#and then realizing he's just going to touch the box. so he has to do something too

[swrkn]

Hihi! I see you have blue lock in your fandoms you write for, do you have any ness headcannons? thank you <3

𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Alexis ness x g/n reader

Genre ; sfw , fluff

Author note ; hii , that’s my first request for blue lock so i would like to thank you for that ! English is not my first language so im sorry if there are mistakes, my request are open !!

⇨ Thoughtful Supporter

Ness is the ultimate doting partner, almost to a fault. He's incredibly attentive, always noticing the little things that make you happy, like your favorite snacks or how you prefer your tea. He's fiercely loyal and seeks validation in the relationship, similar to how he idolizes Kaiser on the field. He wants to feel like he's your number one supporter.

One evening, you casually mention craving something sweet while you're both texting. You don't think much of it and move on with your night. The next day, there's a knock at your door, and when you open it, Ness stands there with a box of pastries from your favorite bakery. "You mentioned these yesterday," he says with a shy smile, his cheeks slightly flushed. "I couldn't let you go another day without them." You're touched by his thoughtfulness, and as you both sit down to enjoy the treats, you realize how much he pays attention to even your smallest remarks.

⇨ Your Biggest Cheerleader

He's deeply invested in your personal goals and will do everything he can to support you, much like how he supports Kaiser on the field. He'll be your biggest cheerleader, no matter what. In return, he appreciates when you show interest in his soccer career, even if it's just attending his games or asking about his training.

You're working late on a project, and Ness texts you: Don't forget to take a break, okay? You're doing amazing. A few minutes later, he shows up with a coffee in hand, ready to cheer you on.

After one of his big games, you greet him with a proud smile. "You were incredible out there," you say. His eyes light up, and he pulls you into a tight hug. "Hearing that from you makes it even better," he murmurs.

⇨ The Peace Maker

Ness hates conflict and will do his best to avoid arguments. If a disagreement arises, he'll try to resolve it calmly, often prioritizing your feelings over his own. He's quick to apologize, even if he's not in the wrong, but he appreciates it when you acknowledge his feelings too.

A minor disagreement arises when your schedules don't align, and you end up snapping at Ness out of frustration. He takes a deep breath, choosing not to escalate the situation. "I'm sorry if I upset you," he says calmly, his eyes soft with concern. "I just want us to work through this together." His willingness to approach the issue with understanding rather than anger helps you cool down, and together, you find a solution. By the end of the conversation, the tension has melted away, replaced by mutual understanding and affection.

⇨ Romantic Gestures

He's a romantic at heart. Expect surprise dates, handwritten letters, and spontaneous compliments. Ness loves making you feel cherished. His favorite thing is to cook for you, insisting that he knows all your favorite dishes. Even if it doesn't turn out perfect, he'll put his heart into every meal.

One weekend, you find a small envelope on your pillow. Inside is a handwritten note from Ness, detailing how much he appreciates you. "I just wanted to remind you how amazing you are," it reads. "Thank you for being in my life."

Ness surprises you by setting up a cozy picnic at the park, complete with a blanket, snacks, and your favorite playlist. "I thought we could use some fresh air and time together," he says, beaming.

⇨ Jealousy and Insecurity

Ness is prone to jealousy but tries to hide it. If he sees you getting close to someone else, he'll quietly fume but won't confront you directly. Instead, he'll subtly seek more of your attention to reassure himself. In moments of insecurity, he'll need you to affirm that you love him for who he is and not just for how much he supports you.

After one of Ness's matches, you find yourself talking with one of his teammates, complimenting his skills. From a distance, Ness watches, his smile faltering slightly as he sees how much you're enjoying the conversation. Later, when it's just the two of you, he hesitates before asking, "You seemed really close with him... Do you think they're funnier than me?" His voice is soft, almost uncertain. You immediately cup his face, looking into his eyes. "Ness, you're the one I love. No one else comes close," you assure him, planting a gentle kiss on his lips. His expression softens, and he pulls you into a tight hug, his insecurities melting away in your embrace.

⇨ The playful Competitor

He's surprisingly competitive when playing games with you, especially if it's something like board games or trivia. He loves teasing you when he wins but takes it gracefully if you beat him.

During a trivia night, Ness surprises you with how competitive he can get. "No way you knew that answer!" you laugh after he correctly names a random historical fact. He smirks and says, "What can I say? I'm full of surprises." When you finally beat him in the final round, he dramatically clutches his chest. "You've defeated me, but I'm proud of you," he says, making you both burst out laughing.

✵

[naomijoestar]

hello sweets! I have been reading your works for few weeks now and i must say they are amazing!! (you are so talented🥰) I know your request box is now closed and im sorry for putting more things on your plate.. 😨💕 BUT i hope if you could write some amazing headcanons about:

Bucci gang having a significant other who is/ has been clinging on to them because they have been missing their bucci member. 😭❤️

Maybe he’s/or she’s(trish👀) been busy because of work !! or they have just been too tired to spend some time with their significant other and just instantly going to bed after work. And after few days/or weeks.. later they finally start to show some signs of being neglected.. (for example: not letting them leave the bed for work). 😧💕

ANYWAYS SO SORRY FOR MAKING THIS SO LONG !! feel free to ignore my rambling 😅

Thank you for your time and effort love !! 🙏❤️

have a nice day or night!!

