#normally i would send her this stuff directly ���

[afterglowkatie]

18+ content pls dni if you’re a minor !! this is longer than i originally planned it out to be…this was supposed to be small little thoughts but yep have this

(mommy kink (n), puppy/pup (r), use of toys, d/s dynamic, reader is afab, guided masturbation)

natasha being away on a mission telling you to be good and not touch what’s hers until she’s back but day after day the ache gets unbearable and you can’t help but give in a start touching yourself. getting lost in the pleasure you don’t notice natasha coming back home and now her standing in the doorway until she clears her throat. she smirks at the way your face changes so quickly from pleasure to fear and shame of being caught.

before you can even begin to stutter out apologies, she’s already next to you softly stroking your cheek lulling you into a false sense of security that she isn’t mad. next thing you know her fingers are in your mouth pushing them in deeper making you gag around them slightly

‘well puppy, don’t stop just because i’m here, keep going’ smirking, a low chuckle at the hesitation on your face. not knowing whether she was setting you up, knowing you’d already broken her first rule you might as well try to be good and listen to her now. natasha smiles, removing her fingers, watching you start to rub your clit again. listening to your whines and whimpers, her favourite sound.

she would talk you through touching yourself, sitting back watching how her words, mixed praises with hints of degrading, was coaxing you further into sub space. telling you how fast to rub your clit, telling you to slow down once you got close. how many fingers, slowly making you stretch yourself out, keeping you on edge until you managed to get three inside you, ‘be a good pup, make a mess all over yourself for me’ allowing you to cum.

‘good girl, such a shame you can’t follow instructions any other time’ being so deep in your headspace you didn’t register her words properly, thinking the minimal edging was all your punishment consisted of.

until the next time natasha had to leave you by yourself for the day. you didn’t want her to leave and it was the morning so it was easy to get you spread out naked on the bed. grabbing one of her suit belts she swiftly ties your hands together and to the headboard ‘my pretty girl, look at you all spread out for mommy,’ running her hands all over your body, groping your breasts, pulling and rolling your nipples between her fingers, sliding her fingers through your folds dipping the tips or her fingers into you before pulling away completely. grabbing a vibrating wand and tying it to your thigh making sure it’s pressed right against your clit before turning it on, ‘it’s a shame i have to leave such a pretty little thing’

you’d be whining and pleading with her to stay, ‘mommy will be back soon doll, be good for me. maybe my sweet princess will learn to listen after this’ she’d give you a kiss on her forehead, stroking your cheek gently before leaving.

natasha would never be gone for long, and she’d have cameras set up so she could keep an eye on you, making sure you’d be okay. you know she’d have everything voice activated if she was gone so you could still use your safewords and everything would slow down or stop depending on which you used. despite it being a punishment natasha would always remind you to never be afraid to use your safewords always praising when you do.

after coming back home she’d marvel and admire you before making her presence known. always telling you how pretty you look all fucked out for her. her precious girl. mumbling incoherently she’d swiftly turn off and untie the vibrator and your wrists pulling you into her arms holding you close. whispering how good you’d been, all kinds of sweet nothings while you cling right to her.

already having a warm bath already prepared along with your favourite bottle when you’re like this filled with water. gently placing you in the water and climbing in behind you hugging you close knowing you like to be kept close and feel her body against yours. she’d wash your hair and body so gently, massaging your back before drying the two of you off and wrapping you up in your softest pjs and a warm fluffy blanket

[giuseppe-yuki]

birthday celebration?

normal!max verstappen x billionaire!reader

w.c.: 3.8k

warnings: suggestive material, curse words, danica patrick (?), sassy and jimmy slander (sorry i love them irl i promise)

part of my money, money, money!universe

summary: yesterday was max's birthday. the press wants to know: you guys went all out to celebrate, right?

a/n: so yesterday was actually my birthday 🤭 i tried my best to post this before it hit 12 as a birthday treat for y'all, but it didn't really work out... consider this a late birthday post + max 4 wdc celebration :)

p.s. this is NOT the money, money, money spinoff that i promised- i'm working on that i swear🤞🥲

picture credits from pinterest :)

to say the driveway up to the gala building was crowded was an understatement. if you looked out the window of the very expensive rolls royce you were currently seated in, you could spot at least five rosso corsa ferraris and like, three jet black lamborghinis within a meter from you. to be honest, you had to give props to your private driver, daniil, because there was no way you could have strategically maneuvered the car onto the jam-packed road without causing a rather exorbitant pileup of supercars. next to you, on the plush leather seats, was your boyfriend in his freshly pressed, custom fitted suit that you had your assistant buy just for the event. he sits there politely with his hands folded together, wide blue eyes blinking at you innocently. he looked mighty handsome, and if you weren’t currently sitting in a car with a billion cars, paparazzi, and influential figures right outside, you certainly would have done some not-so-appropriate things to max right then and there.

instead of doing said things and traumatizing your poor private driver, you quickly glance at your phone. 

a bold 5:10 flashes across the screen, in front of your lockscreen of max curled up in bed with jimmy and sassy. 

shit. 

you were scheduled to do some press stuff outside the event around 5:20, and had to be inside by 5:45. if the queue of cars of ahead of you didn’t hurry up, you would probably be late, and it wouldn’t be a good thing if the ceo of redbull herself was late to her own redbull gala. 

max, like the sweet, observant boyfriend that he is, peers down at his own phone, notes the time, then tilts his head at you. 

“do you want to just run up to the entrance?” he asks, pocketing his phone. “i’m sure it’s not too far, and i don’t want you to be late for your pr stuff!” 

that didn’t sound like a bad idea. 

after notifying daniil, you and max slip out of the vehicle, much to the surprise of the people in the cars around you. once you squeeze out of the crowd of exotic cars onto the sidewalk, max takes your hand and bolts his way towards the grandly decorated stairs of the gala in the distance. 

unfortunately, you might have misjudged the distance to the entrance, because you both end up a little moist from sweat by the time your heeled feet reach the red carpet-lined stone stairs that lead up to open double doors- the entrance to the gala. lining the stairs are multiple cameras and interviewers, met-gala style. you are sure these are the pr interviews that your assistant was talking about, judging by the sprinkle of red-bull sponsored athletes chit-chatting to a few press members along the stairs and groups of photographers sending off bright flashes with their high-tech cameras. to your right, a man you recognize as sergio perez nods slowly as his interviewer animatedly gestures to a picture of sergio diving into what looks like a pool with a mexican flag wrapped around him. directly in front of you stands daniel ricciardo posing in different silly positions, much to the delight of the gossip magazine paparazzis that were probably having a field day photographing him. next to you, max ecstatically pulls on your dress and points to your left to the esports content creator, ludwig, who laughs loudly to your left as he banters with an excited looking man with a rather large microphone in hand. you haven’t really looked into ludwig’s content, but you often saw max watching his streams while you were in your online meetings, so if he liked ludwig, you guess you did too. 

you attempt to quickly pull max towards the top of the stairs towards the entrance to the gala in an effort to completely avoid doing your media duties, but you are unfortunately stopped within the next twenty seconds by your own interviewer, a lady in the brightest pink outfit you had ever seen in your life.

“heLLO!” the lady says rather enthusiastically. “danica patrick, reporting for tmz!”

“er, hi!” you respond, a little less enthusiastically. max, half-hidden behind you, gives a light wave to the camera. 

unperturbed, she flashes you both a toothy, unnaturally white smile at you both and places a microphone towards her glossy lips. 

“so, miss redbull ceo! it’s so nice to meet you!” she remarks, “and you look absolutely flawless today!” 

you give her and the camera a tight smile. 

“thank you,” you respond, as if you didn’t have two drops of sweat going down your neck and a slightly dirt-dusted gown from the sprint from your car. 

she nods, and then as if just realizing max’s presence, snatches him out from his half-hidden position behind you. 

“and you!” she exclaims, looking max up and down.  “you must be the boyfriend! max-” she checks her notes- “verstappen! yes, i’ve heard so much about you!” 

your boyfriend blinks at her, nervously twiddling the redbull pin that was pinned to his lapel. 

“okay,” he says after a beat of silence. 

the lady nods, and scribbles something down in her notes as if max had something absolutely life-changing, before turning back to you. 

“so, i’ve received the news that yesterday was max’s birthday,” she proclaims. “and i was just wondering what’d you guys did to celebrate! as a successful ceo, you must have went all out, huh?”

seriously? you think. what of question is this? you get to interview a ceo and this is the best thing you can come up with?

when you hesitate a second before answering, she probes, “rumor has it that you both went to bora bora yesterday...” 

as if it knew that today was your boyfriend’s birthday, the bright rays of the monaco sun shined a golden beam of light straight onto max’s hair, lighting the blondish-brown strands into a little halo around his head. even if it feels like a creep to just stare at his peaceful face, you can’t help but gaze a little too long at his pouty lips, long eyelashes, and light stubble. from the corner of your eye, you can see one of his devilish cats balancing precariously on the bedframe. you clock it as sassy, who you knew, unfortunately from experience, loved to pounce on max’s face in the morning when she was feeling a little hungry. sassy meows at you innocently before proceeding to crouch in a position, ready to pounce. jimmy watches at the end of the bed, doing absolutely nothing as you fight for your life trying to wave sassy away without waking up max. 

like the absolute devil sassy is, she leaps off the bedframe, claws extended, right at max. with your lightning quick reflexes that should earn you a seat in the redbull f1 team that your company sponsors, you snatch the bengal cat out of the air before she gets a chance to maul your boyfriend and send him to the emergency room on his birthday. 

she hisses at you, teeth bared, and you just about catapult her out of the open window next to the bed.

instead, you take a deep breath. you deduce that max probably wouldn’t like to wake up finding out that his cat was a pancake on the streets below his apartment, probably ran over by someone’s ferrari pista. instead, you opt for a less extreme “fuck you,” that you hiss right back at sassy. 

like he sensed someone threatening his baby, your boyfriend shifts around. 

“whadyou say?” max mutters from the pillows behind you.

you whip back to face your boyfriend, simultaneously shoving sassy away from you. 

max rubs his eyes sleepily and uses a hand to block the sun that now shines into his eyes. you try not to stare again at his eyes that light a warm whisky brown in the beams of sunlight that seep through his fingers. it cannot be legal to look this good.

“nothing,” you dismiss. 

leaping forward, you wrap your arms around him in a hug.

a surprised look crosses his face, but he leans into your embrace anyways. 

“do you know what day it is, maxie?” you ask, voice a little muffled from being pressed into the crook of his neck. 

max takes a shockingly long time to respond. 

“um… saturday?” he says slowly.

you give him a weird look. 

“well yes…but it’s also your birthday!” you exclaim.

“oh!” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “i totally forgot!”

“no way,” you say incredulously.

“yes way,” max replies, tucking you into his side with an arm around you. 

leave it up to your boyfriend to forget his own birthday. 

“well,” you state after a beat of silence of looking at the popcorn ceiling of his apartment. “good thing we still have, like, sixteen hours left to do whatever you want- and we basically have unlimited budget- so go crazy!” 

“hmm,” he says. 

“anywhere you’d like, really- bali, the hamptons, paris, dubai, maldives, bora bora,” you suggest helpfully. “or all of them?”

max thinks for second. 

“how about monaco?”

you blink confusedly. 

“so… right here?” 

“yeah,” he responds. 

you shrug. 

“sure, that’s fine too!”

deborah, or danica, or whatever her name was, babbles on as you and max stand on the stairs awkwardly.

“an inside source has also relayed to us that you might have bought your boyfriend an abt audi rs6, legacy edition for his birthday- an insanely rare and expensive car which only has 200 made in the entire world! 

an abt-legacy what? you can’t help but think, what the hell was that? 

once you get dolled up with your 12-step get-ready process and max pulls on his usual clothes (white shirt + unfortunate-looking skinny jeans), you both hop in max’s trusty little yellow renault clio rs. of course, like the cat lover he was, max refused to accept any expensive material gifts from you, and instead requested to visit the cat shelter as a birthday “gift.” you guess you would probably have to return the tag heuer watch in your bedside drawer that you had gotten him plus the keys to that yacht that was currently sitting in the monaco bay that you thought he would like. 

max whistles a cheerful tune as he types in the cat shelter address onto his phone’s navigation app as you try your best to think of the best way to approach your assistant and tell him to return the yacht that he might have spent the last week negotiating with some old rich prick to buy. his phone makes a small “ding” and prompts him to back out of the tiny garage underneath his apartment, which he does with surprising ease. the ride to the shelter is pretty smooth, except that tiny part where this dumb guy with an all-black ferrari with a red ‘16’ on the side runs the red light, almost t-bones your boyfriend, and then proceeds to stop diagonally in the middle of the road with the most rancid parking job. 

your boyfriend walks into the cat shelter with you in tow. he passes right past the front desk, waves to the man playing sudoku on his phone, and then proceeds navigates the halls like he’s been there a million times. (actually, he might have) you pass row after row of cats in little kennels that your boyfriend somehow knows the names of, before coming to a stop in front of a young lady filling little formula bottles with milk. she has at least three cats worth of cat fur all over her paw-print sweater.

“max!” she remarks, looking a little too thrilled to see him. “how are you? i haven't seen you since, like, last tuesday!” 

looking to you, her smile drops significantly. 

“oh, and… who is this?” 

“hi, i’m max’s girlfriend,” you articulate, answering her question. you reach your hand out to shake, but she pointedly ignores it. 

“great…” she says fakely. “um, so how may i help you guys?” 

max seems to not notice. instead, he has a wide smile pasted on his face. 

“well, it’s actually my birthday today, and i would like to spread kindness by making a donation to my favorite cat shelter!” he announces. 

ten minutes later, you find yourself signing a check that is made out for the ‘monaco meow manor.’ 

max twiddles his pen around his fingers.

“how much should i put it down as?” he asks, pen hovering above the empty line on the check.

you shrug. 

“i don’t know, it’s your birthday, maxie. you choose.” 

the lady who was obviously into max and the sudoku guy at the front eyes the both of you from their place at the front desk. 

you watch as max writes down a 3300 on the piece of paper. he glances at you quickly. when you raise an eyebrow at him, he turns back and adds two more zeroes at the end. but, then he proceeds to place the commas all wrong. 

“that says 3,300,00, max,” you say, pointing to the obviously misplaced commas. 

“oh,” he says. “i can’t really erase it- it’s pen.”

the lady, whose scowl has disappeared, and the guy, who sudoku puzzle has long been abandoned, whips around after hearing this number, jaws dropped. 

ignoring them, you take the pen from max’s hand. 

“here,” you say, adding another neat zero to the end of max’s blocky numbers so it reads 3,300,000. 

“okay, great, thanks!” your boyfriend says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

he then turns to the lady and hands her the check. 

“here’s the check. i hope all the kitties in here can all live long healthy lives and get everything they ever need!” 

the two people at the desk look like they are about to pass out. 

the lady clutches at the check with a white-knuckled hand and profusely thanks the pair of you. 

you fight the urge to roll your eyes. oh, now she pays attention to you. 

max, oblivious, beams, before taking your hand and leading you back out to his little yellow car. 

“helping the kitties- check!” he declares. 

you can’t help but smile and pull max into a searing kiss in front of the little cat shelter that was about to become the best-funded feline sanctuary in monaco, and most likely france too. 

you don’t even have a chance to respond to danica’s inquiry about the complicated-sounding car that you supposedly “bought” for max before she rambles on.

“i bet you bought your little boyfriend the most luxurious foods too!” she spouts. “wagyu beef, spaghetti with saffron, caviar- ooh! maybe a glass of moët?”

“i’m not telling youuuuu!” max trills, leaping around the tiny living room of his monaco apartment with his phone held high above his head. 

you don’t know whether to start raging in annoyance from your place on the scraggly carpet or to laugh at your boyfriend twirling on the lumpy sofa, phone screen purposely held away from you. jimmy only aggravates the situation by butting his head directly at your shin. 

“max! is it a crime to want know what we are going to eat for dinner??” you shout, exasperated. 

max somehow does a perfect pirouette off of the sofa (???) and smiles at you. 

“no, but it should be a crime to look so pretty,” he says, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. you try and bat him away, but he is faster. he leaps up, cackling, and bolts away. his apartment isn’t that big, just his kitchen, living room, and his single bedroom, so you take your time hoisting yourself off the carpet. you resist the urge to punt jimmy away from your shin like a football, and instead gingerly step over him before sprinting over to max’s bedroom. 

he awaits behind his bedroom door, and literally tackles you to his bed, pinning you underneath him.

its hard to stay mad at max when he’s giggling like a little kid and looking at you with those impossibly blue eyes that crinkled in the corners while he laughs. 

“i hate you,” you say with no heat. 

“mhm, i’m sure you do,” he says, all the sudden sobering up. he leans his head down and nips at your neck. 

you both know where this always leads. 

max’s white shirt disappears within seconds like the sight of a f1 car by the grandstands, and soon enough, yours does too. 

before you can do anything, though, the doorbell rings. 

your boyfriend pulls off of you, albeit hesitantly. 

“foods here, i guess,” he says, pulling his shirt back on like he wasn’t about to whip off his pants two seconds ago. 

you roll your eyes as max goes to fetch the food while you get presentable again. 

when you pad into the kitchen, you genuinely expect to see the world’s best chef tossing vegetables a meter in the air, considering how secretive max was about the birthday dinner you both were having. 

instead, max sits at the table with a ripped bag that displays a tell-tale green ubereats sticker, along with a few black plastic boxes that takes up half of the table space. 

your boyfriend rips the lids off with a flourish, showing you the contents. 

“my favoriteeeeeeee!” he chirps, gesturing to thin slices of beef carpaccio laid out prettily in the container, fragrant tomato soup in another plastic bowl, and two cupcakes.

it was kind of a weird combination, but hey, if max liked it, you weren’t gonna argue with it. 

you grab utensils for the both of you, and dig in. 

when the dregs of the tomato soup is all that's left in your bowl, the beef carpaccio is reduced to a few stray capers and lemon juice, and the wrapper is all that’s left of the cupcake, you lay back contently in your chair. 

“you know, “ you state, “i could’ve flyed in the best beef carpaccio maker in the world, the best tomato soup chef ever, and like, gordon ramsey for the cupcakes and had them make this for you.”

“eh,” he says, also laying back in his seat, feeling full and happy, “ubereats from the restaurant three blocks down is honestly just as good too.” 

danica was still not done. 

“the parties must have been wild for max's birthday, too!” she raves. “with your influence, i bet all the celebs were there! kim k, rihanna, carlos alcaraz, oprah winfrey, lebron james, johnny depp, billie ellish- shall i go on?

no, you think to yourself. no, you shouldn’t.

feeling content, you flop onto max’s bed. your boyfriend slides onto the mattress next to you, allowing you to snuggle into his soft body. you inhale the smell of his cologne, and a feeling of content drapes over your body like a warm blanket. 

“happy birthday, again, max,” you mutter, voice muffled in his chest. you slowly slide a hand suggestively into his shirt. 

“thanks,” he says. he pauses a moment before getting up, effectively making your hand drop out.  “i think i’d like to play a video game right now.”

“oh,” is all you can think to say. you loved your boyfriend very much, but sometimes he just could not understand context clues. 

“are you sure?” you ask as he sets up his gaming system, loading in f123. “we could do something else…” you trail off slowly, seeing if he could pick up what you were putting down. 

“yeah,” he says, eyes trained on the tv. he scrolls through a bunch of men in racing suits, and you spot a like, two with your company’s sign, big and bold, across their chest. huh, you kind of forgot your company sponsored f1. you squint your eyes at the white lettering displaying their names- sergio perez and daniel ricciardo. they seemed like pretty successful dudes, looking at their stats. max clicks on daniel’s profile, and jumps back onto the bed next to you as the loading screen pops up, still oblivious to your intentions. 

he let him zoom through a track named mug jello or something like that for the better half of an hour before making another move, since it was his birthday, after all. 

“do you want to watch netflix and... chill?” you suggest, nudging max. 

“one second,” he responds, as the stopwatch thing at the side of the screen turns entirely purple. a checkered flag fills the screen, and the guy with the redbull racing suit appears, drinking champagne out of a shoe. “woohoo!” he says, beaming down at you, who has now draped yourself over his lap. “i won!”

you blink at him. how was being in his lap not obvious enough?

“oh, yeah, sure, we can watch a movie.” he says hurriedly, misjudging the seriously? look on your face. 

max gently moves you out of his lap as he changes the tv channels to netflix. 

when he turns back around, you have your shirt off, sitting suggestively on the bed. 

your boyfriend laughs. 

“is it really that hot in the room? i can turn on the ac if you want,” he offers helpfully. 

reaching over, he opens his window, effectively blasting your semi-naked body with a blast of cold monaco wind that frequented the coast at night. you swear to god, if you get sick tomorrow-

you finally give up your attempts after max switches on a film called “crazy rich asians.” you snuggle into him innocently as the movie starts, and honestly, the beginning is kind of good. 

you are right in the middle of the scene where the movie’s main character, rachel, is getting a makeover by her friend, peik lin, and her ridiculous family when you catch max staring at you.

“hey, baby,” he whisper-yells, nudging you. 

“mmm?” you respond, fully intrigued as Rachel tries on dress after dress. 

“do you want to..?” 

you don’t really comprehend what he is saying as you are too focused on an intense emotional scene that pops up on the screen. 

“huh?” you say distractedly.

max’s mouth latches to your neck. 

you manage to tear your eyes away from the screen to realize what max is doing. 

oh.

you notice are still shirtless and your boyfriends hands were now wandering to places that were not so family-friendly. 

damn it, you curse silently, the movie was just getting good!

still, you can’t help to give in to max’s urges.

pretty soon, the screen glazes over in black. a prompt pops up: are you still watching?

the brunette interviewer beams at you and max, awaiting a response. the microphone that she holds is shoved a little too close to your face for comfort. seeing your silent form, her face drops into a scowl.

“no comment?” she sniffs in disdain. 

turning to max, she prods the microphone towards his lips. 

“you?” she snaps.

your boyfriend shrugs.

“all i can say is that my birthday yesterday was simply lovely.”

taglist: @sunny44 @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @xjval @fellowwomenlover @ironmaiden1313

@phobiccneel @comicalivy @amz824 @gloriousartisanpastacroissant @mastermindbaby

[thewritingrowlet]

The Heart-lifter, ft. Red Velvet Seulgi

tags: blowjob, anal teasing, first time anal

length: 10k

author's note: This fic was built on an idea sent by an anon, and this is a good opportunity to say that even though you can send ideas (complete with a plot or not), I decide whether I'll write it, and if I do end up writing it, I get to decide the way the plot progresses. I hope that won't discourage people from submitting their ideas.

-

Seulgi lowers the bill of her cap as she eyes this convenience store for the perfect opportunity for a quick in-and-out snatch.

“Fuck, am I really doing this?” Different versions of this question have been running amuck in her head, and for a good reason, too: Seulgi used to be standing on stage with bright lights shining on her, but ever since her agency folded, she was forced to do things that she normally wouldn’t (i.e. stealing) just so that she can get her hands on most-needed daily essentials.

Seulgi’s heart races: what if she gets caught? What if the police get involved? What if— “Ah, fuck it, I don’t have any other options.” Her good conscience tries so hard to convince her that there are other options, but no matter how much it’s trying to make Seulgi stop, she simply won’t, and as she’s approaching the shop, she puts on a mask and zips up her jacket to conceal herself better.

Once she’s in, she takes a few laps around the shop and takes mental notes of where the desired items are: soju is in the glass fridge at the back, pads and soaps are on the shelves in a nearby aisle, and finally, makeup are on the shelves across in the same aisle. “Do I want snacks as well?” Seulgi tries to estimate the size of the items she wants since they will all need to fit around her body, inside the jacket that’s not too big to begin with. “Maybe I can fit a pack of Oreo or two,” she thinks.

She stands in front of the big fridge, and the way the glass door is showing her reflection makes her question herself once more. Seulgi’s eyes wander off her target and shift towards her feet. “Fuck, mama would be so sad if she knew about this.”

“Excuse me, miss,” a voice snaps her out of her trance, “I want to grab something, so can you please move a little?” Her first instinct is to say sorry and step back, but she manages to stop herself from speaking just in time. There’s a possibility that this woman might recognize her based on hearing her voice, so she simply nods and moves away from the fridge.

Seulgi takes a momentary shelter in an aisle that’s full of instant noodles. Her eyes happen to land on a pack of instant carbonara ramen that she loves. “I used to be able to afford boxes of this thing at once,” she thinks as she holds one in the air. She hears the fridge’s door closing and guesses that the woman is done grabbing whatever. “Alright, let’s not second-guess this.”

With renewed certainty, she makes her way back to the fridge and, without thinking twice, snatches a bottle of soju. After hiding it inside her jacket, she proceeds to go to another aisle to get some sanitary products. Seulgi has half a dozen items hidden underneath her jacket now, and as tempting as it is to get more stuff, she doesn’t want to risk it even further. “That’s it for now.” Seulgi fast-walks towards the exit, and as luck would have it, a bunch of other people are also about to exit, so if the alarms were to trip, no one would be able to point at her directly.

