasn’t so bad after all, you just have to be with the right people for it to work out.

———————————————————————

#criminal minds #cm #spencer reid #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #Penelope garcia #pride #moreid #fanfiction #ask #jennifer jareau #dave rossi #Tara lewis #dr Spencer reid #mlm #gay #writing #angst #slow burn #boyfriends #love them lol #og shit #Spencer Specific Fics #fanfic #oneshot #user penemily

[missymurphy1985]

The Extra (part one)

Warning - Smut (eventually 😉)

Request? Oh yes, because @heidimoreton is literally a damn genius.

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton

Organising fifteen 20year olds into some kind of formation was more difficult than it sounded. If it wasn't one of them glued to their phone or another asking where the toilets were, it was something else.

"Everyone listen to me!!!" Your voice bellowed across your third year Media class. It was loud enough that even the one at the back with her earbuds in heard you and quickly stood to attention.

"Here's your backstage passes - do not lose these, else you'll be kicked out and you won't get back in, understand?" Handing them out, they each nodded and hung the lanyards round their necks.

"Now this is a real, working film set. It isn't a day out on a jolly, it's work experience for all of you. I've assigned you all to work in specific areas based on your expertise so I think you'll all enjoy the day. Listen to the instructions and advice given, and enjoy it! I can't wait to hear how you've all got on at dinner later!" The class were grinning like Cheshire Cats, eager to get inside the Black Country Museum in Wolverhampton where series one of the new BBC drama Peaky Blinders was being filmed for a week. The museum had been closed off to the general public so the crew would be able to have full, uninterrupted reign over it, and they'd agreed to allow your class of budding directors/producers/sound technicians involved to give them the experience they craved. Now you'd got their attention after an hour longs drive from Birmingham University, the spark in them had been reignited and they were raring to go.

Once inside, the director, Anto, called you over. You'd been at university together years ago and he was more than happy to help you out any time you needed it with your students. He gave you a huge hug before you introduced him to the class.

"You have the finest teacher in the UK here, I hope you all know that!" He laughed, nudging you playfully.

"To be fair Professor, you have been a legend throughout this course," one of the students smiled, the rest all cheering in agreement, making you blush. You loved being a teacher, and this class was by far one of the best you'd been involved with.

"Now then, let's sort you all out into your groups and get you where you need to be!" Anto grinned, taking the clipboard from you with everyone's name and assigned role for the week.

You and your fellow Media Professor, Liane, made your way to the cafeteria for a caffeine fix. The two of you had taught the class together for six years and had been friends for even longer.

Sitting in the cafe sipping your coffee, you both went over the plans for the week and the tasks the students would be working on. This experience was going to be golden for them and you couldn't wait to see how it all went. Heidi nudged you, her eyes wide as she glanced behind you. You turned quickly, and then back just as quick.

"Oh my god Liane, I didn't know HE was in this?" Your cheeks flushed crimson as Cillian Murphy was stood in line to grab a coffee no more than 10 feet away.

"Looks like it's your lucky day!!!" Liane giggled, knowing how much of a crush you'd had on him since 28 Days Later came out.

"So how many times you reckon I can make a fool out of myself in one week huh?"

"Oh at least 7 times. A day." You threw your napkin at her playfully as she laughed at your awkwardness. You were never good around good looking men, and now you were spending a week in the company of one of the best looking men in the fucking world. Excellent.

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian smut #cillian murphy #cillian x smut #cillian murphy x smut #cillian fanfic

[aereres]

Loving You Is Easier Than I Had Expected - Matthew Tkachuk | Rock Band AU

Summary: Being one of the most popular rock band’s personal assistant was never easy: between rushing through traffic, running around, and listening to music, Chordback was part of Deborah Miller’s day-to-day life. As if her schedule wasn’t already busy enough, the band’s drummer - Matthew Tkachuk - stumbles into her life like a tornado, unexpectedly turning her world upside down. 

A/N: Oh. My. God. This fic has truly become my baby. No Joke. I’ve worked on this for almost a month and I’m so proud of what it came out to be. Hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 18,4k (damn)

Warnings: swearing (lots of it), anxiety, fighting, cockiness (also lots of it), drinking and partying, physical fights, wounds, blood, perverts, bad relationships with families, angst, mostly fluff

Chordback needed her. More than anything.

The thought made its way into Deborah’s head as she watched the band sluggishly walk around their shared penthouse, bags under their eyes as they scrambled for their luggage and important belongings. They moved without a care in the world, as if their schedule wasn’t packed with things to do, and she didn’t need to be a genius to realize that they had partied too hard the previous night.

“Move out of the way,” Noah muttered Johnny’s way, pushing past him with his suitcase in hand. “Deb, when’s the flight?”

“The flight isn’t the problem,” she stated, holding back a sigh as Elias came out of the bathroom with toothpaste still painting the side of his lips. “There’s a reason why you decided to fly privately,”

“Then why are we rushing?” Johnny said matter-of-factly, shaking his head sassily while he closed his own bass case.

“Because you have places to be after the flight,” the only woman in the house finally let her sigh out, pushing past the men to clean the white remnants off of Elias’ face, ignoring the smug smirk on his face. “Where’s Matthew, now?”

“Chucky!”

The room fell silent for a moment as she prayed - for anyone up there - that Matthew hadn’t fallen back asleep just when they needed to leave. His frame pushed past the threshold of his bedroom soon after his name was called, his signature drumsticks in hand as a relieved sigh left Deborah’s parted lips when their eyes met.

His phone was pressed to his ear, eyes far too awake for the early morning hour that made her wonder if he had gone to sleep the night before or just stayed up until sunset rolled around. His eyebrows were furrowed, the look she saw just so often painting wrinkles on his forehead as he stayed in silence.

“Taryn, I don’t have time for this right now. I’ll call you later,” the words were rushed, his voice dark and sporting a tip of annoyance before he pressed the red button on the screen. The phone was discarded in the back pocket of his jeans a second later, his eyes finding Deborah’s and making her realize she had been staring, pushing her back into action.

“Are we ready?” She asked, loud enough for everyone to hear. All she got as responses were a few grumbles, followed by the familiar sounds of the luggage the band carried around way too often moving through the penthouse.

The ride to the airport was spent in silence, a few moans and groans leaving the guys’ lips whenever something would be too loud or, in general, too exaggerated. Going through security was just as boring, with Deborah being able to share just a few hushed words with Jean - the band’s manager - before Elias or Noah would shut the two of them down.

“I told them not to drink too much,” Jean muttered under her breath, taking a look at the way Johnny’s eyes had closed. “God, is this what being a mother feels like?”

The older woman looked exasperated as she frantically walked around the boarding area, restraining herself from giving the tired men another lecture about partying like animals and how it affects their public image.

With her arms folded over her chest, Debby watched over the guys slightly older than her. She was still wondering why Matthew was carrying himself better than the rest of his friends, but it was the look on his face that truly left her curious.

His gaze was fixated on his phone, fingers tapping quickly as the wrinkles on his forehead stayed in their place. She was staring. Again. Frustrated with her own self, Deborah turned around to face the floor-to-ceiling windows of the airport, the early sun illuminating the world before your eyes.

She felt peaceful, mind clearing from the stress of the morning right before the flight attendants led her and the band towards the private jet. The luxury of its insides were nothing new to the personal assistant, and it was the same for the inappropriate glances the captain had been sending her way ever since she had started the job.

Noah dropped on one of the leather seats, eyes closing as he shut the world out, Johnny following his actions. Elias and Matthew settled in the seats opposite them, giving Deborah a clear view of the drummer’s features even from your position in the far back.

“We should get there on time,” Jean sighed, gracefully settling down next to the young woman just as the captain started to walk away. His eyes met Deborah’s one last time, a chill running up her spine when he sent her an unwanted wink, as he always used to.

To say she felt uncomfortable was an understatement.

With her heart beating loudly against her chest, she let her fingers play with the bottom of her shirt, eyes trained in front of herself. That man needs to take a hint, was all Deborah could think, so focused on blocking out the rest of the world she didn’t even notice Matthew’s eyes on her.

He had been glancing her way curiously ever since he’d noticed her body stiffen, right when she had walked inside the plane and greeted the conductor. Her demeanor had changed, and he wanted to know why.

He stayed in his seat, though. He watched from the distance, let his eyes trail over her features until she relaxed and hoped she wouldn’t notice. Because that’s what he’s always done: admire her from far away.

-----

“Listen, why can’t you just shut the fuck up and get in there?” Noah hissed, the heated conversation between him and Elias taking place inside the control room of the studio in New York. “You’ve argued about this track ever since I put it down- thank you, sweetheart,”

He grabbed the coffee Deborah handed him with a thankful smile, the flirty nickname not even impressing her anymore as she silently sat down on the closest couch.

“Dude, this track doesn’t represent us!” Elias said, pushing his sheet music around angrily before citing the words of the song. “Oh, why can’t I have you, sweet love of mine? Are you joking, Noah?! These lyrics are pop bullshit. New album is not gonna work if we write shit like this,”

The lead blew out a heavy sigh, fists turning into balls at his sides as his eyes closed. “Actually, you know what? I need to get some air,” was all Elias mumbled, pushing past his best friend with nothing but anger painting his features. Deborah was about to run after him to make sure everything was okay, but Noah’s hand dismissed her attempt.

“Let him go, he needs to cool off,”

The singer didn’t seem too pleased with his friend’s shenanigans, turning to face the empty booth in front of his eyes as another sigh turned his body stiff. Fights had occurred before: Deborah wasn’t new to arguments about where the group was going to eat, or even fights because of girls; but things had started to become too tense, too complicated between the four men.

“Chucky, your turn,” Noah mumbled, snapping the only woman in the room out of her trance to see Matthew walk past her, drumsticks in hand.

He was silent as he sat down in front of the drum set, pushing the pair of headphones over his nest of curls. His tattooed arms were in full display as he gave Noah a thumbs up, a cocky smile painting his lips. Matthew was the living description of a rock star, and Debby couldn’t keep her eyes off of him.

The drummer’s eyes closed as the music started playing in his ears, his drumsticks making a quick turn between his fingers before he began doing what he loved the most. Watching him play had Deborah mesmerized: the way he attentively looked in front of himself to catch Noah’s reactions, or just the movements of his hands as he gave his everything into the performance, even if his only audience were her and Noah.

Deborah was lost in his gaze, his light, stormy eyes making her heart skip a beat. The sounds coming from him came to a halt before she knew it, a satisfied smirk coating his lips as he waited for Noah’s judgment.

It was silent for a few seconds, heavy breathing coming from the singer as he revived the moment and the melody in his head. “Jesus, Matt,” he breathed into the speaker, trying to muffle the shock in his features by batting his eyelids. “You got it perfect on the first time, damn,”

Matthew’s smirk grew bigger, taking its usual cocky mark as he stood up and finally noticed the assistant. When he strutted back inside the control room to grab his belongings, he snickered at her mesmerized gaze.

“Close your mouth before you catch flies, honey,” was all he said, cocking his brow as his smug smile still sat on his lips. The remark had Deborah’s face turn into a scowl, his cocky words engraving themselves in her mind as he walked away.

She bit her lip as she turned back around to face Noah, trying to push Matthew and his cockiness out of her head, with no success. The lead, on the other hand, looked in distress: he was hunched over the console, clearly in his own head as silence engulfed the two of them in a stressful hug.

“Tell me you know how to play the guitar,” he mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes as he turned around to face Deborah. “Or at least how to book a place for us in a bar, tonight,”

“I can do the latter,” she sighed, knowing that Noah’s plans to finish the song would need to involve a night out, alcohol, and girls willing to drool all over Elias’ charm.

“And please, come out with us, Deb,” he continued. “Jean doesn’t want things to go too wild, so we might need you to keep us on track,”

She held back a sigh. Her plans for a relaxing night at the hotel had been crushed. Again. Though a night by herself looked way better than a packed club, Deborah’s job was calling, and she couldn’t refuse.

“Alright, I’ll be there,” she said, taking her phone out of her bag to start the search for the night’s location. “I’ll text you the details,”

“Drinks are on us,”

-

Debby’s ears felt like they were going to bleed soon, and the headache was making her head throb so hard she was hoping not to faint in the middle of the most popular club in New York.

The VIP area was everything she had expected it to be: leather couches that probably cost more than her apartment back in Calgary, enough drinks to make an army drunk, and the entire female population of the city. What could she say? It was Chordback worthy.

Elias’ cheeks were tinted a dark shade of red, eyes gleaming even in the darkness of the club as he held two blondes close to his body. The smirk Deborah knew so well was painting his lips - the one he reserved for flirting purposes only - as she watched him charm another set of girls in his hotel bed.

He was the second oldest in the band, but it hadn’t taken the assistant years to realize his maturity level wasn’t what every girl on the internet expected it to be. Clad in his tight, pitch-black skinny jeans and shirt - not exactly what people would expect a rock star to dress like -, he knew how to attract girls.

Noah had tried to convince him to record his guitar solo the moment their drinks were placed in front of them, but he had ended up with no success when the guitarist had left the table mid-conversation to go dance. The lead’s patience was running low, and Debby was sure his night wasn’t going to turn out as good as he had thought it would.

If that wasn’t enough, she felt stared at. Everywhere she went, a pair of eyes was following her. Debby would turn around to find scowls coloring the groupies’ faces, their orbs giving her disgusted once-overs whenever she’d go as far as to grasp Noah’s arm to avoid falling over, or even lean close enough to ask where Matthew had gone. She had never liked being the center of attention, hence why she had decided to work behind the scenes.

By the time midnight hit, though, she had had enough. The day had been tiring, the club was anything but enjoyable, and the glaring had gone from bearable to annoyingly uncomfortable. Almost stomping her way towards the couch, Debby’s arms folded over her own chest as she stood before Matthew Tkachuk’s relaxed body.

“Okay, I’m done with this bullshit,” she yelled loudly enough to be heard over the thumping bass of the music. “Do I have something on my face?”

Matthew’s smirk paired with his arched eyebrows did its job at making the younger girl feel embarrassed. In some ways, it sent her back to the days in high school, where the popular girls only needed one of their disgusted glances to make her shut herr mouth and feel embarrassed.

Deborah ignored his expression, waiting for a response as a girl sat next to him - so close she was almost straddling his lap. “No? Why would you think that?”

“Because everyone is staring at me as if I have shit smeared all over my face,”

The words snatched a chuckle out of his system, tongue wetting his lips as he gave Debby’s body a once-over. “They think you’re a new one. One of them,”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to unravel his riddle, but nothing seemed to make sense in her mind. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“They think you’re a new groupie, that you’re stealing their place,”

“I’m not a fucking groupie,” she said, confusion clear in her features as she watched him sling his arm over the girl at his side. “I’ve been your PA for two years now!”

All Matthew did was shrug, smirking as he watched the look of annoyance spread over the personal assistant’s face. She was done. She wanted to leave the busy club behind with all the nasty glares and go back to the hotel to sleep.

Skimming past sweaty bodies, she reached Noah’s side after a few minutes. She had expected him to be having fun, but his features were still sporting a bothered scowl. “Noah!”

His attention snapped towards her in a second, his eyes boring into Deborah’s as he waited for her to speak up. “I’m heading to the hotel, I can’t stand this club anymore,”

A small nod was all she got in response, her eyes falling among the crowd to see Johnny making out with a smaller brunette, his hair sticking all over the place. Glancing towards the side of the room, she found Elias sitting on the couch, enjoying the sloppy kisses being spread all over his neck by the two blondes from earlier. Matthew, on the other hand, was still sitting on the couch - this time without his companion - his light orbs focused on Noah and their assistant.

“Can you please keep an eye on the rest of the guys?” She asked Noah, looking up at him as she waited for his response. He gave you a curt nod. “And don’t stay out too late,”

She left the club soon after, strutting out of the packed room with relief. Debby still felt eyes on herself, but not the ones of the rabid fans that had hated her since the moment she had stepped inside the room. Matthew’s eyes.

They watched her walk away, ignoring the pair of manicured hands touching his arm to catch his attention. He had been the reason why everyone was looking at her, and it wasn’t hard to tell. Yet, she was oblivious.

They had thought Deborah was a groupie because of the way he looked at her, because what his eyes held whenever he’d let himself glance her way wasn’t just curiosity. It was fondness, hunger, a cocktail of emotions that he had been trying to avoid for his own sake.

But, that time, he had lost at his own game.

-

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

Jean’s voice was sharp, so shrill it sent bolts of pain through Deborah’s temples. She had watched the scene unfold in front of your eyes, starting with the unexpected awakening in the middle of the night, ending with all the band members getting lectured by their agent.

The woman in her forties looked like she was about to tug her dark hair off of her scalp, an angry look on her face as she looked at the men sitting in front of her. “Jean, calm down. It was just a fight,”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, boy!” Jean pointed her finger sharply at his face, nostrils flaring. “Just a fight, Elias?! It’s all over the internet!”

Guilt washed over Debby as she took in Noah’s beat-up face, including his cut lip and purplish left eye; Matthew, next to him, wasn’t doing any better. She was supposed to be there, to keep an eye on the guys.

Jean had woken her up in a rush an hour after coming back to the hotel, mumbling under her breath as she dragged Deborah to her personal room. Chordback was already sitting on the edge of her bed, their eyes cast on the floor as the assistant noticed their bruises and cuts.

“I hate to say this, Elias, but you’ve been causing problems for the past month,” Jean sighed, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand as her tired eyes focused on the landscape out of the hotel’s window. “First the schedule, then Noah’s song, now whatever happened at the club,”

She let another sigh slip past her lips before her voice took a gentler tone. “John, what happened?”