Masterlist here <3

Hello ml! This is such a cute request, now I wanted to admit that while reading your request I didn’t notice that you requested headcanons and wrote this as a scenario instead🥲 I really hope you don’t mind and if you do I will gladly re-write this for you!

Sorry for the late reply and I hope you enjoy this 💞

(Trish Una included!)

Bucci gang with their s/o clinging onto them because they miss them

Pannacotta Fugo

Fugo had been working late nights, diving headfirst into planning and strategy. It wasn’t intentional, but his sharp focus on his tasks left you feeling invisible. At first, you thought you could handle it, but after weeks of stolen moments and fleeting kisses, the weight of his absence became too much.

This morning, as he swung his legs over the bed to get ready, you reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Fugo, stay.”

He turned, startled by the tremor in your voice. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his brows knitting together in concern.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. “I just miss you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re always gone. Even when you’re here, you’re… not really here.”

Fugo froze, guilt washing over him in an instant. He’d been so absorbed in his responsibilities that he hadn’t realized how much he was neglecting you. He sat back down, pulling your hands into his. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice unusually tender. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like this.”

You looked up at him, tears brimming in your eyes. “I just… I need you right now.”

Without hesitation, Fugo climbed back into bed, wrapping his arms tightly around you. “I’ll stay,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ve been a fool, but I’ll make it up to you. Today, I’m yours. Completely.”

You let out a soft, relieved sigh, burying your face in his chest. His heartbeat, steady and strong, was a comfort you’d been missing. For the rest of the day, Fugo didn’t touch a single work-related item, devoting every moment to showing you how deeply he cared.

Bruno Bucciarati

Bruno had always been devoted to his work, but lately, it felt like he was consumed by it. Late nights, endless meetings, and responsibilities left him coming home too exhausted to even share a proper conversation with you. He’d kiss your forehead, mumble an apology, and fall asleep almost instantly.

At first, you told yourself it was temporary, that things would calm down eventually. But as the days stretched into weeks, the loneliness began to weigh on you. This morning, when Bruno stirred to get out of bed, you instinctively reached for him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Stay,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm.

Bruno paused, his movements freezing. “Amore, I have—”

“No,” you interrupted, your face pressed against his back. “You don’t. Not today.”

The quiet in your voice struck a chord in him. He turned to look at you, his dark eyes filled with guilt as he took in the sight of your teary gaze and trembling lip. “You’ve been so busy,” you whispered, your hands clutching his shirt. “I know it’s important, but… I miss you, Bruno. I miss us.”

He exhaled deeply, guilt evident in every line of his face. Without a word, he slid back into bed, pulling you into his arms. “I’m so sorry, tesoro,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t realize how much I was neglecting you. You’re the most important thing in my life, and I’ve been taking you for granted.”

You nuzzled into his chest, your fingers clutching his shirt like he might disappear again. “Don’t leave today,” you pleaded softly. “Just… stay with me.”

Bruno kissed the crown of your head, his lips lingering there as if to seal a promise. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, cradling you close. “Today, I’m yours, completely. I’ll make this right—I swear.”

For the rest of the day, he didn’t even glance at his phone. He was fully present, holding you, listening to you, and reminding you with every kiss and tender word just how much you meant to him.

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno had always carried the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, but lately, it felt like he was drowning in it. Long hours at meetings, late nights poring over plans—it had all left him coming home too exhausted to notice the growing sadness in your eyes. You’d tried to be patient, understanding the importance of his work, but the ache of missing him only grew stronger.

This morning, as he sat on the edge of the bed, buttoning his shirt, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Reaching out, you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head on his back. “Giorno… don’t go today,” you said softly, your voice trembling.

He stilled, his hands falling to his lap. “Amore?” he asked, his tone gentle but confused. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, your grip tightening. “I miss you,” you admitted, your voice cracking as tears began to well up. “You’re always working, and I understand, but… I feel like I haven’t had you to myself in weeks.”

Giorno turned to face you, his golden hair catching the soft morning light. His emerald eyes widened as they met yours, glistening with unshed tears. He reached out, cupping your face in his hands. “Oh, my love,” he whispered, his voice full of regret. “I didn’t realize how much I’ve been neglecting you.”

You leaned into his touch, your tears slipping free. “I just… I need you. Even if it’s just for today.”

Giorno’s heart clenched, guilt washing over him. He kissed your forehead tenderly before pulling you into his lap. “You shouldn’t have to ask for my attention,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I’ve been a fool, but I’ll make it right. I promise.”

He lay back down, holding you close as if letting you go would break him. “I’m yours today,” he murmured, his fingers gently brushing through your hair. “No meetings, no calls. Just us.”

For the rest of the day, Giorno stayed true to his word. He didn’t glance at a single document or answer a single call. Instead, he spent every moment with you—holding you, laughing with you, and reminding you just how deeply he loved you.