True enough, the shop’s alarms start blaring as soon as she walks out of the door, but she stays calm so that people won’t be too suspicious. Seulgi immediately makes a left turn into an alley, and that is when she starts running, hugging herself tightly as she does to prevent the stolen items from falling out. “C’mon, Kang Seulgi; you can make it home safely.”

-

“Thank you so much, miss,” you say as you take a cup of hot chocolate and a triangle kimbap from the server. “Of course, sir—come back again soon!” With a smile, you step away from the register and make your way towards the exit.

You take a sip from the paper cup, and your body immediately feels the warmth from the hot chocolate that serves as a salvation on this cold night. “Oh my God, that’s so good.” You set your hot chocolate on the hood of your car so that you can shift your attention to this warm triangle on your other hand.

“Alright, let’s see if their spicy tuna is actually spicy,” you say to yourself as you free the kimbap of its packaging. The taste of the first bite makes you let out a sigh of satisfaction; not only is the tuna filling properly spicy, but it’s also very flavorful. “I’m about to fucking bust from this,” you think.

You pull out your phone and take a picture of the café’s exterior— “Oh, I’m so sorry.” You turn around to see who just hit you. “Are you okay, miss?” You can’t see her face, but she gives you some rapid nods. You’re a little surprised when you see some soaps falling out of her jacket. “Let me grab that for you, miss.”

You bend down and pick up the soaps, but her hands are too busy hugging herself when you’re trying to hand them back. “C-can you put them in my front pockets, please?” You finally hear the woman’s voice. “Sure.” You lift the tabs that are covering her pockets and fill each pocket with a bar of soap.

“Here—" You hear a short static from your earpiece, thus interrupting your speech. “Unit 318, 10-40. 10-20, 102 South Boulevard. 10-21, complainant reports of a theft from the shop they’re working at. 10-12, await further information.” You keep your eyes on the woman as you wait for the rest of the call. “10-35, suspect is a female, wearing a brown jacket and a cap of similar color.”

The call finishes right as the woman begins walking away from you, but you manage to halt her by gripping her shoulder. “Not so fast, miss��wait a moment, please?” You lift the left side of your coat to talk into the radio hidden underneath it. “This is unit 318—10-4, will respond directly to South Boulevard.”

You pull her closer towards your car, and that is when you see that she’s shaking. “Are you cold, miss?” She simply shakes her head to your question, still not making eye contact with you. You’re quite confident that the call was about this woman who’s standing right in front of you, but obviously you can’t just arrest people based on gut feelings alone, so, “Miss, I have some questions for you, so please get in the car.”

With little resistance, the woman enters your car from the back door that you’re opening for her and takes a seat in the back of your police car. Once she’s seated comfortably, you sit on the driver’s seat and lock the doors. “Miss,” your voice is stern as intended, “will you please tell me your business, or do I need to take you back to the station first?” “D-do I not have t-the right to remain silent?” You nod as you turn on your siren. “Well, the station it is.”

You haven’t driven too far from the spot of arrest when the woman cracks. “O-officer,” she calls to you, “I-I give up—look, I-I’ll confess.” You make a quick stop on the side of the road. “Yes?” From the rear-view mirror, you see that the woman lets go of her jacket, and you see the pile of items hidden underneath it.

“I-I took some stuff from a convenience store.” You try to stay focused despite her curves that have been exposed to your eyes. “Those are daily necessities, aren’t they, miss?” She nods. “I-I don’t have money, sir, s-so I took them.” “You’re aware that it’s a crime, aren’t you?” She nods again. “P-please, officer, I-I need these things.” You sigh as you think about—wait, what is there to think about? It’s obvious that she has committed a crime. “Look, let’s get to the station first—we can talk more there.” “No, no, no—officer, please!”

You’re surprised to see that the woman has taken off her cap and mask. “Huh, I’ve seen you somewhere,” you mindlessly comment, “wait, you’re Kang Seulgi—you’re a celebrity, aren’t you?” The woman promptly breaks eye contact. “I-I was, officer; m-my agency went bankrupt.” “So, you had to shoplift to get stuff?” She nods. “I-I’m sorry, I-I should’ve known better.” You palm your forehead, oddly stressed about the fact that a celebrity (formerly, as she claims) has committed theft for such simple items.

“Can you keep a secret, Miss Kang, because I’m about to put my career on the line for you.” You’re a little startled when you feel her wrapping her arms around you from the back seat. “Of course I can, officer; I swear on everything that I’ll keep this between you and me.” You chuckle, and it might have come across as suspicious. “You don’t even know what I’m about to do, do you?” “W-well, that’s true,” she takes a moment to think, “y-you’re not going to rape me, are you, officer?” You’ve never heard something that absurd in your life before, especially in your career in the police force. “No, I’m not—are you out of your mind?”

You turn your head to the side so that you can see her in your peripheral vision. “We’re going to go back to the store and return those items,” you start, “after that, we’re going to go to another store, and I’ll buy you whatever you need.” Seulgi wraps her arms more tightly around you. “Yes, officer—thank you so much!”

You start driving again when Seulgi lets go of the hug. “I’m so fucking cooked,” you think, “can’t believe I’d see a celebrity shoplift.” “Officer,” you hear her say, “c-can I ask what your name is?” You nod. “Kang Hyunwoo, Criminal Investigation,” you briefly introduce yourself, “my family knows me better as Aiden, though; I’m of foreign descent, you see.” “We have the same last name?” You nod again. “That’s how it’s intended for us.”

-

Before long, you arrive at the store Seulgi stole from. “Wait here, okay?” You don’t wait for an answer and hop out of the car with the stolen goods in your hands. “Excuse me, excuse me,” you say as you make your way towards the front of the line. “Hello, my name is Kang Hyunwoo from the Metropolitan Police,” you introduce yourself to the staff, “I’m not too familiar with your system, but I’m here to return the stolen items.” The staff thanks you for your help and tries giving you a shopping voucher, but you politely decline. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” you say.

 You quickly return to your car, and you’re glad to see that Seulgi didn’t drive away with your government-issued car. “You know, officer,” she says, “it was bold of you to leave a criminal alone in a running car—I could’ve driven away.” You chuckle. “I trust you more than I’d like to admit, Seulgi-yah.”

It is when you get in your seat that you realize that you might have been too friendly with her. “Anyway,” you clear your throat, “we still have some business at the station.” Seulgi’s face turns sour. “I-I thought you were going to buy me some stuff?” “Sorry, but that was a bait.” Seulgi gulps to swallow the anxiety that’s stuck in her throat. “C-can you just not let me go?” You shake your head. “I’m afraid not.”

“Daddy, please.”

You immediately turn your head towards her. “What did you just say?” “Please don’t turn me in, daddy,” she puts quite the emphasis on the name, thus making your jaw drop. “What the fuck are you talking about—why are you calling me that?” Seulgi takes off her jacket, thus exposing the tight-fit top that she’s wearing and showing you her perfect curves. “Give me a chance to change your mind, daddy—it’ll be worth your time, I swear.” “You’re not giving up your body to escape the law, are you?” Seulgi leans closer towards you, giving you a peek into her cleavage. “No, daddy; I’m giving up my body for you.”

“Goodness me,” you think. You’re oddly and seriously debating whether you’d turn a blind eye to crime in favor of sleeping with the criminal who happens to be a celebrity. “You’re dangerous, Miss Kang.” Seulgi shakes her head in protest. “Stop talking so formally, daddy; I’m yours for tonight, y’know.” You’re so unfocused that you press the ignition button again and shut off the running car. “Heh, I can tell when a guy is sold on an idea.” With red cheeks, you turn on the car again and immediately start driving. “We’re going to my place, baby.” “Oh, that’s exactly what I want, daddy—you’re going to take me to your place and fuck me until the sun rises again.”

-

“Wear your cap and jacket again, Seulgi-yah,” you’ve dropped the formality with her, “wouldn’t want to be seen running around with a cop, would you?” Seulgi looks at you blankly, making you confused. “Yes?” She shakes her head. “Nothing.” She puts on her identity concealment instruments as you’ve requested and follows you towards your apartment.

Seulgi quickly lets out a wow as she enters your apartment. “What a nice apartment.” You chuckle. “I’m sure a celebrity like you lives in a better place than this.” “I used to—not anymore, though,” she corrects you. “Fallen from grace, huh?” You say it with your back turned around, so you miss the way Seulgi’s face turns sour when she hears your words, only catching it when you look at her again.

You move to stand in front of her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that.” Seulgi shows you a pretty smile. “It’s okay; I got what you meant.” She tries to hug you but gets confused when she doesn’t feel the shape of your body, thus tapping your body to figure out what’s wrong. “There’s some equipment underneath my jacket, baby,” you let the name slip out. Seulgi chuckles. “Yeah, should’ve thought about that first.”

You step away from her so that you can take off your jacket, and when it’s off, Seulgi can see your handgun and a pair of handcuffs that you keep on each side of the shoulder holster. “Ah, so those were in the way,” she says, and you simply nod is response. “Let me sort this out first, and then I’ll come back to you, okay?”

You unload your firearm and put it in the safe along with the magazine after making sure there is no bullet in the chamber. After that, you hang your jacket and holster on the wall hooks behind the bedroom door.

“Alright, so, what now?” You invite Seulgi to sit on the sofa. “You’re here right now because you want to escape the law, and to do that, you want to offer your body to me,” you don’t bother sugarcoating your words. “You don’t have to be so crass, though,” she says in a sad tone. You slowly reach for her knee, placing your hand on it. “I’m sorry; I’ve never been good with words.”

Your heart jumps a little when Seulgi places her hand on yours. “I wish we could talk—y’know, about ourselves.” “I mean, we can,” you say, “I’m off-duty right now, so at the moment, this is your safe space, and you’re safe with me.” She lets out a chuckle. “Didn’t you try to arrest me just minutes ago?” You also let out a chuckle. “Well, that was Officer Kang Hyunwoo from the Metropolitan Police—at this moment, I’m just 32-year-old Kang Hyunwoo.” “Oh, you’re 32? My group’s leader is 33,” she says. You laugh. “I know—I mean, your group was famous.”

Joyfulness disappears from Seulgi’s face, and in turn, it disappears from yours as well. “Unnie would be so disappointed if she heard about this.”  “I wish you hadn’t tried all that, and I’m not saying this as a law enforcer.” “What was I supposed to do, though? Should have I just asked someone to buy stuff for me?” “Honestly, I would’ve bought those things for you.”

Your heartrate jumps again when Seulgi puts her head on your shoulder. “Will you date me?” Her question doesn’t help you calm down. “S-sorry?” “I promise I’ll be a good girl for you, oppa,” she pulls out a new endearment for you. You fight the hesitation in your head and wrap an arm around her shoulder. “I have no question that you’re a good girl, but don’t you think you deserve someone better?" “Are you not a good person, oppa?” “I think I’m alright—I’m not perfect, you know.” “We can’t chase perfection in this world, oppa, especially when it comes to falling in love.”

It doesn’t take too much to make up your mind. “So, girlfriend, hey?” Seulgi grins. “I mean, I could be yours if you’d let your guard down and let me enter your heart.” You take a few deep breaths as you get ready to say this sentence that your brain has come up with, and with every second passing, you can feel conviction filling your head rather rapidly.

“I love you.”

You’ve never been so nervous to say such a short sentence before.

“Say it again?”

“I love you, baby—I love you with all my heart.”

Seulgi lifts her head off your shoulder and looks at you in the eyes. “I love you too, oppa, and thank you for the sweet words.”

You hesitantly reach for her chin, hoping that she’ll let you kiss her. “I know what you want, oppa.” She slaps your hand away and comes in quickly for a kiss, and right now, all you can think about is how soft her lips are.

Seulgi finds your hand without looking and guides it towards her tits. “Touch me here,” she softly whispers, and you’re eager to do just that. The cream top she’s wearing is so soft to the touch, and combine that with her perfect-sized tits, it feels like you’re dreaming—never in your life have you ever thought about being able to do this with someone like her.

Having had enough of your lips, Seulgi breaks the tangle. “Oppa,” she calls to you, “promise me this isn’t a one-night thing.” You shake your head, but gesture alone isn’t enough for Seulgi as she demands a verbal answer. “No, baby, it’s not a one-night stand; I want to be with you until you’re sick of me.” She laughs. “I won’t get sick of you ever, oppa, so we’ll stay together forever.” You peck her on the lips. “I like the sound of that, baby.”

Seulgi moves to sit on your lap; her crotch is grinding right against yours but blocked by the pants that each of you are wearing. “You know,” she says, “you’re so fucking hot—so fucking manly.” You laugh internally, because what does she mean you’re “manly.” “You’re so fucking hot too, baby.” “Yeah, oppa?” You’re getting hard as Seulgi grinds her crotch against yours. “Shit, haven’t you looked at yourself in the mirror?” She smirks, satisfied with your answer. “I wonder how you’ll react when I’m naked, oppa.” “Then let’s find out, baby,” you whisper right into her ear.

As horny as you are, you don’t forget to ask for consent if you can take her to the bedroom, and only after she says yes that you lift her by her thighs and make your way there. “Do you sleep with girls often, oppa?” You shake your head. “I haven’t gotten in a relationship in years, actually.” “You must have a huge load for me, huh?” “You know it, baby.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed with Seulgi on your lap. “Hey, baby,” your tone is relaxed and soft, “look, before we start—” She interrupts you by placing a finger on your lips. “I consent, I want to be with you, and I love you.” You chuckle. “Well, that will do the trick.”

Seulgi lets her jacket fall onto the floor, and only now that you can see her curves properly. “My fucking God,” you exclaim, “fuck, I wish I had the words for this.” “I’m not even naked yet.” “Yeah, well, what are you waiting for?” She slaps your chest lightly. “I’m waiting for you to shut up.”

Your jaw drops when Seulgi takes off her top; her tummy looks so firm, her tits that are covered in black tight bra look so soft and full, and her neck looks like the perfect spot for hickeys. “God damn,” you wipe the drool off your lips, “aren’t you God’s most perfect creation.” She slaps you in the chest again. “Normally, I wouldn’t tolerate someone talking about me like that, but you’re my exception tonight.” Your eyes that have been roaming wildly all over her body shift to meet hers. “Just tonight? I thought we wanted to keep seeing each other?” “Well, actually,” she puts up a finger, “whether we can see each other again will depend on your, erm, performance.”

You have Seulgi sit on the bed so that you can undress. “My performance, huh?” You can see a mix of excitement and nervousness in her face. “I’ll show you.” You quickly get rid of your clothes, thus allowing Seulgi to have a look at the excellent physique you’ve maintained for God-knows-how-long. “Goodness me,” she bites her bottom lip sexily, “so that’s what you’ve been hiding from me.”

Seulgi stands closely in front of you and places her hands on your shoulders. “May I?” You express your consent with a nod, and that is when she begins running her hands all over your torso. “Do these girls know that you’re this sexy, because they’re missing out big time.” You chuckle. “I’m the sole reason that I’m not in a relationship—those women out there have nothing to do with it.” “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

Seulgi’s eyes land on your cock. “Oh, speaking of big,” she reaches for the half-erect, half-limp shaft that’s dangling between your legs. “Say, how many girls have you torn in half with this, oppa, hm?” You laugh as your ego inflates. “You’d be the second.” It’s Seulgi’s turn to laugh. “You’re underestimating me if you think that I won’t be able to take you.”

Your heart beats faster when Seulgi kneels in front of you while her hands are still wrapped around your cock. “Oh, this will be a tight fit,” she comments. Before taking you in her mouth, she stretches her mouth first, making these funny expressions as she does. She catches you grinning and hits you on the thigh. “Don’t.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I know that face—that’s the I-can’t-wait-to-fuck-this-girl face.” You shrug. “I mean, can you blame me?”

Seulgi doesn’t answer your question with words and instead parts her mouth to let your cock in, and the first contact makes your knees weak. “Oh, God, baby,” you’re running out of breath already. You gasp sharply when more of your shaft enters her mouth, and it’s getting really difficult to stay upright. You feel her soft hands on your thighs as she fights her gag reflex to get as much of your length in her mouth as she can.

The gurgling sound that enters your ears when Seulgi removes you from her mouth is nasty but arousing. “D-did you like that, daddy?” You nod feebly. “You want to fuck my face, or no?” You take a few deep breaths to collect yourself. “No, baby; I don’t want to do it rough on our first date.” Seulgi shows you this gorgeous combination of lip and eye smile that you’re seeing for the first time tonight. “That’s sweet of you.”

You pull her onto her feet and invite her to lie in bed with you. “Can I ask how many guys have been rough with you?” “One,” she says. “I hope it wasn’t on your first date.” She smiles a little. “It was, but not on the first round.” You stay silent as your eyes are locked with hers. “What’s wrong, oppa?” The smile on your face is a gentle one. “I just can’t see myself going hard on you, baby; I feel like you deserve soft sex all the time.”

Seulgi rubs your face gently. “That’s sweet, but you have nothing to worry about; I can take whatever you send my way.” “Vanilla is what I’m sending your way tonight, baby.” Seulgi chuckles, and the way it hits your face makes you shiver. “You’re going to make me cry if you keep talking like that.” You place a hand on her cheek and rub it with your thumb. “I swear on everything I have, baby, that you’ll be crying for all the right reasons with me.”

“I’ll hold you to that, my love.”

With a warm heart, you pull her into a kiss, and you wholeheartedly hope that Seulgi can feel the tender love you have for her.

“Take me, love; make me yours,” she whispers softly. You roll over so that you’re on top of her. “Your pants are in the way,” you crack a little joke, and you’re successful in making her laugh. “Do something about it, please—pretty please?” “Oh, you’re pretty, alright.”

You move backwards a bit until her crotch is right in front of your face. “May I?” “Yes, you may.” You unlatch the metal button of her pants and undo the zipper. You then continue to drag her pants down her legs until they’re properly off. Seulgi also cooperates by taking off her panties—that has a wet spot in the center—herself.

You give her pussy a little peck (thus earning a cute little moan) before returning to your previous position on top of her. “Show me how much you love me.” You peck her on the lips once. “Gladly, baby.”

With your cock in one hand, you guide yourself to enter her warm pussy, and Seulgi immediately lets out a long moan because of the first contact. “You make me feel like this is my first time, oppa.” “With me, this is your first time, and I’ll be your last because you’re not leaving me ever.” “Are you that sure about us?” “Yes, baby, so God help me.”

You see that Seulgi’s dams are threatening to burst, so before it does, you distract her by pushing your cock deep into her. “I’ll be the best girlfriend for you, oppa—no one else deserves me like you do.” You silence her with a soft shush. “Let’s focus on us right now, baby.”

Seulgi holds you tightly, locking you in place close to her but still gives you enough space to keep moving your hips. She wants to express how safe and loved she feels in your arms, but her lips are busy moaning. “I know you can’t hear me, but I love you,” her heart says. “I know you can’t hear me, but I want to be with you for a long, long time.” A particularly deep thrust disrupts her train of thoughts, making her hide her face in the crook of your neck. “I love you, Kang Hyunwoo—I love you so much.”

At one point in her life, Seulgi heard that the heart controls the mind, and the mind controls the body. Right now, all her heart wants is to show you just how much she appreciates you—how much she appreciates this new relationship that she’s building with you. Without too much convincing, her mind agrees with the idea and, in turn, signals to her body that she’s highly enjoying this hot sensuality you’re offering her.

“L-love,” she calls to you, “I-I won’t last long.” “That’s fine, baby.” Your deep voice in which your reply is said sends goosebumps all over her body. “I don’t want you to last too long anyway,” she hears you say. “Y-you don’t?” Seulgi feels a sudden peck on her lips. “You finishing early would mean that you could feel my love, and that’s what I’m aiming for right now.”

Seulgi’s moans become more frequent as she inches closer to the checkered line. “Love me, oppa—love me, love me,” she chants into your ears. She gets ecstatic when the pace of your thrusts grows faster. “Yes, just like that, oppa.”

“Can you feel that?”

"Damn right I can.”

“Then give it to me, oppa; I deserve it.”

“Oh, yes, you do.”

Seulgi is the first one to crack, announcing her orgasm with a scream from the top of her lungs. “Oh, what an amazing girl,” you praise her while petting her head gently. “You’re such an amazing girl, aren’t you, baby?” She keeps squirming around in your arms as she rides the high of orgasm, moaning freely as she does.

You keep whispering sweet words as you wait for her to calm down, and finally, after what felt like forever, she’s now able to speak coherently again. “I-I love you,” she’s out of breath now, “I-I want no one else but you.” You spray kisses all over her sweaty face. “I love you more, baby.” Seulgi giggles a little. “Y-you’ll give me your load if you really love me.” “One second, baby; let’s calm down first.”

Soon, Seulgi signals that she’s ready to help you get to the finish line and asks that you resume your thrusts. “Don’t forget to cum inside, love.” Initially, you hesitate, but she repeats the line, and it’s clear that you have no other option. “As you wish, baby.”

Apparently, you were only a few pumps away from orgasm, thus busting deep into her after a handful of them. “Oh, fuck, that’s so warm.” You hit her cheek very, very gently. “No profanity during vanilla, please.” “S-sorry, b-but you’re so warm in me, love.” You kiss her fleetingly. “That’s just how much I love you.”

-

“The court hereby orders the defendant to pay 200.000 in fine and do 10 hours of community service.” The judge slams her hammer on the round pad repeatedly, thus officially passing the sentence for Seulgi’s crime that thankfully has been deemed as minor after considering the severity of it and her previously clean record. “The officer may escort the defendant out of the courtroom.”

You make your way towards your girlfriend as she stands up and place a hand on her cuffs. “Time to go, miss,” you whisper. Seulgi simply nods and starts walking to wherever you’re taking her.

You see that there’s an empty room on the first floor of the courthouse, so you open the door and enter with Seulgi. You take your hat off and put it on the table while she takes a seat on one of the available chairs. “Love, I can’t pay that,” you can already hear the anxiety and fear in her voice, “shit, had I had money, I wouldn’t have stolen.”

There’s no CCTV in this room, but there are see-through glass panes on the wall to your right, so you can’t touch her no matter how much you want to.

“I have money, baby.” You’re sure that Seulgi understands what you’re talking about.

“B-but I can’t do that.”

“You either take my money or go to jail for failing to pay—the choice is yours.”

It doesn’t take long for Seulgi to make up her mind.

“Erm, I-I’ll take your money; I don’t think I have other options.”

Now that the two of you have come to an agreement, you ask Seulgi to stand up again so that you can take her to the bank to pay her fine. You maintain character from the moment you exit the little meeting room until you’re hidden in the privacy of the police Sonata you’re assigned to.

“So, here’s the game plan, baby,” you start, “I will give you this card, and you’ll withdraw 200.000 and use it to pay the fine.” You don’t see her reaching out a hand, and that is when you remember that her hands are still cuffed behind her back. “Oh, I forgot about that—I’ll let you go when we get to the bank, okay?” Seulgi laughs. “I was starting to think that you had a bondage kink.” You look away to hide your smirk. “Maybe we’ll find out soon.”

-

After a short drive, you arrive at the bank with Seulgi.

You look at her through the rear-view mirror; with her wrists restrained behind her back, you have unrestricted view of her plump tits that you love so much. “I know you’re looking at my tits, you pervert,” she calls you out and sticks out her tongue in playful mockery. “You know I can’t keep my hands off the cookie jar.”

You get out of the car and open Seulgi’s door—wait, why does she look weak?

“You alright?”

She shakes her head, and you can’t help but scratch your head in confusion.

“I need some vitamin D, and I’m not talking about the substance.”

“Then let’s go in there, pay this God damn fine, and go home, hm?”

“I can’t,” she shifts a little to show you her bound wrists, “daddy is tying me down.”

You pinch her on the thigh.

“Let’s not play around too much right now, Miss Kang.”

After freeing Seulgi from the cuffs, you hand her your card and head inside, and you almost forgot that you can’t be seen holding hands with her while you're in uniform.

“Good afternoon,” Seulgi greets the staff member, “my name is Kang Seulgi, and I’m here to pay a fine.” The staff asks Seulgi about some things to confirm her identity and the sum that needs to be paid, and after everything is verified, Seulgi hands your card to the staff so that the payment can be processed. After a brief moment, “The payment has been verified, and this is your receipt.” From where you’re standing, you notice the way Seulgi’s body relaxes as she takes the receipt and card from the staff. “Thank you.”

Seulgi sighs deeply in relief and offers her wrists to be cuffed again, but at this point, it’s no longer necessary—in fact, it hasn’t been necessary since you left the courthouse, but she doesn’t know that. “You’re free to go, Miss Kang,” you say, back in character. “Oh, really? Is that it?” You nod. “Aside from the community service, you are now a free woman.”

Seulgi asks you to follow her outside, and it appears that she wants to get back in the car for some privacy.

“Love,” she calls to you from the back seat, “thank you for everything, seriously.” You smile gently. “Of course, baby; now promise me that you won’t steal again, okay? Come to me whenever you need anything, and I mean anything.”

Your heart is promptly filled with warmth when she hugs you from behind. “Never thought I’d date a cop, but here I am.” You chuckle. “I bet you thought that you’d end up with some rich guy.” “No,” she denies, “those guys are fake; they probably just want my money or my body.” “I mean, you do have a body that guys would kill just to have a chance to lay with you.” “Yeah, well, they’re not getting me ever—I’m yours now, remember?”