There was a beat before the bass player spoke, and Deborah took a moment to examine his face. He was by far the one that hadn’t been affected by the fight, at all. “I- uh… I don’t know,”

The assistant had to refrain from holding back a sigh herself, her tense body language catching Elias’ eye. “Why are we the only ones getting lectured? Deborah was supposed to stay with us,”

“This is not about Debby,” Jean stated harshly, sending him a glare. “She wasn’t getting paid to follow you at the club, and she had every right to leave when she felt like it. John, keep going,”

“I said I don’t know anything,”

“Matthew?”

The curly-haired man sighed, his head lifting upwards just then to let his eyes meet the wall briefly. “I was talking with a girl, people started yelling, and I heard Elias talking shit about Noah’s song”

Deborah’s stomach filled with an unknown feeling when he mentioned a girl, sending her head in a spiral to ask herself what the hell was she experiencing. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“And I just couldn’t take it,” Matthew stopped, his fingers ghosting over the cuts on his knuckles. “Man, that’s a heartfelt song and you went around to talk shit about it to strangers,”

Elias kept his mouth shut, jaw clenching as his friend continued talking. “Noah and Johnny also came in, but just in time to separate us,”

“Then what happened to your face, Noah?” Jean asked, concern evident in her voice.

“I- uh… I was seeing red,” Matthew mumbled, silence filling the room soon after the words left his mouth. Deborah was left to look at a desperate Jean - clearly close to having a mental breakdown - and hope things would get better by the time morning would roll in.

Her mind, though, couldn’t focus on anything but Matthew. He looked beaten up, both physically and mentally; he looked like he was holding so much on his shoulders, so much pressure she wanted to relieve him of.

“Matthew, John,” Jean sighed, looking behind his shoulders at the two men briefly. “You can go get some sleep. You too, Debby,”

She had never shuffled out of a room that quickly in her entire life, the tension being so overwhelming she needed a breath of fresh air. Johnny and Matthew were silent as they stepped out of the room, a physical and emotional distance separating them as they parted ways.

The moment was awkward, Matthew turning around just in time to see his friend shut the door of his room behind himself, a sigh leaving his lips. His eyes met Deborah’s for a quick second, a wave of shame flowing through them.

In some way, she felt like part of that shame was directed at herself too: his snarky, cocky words were still impressed in her mind, but she could see his regret. She wished her heartbeat hadn’t started picking up, but looking in his eyes, she couldn’t help it.

He was asking for forgiveness, and who was she to not give it to him? He was the only person she couldn’t stop thinking about day and night, anyway, for some reason.

“Come with me,” Deborah whispered, her voice shallower than she had thought it would be as her hand caught his. He didn’t ask questions when she opened her room’s door, he didn’t speak a word as she led him towards the en-suite bathroom, and he didn’t run away when she made him sit on the edge of the bathtub.

More silence settled between the two of them as Debby grabbed the first-aid kit the hotel supplied, wetting a cotton ball with disinfectant before letting her hand grab Matthew’s again.

There was a soft hiss when she first let the material touch his bloody skin, his jaw clenching as he closed his eyes. “I feel like a monster,”

His words made the woman’s heart clench, her stomach turning into jelly. “You’re not a monster, Matthew,”

“I hit my best friend because I couldn’t hold myself back,” he breathed out, voice unexpectedly shaky as he kept his gaze on the tile floor. “I’m a monster,”

Deborah sighed, letting her fingers grasp his chin so he could lift his head up. Their eyes met as she prepared another cotton ball, ready to clean the cut on his bottom lip as they let silence fill the room.

Cradling his head in her hands, Debby took a few minutes to wipe some dried blood off his skin. Matthew was tired, she could tell from the way his eyes were struggling to stay open, but regret was keeping him up, keeping his brain active.

She let herself gaze at him for a small moment before patting his shoulder. “Get some sleep, Matt,” she whispered. “Really,”

He nodded gingerly, following her towards her door. “Thank you, Deb,”

“Don’t worry about it,”

He took a moment to admire her, letting one of his hands gently push a strand of stray hair out of her face. Her body heated up, heart rate quickening as she watched him leave silently, a small smile on his lips.

In a trance, Deborah went back to bed, sleep not on her agenda anymore. Her mind kept repeating the moment she had had with Matthew, every single second of it, and it felt new, unexpected.

Matthew Tkachuk was making her feel things she had never felt before, and everything was so unknown to her.

That night, Deborah struggled to fall back asleep.

-----

“You’re gonna catch a cold,”

The evening air was making Deborah’s hair flow around herself, her eyes focusing on the sunset before turning around to meet Matthew’s. A small smile formed on her lips, her arms folding over her chest. “Nah, my body won’t betray me like that,”

The chuckle that left his lips was enough to push the butterflies in her stomach back to life. His body reached Debby’s side as he focused too on the setting sun disappearing behind the New York skyscrapers.

“Truly the best time of the day,” she mumbled under her breath. “Sunsets are just so beautiful,”

Matthew sent a quick glance her way. “But the night,” was all he said, voice holding a tone of fondness as he looked in front of himself. “The night is just so beautiful,”

“The night is lonely,” the assistant pointed.

“The night is peaceful,” he corrected her, the smile on his lips so tender it made her melt. “Everyone goes to sleep at night, and it gives you time to think,”

There was a beat of silence as she took in his words, heart racing as she unconsciously scooted closer to him. The question was risky. It rushed through Deborah’s lips, and her eyes almost closed in fear of rejection. “What do you think about? At night, I mean,”

“I think about good memories,” his answer was quick, no sign of discomfort on his face. “About my childhood, or people I miss,”

He glanced her way with a smile on his lips, the air from the top of the building making his curls move slightly. “And what do you think about? At night, I mean,”

“Life, I guess,”

There was a nod from his side, his eyes turning back to focus on the landscape as another round of silence filled the distance between the two of them. Deborah’s mind started to think about his words, pushing her away from reality as she tried to keep herself at bait. You weren’t his type, and what about Taryn?

The identity of Taryn was still unknown to the girl, but something was telling her she was eventually going to find out. She was so into her own world that she barely registered the soft material of Matthew’s leather jacket slipping onto her shoulders, his eyes glancing her way.

His body leaned against the railing of the terrace, slipping unbelievably closer to hers as the two of them admired each other. “God, Deborah,” he whispered, letting one of his hands graze over her cheekbone. Her heart was beating out of her chest so loudly she feared he could hear it, his palm slowly cupping her cheek as he let his eyes admire her. “I wish I could have met you earlier,”

His lips were extremely close to Debby’s, so close she barely even paid attention to what he had said. As the words registered, she opened her mouth to ask for an explanation, but the ringing of his phone interrupted the moment.

His eyelids shut in annoyance as he slipped the device out of his back pocket, answering as soon as he could. “I’ll be down in a sec,”

He was off the railing before he even ended the call, leaving Deborah on her own on the terrace of the building that hosted Chordback’s recording label. He turned around just when she called his name, voice strained by the sudden end of just what had been about to happen.

“Your jacket, Matt,” she pointed, starting to shrug it off just so she could hand it back to him. His hand rose in the air, putting her movements to a halt.

“Keep it,” he said, smiling gingerly before opening the door to head back inside the warmth of the building. “It looks better on you anyway,”

-----

“I wanna do it again,” Johnny said from the booth, looking at Noah as he strummed lightly his bass. “I fucked up the last part,”

From her spot on the smallest - and most uncomfortable - couch she had ever seen, Deborah watched Noah nod his head, pressing a few buttons on the console. The bass player’s head started bobbing when the music started filling his headphones, eyes almost closing as he started playing his melody.

Her tired eyes fell down on her phone, the brightness of its screen almost making her curse out. It was well past midnight, and Deborah’s day had been more than busy: the boys had to record a podcast episode with a famous producer, and she hadn’t even had a moment to settle down at the studio before a call from Jean pushed her up on her feet and around New York.

Her head was pounding, but she wasn’t allowed to leave the studio until the band decided to finish their session and go back to the hotel, so she sat in silence next to Matthew. He was silent too, glancing in front of himself as the faint sound of Johnny’s bass sent him in a trance.

As Debby’s eyes struggled to stay open, she stretched her back, holding back a moan when she felt just how tense her muscles were. Her movements snapped Matt out of his daydreaming, his orbs finding hers in the dimly lit studio as she settled back into her initial place.

“You okay?” He asked, voice uncharacteristically soft as he kept his gaze trained on the assistant.

“Just tired,” was all she said, pushing out a sigh as she folded her arms over her chest. Who turned on the AC, for fuck’s sake?

“Johnny prefers working in the cold,” Matthew murmured, almost reading her thoughts. “You want me to turn off the AC?”

Deborah shook her head, trying to hide a veil of shock at his unexpected words, kindness spilling out of them like a fountain. “No, no. It’s fine, don’t worry,”

Though she had been trying as hard as she could to keep herself awake, her body found itself scooting closer to Matthew’s, his warmth making her eyelids finally close. Debby’s head dropped to his shoulder, finally letting her relax for the first time of the day. A content sigh left her lips.

Matthew’s heart was beating out of his chest, emotions he had felt just once making him shiver. One of his arms wrapped itself around the girl’s waist, holding her close and hoping the moment would never end.

She was so close, so soft in his hold he never wanted to let go.

So he closed his eyes, putting his world to a stop just so he could hold her for a little more, just so he could imagine what it would feel like to be hers.

He was woken up after what felt like hours, Noah’s smirk being the first thing he saw after the midnight nap. Deborah’s head was on his chest, eyes closed and a relaxed smile painting her lips as she peacefully slept.

“And then I’m the obvious one,” Noah joked, referring to all the chirps he had gotten for always looking smitten, when he liked someone. “Should I be waiting for a love song from you?”

“Shut the fuck up, man,” Matthew hissed, a smile forming on his lips even after the chirps. “What time is it?”

“One a.m.”

“Damn,” Matthew sighed, rubbing his eyes before looking down at Debby again. “I’ll wake her up. Just wait outside for us,”

“Don’t fuck on the couch,” Noah joked, making Matthew roll his eyes. The lead shut the door behind him and Johnny, leaving Deborah and the man able to make her heart skip a beat on their own.

Matt took a moment to admire her peaceful state, one of his calloused hands cupping her cheek before pushing a strand of hair out of her face. The movements had Deborah stirring, her eyes slowly opening just to see - and feel - Matthew close to her.

With her cheeks burning, she pushed herself off of him, an awkward chuckle leaving her parted lips. “I’m, uh- I’m sorry,” Debby stuttered, running a hand through her hair. “How long was I out for?”

“An hour, maybe?”

She looked down at her phone to check the time, nodding her head when she saw the digits at the top of the screen. “Everyone is done?”

“They’re waiting outside,” he said, voice tender as he watched her rise to her feet. With a nod, Deborah grabbed her purse and let her eyes meet with his. She didn’t know what to say, so the two of them were left in silence before she muttered something and left the room in a rush, heart beating quickly against her rib cage.

By the time Debby reached the rest of the group outside - Elias still missing in action -, she was faced with grins. Nobody talked, though, and by the time she shut the hotel door behind herself, she was a nervous mess.

What the fuck had just happened?

-----

The last morning in New York was sunny. Deborah’s sunglasses barely could do their job as she sat between the band on the outside of the overpriced café they loved. The slight breeze was bringing the first few hints of summer in the busy air of the city, and the woman enjoyed her last moment in the Big Apple by taking a sip of the warm drink sitting in front of her.

It was the first time Chordback actually sat down together after the fight between Noah and Elias, and it felt refreshing. Johnny and Matthew - who was sitting beside her - were talking, just like the old times, and Elias was taking a moment to admire the city. Noah, on the other hand, wasn’t paying much attention to his background: his eyes were focused on his phone, a smile that Debby could only refer to as smitten painting his lips.

“So, what are the plans for the day, hun?” Elias caught the assistant’s attention, the pet name making her chuckle.

“Hun? Oh my God,” she giggled, pushing the conversation behind herself before opening her mouth again. “We gotta catch the flight back to Calgary and then you’re free,”

A whistle came from Johnny, happy chuckles filling their surroundings. “A day off? Wow,”

“No partying, though,” Deborah warned, pointing a finger Elias’ way, who shrugged innocently. The moment was short-lived, being interrupted by a younger fan asking for a picture. The guys all put on a smile, rising to their feet and getting in position. Noah took more time than necessary to put down his phone, but eventually joined his friends and greeted the girl, who looked like she was about to faint.

By the time the photo was taken, the girl was running off to her family holding back happy tears. The band members sat back in their places to finish their breakfast, silence thickening at the table.

Deborah’s eyes met Matthew’s, remembering what had happened during the band’s last studio session, her cheeks heating up. There hadn’t been any moments where the two of them could discuss not only the cuddling, but also the time when she had helped him clean his wounds up after the fight at the club, and Debby was feeling torn.

She didn’t know why, but in some way she didn’t want to discuss the events. She thought it was ridiculous that she couldn’t figure out what she was feeling, what Matthew was doing to her. Debby couldn’t figure out her own feelings, and figuring his out was more difficult than she had expected.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the devil himself, pushing her back to reality with his voice. “Hanifin, what the hell are you doing with that phone?” Matt teased, his signature smirk painting his lips.

“I, uh-” the lead stuttered, finally putting his device on top of the table as he looked up at the assistant and his friends. “I was just sending a text,”

“Just one?” Johnny chirped, chuckling when Noah’s cheeks turned a dark shade of red. “I think he’s hiding something from us, guys,”

“I sent the demo of ‘As Long As I’m With You’ to the person it’s written about,”

There was a beat of silence as Elias, Matthew, and Johnny all took in their lead’s words. “‘As Long As I’m With You’ as in the song we fought over?” Elias asked, voice filled with surprise as he waited for a response. Noah just nodded, biting back a smile as his eyes met with Matthew’s.

“Chucky knew,” he mumbled. “That’s why he punched you in the face when you talked shit about it,”

“Oh! That’s what he meant with ‘heartfelt’,” Elias laughed, shaking his head before breathing out a guilty sigh. “I’m sorry, man. Should have just kept my mouth shut,”

“I told you, it’s fine,” Noah said, his eyes glancing down towards his phone when the screen lit up, the guys finally finishing their breakfast.

“What’s her name, man?”

“Aleena,” just the mention of her name made the lead smile. “She’s back in Calgary,”

“And you didn’t tell us?!” Matt exclaimed, dramatically holding a hand to his chest. “This one hurts, man,”

“Did she like it?” Elias asked.

“The demo? She loved it,” Noah chuckled, cheeks turning uncharacteristically red. He gulped down his coffee, eyes glancing Deborah’s way as he stood up. “Ready to go?”

And by the time they reached the airport, the band was back as if the fights, bickering, and internal annoyance hadn’t happened. She had always been surprised at how strong their bond actually was that she found herself hurting when the thoughts of them possibly separating even crossed her mind.

The wait at the gate was not as long as the one from weeks prior, the private plane already waiting for everyone by the time they had gone through security. Deborah had to repress a groan when she realized the pilot was going to greet her, just like every time.

His dark eyes were on her before she could even walk inside the aircraft, the edges of his mouth turning upwards into a creepy smirk as he shook Johnny’s hand. It felt like a routine: Debby would greet the two kind flight assistants, share a knowing look with them before sticking her hand out to shake the pilot’s. The wink he sent her way wasn’t new, and neither was his hand squeezing her waist before he walked back to his seat.

Her eyes portrayed the usual emptiness they always did after entering the plane, and Matthew was quick to notice. That time, though, he knew why she turned the world off as soon as they’d board. He had been guessing Deborah was afraid of heights, or that flying made her sick, but he would have never guessed it was because of the pilot.

He elbowed Noah without even thinking, his eyes still glancing the assistant’s way as his best friend hissed. “What the fuck, Chucky?!”

“We need to talk,”

Noah sent Matthew a confused glare, eyebrows scrunched together as he followed the drummer’s gaze. He looked at Deborah, then back at his bandmate with a look of confusion still coloring his face. “Well, talk, then,”

“Later,” Matthew mumbled. “We’ll talk when we land, this needs to stay private,”

Noah nodded his head, trying to ignore his friend’s weird manners before pushing his earbuds back in. Matthew, on the other hand, stared at the girl a few seats away. Anger made his skin boil as he thought about the man that had harassed her. If the fucker hadn’t been driving the plane she was on, he would have already been dead.

The newfound protectiveness sent a thrill of shock through his spine, but he ignored it. Deborah didn’t deserve it, and the man was going to regret every single glance he had sent her way. You don’t mess with a Tkachuk, Matthew thought. The man was going to pay.

-----

The city of Calgary held something Deborah couldn’t quite place. In her eyes, it looked like home.

Home, though, was back in Arizona - the complete opposite of what Calgary is. With the hot sun burning your shoulders almost the entire year and the endless summers, Arizona was the place Debby went back to just for her family. She had always preferred the cold, after all.

Thanksgiving was around the corner, the Canadian air was starting to thicken with the winter cold, and home was calling. And she was single, again. It wasn’t because of her parents - they truly knew she was one to put work before anything else -, but rather the rest of her family.

Deborah had grown up knowing that her father’s side of the family was ruthless when it came to getting back home alone, and it had been bothering her ever since she had first moved out. The snarky remarks coming from her aunt and her husband had always been following Deborah around the walls of her childhood home and, no matter how hard she tried to push them away, she just couldn’t.

And, God. She hated it so much.

In some way, it made the woman want to spend the holiday on her own, away from the prying eyes of her relatives and away from the stress they caused. But she loved her family too much, and leaving them behind wasn’t an option.