Leone Abbacchio

Leone had never been one to sugarcoat things. When work needed to be done, he threw himself into it with everything he had. But lately, it felt like his everything was all going to work, leaving you with scraps of his time and energy. At first, you’d tried to be understanding—it was just his way. But as the days turned into weeks of him coming home too tired to do anything but collapse into bed, the loneliness became harder to ignore.

This morning, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed to get ready, you grabbed his hand. “Don’t go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Leone stopped, his brow furrowing as he glanced back at you. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gruff but laced with concern.

You didn’t let go, your grip tightening. “I miss you,” you admitted, looking down at the sheets. “You’ve been so busy, and I feel like… like I don’t have you anymore.”

He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve been a crap partner, haven’t I?” he muttered, more to himself than to you. He turned fully, taking in the tears brimming in your eyes. It hit him harder than he expected.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel this way,” he said, his voice softer now. “I just… I thought you understood.”

“I do,” you said quickly, your voice trembling. “But understanding doesn’t make it hurt less. I need you, Leone.”

Something in his chest cracked at the way you said his name. Without another word, he climbed back into bed, pulling you against him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his lips pressing gently to your forehead. “I’ve been too wrapped up in work, but I’ll make it right. I’ll stay.”

You blinked up at him, surprised. “You mean it?”

Leone smirked faintly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’m not going anywhere today,” he promised. “You’ve been patient with me for too long. It’s my turn to give you what you need.”

For the rest of the day, he stayed true to his word. He held you close, kissed you like he hadn’t in weeks, and spent the day reminding you why he was worth missing in the first place.

Narancia Ghirga

Narancia was always full of energy, constantly running off on missions or getting caught up in one task or another. At first, you found his busy nature endearing, but as the days went by and he barely had time to sit down and talk to you, you started to feel the sting of his absence.

One morning, as he tried to slip out of bed to get ready for another mission, you reached out and grabbed his arm. “Narancia… don’t go,” you said softly, your voice cracking just enough to make him pause.

He turned to look at you, his eyes wide with surprise. “What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, kneeling back on the bed.

You sat up, clutching the sheets tightly. “I miss you,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to your lap. “You’re always running off somewhere, and I feel like I barely see you anymore.”

Narancia blinked, your words hitting him like a punch to the gut. “Oh no! no no,” he said quickly, scooting closer to you. “I didn’t realize you were feeling like this.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “I know your work is important, but… I just need you right now.”

Without hesitation, Narancia threw himself back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you down with him. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice firm. “Today, I’m all yours. Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his determination. “Really?”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your nose. “Really. I’ve been so stupid, haven’t I? I should’ve noticed you were feeling this way. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

For the rest of the day, Narancia didn’t leave your side. Whether it was lying in bed talking, cooking together in the kitchen, or dancing to music in the living room, he made sure you felt loved and cherished with every smile, laugh, and touch. By the end of the day, the ache of missing him was replaced by the warmth of knowing just how much he cared.

Guido Mista

Mista was always easygoing, but lately, his carefree nature had been replaced by exhaustion. Missions, meetings, and late nights had drained him so much that he barely had time for you. He’d stumble into bed, mutter a quick “Good night,” and be out like a light before you could even tell him how much you missed him.

This morning, as he got up to get ready, you decided enough was enough. You grabbed his hand and tugged him back onto the bed. “Guido, no,” you said firmly, wrapping your arms around his waist to keep him in place.

He blinked, caught off guard. “What’s this about, babe?” he asked with a half-laugh, though his voice softened when he saw the pout on your lips.

“You’re always leaving,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I know you’re busy, but I barely see you anymore. I miss you, Mista. A lot.”

His playful grin faltered, replaced by a look of guilt. “Ah, damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t realize I was making you feel this way.”

You looked up at him, your eyes glossy. “I just… I need you here today. Please.”

Mista’s heart sank. Without another word, he kicked off his shoes and climbed back into bed, pulling you into his arms. “I’m sorry, babe,” he said, resting his chin on top of your head. “You’re right. I’ve been so caught up in everything else that I’ve been ignoring the most important person in my life.”

You buried your face in his chest, your fingers clutching at his shirt. “Just stay with me,” you whispered.

He tilted your chin up, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “Today’s all about you. I don’t care if the boss himself calls me—I’m staying right here.”

For the rest of the day, Mista made sure to pamper you with all the love and attention you’d been missing. Whether it was cuddling under a blanket, sharing your favorite snacks, or laughing together over silly stories, he reminded you exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place.

Trish Una

Trish had always been meticulous with her time—balancing her work, appearances, and responsibilities left little room for flexibility. Lately, though, it seemed like every spare second of hers was being devoured by her career. You understood how much she had on her plate, but the ache of her absence had begun to weigh heavily on you.

This morning, as she reached for her planner to prepare for another busy day, you grabbed her wrist gently. “Trish,” you murmured, your voice tinged with vulnerability. “Can you stay today?”

She turned to you, her perfectly lined eyes widening in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I miss you,” you admitted, lowering your gaze. “You’ve been so busy, and I know it’s important, but I feel like I haven’t had you to myself in ages.”

Her expression softened immediately, her glossy lips parting as guilt flickered across her face. “I… didn’t realize it had been that bad,” she said, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You bit your lip, shrugging slightly. “I didn’t want to make you feel bad. But… I just need you today. Just this once.”