-

Usually, you have nothing to be excited about or look forward to when you get home after a shift, but now that you have Seulgi living with you full time, you’re always excited to go home, and it is no different today.

The way your heart is beating with excitement has your finger trembling as you enter the passcode to your apartment, and when you open the door, you’re instantly met with your girlfriend who has the beautiful grin and eye smile that you adore so much.

“Welcome home, love!” Seulgi greets you with open arms, and you waste little time to fill the space between them. “How was your day?” You let out a deep sigh to show how tired you are. “It was pretty exhausting, actually; I had to train shooting and worked out after that.” Seulgi turns her head to the side and gestures at the kitchen. “I may have some food for you.”

Seulgi drags you towards the dining table, thus showing you the table that has two bowls of tteokbokki on it. Based on how it’s presented, you estimate that she must’ve cooked this herself. “Oh my, thanks a lot, baby.” She gets on her tippy toes to peck you on the forehead. “Thank you for coming home—your timing was perfect, by the way.” “I’ve heard that before in my life.”

Seulgi pulls back a chair for you to sit on. “Let’s eat quickly, love, and then we’ll talk.” Your heart rate spikes for a moment. “Am I in trouble?” She shrugs. “I don’t know—are you?” “I don’t think so, but maybe I’ve missed something.”

You stare blankly at the bowl in front of you as you try to figure out if you’ve done anything wrong. Currently, there are two things in your head that might be the reason why she’s unhappy: you forgot to buy some eggs and instant noodles that she had asked for yesterday, and on the following morning, you rejected her offer to do a quick one.

Seulgi saves you from drowning in your own thoughts by placing her hands on yours. “Hey, now,” her voice is so soft, “I was just playing, love; you’re not actually in trouble. “I’ll buy you those eggs after this,” you blurt, and the suddenness of it makes your girlfriend burst out laughing. “Oh, don’t worry about them.”

She picks up a piece of tteokbokki with her chopsticks and invites you to do the same, so you do just that. There’s a bit of unease in the back of your mind that leads you to scratching your nape. “Thank you,” are the first words that leave your lips, and those are enough to make Seulgi smile. “You’re welcome, love,” she replies.

Like a cat, you shake your head rather violently to get rid of unnecessary thoughts in your head, and with renewed focus, you’re ready to take a bite of tteokbokki that you already know will blow your socks off. “Oh, I really like this, baby; this is really good,” you praise the fruit of her work. Seulgi blushes a little. “You always say that to everything I cook for you.” “You know how easy it is to please me—give me anything edible and I’ll say it’s good.” “But not eggplant.” “Anything but eggplant, yes.”

-

Seulgi says she wants to get a shower before going to bed, so after washing dishes with you, she makes her way towards the bathroom. “Join me,” she says as she jogs towards her destination. “Gladly.” You take the chance to undress yourself and put your equipment away while she’s off doing her business in the bathroom.

The door to the bathroom isn’t shut all the way, so you simply push it open, and that is when you see Seulgi standing under the shower, water flowing freely on her curves from top to bottom. After stopping the flow of water, she makes a “come here” gesture at you, and you waste little time to get close to her. “My, aren’t you God’s most perfect creation,” she recites your words from the first meeting. “Is it safe to say that we’re going to completely spend our batteries tonight and wake up late tomorrow?” Seulgi laughs. “You rejected me yesterday, didn’t you, love?” You answer in the form of a nod. “So, this is your chance to make things right with me, and you may start now.”

You take a few steps forward, thus making Seulgi step backwards until she’s pressed against the wall. “Vanilla, baby?” “No, daddy.” The name makes it obvious what she wants from you. “Safe word?” “Teddy.” You reject her choice because it sounds too similar to the kinky name. “Cookie, then.”

After agreeing on the choice of safe word, you quickly lean in for a kiss to kick things off, and as usual, Seulgi places her hands on your shoulders. “Tell me, daddy—what’s in that head of yours?” It’s a habit between the two of you to share each other’s plans before the actual sex to make sure you and her are on the same page. “Tell me your ideas first, baby.” Seulgi puts a finger on her chin. “Hmm, let’s see,” you can see the gears in her head spinning, “what about locking my wrists together, daddy?” You’re immediately sold on the idea. “Let’s do it, then.”

Seulgi gets down on her knees. “First, feed me your cock, daddy.” You hold your cock in one hand. “Choo-choo, the meat train is coming through.” Seulgi, who initially had her mouth open to take your cock, bursts out laughing. “Meat train? Really?” You pout a little. “Just play along, please.” “You’re so funny sometimes, daddy.”

“Only some—oh, God, fuck.”

You let out a profanity when Seulgi suddenly puts your cock in her mouth. “Oh, God, that never gets old.” You try your hardest to breathe at a normal pace as she begins moving her head along your length, and this is where you start regretting your decision to reject her offer to have sex yesterday. “Are you trying to make me pay for saying no, baby?” You grit your teeth in pain when she bites your cock slightly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You notice that she’s starting to pick up the pace, so you put a hand on the back of her head to prevent her from hitting the wall. “Relax, baby; you’re going to make me bust if you don’t slow down.” She doesn’t listen to you and keeps the fast pace—at least that’s the case until the tip of your cock hits an odd spot in her throat, thus making her gag. As soon as you pull out of her mouth, Seulgi begins coughing violently. “You’re okay, baby,” you say repeatedly while petting her head softly.

“100 days together and I still can’t take you deep,” she says, seemingly disappointed in herself. “That’s okay; I’m not mad or anything like that,” you assure her, but it appears that she doesn’t want to hear it. “That doesn’t mean that I get to slack off,” she argues. You deny her attempt at taking you in her mouth for the second time by gripping her hair. “No, no, no, let’s have a timeout first.”

You leave Seulgi seated on the bathroom floor to get a towel to dry her body with. “You want to move, don’t you, daddy?” You nod. “You’re my girlfriend, so let me treat you the way you deserve to be treated.” Seulgi rarely blushes, but this is one of those times where she feels like she can’t help it. “Am I lucky to have you, daddy, or are you lucky to have me?” The question sounds like a test, but you still answer properly from the bottom of your heart. “From my perspective, it’s me that’s so lucky to have you. If you think that you’re lucky to have me, then that’s a huge honor for me.”

You sit in the center of the bed with Seulgi still in your arms and are ready to have sex, but it changes when she begins tearing up. “Are you okay, baby?” She fans her face with her hands to get herself together. “Oh, don’t worry; these are tears of joy.” You’re glad that your nails aren’t long because you’re now able to wipe her tears without worrying about scratching her. “I promised you that you’ll be crying for the right reasons, didn’t I, baby?”

“I-I don’t know if I can continue, daddy—I’m sorry,” she’s still unable to stop crying. You chuckle. “Tell me how I’m supposed to be rough with a softie like you, baby, hm?” “Well, y-you’re supposed to be mean and dominant.” “I can’t be mean to you, can I, my love?” The way you say the last two words must’ve triggered something in her heart, because her cries grow louder than before. “Oh, I’m so sorry—look, I’ll get you some ice cream, okay?”

You rush to the kitchen quickly to get a cup of strawberry ice cream for her, and when you return to the bedroom, Seulgi is curled up in the middle of the bed. “Seulgi-yah, my love,” you tap her thigh to get her attention, “do you want some?” “Y-yes.” Once she’s seated, you move to sit behind her and have her lean against your body. “Look at this, baby,” you open the lid for her, “it looks so tasty, don’t you think?” “A-and soft like me,” she adds.

You take a spoonful of ice cream and guide it to her waiting mouth, repeating it a few more times until Seulgi says stop. “You know,” she says, “I remember overhearing a guy talk about how he fantasized about fucking me hard like a cheap slut.” Your brain starts getting filled with anger, because what the fuck kind of fantasy is that. “Really?” She nods. “H-he said he’d tie me down and fuck my ass.” “I don’t mean to prod too much, but have you taken a penis in your ass?” Seulgi shakes her head. “I’m naughty but not that naughty.”

You feed her another spoonful of ice cream as you think about her words. “Can I ask who this guy was and how you overheard him?” “H-he was, erm, a fellow trainee, a-and I happened to be walking past a room he was in when he said it out loud.” You’re very baffled; if he was a fellow trainee, that means that he was around Seulgi’s age, and for someone that young to have that sort of fantasy sounds nasty. “He didn’t debut, did he, because there are many male celebrities from your old label.” Seulgi shakes her head again. “He didn’t make the final debut lineup.” Hearing her answer makes you let out the biggest sigh of relief in your recent memory.

You have a few sentences in your head that you hope will convince Seulgi that you’re not that type of person, but after the first sentence leaves your lips, she won’t let you continue. “I can tell from day one what type of person you are behind your façade.” You scratch your head in confusion. “Am I that easy to read?” She chuckles. “I’ll say that your book was a bit open.”

The ice cream has run out, but thankfully, Seulgi is no longer crying. You put the small wooden spoon in the empty cup and put them on the bedside table. “I hope I helped you feel better,” you say. “I mean, I wasn’t sad necessarily, but you did help a lot.” She moves to sit on your lap after freeing herself from your arms.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Seulgi grins, satisfied with your quick answer. “Are you down to make some promises?” “Let’s do it.”

Seulgi asks you to go first, so you say the first thing that comes up in your head. “Promise me that you won’t leave me when you’ve got back on your feet.” “Excuse me?” You sigh deeply. “You met me when you were in a rough spot, and I sincerely hope that you won’t leave me when… you know, you’re in a better situation—maybe when you get a job or something like that.” She holds your face with her soft hands. “No, I will never do you like that—I’m here right now because of you, love.” “So, you promise?” She nods rapidly to show seriousness, and seeing it warms your heart. “Thank you, baby.”

Seulgi looks away momentarily. “I had something in my head, but you threw me off.” You stay silent to see if she manages to find something for you. “Okay, how about this,” she says, “promise me that you’ll propose to me and make me yours.” Your eyebrows rise involuntarily. “Propose to you? Are you that sure—” “Yes,” she interrupts you before you can finish your sentence. “You’re law enforcement, so what better way is there for us other than to formalize our relationship in the eyes of the law?” The phrasing makes you want to laugh, but your brain manages to stifle you from actually laughing, citing inappropriate timing. With that, your response is, “We’ll work on it, love.”

Seulgi quickly shifts to get on her knees in front of you. “Fuck everyone else; I’m the only one for you, and you’re the only one for me.” You rub her cheek gently. “What are you talking about, love?” Instead of answering your question, she repeats her line. “Love, seriously, what are you talking about?” “My ex,” her answer is a short one. “Why are you thinking about him?” She looks at you dead in the eyes, and you swear there is smoke coming out of her ears. “I’m not—if anything, I wish I could erase him from my memory.”

You don’t know how to react to that aside from saying that he’s completely irrelevant in your and Seulgi’s lives. “Please don’t bring him up again,” you say sternly. “Yes, daddy.”  She must be in the same head space as before when the two of you were in the bathroom. “Oh, you’re saying it again, huh?” She palms your limp cock. “You distracted me with that ice cream, but now I’m ready.” You run a thumb on her cheek. “You were literally in tears and said you couldn’t continue—how could I have ignored that?” “Yeah, well, that’s now in the past,” she deflects, “let’s focus on the here and now, daddy.”

Seulgi crawls backwards until your cock is right in front of her eyes. “Oh, you’re so hard already.” “How can I not when my beautiful wife is naked in front of me like this?” She grins. “I’m your wife?” “Yes, you are—also, it’s not like there’s anyone else in this room, is it?” “There’s no one else in this room aside from the two of us, and there’s no one else in my life aside from you, daddy.”

Without breaking eye contact, Seulgi eases your cock into her mouth, wasting little time to start things off. She then grabs your hand and places it on the back of her head. “Ah, of course, how could I forget?” You start petting her head gently. “You like this, don’t you, baby?”

You make sure the praises keep flowing out of your lips without obstruction as your soon-to-be wife moves her head back and forth along your shaft. “God, you’re amazing at this, baby.” Enticed by your words and the pets on the back of her head, Seulgi picks up the pace, thus filling the bedroom with slurps and other sounds that escape her mouth that only add to your arousal. “I’m starting to think that you like my dick more than that ice cream,” you quip.

Before long, Seulgi removes you from her mouth to come up for air. “You know, I’m curious what it’d be like if I could take your whole dick in my mouth.” You take a rough measurement of your cock with your palm and estimate how far your cock would go. “The tip would be in your throat, baby.” She licks her lips, curious about how that would feel like. “Can I try?” You shake your head. “I don’t want to suffocate you with my penis,” you reason.

You invite Seulgi to sit on your lap after closing your thighs, but instead of simply straddling them like you hoped, she puts your cock in her pussy first before actually sitting on your lap, thus forcing the two of you to moan in reflex. “You like that, daddy?” “How can I not when you’re this tight?” Seulgi rewards your good answer with a fleeting kiss. “At what age do you think we’ll stop having sex, daddy?” You shrug. “I don’t know—60, maybe?” “I doubt it; with your physique, you’d be able to fuck me until we’re 80.”

You want to say something else, but your train of thoughts got derailed when Seulgi starts moving her hips. “I-I’ll stay tight for you, daddy, even if we have a lot of children.” “I don’t doubt it,” you’re getting breathy.

Without command, Seulgi picks up the pace to the maximum that she can do, her sexy moans flying out her lips without rest. It is when you take her tits in your hands that her moans get louder. “S-suck them, p-please.” You do as she asks and put one breast in your mouth while stimulating the other with your hand. “Yes, like that, daddy—suck my tits like our future children would.”

It's not fair for you to only stimulate one breast, so you let go of the first one to make room for the other. You keep sucking until you notice that Seulgi slows down. In retaliation, you lightly bite and pinch her nipples. “Oh, God, don’t do that,” she jolts, “l-look, I-I’ll start again.”

Seulgi eventually pushes you away from her plump breasts and falls backwards onto the bed. “I-I’m tired—y-you’ll need to fuck me this time,” she says between heavy pants. You don’t bother waiting for her to calm down, opting to start again right away to ensure maximum stimulation.

Initially, you’re holding Seulgi by her legs as you’re thrusting into her, but as time goes on, you’re starting to fold her legs over her body. “Fuck me, daddy—fuck me nice and fast,” she eggs you on. You fasten your grip on her ankles as you prepare to give her your absolute everything, and not too long after you’ve started, Seulgi is reduced to moans and screams as her eyes are rolling backwards.

All you can think about right now is how wet and tight— “D-daddy,” she snaps you out of your horny trance, “I, I—c-cum, daddy.” You quickly pull out of her pussy and aggressively rub her clit, thus making her scream. “D-daddy,” her orgasm is getting so close, “I-I’m—your fingers, daddy, fuck!” “Cum, baby; cum for daddy,” you urge her.

With an ear-piercing scream, Seulgi explodes, soaking the bed with her juice. Once she’s done squirting, you drag her around and position her until her legs are dangling off the edge of the bed. “You want to be tied?” Seulgi nods slightly. “Then tied you will be.” You grab a pair of handcuffs from your equipment holster and lock her wrists together with them. “Are you ready to go again, though?” She nods again. “Fuck me, papi.” Hearing the new name makes you chuckle. “One day, we’ll sit down and talk about our kinks, okay?”

Seulgi moans when your shaft enters her again and screams when your palm lands on her butt. “You’re fucking naughty, aren’t you?” “Y-yes, officer.” You spank her once more. “That’s inspector to you, Miss Kang—or papi, like you said yourself.”

You fix your hands on her waist as you fuck her tirelessly from behind, her butt cheeks bouncing around as your hips crash into them. You notice that her small, puckered ring keeps peaking at you every now and then, and an idea enters your mind: what if you put a finger in there?

You coat your thumb with spit to prepare it for a brave adventure to a brand-new world that is her asshole. Seulgi jolts when she feels your thumb in the entrance of her forbidden hole. “D-daddy, gently, please,” she begs, but instead of getting an assurance that you’ll indeed be gentle, she gets a spank on the butt instead. “You’re mine, slut.” You feel a tinge of guilt for calling her with such a pejorative name, but you’re half certain that she’ll understand considering the current situation.

Seulgi grits her teeth as her asshole stretches to accommodate your thumb. “How are we feeling?” “G-good—oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” She begins squirming around when she feels your thumb moving in and out of her asshole. You don’t give her a chance to breathe as you opt to start fucking her again with your thumb still stuck in her ass.

Amidst her endless moans, a thought enters Seulgi’s mind: should she let you fuck her ass?

“Maybe I should.”

“Fuck, it’ll hurt so bad, though.”

“So what? He’ll be the first and last.”

“But he’ll stretch me like crazy.”

“Let him claim you.”

Her conversation with herself ends when she feels that your thumb is no longer lodged in her ass. She gathers her strength to turn her head towards you to look at you. “D-daddy,” her voice is barely heard.

“Yes, baby?” You couldn’t hear what she just said, so you lean forwards and ask her to say it again. “F-fuck my ass, daddy.”

Your eyes widen in shock; did she just ask to be fucked in the ass?

“You’re a virgin there, though, no?” Your answer is some feeble nods. “I-I couldn’t bleed for you, s-so claim my ass a-and make me yours.”

You pull out of her pussy so that you can address this further. “Baby, you know I have no problem with not being your first.” “J-just do it, daddy—l-let me show you exactly h-how much I love you.” “Are you sure?” “Y-yes,” she answers briefly. You ask once more and get the same answer, so you know that her mind is made up. “Safe word?” “C-cookie,” it appears that she hasn’t forgotten it. “Alright, let’s do it, then.”

It is when you’re back in your previous position that you realize you need something to make it hurt less for Seulgi. An idea pops in your head: “Her pussy will be able to coat me,” you think. You plunge into her pussy again and pump a few times until your cock is shiny because of her juice. For extra measure, you also coat your cock with a lot of spit.

“I’m ready, baby—are you?” She nods. “Claim me,” she repeats. “Stop saying it like that,” you protest. “J-just give it to me, please.”

Seulgi gasps when the tip of your cock touches her puckered ring. “Gently, love—I’m begging you,” she begs, changing the callout name for good measure. She inhales sharply when the tip of your cock stretches her virgin ass. “Please be gentle,” her voice starts to crack, and it’s understandable, too; this is her first time after all.

You push forwards into her pussy every odd second to not hurt her even more. Seulgi turns her head towards you, thus showing you the pooling tears in her eyes. “P-please tell me I’m doing well,” she says. “You are, baby; you’re doing so well right now,” you assure her, your hips still. It hurts your heart seeing your beloved woman be in tears like that, but it was her idea to give her ass to you, her beloved man, with whom she wants to have a life with.

“Love, take me.”

 Using her urge as fuel, you begin moving your hips back and forth, thus properly and officially taking her anal virginity.

“Does it hurt so bad still?” “Y-yes, b-but it’s fine—t-this is what I want,” Seulgi deflects. You take a few deep breaths to focus your mind on the task. “Alright, I’ll try moving now, okay?”

You maintain this relaxed pace as Seulgi’s muscles adapt to your intrusion, and slowly but surely, moans begin streaming out of her lips. “That’s better, love.” You place your hands on her butt cheeks to caress them. “You’re incredibly tight, baby.” “T-that’s—AH!” A particular thrust makes Seulgi scream. “T-that’s your proof that I-I’m a virgin there.” “I never asked for proof, but thank you, my love.”

Your orgasm approaches at an alarming rate with every thrust of your hips. On one hand, you’re happy, because it means that Seulgi won’t have to suffer for too long. On the other, you’re worried that she’ll be disappointed by your performance tonight. There is one way to make sure, and that is to simply ask. “Love, can I cum?” She nods. “S-sooner than later, please, daddy.” “Brace yourself, baby—feel free to tap out, though.”

After delivering a warning, you pick up the speed, fucking her ass fast like it was her pussy, and Seulgi immediately sinks her face into the bed to muffle her voice. You instinctively spank her, thus forcing another scream from her, but regret it right away. “Fuck, sorry, baby; force of habit,” you say, apologetic.

You can feel the way your cock is throbbing in her ass—orgasm must be very close. “Baby, I’m—” “Do it, daddy—f-fill my ass.” “Alright, okay.”

You leave the entirety of your cock lodged in her ass as you blow semen deep into it, thus officially marking the end of this painful first-time. After you’re done filling her, you retreat out of her ass, and after blinking a few times, her asshole properly closes, locking your cum inside.

You grab the cuffs’ key so that you can unlock them, and after she’s free, you flip Seulgi onto her back and pull her into an embrace. “It hurt, didn’t it, love?” “Y-yes, but I’m yours now.” You put on a gentle smile for her. “Thank you so much, love—I love you.”

-

You’re back in bed after a long shower with Seulgi, and what’s left for you to do is to take care of her, which consists of several non-skippable steps.

First, you hold her tightly.

Second, you say, “Love, thank you so much, seriously,” to express gratitude and appreciation.

Third, you come in for a kiss—one that is passionate to support your words.

“Don’t leave me now, love.” “How can I leave you when I’m so in love with you?” Seulgi lets out a tiny chuckle. “Are you in love with me or my body?” The question offends you a touch. “Surely you don’t think that low of me.”

Seulgi shuffles around rather wildly. “Are you okay?” She huffs in frustration. “You’re not close enough.” You laugh. “Our skin is literally touching, baby.” “No, not enough.”

Seulgi mounts your lap and puts your semi-hard cock in her pussy. “Oh, there we go.” You tease her by thrusting upwards but earn a slap on the chest in response. “Don’t—I’m already so sore.” “Are we sleeping like this, then?” She nods against your cheek. “If you wake up first tomorrow, feel free to fuck me and cum inside.”

You chuckle. “That’d be a crazy way to start the day.”

[writingsonsaturn]

Tim's fiancee gets arrested when a cop (let's say Lucy or someone) (this is after they are rookies) arrests her because she looks like a suspect they already caught, his fiancee told them she was engaged to Tim but they didn't believe her and Tim gets mad at the officer - <3

wrong place, wrong time - tim bradford

{ masterlist }

🪐: very sorry about how long its taken me to write, had a lot of stuff to do this week lol! this ones a little short <333

word count: 850

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Waking up with Tim being gone was normal, even after he had left the military his day continued to start at 6 am sharp. Although on weekends he would cut himself some slack to hold you until you were ready to get out of bed and begin with your various tasks you two needed to get done.

Today didn’t start off any different, waking up only a few hours after Tim had, at a ripe 8:30am.

Rubbing your eyes you flung your legs to your left, your warm feet chilling almost immediately at the cold wooden flooring of you and Tim’s shared bedroom. A shiver shot through your nerves and up your spine, you sighed lightly at the shift in temperature and made your departure to the bathroom.

The spring air seeped into the sunlit room, the fresh morning breeze filling your soul with flowers and bright colors. Music filled the house whilst you finished your morning routine making breakfast and feeding Kojo.

You started out your afternoon deciding to head to the local library, wanting to return a book you had borrowed before you were charged with a late fee. 

The library wasn’t full since it was the afternoon and school was still in session, “hello! i’m here to return a book” you said in a chipper but quiet tone. The librarian smiled and took the book, checking it back into the system and sending you on your way.

Your next stop was a supermarket, you had only a handful of items that were needed. Tim had run out of coffee filters this morning and you needed more shampoo, you also opted to get a new water bowl for Kojo, not that he needed one, you just thought it was cute.

As you walked out to your car you were stopped with a taser pointed directly at your torso, “get on your knees with your hands up!” a woman yelled.

Your confused manor caused your reaction to be delayed, causing the police officer to yell once again. “Get down on the ground with your hands up, now!” you immediately get down to your knees and put your shaking hands up. 

“You got the wrong person, I swear! Call Tim Bradford, he's my Fiancé!” you pleaded, the cop with the name ‘Chen’ on her shirt just scoffed and laughed you off while stuffing you in the back of her squad car.

The ride to the precinct was uncomfortable, the cuffs were digging into the skin of your wrists. “Officer please, I'm not whoever you think I am. All you have to do is call Bradford, he’ll tell you exactly what I'm telling you know” you tried to plead your case once again, but it fell on deaf ears.

“Tim doesn’t have a fiancé, he was my T.O, i think i would know a big detail like him having a girlfriend” she laughed, feeling as though it was ridiculous to even entertain your words.

As you were brought into the station to get your picture taken and be put into holding, Chen passed you onto another officer and went to tell Grey about her catch. 

To Lucy’s surprise everyone had already been packing up the evidence and started paperwork, “what’s going on?” Lucy questioned, “we caught the killer, she was at her parents place shooting up when we got there” Tim explained. Lucy was confused, “so if you caught the killer, who do i have in holding?” the question hung in the air, Tim looking at her with perplexed eyes.

Lucy walked Tim over to holding and that’s where Tim saw you, “oh thank god!” you exclaimed seeing Tim. He hurried over to you taking your cuffs off and waving off the other officers. “Chen, why is my fiancé sitting here in cuffs?” Tim sternly asks, Lucy looks down, stuttering and trying to explain herself.

“Tim it’s fine, she was just doing her job” you did your best to defend Lucy, “No y/n, this is not okay, if it had been anyone else this would be a lawsuit” he turned his body at you but his tone was directed at Lucy.