When Deborah walked inside the band’s penthouse, she was met with unexpected silence. The entry hall was tidy, the guys’ respective coats hanging one next to the other; the kitchen was clean, plates and cups stored in their designated cupboard; the living room, on the other hand, wasn’t empty.

Matthew was sitting on one of the two couches, a notepad in his hands as he looked out of the window. His eyes were glancing at the gray clouds painting the sky, covering the first few rays of sunlight of the morning.

“Good morning,”

Her voice seemed to shake him out of his trance, body snapping around to meet her eyes as she slowly pushed her coat down her shoulders. “‘Morning, D,”

“Where are the guys?”

“Still sleeping,” Matthew mumbled, watching Debby’s every move as she let her purse sit on one of the kitchen stools. She made her way towards the couch, sitting down next to him as she tried to ignore the tension rising between the two of them, just like it always did.

The trip to New York had seemed to make a big difference in what their friendship - if you could even call it that - was, even if anything barely happened. Seeing him play, falling asleep on his shoulder, taking care of him after the fight - in some way, it all made a difference, and Debby was sure Matthew could tell, too.

That night she had fallen asleep in the car and he carried her to her hotel room? The tea he had brought her that one morning when she was feeling sick? And the talk. The sunset talk.

He didn’t seem to notice the way her heart beat for him and him only, he was so oblivious it made Deborah frustrated.

“How are you doing?” He asked, the soft thud of his notepad hitting the floor making the assistant bat her eyelashes and bringing her back to reality.

“I’m okay,” she admitted, running a hand through her hair as her eyes focused on him. “Just thinking about Thanksgiving,”

He chuckled. “You going back home?”

“I mean, I probably should head back to Arizona,” she sighed, shaking her head before opening her mouth again. “I’m just not ready to have the ‘oh, why can’t a pretty girl like you find a good man to marry?’ talk again,”

“Oh, God,” the man in front of her chuckled. “Been there,”

“What about you? Are you going home?”

There was a beat before his voice darkened, eyes glazing with something Deborah couldn’t quite place as his hand toyed with the hem of his shirt. “No,”

He let his answer linger in the air, the penthouse turning silent again as he stared ahead of himself. From Debby’s spot next to him, it seemed like he was in his thoughts, his lips pushed in a straight line as he let the emptiness of the house hit the two of them.

Another beat. “My family and I are not too close,”

“Oh,” she murmured, eyebrows furrowing as she let her eyes focus on something else other than his face. He looked saddened, in some kind of way, but mainly pissed. “So, uh- spending it with anyone special?”

“Oh no,” his tense jaw slowly turned back to normal as he repressed a chuckle. “I’m single,”

Then who the hell was Taryn?

He seemed to catch on to Deborah’s confused gaze, an eyebrow cocking as he looked at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” her cheeks heated up, embarrassment making her heartbeat quicken as shee looked at her fingers. The look on his face spurred the woman on, her voice becoming shallow as she spoke. “I just- I heard you talking to a girl named Taryn, so I just kind of assumed-”

His laughter interrupted her, waking up the mass of butterflies in her stomach just when his head lulled back against the couch’s headrest. “Oh my God,” he laughed, holding his stomach before looking back at her. “Taryn is my sister,”

“Oh,”

Deborah erupted in a fit of laughter too, shaking her head before letting it lean against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I don’t even know why I thought that,”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled. “Some groupies went as far as to call her to tell her to leave me alone,”

The confession made her eyebrows scrunch. Girls did that to him?

Silence settled back between the two of them as Debby’s eyes focused on the city starting to wake up outside the window. The thought that crossed her mind felt wrong from the moment she even tried to phrase it. But there’s nothing worse than spending Thanksgiving on your own, was all her heart could say.

She glanced quickly at Matthew, who was scribbling something on his notepad. The light redness painting his cheeks had her heart clenching with longing, her hands tingling, begging to run through his messy curls. He was truly breathtaking, Deborah couldn’t get enough of him.

“Come to Arizona with me,” the words were rushed, unexpected. They had her surprised when they left her own mouth, and Matthew’s shock was evident as he turned his head around to glance her way.

“I-”

“Spending Thanksgiving on your own fucking sucks,” Debby pointed out. “And I won’t let you experience that on my watch,”

He laughed, shaking his head before letting their eyes meet. “I don’t want to intrude,”

“You would never intrude,” the woman said, voice gentle as she restrained herself from cradling his cheek. “And my mom has been begging to meet you guys ever since I started working for you,”

That confession made a laugh ripple out of his lips, the sound making her body feel alive. “So? Yes or no?”

There was a moment where he let his gaze meet Debby’s, his fondness hugging her warmly as she momentarily forgot how to speak.

“Only if the tickets are on me,”

She frowned jokingly, biting her lip to hide a smile before speaking. “We’re set,”

-----

“Oh my God, I missed you so much,” Deborah’s mother wept as she left her arms around her daughter’s frame, the crispy wind of Thanksgiving Eve making the afternoon air unexpectedly chilly. “I told you, you should come home more often,”

Debby chuckled at her comment, pushing herself away from her mother to introduce Matthew - her boss and her date. She was fucked. “Mom, this is Matthew. He’s the drummer of the band I work for,”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Miller. Thank you for having me,”

From the smile on her mother’s lips, Deborah knew she was sold. The older woman had never been one for tattoos, but Debby had caught her admiring Matthew’s full sleeves from the moment he had crossed her vision; he had helped his date carry her luggage, and she was sure her mom had also noticed that, hence why she was smiling at him as if he had just proposed to her only daughter.

“Come in already, guys. Grandma has just arrived, too,” she mumbled, waving a hand in the air as a signal for the two to get inside.

“Grandma?”

The sight of her sitting on the couch, eyes focused on knitting made Deborah almost tear up. Grandma was home. Her voice shook the elder out of her trance, her body slowly rising to its feet to embrace Deborah in a longing hug. “Oh, Peaches,” the nickname still held all the memories from her childhood, and her arms circling the assistant made her feel at peace. “I missed you,”

“I missed you, too, grandma,” Debby sniffled, pulling away to introduce Matt to her, too. Her grandmother’s eyes were curious as they scanned him, probably blocking out her granddaughter’s introduction to focus on him instead.

“Where are you from, son?” Her phrase - especially the name she gave Matthew, who was almost twice her height - had the youngest woman in the household repressing a giggle. Matthew, on the other hand, grew quite nervous.

“I was uh- born in Arizona, but grew up in St. Louis,”

The grandmother gave a curt nod, sitting back down on the couch and motioning for Debby to sit down next to her. Her mother joined the room with quick steps, her hand finding Matthew’s shoulder to push his eyes off of the woman that stole his breath away every passing day.

“Deb, I figured Matthew could stay in the basement? Would it be okay?”

The man in question nodded, a smile forming on his lips as he thanked Debby’s mother. He was led towards the stairs before she knew it, a reassuring smile being sent her way before she was left on her own with her grandma.

“He seems nice,” the older woman mumbled, eyes still focused on the hat she was making. “You said he plays the drums?”

“Yes, he’s great,”

There was a beat of silence before she looked up at her granddaughter, eyebrows wiggling jokingly. “You together?”

Deborah’s cheeks heated up, her head shaking quickly soon after as her eyes focused on her lap. There wasn’t a response from her grandmother, who silently went back to her previous tasks and letting her think.

What the hell were the two of them even doing?! Matthew was practically her boss, if something went wrong, she’d probably get fired, for God’s sake. Deborah’s life was literally walking on a thread: one wrong decision and she would be done.

No more working for Chordback, no more traveling with the band. No more Matt.

And she couldn’t let that happen. Her heart was beating for the drummer, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Whatever was going to happen during the holidays, she was hoping it wasn’t going to end everything between her and Matt before it even started. She wasn’t going to let that happen.

She felt like her happy ending might have been closer than she had thought.

-

The morning after Matthew and Deborah’s arrival was busier than the latter had expected. The loud noises coming from the kitchen woke her up from her deep, peaceful slumber, and by the time she made it downstairs, the house was in full swing.

Her mother and grandma were zooming around the family home, rushing around with pots and pans, not a care in the world when it came to waking up the rest of the household. Her father, on the other hand, was sitting at the kitchen island, a comical look of exasperation painting wrinkles on his face.

The stairs leading towards the basement weren’t empty either: a quite shocked - and still sleepy - Matt stood right on the last step, watching the net of nerves Deborah’s family had created unfold in front of his eyes.

“Well, good-fucking-morning,” the woman giggled, turning around just in time to catch him chuckle, his body clad in an old band tee and a pair of plaid pants she had never seen him wear. His arm lifted itself up in the air, hand signaling her to come closer before he could wrap the limb around her body, his relaxing scent filling her nostrils.

“Good morning,” he hummed, voice still hoarse after the multiple hours of sleep. “Looks pretty chaotic in here,”

“And you haven’t seen Christmas,” Debby giggled, the sound of his laughter making her heart skip a beat. “Dad’s having breakfast, I’m sure he won’t mind if we join,”

The curls on top of Matthew’s head bobbed along with his nod as he followed her towards the main source of sound - and chaos - in the household. Deborah translated her father’s grumble into what she could only guess was a ‘good morning’, and took it upon herself to make coffee for her and Matt.

Debby longingly watched him talk to her father as she waited for the warm beverage to get ready, realizing that with each day passing, she was falling for him even more. It was a shock to her, if she had to be honest. She was falling deeply in love with someone she hadn’t even shared a kiss with, but God, she was more than smitten.

The beeping of the coffee machine shocked her out of your lovesick trance, Deborah’s eyelashes batting a few times before she grabbed their mugs and headed towards the island.

“Yeah, the Oilers are definitely having a good season,” Matthew agreed to whatever her father had said. “Leafs have been doing pretty well too,”

“You’re right, son,”

“What are you talking about?” Debby asked, a smile on her lips as she sat next to Matthew.

“Hockey,” her father said, tipping his head back to finish his dark coffee. “Matthew told me his brother plays for the Senators,”

The girl’s eyes widened, searching for Matthew’s face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, eyes not moving from his coffee until he changed the conversation, leaving her utterly in the dark about his family situation. Deborah thought it was funny that just a few minutes prior, she was thinking she was falling in love with the man sitting beside her, when in reality she knew just a few things about his life. “So, uh- should I wear anything specific today?”

“Just something slightly elegant, mom doesn’t care too much,” she said, smiling when he nodded his head.

“Should I wear a tie?”

“Oh, God,”

“Hey, I brought one with me just in case!” He said, a hint of joking in his tone as he sipped on his coffee. “Ties are cool,”

“I’ve never seen you wear one in your life, Matt,” Deborah giggled. “And I’ve been working with you for two years,”

“Maybe I wear them in my free time, how could you know that?”

She laughed, shaking her head as the world came to a halt around them. It was just her and Matthew, joking in the kitchen at half-past-eight in the morning, voices still hoarse as they sipped on their coffee. Debby’s brain could only think that, maybe, she could get used to it.

By the time dinner rolled around, she felt nervous. She watched herself twirl one last time in front of her mirror, the flowered dress she was wearing moving with her as she breathed out a sigh.

Another Thanksgiving. Debby was secretly hoping it would be better than all the other holidays, and something in her was telling her it was going to be the best Thanksgiving of her life. Because Matthew came along.

Closing her childhood bedroom door behind herself, Deborah heard the familiar voices of her relatives coming from the first floor, her aunt’s shrill tone standing taller than the rest.

“And who’s the new addition to the family?”

Debby’s eyes widened, a muttered curse leaving her lips as she sprinted down the stairs, all the attention being lifted onto her when she almost fell face first in the middle of the living room.

“Debs! Happy Thanksgiving!”

The greetings were all quickly sent her way, followed by hugs and small talk as she greeted the new guests. Deborah’s aunt, though, didn’t take long before going back to Matthew, a mischievous look on her face as she gave him a once-over.

“Back to you, darling. New addition to the family? We haven’t met yet,”

“I’m Matthew,” Debby’s - well... - date said, a charming smile that would be able to make millions of girls swoon painting his lips. Your aunt’s hand moved in the air, spurring his presentation on in an embarrassing way. “I’m uh- I’m Deborah’s boyfriend,”

The silence that filled the room only highlighted the assistant’s shock even more. Matthew Tkachuk literally had told her entire family he was her boyfriend. What the actual fuck.

“Oh my God! And you weren’t gonna tell me, Debs?!”

Her aunt pulled her in a bone crushing hug, hopefully not noticing the panic evident on her features. “Finally! I thought you were going to stay single forever!”

Deborah pushed out a fake giggle, looking up at Matthew with confusion in her eyes. What she got in return was a wink, the smile on her fake-boyfriend’s lips spurring her to keep the act going.

“Dinner is served, everyone!”

Debby had to refrain herself from pushing out a sigh of relief, her hand lacing with Matthew’s as she tapped her mother’s shoulder. “I gotta talk to Matt, we will be back in a second, I swear,”

Without waiting for a response, Deborah pushed past the people surrounding them before reaching the closest bathroom, locking the door behind the two of them. “Matthew, what the hell are we doing?”

The chuckle that left his lips made her eyebrows furrow, arms wrapping over her chest. “This is no joke! Now my entire family thinks we’re together!”

“Let’s just act like we are, then,” he pointed, shoulders shrugging as he let his fingertips play with the edge of her dress. “You look beautiful, by the way,”

Ignoring the way her cheeks heated up and her heart started racing, Debby pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bathtub. “God, why did you do that?”

“You said you didn’t wanna face the usual nosy questions, I helped with that,” Matthew smirked, his hands inching higher until they ended up holding her waist. “All we need to do is act as if we’re in love, and that’s not hard,”

Normally, Deborah wouldn’t have paid much attention to his last remark, seeing how easy it had been for Noah to fake a relationship for PR once, but his tone held something. She couldn’t quite place it, but it made it sound like the words had a deeper meaning. On the other hand, he was right: acting like she was in love with him would be easier than expected, because she looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky, and she couldn’t deny it.

Deborah smiled at the genius in front of her, though, taking one last look at his glacial eyes before letting their hands slip together.

“I knew you were trouble, Matthew Tkachuk,” but God, she loved him for it.

-

Dinner went better than expected, and for the first time in years, Thanksgiving brought a smile to Deborah’s lips. Was it because Matthew was by her side? She didn’t know. What she did know, though, was how good his arms around her felt, how addicting his lips on her cheek and temple were.

By the time her relatives left her house, Deborah was still buzzing. She had drunk a glass of wine, but she wasn’t buzzed on alcohol. She was buzzed on Matthew’s attention.

The two of them stood by her parents as they waved her aunt’s white car goodbye, his strong arm wrapped around her waist as he smiled oh so tenderly.

“Dad and I are heading to sleep,” Deborah’s mother mumbled. “We can take care of the dishes tomorrow morning,”

“Alright,” was all the daughter said. “I’ll be upstairs in a few,”

Matthew wished her mother goodnight, tugging Debby along inside the household as soon as the older woman reached the top of the stairs. His eyes filled with their familiar glimmer Debby knew too well, a smile forming on her lips as he twirled her in his arms. “We should get into acting,”

“Totally,” she giggled, her arms wrapping themselves around his neck as their eyes stayed in contact. “We slayed it,”

“I knew we would,” he admitted, head so close to hers his breath fanned over her nose. “Loving you is easier than I had expected, Deborah,”

The words were unexpected, but they engraved themselves in the woman’s mind as soon as her brain recepted them. The butterflies in her stomach were making every single muscle in her body tingle, and when one of Matthew’s hands cupped her cheek, Deborah feared her legs would give up on her.

His scent invaded her senses the second he came closer, his lips ghosting over hers as the newfound moment became sweet, tender. “Can I kiss you?”

The sudden ring of his phone snatched them out of their trance, Deborah’s lungs inhaling sharply after what felt like hours. The two of them separated, her cheeks feeling warmer than normal as she watched him look at the screen with what she could only call annoyance.

The device was vibrating in his hand, but he looked like he was contemplating on whether picking up the call or not. The screen read ‘Dad’, and the grimace on his face was what made Debby’s heart clench.

“You should take it,” the words left her mouth before she could even stop them.

“I probably should,” was all he mumbled, sending her a quick look before letting his eyes focus back on the device. Just as he swiped right, Debby pushed herself to the tip of her toes, pressing a swift, lingering kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight, Matthew,”

As she made her way up the stairs and towards her room, Deborah let her cold fingertips graze the spot where his hand had rested, right on her cheek. She felt like a teenager in love again, a frustrated one, though.

Though they had almost had their first kiss together twice, something had always been in the way. First Noah, then Matthew’s father. Why was everyone keeping her from kissing him?

She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him again and let their lips meet, but the universe had been thinking otherwise for what felt like ages. As Debby sat on her bed - still too happy to give up on all the newfound emotions -, she wondered what his lips would taste like, what it would feel like to be his.

After another moment of thinking, she forgot about everyone and everything and rushed down the stairs. The first floor was empty, but the lights in the basement were still casting shade over the stairs, inviting her to step closer.

As she rushed down that smaller flight of stairs too, Debby wondered if it was the right time to do it. To finally live her life a little. She swung the door open, Matthew’s light eyes rushing up from his dark phone screen to her face, a look of shock evident in them.

He sprung to his feet and caught her right before she could fall in his arms. She took a second to wrap her arms around his neck, letting their lips meet in the sweetest kiss she’d ever experienced.