Trish hesitated for only a moment before snapping her planner shut and tossing it onto the bedside table. “You’re right,” she said firmly. “I’ve been too wrapped up in everything else. That stops now.”

“Really?” you asked, looking up at her with wide eyes.

She cupped your face in her hands, her touch soft but certain. “Really,” she said, her voice filled with conviction. “Today is yours. Whatever you want—name it, and it’s yours. I’ll cancel everything.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as she leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. The rest of the day was pure bliss: long cuddles, indulgent meals, and quiet moments where she reminded you, again and again, that no amount of work would ever mean more to her than you did.

I hope you don’t mind me forgetting to make these headcanons, that was totally my fault and if you do mind you can always text me and tell me if you’d like me to make a hc version!

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

[hourcat]

are u still thinking about pierre and charles' aborted attempt to touch each other again after they already shook hands once or are u normal

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - TWO

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of possible pregnancy, of abortion, of pregnancy risks & death. self-loathing. chapter one ┆ chapter three ┆ chapter four

You lied.

You didn’t take the tests the next day.

Or the next. You couldn’t. Every time you picked up one of the stupid boxes, your heart would drop to the pits of hell and your hands would start sweating. You’d shove it back in the drawer like it could disappear if you just ignored it hard enough.

Once you knew, you knew. 

There was no more pretending as if nothing happened.

No more pretending like you didn't care that Rafe moved on like he didn’t just dump you, with no real closure and ran to the next girl he found. 

Fuck, why did he have to look so happy that night? He got to be carefree, living his perfect little life with her, and you were there, sitting on the bathroom floor, too scared to even pee on a stick.

What if it was positive? Then what? The thought of seeing his name pop up on your phone after you blocked him, or worse, hearing her voice if she picked up...you’d rather die. He didn't deserve to know.

He didn't deserve anything from you anymore.

You started googling abortion clinics before you even touched the tests. You could afford it. That wasn’t even the issue.

You had more money than you knew what to do with. Your inheritance was just sitting there. You could book a flight tomorrow, pay for whatever procedure, whatever it took—fly out of state, out of the country, if you had to. 

But that wasn’t the point. It has never been about the money. It was the overwhelming shame. The fear. The realization that Rafe might have left you, but he was still there, stuck in your head, in your body, in your fucking life. Even when he wasn’t.  

He didn’t have to worry about any of this. He was most likely out on the boat, not even thinking about you. Not thinking about what he did to you. 

And you— you were left with this. Sitting on a bathroom floor for hours a day, trying to figure out how you were supposed to make a decision that changed everything.

You started looking up clinics again, scrolling through the options, but your mind was barely even there. It was legal in North Carolina for now, but you read something about the 12-week ban they passed in June, and suddenly you were spiraling one more time, wondering how much time you even had. 

Could you wait? Could you put it off like you’d been putting off the tests, like if you waited long enough, maybe the problem would just... disappear? Shit, wouldn’t that be easier?

You heard that voice in your head, the one that sounded like your mom, at least what you remembered from watching old videos.

It was depressing how life didn’t let you hold tightly to your memories sometimes. She always reminded you of the kind of person you were supposed to be. The type of girl who had her shit together. The type of girl who didn’t get herself into situations like this, in the first place.

But instead, you were the girl who lost everything—the life you were supposed to have—and somehow, you’d still found a way to screw up what was left.

You kept scrolling like you couldn’t stop.

One page led to another, and soon you weren’t just looking up clinics—you were looking up everything. 

What happened during the procedure, how long it took, the side effects, the complications. You read horror stories about infections, about women who thought it was over and then bled for weeks, about people who changed their minds too late.

You even looked up what could happen if you didn’t get an abortion—what pregnancy could do to your body. And that was a whole other rabbit hole you didn’t need to go down. Your body changing, your hormones going insane. You thought about your boobs getting sore, your stomach stretching, the possibility of throwing up every morning, and it felt like your body was already betraying you. And then you read the serious stuff—gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, all these words you didn’t even know existed before that night. There was a minefield of things that could go wrong, things that would go wrong.

Complications. Risks. Dangers.

You read about women who almost died in labor. About miscarriages and stillbirths and the trauma of carrying a baby for months, only to lose it. You never even thought about that, how pregnancy wasn’t just this smooth, magical process people make it out to be. It was brutal. But you’d been the little sister, you never saw your mother go through it, or anyone for that matter.

Your younger cousin, Topper the bitching backstabber, had been born and raised in Los Angeles before he moved to Figure 8 when he was five. 

You were terrified—not just of being pregnant, but of what it meant to stay pregnant. Would your body even handle it? You’d always lived off coffee and takeout half the time. An unreasonable amount of parties. Too many drinks some nights.

You weren’t exactly the picture of health. What if you weren’t strong enough? What if something went wrong, and you ended up in a hospital bed, alone, because Rafe sure as fuck wouldn’t be there. It was just you.

For a second there, you thought you might pass out.

You’d thrown your phone across the room, it hit the wall with a thud, but it didn’t help. The anxiety was still there, vibrating under your skin, making you want to scream. You glanced at the bathroom drawer again, where the pregnancy tests were hidden like some cursed thing.