“Tim i’m sorry, I didn’t know we had already caught the suspect and she looked exactly like our suspect” Lucy tried to explain, stumbling over her words.

“You are going to go to Grey and explain everything, lucky for you, y/n isn’t going to file a report against you” Tim assigned Lucy, to which she scurried away. “Are you okay? oh christ your wrists,” his questions and concerns came at you with speed.

“Tim, baby, I'm okay,” you smiled trying to calm him down. Tim held your wrists in his hands, and kissed them. He hoped his love would be enough to soothe your angry red skin, “i’m sorry, this shouldn’t have happened” he persisted. 

You shut him up with a kiss, “drive me to go pick up my car” your smile made him relax. “Yes ma’am” he laughed, telling Grey where he was going, and walking out hand in hand with you, still profusely apologizing.

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Keigo Takami General Profile

Yandere! Keigo Takami x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, mentions of non-con, implied masturbation, possessiveness, lots and lots of guilt, Stockholm Syndrome/you've kind of lost it by the end, mentions of eating/eating healthily, mentions of murder, Dabi makes an appearance and is directly responsible for your kidnapping, insinuation that Keigo's jerked it to some rather icky nasty stuff of yours, non-consensual photography, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 15K (genuinely how)

DARLING PROFILE:

Smart

If Keigo was pressed to describe his type, the very first thing that he would blurt out is intelligent. He wants a woman that can match him in terms of intellect. Someone who can follow his quick-paced jokes, his sarcasm, someone that keeps up with him, really.

He finds it wildly attractive when a woman is confident in her own knowledge, and ideally his darling would be knowledgeable in an area he knows next to nothing about.

He likes hearing them spiel on about something they’re passionate about – and he'll be listening, intently, with a hand under his chin and eyes glossed over because while their words are interesting, watching them is really what’s fully engaging him. There’s something wonderful about the way that they’re able to answer all the questions he prompts them with, never missing a beat and fully dissecting his question before giving their best thoughts back.

It’s just wonderful, and although he’d never divulge any sensitive information to them out of fear for their safety, there’s something euphoric about knowing that if he really wanted to, if he could, he thinks they would understand how he feels.

He thinks they could understand how careful he has to be, how he has to think out his every move and word dozens of times in advance, making sure everything is exactly how it should be.

And really, this helps Keigo feel less lonely – it’s less polarizing and solitary if he knows that his darling could support him, even if he won’t tell them anything.

Just the knowledge makes him giddy, his heart beating faster because it feels so very good to not be alone.

Witty

Similarly to their intelligence, Keigo needs a darling who’s able to dish out what he serves. A witty, silver-tongued darling would have him constantly on his toes, finding that speaking with them is entertaining and leaves him wanting more.

His darling isn’t boring, or a drag to speak to – their stories and commentary leave him on the edge of his seat, growing addicted to their voice and finding himself wanting more more more, eagerly asking all sorts of follow-up questions that he normally wouldn’t bother with.

And really, this is one of the first signs that his feelings for them have ventured beyond friendly – he’s never been this invested in someone before, never wanting to interact with them so badly, never wanting to be around them and hear their voice and watch their lips move to form syllables.

He finds his darling’s sense of humor to perfectly match his own, leaving him winded and often more flustered than he’d care to admit.

They’re just so cute – the knowing little look they send him when they crack a bad pun that leaves him chuckling, the way their face scrunches up when they make an accidentally dirty joke.

It’s endearing, really, and it only makes him fall for them harder, his desperation to see them growing stronger with every passing day because god, they’re just so perfect.

Civilian

While Keigo is capable of developing an obsession with a fellow hero, it’s unlikely.

Part of what draws him to his darling is their innocence – they don’t understand the realities of their society, how violent and horrible the darkest members are, how much crime and unrest fills the city streets right under their nose.

It’s the way his darling is able to be so happy and carefree in the face of such terror that draws Keigo in – they practically radiate positivity, talking about their own mundane life and managing to lull Keigo into a false reality that he, too is simply a civilian.

That he isn’t a double agent with a non-existent sense of self, that he isn’t bursting with stress and anxiety at any given time. It’s a nice reprieve, really, and it’s one that he slowly begins craving. The moments of peace and tranquility addict him, causing him to view his darling as a sort of stress-reliever, someone he can go to when things become too heavy, too dark, too much.

He wants to hear about everything happening in their lives – their crazy neighbors, annoying coworkers, the cat they saw crossing the street, the latest thing broken in their apartment. He wants to know about the mundane things, the things he’s never experienced and never will experience.

His darling is a sort of portal to a totally different world – what he could have had if he hadn’t been born into the family he was, if he hadn’t had inherited his quirk, if he hadn’t have done this or that.

His darling represents possibility, a side of Keigo that he desperately, desperately wishes he could embrace – which is why he slowly begins fantasizing about a future with his darling, always complete with a nice little house, a few children, a pretty ring on their finger, and complete domestic bliss.

It’s a dirty fantasy to him, really, something far off and dreamy, but with every interaction he has with his darling, it only stronger, and he only grows more desperate.

Empathetic

Keigo needs someone who is able to see past the layers of persona he puts on as Hawks and instead see him. Keigo Takami. He needs someone who’s able to listen to his words and comfort him, to see the frightened, abused boy he still is at heart.

The idea of a darling who’s able to understand him on such a deep, raw level leaves him feeling equal parts terrified and relieved, because he’s never really had someone there for him before.

The concept of a companion, of someone to rely on and love and cherish is such a foreign concept to him, and although he finds the idea enticing (having watched more than his fair share of rom-coms and trashy romance movies), Keigo doesn’t believe that he’ll ever get to experience it.

His life is too busy and hectic, and having a woman to hold and love and protect would add too much unnecessary strain. Except once he meets his darling and he feels seen for the first time, things begin changing. No longer does he find himself alone, internally grappling with his real identity and his hero identity, slowly losing himself with all the stress and obligations towards the commission.

No, he’s not alone because he has them – his darling, the one who’s smile and a simple brush of their hand leaves him breathless, feeling like a little kid with a sense of wonder and hopefulness and love that makes his heart pound in his chest.

A darling that’s able to incite these feelings in him is really the key to catching his attention in the first place – a cruel fate, really, considering his darlings is only trying to help him, only trying to help reassure him that he doesn’t have to be the ever strong, ever cool Hawks in front of everybody.

It’s a noble thought, really – but ultimately one that dooms his darling, forcing the blond to latch onto them with incredible strength and never, ever letting go.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Clingy

It takes quite a while for Keigo’s obsession to form. He’s never really had the time nor desire to get close enough to someone to even consider a relationship, and while he’s a had a one-night stand or two, that one night of intimacy is the closest he’s ever gotten to someone. He’s just not emotionally available, and for very good reason – he’s lived his entire adult life (and much of his youth) completely under the Commission’s control, his every desire, action, and thought controlled by others.

It’s sad and some part of him knows it, pitying himself even, but Keigo’s just not interested in developing any kind of romantic relationship with anyone. He doesn’t have time, and there’s a small part of him that questions if he’s even able to form that kind of a connection with someone. A childhood full of abuse, training and emotional neglect has fucked him up in more ways than one, and he’s genuinely unsure if he’s even capable of something like love, if he’d even be able to give someone a healthy relationship, his heart.

He swears off romance, finding it trivial and just not something for him, but things begin changing the longer he knows you, the longer he’s around you and spends time with you. His feelings are purely platonic at first – you’re funny, someone he finds himself actually getting along with and not dreading seeing, and it’s always a pleasure when he happens to run into you when he’s out on patrol or just wandering around the city in a rare moment of free time.

(And at this point, it genuinely is random – there’s no pre-planned meetings, no orchestrated attempts at just so happening to run into you, no attempt to follow you or know your location at all hours of the day. It’s just fate, really.)

He slowly warms up to you, deciding that he actually really likes you, and as the weeks turn into months, there’s this feeling that starts tugging at his heart. It’s this strange phenomenon where when he’s lost in thought, planning out his next moves in making sure he balances his double agent lifestyle, there’s this lingering thought of you.

He’ll gear up in his hero suit, shrugging the jacket on over his wings and checking himself over in the mirror, only to let his hand linger over his jacket lapel. He’d never noticed the small speck of blood on the tan material – had you? It was surely an enemy’s, some criminal that he’d roughed up a bit too badly before capturing, but it was still an unfortunate sight. His lips quirk down a bit as he thinks of whether you’d noticed it when you’d ran into him at the end of his patrol yesterday – you hadn’t mentioned anything, but maybe you were just being polite.

Something about the thought of you seeing him with blood on him leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

It’s not until a notification on his phone gets his pocket buzzing that he snaps out of his small reverie, blinking at his reflection and feeling a small bit of confusion settle over him. Why was he thinking of you? Surely it wasn’t your blood, and you hadn’t been present during any of his fights yesterday – why had the thought of you popped into his mind?

Keigo’s not sure, but he pushes aside the thought as he jumps off his balcony, the wind catching his wings and letting him soar towards the Hero Commission building.

He doesn’t give it much thought, but then it happens again the next day; he’s out on patrol, flying a good ten feet above the skyline of this particular neighborhood, when he sees a woman walking with a bouquet of flowers. They’re pretty, he supposes – roses mixed with some greenery and tulips, the kind of perfect bouquet you’d see in a rom-com or some cheesy movie.

He smiles a bit, seeing the way the woman was sighing down at them with a dreamy look on her face, and before he can stop himself there’s this flash in his mind of you with flowers in your arms. They’d be a different color, of course – your favorite color, and maybe even a different flower. Whatever one was your favorite, that’s what he’d get you.

He freezes as the last thought flits through his mind, his wings freezing too and causing him to falter a bit mid-air, desperately flapping them to stay afloat. What the hell?

He doesn’t like it, at first – the way you’re slowly seeping into every aspect of his thoughts, always some little twinge of you sitting at the sidelines, an idle thought of wow, you’d look great with that shirt on or a small question of would she like this?

It makes him uncomfortable, because he doesn’t know how to deal with this strange new development – sure, he's heard all about love and falling for someone, because while he may not look like it, he’s watched his fair share of chick flicks and raunchy romances.

But still, this is different – it’s different because it’s him, because it’s you. And it’s different because Keigo notices, as time passes, that none of those films or stories mention just how all-encompassing the feeling is, or how it makes him want to swing by your apartment every night, flying outside your window and letting those honey eyes scan the room to find your familiar figure.

They don’t mention anything about the desire that eats him up at night, how he seems to see you in everything around him – his pillow is soft, but he’s sure your stomach would be softer. His dining chair is comfortable, but having you sit in his lap would make it more comfortable.

The ratty shirt with the massive holes cut in the back is loose on him, but where it looks sloppy on him, you’d manage to look cute, he’s sure. It scares him, if he’s being honest, because he feels his control over himself slowly slipping through his fingers – he can’t stop himself from checking over you when he knows you’re at work, repeatedly flying through the area when he really doesn’t need to, just to make sure there’s no villainous activity.

(And always keeping an eye out for you when he knows your shift is over – he always gets too nervous and chickens out, but one of these days he swears he’s going to swoop down and pick you up, holding you in his arms as he flies around with you, chuckling in your ear and pulling you flush against his body under the guise of ‘safety’ – just please ignore the hardness you feel against your back or the labored breaths in your ear.)

It scares him that he can’t stop himself from suddenly paying much more attention to your every word, listening to you like you’re spouting holy epiphanies as you tell him about your coworkers or this new film you watched, biting his lip and nodding along, letting his eyes occasionally flick down to your mouth as quickly as he can, just so you won’t notice.

Thus starts a troubling pattern – Keigo starts slowly craving learning as much as he can about you, because with every thought that pops up into his head, he finds his knowledge about you is sorely lacking. He doesn’t know what your favorite flower is – he can’t get you that bouquet he was fantasizing of.

 He doesn’t know where your favorite take-out place is – he can’t surprise you with dinner on nights he can tell you’re tired. (He can tell because he’d followed you home from the air and noticed your slouched shoulders and the way you’d looked on the verge of tears when you’d stubbed your toe on the uneven sidewalk, but still.)

He doesn’t know what size shoe you wear – he can’t pick you up those new shoes he thought you’d like, or get you a new pair of those fuzzy, warm socks he noticed were looking a little ragged in your laundry bin.

 He doesn’t know what your ideal date is, so he can’t plan one with the knowledge that you’d be as happy as humanly possibly, all smiley and bashful and shy, all because you’re with Keigo himself.

It frustrates him, and he figures it wouldn’t hurt to look into you just a bit more – he’s got access to all kinds of information, security clearances associated with his status as both a hero, an agent of the Hero Commission, and an agent of the Meta Liberation Army making pretty much any piece of information he wants to get his hands on accessible. He’s getting access to your computer and phone, sifting through your search histories, contacts, even your bank accounts and government information.

(How else would he be able to start depositing occasional bits of money into your account, gifts he knows you won’t notice because you never check your transaction histories? You may not know about them, but he does, and it makes him feel good, important when he’s gifting you a hundred dollars here and there, making sure you have a cushion so that you can spoil yourself and indulge in all the things he knows you want to, but you don’t have the funds to do so.)

He’s designating a specific feather to slip into your purse or pocket, attached to your person so that he can track where you’re going, feeling the vibration against your back when you’re talking, when you’re shivering because you’re cold, when you’re standing or sitting or laying or moaning and gasping and shaking –

(He’ll always stiffen up when the feather he’d managed to slip into your jacket starts vibrating with the sound of your cries, his cheeks and neck feeling unbearably hot as he starts to sweat, wings twitching uncontrollably and rushing to the nearest bathroom, clutching the sink and grimacing because god, you’re moaning so damn much, you must be touching yourself and he’s not even there to see it, not able to watch you fall apart – maybe you’re even thinking of him, of how he’d fuck you nice and deep, pushing your knees up to your ears and groaning your name over and over while he fills you full of his cum – He’s in the bathroom for a suspiciously long time, and when he comes back with his pants just slightly askew, Dabi will cock a brow but not make a comment.)

He’s even going so far as to set up cameras in your apartment, having broken in one day when you weren’t home, making sure they’re placed in inanimate objects so you don’t find one and get scared.

(Though, he can’t deny that the image of you running to him in fear, crying and clutching onto him and telling him that someone’s stalking you has a very nice ring to it… Ultimately, though, he knows it’s best for you to not take on the stress and burden of knowing your every move is being watched, recorded, stored onto his phone and computer so that when he can’t sleep at night or is particularly stressed from all the lying and sneaking around, he’ll have something pretty and sweet to look at, something calming and relaxing, something that makes him sigh and his lips quirk up into a small smile as his thumb rubs the technology, imagining it was your cheek.)

It’s a slow slide into his obsessive tendencies, but once his feelings for you have formed in full, Keigo is a lost cause – and once you end up trapped with him, forced to depend on him for everything, this trait will only present itself more strongly, becoming harder and harder to ignore because he won’t bother hiding it anymore.

You’ll be scared and apprehensive every time he arrives with a glass of water right when you were beginning to feel thirsty, but really, you should know better. You’ll be unnerved when he presents a new bottle of shampoo to you right as you start itching to shower, but it’s inevitable.

Keigo knows you better than you know yourself, after all – and he just wants to keep you happy, keep you safe. He's just in love, and doesn’t he deserve someone to love?

Doesn’t he deserve to be happy too, to finally, finally have something all to himself, something that’s his?

Protective

Frankly, though Keigo hides it well, his protectiveness over you is unbearable. He’s a seasoned pro-hero who spends a good amount of time with villains, and as a result he’s more than aware of just how dark of a place the world really is. He has intimate knowledge of just how many horrible people are hiding in plain sight, all the violent and horrific crimes they commit, and just how often they manage to escape unscathed.

And of course, he also knows just how many innocent victims get wrapped up in their schemes, often resulting in injuries and trauma and even death. And while Keigo generally is disapproving of murder, he’s even more staunchly against the concept when it’s your death, when you’re the lifeless body that’s laying on the cold, hard cement, blood pooling around your head and your pretty eyes staring aimlessly above, your fingers cold and your neck bruised and oh god oh god –

The realization that the way he feels for you has wandered into romantic territory is the same moment that he realizes that you could very easily be one of the civilians he was just a hair too slow to save.

He’s helping an older woman crawl out of a pile of rubble left behind from a stand-off with a villain, part of the building having collapsed in on itself, and all of a sudden he sees something sticking out from below a large, cement cylinder – a foot, stained red at the ankle, and immediately he feels sick.

Evacuations aren’t always successful, and oh, look at that – the foot’s complexion is oddly familiar, and he swears he’s seen that nail polish on someone else’s fingers before. Bile actually rises up the back of his throat as he realizes that everything about this unfortunate soul reminds him of you, even down to the hair dotting her leg. It’s a hard pill to swallow as images of you bloody and bruised flash through his mind, each one making his chest tighter than the last.

It leaves his fists clenching and his jaw tight enough to make his teeth hurt, and it’s in that moment that his body almost seems to operate on autopilot – the images of you battered and too injured to be helped are still swirling through his mind as his feet leave the ground, his wings beating faster and faster with every second, his desperation to reach you strong enough to get his heart practically racing out of his chest.

The wind is whistling in his ears as he flies to your apartment, his muscles aching from the exertion, his lip caught between his teeth as he mentally chants that you’re okay, you’re okay, please God you have to be okay.

It’s only once he lands on your apartment balcony and sees you clumsily doing your dishes in the kitchen sink that relief floods his system, his entire body sagging against the railing as he finally lets out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding back.

You’re okay.

You’re alive and breathing, and as his eyes scan every exposed inch of your skin, he can’t find even a speck of blood. A hand comes up to rest over his heart, and Keigo swallows, Adam’s apple visibly bobbing with the weight of the motion.

He spends longer than he’d care to admit on your balcony that evening, those yellow eyes watching like a hawk as you move about in your tiny apartment, mentally assessing each and every movement. You’re pretty like this, he thinks – you’re entirely unaware that you’re being watched, but there’s something about seeing you be so natural and free that’s exhilarating, making his heart pound and his cheeks flush pink because this is what you’re really like when no one’s watching. It makes his chest ache to see it, his gloved fingers reaching out and pressing against the glass of your sliding door, the urge almost unbearable to be with you and hear what he’s sure is you singing along to some horrible song.

He’s idly wondering if you cook all your meals, and that’s why you have so many dishes – would you cook for him? He's a lousy chef and frankly a bit picky about his food, but he’d eat anything you make for him with a bright smile and trembling fingers, eagerly wolfing down the food and being nearly brought to tears because you made this for him.

He’s imagining the way you’d let him hold you at night, sharing a bed with you and your body pressed snugly beside his, an arm draped over your side and your soft breaths tickling the expanse of his chest. It’s a pleasant thought, but all too soon his phone is buzzing and he’s brought out of his reverie, glancing at the time and sucking in a sharp breath because it’s been an hour and a half of him just sitting here, gaping like an idiot at you.

Embarrassment creeps up his spine, but before he jumps off the balcony and heads to the Commission to report back, he spares a final glance over his shoulder at you, and the smallest of smiles sits on his lips, something warm blooming in his chest.

But from that moment onwards, Keigo slowly becomes more and more consumed by the idea of just how truly unprepared you are for any sort of villain encounter. You have a quirk, sure, but it’s minor and not especially useful, and it certainly wouldn’t help if you were to be cornered in some dark alleyway, or if you were to hear your front door’s lock being picked, or if you were to be caught in the crossfire of a villain robbing a bank.

And it’s small things that remind him of these facts – he'll see you trip over seemingly nothing, losing your footing and stumbling for just a moment, and immediately fear is sitting heavy in his gut because god, you’d be dead meat running from a villain. It’s endearing, of course, but it’s scary.

He hears you giggle sheepishly and rub the back of your neck as you admit to your friend over lunch that you’d forgot to lock your door when you left for groceries yesterday, his skin and feathers bristling and a small prick of anger bubbling inside him because are you asking to be the next tragedy covered on the news?

 He takes you out for dinner (that he hopes you’ll think of as a date, even if the restaurant is a simple diner that he knows you love) and sees a bandaid on your finger, his voice a touch lower than his previous joking tone as he asks if you’re okay, did you hurt yourself? Your response of how you’d accidentally caught the sharp edge of a razor in the shower makes his entire body tense, both at the idea of you in the shower and at the idea of your blood being drawn, of the way you’d probably hissed and bit your lip, the pain acute. You’ll notice the way he freezes up, this look on his face that you can’t quite describe, but soon he’ll be flashing you that familiar grin, taking a sip of his soda and telling you that unshaved is better, hasn’t anyone ever told you that?

(He likes the way you roll your eyes and pretend that you aren’t embarrassed by his comment – at least, he hopes that’s how you’re feeling, because the comment made him himself a little hot under the collar.)

Everything you do is a reminder to him that you’re weak, and it’s this constant mantra that moves Keigo to take his own measures to ensure your safety. He’ll offer to walk you home from work every day, waving off your concerns by telling you that his patrols end right around that time anyways so it’s no big deal.

(They don’t – they tend to end much earlier, but this way he can fly around for a bit, trail you from the air and keep his eyes trained only on you, all with the luxury of lying when you notice his presence about how his patrol areas happen to line up with the district you work in.)

He’ll tell you that he’s sure your cooking is good, but he knows what place has the absolute best lunches – and would you look at that, it’s not too far from your apartment! Maybe you’d be interested in getting lunch with him sometimes? He knows the owner pretty well because he’s always in there, maybe he could even get the both of you a loyal customer discount.

(He’d only started eating there because a late night of watching you through your apartment windows had led to his stomach growling too much to bear, and he’d strolled into the twenty-four-hour establishment absolutely ravenous for food, still glowing from having watched your sleeping face.)

He’s even making unsolicited, subtle remarks about your own habits designed to get you to change some of your more problematic traits – he’ll tell you that eating breakfast is actually very good for you, he’s heard that people who skip breakfast tend to have bowel problems.

(It’s delivered as a joke and you snort because he’d been a little graphic with a bad pun thrown in there, and as Keigo basks in the sight of your smile and the sound of your laughter, he hopes that you’ll remember the sentiment – you need to be eating properly, after all.)

He’s telling you that crime rates have been awfully high in your neighborhood lately – it’s recommended for all civilians to avoid speaking to anyone on the streets – just for safety purposes, of course.

(And because it dramatically reduces the number of men you interact with, something that makes both his protectiveness and possessiveness cool ever so slightly because that means one less man that you could meet and fall for and want and love-)

And why shouldn’t you believe everything that he says? He’s the number two hero, a man who’s saved more lives than you could imagine – how could he not be the authority on safety? Who are you to doubt anything he tells you, any advice he gives you?

And Keigo knows this – which is why he’ll start pushing further and further with time, trying to convince you to drop anything dangerous at all; did you know that more people cut themselves with knives than with all other cutting tools combined? You should really be careful, you know – besides, sometimes recipes are better with whole tomatoes!

(Really, he just wants to avoid seeing a knife in your hands – you’re not trustworthy with something so sharp, even if the sight of you in the kitchen slaving over the stove is strangely adorable, strangely right.)

Did you know that most animal attacks are from dogs? Maybe you shouldn’t consider getting that cute puppy you’d been gushing about – you just never know.

(Really, Keigo’s just worried that you’ll end up spending all your time and attention with said puppy, leaving him with only the most meager scraps that won’t be nearly enough to satisfy him, and while he’s serious about the dog attacks, he’s mostly just selfish. Plus, an animal companion would make slipping through your window late at night almost impossible.)

Did you know that the vast majority of murder victims are women? You should probably take him up on his offer to be your personal chaperone – consider it a favor for a friend, he’d told you.

(Though he’d been gritting his teeth as he said the word ‘friend’, even the feel of it on his tongue making something ugly twist in his gut. The way he feels for you certainly isn’t friendly – it can’t be, not when he’s imagining waking up with you every morning, the way your lips would taste, how you’d look on your knees staring up at him while you gag and choke and suck so hard your cheeks hollow out.)

And once you’ve been kidnapped, this trait is only furthered, his paranoia eating away at him because he knows you’ll be rebellious, that you’ll want to lash out and hurt yourself and hurt him, and just the thought leaves him buzzing with anxiety, stress eating away at him because he absolutely refuses to let you get injured in any way.

You have to stay pristine – his gorgeous, precious partner that he loves, the only woman who’s ever made him feel something so strong. You have to be okay – because if you aren’t, then he isn’t either, and the only thing more dangerous than a powerful, cunning man living a double life is a broken, apathetic man who wants everyone to know just how little life means now that his other half is gone.

Controlling

His controlling tendencies manifest as a result of both his extreme protectiveness, and as a sort of coping mechanism from the lack of control he has over his own life. He does love you – at least, he thinks this is love.

(If it’s not love, then Keigo doesn’t know what the fuck this could possibly be – what else would cause him to be thinking of you at all hours of the day, his body physically aching and yearning to be with you? What else could cause his breathing to hitch and become so uneven when you’re in his presence, his quirk nearly out of his control as his feathers ruffle and flutter and come down around you like some sort of cage?)

He loves you, sure, his obsession festering into something darker, deeper, more unmanageable and impossible to come back from, but there’s a part of him that begins exerting this control over you as a way to satisfy himself.