His lips felt softer than clouds, so gentle against hers she thought she could faint; his arms - tight around her waist - were keeping Deborah close to his body, their warmth familiar. Everything about the moment was perfect, from the way their bodies fit together, to the way she started to struggle for breath.

They parted ways just when they couldn’t take it anymore, their foreheads meeting tenderly as they caught their breaths. “Wow,” the breathed exclamation made Debby giggle, Matthew’s plush lips painting with a smile as he admired her. “That was-”

“That was fucking awesome,” she finished his line, giggling at how childish she sounded. With a shake of her head, she let herself untangle from him, her body missing his warmth. “I uh- I probably should go to sleep,”

Deborah’s gaze was stuck on her feet, rising to meet his eyes just when his thumb and pointer finger lifted up her chin. There was a second before he leaned down to give the woman one last sweet kiss, his lips tenderly moving against hers before parting again.

“Good night, Debby,”

-

Deborah wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself as she leaned on the railing of the balcony overlooking her garden, watching the sunset longingly. The silence surrounding her was peaceful, and she felt relaxed, happy to be free for one last day.

“You’re gonna catch a cold, again,”

Debby turned around to face Matthew with a smile on her lips, jokingly rolling her eyes as he wrapped an arm around her. “I’m pretty sure colds don’t work like that,”

He chuckled, turning around to face the setting sun too. A feeling of déjà vu sent shivers down the woman’s spine, even if she knew that it wasn’t just a sensation: her and Matthew had experienced the sunset together before, it wasn’t just a feeling.

“Thank you for letting me come along,” he mumbled, a hand soothingly playing with her hair as he looked at the sky. “Your family is great,”

His words held a small hint of sadness, so subtle yet present enough to let Debby catch onto it. A part of her wanted to know what caused this sadness every time someone’s family was mentioned, the other wanted to let him take his time, talk about it whenever he was ready.

She had never been too patient in her entire life: as a kid, she’d stay awake during Christmas Eve’s night just to wake up as soon as the sun rose to open presents; as a teenager, she felt frustrated whenever she’d have to wait months to see her favorite artists in concerts. It was something she had always hated, but was never able to control.

For Matthew, though, Deborah was willing to wait.

“You know, I haven’t really had a Thanksgiving like this ever since I was sixteen,” he admitted, voice taking a gravelly tone as he avoided her eyes. “Ever since uh- the band grew famous, I guess,”

Debby watched his features take a bitter tone as he kept his gaze focused on the orange landscape. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t feel like it, Matt,”

“Someone needs to know,” he sighed, shrugging gingerly before glancing her way. “The guys know I’m not close with my family, but they don’t know why. I trust you, and I want you to know,”

Panic set Deborah’s body on fire as she realized she was the first person to know about his family situation. He trusted her.

“My dad played hockey professionally for almost twenty years, it was in my blood to follow after his footsteps,” he started, interrupting her inner panicked conversation. “I was on skates before I could even walk, had a stick in my hand before I learned how to write, skated behind a puck before I even made friends. He thought it was in my blood.

“But, fuck, when I first saw a drum set at the age of five and heard my first rock song a few days later, I couldn’t care less about hockey and what my dad wanted. I started playing at a friend’s house: his sister owned a drum kit and let me use it twice a week, and music made me happy in a way hockey couldn’t,” Matthew admitted. “I played behind everyone’s backs just so they wouldn’t get disappointed in me. I’d go to hockey practice and work my ass off to make my father happy, then I’d get on my bike and ride to my friend’s neighborhood to play the drums.

“I took music during High School, and my teacher saw me play. He wanted me to join the school’s band, but I needed my parents’ signatures for that, and I didn’t want them to know. Eventually, he accidentally told them I should have pursued my dreams and that night was a fucking mess,” he sighed. “My mom, she- she didn’t mind, she was proud of me. She was happy I was doing what I really wanted to do, even if it was behind their backs. My dad, on the other hand, was pissed that his firstborn son wasn’t following his father’s footsteps. He had never been one for music,”

Debby let one of her hands slip into his, squeezing his palm gently to send him a non-verbal message of comfort. He was safe to speak, with her. “You know, I was his pride and joy growing up. He saw me playing ever since I was a child, and when he lost all hope in me when he learned about me playing the drums, it hurt. He loves my brother and sister because they do what he did, my brother even plays professionally like his old man. I was the disappointment of the family, in his eyes.

“I barely even remember how Chordback got together, but we got famous quickly, and I moved out as soon as possible. I wanted to enjoy my life without being under his disappointed glares, you know?” He sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Now I barely go home, and my mom hates it,”

There was a moment of silence as Deborah took in his story, shock filling her body as she breathed out shakily. “Matthew, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be,” he chuckled, shrugging as he let his eyes meet hers. “Mine isn’t a sob story,”

“So, he called?” She asked, remembering Matthew’s father had called a few nights prior.

“He wished me a happy Thanksgiving. Mumbled the usual bullshit about the fact that they miss me, that I should go home to at least see my mother,” he sighed. “Same stuff Taryn said over the phone a few months ago,”

Debby bit her lip, watching his tense body as he ran a hand through his hair. She didn’t know what to say. She had never expected him to have a story like that: he always looked fine, not a worry in his eyes as he went along with the flow. Yet, so much was hidden behind the barrier that kept the world away from his fragile heart.

Debby did the only thing that seemed to make sense in her mind, which was wrap him in a hug. He didn’t reciprocate the embrace for a second, but when his arms wrapped around her waist and his head dropped to the crook of her neck, she knew he needed it.

He needed someone to stabilize him for a second, to silently tell him everything was going to be alright, even if he felt like life was not okay.

She held him until he let go of her, because she remembered her grandma’s words: you never know how much someone needs a hug, so don’t let go until they do.

And by the time the two of them went back to watch the sunset, the future looked clearer.

-----

Life went back in full swing the moment Debby set foot in Calgary, Matthew by her side. Her phone rang with a call from Jean when the two of them went to pick up their bags at the airport, and the overwhelming nerves that came with working in the music industry made their way back in her system.

Days went by before she knew it, her head living in a limbo where all that mattered was her job. And Matthew.

Thanksgiving night couldn’t leave Debby’s head, and she didn’t want it to. She found herself thinking about it at night, alone in her cold bed as she begged for some rest, but her mind always thought otherwise.

Seeing Matt at work wasn’t easy either: her hands tingled, wanting to touch him; her lips begged to be kissed again, and she couldn’t just take it anymore. Staying away from him was what she was bound to do with her job, but all she wanted was to be his.

But it almost seemed like he didn’t reciprocate the feeling. There was distance, a lack of communication that was needed between the two of them. How could she figure out what the two of them were, if he didn’t talk to her? That was what Debby kept asking herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar hand on her shoulder, Noah’s eyes the first thing Deborah saw after daydreaming. “We’re boarding,”

“Alright,” she nodded her head, inhaling sharply before rolling her suitcase behind herself. The band was headed to New York again, and her and Jean were coming along for the ride, as per usual.

Growing up, traveling was something Debby had always wished to do, especially when she had reached her teen years. Taking the opportunity to become Chordback’s PA meant that she would have been traveling non-stop, and she had been ecstatic when she landed the job.

Looking back at it, Deborah’s happiness was still there, and saying she loved her job was an understatement. Did she wish for a break every once in a while - even from traveling? Yes, but the music industry never went to sleep.

Debby followed the band towards the plane, her eyes focusing on the sunny sky until the back of a familiar hand ghosted over hers. She looked up to see Matthew’s side profile, a trail of warmth filling her chest when his skin brushed hers, the sleeves of their coats hiding the motions from everyone else surrounding them.

Shivers rushed down her spine as the cold wind pushed her hair out of her face and, eventually, Matthew left her side, her high hopes of seeing any kind of emotion from him slowly lowering. Debby walked up the few small stairs that led inside the jet, shock stopping her right on the last step.

The woman that was greeting the team was smiling widely, her brunette hair pulled into a tight bun as she sported the sharpest uniform Debby had ever seen. She looked beautiful, confidence spilling out of her body as she shook the personal assistant’s hand.

“I’ll be your new pilot,”

A smile broke out on Deborah’s face, so wide she was scared it might get stuck there. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,”

By the time she reached her spot next to Jean, she felt quite confused, though. Why had the pilot been fired? Debby was sure nobody had caught onto the way he had been acting with her and how uncomfortable he had her feeling, so why was he gone?

Jean seemed to read her mind. “Matthew fired the old pilot right before Thanksgiving,” she whispered as she touched up her signature red lipstick. “He said the guy was a perv to the flight assistants,”

Deborah nodded her head along, eyes meeting with Matthew’s. She knew he had been listening to her conversation with Jean all along by the smug look on his face. “Yeah Jean, I also beat him up. Just thought you should know,”

The lipstick in her hand almost fell to the floor, a smudge of red painting the corner of her mouth as her eyes widened. “You what?!”

“I gave him his last paycheck to make him keep his mouth shut, don’t worry,”

“Matthew, that’s even worse!” She screeched, hands shaking as she searched through her purse to find her phone. “Oh my God-”

“The guy deserved it, Jean,” Matthew continued, voice becoming serious. “He was harassing the assistants and- and Deborah,”

The attention inside the plane shifted towards the woman in question, her heart beating out of her chest as an infinite amount of questions rushed through her mind. How did he notice? Had it been that obvious?

“Debby, is it true?” Jean said in a whisper, shock evident in her voice as her eyes stayed on the assistant’s features.

“I-I mean,” she stuttered, shrugging slightly. “It wasn’t anything too big, but it sure was creepy,”

“You could have told me sooner,” the manager said, her warm hand resting on Deborah’s forearm in a reassuring manner. “I would have tried to fire him as soon as possible,”

Debby gave her another shrug before shutting up, not wanting to discuss the matter any further. She felt embarrassed enough to let a man do that to her and not react, but when Matthew - the man she had more than a crush on - found out about the entire situation? She had never been more embarrassed.

She popped her earbuds in and watched the land fly past her from her window, hoping that everyone would forget about the matter by the time they landed. It wasn’t the case, though.

It was almost night by the time the band arrived in New York, to say Debby was more than tired to reciprocate the kind smiles coming from the hotel clerks was an understatement. Her room card was handed to her after just a few minutes, and the thought of crashing on a bed almost had her yawning.

Matthew walked past her, sending a small smile her way before the doors of his elevator closed. She had been successful at blocking any thought regarding the flight, but the questions still kept her curious, even in her tired state.

Deborah headed towards her room, catching one last glimpse of the drummer disappearing behind her neighboring door. She blew out a sigh, getting inside her room and letting her suitcase fall to the floor, ready to slip into comfortable clothing and get in bed.

With the covers up to her chin, though, her eyes just couldn’t close. Debby found herself staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city still awake at the ungodly hour, just like her.

As pathetic as it sounded, she wanted nothing more than to know how Matthew had found out, or even why he had taken it upon himself to fire the pilot. Why had he been so selfless?

The questions kept her awake, and all she wanted was just to sleep. She knew, though, that her body wouldn’t rest until her mind shut down, too.

She pushed the covers away, slipping a pair of slippers on and leaving the room sluggishly, eyes tired. As Deborah stopped in front of Matthew’s door, she felt suddenly awake. Nerves started to make her anxious, and she had to push herself to knock before she could rush back to her room with her tail between her legs.

There was a second before the door opened, Matthew looking quite tired too as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “Deb?”

“How did you find out?”

From the look on his face, Debby knew she didn’t need to elaborate her words, to explain what she really wanted to know.

“Come in,” was all he mumbled, opening the door wider for her. She followed his instruction, entering the room that looked the exact copy of hers before sitting down on the corner of his bed.

There was a moment of silence as he stood in front of her, tattooed arms folding over his chest as he bit his bottom lip. For a second, Deborah’s body lit up on fire, craving to feel his lips pressing against hers. She came back to reality and cooled down when she remembered why she was in his room. She needed answers.

“I uh- I noticed you always disassociated when we boarded the plane,” Matthew started, the look on his face turning serious when his eyes met with hers. “And at first I thought you were just scared of heights or something, but it didn’t make any sense,

“Then the other week I boarded the plane behind you and that motherfucker started hitting on you,” his voice became darker, a hint of protectiveness in his tone Debby had never found before making her hands tremble. “And it was clear you weren’t reciprocating,”

“You didn’t need to do that for me, you know?”

“I wanted to,” he admitted. “I couldn’t stand seeing you like that. I have a sister, and I wouldn’t be able to be at peace with myself if I knew something like that was happening to her and didn’t do anything to keep her safe, and same applies to you,”

Deborah tried not to acknowledge the warmth inside her chest as her eyes fell to her lap, a sigh leaving her lips. “It wasn’t worth it, Matthew. If people find out you hurt him, there will be chaos,”

“Everything I do for you is worth it, Debby,” he whispered, pushing her chin upwards so their eyes could meet, his orbs laced with fondness. “Even if it means I’ll have to punch a perv and ruin my career. Why can’t you understand that?”

The woman shook her head, repressing a small smile before sighing again.

“I need you to be safe, Deborah,” he whispered, voice as tender as a cloud as he spoke to her. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you without me even noticing,”

The words had tears well up in her eyes, but she fought the urge to let them streak down her face. Nobody had ever cared that much about her, and she felt full of something she couldn’t quite place. Love? Fondness?

“Promise me you’ll stay safe,” he asked, voice shallow as he cupped her cheek.

“I promise,”

His body inched closer to hers, the only thing separating the two of them being a thin layer of air. His lips fell on Deborah’s after a second, sweetly carefree as she got lost in his scent, his presence.

He was kissing her. She felt more than confused from all the times she felt like he had been avoiding her, but he was kissing her, and she ignored any red flag she could have possibly thought about.

Debby wished to never let go, but her body reminded her that she was more than tired by making her legs give out on her, her embarrassed laugh ending the kiss. “I’m uh- I’m exhausted from today, I should probably go to sleep,”

Matthew nodded, a silent smile painting his slightly swollen lips as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course you will,”

-----

Tomorrow was quite eventful, though. Deborah woke up late, the sound of her alarm not being loud enough to wake her from her deep slumber; she stumbled around her room to get dressed up, sending a quick text to the band to tell them she was going to be late to breakfast, receiving a string of messages explaining they were going to wait for her.

When she left her room, Debby was still half asleep. She registered the voices of the guys, and she registered Matthew’s soft smile, but she went on autopilot when she followed the boys towards the breakfast spot.

Her rough, real awakening happened in front of the café, where an unfamiliar girl was waiting for them - or, at least, Noah. She was tall, hair a beautiful shade of blond as a breathtaking smile painted her lips, directed to Noah and Noah only. It looked like she only had eyes for him, and from the way the lead didn’t shy away from her attention, Debby realized who she really was. Aleena.

There was a brief moment where they hugged, sharing a laugh as Noah bent down to press a kiss on her cheek before turning around to face Deborah and the rest of the band. As the assistant looked around in pure shock, she noticed that Johnny, Matthew and Elias all shared her same expression.

“Guys, this is Aleena,” Noah said, holding back laughter at the looks on their faces. “She’ll be joining us for breakfast, I hope this isn’t a problem,”

“Uh, no! Not at all!” Debby exclaimed, pushing herself out of her trance to shake the girl’s hand. “I’m Deborah, the band’s personal assistant,”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Aleena said, a gentle smile on her lips. The few minutes that followed the encounter were spent with introductions, a thin layer of shock still coating the air as everyone got inside the café to place their orders.

“Damn,” Matthew whispered from behind Debby, chuckling as they queued behind other people. “I wasn’t expecting him to introduce her this soon,”

“Me neither,” the assistant admitted, looking at him with a smile. “She’s nice, though,”

He nodded, agreeing with her as she moved forward, repeating her order in her head. “You think they’re going public?” Deborah asked, checking her phone for the time before looking back up, waiting for an answer.

“I think Jean is in the dark about this as much as we were,” Matt mumbled, letting his hands rest on her shoulders subconsciously, her heart skipping a beat at his touch. “So I think he has to tell her first,”

Debby nodded her head, a smile forming on her lips when she came face-to-face with the barista. She placed her order calmly, reaching for her wallet when the moment to pay arrived.

“I’ve got it,”

Matthew placed his order and paid for the both of them, not even giving the assistant enough time to fight and pay for her own stuff. “Well, thank you, then,” she said, jokingly rolling her eyes as they grabbed their drink and headed for their table, the drummer sitting next to her after a few seconds.

He had talked to her, paid for her drink, touched her shoulder. At that point, Debby was asking herself where they really were standing. There were moments when she felt like a stranger to him, when he barely even sent a smile her way; other times - mostly behind closed doors -, it felt like she was his, but just when it was needed, not always.

The empty table became quite crowded after everyone sat down with their breakfast. “So, new album and tour this year, boys,” Elias smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. “Missed that shit,”

“Album drops in a month, so you’ve still got some time to put some final touches,” Deborah pointed out. “Then tour is in a couple of months,”

A few nods came from around the table, her eyes settling on Aleena as she silently sipped on what Deborah could only guess was a latte. “Are you coming along, Aleena?”

The new addition seemed to be shocked by Debby’s question, almost choking on her drink as she opened her mouth to speak. “I uh- we haven’t really talked about it, yet,” she said, looking up at Noah with so much admiration it made the assistant’s heart clench.

Debby nodded, smiling her way before sipping her drink, a hint of jealousy of what the couple had sending shivers down her spine. Breakfast went faster than she had expected as she found herself talking to Noah’s girlfriend with the group and enjoying her company, and by the time they left the place, Deborah was sad to leave Aleena behind.

The band needed to get to the studio to discuss the upcoming release and tour, though, and the group and Aleena had to part ways.