Maybe you should’ve just taken one.

Rip off the bandaid.

The stupid phone rang, like was having fun pissing you off, vibrating on the floor where you’d thrown it. You stared at it for a second, debating if you should even pick it up. You didn’t feel like dealing with anyone, especially not whoever was about to ask something from you.

But it kept ringing, and of course, it was a number you recognized—Lily, one of the coordinators from your dad’s foundation. Shit. You forgot about the gala. Again. The one that was happening in two freaking days, the one you haven’t even thought about preparing for.

You swiped to answer, “Yeah?”

“Hey, I didn’t want to bother you, but we need to go over the final details for the gala,” She greeted you, sounding way too perky for how you were feeling. “I really need your input on the seating arrangements, and the auction items, and—”

It hit you just how ironic this was. You were sitting here, freaking out about being possibly pregnant, scrolling through nightmare stories about abortion and pregnancy complications, while Lily was talking about a fundraiser for children’s health. Kids. It felt like some twisted repulsive joke the universe was playing on you.

You blinked back into the conversation, realizing she still talking, and you hadn’t said a word. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I’ve been busy. Can you just handle it?” you muttered, feeling guilty but not enough to actually deal with any of it.

“I’ve already taken care of most things,” she said carefully, “but we really need your approval on the final guest list and the speech. You’re the face of the foundation, after all.”

The face of the foundation. The legacy your dad left you. It was supposed to be this huge responsibility. And it was. You’d always taken it seriously. The one thing in your life you never ruined. But this year, you hadn’t written the speech yet. Jesus, you forgot it was even happening. And the guest list? No clue.

You rubbed your forehead, “I’ll look at it later. Just send it over.”

Lily hesitated again, probably sensing that something was off, you'd always been a control freak. “Okay, I’ll email it to you. Just let me know by tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You hung up before she could add anything else, staring at the ceiling. One more thing. One more responsibility piled on top of everything else. You were drowning in all these expectations—being the good daughter to dead parents, the responsible one, the perfect kook girl who was supposed to have everything. You were supposed to be the girl who had the trust fund, the perfect life, the foundation that helped kids in need.

You earned to be her.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with an email notification. You rolled your eyes, already knowing it was from Lily. She’d sent over the guest list, and you groaned, thinking you’d skim it, give it a half-assed glance, and send it back. But as you scrolled down the names, you stopped.

Rafe Cameron.

Of course, he was going to be there. Why wouldn’t he? His family had been involved in your dad’s foundation for years. It was like you couldn’t escape him.

The fucking nerve. To your gala. Your blood boiled instantly, your fingers gripping the phone so tight you almost cracked the screen.

Fuck him. 

If he thought he could just show up and rub his new life in your face, he had another thing coming. Without thinking twice, you deleted his name, erasing him like he didn’t even exist. And then, without checking another name, you sent the list back to Lily.

You didn’t give a shit if it was petty. You didn’t care if it wasn’t professional.

If Rafe wanted to play games, you’d ruin his life if you had to. He thought he could fuck you over, leave you with all this—leave you with nothing? No. You weren’t going to let him have that power.

Not over this. Not over you.

You were shaking now, but it almost felt good. Even if it was just a stupid guest list. Let him find out when he got there and there was no table for him. No seat. No fucking room. 

You still sat there staring at the screen with that stupid blinking cursor. The email from Lily sat open in front of you, and somewhere buried in the list of attachments was the speech. Blank.

Your speech—the one you were supposed to read at the gala in two days. The one you hadn’t even started writing.

This was always the hardest part. Writing it. Saying it. You used to cry every time. Standing in front of all those people, talking about your dad, your family, how the foundation was this beautiful way of keeping their memory alive. It was never just a speech—it was like ripping your heart out of your chest and letting everyone see it, year after year. It never got easier.

But Rafe, used to be there with you.

Every year. He’d sit with you while you struggled through every word, telling you it was okay to take your time, reminding you that you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to. And when the gala came, he was always by your side, standing just off stage, waiting for you after the speech was done. You’d run into his arms, and he’d whisper that you 'did great baby', holding you until the room stopped spinning so much.

You could still hear his voice in your head sometimes, 'you’re stronger than you think'.

That’s what he always said, even when you didn’t believe it. He’d hold you, kiss your forehead, and make you feel like it was true, like you really could get through it. He was always so sure of you. But this year? He wasn’t going to be there. He’d stop believing the lies he fed you. You were angry. You were seething. You were utterly alone.

You’d been avoiding this moment—writing.

This time around, it wasn’t just about the speech. It was about the fact that when you walked out of that stage, you wouldn’t have him waiting for you.

You’d step down into nothingness, with no one to catch you.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, but they wouldn’t move. What were you even supposed to say this year? How were you supposed to stand up in front of all those people and talk about love and family and legacy when yours was shattered?

You hated looking at yourself in the mirror, feeling like you’d lost every single piece of who you used to be.

Fuck the speech. Fuck the gala. Fuck Rafe Cameron and his stupid lies, his stupid smile, his stupid promises that he never kept.  

If he thought you were weak, if he thought he could break you, if he thought you were the same girl who used to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you together—he was wrong.