By dictating your life, it’s almost like he’s dictating his own – like he gets to choose what happens, like he has self-autonomy, like he isn’t just a puppet being used by others. It’s euphoric, cathartic, and this only furthers his dependence on you – not only do you make him feel something warm and gooey and suffocating in his chest, but you also make him feel calmer, more grounded, more whole.

But as lovely as it is for Keigo to finally get a grip on his own mental health, this has rather disastrous effects on you – even before he’s stolen you away, these controlling tendencies are present. Of course, they’re difficult to spot when Keigo is still just the handsome, flirty hero who seems to have a soft spot for little old you. You’re in a metaphorical honeymoon phase at that point, beyond flattered that someone like him has noticed someone like you.

And so, you don’t really notice the way that he tells you to stop hanging out with a particular friend that you keep rambling on about. They’re going through a hard time, you’re sure of it – it’s the only reason they’ve been so snappy and distant lately, and it’s only natural for you to bear your burdens to Keigo, telling him how they were rude to you last weekend, how they’ve been ignoring your calls, how you’re at a loss because what could possibly be happening?

And Keigo will grit his teeth, his smile tight and visibly strained as he clutches onto his coffee cup with white knuckles, eventually telling you wow, that really sucks, some friend. Maybe you should stop hanging out with them – obviously they aren’t as invested in the friendship as you are, sound like they’re not as good of a friend as you are, frankly.

It’s good advice, all things considered, but it’s presented in a way that flatters you, that makes you sound like you’re the reasonable, good friend and they’ve simply dropped the ball. And so, you’ll follow his advice – that friend isn’t contacted again, and Keigo personally sees to it that you’ve blocked them, having gone in and manually done it on your phone while you were fast asleep.

You won’t notice how he makes subtle comments about what you should order when you’re at a restaurant together – he’ll never make comments about your weight, but he’ll prompt you to eat something healthier, something more, something that’ll leave you happy but nourish you as well. The comments are again difficult to spot – when he opens up the menu, he’ll pipe up and tell you that they’ve got that salad you were talking about the other day – you know the one? Yeah, sounds good – do you want to split it? I think we should get some extra chicken on top, too.

(Once the salad arrives, of course, you’ll be eating the majority – Keigo will nibble at it, picking at it and making a bit show of always having his fork packed with the greens – and a lot of the chicken – but you’ll be the one shoveling food into your mouth, feeling full by the time Keigo’s eaten roughly ten bites.)

You won’t notice it much at all, really – which is why it’s such a shock to one day wake up in Keigo’s luxury, king-sized bed, the soft white sheets smelling like fresh laundry and the pretty red, silky pajamas he’d changed you into feeling foreign on your body.

But just like his more needy and clingy tendencies, Keigo’s controlling nature will start to show itself once he’s stolen you away. There’s no point in hiding how he feels now, is there? You’re aware that he’s in love with you (he tells you every fucking day, after all, with a hushed voice that sounds much too vulnerable for you to bear and a barrage of kisses along your jawline and neck), so what’s the point in dialing down some of the more questionable aspects of his infatuation?

He’d kidnapped you out of paranoia, and now that you’re with him constantly, he’s able to really, fully control your actions and the things you’re allowed to do. He’s not too dehumanizing with it, but there’s a lot of limits on things that you normally wouldn’t even think about – you’re allowed to watch TV, but only for an hour a day and only specific channels and programs he’s approved.

(Generally, the cutoff for what he considers ‘appropriate’ for you are things without graphic violence, nothing terribly sad, and nothing that would cause you tension or stress. So, all horror movies are off the table, all dramas, all action films, really only leaving the things he wouldn’t mind watching with you – romances, mostly, and the occasional film with much more erotica than he realized. His face will turn red as the actors moan and whisper hushed I love you’s, his yellow eyes nervously flicking over to you from his spot beside you, his fingers itching to reach out to you, the blanket covering you both suddenly feeling much too hot.)

You’re allowed to eat what you want, but with a few very strict guidelines – you can’t have anything over a certain amount of grams of sugar, nor are you allowed to consume anything that isn’t paired with a vegetable. He’s forcing you to eat protein, and if you don’t eat meat he’ll count out a specific number of nuts you must consume that day, just to make sure you’re getting proper nutrition.

He especially loves if you’ll let him feed the nuts to you, or any food, really – he likes to feel needed and helpful, and to have you looking at him with those pretty eyes, the fork pressed against your lips while you swallow and thank him for the food… It makes Keigo’s breathing get a bit heavy, his mouth watering because god, he wants to use that fork after you, would you think that’s weird?

He’s not taking away any of your basic privileges like dressing yourself or using the restroom alone, but Keigo has a way of making you feel pathetic without even trying to; there’s just something about the way he looks at you, all soft smiles and wide eyes, his palms always clammy and nervous, his touch always hesitant but eager.

He won’t explicitly create a schedule for your daily life under his thumb, but you’ll essentially be in one, anyways. He leaves for work in the mornings, parting from you with a very, very tonguey kiss, and while he’s gone on his patrol all day, you’ll cycle through reading a few of the (pre-approved) books he’d gifted you, practicing your art skills, practicing your musical skills, and staring out the fifteen-story window, the one-way, bulletproof glass not giving you even the option to crack it if you wanted to brave the fall.

You’ll be stagnant, really, something that Keigo doesn’t appreciate at all once he notices it happening, but it doesn’t change the fact that he absolutely can’t relinquish control – you’re his, and even if you’re unhappy, Keigo will be damned if he gives up caring for you and making your decisions for you. That’s love, isn’t it? He knows what’s best for you, so why can’t you see that? Why do you fight him and tell him he’s a monster, a horrible, horrible man?

He just wants to keep you safe and happy and loved, so why are you making it so fucking difficult?

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

While Keigo isn’t too terribly possessive as far as yanderes go, he really only has so much self-control. Of course, he doesn’t like seeing other men around you, those already narrow eyes of his growing even sharper and smaller because he does not like this.

But what sets Keigo apart from others is that while he’s enraged, anxiety and anger prickling at his skin and causing goosebumps to litter his entire body, he’s smart. He’s good at reading people, at fully assessing situations and making split seconds analyses, and that’s exactly what he’ll do whenever he sees you in a situation where another man is showing interest.

He’ll examine the man’s face – is he smiling? Laughing? Serious? Frowning?

Smiling and laughing generally means one of two things – either the man hopes to become friends or acquaintances with you, or he’s flirting and he thinks it’s going very well. Keigo can’t decide which option he hates more.

A serious expression or a frown normally means that the man is trying to create a mysterious air – to embody hypermasculinity, to try and lure you in by looking the part of the strong, dominant man who’s only weakness is you. It makes Keigo cringe, his nose scrunching up in a wince as he thinks of how terribly stupid this man must be to think you’d fall for something like that – he obviously doesn’t know you or your intellect, at least not like Keigo does. Nobody knows you like Keigo does – not even yourself.

He’s looking at the man’s body language – if he’s leaning towards you, he probably has less than innocent intentions, either trying to intimidate you or get close to you to fulfill some sick, perverted urge.

(An urge that Keigo knows all too well – the urge to feel you, to touch you, to smell you, to have your skin against his. It’s an urge that he’s had to fight more times than he can count, stopping himself from scooping your into his arms and burying his face into the crook of your neck, his hands roaming every inch of your body because god, you smell good and you’re so fucking pretty and your voice is like heaven to his ears and you feel too damn good pressed against him like this and fuck you drive him absolutely insane.)

If the man has his hands in his pockets, that generally signals to Keigo that he’s not as confident at this as he’d like you to believe, showing the hero that the man is more than aware that you’re wildly out of his league, that really the man should have absolutely no business speaking with you.

Keigo’s noticing the distance between your body and the stranger’s – if it’s more than three feet, he’s able to take a small, minimally relieved sigh because at least the man isn’t likely to try something. But if he’s closer to you, dangerously close to being in your space and making you feel uncomfortable, immediately Keigo’s wings are flapping, the movements harsh and unconscious as his fists tighten and he grits his teeth because he’ll be damned if he lets anyone make you uncomfortable.

And he’s analyzing your body language, too, of course – if you like the interaction, if you’re pleased by the attention, if you’re scared, if you want to leave, even if you want to leave with the stranger himself. And while Keigo wishes he was wrong, the moments where you actually seem to be enjoying the flirting of a stranger make him bristle, a deep scowl settling on his face while insecurity and panic grip his heart because he has to stop this before it's too late – before you let yourself get wooed by another man before Keigo even gets the chance to fully earn your trust and adoration.

Seeing you approached by potential rivals for your love really brings out the worst side of Keigo – it brings out all the skills the Commission drilled into him, those eyes of his dissecting the other man like he’s merely a slab of meat, the blond finding every possible point of weakness in the man’s stature or attitude, just so Keigo can understand the full scope of what he’s competing with. Just so that Keigo can understand exactly how he can be better than this loser – how he can impress you and get you acting all bashful and dismissive of his witty flirting just like you should be.

Jealousy isn’t too pretty on Keigo, and while he won’t just blindly murder any man that steals your attention for even a moment.

(He’d lose his hero status very quickly, no matter how much he sometimes wants to send a feather clean through their neck, slicing their head off and feeling not a smidge of remorse because now he’ll finally stop running his mouth at you when you’ve clearly already been chosen to be Hawks’s woman – the number two’s sweet, important little partner that he absolutely cannot lose).

His patrol had felt incredibly long today – no large villain sightings, with only a few petty muggers making the time pass. Keigo sighs, wings flapping and wind whipping in his ears as he eagerly scans the streets below.

Normally, you’d be walking to the grocery store right around now – he’d noticed you were low on eggs, so it was only a matter of time before you braved the cold autumn air. Suspicion immediately pricks along Keigo’s spine, however, as he slowly flies along the path that you take to the store. You’re no where in sight – he doesn’t see your familiar jacket or notice the way the sunlight glistens off your hair, and immediately something uncomfortable is settling in his gut.

This wasn’t like you – you’d told him once that you prefer this time of day for your shopping because the store is the least crowded, and Keigo knows how you feel about interacting with strangers. And yet, you’re missing – something that makes him immediately pick up his speed, brows knitting together and his lower lip caught between his teeth. Eager eyes scan every sidewalk as he quickly makes his way to your apartment complex, every second that he doesn’t see you only furthering the feeling of dread slowly eating at him.

He’s near the point of whipping out his phone to call you and check the tracker he’d installed into your phone when he lets out an audible sigh of relief, having spotted your familiar form on the sidewalk below. You’re only a few blocks from your apartment at this point – and with a look of disgust, Keigo identifies the reason why.

There’s a man with you.

You’re standing and speaking with him, tucked away at the corner of the sidewalk, and immediately the feeling of panic is replaced by anger, his shoulders tensing up. As he swoops down and lands on the top of the building above you, he cranes his neck to get a better look at this man. Keigo’s never seen him before – you’ve never interacted with him in all the months he’s been watching you, leading him to believe that this man is a stranger.

Keigo taps his foot impatiently, trying to decide if this is good news or bad news. On the one hand, it’s always good news to know that you don’t have many men in your life – Keigo should be the only one, really, the only person, even, not just man.

But it also means that this stranger probably stopped you to strike up a conversation, which can only means two things – either the man is asking an innocent question, or he’s interested in you. Interested in you, as in wanting to date you, to kiss your pretty lips and hear you whisper those three words and bend you in half and make you scream and moan and gush-

Keigo grits his teeth, left eye twitching slightly at the mere thought of this man being brazen enough to approach you like this. And based off the way he keeps steadily stepping closer to you and you keep subtly shifting away from him, Keigo suddenly understands exactly what’s going on.

He hesitates for only a moment, a small pang of doubt registering in the back of his mind (wondering if this is how you look when you’re with Keigo himself, that annoying insecurity revolving around anything romantic and anything with you once again filling him with false worries), before he’s jumping from the rooftop, landing with a small grunt onto the sidewalk a few feet away from the two of you.

Clearing his throat, he walks with a bit more urgency than normal towards you, slinging an arm around your shoulder and leaning in.

What’re we talking about? Keigo asks, yellow eyes fixed on the man, any semblance of a smile gone from his face. His chest is puffed out ever so slightly, wings spread to make his physical presence as big as possible, to make him as intimidating as possible. Immediately you’re jumping, slightly embarrassed and slightly relieved at Keigo’s sudden presence. He feels you relax slightly against him and tries to ignore the way his throat goes dry and his pupils dilate – he’ll relive the memory of you feeling safe around him later tonight, but now’s not the time.

The man steps back immediately, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking at the hero sheepishly, guilt written all over his face. Keigo scoffs under his breath, examining the man’s face in closer detail. He’s somewhat attractive, and that same nagging voice comes back, idly wondering if you’d prefer brunettes like this man over blondes like Keigo, or if you preferred slightly taller men, because this stranger is easily a few inches taller than the hero. He frows, biting the inside of his cheek and willing the thoughts to go away – at least until he’s sorted this out.

Oh, Hawks, hey man, I didn’t – we’re not talkin’ about anything. Nice to meet you, miss. The man fumbles for his words, before quickly backpedaling and practically running the opposite direction, peeking over his shoulder every once in a while and wincing.

Keigo holds his ground, not moving, keeping those eyes locked on the man’s figure until he’s eventually a good block or two away. Only then does Keigo turn to you, his cheeks a little pink as he flashes you a smile. He’s still got his arm wrapped around your shoulder, and he gives you a small squeeze that he hopes isn’t too forward – he wouldn’t want you to get the idea that he’s after the same thing that stranger had been.

(Though really, isn’t he? He just wants all of you, not only your body – and he can take much better care of you, can’t he? Better than that gangly, sleazy man ever could, better than any other man ever could.)

He’s brought out of his small reverie by you profusely thanking him, telling him that the man had just approached you out of nowhere and you didn’t know how to leave the situation without it potentially escalating.

Keigo only smiles lazily, nodding at you and telling you not to worry, that he’s a pro hero, so it’s kind of my job, you know? Though for my favorite civilian, I don’t mind working overtime.

He winks at you after that, feeling only slightly anxious that you’ll find the action too arrogant, but you only blink owlishly at him, mumbling something about feeling guilty that it’s ‘overtime’. Keigo waves off your concerns, releasing your shoulder and trying not to show loss on his face.

You thank him again, smiling at him in a way that gets his knees very close to buckling, but he just clears his throat and nods, saluting you playfully and letting his wings flap, already a few feet in the air as he tells you to enjoy the rest of your night and to call him if any other creeps show up. You’re still smiling as he flies back over the roof of the building, but you don’t notice how he stops, peeking over the roof to see you make your way in the direction of the grocery store.

A small smile sits on his lips at the sight, smaller and more genuine than the smirk he’d been wearing moments ago.

Knew it, he thinks earnestly, already mentally predicting what you’ll pick up from the store. And as he hovers back into the air, cracking his neck and knuckles, he decides following you there couldn’t hurt – just in case any more men decide to mess with his woman. 

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Keigo’s obsession with you is overwhelming, terrifying, and pushes him to do a number of things that force his morals to be flung out the window of favor of keeping you safe, happy, his, but there’s still a few things that he can’t push himself to do, even with you in mind. One of these things is to steal you away.

 Kidnapping you is not something he wants to do – he may nurse a few beliefs about how you’ll eventually forgive him for being so obsessive and domineering over you, but Keigo isn’t stupid. He knows your image of him will never recover if he presses the chloroform-soaked rag up to your mouth and coos at you while you fall limp and into his arms.

He knows you’ll never truly forgive him if you wake up one morning in his apartment, breakfast in bed waiting beside you while he stares eagerly down at you, apologizing for having to be so extreme but trying desperately to convince you that he had no other choice, that he did it for you, that he did it to keep you safe.

He knows it won’t go over well, and Keigo already feels so unsure of how to properly court you and make you genuinely like him and not just Hawks that he doesn’t want to do something even slightly risky. He already knows that stalking you, breaking into your home at night to restock your refrigerator and lay beside you on your bed is crossing enough boundaries and grounds for you to be seriously afraid of him, but kidnapping you is a line he simply isn’t willing to cross.

At least, that’s how he initially feels – until something drastic happens, something that seriously threatens your safety and Keigo can’t just simply sit back and allow it to happen. And of course, it’s fucking Dabi – Keigo’s stomach drops when he hears you mention something about running into a man on your way over a cozy cup of coffee in a local café, the air warm and smelling of espresso.

He’d picked the café because he knew it wasn’t super busy – as much as his pride swells when civilians notice him and beg him for autographs and photos right in front of you, it also makes him nervous because the last thing he wants is to come off as cocky or arrogant or rude.

(Plus, the thought of making you jealous of his fans – especially the adoring women – gets his heart racing, his face and ears feeling hot because it makes him feel good that you’re being possessive over him, but he really doesn’t want you to worry. He’ll always be yours.)

But now he’s wishing it was full to the brim, voices chattering and making it difficult to hear the way you describe a man with so many piercings and a pretty serious skin condition came up to me, he knew my name! Keigo, why do you think he knew my name? Do you think I should be worried?

He’s stiff, every muscle in his body tense and his grip on the coffee cup in his hand so tight that it shatters, coffee and ceramic shards getting everywhere. He’s still staring at you, though, even as you gasp and stand up, running to grab some napkins and wipe up the still steaming coffee. There’s some on his hand but he doesn’t seem to care – to even notice, really, if the way he’s just staring and not even flinching is any indication.

Your brows furrow as you wipe the drink off of him, chest heaving slightly as you ask him if he’s okay, if it hurts, if he’s even listening to you. Keigo just swallows, still looking at you, before telling you with an unnervingly flat voice that it’s certainly weird, but I wouldn’t worry about it.

You don’t mention it again, instead trying to ignore the heavy atmosphere and the way he’s looking at you, all wide-eyed and not a single bit of emotion on his face. It’s scaring you, to be honest, and you’re quick to give him a small side hug and thank him for meeting you for coffee. Keigo mumbles something back as he watches you walk away, something prickling at the corners of his eyes that almost feel like tears as he imagines how Dabi could’ve possibly learned about you.

He’d been so fucking careful – always making sure to not let his phone ever directly point at your face or your address, never explicitly saying your full name in case he was being bugged, never even breathing any bit of information that the greedy bastard could get his hands on.

And yet, it’d all been for nothing – because now that Dabi knows about you, everything has changed. You’re in danger, because although Keigo believes that Dabi won’t immediately kill you, he can’t simply rely on his gut – you’re in danger. And although he’d promised himself he wouldn’t snatch you away, that he wouldn’t betray your trust and make you hate him, he doesn’t really have a choice now, does he?

And so, with a heavy heart and red, puffy eyes, Keigo slips into your apartment, the sleeping pills he’d mixed into your water sitting on your nightstand leaving you out like a light, even as he fabricates the crime scene. He’s shattering your window to mimic a home invader, tangling up your sheets and leaving dirty prints coming out your front door, your clothes ransacked and your television and computer destroyed.

It has to look real, after all – faking a death is difficult but he’s done it before, and as he soars away across town to his own apartment, with you clutched in his arms and your hair tickling his neck, Keigo can only whisper apologies against the crown of your head, squeezing his eyes closed and hoping that even in your unconscious state, you can feel how terribly, terribly sorry he is.

Of course, even though your kidnapping isn’t the idea situation for you or your captor, Keigo still tries to make the best of it. He doesn’t pretend to think that you’re happy with him – he expects the crying and screaming when you wake up the next morning, his expression carefully neutral as you accuse him of being a villain, a creep, even though it makes his chest ache in a way no injury ever has, his lips feeling numb because god, he can’t breath with how you look at him in disgust and hatred.

It’s horrible – but he grits his teeth and bares it, avoiding the pillows (lush and top-quality, of course, covered in sheets of your favorite color) you’re throwing at him, not saying anything until you’ve had your fill. And really, his explanation once you’d calmed down enough to listen to it isn’t nearly enough – he’s at a loss for words, really, looking at you with such honest eyes that it only makes you cry harder.

He’ll tell you that I need to keep you safe, and I – I’m selfish, so this is the only way. It’s lackluster and it’ll have you despising him, but as the days slowly pass, you’ll find yourself growing less and less enraged at him, instead growing more and more complacent about your new life.

Because really, Keigo absolutely fucking spoils you. He’s certainly not hurting financially, and he won’t bat an eye at buying anything and everything he thinks you could possibly want.

He’s getting takeout every night, ordering all your favorites (without having to ask you, of course, something that’d scared you at first, but there’s something about the way he eyes you as you eat it that makes you pause, his small, almost shy question of do you like it sounding rushed and nervous) and making sure to pick up snacks and goodies on his way home from almost every patrol. He loves to see you smile, and even in the beginning, when you’re still afraid of him and betrayed, the way your lips quirk up ever so slightly into the shadow of a smile when he hands you your favorite snack makes him gulp, something warm and overwhelming and hopeful bubbling up inside him.

He’s buying you pretty necklaces and jewelry that remind him of you, all the pieces startlingly within your tastes, his memory of the jewelry you used to wear so acute and strong that he knows your style even better than you do.

All of the clothing he buys for you (mostly comfortable clothing, lounging shirts and sweatpants and giant blanket ponchos) fits you perfectly, almost seeming to be tailored with the way they fit around your bust, hips, ass, shoulders, and thighs.

(He won’t buy you any formal clothing, however – he’s faked your death, and he can’t exactly take you out for a nice date now, can he? He wouldn’t mind doing a candle-lit dinner in his own apartment, maybe sprinkling a few rose petals over the table and cooking you something that he really, really needs you to like, but he knows you aren’t willing. You’d thrash and refuse, not eating his food and looking at him with those eyes, the ones that are hard and calloused and sting with pain. So, he instead purchases the pretty dresses with low tops and slits up the leg, storing them in his spare closet so that you never see them, so that you don’t feel forced into anything more than you don’t want. Kidnapping is enough – romantic dinners would be amazing, the kind of thing that Keigo thinks about with a small, sad smile on his face as he watches you sleep late at night, but certainly not a thing that could happen. Absolutely not – at least, not any time soon.)

He’s embracing each and ever artistic and creative passion you’ve ever had, buying you unfathomable amounts of supplies and instruments of the highest quality, waiting with baited breath to see if you like them, hoping with his hands clutched into fists at his side that you’ll smile at him, that you’ll look at him in anything other than hate – and perhaps, if he’s lucky enough, you’ll even thank him.

(Just the thought makes him shiver, a blush rising from his chest all the way up his neck because he can’t not immediately imagine the way you’d thank him – perhaps you’d give him a kiss, full of tongue and spit and moans, or maybe you’d even sink to your knees for him, telling him that you appreciate his thoughtfulness, his love, how he works so hard to keep me safe, won’t you let me thank you, Keigo? Please?)

It’s wishful thinking, of course, but Keigo tries to do everything humanly possible to keep you as happy as you can be given the situation. Of course, he’s still controlling, laying down rules that you’ll be too afraid to disobey, because although Keigo is soft with you and treats you like you’re made of glass, you’ve seen the televised fights, the way his knuckles are sometimes bruised after patrols, the way he snaps angrily into his phone when the Commission calls him with yet another assignment. He’s still dictating what you can eat, how much contact you get with the outside world, your limited sources of entertainment, anything and everything. But he tries his absolute hardest to respect you in every other way, if only to perhaps plant the seeds of you one day growing to tolerate him, of you one day even perhaps loving him.

And so, Keigo forces himself to do the hardest thing of all – not physically crowd you. He’s always wanted to be touchy with you, the years of not having anyone to hold or even give platonic physical affection causing him to be touch-starved, and so once you come into the picture?

Well, he’s only a man – he can’t help but imagine the way your hand would feel in his, fingers intertwined and your soft skin pressed against his own rougher hands.

He can’t help but imagine kissing you, feeling how soft and gentle your lips would be against his, how you taste, how you’d make little sighs and whines when he starts kissing you harder, deeper, letting even just the smallest sliver of his desperation for you shine through.

He can’t help but imagine pulling your body against his own, keeping every inch of you flush with him while you watch a movie together, his fingers toying absentmindedly with your hair, deep exhales sounding from behind you each time he leans in to catch a whiff of you.

He can’t not imagine the way you’d get all shy and bashful when the hand that’s been running up and down your sides suddenly dips lower, cupping at your ass while he lowly mumbles your name, telling you that he can’t hold back anymore, angel, can’t I have a taste?

He’s being good – he’s forcing all those urges and fantasies to the side, not putting you in a position where you feel forced into physical contact of any kind, sexual or otherwise. He’s respecting you, prioritizing you, even if it slowly destroys him. Having you right there, stuck with him, permanently bound to his side makes him want to grab onto you and never let go, to latch onto you like some sort of leech and take everything you have to offer and then some. It drives him fucking crazy, but he knows he’ll get nowhere by forcing anything onto you.

And so, he holds his tongue, forcing his hand to not reach out and touch, forcing himself to not say the compliment on the tip of his tongue that’ll likely make you more uncomfortable than flattered. He’s good, and eventually you’ll end up slowly coming to tolerate him. Sure, he’s kidnapped you and sure, you’re still understandably upset at him, but isn’t he right? You’d seen the man that approached you before Keigo stole you away – if he’d attacked you, what would you have done? You’d have hoped and prayed that Hawks would have shown up, that you’d been saved because you were too weak and incapable of doing it yourself.