“I think we should celebrate,” Elias pointed out, leaning on his chair with his arm behind his head. “Have a few drinks, go to a club,”

“We haven’t even released the news, Elias,” Jean sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Why not, though? We could just have a party before everything gets released, just us,”

Jean spit out a laugh at the ‘just us’, making the guitarist scowl jokingly. “Back to the album. It’s done, then?”

“Almost,” Noah corrected. “We could pull an all-nighter tonight and just finish it,”

Matthew nodded, followed by Johnny and Elias. Everything seemed to be on board, and Deborah felt happy. The band was back to normal: the fights had come to a halt, they were about to release their newest - and best, by far - album, and they were going on tour again.

One thing was holding back her happiness, though, and it was confusion.

What the hell was happening with Matthew?

The walk from the café to the studio had been enough to send her in a spiral of thoughts, finally realizing that what was going on between the two of them wasn’t quite right. For some reason, she wanted nothing more but to know where she stood in his life, if she mattered or if she was just another groupie.

Bitterness filled her mouth as she found him staring, embarrassment making her feel numb. It had taken her so long to realize that he was playing a game, and she felt stupid.

Debby lifted herself up from her chair, grabbing her purse. “I’ll head out to take a breather,”

And when he didn’t even spare her a glance, she knew she needed to figure out what was really happening between the two of them.

Deborah wasn’t another fucking groupie, that she was sure of.

-

“Alright, we’re almost done, guys,” Noah mumbled, eyes cast on the laptop sitting in front of him as Johnny stood behind him, arms folded over his chest.

“Final touches?” Elias popped from the bathroom, still drying his hands with a paper towel.

“Yeah,” Matt murmured. The drummer was sitting on the couch right in front of Deborah’s, a look she couldn’t quite read painting his features.

The all-nighter the guys had pulled had been going on for hours, and she was quite tired. The moon was peeking over a thick set of curtains, wishing to get her attention by painting a white streak inside the studio. Her head was pounding, but she wanted to assist to the start of Chordback’s new era. Sleep wasn’t on her schedule, at least until the band finally was done.

The late hour was taking a toll on everyone, but even through their almost bloodshot eyes, Debby could tell the guys were more awake than they had ever been. The air felt exciting, and she felt like she had nothing to lose.

“And we’re done,”

Noah’s words had the entire room in silence, even the rustling of the wind outside came to a halt when he spoke. Debby’s heart raced, a smile forming on her lips as she looked up at the lead, nothing but respect in her eyes.

“Holy fucking shit-” Elias whisper-yelled, running a hand through his messy hair before breaking the silence with a shocked laugh. “Holy shit-”

“We’re done!” Johnny exclaimed, his voice louder than his bandmate’s.

“Fuck yes,” Matthew smirked, throwing a fist in the air in celebration before pulling Noah in a hug. “We did it, man,”

Deborah congratulated the boys, hugging each one of them like a proud little sister before she got to Matthew, her heart clenching. Where the hell did she stand? “Good job, Matt,” she smiled awkwardly, leaning in to give him a quick side hug.

“Deb-”

“Should we pop a bottle open?” Elias asked, his frame hunched over the minibar. When he rose back to his full height, he was holding a bottle of champagne, his familiar smirk keeping the left corner of his mouth up.

“Hell yes!” Noah chuckled, looking around to find some flutes only to find himself helpless: there weren’t glasses to celebrate with. Debby didn’t need him to even send a glance her way, her hands already gathering her stuff.

“Debby, can we-”

“I’ll go get someone for you,” she said to the lead, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I was heading out anyway,”

“Already? Darling, this is the best part and you’re leaving,” Elias said, voice holding the flirty tone that she knew he couldn’t even control.

“I’m sure we can celebrate when the dates will be released,” Deborah winked his way, opening the door and stopping right before she could walk inside the fancy hallway. She turned around, facing all of them before pointing a finger their way. “Don’t do anything stupid,”

“Yes, ma’am,” was the only answer she could hear as she stepped out of the room, reaching the closest desk where Maria - the kind receptionist she grew to be friends with - was smiling, not a trace of tiredness in her dark eyes.

“Maria, can you please send some flutes to Chordback’s studio?” She asked, slipping her coat on just as some footsteps started to sound behind her. “They just finished their album,”

“Of course. Heading out?”

“Yes,” she sighed, stopping in her tracks just when she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

“Deborah, wait,”

Matthew was rushing down the hallway, hair stuck in an unusual nest as he sported a confused look. Another sigh left Debby’s lips, her eyelids closing as she turned around to face him. “What, Matthew?”

“What’s up with you? Did I do something wrong?”

“What do you mean what’s up with me?”

“You’ve been acting weird, today,” he pointed out. “You were okay this morning, and then you gave me the cold shoulder the entire day. Really, what the hell have I done?”

“What the fuck are we doing, Matt?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he received a question, instead of an answer. His mouth opened but closed again, only to leave the woman with silence. She took it upon herself to keep the conversation going. “Because our points of view are clearly not the same,”

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?”

The pet name made Deborah flinch, her heart doing a forbidden cartwheel as she cursed herself for even feeling that way during an argument. “I’m talking about the fact that we kissed on Thanksgiving, you protected me from that fucking asshole of a pilot, asked me to promise to be safe, and I still don’t know whether you want this to happen or not!” The words came out louder than she had expected, but she didn’t care. She was exasperated and she needed to know. “And, for God’s sake, don’t call me sweetheart,”

Deborah was faced with another moment of silence, Matthew’s face taking an expression she couldn’t quite read. She had never heard silence that loud, and his lack of words was enough to answer every single question of hers.

“I don’t have time for your silence, I’m heading out,” Debby spat out, clutching her bag closer before muttering her next words. “I’ll see you tomorrow,”

When she had first thought about confronting Matthew, she thought it wasn’t going to affect her. But by the time she left the tall skyscraper, remembering the conversation the two of them had had on its top at sunset, she couldn’t tell if the wetness on her face was formed by the rain or the tears.

She felt empty, even if the argument was for the best. She had done nothing to deserve to get played by a man like Matthew - rich, with nothing to lose - and she knew her worth. But God, did it hurt.

Deborah’s hopes had been over the roof from the start, but he had just led her on, like men like him do with groupies. He needed to figure out what he felt and where he wanted things to go, because she already knew where she stood about that.

Noah and Aleena were happy, so happy. They looked like they were fitted perfectly for each other. Naively, she had thought she and Matthew could have been the same.

But clearly, a happy ending in her love life still wasn’t planned.

-----

“Okay, so Rolling Stones interview on the fifth?” She asked Jean, eyes stuck on her laptop as she scrolled through Chordback’s schedule. “The day after the album release? Wow,”

“Yeah, they were begging us to be the first ones to get an interview,” Jean sighed, sipping on her coffee before looking down at her own papers. “Then we have a few more interviews,”

“And all the radio interviews during-”

“Flowers for Deborah?”

The words had the assistant frowning in confusion, her eyes turning up to see a delivery man standing on the doorway of the meeting room. He held a large bouquet of flowers, the composition looking lovely even from the distance.

Debby rose from her chair with uncertainty clear in her features, grabbing the bouquet from his larger hands. “You sure it’s for Deborah? I haven’t received flowers ever since graduation,”

The man chuckled, the smile not quite reaching his eyes as he checked his watch, probably in a rush. “100% sure. Have a nice day, ma’am,”

He was out of eyesight before she could even thank him - or ask him to check again -, her eyes focusing on the gift in her hands as the room filled with silence. Who the hell could have sent her flowers? A small whistle brought the woman back to reality, making her turn around to face Jean. “Secret admirer?”

Was it her ex? “I didn’t even know I had one,”

Deborah’s fingers caressed the delicate petals until something sharp came in contact with her skin. The small piece of paper was looking up at her as if it was begging to be read, her heart hammering as she let her fingertips graze over it.

I know this isn’t much, but it is the start. - M

“Oh my God,” she muttered under your breath, sighing loudly. Matthew?

And he didn’t lie in the note: with each and every passing day, gifts were waiting for Debby at her hotel door, at the recording label, even in her bathroom. She had received multiple bouquets of flowers, a cute tote bag she had seen on a specific Etsy store and mumbled about for weeks, skincare products she still was missing, and what the hell?

Every single present was paired with a message written in Matthew’s chicken scratch, his words meaningful even through paper, and what the fuck was happening?!

Jean would strangle out a laugh every time she’d see a new gift waiting for Deborah, muttering about the fact that not even her ex-husband was as passionate about forgiveness after cheating as Matthew was. Though she looked completely fine on the outside, Debby didn’t know how to feel.

In some ways, she felt childish for even arguing with him: he was a busy man, he didn’t have time for relationships. At the same time, though, she felt like she deserved more than to be played like a game, like she was nothing more than a stranger to him.

Certainly, getting spoiled by the man she almost yelled at really didn’t help with making Deborah feel like what she did was right, especially since it looked like he was trying his everything to get one last chance.

“Are you ever going to forgive this poor secret admirer?” Jean asked, eyes not even leaving her paper as Debby sat in front of her, miserably looking at the pins she had just received. The pastel-colored items she had liked on Instagram just a few days prior felt cold in the assistant’s hands, and it wasn’t the first time she’d started questioning her life choices. “He looks like he’s desperately trying to win you back,”

“And he is,” Deborah sighed, burying her face in her hands before looking up at the ceiling. “I feel like it was stupid of me to start a fight, you know?”

“Why don’t you just talk to him, then?” In some ways, the assistant was thankful Jean didn’t know Matthew was the main character of the conversation.

“Because I’m scared he’ll hate me,”

The woman laughed loudly, making Deborah turn as small as an ant right in front of her. “Open your eyes, will you, girl? The man is whipped. A man who doesn’t know a woman’s worth wouldn’t chase or wait for her,”

Her words engraved themselves in Debby’s mind, their truth so candid she couldn’t even question it. She remembered what her grandma had told her after her first big heartbreak: there’s plenty of fish in the sea, but Deborah knew her gran’s advice wouldn’t apply with Matthew’s situation.

“I just- I don’t know what to do,”

“Has he been good to you? Has he treated you well?” Jean asked, her eyes boring into Debby’s when she nodded her head. “Then don’t think and do whatever your heart tells you to do,”

The assistant watched her for a swift second, lifting herself up from her chair and grabbing her purse. “I’m heading off,”

“Use protection!” Jean yelled behind her, a laugh leaving her lips before she mumbled under her breath. “God, when did I start being so poetic?”

With her heart hammering against her rib cage, Debby rushed through the busy streets of New York, meeting Matthew being the only thought on her mind. To her luck, the hotel the band was staying in was not too far away from their studio, and by the time she opened her room door to get rid of her coat, she wasn’t too exhausted.

She was confused, though. Sitting right under her feet was a piece of paper, the writing so familiar. She grabbed it from the floor, skimming through the words before realization struck her like lightning.

It was a song.

Matthew had written her a song.

Tears welled up in Deborah’s eyes as she read, hands shaking as she bit her lip. She couldn’t let him go.

It was a love song, the words so gentle and heart-clenching. Admiration, love, and passion were spilling out of them in waves Deborah wasn’t ready to let go of yet, so she read it another time. And then another, and another, and another.

She walked out of the room with tears streaming down her face - not caring if other guests saw her in the meantime - still holding the notebook page in her hand. As she faced his door, something inside her seemed to turn on: nervousness.

What if he wasn’t at the hotel? What if her silence had made him give up?

All her questions got an answer when Matthew opened the door, a tired look on his face. His hair was a mess, and he didn’t look like his normal self, like Matthew.

“Deborah?”

“You wrote me a song?”

The drummer sighed, opening the door wider to let the woman in. “I uh- I started writing it a few months ago, when everything started, you know-”

His room was dark, but Debby could make out his half-packed suitcase, his clothes sitting messily all over the floor. The thought made its way in her head, but it seemed so out of character for Matthew that she couldn’t even believe it was real. The whole conversation about the song dropped. “You- are you leaving?”

“I have no reason to stay here,” he sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair before slightly cleaning up. “Album is done, and we have a few weeks before our first interview. Also, I kind of grasped the two of us are actually done, so I really didn’t have a purpose here,”

His lonely words had Deborah’s heart clenching, her smaller hand clutching his as she turned around to face him. “I love you,” she breathed out shakily, the three-worded sentence she had been thinking about for months finally slipping out of her parted lips. “I love you so much, and I fucked up,”

Matthew looked shocked as he took in her words, eyes slowly widening. “Deb-”

“I know it’s too soon, you don’t have to say it back, but I felt like you should have known,” she said, breathing out a sigh of relief as a weight she didn’t know she was holding was pushed off her shoulders. “You’re a busy man, relationships probably aren’t what you want at the moment, and it wasn’t my place to get pissed off,”

“I love you, Deborah,” he admitted. “I wasn’t kidding when I said that loving you was easier than I had expected,”

Another set of tears had her eyes burning, her hand intertwining with his as she looked up at him. “I’ve never been good with words, or emotions, and that’s why there was miscommunication between us,”

“Fuck-” Deborah closed her eyes, guilt rushing through her. “I’m fucking awful, this is all my fault,”

“Hey, it was bound to happen, at some point. To be honest, I probably should have made it clear that I loved you a long time ago, I don’t know what was holding me back,” Matthew said, gently cradling her face. “But we’re here now, and we’re fine,”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, emotions spilling from her words as she watched him through her teary gaze. “I’m so sorry,”

“I don’t want you to be,” he murmured back, letting his thumbs brush a few tears away. There was a beat as his warm breath fanned over her features, her eyes focusing on his stormy ones as silence settled between them. She was in his arms, the two of them were okay. “Debby?”

“Hm?”

“I want the world to know how much you mean to me,” he whispered in her ear, his voice sending shivers down her spine. “I want to make you mine,”

“Say the words, Matt,” Deborah murmured, arms wrapping around his neck as her lips ghosted his. “Say the words and I’ll be yours,”

There was a beat, a long one, before Matthew let his lips brush hers in a gentle - but desperate - kiss. The drummer’s hands were everywhere as the two of them kissed, not a worry in the world as her back hit the soft comforter of the room’s bed.

“Be mine, Deborah,” Matthew breathed out when his lips left hers, his orbs maintaining eye contact. “I’ll find a way to give you my world,”

She bit her lip, smiling as she watched the man in front of her - the man she loved - offer her his love with just the power of his words.

“You already do, Matt,” Debby whispered, bringing him closer to press another kiss to his slightly-swollen lips. “I’m yours,”

-----

“Why the fuck am I nervous? I’m not even going on stage,” Deborah mumbled, words coming out rushed as she stood outside the green room with Aleena, her friend’s laughter filling her ears.

“They’ve been doing this for years, hun. They’re probably not even nervous themselves,” Noah’s girlfriend said, voice gentle as her arm wrapped around Debby’s. “And we both know they’re going to kill it,”

“That’s true,” the personal assistant nodded her head, taking a sip of her water just as the door of the room opened, Chordback coming out looking as mesmerizing as ever. They were a mess of tattoos and pearly white smiles, ready to take on the first stage of the tour and make the crowd go wild.

Noah, in his old-school-love fashion, wrapped Aleena in his arms, owning a little squeal as he lifted her off the floor. “Put me down, idiot!”

Elias and Johnny, too busy talking to each other about their improvised solos, didn’t even glance Deborah’s way, heading towards the stage by following the staff. Matthew, on the other hand, took a moment to let his eyes focus on his girl.

“You look beautiful,” he said, voice low as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Debby’s sundress clung to her body the way she knew he loved, and the smile on his face was enough to make the butterflies in her stomach start their never-ending dance.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” she giggled, taking his hand and leading him towards the side of the stage, where everyone was standing. The other band that was opening the concert was still going strong, the crowd enjoying the background music as they waited for Chordback to start their tour with a bang.

The last few notes of a song she had heard many times before owned claps and screams from the public, a few whistles also shaking the arena. Debby stood next to Aleena as she smiled, the feeling of hearing the public again making the assistant’s legs almost give up on her.

She had started her job when the band was already almost at the end of their second tour, and it had been a chaotic way to start her first job in the music industry. She hadn’t been able to get to know the band members, and she hadn’t been able to enjoy even a bit of traveling.

That time, though, it was different. She was there as Chordback’s personal assistant, but also as Matthew’s girlfriend. The experience itself was going to be new, unexpected.

“Good luck,” she told Matt just as the opening band started to leave the stage. Debby leaned up on the tip of her toes, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I don’t need that,” he smirked, winking down at her before kissing her again, this time passionately. “I already have my lucky charm with me,”

Deborah shook her head, pushing out a giggle as he backed off, tugging the drumsticks from his back pocket. “Cheesy, Matthew,”

“What do you expect from me?”

As the stage grew dark, the band entered the stage, filling their designed spots just as a few yells and cheers filled the air. The first sound came from Matthew’s drumsticks, and the place lit up as the opening song started, the song that had brought the newest album to the top of the charts: Aleena’s song.

Matthew smiled Deborah’s way gingerly as he started to play, her heart skipping a beat. As she watched him play, she couldn’t exactly tell why all the fondness inside her body seemed to come out just then. It felt strange.

Though after a few moments of wondering, she realized what it really was. Proudness. Deborah was proud of the little kid that snuck out of the house to practice the drums in a house five blocks away, she was proud of the teenager that followed his dreams even when his father was disappointed in him. She was proud of Matthew and the man he had become.

She was proud of him, and she loved him, more than she loved herself.

Matthew was her home, her safe place. He was a part of the life she was hoping to bring along in the future, and he was the person she wanted to wake up next to every morning.