You were going to do this without him.

You were going to stand up there and give that speech, no matter how much it hurt. And if it killed you, so be it. You’d still do it.

Because unlike him, you didn’t just walk away from the things that mattered. Even if it tore you apart. Even if it was killing you to keep pretending like you were fine. You weren’t fine. But you’d fake it. You’d fake it until the whole world believed it. 

You’d barely hit send on the email when your phone rang again, and this time it wasn’t Lily.

It was Topper. You hadn’t talked to him since that night—the night. The party where you’d found out, where you’d seen Rafe and Sofia together for the first time. Where you realized that everyone knew.

How he’d called Rafe over, like you needed him to fix it, like he was still yours to rely on.

“What?”

“Hey…” Topper’s voice was cautious, “I, uh, I wanted to call and apologize for the other night.”

You snorted, leaning your head back against the wall. “Yeah? For what part? For calling Rafe like his little bitch or for getting in front of my car when I was trying to leave?”

“I didn’t mean to fuck things up. I was just trying to stop you from doing something stupid.”

“Like what?” you snapped. “Leaving the party? Getting out of there before I had to watch him with her for one more second? Yeah, Top, real dumb of me.”

“You almost ran me over,” Topper shot back, his voice rising just a little, like he was offended you hadn’t mentioned that part. “Kinda felt like maybe you weren’t thinking straight.”

“You jumped in front of the car you fucking idiot. What the hell did you expect me to do? Slam on the brakes and listen to whatever bullshit you and Rafe had to say? Because trust me, ’m all out of patience for either of you.”

There was a sigh on the other end, the sound of him trying to not to lose his patentience, like he was the one in the right here. Typical Topper. Always wanting to smooth things over, play peacemaker between you and Rafe, like this was just another fight you’d get over.

He never really got it.

“Look,” Your cousin started, calmer this time, “I didn’t mean to call him. I just thought—”

“You always think calling him will fix things,” you cut in, “Like he’s the answer to every problem I have. He’s not. Not anymore.”

“I get that,” He added quickly, like he was afraid you’d hang up. “But I didn’t know what else to do! You were upset, and I thought maybe—”

“Maybe what? That he could swoop in and save the day?” You let out a bitter laugh. “He’s not your golden boy, Top. He doesn’t fix anything. He ruins things.”

Topper went quiet for a second, probably trying to figure out how to respond without setting you off on an angry rant again. “I get it,” he said finally, “You’re pissed at him. You have every right to be. But I didn’t call him to hurt you, okay? I was worried about you.”

You hated how genuine he sounded, hated that he meant well. He was a nuisance half of the time, sure, but he wasn’t malicious. He never was. He just had terrible judgment. 

“Next time, don’t,” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “I don’t need you playing little brother and calling him when things go wrong."

“I wasn’t trying to clean anything up,” Topper explained, a little defensive now. “I just didn’t want you driving like that. You were upset.”

You rolled your eyes. “Upset doesn’t mean I need you or Rafe deciding what’s best for me. I’m not a kid.”

“You’re not,” he agreed, “But you weren’t exactly in a great headspace, so yeah, I stopped you. I wasn’t gonna let you leave like that and end up in a ditch somewhere.”

It hurt like a bitch, because deep down, you knew Topper had a point.

You were having a meltdown, and he’d stepped in, like he always did when you went off the rails. That was the problem with him—he cared, even when you didn’t want him to. He was family, the only family you had left, and he was too loyal for his own good.

“You could’ve told me,” you confessed what had been upsetting you, your voice losing some of its initial attitude. “About them. Instead of letting me walk into that party blind.”

Topper sighed again, “I should’ve,” he admitted. “I didn’t want you to find out like that. But it wasn’t my place to say anything. And I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Your hand instinctively moved to cup your stomach. You didn’t even realize you were doing it at first, but the second your fingers touched your shirt, the earlier panic welled up inside you again. If he only knew how bad things were. How bad they could get. You yanked your hand away like you’d been burned, heart hammering against your ribs most painfully. There was no way you could even begin to explain what was going on inside your head—or your body.

Not to Topper. Not to anyone. If he knew, he’d freak and you didn’t need that right now.

You clenched your jaw, pushing yourself to focus on the conversation, on Topper still yammering on about apologies and guilt You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. 

“Are you even listening?”

“Unfortunately,” You sounded apathetic even to yourself, fingers tapping against the phone, agitated. “Look, Top, I don’t have time for this right now. I’m busy.”

He sighed. “I know you’re pissed, okay? I get it. But the gala’s in, like, two days. You... you still going, right?”

“Of course I’m going,” you scowled, barely able to hide the bitterness in your voice. “I have to. It’s not like I can just dip out and pretend it’s not happening.”

Unlike some people, you thought, but you bit your tongue.

“Good, because I’ll be there too. And I—”

“Oh, joy,” you interrupted, “Another chance for you to babysit me and make sure I don’t make a scene? Can’t wait.”

“Jesus, I’m just trying to help!” Topper groaned. “I didn’t want to make things worse the other night. I—”

“Yeah. Whatever, I’ll see you at the gala.”

You hung up. You didn’t have the patience to deal with him right now. 