So maybe he’s right – maybe you do need him, like he tells you late at night when he thinks you’re asleep. He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself, sounding more and more sure of himself as the night wears on and he repeats aloud that he’s keeping you safe, I’m keeping you safe, I know you don’t understand it now but someday you’ll realize that I only took you to keep you out of harm’s way.

And once you get past that barrier of hatred and animosity, it’s disturbingly easy to let Keigo take full control, to give into him in every possible way.

You’ll stop fighting his diet planning, you’ll gladly thank him for any book he gives you as entertainment, you’ll eagerly listen when he tells you about his patrol and how he encountered so many villains who’d done horrible things. And Keigo will notice this change in your attitude – it’s too early to tell and he’s always been too pessimistic to be hopeful, but you almost seem to be liking him. You’re starting to revert back to the woman he first became obsessed with – all smiles and laughter and snarky comments that left him choking on his drink.

And he can’t believe it – he has to pinch himself, staring at you in shock with a flushed face as you make some comment alluding to him being ‘too handsome for his own good’, the fork in his hand clattering down onto the plate. From there, it’s a steady trajectory up – you’ll start getting even more little knick-knacks, shiny things and expensive things that he leaves in pretty, bow-wrapped boxes for you, a card written in his best handwriting that says something along the lines of for my angel.

It’s cheesy and makes you laugh a bit, but Keigo keeps doing because god, please laugh like that again, say his name while you do it and maybe even reach out to touch his shoulder…

He jumps at the opportunity to further your changing opinion of him, determined to make you like him, determined to let him love you like he knows he can – like he’ll do anything to prove to you.

PUNISHMENTS:

As a general rule, getting Keigo upset with you is kind of difficult. He views you as his own personal slice of heaven, the only thing that he truly has. You’re the only thing that belongs to Keigo Takami, not Hawks, not the Commission, only him, and because of that he tends to idolize you.

You’re his first real romantic partner, his first real romantic experience, and the combination of that plus his intense, pitifully strong desire to please you makes it hard for him to stay angry at you for any significant period of time. And so, while he’s far from the ideal captor (too clingy, too controlling, too awed when he looks at you), Keigo will avoid punishing you at all costs.

He just doesn’t see the point – he doesn’t want you to hate him any more than you already do, and the thought of purposefully hurting you makes him feel physically ill. He hates seeing you in pain – it’s part of what drove him to steal you away, after all, the terror he felt at knowingly putting you in harm’s way. He’s protective and frankly anal about your health, and so to purposefully bruise your pretty skin or make you cry makes him angry enough to want to hit something, angry enough to literally writhe in his own rage.

And so, Keigo swears off any sort of physical altercations with you – he’s just too strong and you’re just too weak, and it would break him to know that he was the source of your pain and misery.

(He knows he is, already, but he can’t be the source of it physically, too, otherwise he might just shatter, feeling entirely numb and carrying out his missions like a robot, utterly unaffected by the world because he hurt you, and can he even call himself a decent hero, a decent man after that?)

However, while causing you physical harm is off the table, Keigo is realistic enough about your situation to know that punishing you entirely is something he can’t avoid. You will act out, he’s sure of it – he’d be concerned if you didn’t, really, and so he’s expecting you to lash out at him and try to hurt him. If he were you, he’d do it too.

But as much as he expects this behavior and wouldn’t fault you for it, Keigo knows that if he wants to make any progress, if he wants to give you even a chance at eventually growing complacent (it’s a selfish desire, really, but it’s the only route he can see to where you’ll be even remotely happy, or at least not fighting tooth and nail at all costs), he has to establish repercussions for when you’re throwing tantrums or acting poorly.

It feels condescending and Keigo hates it, but he decides that where physical punishments fail, he must rely on emotional ones. It’s manipulative and it makes Keigo feel dirty, disgusting, like a poor excuse for your so-called-protector, but it’s his only choice. He has to get you into shape, both for your sake and his. It’s the only choice, he swears.

You really hadn’t meant to stumble upon something you weren’t supposed to find, really. As a general rule, you don’t snoop through Keigo’s things – he’s a clean freak, first of all, the apartment he keeps you in minimalistic with everything in its correct spot. It’s classy and pretty, sure, but it’s boring, and can you really be blamed for wanting to explore after a few weeks cooped up in this penthouse?

Certainly not – which is how you find yourself tiptoeing into Keigo’s bedroom – he’d brought up the idea of sharing a bed multiple times only to be outright refused by you, and so he kept his things in this separate room. And it wasn’t explicitly off-limits, your captor never actually telling you that you couldn’t venture in. And so here you are, opening up the tall, wooden cabinet in the corner of the room and immediately sucking in a sharp breath at what you find.

You’d known Keigo had stalked you, the confession slipping from his lips early on into your captivity and the evidence difficult to deny.

(How else could he have known all your preferences before you ever voice them, knowing the way you like your morning drink, the products you use in the shower, hell, even the way you sleep – getting the pillows you like, pajamas similar to your own, even the type of sheet you prefer.)

You’d known, sure, but this – this is something else entirely. The cabinet’s housing a variety of items that send a chill down your spine because they’re yours.

An old bottle of perfume sits on the corner, the brand name smudged off from wear, and you bite your lip as you notice it’s still got just a bit left, though not nearly the amount you remember when it’d gone missing a few months ago. Your nose scrunches at the thought of him using your perfume, and bile rises in the back of your throat as you start imagining exactly how it’d been used, for what purpose and how often for that much to be gone.

There’s a few old lip balms sitting there, organized by flavor – cherry at the right, then melon, then mint, then peach and coconut. You don’t bother looking at them closely, too nervous to find signs of usage from someone other than you. (Which is good: the mint flavored Chapstick’s missing a chunk, with  what looks like teeth marks sunken into the material.)

There’s an old hairbrush you thought you’d left at a friend’s place, still a few tufts of hair left between the bristles, though something seems to be crusted against the handle, and you wince at the thought of what that could possibly be. You’re scared, really, your heart screaming at you to stop searching, begging you to not look deeper because you don’t want to know what else he’s stolen from you, but your mind urges you to keep going, some sort of sick urge to know exactly what he’s taken, why he’s taken it.

(Though, you think you already know – the way he leans in close to smell you when he thinks he’s being subtle is telling, as is the way he has you sort out your used period products into a separate waste container, telling you that it's because the pads he gives you are compostable. You’ve seen the way the bags linger, though, staying in his bathroom, blood sometimes sitting under his nails when he emerges, eyes dilated and licking his lips at you.)

But as soon as you spot the photographs, you crumble.

Of course you’d known he was stalking you, following your every move and watching you at your most vulnerable, but somehow this is worse – there’s dozens of them, stacked neatly in piles that you can’t even begin to understand. Leafing through them with shaking fingers, they only seem to get worse and worse, images of you laying on your couch, cooking, doing your makeup, changing into your bathrobe, sleeping, and oh god, there’s even one of you on your bed, legs spread and fingers thrusting and rubbing and oh god you’re going to be sick-

The photographs fall from your fingertips as you shakily take a few steps back, the sound of the front door opening and Keigo’s call of I’m home making panic swim in your veins. He’s quick to come find you, asking you in a voice that’s edging on concerned where you are, but when he steps into his bedroom and spots you against the far wall, hands covering your mouth and the wooden door open and askew, Keigo’s clenching his teeth, jaw working.

Oh, is all he has to say, and it snaps you out of your horror.

Oh? That’s it? That’s fucking it, Keigo? What – what is this? You’re sick, a sick freak! Why do you have my stuff? What’s wrong with you? You’re yelling, pushing yourself further against the wall, and he can only frown, irritation and worry eating away at him because god, hearing you so upset is physically hurting him but there’s nothing he can do.

You weren’t supposed to see that, it’s, uh… He trails off, mind racing and panicking as he tries to think of what to say, but you don’t let the silence sit for long.

There’s something wrong with you, you’re a fucking monster! You think you’re a hero? Stalking some poor civilian, stealing her shit, photographing her while she’s sleeping? You’re disgusting, a horrible, twisted, sick creep! Stay away from me!

You’re crawling backwards away from him as he comes towards you, his hands in front of him as a sign of peace. You’re crying, he can see, and it only makes his chest ache more, shame and self-loathing away at him because you’re right – he’s sick in the head, he knows it, but he can’t help it.

I know, I know, calm down, you’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t stop crying, angel –

It's the wrong thing to say and he immediately knows it, because you give him a glare that makes something sharp dig into his heart, so much so that he physically clutches at his chest, wincing and averting his eyes from yours.

I hate you, Keigo, you whisper, and it makes something ugly come from his throat, a mix between a gasp and a whimper. I hate you I hate you I hate you.

He’s frozen for a moment, before swallowing, nodding his head and blinking the tears out of his eyes. I know, he starts, before turning on his heel and walking towards the doorway to the bedroom. I know you hate me, but you’re stuck with me.

And with that he walks to the front door, slamming it behind him and leaving the apartment empty. You stay curled up on the ground for a few minutes, still crying and hiccupping, the influx of emotion making your head ache. You’d been here for weeks now, and you thought you’d moved on from these crying episodes, from these emotional outbursts, but something about the photos had opened the floodgates.

After another ten minutes, you shakily get up, still rubbing at your eyes and avoiding looking at the wooden cabinet. You all but sprint to your own bed – the bed he gave you, at least – and curl up on top of it, letting your eyes shut and exhaustion fall over you. It’s not until you wake a few hours later that you notice Keigo still hasn’t returned home yet.

That was odd – he’s not on shift, and it was the middle of the night by now. Where was he? Shaking your head, flashes of the photographs race through your head, forcing you to stop thinking of Keigo. The night is quiet as you make yourself something small to eat – a piece of bread and a small amount of the low-fat butter Keigo eats, the apartment still eerily quiet.

You fall into a restless slumber soon after, your dreams filled with the sensation of something – someone – watching over your sleeping form.

When you awake, there’s still no sign of him – everything’s quiet and empty, and you bite your lip, equal parts relieved that he’s nowhere in sight but also slightly concerned. The feeling looms over you as the day slips away, his presence still gone. It’s not until two days later that Keigo finally returns home, and by that point the paranoia at his absence leaves you perking up when you hear the faint jingling of keys.

You’re immediately on your feet, practically tripping as you run to the front door, eager for him to return, eager to not be all alone and scared – something you’d realized about a day ago. You’d actually been afraid of his absence. Perhaps it was survival, wanting to make sure you had enough food and someone with the locks to all the keys that’d be able to let you out, or perhaps it was that you needed him. Maybe you needed some human contact, the total silence and your inability to contact anyone driving you stir crazy.

Regardless, you wait with eager anticipation as Keigo opens the door, those yellow eyes immediately catching yours, his expression carefully neutral though you can see something behind the practiced apathy. It’s relief, you think, and something else – something more desperate, something more vulnerable, something that makes you launch yourself into his arms, nearly knocking the wind out of him as he stares wildly down at you, shock written all across his face.

He’d expected that you’d be relieved that he came home, happy to have your source of food and care back, but not this excited – he swallows, frantically trying to not focus on the way your body is pressing against his and how he can feel all of you, instead letting his arms hesitantly wrap around you, not wanting to scare you.

You’re saying his name, he realizes, and he furrows his brows, closing his eyes and letting the sound ring through his ears. It’s wrong to be enjoying your clearly distraught state and he knows it, but he can’t help it – you’ve never initiated physical contact like this before, and is it really such a crime to be enjoying it?

I’m here, angel, ‘m here, he tells you, petting a hand over your hair and letting you squeeze him tighter. Please never leave me again, Keigo, please!

You’re begging him, he realizes, and it forces him to hug you just a bit tighter, his wings coming down to join the hug to. Closing his eyes again, Keigo lets out a slow, deep sigh, relishing in the way you’re clinging to him for comfort, begging him to never leave you for a moment.

And as he whispers a small I’m yours, I’ll never leave you again, you can only nod against his chest, disgusted with yourself for this display of your dependence on him. Because really, when had you become so fond of your captor? The photographs are still on the ground in his bedroom, all the things he's stolen from you sitting in that damned cabinet, but you find yourself not caring.

As you breathe in the now familiar smell of his cologne, hear his heart pounding away in his chest, you find that you don’t care about anything, really – because perhaps what he’s been saying along is really true.

Maybe you are in need of protection, needing him to provide for you. Because you’d been left alone for three days, and what do you have to show for it? Panic, loneliness, fear that he’d left you behind? Maybe you really are just as weak as he makes you out to be – and as you slowly pull back from the hug, you find yourself ever so briefly being thankful for him.

Thankful that you’ve finally, finally found where you belong: by Keigo’s side, letting him fawn over you and keep you locked up like some prized pet.

OVERALL DANGER:

6/10

Keigo is less dangerous and more paranoid. He has so many alter egos and warring identities that once you come along, encouraging him to just be Keigo around you rather than Pro Hero Hawks or PLF Hawks, he can’t let you slip away.

There’s something about you that doesn’t leave his mind – perhaps it’s your mannerisms, your looks, the way you speak, how you walk and how you smell and how you think. Maybe it’s some twisted form of fate, or some long-repressed part of his quirk that’s beginning him to finally find a companion, a mate, someone to share himself with.

Regardless, once Keigo’s obsession forms, he’s a lost cause – he’s thinking of you constantly, unable to stop his mind from wandering into idle thoughts of what you’re doing or how you’re feeling. He finds himself unconsciously trailing behind you, watching over you from above with those sharp eyes of his narrowed in on your form, studying and memorizing the curves of your body underneath your clothing, the way you walk ingrained into him so deeply that when he closes his eyes all he sees is you.

His paranoia grows as his obsession does, too, the worrying realization that you’re weak making it difficult for him to ever part from you, anxiety swimming in his gut because what if you get hurt and he isn’t there to help you? What if you get into trouble and he isn’t there to swoop and be your savior?

(Some sick, twisted part of him almost wishes you would run into trouble, just so he could put himself into the position of being your knight in shining armor, of making you swoon for him, feeling the way you’d be so very grateful and want to make it up to him in any way you could. He forces the thought down, disgusted with himself for fantasizing about you being in danger, but during long nights where he tosses and turns in his too-empty and too-cold bed, the thought of you looking at him in such awe and gratitude makes something warm, wet, and shameful throb to life between his legs.)

He does eventually kidnap you, yes, but as time passes you’ll find that slowly you’ll stop caring about how he keeps you trapped by his side, how he controls your every day life, how he forces you into all sorts of loungey, comfortable clothing that always smells like him. Because really, Keigo is awfully pathetic – he thinks he’s good at hiding just how badly you affect him, but you can see the way he perks up when you enter a room, looking so hopefully and lovesick as he gazes at you that it almost hurts.

You’ll be able to tell how his heart is racing in his chest when you get close to him, his breath turning ragged and his palms so sweaty that when he wipes them on his pants they leave wet marks. It’s pathetic, sad, cute, and as time passes with Keigo as the only person in your life, slowly you’ll begin wondering if being loved by him isn’t bad.

Is what Keigo can give you – protection, adoration, reliability, devotion – really so bad? Is it so bad to just be loved?

And Keigo will be there waiting for you once you finally come around, his hands trembling as he hugs you, burying his face into your neck and you swear you feel something wet against your skin, his tears tickling you as his shoulders shake. He just loves you, and how cruel can you be to reject him, to leave him without the only person he’s ever cared for?

How could you be such a monster?

[leah-lover]

Doctor. Alexia putellas x reader.

Angst

As a medic of a football club, not having anything to do is considered a blessing. You are the happiest member of the team when a training session or a match goes without a hiccup. However, when an injury does in fact happen you train yourself to isolate your feelings and be as objective as possible with your patients.

As the years progressed you had a close relationship with the team, you considered all of them to be a part of the family. Especially your relationship with a certain captain you had caught a big crush for.

Being subtle about your relationship isn't as easy with Alexia being around almost all the time. You both tried very hard to keep your bodies off of each other which were successful most of the time.However, sometimes she would steal a kiss on your office, hold you waist, or just look at you with most love sick eyes when you were taping yet up.

Your relationship only got stronger during her ACL recovery. You were the chief doctor responsible for her rehab in which you did well and you were her girlfriend who held her at night when she had doubts about her career.

When Alexia first came back to the pitch you were very proud of her, you continued to support her and be there for her at every start and sub, and you celebrated the hardest when she scored.

The team didn't know about your relationship but they knew you two were close after her rehab.

Today was as usual as any other day. You started out the work day by checking out the girls, taping some of them before sending them off to the field. You would normally watch the girls train and observe if anybody was hiding an injury.

You were watching as usual when you heard a familiar scream. You ran to the field as quickly as possible.

“joder joder joder” yelled Alexia.

“ It's okay I am here with you. You are gonna be okay, is it your knee?.” You say brushing the hair out of her face.

“ No no, I am fine, just help me stand up.”

“ Ale no you need to be evaluated the way you scream, want normal and you like you are in a lot of pain.

“ I told you I am alright I need to train, just go “ she said while trying to get up and walk but she failed.

“ Alexia you are not playing another minute you either come with Me or I will bring out the stretcher. “

She complies with you after you give her a stern look.

Once you are inside your office she doesn't say a word to you but you didn't need her to, you knew she was in pain and she was afraid to show it. After examining her knee you knew that she affected the acl graft.

You sit down next to her, she is still looking at the ground and not saying a thing.

“ Amor, it's gonna be okay. I will be with you the whole way again. It's just a set back honey “

You see a tear come out of her eyes which you wipe with your thumb.

Alexia normally reacts every time you touch her but this time she was stiff and she still hasn't said a word.

You quickly get your stuff, give her crouches and take her home, leaving your responsibilities to your assistant.

When you get home Alexia goes directly to the couch and shuts down, so you follow her.

“ Ale let's go shower,we will do it together with some music just like you like.”

Still no response or even a look.

“ Okay enough babying get up right now it's not the end of the world you will get back up again.” You say hoping the thought treatment would help her snap out of it.

“ You don't know how I feel.” You barely hear her say.

“ Ale of course I do. You feel helpless, tired, and angry. That's how I feel too. yes this is happening to you but just fight for yourself just like I want to do for you.”

She doesn't respond to you but you see her close off on you.

“ Ale don't go there again. Please. Let's go shower and then we can talk.” You say and hold out your hand for her to take.

Once you are in the shower you strip her of her kit, and hold her under the warm water. You give her a few kisses before you wash her hair slowly and massage her scalp. She is still stiff under you but you continue to try and get the tension out of her body and show her that you are there for her.

Once you are done you help her back to your bed and you lay next to her.

Her acl scar is visible to you so you go directly to it and give it a few kisses. Alexia flinches at your touch but relaxed when you continue.

You give her more and more kisses.

“ Would you like to retry that thing we did the other day? I still have only a few hours left.”

She smiles at your request so you take off your robe.

“ Si . Doctora. ” She whispers.

[inkyquince]

Sincerely, Bailey (Commission)

characters. Bailey. (Hinted Briar. And Harper is Bcc'd out of worry)

cw. implied drunken bailey. violence, both physical and sexual. angry emotional bailey. mentions of sex trafficking, Robin slander. dubious consent of treatment of pc.

notes. Letter Commission for PippyLI! Once again, SO sorry how long it took to get out, having to do IRL stuff for a year basically sucked. Hope you enjoyed angry emotional Bailey! Thank you! Sorry i was FIGHTING to get this into an email format but oh my god it wasn't working at all.

From: CaretakersForYourNeeds@ub.com 

To: thorns@ub.com

Subject: 50% off Paneling for your Home, 5 Star Reviews Draft

B, look over this draft before I send it. 

Hello Customer! 

We are having a big sale on our boys coming in and sprucing up your home! Spend over £250 on our service and we shall knock off £20 to a whole new paint job for a whole room! Then £10 off for every third room painted! Spend over £500 on our service and we shall install new radiators for half price! 

Enough of that. If your wife reads further than that paragraph of what’s an obvious spam email, she’s too stupid to to be alive. Get rid of her and stop wasting my time. 

This is more of a courtesy email about your inquiry into one of our selections, number 209. I’ve been the caretaker of numbers 191 to 220 for a long time, and I can personally attest that that product is not suited for what you’ve outlined you wish to do. I know on their file it recommends consumers should enjoy taming, sadism, bondage at most in order to get any use out of them. However, in my professional opinion, they should be taken off the list and left to the gropers and rapists wandering the town, and the customers at the brothel. 

In my personal experience, they would have benefited to be put directly into the brothel  or the farm right away. Give them hands-on experience immediately rather than wasting time making them make money by themselves. They started out very promising in the beginning, very malleable but have proven to be a nuisance to both myself and the people around them. Either that or be put permanently underneath my care to make sure minor annoyances are kept at a minimum. 

They refuse to behave, even under threat of assault or worse. I do not think that anyone other than myself could handle them. Now, before I get a complaint from you, no, it’s not because I’m their caretaker and have paternal feelings towards them. I’ve watched them get their cunt stretched out by strange cocks too much to care about if they have a good time having sex. I would be helping the public by keeping them under lock and key. 

So my counter offer will be to take their friend, #201 in return. A whiny crybaby who reacts well to sadism. Of course, you might have to deal with them trying to save the little shit, but we don’t cover fees to do with losing a product halfway through your paid time. Just a warning. For a price of 30% of your original payment I could keep them busy so there’s no chance of missing out on your full 12 hours of paid time. 

I would be prepared to spend those 12 hours showing them exactly what happens when you don’t listen the first time. I’ve noticed that they become pliant to a rough fuck the longer it goes on, if they’re allowed to bite and get a few scratches in. No better than a mewling beast once all their thoughts go to their clit. They also seem fixated on riling me up enough to drag them down and fuck them. With other’s they bite and scratch and use pepper spray (I have no idea where they keep getting these, the supply in town is very limited), but despite the threats of shipping them off to the brothel or to a close friend, they instead fight. But no, they don’t fight me in a coherent, normal way, no, they’re diving for my cock and trying to make me cum while I’m trying to teach them to pay their rent on time. 

They love it. They love angering me, they love going into my office, they love offering up their body for a “one time” extension, even though they keep doing it, no matter how many times I ruin them against my desk, their cunt gripping me so tightly. Maybe they have a fucked up crush, or maybe they’re just sick in the head. 

But I can’t get rid of them, they bring in so much mney that I can’t kick them out. They bring in rent, they keep the other little shits quiet and they’re so fuckin good at their job that I have insane fuckheads like you asking personally to request them. But who cares, they clamp around a cock disgustingly tight, they suck down cock like it’ll divorce them if they don’t and now I have to write this breakdown on why you can’t experience that at 3am and getting hard while I do it. I never fuck orphans but apparently they live to make my day miserable and start off with a double of vodka with no fuckin mixer. All because some fuck came in after being kicked in the dick by this little shithead and wanted his fucking money back. I have to write fucking disclaimers now. What the fuck. 10 years ago we didn’t have to do this shit. What do you mean I have to spend 12 hours of my day fucking this Bin Baby so that they won’t wander away and save the most annoying boy I’ve ever met? What the fuck. The other day I had to fucking jerk off to when they buried their face in my crotch and whined for my dick. If it was anyone else, I’d kick them in the crotch until they would have to go to hospital. 

I have no idea what fucking crack their mother was smoking before throwing them in the dumpster but now I’m stuck with a little asshole who loves my dick and won’t fucking behave. You want to fuck that? Try to and you won’t be fucking found. I will fucking wring that stupid addictive scent of their body, their cunt, out of your skin, and sell it to the nearest freak. You want Morgan wearing your fucking skin for touching them? I’ll take your teeth so no one will ever fucking find you, but who would care, your wife? The one who might read a spam email? And doesn’t care that your dick hasn’t worked except for when she shit out your crotch spawn? You think I won’t fuck you up for the sake of your kids who are older than my fucking orphan? 

Fuck you and your ugly fucking kids. 

Sincerely, 

Blailey

P.S briar should i also add that if you stick your thumb in their asshole they tighten up enough that i can see stars? that the first time i fucked them i fucking said that their body always belonged to me? and it fuckin was and still is. i should break their stupid little boyfriend’s nose for thinking they own that little slut. the smell of their shower wash is fuckin insane but it isnt. makes me want to fuck their thighs and make them walk around all day smelling of cum. briar who even is this stupid fuck. 

From: thorns@ub.com

To: me

Bcc: Harper@nhs.com

Subject: RE: 50% off Paneling for your Home, 5 Star Reviews Draft

An insane person wrote this. No client will buy anything after reading this. Stop it.

-B

P.S. you misspelled money, as well as your own name. How. Are you smoking something that you aren’t sharing with the class? Also have you ever even heard of an oxford comma? Eden was the drop out, not you.

P.P.S. Don’t punch kids. Also stop drinking. 

[oacest]

My thoughts on the audio are that I genuinely cannot come up with a sane explanation. I don't think Liam was necessarily in the studio but he has to be talking about him, right? Like IDK there was some visual effect or whatever, literally who else could be the cunt Noel doesn't want to see. Beyond which I am not a proper scholar so please let me know if I'm way off base but I have an extended divorce theory that goes:

2009: Breakup, they're both big mad for a minute

201?-2012: They are texting and like, sending their kids to the same school. possibly the most normal they've ever been.