Back at her childhood home during Thanksgiving, he had said that loving her was easier than he had expected.

He hadn’t realized, though, that loving him was the easiest part of Deborah’s life. A part that she was willing to carry with her for the rest of her life.

Taglist: @thirstyybitch​ @bellaguarneri​ @boqvistsbabe​ @trashforbarzal​ @tonguetiedstan​ @keithseabrook27​ @heatherawoowoo​ @tysonsjosty​ ​

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl x reader #calgary flames #hockey imagine

[doyumacy]

𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘 — １ 

summary:  how did you get herself into this? It all started with a flirtatious smile, an adrenaline rush and a blowjob. you never thought giving taeyong a blowjob in the backseat of his car would put your world upside down.  now, almost 2 years later, you moved into your new condo with your two boyfriends, who also happened to be two successful businessmen. everything seemed to be going alright, until they weren't.

warnings: 「dotae x reader, smut (threesome, unprotected sex; anal sex, oral sex f. receiving), polyamorous relationship, swearing, angst, mentions of blood, accidents, death threats 」

word count: 「 6K 」

Hello everyone!! I’m not quite sure how many parts will this fic have because I'm still currently working on it, but I hope y'all enjoy it <3. Also, I’d like to apologize for any grammar mistakes since English isn't my first language.

TWO

Your advice on keeping two businessmen content in a polyamorous relationship are:

They should be friends. Men normally don't care enough for each other enough to share a woman between them. This is why it’s good that they are already friends... or boyfriends. Taeyong and Doyoung were already dating when you first met them.

Don't neglect the socially stable one who can function long periods of time by himself for the one who needs constant supervision and guidance. Yes, Taeyong can't spend hours with people around him while Doyoung can spend days talking to people. And sometimes, you think it is exhausting talking to people for too long.

Be sensitive to their differences. Doyoung hates cheesy stuff while Taeyong lives for them. He loves sending you flowers, chocolates, taking you shopping, hugging you… It’s not like Doyoung doesn’t show you affection, he’s more private but he won’t hesitate to hold your hand or peck you in public once in a while so people can know you’re his. And maybe once in a while he will send you flowers to your office.

Sex. Yes, the idea of two beautiful men in your bed every night just does it for you. Doyoung has one special rule and is that you and Taeyong can't have sex if he's not there. And if applies to him as well, you can’t have sex with him if Taeyong isn’t there.

Roles. Doyoung is -most of the time- the dominant, while Taeyong tends to have his days as the dominant or the submissive. And you never change. You are their willing submissive that will do everything and get them pleased.

“So, I think this is the last of them,” Taeyong mutters through a strained grunt, stacking three more carefully packed boxes of your belongings by the loft door. “Whew!” He stands in the entry way with his hands on his hips, staring at the haul ready to go downstairs to the moving van, double-parked by the curb.

You smiled at him. "Thanks for coming and helping me." You gave him a peck.

"It's nothing," he kissed you back.

“What have you got there?” Taeyong asks, walking over and sitting on the arm opposite you to witness the way your face lights up with each reveal, your smile brightening with some costumes.

“These are all the costumes I’ve ever worn for every performance I did when I worked at Disneyland,” You explain.

“I didn’t know they let you keep them.” Taeyong reaches out and you hand one over.

"They don't," You say and Taeyong looks at you and raises a questioning eyebrow, but you simply laugh.

“Don’t ask,” you say with a wave of your hand vaguely in front of his face. “Anyway, I should give them away.”

"Or you could keep a few of them and dress up for us," Taeyong winked at you and you laugh.

"They won't fit me anymore. My boobs and ass are bigger as they were when I was 18."

Taeyong pouted. "At least I tried."

"Besides, you and Doyoung always get me sexy lingerie, I haven't even put on the purple you brought me from Milan," you say and you paste the 'fragile' sticker on some of the boxes.

"Maybe tonight is your lucky night," Taeyong winks at you.

You chuckle shaking your head and smirks looking at him. "But seriously, thank you for coming today even though you're busy."

"You know I'll do everything for you," Taeyong extends his hand so you could grab it, and when you do it, he sits you on his lap. He cups your face in his hands and kisses you. You kiss him back placing your hands on his chest.

Taeyong's hands go from your face to your waist, pulling you closer to him. He kisses your jaw and then goes low to your beck. You close your eyes biting your lip and then sigh backing up a bit. "Why are you always torturing me?"

Taeyong giggles. "I'm sorry, I can't help myself."

"I hate you," you growl standing up. "Now move your ass so we can finish packing everything."

"Yes, ma'am."

…

"This place is... I can't even find a work to describe it," you say, walking around the spacious penthouse Doyoung and Taeyong bought for the three for you.

“Of course, we're billionaire genius businessmen. We have more money than we know what to do with. So, please, tell me again, why is it you’re carrying boxes up to the penthouse?” Doyoung stares at you.

You bite the corner of your bottom lip to keep from grinning, your step not faltering. You place the box in the center of the living room with the others.

“I can do it myself. I have super strength, Doyoung” you mock him.“And it's not like lifting boxes isn’t a hardship, baby. Or is it for you?"

Taeyong giggles looking down to the floor and Doyoung raises both eyebrows, looking at you. "Excuse me?"

"We get it, you cannot lift up boxes," you shrug. “It’s okay, baby.”

"I certainly can, but I'd rather lift up your legs and put them around my neck," Doyoung says, nonchalant.

"Then show me, baby," You say, almost crawling to him.

Doyoung exhales and looks at Taeyong. "Bedroom. Now."

You remember the first time you were with them as their ‘girlfriend’. It was so good you barely could walk the next day.

2 YEARS AGO

Doyoung and Taeyong made a bet with each other, who could make you call out their name the loudest, who could make you cum first, hardest, and most, who could give you the most pleasure. Taeyong was reluctant, but agreed seeing your confused face as you sprawled out on the bed, half naked.

Doyoung had you seated on his lap, and his lips on your bare neck. Taeyong pressed a soft kiss to your clothed clit, making you squirm. Doyoung leaned to your ear. “Be still for him,  love.” He whispered, nipping your ear. You turned your head to kiss him on the lips.

Doyoung shoved his tongue in your mouth and groaned a little as your hips lifted to Taeyong, then fell onto his erection that pressed against your ass. Taeyong, unhappy at the no attention, moved your underwear to the side and sucked your clit in his mouth. You broke the kiss to moan loudly and push against his mouth.

“Take her hips.” He said to Taeyong, who compiled quickly pinning your hips to Doyoung's. Doyoung hooked his arms under yours, lifting them above your head, giving Taeyong a perfect view of your body. “Isn't she beautiful?” Doyoung asked huskily. Taeyong lifted his head, much to your protest and gave a low groan.

“Gorgeous,” He breathed. Taeyong's eyes went from your body to Doyoung. In an instant he moved forward and kissed you, then moved beside your head to Doyoung. You moaned lowly, hearing them kiss wetly and they both gave a grunt.

“Doyoung... Taeyong...” You whined while rubbing your legs together. Taeyong broke the kiss with Doyoung and moved to you. Your lips collided, and Doyoung’s lips bit and sucked at your neck. He released your hands and slid them down your naked torso. You moaned in Taeyong's mouth. You hooked one arm behind you around Doyoung's neck, grabbing his hair. The other hand reached forward and grabbed Taeyong's dark hair. Taeyong took no time taking off your panties and sliding a hand along your mound. You threw your head back on Taeyong's shoulder. Taeyong moved to the opposite side of your neck. Doyoung and Taeyong kissed your neck, until their mouths met. You moaned hearing them moan. One of Doyoung's hands moved to Taeyong's hair, the other moved to his boxers, pushing them down slightly.

Doyoung broke the kiss and Taeyong finished taking off the rest of your clothing. You jumped feeling both their erections touch you, front and back. You closed your eyes and your stomach fluttered at the promise of both of them being inside you at the same time.

“Please... I need you both.” You whined.

“Same time?” He asked. “Front or back?”

“Please yes at the same time, do both, please I need... just please.” You whimpered, moving your hips back and forth grinding on both men. The both moaned. Doyoung's hand suddenly came to your ‘back door’. His hand was slick and warm. One finger traced around the hole then pushed in. You gasped and ground down slightly.

“C-careful... I’m sensitive.” You whisper causing Doyoung to groan and slowly push another finger in. You clench around him and moan highly at the odd feeling.

“Tell me if it hurts, god you’re so tight.” Doyoung groaned into the crook of your neck, now grinding against your lower back.

“(y/n).” Taeyong grunts your name. You turn your head to see a messy haired, wide eyed, pupils blown, lips wet and swollen. You moaned again and nearly came. Taeyong smashed his lips against yours and the hand in his hair tightened.

“Fuck, Doyoung.” You whine, breaking the kiss as he pushes in a third finger. It stung slightly, but when he started moving them it felt somewhat better. “I’m ready, please.” You tug on Doyoung's hair, hoping to egg him on. Doyoung nodded and pulled his fingers out, leaving you empty.

“Wall?” He asked Taeyong. Taeyong looked back and nodded. Doyoung moved you into Taeyong’s arms and he stood up. Taeyong stood with him, and they moved to a wall to brace you against.

With Doyoung’s back against the wall, your back on Doyoung’s chest, and Taeyong's chest on your chest you were sandwiched between them. Taeyong entered first and moaned lowly, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. Doyoung leaned forward pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Next it was Doyoung's turn, he was careful, considering you had never done anal before.

“Fuck (y/n) you’re so tight.” Doyoung groaned. Taeyong moved up and kissed you fully, his hips started to move. They started out as when one was in you the other was out, never having you empty. Eventually they decided to go the same quick pace.

“Doyoung! T-Taeyong” You cried out hitting your first orgasm. The tightness was too much for Doyoung and he quickly came. Taeyong groaned and finally released last. Taeyong heaved you off of Doyoung, Doyoung pulling out of you in the process.

“Stand for me, princess.” Taeyong whispered letting your legs drop to the floor. You were shaky, but were able to stand. Doyoung and Taeyong switched places, to where Taeyong’s back was on the wall and Doyoung was in front. Doyoung hoisted your legs up around his waist and made it easier for Taeyong whose arms wrapped under your ass to support you. Doyoung pressed his lips against yours, taking a minute to just kiss you. It wasn't until Taeyong ground up to your ass and whined did you break the kiss.

“Sorry honey.” Doyoung murmured and leaned forward kissing Taeyong as he entered you. You gasped at how hard he was. Taeyong pressed in and groaned. They began to move, as they did before starting out at different paces then matching up. They continued to kiss and you made the mistake of turning your head to look at them. It was probably one of the most sexual things you've ever seen.

You moaned loudly and clenched around them coming a second time.

Your head tossed back on Taeyong’s shoulder, your body overwhelmed with scenes. They stopped thrusting and instead lifted your body on their erections. You fell forward onto Doyoung this time and moaned loudly into his neck, biting down. Tears brimmed your eyes.

“D-Doyoung... Taeyong... I can't I-I can't,” Your voice came out horse, whiny, and breathy. Doyoung moaned.

You clenched again and came, tears of pleasure falling from your eyes. Doyoung came quickly after along with Taeyong. You slumped and breathed hard, small whimpers. Doyoung panted heavy and peeled you off of Taeyong, they both pulled out of you, making you wince. Taeyong sighed and walked to the bed with Doyoung trailed close behind. Taeyong laid you down in the middle of the bed and crawled in beside you, Doyoung crawling on the other side of you. You turned to kiss Taeyong, then Doyoung, then they both leaned forward kissing each other. They wrapped their arms around you, both placing a kiss on your cheek.

After you hot sex session with yout two boyfriends, you take a shower and changed into comfy clothes so you could keep unpacking. Doyoung told you you would only need your clothes and your most precious things so you didn't worry about furniture. Taeyong and Doyoung helped you to tidy up your clothes inside the big ivory walking closet in your bedroom and you smile seeing your clothes next to them. So domestic.

By noon, Doyoung took you to one of the rooms saying it was for you only. When you opened the door, you were speechless: you had your own office inside the penthouse. The office's walls are windows that have a view to the city. On the white desk sat a brand new desktop computer, a notebook lying closed. There was a big wine velvet couch. A bookshelf, bursting with books was in a corner. It was your own space.

"Guys..." You turn to them, smiling.

"It was Doyoung's idea, he said you'd need a space for you only," Taeyong says, leaning against the doorframe.

You look at Doyoung and hug him by the waist. "And you said you don't do cheesy stuff."

"I don't," Doyoung huffs. "I just thought of it."

"It's still cheesy," You say, smirking at him.

"Can't you simply say thank you?"

"Thank you," you peck him in the lips. "It means a lot."

"I know," he pecks you back. "I didn't decor it because I wanted you to do it."

"That's cheesy," Taeyong mokes him.

Doyoung shushed him and brought his attention back to you. "I have something else for you."

"What is it?" You inquire.

He pulls away and takes his wallet out of his jeans, taking out a credit card. He hands it to you and you frown. "I already have the ones you gave me months ago, I don’t see why I need a new one."

"This is the black Amex" he winks at you. "Spend as much as you want, love."

Your mouth hangs open in surprise. "Doyoung..."

"No," Doyoung shakes his hand. "Just take it."

"Take it," Taeyong says, still leaning against the doorframe. "And don't worry, you don't need to tell us what you buy."

"Unless you buy a boat, I'd appreciate it if you notify us," Doyoung smiles.

You giggle. "I would never buy a boat."

"Then we're relieved," Taeyong beams.

You sigh. “Don’t you think this is too much?”

Taeyong’s feet walk the distance standing next to Doyoung and cup your face with his hands, meeting your gaze. “We want you to have the best.”

“But you guys have given so much already,” you say, gazing at both men. You reach out by taking Doyoung’s hand in yours. “As long as I have you with me I’m well-served.”

“I know,” Doyoung kisses your hand and with his other arm, he pulls Taeyong closer to him, “but I’m still spoiling you. Both of you.”

The corner of Taeyong’s mouth turns up. “I’m richer than you.”

“So?” Doyoung narrows, “Let’s drop this conversation. (Y/N), you’re keeping the credit card, okay?”

You nod. “Yes, baby.”

One of the corners of Doyoung’s lips lifts and winks at you. “Good girl.”

…

A week later, you show up to work a little bit earlier than usual since you have so much stuff to get done. Being the Editor-in-Chief of Disclosure Magazine, whose job is to polish and refine a story or an article, was not easy.  You manage a team of writers and editors, determine the look and feel of the publication, decide what to publish and oversee the publication's operations and policies. And of course some people didn’t make it any easier, but you accomplished to get the magazine to being one of the most popular.

Disclosure Magazine is a business magazine that features original articles on finance, industry, investing, and marketing topics. And something you find very interesting is that your two boyfriends had been on the magazine before you met them.

By the time lunch time arrives, you check your phone and smile at Doyoung’s text message.

ꜰʀᴏᴍ: ᴅᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ

ᴛᴏ: (ʏ/ɴ)

ɪ ʀᴜꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴀʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ. ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴜᴘ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʟᴜɴᴄʜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ..

ꜰʀᴏᴍ: (ʏ/ɴ)

ᴛᴏ: ᴅᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ

ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ. ɪ’ᴍ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʟᴜɴᴄʜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴊᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ʜᴜʙʙʏ. ʙᴜᴛ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ? ;)

ꜰʀᴏᴍ: ᴅᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ

ᴛᴏ: (ʏ/ɴ)

ʙᴇᴛ.

You grab your purse as you leave your office, giving your assistant Leah instructions in case someone calls looking for you.

Although you never properly admit to it, you had to admit that you had the biggest crush on Jaehyun when you first met him almost ten years ago. Both of you were in their first year of university you met and since that day you two became inseparable. The crushing ended when he confessed to you he was into guys but he wanted to be your friend. It was awkward at first, but then you passed that and became roommates.

Then you introduced Johnny to Jaehyun and they hated each other the moment they saw them. Jaehyun didn't talk to you for a week after the date they went on was a tragedy. But three years later, they met each other again at Johnny's graduation party and ended up hooking up. Six years later, they got married.

“(Y/N)! Over here.” You hear your best friend shout, smiling soon afterwards.

“Hey there, guys.” You smirk at them, tapping Jaehyun on the back and kissing his cheek.

"No kiss for me?" Johnny pouts.

You roll your eyes and kiss Johnny's left cheek. "Hello, big baby boy."

Johnny smiles proudly. “You look radiant.”

“Thank you,” you say as you sit next to Jaehyun. “This is what love does to people.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes and snorts. “Show off.”

You giggle and Johnny crossed his arms on his chest. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Jaehyun laughs and places a hand on one of Johnny’s arms. “I was kidding, babe. Jeez, you’re so dramatic.”

Johnny hums and you smile looking at both men. “I missed you guys.”

“So did we!” Johnny beams. “We also have great news.”

“You do? What is it?” You query.

Johnny and Jaehyun look at each other smiling and turn to you. “We have been approved to adopt a baby!” Jaehyun’s eyes lit up.

“Oh my, God!” Your corners of your eyes crinkling. “You guys are getting a baby? I’m so happy for you!” You hug Jaehyun sitting next to you and rub Johnny’s shoulder. “But when did you apply? I didn’t even know you were already there.”

Johnny shrugs. “We didn’t tell anyone because we didn't want things to go south, you know? And now that thing is official, we can tell whoever we want.”

Jaehyun smiles. “Yeah, I still don’t believe this is real. We’re so excited.”

“And do you have a date already? Like, do you know when are you picking up your kid?” You ask.