The day of the gala came faster than you thought it would.

It was like you blinked, and suddenly, you were standing in the middle of the venue, walking through final checks with Lily, nodding along as she rattled off details you barely absorbed.

The room was all glitz and glamour, with chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, and everything draped in the foundation’s signature gold and white. 

Crisp tablecloths. Flowers in perfect, elegant arrangements. Waiters in black-tie uniforms were circulating, making sure everything looked flawless. Flawless.

That word made you want to gag.

You moved through the space like a ghost, smiling at the right moments, giving half-hearted approvals when needed.  You didn’t care. People were running around, asking for your opinion on this or that. You’d stayed at the venue longer than planned, making sure everything was in order, but your mind was stuck in that floating-place. You wanted to burn the whole thing down, if you were being honest.

You should’ve called your doctor. Days ago. Hell, maybe weeks ago.

Making smart choices wasn’t your thing lately, was it?

When you finally slipped into the room where they’d set up your glam team, you just wanted to sleep. The room itself was a suite off to the side of the venue, a private space meant to make you feel like royalty.

A massive mirror ran across one wall, surrounded by soft, glowing lights. A table was set up with everything—hair tools, makeup brushes, palettes, serums. Bottles of champagne sat chilled in the corner, the condensation dripping down the glass, untouched. It was the kind of place you were supposed to feel special in.

Normally you did. But this year you were numb.

The stylist worked quietly on your hair, soft curls falling into place as she tugged and pinned each section with meticulous care. The makeup artist was dabbing foundation onto your skin, blending and contouring until you didn’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. The dress hung behind you, a shimmering white gown, custom-designed by Versace for the occasion.

You looked like you were stepping into one of those perfect, glamorous lives. But on the inside, you felt like you were going to lose it at any second. You nodded along, giving tight-lipped smiles when they complimented you, and then they finally left.

The room was dead silent now, just you and your reflection. You stood in front of the mirror, staring at yourself, the perfect curls, the glowy skin, the gown waiting behind you. It all felt wrong. It felt fake. You didn’t bear a resemblance to yourself.

You looked like the version of you that the world expected—the untouchable girl. A doll.

Your rifled through your bag for your phone, but instead, your fingers brushed something else. Cold, hard. 

You hadn’t even realized it was in there.

One of the pregnancy tests. You must’ve thrown it in without thinking earlier that morning when you were rushing out the door. You hadn’t even noticed it until now.

What the fuck were you doing?

You had a gala to host in less than an hour. People were going to be looking at you, waiting for you to give the speech, expecting you to hold everything together like always. And there you were, standing in a private dressing room, about to do something so monumentally stupid. Maybe it was the pressure of tonight, or maybe it was the anger you’d been shoving down for weeks, but suddenly, you didn’t care.

You were going to do it.

Without even thinking, you stormed into the bathroom. You were so fucking tired of avoiding this. Tired of pretending like everything was fine, like you were fine.

What the hell was fine about any of this? You tore open the box, hands trembling as you pulled out the test. The room was so quiet, you could hear every little sound—your breath still uneven, the rustle of your dress against the tiles, the click of the test cap as you flicked it off.

You sat down, staring at the stick in your hand. This was insane. You were insane. Who the fuck took a pregnancy test ten minutes before they’re supposed to host a charity gala? 

You couldn’t get a proper breath out as you waited, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might rip your chest open. You leaned against the sink, gripping the edge. Your stomach churned, the nausea rising again, and you had to close your eyes to stop the floor from spinning.

What if it was positive? What if it wasn’t?

You stared at the test, willing the result to appear, but it didn’t. Not yet. The little window stayed blank, as if taunting you, making you feel like you were losing your mind. You knew you had to wait longer. You weren’t stupid. You’d read those instructions a million times by now, but you hated waiting.

Hated not knowing.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the stupid little piece of plastic. Just one line or two. That was all it came down to. One fucking line or two, and your entire life would either fall apart or what? Be fine?

You glanced at the mirror, catching another glimpse of yourself, and it almost startled you—your eyes were wild. Desperate. They were the eyes of someone who was just about ready to do anything to get this over with. 

You tried to picture telling him again, but the idea alone made you sick. You thought of Sofia, of her perfect smile next to his, and bile rose in your throat. Your hands never stopped shaking. You wanted to run. You wanted to throw that thing in the garbage can and never stare at it again.

Your thoughts spun in circles, going nowhere, just making everything worse. The clock on your phone ticked louder and louder, and you knew—somewhere out there, everyone was getting ready. Guests were arriving. The gala would start soon, and they’d all be waiting for you. Watching you. Expecting you to be the poised, perfect version of yourself you’d spent your whole life pretending to be.

And you were in here, trying not to lose your fucking mind.

You peeked back at it. Still nothing.

No line. No answer.

It felt like you were suspended in time. You closed your eyes, gripping the sink harder, praying for it to end—something to happen, anything.

Then finally, you felt it in your chest—a heavy, sinking feeling, like the moment before a fall.

You opened your eyes. 

There it was.

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[suguann]

He has a feeling that the new girl running the front desk at the gym is going to be a problem—a distraction disguised in a gym uniform polo and khaki pants.