2013-2015: Liam blows his entire life up and is extremely sad about the consequences of his own actions. I saw actual video footage of Noel saying that he's shocked beady eye broke up and he's actually sweet about it and tells Liam not to give up? who is this man. anyway while Liam will later claim Noel wasn't there for him during the divorce but as a general rule they're much nicer about each other when they're divorcing other people. this is where I become extremely conspiratorial because at some point they had to get the documentary off the ground and a second, more personal breakup is clearly going down around this time. I believe in their ability to deeply wound each other by playing cryptic telephone through the press but I think it genuinely makes more sense if they were actually talking, perhaps about a potential reunion.

2016-2020: supersonic documentary and also (coincidentally?) the apocalypse. Liam launches his solo career, Noel hates it and is pretty relentlessly mean about it and about Liam more generally. we are gearing up for the kind of tweeting/podcast commenting where you call your brother your ex-wife. I think this is also when Noel decides to drag Molly into it for some reason. Liam says publicly that he thinks Noel was waiting for him to hit rock bottom so he could be magnanimous about saving him. whether he thinks this because of something concrete noel did or said or because he's liam is a mystery. the Anais incident goes down, the vogue article comes out. we are never ever getting back together for real this time. noel says a bunch of normal and well adjusted stuff about how he wants Liam to die in a self driving car crash with Donald Trump and seeing his face makes him want to shoot up a MacDonalds.

2020-2022: the pandemic saves oasis. I'm serious. they're both stuck sitting at home with nothing to distract them from themselves and think of brighter days. apparently being trapped in a house with noel is genuinely so unbearable that Sara calls it quits (in the matter of Sara v. Noel I'm on her side). presumably this was cause for at least some self reflection. divorce is a lonely and difficult experience, sara and liam seem to legit hate each other in a way that would be a barrier to reconciliation (in the matter of Sara v. Liam I am also on her side but less so bcs she didn't get trapped in a house with him). at the same time Liam pulls off Knebworth 2022, demonstrating he can handle big events without headcasing (and without noel, and he will be doing those big events solo or otherwise). at this point I genuinely think it was just a matter of time before we were back, baybeee! let's hope they can keep it together.

bro your brain is so huge and deeply wrinkled, profoundly agree with all of this. why you on anon when your opinions are so correct and you could be sharing them with us directly tbh 👀.

but yeah, 100% covid saved oasis lmao. noel's divorce saved oasis. noel's miserable midlife crisis (ongoing) saved oasis 🥰🥰🥰. and it juuuuuust really seems like all those insane highs and lows that went on publicly in the media between them over the years probably, or at least quite possibly, had irl personal catalysts rather than just a general holdover of ill will from the 2000s. there are so many random little times one or both of them casually mentioned they were in contact, and any one of those instances can be disregarded, but when considered in retrospect from a collective standpoint..... AWFULLY DAMNING!!!

lots more to say about all of this actually, every point you've made is legit af and could be expounded upon for a hundred years, but it's midnight and im coming down with a flu (punishment for some kind of hubris im sure), so. thank you for all of this and goodnight 🙏

[morgana-larkin]

Me againnnn lmao I have another request could u do Melissa x reader where reader is normally quiet but someone brought up their special interest and everyone is kinda weirded out coz reader gets so happy and starts talking about it and sharing facts and stuff but no one except Melissa knows reader is autistic and someone says something mean to reader and she gets upset and Melissa comforts reader and also stands up for her (as always no pressure I’m so so so happy! u r the first person that iv come across who writes fics about Melissa and autistic reader I get so happy when I see a notification from u i literally jump up and down with happiness and your fics really help me to accept im autistic coz I’m still trying to come to terms with it anyway hope u r doing well🫶)

OMG YES! Info dumping! I love it. And I’m so glad my fics are helping you. Feel free as well to message me directly if you ever want. So my other obsession besides Lisa Ann Walter, is Doctor Who and Jodie Whittaker, so of course I chose to have the reader talk about her as the Doctor… I regret nothing 😊. I went a little extra at the end but I’m too gay for Melissa to care. Anyway, I enjoyed writing this so thank you for the prompt and I hope you like it! As always, not edited in the slightest.

For everyone, feel free to keep sending me prompts, and I was thinking about writing a one shot about Cheesy as there’s not enough imo. Let me know if I should or not.

Title based off the song from Shrek 3 and the Italian word stronzo means asshole.

Thank You for Letting Me Be Myself

Warnings: someone is mean to reader, reader struggling with having autism(small part)

Words: 2.3k

You’re sitting in the break room at the table with Barb and Melissa. You get up to get a coffee and when you do you hear someone starting to talk about Doctor Who and you perk up.

You turn around to see Jacob, Mr. Morton and another teacher talking about it. “You guys watch Doctor Who?” You say and they stop talking and look up at you. Normally you’re quiet and don’t really say much as you’re recharging before you go and have to teach your kiddos again.

“Yes, do you watch it?” Jacob asks you and you nod with a big smile. Melissa looks up at you and sees your smile and she can’t help but smile herself. She’s had a crush on you since about 4 months after you started and it’s almost been 9 months that you’re working here.

“Well come here and share your thoughts about it.” Jacob says and you walk over to them, coffee in hand.

“What exactly is your discussion about?” You ask them.

“About the first female doctor, the 13th doctor.” Mr. Morton says and you keep smiling.

“She’s my favourite doctor! Like she’s so enthusiastic and passionate and she just loves everything about what she does! And she’s so funny too, it’s just a joy to watch Jodie play her!” You start and they look at you confused, wondering why you’ve always been quiet but now you’re talkative.

The truth is, you're autistic and the only one that knows is Melissa and she promised not to tell anyone since it’s your secret not hers. You told her because you felt like you kept missing social cues or taking things too literally, so you wanted someone in your corner to help you and she had no problem doing that for you. She looks at you talking so passionately about your favourite show with a smile and heart eyes before going back to her phone, secretly still listening to you.

“And her Tardis is so amazing, oh and her companion’s compliment her so well, and her outfit looks amazing. Did you know that Jodie helped decide on the outfit to support the LGBTQ community since she’s a huge ally. And also…” and you keep going on for about 5 minutes about how much you love the 13th doctor and her era on Doctor Who. Until the other teacher, you don’t know their name, the one Mr. Morton and Jacob were talking too, says something.

“OMG! Would you please shut up!” He says and you quickly shut your mouth. “I preferred it when you didn’t speak at all.” He says, glaring at you. And you look down at the ground, embarrassed before running out of there.

Melissa looked up when he started speaking and is now getting up and walking over to them. “Hey! Don’t talk to her like that. You should count yourself lucky that I won’t contact one of my guys on you.” She says and looks at Jacob. “Why didn’t you say anything?!?” She says to him “or you?” She says to Mr. Morton.

“Sorry Melissa, it all happened so fast.” Mr. Morton says and Jacob nods in agreement.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” She says to the teacher that was mean to you.

“Hey, we were just sitting here talking about it until she cuts in and starts talking about everything that we weren’t even discussing. And she wouldn’t stop talking.” The teacher says , only making a deeper hole for himself. Melissa glares at him.

“I don’t care what you think! There’s better ways to do that!” She says to him.

“She shouldn’t have talked so much and knew that it was too much.” He says, still trying to defend himself.

“She’s autistic you stronzo!” She yells at him and then realises that she just told your secret and has wide eyes. All 3 of them look at her speechless, now understanding that you got excited and were info dumping and didn’t mean to talk so much. Melissa turns around and walks out of the break room and goes to find you.

She ends up finding you in your classroom crying on your chair, hugging your legs. She knocks on the door, “hey y/n it’s me, just wanted to come check on you.” She tells you.

You get up and unlock the door then open it. Melissa’s heart breaks a bit when she sees you. Eyes puffy, red and watery, tear stained cheeks and red nose from you blowing your nose.

“Oh hun.” She says and you walk back to your chair hugging your legs again. Melissa walks in and closes and locks the door then walks over to your desk. “Hey, he was an ass, he shouldn’t have said that to you.” Melissa tells you and crouches down and you look at her.

“No, he’s right, I was talking too much. I shouldn’t have gotten involved in their conversation. I just got so excited,” you tell her and you sniffle a bit.

“Hun, it’s understandable, I know how much you love Doctor Who. You have nothing to be ashamed about.” She tells you and grabs your hand. “Btw I might have accidentally told them that you’re autistic. As in I told them and called that teacher a stronzo for you.” She tells you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to slip out, I just got angry that he was mean to you.” She says, rubbing your hand with her thumb.

“It’s ok, they would have found out eventually. But this is another reason I don’t engage in conversations, cause I might talk too much.” You tell her. Melissa gets up and opens her arms out.

“Come here.” She tells you and motions to hug her. You put your feet down on the ground and then hug her waist since you’re still sitting in your chair. “Why don’t we go back in there, finish lunch. And then after school you can come to my place and I can make you some food and we can watch whatever you want.” She suggests and you look at her surprised.

“Really?” You ask her and she nods. “I would love that.” You tell her and she smiles. She helps you up and then unlocks the door and opens it for you. You both walk out and she sees you’re nervous about going back. She puts an arm wrapped around your back and her other hand on the arm closes to her and rubs it, providing comfort for you.

You get back in and when you enter everyone stops and looks up at you. Melissa can feel you immediately tense up. “What are all youse looking at?” She says and glares at everyone. Everyone immediately looks back down to their phone or food and continues what they were doing. Melissa leads you back to the table where Barb is and Barb gives you a comforting smile.

The teacher that was mean to you gets up and comes over to you. Melissa sees him coming over and glares at him, almost daring him to hurt you again. He has his head hanging a bit, looking embarrassed and stands beside you and you look up at him.

“Hey y/n, I just wanted to apologize to you. I shouldn’t have said what I said to you, I’m sorry.” He tells you and you nod your head at him. You’re too overwhelmed right now and can’t speak. You finish your lunch without saying another word and Melissa keeps glancing at you, worried about you.

You finish up the day quietly. You get the kids to work on their book report so that it’s silent and you don’t have to talk much. At the end of the day, when your last student was picked up you glance over at Melissa down the hall. You taught first grade so your classrooms are close together.

You can’t help but stare at her. She’s bending over and offering one of her students a high five before waving bye to them to go with their parent. You decide to leave now while she’s distracted, you think that maybe it wasn’t the best to get Melissa involved in your situation and shouldn’t have told her you’re autistic. So many people have had to accommodate you or help you and you feel like you should be able to do it yourself now that you’re an adult.

Melissa sees you look at her with a sad expression on your face before leaving. She can’t help but feel like maybe you won’t come over to her place now. When her last student is leaving with their parent a couple minutes later, she practically books it to the parking lot but sees your car is already gone.

She drives home and gets to work on cooking dinner, hoping you’d show. But then she gets a text from you saying that you won’t be able to make it tonight, and she sighs. She researched autism when you told her a few months ago and she knows that when autistic people get overwhelmed, they hide themselves away. She offered for you to come to her place to de-stress with food and tv, so she does the next best thing. After she finished cooking, she packed it into a container, and brought it with her to your place. She went and knocked on your door.

You answered it not too long later with leggings and loose shirt on. “Melissa? What are you doing here?” You ask her.

“Well since you won’t come over to my place, I thought I’d come to you.” She says with a warm smile and you now feel even more guilty for cancelling on her. “I brought over food I made. So either we can eat here or we can go back to my place. Choice is up to you.” She tells you with a shrug. You decide to go to her place and when you get there she gives you your favourite hoodie of hers and you sit on the couch. You’ve been to her place before and you told her that the plastic felt weird to sit on and she removed it the next day so that you’re comfortable when you go there. “Hey, you don’t have to speak but I just want to know that you’re ok.” She says and you nod. She gives you a plate of the food and you see that it’s her spaghetti and meatballs dish. Your favourite food of hers and you smile at her. She joins you on the couch, sitting next to you and then hands you the remote so you can decide what to watch, you decide on Shrek 3.

You watch the movie while eating, with Melissa right next to you, you in her hoodie, and you finally feel like you’re calming down. You put your head on her shoulder after you put your empty plate on the coffee table and she wraps her arm around you. You continue the movie, quoting some of the lines, and when it plays the ending scene with puss and donkey singing thank you, Melissa gets an idea. She guides you up and leads you to the empty space beside her couch and starts dancing with you. When the chorus comes on she sings it to you “I wanna thank you for lettin me be myself…again” She sings and you laugh. When she says the line again, she spins you while singing. The second chorus comes up “come on sing it with me.” She tells you.

The both of you sing it while dancing “I WANNA THANK YOU FOR LETTIN ME BE MYSELF…AGAIN.” You both sing at the top of your lungs. When it ends you’re both laughing and she hugs you.

“Thank you for letting me be myself.” You tell her and she looks at you with a warm smile and places a lock of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek.

“It’s not a problem hun, it doesn’t matter to me that you’re autistic you know. You just think differently, and that's alright.”

You look in her eyes and you lean forward and kiss her. Melissa kisses you back and moves her hand from your cheek to the back of your head and places her left hand on your waist. You pull back and look at her with a smile.

“You kissed me back.” You say to her and she nods. “Why?”

“Because I like you. I have for a few months now.” She tells you.

“For how long?” You ask her and she thinks about it.

“Around the new year.” And you look at her in shock.

“But that’s after I told you I was autistic.” You tell her, putting the pieces together. “You knew I was autistic and you still like me?” You question her.

“How would you being autistic make me not like you?” She asks you, confused.

“Because I’m different than other people and have struggles because of it.” You tell her like it’s obvious.

“So? Everyone is different in their own way and everyone has their own struggles.” She tells you. “For example, I have trouble letting people in, because of trust issues. And I can have a short temper too.” She says and you look at her with so much love in your eyes. You kiss her again and she doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back.

When the person says “you may kiss the bride” , she doesn’t hesitate to give you a kiss then either. With a huge smile, she brings you closer to her and gives you a kiss, as wife and wife.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

Let me know if you want to be added! 🙂

[ssturniolo]

Can you please do a angst w matt? Where the reader has a crush on him but he rejects her, if you want to ofc!! 💕

Dream come true

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 - Matt x fem!reader

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 - after rejecting y/n, Matt realizes he’s made a big mistake.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - Rejection, angst, kissing, sorry if I missed any. (Not proofread)

You’ve had a crush on Matt for as long as you can remember. It started out as something small when you were kids, but as you grew, the feelings did as well. It has gotten to the point where you just can’t hold it in anymore, you have to tell him.

You were all nerves as you drove to the triplets house, after sending Matt a “can we talk?” message. Arriving at their house, you took a deep breath as an attempt to calm your nerves. You unlock the door with shaky hands, hoping that Nick and Chris aren’t around.

As you enter the living room, you notice Matt already sitting on the couch, waiting for you. “Hey there” he says with a welcoming smile, patting the space besides him on the couch. You sit down, avoiding his eyes and instead, look down at your trembling hands.

“Y/n what’s wrong?” Matt says softly, lifting your chin to meet his gaze.

“You know you can talk to me.”

Mustering up the courage, you take a long shaky breath, and look directly into his beautiful blue eyes. “I…I think I love you Matt” you say awkwardly, not waiting for his response before continuing. “It started when we were kids, and as we grew up together, well… my feelings grew I guess” you say, your voice thick with hope.

After a moment of silence, Matt sighs, taking both of your hands in his. “Y/n, I’m so sorry but I just don’t see you like that” he says quietly, avoiding your eyes. You pull your hands away, your cheeks tinted red with embarrassment.

“Oh… it’s ok. I’ll get over it” you say, standing up, keys already in hand.

Seeing his remorseful expression, you sigh.

“I’ll be ok, I promise.”

“I should probably go though, I have um, stuff to do” you say, giving him a tight lipped smile. As soon as you walk out the door, you let the tears fall. How were you this stupid? Of course he wouldn’t like you back.

***time skip***

It’s been two months since you had confessed, and things were pretty much back to normal. Although Matt never brought it up, there was now this undeniable tension between you two and you hated it. You mostly hated yourself for putting you guys in this position, and you would never make that same mistake again.

Sitting on the triplets couch in between Madi and Nick, you scrolled through TikTok, uninterested in the movie they were watching. You stand up and stretch, walking over to Matt’s bathroom, shouting a quick “be right back” to Nick and Madi.

Opening the bathroom door to head back to your previous spot on the couch, your surprised to see Matt standing there.

“I need to talk to you. Alone”

Immediately nervous, you think about the last conversation you guys had alone, fearing what might come out of Matt’s mouth. Reluctantly, you follow him into his room, sitting next to him on his bed.

“I was thinking about what you said to me a couple of months ago. And um, my response” he says nervously, looking down at his hands.

Shaking your head, you give him a sad smile. “It’s alright Matt, you don’t need to bring this up, I told you I’m fine” confused, as to why he would bring this up again.

“No y/n, it’s not that” he says, turning to face you.

“It’s just… I realized I made a mistake. These last two months have been torture, and I can’t stop thinking about you. Your kind, intelligent, caring, beautiful, and so fun to be around” taking ahold of your hands, he continues.

“And that’s why- that’s why I love you” he lets out, finally meeting your eyes.

“You… you love me?” You whisper, completely shocked at his confession.

Reaching out to cup your cheek, he nods, pulling you into a firm, but soft kiss. One hand tangled in his hair, and the other resting on his jaw, you tilt your head, deepening the kiss.

You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. The man you thought you could never be with, was now kissing you as if you were the only girl in the world. This was simply a dream come true.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Ik this is different then what you said, but I hate the thought of being rejected by him😭. If you want me to redo it where they don’t end up getting together just let me know. Honestly not my best work but it’ll do 🤷‍♀️. Next fic will be Chris I promise.

XOXO - Zoe

[i-wanna-die-like-now]

Dp x bnha headcanons part 2! Or just weirdly specific things I see happening, idk just my thoughts on stuff.

Tsuyu gets super sleepy around Danny because of his ice powers and almost always struggles with being directly next to him, unlike Todoroki he doesn't have a warm side she can stick to.

Iida almost breaks down when Danny refused to listen to his rules by clicking on his aids (suppression for his sensitive hearing) Bakugou on the other hand finds it hilarious and takes to turning his own aids off when he no longer wants to listen.

Sato invites Danny to his weekly “sugar time” to teach him how to bake as a favour, Danny is surprisingly good at it and eventually him and Sato work together to include ectoplasm into their baking (without it coming to life) so Danny could top up his energy.

^^Bakugou refuses to let Danny near him when he cooks because of that very reason, he'd seen what his ectoplasm can do to food, he does still cook for him on occasion because he's never seen anyone savour his food the way Danny does! It most definitely goes to his head. Danny savours the food because 1. His parents can't cook to save their life. 2. Bakugous food is so much better than any type of take out and 3. He never knows when his next proper meal will be back home and is taking full advantage.

Danny goes to Hatsume for help with making a Fenton thermos (just in case) and she falls in love with the blueprints because what in the world was that layout, it's a mess that she finds thrilling to decipher it. Actually talking to Danny she realizes that no its not a mess he just has ADHD and can't write it down in a way anyone but him understood. (Danny is a genius and you can't convince me otherwise, he just has untreated ADHD 😭)

When Toga drinks Danny's blood her body has trouble with picking what form she changes into and they merge together, eyes changing and flashing in between green and blue and her hair being a mix of black and white. Her face almost looks exactly like Danny but something is off, his eyes are a little too big, his ears are a mix of pointed and normal and his skin has blotches of tan skin and deathly pale. She is fascinated with his green blood though and really wants to taste it, when she finally does get to it burns her tongue and throat and leaves her craving more. (If she separated the ectoplasm from the blood, which is virtually impossible, she'd be able to use the blood for Fenton and ectoplasm for Phantom. Because its the same DNA her quirk registers it as one person when mixed together and that's what causes them to blend)

Stain on the other hand would hate the taste and then finds out his quirk doesn't actually work on him properly, it makes his body heavy and very hard to move but it doesn't paralyze him completely because of the ectoplasm. He also definitely sees the potential Danny has.

Danny info dumps about space to everyone and everything at any chance he can, someone asks a question that shows they have a mild interest in the subject and he's off like a rocket. Izuku joins in with his own info dumping about heroes and their quirks, it somehow merges together and they start talking about space quirks and space themed heros.

Uraraka brings up sending him to space with her quirk halfway through a disagreement and Danny straight up drops it and asks her is she would. "Don't worry I can survive if I'm in my ghost form, it's for science! Hey- No wait don't walk away!" He ends up moping around for a whole week after and when Aizawa asked why he loses 5 years off his life. "Please don't ask your classmates to try and kill you." "But sir I'm already dea-" "get out!"

He duplicates himself so he can hold both of Eris hands to swing her, Eri loves to try and figure out which one is the original and she's surprisingly good at it.

Todoroki uses his fire side to help with Danny's chronic pain, after a while it becomes a habit to hold hands and all their spare time they're glued to eachother, neither of them are complaining.

[scenetocause]

This isn't a kiss prompt but I didn't know who else to send it to. Given you're into fisting would you ever write urethral play? Rule 63 pretty please and ignore this if it's not your thing!!!! Thank you for your service 💋

anon i need you to know this is the most horrifically targeted ask in history and i am found out. called out. seen. it's taken me days to respond because i'm having conniptions. let's all never meet at the satanic ritual again if you sent this no you didn't if you read this no you didn't i absolutely definitely didn't write it.

this seemed to fit very perfectly to pussy exploring champion genders maxy. warnings for what this is and inevitably a bit of piss.

Luisa says no straight away, tells Lando to watch more normal porn. He looks suitably ashamed of himself but also directly at Max, who hasn't replied yet.

"Err," she's not. Well she's seen it, obviously, back in the Formula Renault days when everyone was trying to one-up each other about what they'd whacked one out to. But she doesn't think about that type of thing too often, now. Doesn't exactly need to.

"You are not," Luisa looks scandalised. "No way."

"I dunno," Max argues. "It's - well. It's interesting, maybe?"

Luisa makes a very disgusted sound, like she's about to call them both idiot boys but doesn't want to offend Max. "Not when I'm here. Could you get back to-" she gestures between her own legs - "now, please?"

It's something Max is beyond happy to do, especially when Lando slides up behind where she's bent over, sticks his dick in Max's pussy while her tongue's up Luisa's, fitting perfectly between them.

It's a few weeks later when the opportunity presents itself. Luisa's away, Lando's received a few suspiciously plain parcels, Max is feeling restless and horny but doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of riding his dick for a second time in a day. Bloke wins one race and thinks he's got free use or something.

Max might let him. One day. For a weekend or something. If he wins a championship. For now, though, she's curious about this.

When Lando pushes her back into the duvet, one of his hands behind her waist to maneuver her so she's settled nicely against the pillows, it feels like the right time to ask. To shimmy her legs around his, so she can hook her ankles behind his thighs and hold him there, just in case actually saying it makes either of them nervous.

In the end she can't quite get it out, anyway. "Do you want to try - putting something up. You know?"

"Fuck." Lando clearly wasn't expecting her to ask that, has to collapse on her a bit. "Fuck, really? Yeah - yeah, if you want to."

"If it's shit we can do something else, yeah?" Everything on PornHub was a bit rancid, Max is pretty sure she's not going to be doing any of that. But it's nice when Lando tongues her there, sometimes. Weirdly soothing, if her cunt's a bit achey from fucking.

Lando moans into her collarbone, kisses her under the ear before a breathy confession. "I'm glad it's you - I knew she wouldn't really be, y'know."

There's a thing, with them. That they do stuff together, sometimes and it's different from with Luisa. When they're all fucking it's great, so good but sometimes Max and Lando almost try stuff on, before they take it to her. Just to get the knack first, really.

"Better get, y'know. And a towel." Kicking him off the bed to go and find everything feels a bit mean but also fuck is Max going to do it herself. It gives her time to kick off her own shorts, leave her in a soft, comfy crop top Lando can see her nipples through, anyway.

When he gets back he drops some stuff on the bed, kneels back to take his own shirt off. It's a nice view, lot of abs and shoulders and Lando's tight, dark nipples. He's so built now and Max can't really bring herself to get jealous about it, with her own body to explore, these days.

Lando wastes no time in pushing her thighs apart, big hands spanning them. His thumbs are massaging the crease, spreading the outer lips of her pussy immediately and she can feel where she's wet with anticipation, the slide easy.

"Towel." She can't be bothered to do laundry after this, is pretty sure she'll want Lando to hold her.

He shakes his head like he's trying to snap himself out of something. "Right, yeah."

Lando picks one of her thighs up, props it on his own hip while he's dipping his fingers beneath her hips, rubbing them over Max's arsehole. "I'm gonna start here."

"Well it's not there." Surely he knows that?

"Nope." Lando looks smug and ashamed at the same time. "I wanna fuck you here."

It punches the air out of her, sometimes. The way Lando wants her, wants Max. He's got a bit of a thing for anal anyway but because they did this before, when Max was a boy, it always feels natural with them.

"Ok, yeah."

It's so nice, wet fingers playing over her and dipping inside, she almost forgets they're not just doing that this afternoon. Feeling stretched around Lando's fingers isn't as good as his cock but it gets her in a relaxing kind of mood, concentrating on making the tension leave her body, letting the anticipation build.

"Your arse is so good." It's a bit embarrassing how basic compliments still get her - of course her arse is great, Lando's lucky he gets to do it but appreciation is always nice.