“Not yet, but the lawyer said it won’t take more than two months,” Johnny explained.

“But we know it’s a baby girl,” Jaehyun grins.

Your eyes and nose crinkle and rub your hands together. “This is so stirring! I’m happy for you guys. Oh my, God, I’m gonna be an auntie!”

Jaehyun and Johnny nod giggling. “Yes, you will be an auntie. The best auntie ever.” Jaehyun winks at you.

“You say that because you two are only children,” you crossed your arms on your chest.

“Well, yeah,” Johnny says pinching his nose.

“We should order some mimosas to celebrate,” Jaehyun proposed.

You clap your hands. “Yes, yes, definitely.”

Johnny makes a polite hand gesture calling a waiter ordering three mimosas. After the waiter wrote the order down, he excuses himself leaving you again. “So, will our daughter have cousins?” Johnny inquiries.

You clear your throat, sliding a little on your chair. “I don’t know.”

“You haven’t talked about this?” Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows.

You shake your head. “Nope, and I don’t think we’re there yet. Plus, I think having a child while in a polyamorous relationship is a bit complicated, dont you think? I mean, I love them but how will I explain to my kids what kind of relationship I have with their dads?”

Johnny purses his lips as if thinking. “And I thought of explaining to my daughter why she has two dads… you’re screwed.”

You let out a dry chuckle. “That helps a lot, Johnny.”

Johnny shrugs and Jaehyun leans back on the chair. “So you don't plan on having kids with any of them?”

“I…” You tilt your head to the side. “I don’t know. I mean, Taeyong has two nephews and he’s amazing with them. And I heard Doyoung said once he’d love to have a kid one day... I don’t know. ”

“Jaehyun,” Johnny calls him,” stop tormenting her. It’s none of our business if they want to have kids or not.”

“Johnny 's right. Sorry (Y/N). “ Jaehyun apologised.

“It’s okay, and don't worry. If we ever are there, you guys will be the first ones to know,” you smirk at them.

The waiter comes back with the three mimosas on the tray and asks you if you want to check the menu, leaving you again.

You have a sip of your mimosa and smirk. “I better order something to eat or I’ll get fired for getting drunk during working hours.”

“Thank God I’m my own boss,” Johnny smiles before having a sip of his drink.

…

By 6 PM you are back in the penthouse, coming out of the shower wrapped in a blue towel. You stand in front of the mirror and apply a face mask to hydrate your skin. Then, you rub your hands together to warm up the lotion and then apply it to your body gently pressing the lotion into your skin with slow sweeping motions.

Taeyong texted you earlier saying he would be late and Doyoung is on his way to the penthouse. You get into the big walking closet and grab a lilac silk robe. You don’t even bother to put on underwear since you want to be more comfortable.

You come back to the bathroom and remove the face mask, rinsing your face. Once your face is dry, you get out of the bathroom going downstairs, walking barefoot on the elegant herringbone Brazilian wood floors, in direction to the kitchen. You open the refrigerator doors, thinking what to make for dinner. Tugging on your right ear, you decide to make Mongolian chicken and take out all of the ingredients.

You move to the kitchen island and start to thinly slicing the chicken breast when you hear the door open. “(Y/N)?” Doyoung calls you softly.

“In the kitchen!” You reply.

Doyoung walks to the kitchen and goes around the kitchen island standing behind you. “Hi, baby.” He wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on his shoulder.

You smile, still slicing the chicken breast. “Hi, sexy.”

You feel Doyoung smiles at the name you gave him. “What are you making?” He asks.

“Mongolian chicken,” you place the sliced chicken inside of a bowl.

Doyoung presses his body against your back, placing a soft kiss to your neck. Your body tenses as he nips and kisses your neck. His hands palming the curve of your hips. You lean your back against him as his hand travels up your body between your breasts. Gently he grasps you by your chin and turns your head. "You're not wearing any underwear," he whispers to your ear and he bites your right earlobe.

You are suffocating as your breath is taken away from your lungs at Doyoung's every touch on your body. "Should I apologise for that?"

Doyoung clicks his tongue and looks at you with disapproval. “You want me to show you some manners, love?”

He turns you to face him and his lips meet yours for the first time, his lips moving sinfully against yours sending a wave of excitement through your body. You two are deepening the kiss, pulling your hips against him, allowing you to feel his hardened length. "Show me some manners." You say biting his bottom lip.

He reaches down, pulling you up by the back of your thighs, you instantly wrap your legs around his waist as he places you on the counter. His lips begin to move against yours with more urgency, needing to feel you more.

"You drive me fucking crazy, (Y/N)." He breathes breaking the kiss, before kissing down your neck.

"Doyoung," You replied, your hips bucking into him. "W-we can't do this..."

You arch into his touch as his fingers skimm across the front of your chest over the fabric of your silk robe. Doyoung allows his fingertips to skim your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers as he pulls your hips forward with his other arm.

And just about you are going to start unbuttoning his shirt, you hear the door opening. "Doyoung? (Y/N)?" Taeyong calls you, walking towards the kitchen.

"Fuck," Doyoung whispers.

He helps you to get off of the counter and fix your robe. You take in a deep breath and return to what you were doing before Doyoung's arrival.

"Oh hey you two," Taeyong smirks and bounces at you two. He places a hand on your waist and gives you a peck. Then, he turns to Doyoung giving him a kiss as well. "What are you guys doing?"

"(Y/N) is making dinner and I was about to start helping,"  Doyoung explains.

"Oh great, I'm starving," Taeyong sighs. "Do you mind if I take a shower? I'll clean up after we finish eating."

"Yeah, no problem," you answered. "Go and take a shower. I bet I can use Doyoung's hands." You wink a Doyoung.

Taeyong nods and leans closer to you to give you another kiss. “You’re not wearing underwear.” He confirmed.

You smirk shrugging. “I didn’t notice.”

You whine when Taeyong slaps you in the ass and then he looks at Doyoung. “What are gonna do with her?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Doyoung mumbles, staring at you.

You gulp when you see Doyoung and Taeyong darting eyes to each other, while smiling mischievous.

Taeyong pushes onto the bed slightly and rests his right knee next to your sides, undoing the knot of your silk robe and smirks seeing your exposed body. “Gorgeous.”

You bite your lip and smile looking at him. “Fuck me wearing your suit. You look so sexy.”

Taeyong hums, letting his head down to catch your hand with his lips. They kiss your fingertips then he finally doves in and let you taste his tongue.

Doyoung sits in one of the ivory chairs in front of you, enjoying the show the two of you are putting on. He rests his right elbow on the armrest and tilts his head to the side.

Taeyong slips away from your arms and falls on his knees.

You grab the white comforter bed to steady yourself as his tongue dances in circles around your clit, you bury your hands in his hair. His hands pressing into the softness of your thighs just as hard and when he raises his gaze up to look at you from underneath his messy fringe, you feel like falling.

Taeyong runs a finger along your slick folds and pushes one in, eyes never leaving yours. Then he adds another one and drags it in and out of you painfully slowly. Your mouth falls open in a silent ‘o’ and he quickened his pace. The lewd squelching sound fills the room and you feel your high approaching.

"Shit," he presses tiny little kisses to your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, before taking it in his mouth. Taeyong curls his fingers inside of you and you moan out his name, loud enough.

Then he draws away just as you’re about to come. You whine and pull his hair. "Behave." He coocks an eyebrow at you.

"Just fuck me, Taeyong," you bite your lip.

"If you don't behave I won't let you cum," Taeyong warned you.

You sigh and nod. He smirks and unbutton his black pants, pulling out his dick only. Taeyong positions himself at your entrance. He pushes in slowly and you hiss a little. He pushes in slowly, further and further until he is fully sheathed inside you. He pulls out slowly, and pushes back in again. In and out, slowly.

“Oh god, Taeyong. Please go faster.” Taeyong chuckles and kisses you deeply again, your tongues intertwining and exploring each others’ mouths. You move your legs and wrap them around Taeyong's waist to allow him to thrust into you with more ease. The sounds of skin slapping against skin and your heavy breaths filled the room.

You arch your back, moaning. You see Doyoung stroking himself, eyes fixed on you two. Then, his gaze meets yours and you bite your lip. Your hand goes down and moves to circle your clit and you feel your walls convulse around his cock as you shudder with release, cries escaping your lips. Doyoung comes too. You feel Taeyong's member twitch inside of you and he comes, a string of expletives leaving his mouth. He collapses down onto your chest, panting heavily.

Taeyong kisses your neck and he pulls away, fixing his pants. "Such a good girl," he caresses your legs and places kisses on them.

Doyoung stands up and grabs Taeyong by the neck, kissing him roughly. Taeyong whines and bites Doyoung's bottom lip. You moan quietly, your hand going down to your clit. Watching them is so sexy. Doyoung pulls you towards him and rolls you on your stomach instead. "Let's see if you behave with me." You press your face into the edge of the mattress when you feel his hands knead your asscheeks.

"Shit," he swears softly, spreading you out and letting his cock rub between them after straddling your thighs. "Keep your legs together and stay down, love," he orders when you want to lift your hips upwards. Hand on your lower back and the other around his cock he presses his tip on the tight softness of your pussy and you arch your back first before falling down again on your chest when he grabs your arms and locks them into his grip. His cock slips inside slowly, making him grunt roughly and when he bottoms out you both sighed.

His first thrust makes you shift forwards on the bedding and Doyoung pulls you by the forearms. Enjoying your whimpers especially as he adds to it by slapping your ass. You moan and he smirks. He pulls out and slides again, this time lifting your hips and pulling you towards him by the waist. His thumbs are almost bruising your skin as they press hard into your flesh making your bodies meet so quickly that you don't have enough time to breathe. You feel Doyoung's stomach on your lower back and eye his arm pressing on the mattress near your bust to support himself, you choke feeling his other hand reach your clit and rub it mercilessly.

Taeyong positions himself in front you, hard again but this time stroking himself.

His breath is erratic on your shoulder when he bites down on the skin, your sudden shaking body and fingers clasping at the sheets making him still inside of you for a moment. "Good girl, you're such a good girl, taking it so well," he kisses your cheek then your lips. You whine back unable to move a single muscle and you let him gently nibble at your lower lip. But then he slides out and back in, making you remember that he is still stretching you out and the overstimulation feels so good that little tears perked at the corner of your eyes.  

"Fuck,fuck,shit"

Doyoung slaps your ass and it jiggled under his palm before he roughly kneads its flesh. "Good girls don't curse." His husky voice alone would is enough to make you lose your mind and you are sure that you are on the verge of passing out when Doyoung swears and his grips tightens as he releases inside of you, his last thrusts pushing his cum back in and enough to make you orgasm so quickly again that your muscles start to hurt from the continuous spasms. The clenching around his cock makes Doyoung whine for a few more moments before he pulls out slowly and watches the way your pussy drips with his essence. Taeyong reaches his climax as well, moaning gruntly. He lays next to you and sighs. "Fuck."

Doyoung collapses on his side near you, you can barely open your eyes. “Holy shit-”

"We made a mess out of the bed," Doyoung addresses, still panting.

"I know," Taeyong giggles. "We should take a bath and then change the bedding."

"I'm too tired to stand up," you pout.

"I got you, baby," Taeyong stands up and lifts you up.

You chuckle and look at Doyoung. "You coming?"

He nods. "Get inside, I'll be right there in a minute."

That same night, after you took a bath, changed the bedding and ordered some food, you were lying between both men. Doyoung is busy focusing on his Macbook answering some emails, while Taeyong is reading a book with his back leaning against the tall modern velvet headboard. You think about which of the two men to hug and eye Doyoung for a moment: if there's one thing he hates most in this world, it's being interrupted when he's busy. You turn to see Taeyong and smile, he will never say no to you.

You can't keep from gazing at Taeyong as he reads; watching him pensive expression change as his dark brown eyes follow lines. He is truly beautiful

Taeyong eventually catches your gaze and understands what you want. He gathers you up into his arms, pressing your face into his chest. You smile and put an arm around his waist. He places a kiss on your forehead and goes back to his book.

"Is there a reason you're particularly quiet?" Doyoung suddenly asks, eyes still focused on the screen.

You are always chatty before going to bed and that night Doyoung's right. Something is going through your head but don't want to talk about it, since you don't know how they are going to react.

Taeyong strokes your hair and looks down at you. "Is everything okay?"

You nod. "I'm fine, is just... work. The anniversary party is around the corner, the new magazine design is coming out very soon..."

Doyoung looks at you, frowning. "I know you very well, I know that's not the only thing that is bothering you. What is it?"

You hide your face on Taeyong's neck, he wraps your shoulders and you finally sigh. "I really don't wanna talk about it."

Doyoung puts his laptop away and his fingers imperceptibly tightens around your waist. "Whatever it is, I'm sure we can handle it." He places a kiss on the back of your head.

"Don't keep it to yourself, baby. You know you can talk to us," Taeyong speaks, kissing the top of your head.

"You will freak out," you snap.

"We won't," Doyoung assures.

You let a frustrated sigh out and shake your head. "Maybe tomorrow."

Doyoung sighs defeated. "Fine. Now have some rest. Goodnight, love. I love you." He leans to you and kisses your cheek and pecks Taeyong in the mouth. "Goodnight, babe."

"Goodnight," Taeyong smiles at him and then kisses your temple. "Goodnight, sweetie."

"Goodnight. I love you, guys."

#dotae smut #dotae x reader #doyoung smut #doyoung x reader #doyoung imagine #taeyong smut #taeyong x reader #taeyong imagine #nct 127 imagine #nct 127 smut #jaehyun smut #jaehyun x reaeder

[spiderlilyserendipity]

omg violet you write so well!! if you can, could you write a taehyung nsfw of while on vacation, tae's girlfriend wakes him up early with kisses and promises to do "whatever he wants" if he gets up with her and explores the city and tae holds her to that promise when they get back to their hotel starting with some steamy (private) hot tub sex?

Anon, you are awesome but you have ruined my brain. I got so carried away writing this fic, it is double the size I thought it would be. Many thoughts, head full typa situation. Thank you. This one is titled Only One. Enjoy <3

WC: 4475

Genres: Smut, fluff, angst

Tags: established relationship, anniversary dinners, tae x oc take a trip to Paris

Warnings: dom/sub relationship, dom!taehyung, sub!reader, sir kink, punishment, praise kink, use of the word slut once, colour system as a safeword, insecurity, possessiveness, possessive sex, aftercare, taehyung is very 🥵🥵🥵 in this one y’all

(*Cis female reader*)

“Y/N, Y/N, should we take a picture over there?” Taehyung asks, batting his eyes cutely.

You smile but roll your eyes at Taehyung’s enthusiasm.

Not to be mistaken, if there’s anyone who loves their boyfriend, it’s you. You would live and die for Kim Taehyung, but there’s a special reason for your eyeroll today.

It has been only two weeks since Taehyung got off tour, and at that a world tour. You know Taehyung must be very tired from constantly travelling, hence why you let your boyfriend get his full rest the first week. But the thing is you haven’t seen your lover in a year, and you want to make some memories with him. 

You know he will get too busy once the post-tour lull passes over everyone at the company and everything goes back to regular schedule. Then, Taehyung will get sucked away by album preparations, promotions once it’s out, and inevitably: another tour.

You love that Taehyung gets to do what he loves for a living. You also love how cool he looks on stage. But most of all you like getting to spend time with him. 

To be honest, you were going to go see Taehyung in Paris during the European leg of the tour. It had been your anniversary, and the two of you had plans to get dinner together and enjoy the city. But then life happened and your plans came crashing down, preventing you from seeing Taehyung until the tour ended months later.

But past you had thought quickly, knowing the day Taehyung would return home and shifted your ticket instead of cancelling. So a week after Taehyung got home, you presented him with a second plane ticket to Paris, France that you bought last minute just for him.

You thought Taehyung would agree with making up for your missed anniversary, but Taehyung had frowned instead. “Babe, I seriously don’t want to go anywhere for a while. I’m sick of hotels and planes.”

“But I’ve never been there, baby. It would be so romantic!” You convinced him eventually, your pout winning him over. Taehyung had sighed, then called his manager to let him know.

So excited from Taehyung agreeing, you had leapt up into his arms and kissed him like crazy. “Ahhh! I’m so excited!”

Taehyung had held back a grin. “Okay. But no touristy stuff.”

You pout. “But that’s the most fun part!” When Taehyung pouts back, you try to convince him again. “Baby, I promise I’ll seriously do anything you say if you do all the embarrassing touristy stuff with me.”

“Anything?” Taehyung asked you, arching a brow. 

You took his hand, nodding eagerly. “Anything. Let’s just have fun!”

Taehyung grinned at you. “You better keep your word.”

You had kissed him, grinning at him. He watched you with a fond smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You bet I will.” You vow.

It isn’t until you actually land in Paris that you realize what anything Taehyung is imagining.

For all his great qualities, Taehyung is not subtle about what he wants. Especially when he wants you.

The first three days, Taehyung lets you drag him around under the condition that you both wear disguises to avoid being noticed. You comply, picking odd hours of the day for activities that would be very busy at other times of day. You hit all the touristy spots in early mornings before the crowd, hide away in small tucked away cafes and restaurants with Taehyung during lunch hour, then spend the day browsing vintage stores for jewellery and clothes. 

It’s all fun and games except for the teasing that Taehyung will not stop. It’s hard for you to name a time of day where Taehyung’s big hands hadn’t been resting on your waist or his lips idly pressing a kiss to your cheek in passing. You know very well the game Taehyung is playing. He is slowly working you up, getting you used to his constant touches. Then, he will withdraw them, leaving you needy. 

Despite Taehyung’s teasing, the two of you still have a great time. You buy souvenirs for your friends and things for yourself. Taehyung also buys you clothes and jewellery, loving to spoil you. But what you love the most are the small establishments he brings you to, full of tasty food and where no one knows his name. You know the game Taehyung is playing, but you let him guide you to an isolated table towards the back and feed you food off his own utensils. You let him wipe the corner of your mouth for some smeared sauce, let him lick it off his thumb. Sometimes, you even get a little on your face on purpose. Taehyung notices when you do that, and lets you get away with it. After all, this isn’t a favour he’s doing you. This is your anniversary trip. He can’t be the only one getting away with teasing.

The following three days, the two of you hit the museums. Taehyung shows you around, explaining things he had seen on previous trips to Paris. You listen to him, happier to see him happy than to really look at the art. You take pictures of your boyfriend inside the museum and really anywhere it won’t catch too much attention.

Over those three days, Taehyung’s touches decrease. He reduces it little by little, but you know him well by now. Taehyung isn’t trying to be subtle, rather the opposite. He wants you to notice, to get riled up when his touch is gone. 

You tell yourself you don’t mind it, but both of you know it’s a lie. You ignore the smirk on Taehyung’s face every time you intertwine your hands or wrap an arm around his waist to guide him through the back roads. You will get back at him at dinner tonight.

After lunch on the final day, you tell Taehyung to head back to the hotel on his own. You say you are going to buy a new dress for your dinner date tonight, and that you want it to be a surprise for him. Chuckling, Taehyung just passes you his blackcard and tells you to have fun.

You buy a dark green coloured gown, Taehyung’s favourite colour, and a matching necklace and earrings set of emeralds. You smile at the sight of your ass being cupped by the silky material. This is sure to drive Taehyung mad. After all, tonight is the final night. Both of you know exactly how tonight will end.

You catch a cab to the five star Taehyung made a reservation at. You pay the taxi driver excitedly, getting out in your all new outfit, new heels, and even a new purse! You were sure to impress Taehyung.

You walk into the restaurant, telling the waiter who you’re here with. He lets you in, guiding you upstairs to your table.

You frown as you see your table. From this angle, you can’t see who, but Taehyung is talking to a woman. You approach quietly, catching neither of their attention. Luckily (or unluckily) for you, they’re talking loudly. You don’t speak much French but you don’t need it to deal with this woman. You hear her mention the word “model” and a woman’s clothing brand. You hear her repeat “model” a second time as she blatantly roams her eyes down Taehyung’s figure, then up at him. That’s the part that makes your blood boil. You know she is aware of your presence. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of relationship you and Taehyung have.

But she still challenges you anyway, openly eyeing your man in public. If you could speak more French than basic small talk you would rip her a new one. 

Fuck it. You think, making your way across the room. Who needs to know the language?

“Oh, baby.” You say in a sweet voice. They both look over at you. The woman looks visibly irritated, pursing her perfect lips in annoyance. What a shame you like to flirt with other women’s men. You think, slightly in awe at her beauty. I’d like you in any other situation. “Is this a friend?” You ask.

You see a hint of a smile before Taehyung bites it back. “No, Y/N. We just met tonight.”

You smile pointedly at the woman. She frowns at you. “Ah, I see. Well, it was nice meeting you. We haven’t had dinner yet, so.” You say, pretending to be apologetic for cutting the conversation short. All three of you know you’re not, but it’s the thought that counts. Or doesn’t. You couldn’t care less.

“Colour.” Taehyung asks the minute you’re back in the hotel room. 

“Green.” 

“Poor baby. Got so angry that I took my eyes off you, huh?” Taehyung teases, hooking his fingers in the band of your underwear. He pulls back, making it snap against your hips. You whimper. “What’s that? Are you trying to say something?” Taehyung taunts you.

He cranes his head to look at you. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He makes a fake-worried face. “That’s odd, you were talking perfectly fine a few hours ago. Was it something in the food that’s making you feel sick or are you just embarrassed from being a possessive little slut in front of sir?”

His words make you shiver. He grins as he feels it against his own abdomen. “It seems like you’re really sick, Y/N. I guess we'll just have to go to bed.”

He begins to unwind his arms from around your waist, but you grab them, holding them against your skin. “S-Sir.” You whisper.

“There’s my girl.” Taehyung says proudly, rewarding you with a kiss to your temple. “Let’s talk about what you did wrong tonight, shall we?”

“I-I was possessive. I got jealous because you were talking to that model.”

Taehyung’s eyes flicker at the last word. “Oh, you heard?” He snaps the band of underwear against your skin again. You wriggle, but he refuses to let you go. “What a bad girl. Eavesdropping on sir’s conversations. What if she had been a potential colleague and you ruined everything? But you didn’t think of any of that, only your. own. feelings.” He emphasizes each of the three words with another smack. “You’re just an ungrateful little slut, aren’t you? I bet you would open your legs for any man that offered you this kind of treatment, huh?” He growls in your ear.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whisper, voice cracking.

Taehyung stops. “Colour.” He says, thumbs gently stroking at your sides.

“Green.” 

“Y/N.” He repeats more firmly. You sniffle. A tear rolls down your cheek. Taehyung thumbs it away immediately. “We don’t have to. I’m sorry. Do you want to take a bath together? We can cuddle after. Anything you’re comfortable with baby.”

You shake your head, looking away from him. “I’m really okay. I...I want my punishment.”

Taehyung turns you to look at him. He watches your face, looking for any unwillingness. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He smiles finally when he sees the familiar, hazy look in your eyes. You are already slipping into subspace.

“Follow me.” Taehyung says.

You walk behind him, still naked except for your panties. Taehyung is still entirely clothed in his suit and tie. He leads you to the fancy living room of the suite, and closes the curtains. You wait until he sits down to approach him. You observe his spread legs and the stern look in his eye. The air in the living room is freezing cold, but it only adds to it. This is one of the many things you love about Taehyung. How incredibly sexy he looks when he is in control.

Without being asked, you get on the sofa on your hands and knees. You drape your body over Taehyung’s lap, ass up in his lap. You fold your arms over the sofa’s armrest, turning your head to look at Taehyung. 

Taehyung’s warm hand caresses your ass. He kneads at the flesh roughly without breaking eye contact with you. On the outside, he looks indifferent, dark eyes sultry. He makes it look like he couldn't care less if it was you or another sub being bent to his will. But you know it’s part of the scene, that he’s watching you this intensely for your reaction and it is only your reaction he ever wants in a setting like this.

“You can safeword out if you need to.” He reminds you. You nod, putting your head against the armrest. “Count.” He tells you, before the first smack comes down.

You flinch on instinct, but his arm pins the backs of your thighs down. “One.”

Another smack but to the other cheek. You hiss under your breath. “Two.”

Taehyung gives the next three in succession. “F-Five.”

“Colour?” Taehyung re-checks. You reply green again. He delivers two more. “Six, ah, seven.”

The next two smacks are harsher. “Eight, nine一!” As you’re counting, Taehyung gives the final one. This one is the hardest of all, making the two of you sink a little lower into the sofa. “T-Ten.”

You are crying now, falling deeper into your subspace. Taehyung’s warm hands smooth over the places they hit. His voice murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, reassuring you.

“S-Sorry.” You continue to cry. “I didn’t mean to be like that.”

“I know.” Taehyung reassures you. He helps you up into a sitting position. It burns to sit on your still painful ass, but you do so anyway because it’s Taehyung who asks you to do it. “You took my punishment very well, Y/N, just like a good girl.”

You shake your head, sniffling. “I don’t wanna be ‘a good girl’, I wanna be your good girl.” You say. Taehyung frowns slightly as he wonders what that means, then looks shocked when he realizes what you’re saying.

“You are my good girl, baby.” He says softly, wiping away your tears. “No one but you.”

“But i-it was our a-anniversary dinner and you were letting her flirt with you. You just一just let her do it. And when I called you baby at the restaurant, you only called me Y/N.” You confess, giving up your fake confident act. The truth is that despite your anger in the moment, you had felt very insecure. It wasn’t like you could blame the woman for finding your boyfriend hot, anyone would. But the fact that Taehyung never said anything back and just put up with it instead of correcting her bothered you. Was it embarrassing to admit he was dating you in front of a woman who was so obviously his equal in elegance? This thought bothered you throughout the whole dinner. 

You didn’t plan on telling Taehyung about it, since he didn’t know you sometimes felt this way. One of the reasons you insisted on travelling to make up for your missed anniversary was this doubt. Maybe if you showed him around this fancy city and you made good memories with him, he might appreciate it. Maybe then it would ease your doubt of if you were worthy enough to be his.

You had never admitted this aloud to anyone, but you actually wondered If Taehyung had women in other countries that he went on dates with during tour. You know Taehyung is a good person but after all, he is a young man with sexual needs. And at that, a very attractive man who could get with just about any woman he wanted. So yes, seeing him talk to the very attractive woman had angered you, but it also made you feel like your worst fears might be true. 

“Y/N, talk to me, baby.” Taehyung pleads you, his worried brown eyes searching your face for any answers.

“...Can I ask you a question?” 

“Of course, my love.” Taehyung responds. “Ask me anything you want, baby.’

You sniffle. You play with his suit blazer. “Can you promise to not get mad at me?”

Taehyung looks like he might cry when you ask that. “I promise.”

“When you go away for tour...is there anyone else?” You watch your own tears fall onto Taehyung’s dress shirt. Taehyung looks shaken. “It might seem random but I’ve always wondered. I promise I’m not just acting up because of tonight.”

Taehyung continues to watch you, looking worried and at a loss for words. You put on a fake smile. “Sorry, it’s probably nothing. Let’s just go to bed.” 

Taehyung holds you by the waist, stopping you from getting up. “Y/N.”

“I said it’s fine. It’s okay. Really, even if you had another woman. I can’t control what you do when you’re not with me. A year is too long for a couple to spend apart anyway, it’s only natural that your feelings would change. It’s okay. Anyway,” You breathe shakily. “Anyway I’m still yours. As long as you like, of course.”

“Of course I like it.” Taehyung insists, tears glistening in his eyes. “I love you. Tell me how long you’ve felt like this.”

You hesitate. “Y/N.” There it is again, that firm tone that you hate outside of scenes. 

You look down at your hands. “Maybe two years?”

Taehyung is crying now, and he cups your face in his hands. “You’ve been thinking like this for two years? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“...I didn’t want to burden you. You’re really busy on tour.”

Taehyung purses his lips. “Can I show you there’s no one else?”

You nod. Taehyung lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He holds you by the backs of your thighs instead of your ass, careful not to hurt you. “The bed?” He asks. You consider the feeling of the rough sheets against your sore ass. 

You shake your head. “C-Can we use the hot tub?”

Taehyung kisses your forehead. “Anything for you.”

Taehyung sets up the hot tub for both of you. He takes your panties off for you, sliding them down your legs. He kisses you deeply, sweetly. You whimper into the kiss, his tongue completely in control of your mouth. When you part, a strand of saliva comes loose. When you part far enough, the saliva ends up on your chin. Taehyung wipes it with his thumb. A darkness has entered his eyes again. “Get in. Let me show you how much I love you.”

You get in the hot tub, relishing the feeling of the hot water. It stings a bit, but it’s easier to sit then the bed would have been. You sit with your legs spread slightly, calves tucked under you and feet beneath your ass. Neat and pretty. Just the way sir likes it.

Taehyung strips quickly once you’re in the water. Your eyes roam over his beautiful body, at the hard muscle of his chest, his bulging biceps, his caramel thighs, and his rigid cock. “Come here.” Taehyung orders as he gets in the water. You do so, climbing up into his lap. He kisses you hungrily, like this is the first time all night. You are surprised at the intensity of this kiss. You cannot recall a time Taehyung has ever kissed you so passionately in your years together, even in your roughest scenes. 

“So pretty.” Taehyung growls when you two part again. He wraps one arm around your waist to press your chest against his, then attacks your neck. You gasp as he makes love bites, all the way down your neck. He has never made this many before in total, yet he makes them everywhere tonight. He litters your collarbone and the top of your chest with them, making them bloom red at first but you know they will be a deep purple shade tomorrow. “How can you not know what you mean to me, when you’re this fucking beautiful? You drove me crazy in your dress tonight, no, you drive me crazy every fucking time I see you. Maybe even since the first time I met you.”

“S-Sir.” You moan at the praise, face heating up. Taehyung pushes you back against the wall of the hot tub. You tilt your head back against the tiles as he touches you everywhere. He uses his hands to tease at your nipples, making them harden. Even as he does it, he is grinding down on you. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. 

“You fucking know I am.” Taehyung snaps, losing the careful composure he wears during scenes. “You’re my one and my only. Look at yourself, so fucking lewd, all worked up by my touch. You have me wrapped around your finger and you still think I’d have another woman.” He continues, cursing in between his sentences at your sweet sounds.

“S-Sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry.” Taehyung cuts you off. You let out moans as he starts rubbing at your clit, hard and fast. You grind against his hand. In his dom persona, Taehyung would never tolerate you doing this, but both of you are too far gone tonight to follow the rules to a T. “I will clear this misunderstanding tonight. On your knees, princess.” 

You lean on top of the towel Taehyung placed for you on the tiles. Taehyung places his own knees outside of yours, and you feel his hard cock against your ass. Taehyung eases two fingers into you, wet from your arousal that it’s an easy fit. “Nnn, sir.” You plead, grinding down on him. 

“You won’t get more until you say what I want to hear.” Taehyung says next to your ear. He presses his chest into your back, pinning you to the edge of the hot tub. “Who do you belong to?”

“Sir! I belong to sir!” You cry out, and Taehyung picks up the pace.

“So fucking pretty.” Taehyung praises, kissing the marks he left on your neck. “Only you get treated like this, understand? No woman could ever be loved like this by me. Every time you forget I will bend you over my lap and make you come on my cock over and over until you get it in your head.”

You let out a particularly loud moan at that, making Taehyung smirk. “Does my princess like that, hmm? You want to get bent over and take my cock all the time? Want me to fill you up with my come, plug you with a pretty little toy, and make you go about your day?” Taehyung inserts another finger and the stretch has you whining. “Answer me.” He demands.

“I do. Ah, fuck, Taehyung. Please. I do.” You plead, tilting your head to the side. Taehyung meets you immediately in a passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, completely different from Taehyung’s usual style. Is this really what he can do when he lets go? You wonder, getting drunk on his kisses alone. You thought Taehyung had been rough before, but it’s nothing compared to tonight.

“Turn around.” Taehyung says, withdrawing his fingers. 

He takes in your needy expression, leaning in to kiss you again like he can’t get enough of you. “Can I come in you, baby? Have you been taking your pill regularly?” 

“Yes. Yes.” You chant. Taehyung laughs breathlessly, grabbing a fistful of your hip in one hand and lining himself up to your entrance.

When he enters, both of you moan. “So good. Whose are you, princess?”

“Yours, only yours.” You answer breathlessly. Taehyung grips your thighs and lifts you slightly, allowing him to enter you more deeply. 

Taehyung abruptly picks up the pace of his thrusts. You grip at his shoulders for support, unable to stop the noises that fall from your lips constantly. Not only is Taehyung going fast, he is also going incredibly deep, rubbing right over your G-spot. 

“C-Can I come, sir?” You beg.

Taehyung nods, and you move one hand between your legs to rub at your clit. As you tip your head back, Taehyung holds himself deep inside you. Both of you come at the same time, you clench hard around him and Taehyung pumps his seed inside you. He kisses at the marks on your neck as he comes, and you dig your nails into his back. 

You move your hand to his hair once you finish, stroking it gently. Taehyung pulls back from the wall, his hand smoothing down your back to ease any discomfort you felt being pressed against it. You don’t even notice until the postcoital bliss dies down that your ass was now more sore than before. But Taehyung does. 

“Let’s take a shower.” He tells you, helping you up. You both get out of the hot tub. Taehyung runs a small handcloth under the tap. He comes over and wipes your vagina down first, then cleaning himself. 

The two of you get in the shower together. You let Taehyung wash your body down, scrubbing gently and avoiding touching your ass. You grab his shampoo off the ledge and put a good amount in your palms. “What are you doing?” Taehyung asks, surprised that you turned around while he was washing your back.

“Taking care of you.” You mumble, washing Taehyung hair for him. You grab the detachable showerhead from the side. You shield his eyes with a hand as you rinse the soap out.

Taehyung smiles fondly at how concentrated you look. “Baby, a dom is supposed to look after their sub following a scene. Not the other way.”

You shrug. You probably heard that somewhere. Your brain is too foggy right now to think. “But I want to.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yes.” You answer, smiling at how nice Taehyung’s hair looks now that it’s clean. “Because I belong to you.”

Taehyung lightly pecks your forehead. “And I’m yours.”

Later, when the haze of your subspace wears off, you two are laying in bed together. You’re wearing one of Taehyung’s shirts and a pair of panties. Taehyung is shirtless and in a pair of boxers. Taehyung has just finished putting lotion on your sore bottom to ease the ache for tomorrow. 

You lay on top of Taehyung’s chest, and Taehyung tucks the blankets tucked in around you. You snuggle up against his chest, content in his strong arms.

“Y/N, I know I already proved my point, but you really are my only one.” Taehyung tells you. You don’t reply so he cranes his head to look at you. Taehyung smiles fondly to notice you’re already asleep. He kisses the top of your head. “No problem. I guess I have the rest of my life to prove it to you.” He mutters to himself.

You smile to yourself with your eyes closed.

Requests are open (✿◡‿◡)

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