"C'mon," she wants her clit touched, feeling wet and swollen.

Lando doesn't do that, although he takes his fingers out of her arse, carefully wipes them on the towel underneath her, then frowns and gets up to go and wash them in the sink.

For a minute, she thinks maybe it was messy and wants to die a bit, making a questioning noise when he gets back.

"No - just. Should be sterile, innit?" Oh, yeah. Max doesn't really want to be pissing blood any time soon. It's nice, that Lando cares this much about her. Makes it easy to part her legs, wide and prop them a bit like an uncomfortable doctors appointment, much easier with Lando's thumb rubbing over her clit.

He wriggles down on his belly, disappearing from her view and Max closes her eyes, tries not to think too much about the view he's got. Her arse, glistening with lube and still twitching a bit from the intrusion. Her pussy, puffed up with how turned on she is and sopping wet where he's spreading her open, looking inside.

It makes her gasp, when she feels that he can see it, from the sudden air. It almost makes her want to pee but then Lando's mouth is there, wet and as soothing as she remembered it.

The catch of the tip of his tongue over it makes Max blush. It feels very possible, suddenly, that something could go up there. When Lando sucks on it a bit, gentle and warm, she wants to relax it, pee in his mouth just a tiny bit and it's a weird, mortifying thought that drags a harsh noise out of her, shocked at herself.

The exhale makes her let go, just a tiny bit and then nearly try to scramble off the bed, if Lando hadn't been there to hold her down with his hands round her hips.

He looks at her, aggrieved and with a wet face. "You know I am trying to make you do that?"

"Oh." She'd sort of known - you can't get round piss being a bit involved, can you? But not in his mouth, maybe. Should've know Lando's a fucking freak.

"Relax, Maxy." She settles back and he dives back in, licking her all over for a few minutes before getting back to sucking over her peehole, soft and warm.

This time it's more deliberate, when she relaxes. It's not a lot, not even a dribble, really, just a few drops from her opening up for him.

Lando grunts in satisfaction, stops sucking to lick over her, dipping his tongue further into her pussy. It feels a bit urgent, suddenly, to get attention there or to piss properly.

"C'mon, do the thing."

"Yeah?" Lando sounds a bit gargly, like he is on team radio sometimes. "Can I put it in you?"

He sounds so hopeful Max forces herself to stay relaxed, not tense up with anticipation. "You can try. Y'know, with lube."

The sound Lando's got in his hand isn't big - probably the smallest he could order, with a safely rounded tip. Max is pretty sure that's her limit, isn't interested in anything that would stretch her out there, just something that will fit.

Lando sloshes so much lube it feels like her pussy is squelching and it takes him a moment to get a good enough grip to open her back up, with the forefinger and thumb of his left hand, while he's aiming.

Trying to relax, feeling the round tip of the sound against her, she feels the hot splash of some piss escape her and Lando uses all those F1 reaction times to push it forward, just inside.

It's. So weird. Nothing like her arse or her pussy, almost feels like she can feel it in her clit. Makes her wriggle down, get her legs further apart and-

"More." She sounds hoarse, embarrassed and Lando just hums like he's mesmerised, fucks the sound a little deeper.

She feels the moment when it's in, partly as relief that the ball part is past and only the smooth, silicone stick is being squeezed and partly as a rush of heat between her legs, leaking.

It must make her make a noise, although Max isn't sure she could've heard herself over the blood rushing through her ears. Still, Lando responds. "It's so hot. Fuck, Max, does it hurt?"

Sort of, would be her honest answer. It's not comfortable, at the same time as it feels incredible. Filthy, special, like she's going to come insanely hard as soon as Lando does anything else to her.

"Not really. Not, like, bad. I like it." It feels shocking admitting that, almost the same gut-punch as when she'd had to say the opposite about racing.

Lando tuts. "I'm going to-" he tugs on the sound, gentle. "Take it out. Want to get you off."

She doesn't have the words to say that'll probably do it. That she might come when he's pulling it slowly out. By some miracle, she doesn't because Lando's mouth is back there, suddenly. His right thumb, freed from holding the sound, is on her clit and she's definitely wetting, a little bit, when her thighs clamp around his head while she's shaking through it.

When she lets him go Lando drags himself up like he's just done a brutal workout. His face is red with heat or horny or both and his mouth is dripping, goatee soaked.

"Fuck, I'm not gonna be able to-" he's shoving his joggers off, cock springing free with a spider-web trail of precome to the fabric. "I'm - fuck, Max."

He's coming over her pussy, splattering her pubes, before he's even really got a hand on himself, fingertips loosely rubbing himself through it.

Lando moans, collapsing on the bed next to her. "I know we've got to - give me a minute."

She rolls over, pulls his face against her tits. "Thank you, buddy."

Lando makes a sort of affectionate noise, burrowing into her chest. "Can't believe - yeah, good. So good, actually."

He runs her a bath, when she gets up to pee. Sits behind her in it until they're both pruning and the water's getting cool, their bodies warmer than what's around them, pressed together.

[keepthedelta]

Maybe I'm being overly cynical (I Do Not know these people and this is just my outsider view), but the whole 'Piastri family social media' stuff has made me uncomfortable from the start because (to me) it gives off huge 'chasing clout and followers by using my famous family member'

None of them were particularly active social media posters before, none of them had an interest in influencing or building a career from it. But, suddenly now Oscar is more popular they are posting A Lot. (For comparison, someone like Max's sister has definitely used her brother to her advantage in gaining a following and popularity, but, she also seemingly always had an interest in fashion and makeup and having a career in it + her posts are not about Max/F1 directly)

It's only going to cause headache and pain and sorry, if my brother was famous, I would not want to even remotely see people thirst trapping him or shipping him romantically with people. Why would you invite that into your space. Also, if I was on Oscar's PR team I'd be fucking worried because what happens if your mother or sister says/posts something that is controversial or actually bad. That now will have a huge audience and actually affect how people see Oscar, and he will be obligated to comment on it. And, if he doesn't, it will be to his detriment (See Max and the Piquet family)

Obviously, fans should just act fucking normally, but we all know that isn't how things work on the internet. You sometimes have to take steps yourself to avoid getting into those situations.

see i personally don't view it as them using him for clout because i think that it is at minimum a symbiotic relationship from which they both benefit. i am a long time hater of the piastri family socials, but i have disliked it because in my personal opinion oscar's family are being used as fodder for his pr.

you say they weren't really active before oscar's career in f1 but even if they are seeking to become influencers etc. which i cannot confirm or deny because i don't know them and frankly have no interest in them, the main reason imo that they did become more active was for oscar. it seems as though his pr is very much trying to portray him as a normal, down to earth relatable kind of guy. a gen z kimi raikkonen who is very calm and level headed (even if he's nothing like kimi, nor honestly is kimi like that). and it benefits oscar (and by extension his pr team) for him to have a cool mum who says funny things on twitter and cool young sisters interested in kpop etc. who aren't impressed by him. his image benefits from the "normal family guy" aesthetic.

there's a reason dts wanted to film him having breakfast with his family. his family has become a part of his media strategy. his mother goes on podcasts or whatever as part of his pr strategy. she is there to talk about him and to promote him without it seeming like promotion. you think if oscar or his team didn't want that she would still have gone on? i don't. that's not to say she's being disingenuous or inauthentic, but i'm sure someone went through roughly what media narrative they wanted to tell and how she should tell it. they are part of oscar's media strategy. they're there to make people think that he's normal and just some guy who happens to be an exceptionally talented driver.

i don't know if his family are benefitting from his fame or to what extent they may be but it's not oscar who should be worried about fan response to his family, it's them. they are being used as a proxy personality for him (and i know that sounds mean but it's not intended as criticism of oscar himself) and at some point things are going to get nasty. what happens if oscar and lando get into an actual wdc title fight at some point? what happens if the chirlies or cultLH turn on him and his fans? oscar has the protection of being a famous f1 driver. his family don't. people will send death threats to his sisters or turn up at his mum's house. they'll search through everything they've ever posted looking for a miniscule detail to cancel them over and justify their hatred and abuse.

everyone involved in this, oscar, his family, his pr team, mclaren, their pr team, needs to recognise that enabling these parasocial relationships, letting people think of oscar's mum as their friend or mum figure, letting people think it's okay to send his sister rpf as though she's their friend is not acceptable. there do need to be boundaries (frankly i think that all f1 drivers need much stricter boundaries than they currently have because some fan behaviour is worrying. people have already shown up at charles's house this is not a worst case scenario it's already happening) for the safety of everyone involved.

i do also think there's something to be said about fan culture and the increasing entitlement to a public figure's life. as fans i think we all need to be a lot more respectful of these people, whether they're famous or simply connected to someone famous. at the end of the day they are people and should be granted basic respect and privacy because they are people. we do not know them, we are not friends with them. how we feel about them should have no bearing on their lives.

but public figures personal lives are increasingly being used for promotional purposes and i think they need to recognise that they are feeding the entitlement and aggression of fans when they do that. the reason why fans get more and more demanding is because people keep offering up more of themselves and their families for promotion. and i think that needs to stop before someone gets hurt.

[vivalas-vega]

hello again! I was the anon who asked if you were taking requests for Phoenix 💞 lord knows I've spent too much time on the #natasha trace x reader tag HAHSAHAJS tumblr needs more nat content (I'm pleading on my knees 🧎🏻‍♀️)

I was thinking about Nat having a girlfriend but struggling to come out to her friends. She has been dating reader for long enough that they've moved in together and has yet to mention to them that the reason she's been leaving the hard deck earlier than usual is because she has a girlfriend at home.

She thinks nobody suspects a thing but bob found out somehow (it's up to you) and asked her directly. She gives up the facade and tells him everything and they have a long talk about her struggles with her sexuality and her fear of coming out to her friends and actually showing off her gf. That night, she talks to her gf too and decides she's going to finally introduce reader to the dagger squad.

I would looooove to see their reactions on this, bc in my head, everyone must've thought she was into guys like hangman or whatever and she's shows up with this pretty girl by her side. They're already planning on who's gonna get her number first and nat just "uh.. guys this is my girlfriend😄"

Just super fluffy and kinda angsty too? Maybe throw in some smut if you feel like it 👀💞 It's totally up to you!!!

mwah!💋

- Syd

syd !!! thank you so much for sending this in, I absolutely loved this idea and I hope I did it justice!

The Hard Deck wasn’t as crowded as it usually was and Phoenix was grateful for the breathing room as she sipped her beer at the bar and checked her phone, letting you know she’d be leaving soon… Friday night was always bar night for the squad, a way to relax and unwind heading into the weekend after a long week of training and she really loved it… it was always fun getting to spend time with them, the squad had turned into its own little family but that didn’t stop her from always being the first to leave to get home to you as quickly as she could. 

No one knew about you yet… she’d wanted to tell the team for weeks now but every time she thought she worked up the nerve she backed out at the last minute, anxiety overruling and shutting it down before she could even get the words out. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t even notice Bob slide into the seat next to her until he was tapping her shoulder and pulling her focus back to the present.

“Hey Nat, can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked softly as she nodded, turning to give him her full attention. “Why haven’t you told anyone you have a girlfriend?” he whispered and her eyes widened at the question… she’d been thinking he might want to talk about the training exercise today, she’d made a decision in the air he didn’t agree with and it was normal for them to talk it out afterwards but this felt like Bob had dropped a bomb on her.

“What do you… how did you know?” she asked and he gave her a soft smile.

“Overheard you on the phone at lunch,” he replied and she thought back to the conversation she’d had with you… she’d laughed while you filled her in on some of your coworker’s antics and told you what time she’d be home before calling you her sweet girl and telling you how much she loved you. She’d thought she was alone in the locker room, otherwise she wouldn’t have let that slip. 

“Oh… uh, just haven’t felt ready to, I guess.” she answered and Bob nodded, giving her the space to continue when she gathered her thoughts. “I’ve gotten mixed reactions from other squads in the past and… I don’t know, we’ve just got a good thing going here and I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Why do you think you would ruin it?” he asked, genuinely interested in the answer and she sighed.

“It’s not easy… being a woman in the Navy, let alone being a gay woman in the Navy. We’ve never talked about that kind of stuff before, I don’t really know what everyone’s views on that are. My parents struggled with it when I came out to them and it’s been an issue in the past at my other stations and I guess I just didn’t want to deal with the fallout again,” she shrugged. 

“If it helps, I really don’t think anyone here would have a problem with it,” he said, and she lifted her attention from her glass to look at him questioningly. “I know we’ve never talked about it but… I can’t see anyone on the squad treating you differently because of it. I think they might be a little shocked, but that’s mainly because of how you banter with Hangman, everyone kind of thinks you two might be a thing on the down low-”

“Wait, what?” She cut him off and his eyes widened.

“You guys just have this like… thing, you’re very competitive and playfully mean to each other, I guess some of the squad just assumed it was because you were a thing,” he explained and she chuckled as she shook her head. “But once they get over the shock of being wrong, I think they’d be happy for you.”

“I just don’t know what I’d do if it doesn’t go that way. I’ve tried to get to a place where I don’t care if people aren’t accepting but… I’m just not there yet,” she sighed.

“I understand… I mean, as well as I can understand. It can’t be easy but you shouldn’t have to hide who you are, and I can at least speak for myself when I say I’m really happy for you… but I really think they’d like to meet her, they’re probably going to figure it out anyways because they all want to know what has you slipping out early every night. Whatever you decide, I’m in your corner… if you don’t want to, your secret’s safe with me,” he said, giving her a soft smile and a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder before he rejoined the group to leave her alone with her thoughts. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to introduce you to them, she really did… she’d told you everything she knew about each of them and you’d expressed your interest in tagging along one night but were understanding when she said she wasn’t ready for that yet.

If she had it her way she’d be screaming from the rooftops how in love with you she was… she’d invite the squad over so they could try your amazing cooking, and you’d be by her side every Friday night but there was truly no way to know how everyone else would feel until she came clean, and that idea absolutely terrified her.

“Hey honey, I’m home!” Phoenix called out as you heard her keys rattle against the dish on the entryway table and you padded down the hallway to greet her with a warm smile.

“Hey Nat, how was work today?” you asked, giving her a sweet peck on her lips before watching her pull her boots off and you immediately noticed the slump in her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

She nodded and gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the couch, “Bob found out about us.”

“Yeah? What’d he say?” you asked as the two of you sat beside each other and you instantly pulled her legs over your lap. 

“He was really supportive, he said I should tell everyone else,” she sighed.

“How do you feel about that? Are you ready?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know… once I open that can of worms it’s not like I can stuff it back in,” she said and you nodded, your thumb rubbing reassuring circles against her uniform-clad thigh. “It’s not that I don’t want to… I don’t want you to think for a minute it’s because I want to hide you, I just don’t want it to blow up in my face.”

“I never thought that sweetheart,” you said with a reassuring smile. “I know it’s hard, and I know you’ve been burned before in previous squads but you speak so highly of them… from what I’ve heard they all sound like really great people and I think it would be good to finally clue them in,” you said. “You know I’m okay either way, it’s at your pace, Nat… but this has been stressing you out ever since you got permanently stationed here, and they are probably going to find out sooner or later… I think you might feel better if you get to control the conversation instead of more people piecing it together like Bob did.” She knew you were right… you always were, it really was only a matter of time. Sure, Bob was the most observant of everyone else so she couldn’t be surprised he was the first one to piece it together but it’s not like her squad was stupid. “It’s up to you, but I think you should get it over with. Just rip off the bandaid and whatever happens we’ll deal with it together just like we always do.”

She gave you a soft smile, the first real one of the evening as she looked at you with nothing but love in her eyes, “what do you think about meeting me at The Hard Deck after work next week?”

“I think that’s a really great idea,” you answered, leaning in to press your lips to hers. 

“I really love you, you know that?” she asked and you nodded with a chuckle.

“I know, I love you too.” 

The entire week leading up to their usual hangout at the bar had Phoenix on edge… logically she knew you and Bob were right, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled deep in her bones as the day creeped closer and closer. She didn’t want to call it off (though she’d thought about it a dozen times), she had to stick with it and follow through otherwise she never would and as she stood around the pool table with the rest of the boys she honestly felt like she might throw up.

“You good, Nix?” Hangman asked, looking her over curiously, “worried I’m going to kick your ass again?” He gestured over to the pool table and she just rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean by again, you’ve never beaten me,” she replied and he scoffed. “Revisionist history, I see how it is,” he teased and when the bar door swung open she whipped her head around to see you walking in looking as beautiful as ever… you were wearing her favorite dress of yours, a simple little wrap dress that really brought out your eyes and she couldn’t help the smile that overtook her face but no one around her could notice as they all stared at you too. 

“Damn, she is gorgeous,” Rooster said, eyes tracking you as you scanned the bar and Hangman just shoved his shoulder.

“In your dreams, Chicken, watch how the professionals do it,” he said, straightening his posture as he started to move towards you but he stopped in his tracks when recognition flashed over your face and watched as you walked directly towards their group. You gave her a bright smile, not standing too close and waiting to see how she wanted to proceed… you didn’t want to toss her into the deep end by planting a kiss on those lips you loved so much (despite how you really wanted to) and you watched as she laughed nervously, grabbing your hand as she introduced you.

“This is my girlfriend,” she said, squeezing your hand and waiting for everyone’s reaction and you watched the variety of emotions that passed over their faces before they all seemed to put the pieces together in their heads and soon they were giving you big smiles and extending their hands as they told you their callsigns. 

“Well, I see why she’s been hiding you away… you are beautiful,” Bob said with a genuine smile and you chuckled as you shook his hand. 

“How long have you two been together?” Rooster asked and Phoenix shifted her weight nervously.

“A few years,” she answered and you bit back a smile at their shocked expressions.

“Years? Nix, why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Hangman asked, and you thought the concern in his voice was out of character for him… well, as much as you knew about his character from what she had told you. 

“I uh.. Well, I didn’t know how you guys would react,” she said honestly with a shrug and you saw the understanding pass over their features.

“Phoenix…” Rooster said, giving her a sad look before wrapping an arm around her. “I’m sorry if anyone ever gave you the impression you couldn’t tell us,” he said and she shook her head.

“No one did… it’s just, not necessarily a well-recepted thing in the Navy even though times are changing.” she replied.

“Well I speak for everyone when I say the squad just gained its newest member… and if anyone has a problem with that I will not-so-kindly throw you overboard,” Hangman said as he slung an arm over your shoulders. “You and I have much to catch up on, I want all the details,” he said and you chuckled as you walked down to the bar with him. You knew Phoenix would have nothing to worry about, you could tell from your after-work conversations she immensely respected all of them (even Hangman) and after meeting them you honestly felt like she might have been selling them short all this time. The way they welcomed you with open arms had your chest feeling warm and you could just tell it was all genuine as Hangman started talking your ear off and ordering you a beer.

You’d been passed around from person to person all night, barely getting a moment alone with your girlfriend but that was fine with you… you knew the novelty of a new person hanging around would wear off and they were all just excited to get to know you. 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” you asked when Fanboy finally relinquished you from the very intense discussion you’d both had about Star Wars. You wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into you, smiling softly as she melted against you.

“Good. So good, you were right… I should have gotten this over with sooner. I love seeing you with them,” she said and you pressed a kiss to her lips. 

“And I love getting to know them. It doesn’t matter if I was right, you needed to do this when you were ready to,” you said and she just beamed at you before pulling you back in and kissing you passionately… earning some whistles and cheers from her friends and making your cheeks burn.

“I love you so damn much, you know that?” she asked and you nodded as you giggled.

“Yeah, I know. I love you too,” you said, pecking her lips once more before dragging her over to the dartboard where Hangman had all but promised to take it easy on you (you didn’t believe him one bit). Phoenix had found her family, and you were so grateful to now be a part of that.

taglist: @callsignspirit @thegodessc @failuretothrivesstuff @olliepig @cruelmissdior @underaveragefangirl @grxcieluvr (if your username is struck through it means I couldn't tag you - sorry!)

[thatbadadvice]

Help! The Woman I Have Been Stalking for Years Is Disinclined to Engage With Me

Carolyn Hax, WaPo, 1 June 2023 (originally 11 March 2009):

Dear Carolyn: About five years ago, I began to realize that a woman I dated 25 years earlier was someone I had stronger feelings for than I was mature enough to appreciate at the time. I had questions for her about why we hadn’t blossomed into the kind of relationship I now think we both believe we were destined for. In the past five years, I’ve continued to have those questions, then dreams, etc., which led me to do a paid search for her address. I wrote her twice and left a voice mail. My messages have been about old friends I bumped into who reminded me of her, what I’ve been doing and how I’d like to hear from her. That is, nothing too serious or about what’s been on my mind. I haven’t received an answer. I’ve thought through the reasons she hasn’t corresponded, and why I needed to talk with her, and am still at a loss. Would asking her my questions directly in a letter be a way to coax her to reconnect? Telling her that, apart from this midlife crisis of mine, I’m happily married and successful, and that all I want are answers? -- A 30-year-old question

Dear 30-Year-Old Question,

One might expect a happily married person to do all kinds of things, but topmost among them is paying to find the contact information of an ex-girlfriend and sending said ex-girlfriend multiple unanswered messages, repeatedly and through a variety of means, over the course of many years in the hopes of deceiving her into heady conversations about the details of your long-ended relationship. Yes indeed, when the Bad Advisor thinks of "normal stuff a person who's very happy in their marriage would do," her mind immediately goes to "pretending to ask innocuous questions about old friends in the hope that a woman I dated 30 years ago believes I am solely and only asking her innocent questions about old friends, when in fact I am explicitly and admittedly not."

Women are famously unable to clock the intentions of men, who are very clever, extremely stealthy, and never creepy or dangerous to the extent that they would unsettle people from whom they have demanded interaction and who have time and time again ignored them. Probably this woman received your incredibly blasé letters and voicemail and thought: "Gosh, it seems like this dude who deuced out on me three decades ago is trying to rope me into responding to him multiple times despite my obvious disinclination to engage only and exclusively on the subject of our old friends, what a boring conversation, I shan't respond unless he sends me a lengthy bit of written correspondence detailing his many thoughts and feelings about how our romance ended, I simply can't imagine having a conversation with him unless I know for absolute certain he wants to rehash what happened between us, which is the only possible way I could fathom entertaining such a reconnection, one which I would never have reason to pursue otherwise, as I am so desperately in love with him and have been lo these 30 years but could not in good conscience find a way to broach the subject unless he sends me just one more letter finally making his bonerful intentions plain, that sly dog."

Might you have neglected to include a return address on the previous correspondence about which you were extremely desperate, but in a very casual way, to receive a response? Does your ex-girlfriend own the only cellular telephone on earth that does not log the return-call number of people who leave voicemails? Mayhap she simply does not know how to contact you after multiple attempts over half a decade! These are highly probable reasons she has not sought you out! Vastly more likely than the fact that she sees entirely the fuck through your pretenses and wants nothing to do with you whatsoever.

If you wish to receive a concrete answer about the status of your relationships, your best hope is to CC your spouse on any future correspondence. I think you can expect a prompt response.

[mixelation]

in toris defense its not like her ABNU friends (kakashi, itachi, shisui (lmao)) are particularly more dangerous than her non abnu friends (deidara, obito, kushina). If anything, being on ABNU is a sign that you are less likely to go nuclear and destroy a village. Though actually, /are/ Deidara/Obito offered ABNU positions? It would be funny if everyone but Tori was offered one, even if she didn't want it anyway, but also I'm not sure I'd want either of them on my secret black ops squad.

tori: i think the average ninja could [insane feat]. maybe even [more insane feat]? i'm a little below average physically so i could only [most insane feat yet] if i [wild plan]. i mean like i can TECHNICALLY do hiraishin but i'm not great at it. pretty normal stuff

kakashi: fascinating. tell me more

as for being offered ANBU positions.... i think it depends on how you view ANBU functioning vs general pool? canon is kind of inconsistent, but we're told minato put kakashi in ANBU so he could directly supervise him. so i can see minato considering the idea of putting obito in there so he can keep a closer eye on him, but i think he would eventually conclude that not only would obito be EXTREMELY resistant to the stricter code of conduct, but also maybe we don't want to send obito on all murder missions all the time? and i think deidara wouldn't be recruited for similar reasons-- he is wildly allergic to being stealthy/secretive or a stricter code of conduct. some people treat ANBU like some elite thing only the best of the best get into, but Itachi was in there as a chunin so I don't think it's like.... that big of an indicator of skill? i like them having some sense of mysteriousness and missions with heightened danger, and i don't think they let you in if you're below average, but i also don't think it's be considered a snub or a lack of skill to never be offered. lots of really excellent ninja never go in, and some middle-of-the-road ninja get offers because their demeanor & skillset are a good fit

also minato can't recruit deidara and NOT tori because then she'd get fixated on joining and he's. he's no longer sure he could stop her??? and tbh tori has a slightly better personality for ANBU than deidara. i say 'slightly' because sometimes tori SEEMS like she's very obediently deferring to authority and then the authority just dies. but she IS better at stealth

(recruiting tori but not deidara ALSO means upsetting deidara, but he'll just take out some buildings and then kushina will give a speech about how it's important for young people to express their feelings. nbd)