It starts with you smiling too brightly as he walks in one morning, all teeth and that little twinkle in your eye that feels like trouble when you scan his membership card.

“Good morning, Mr. Riley.” 

“It’s just Simon,” he tells you as he takes his card off the counter. 

The following day, it’s the same, except Johnny is there to make it worse.

He nudges Simon with his elbow. “She’s kinda pretty, huh?”

“Say it any louder, and she’ll hear you, mate,” he grumbles.

Simon’s not blind; of course, he knows you’re pretty, but he doesn’t have time to commit to anything outside of work—even if you smile at him like you’re happy to see him and how he’ll think about it later: on missions, at his desk, during morning runs. His head is nothing short of woven webs with thoughts of you stuck in the middle.

Honestly, it’s that you—

(You try to make small talk with him every morning, and Simon is starting to think it’s just for him because on the days he doesn’t come alone, you merely scan his card and go back to reading the open paperback book on the desk.)

It’s weird because it’s almost like you—

(He bumps into you at the supermarket and makes a dumb joke about carrots that makes you laugh. It makes him a little tongue-tied and awkward afterward because he realizes he hasn’t talked to a woman outside of only wanting a quick fuck in a really long time, but more importantly, he wants to hear it again. 

Instead, he tosses potatoes in his cart and walks away.)

He tells himself it means nothing, or not how Simon wants it to.

You’re just…he’s not even sure; acquaintances? Maybe more than that, but less than friends. Somewhere in that odd in-between phase where he only knows bits and pieces but not the whole picture.

Sometimes, he wishes—

(Simon doesn’t know what he’s doing the first time he invites you to meet the guys from work on a night out. He’s dated around a few times and had his fair share of hook-ups, but this isn’t like that. His palms are sweaty, more than usual, and no amount of wiping them on the thighs of his jeans keeps them dry.

Then you walk into the bar in a dress that’s probably too light for early spring in London—even though he stares appreciatively at the long expanse of your legs as you walk up to the table—and he wishes he wasn’t introducing you as his friend.)

But you—

(A new development happens after you slip him your phone number on one of the gym’s business cards—it’s weird that we don’t have each other’s numbers, so message me sometime or whatever—and he messages you ‘hey’ right before he leaves for a mission a few days later. 

It slowly shifts and changes over time.

You start sending him texts in the morning. Never an actual good morning text, but of the dogs you take on walks, the sunrise, the new flower box in your window. Somehow, it’s better.)

You really are—

(His house feels too hot, and he’s distracted from the movie by how close you are, how your leg drapes over his under the blanket, fingers fisting into his sweater at his stomach that clenches. An ache that grows, throbbing, spreading from his abdomen to his groin.

It feels monumental—something more than the gentle touch to the elbow to squeeze by each other in his entryway earlier or giving you his jacket that night at the bar—a tilt of the axis that makes the messy pieces fall neatly into place. 

He must be staring because you glance up at him, smiling, and the sound from the TV turns into white noise in the background.

“Can I…would you—fucking hell,” Simon runs a hand through his hair. “Can I kiss you?”

When your lips press against his, and his hands are pulling you onto his lap, where you settle hotly against his dick tenting in his jeans, he wonders why neither of you has done this before. Just kissing—him licking the seam of your mouth, and you panting his name.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” you mumble, lips brushing his.

“Me too,” and he fists his hand into the hair at your nape and pulls you back to his mouth.)

“I knew you’d be trouble,” he tells you one day, glaring at the bloke further down the bar who tried making a swipe at your ass before Simon showed up, towering over his shoulder with your fruity cocktail in hand.

“Oh, yeah?” you giggle, leaning into his side.

“Yeah,” the corners of his mouth quirk, though he hides it when he presses a kiss against your temple. “A real pain in my ass, love.”

“But yours.”

This time, he does smile. “Yes, but mine.”

Masterlist

[thewidowsledger]

Toothbrush

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Nerd!Natasha Romanoff x MILF!Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Tags | Warnings: +18, AMAB!Natasha, beefy and super nerdy Natasha, MILF!reader, reader is 39 and Natasha is 22, dating apps, Tony being a good and a bad friend at the same time, lying about age, reader has sons, dirty talk, switch r & Nat but more like a top!Natasha, breeding kink, mommy kink, breast sucking, riding, teasing, rough sex, creampie, squirting, overstimulation, fingering (r receiving), ghosting (kinda), unintentionally stealing clothes👀 (?)

Author’s Note: I know I said I am going to post this tonight but my daimonion is telling me to post this right now, lol. This fic is inspired from this request, but I changed it like a lot lot I guess...I hope it's fine for whoever requested it🥹 the title is inspired by DNCE's song: Toothbrush I am currently banging with this song for weeks now.

Navigation | Masterlist

⧗

“F-fuck please be bad Mommy.” Natasha whined.

“No mommy wants to be bad to their baby…”

⧗

“What do you want Tony?” Natasha chuckled as she saw her best friend on her apartment door at 7 o’clock early in the morning, standing there holding a pizza box. “Really? Pizza? Early this morning?”

Tony rolled his eyes and pushed his way inside, shutting the door behind him. “Well, thank you for the warm welcome,” he teased. “Before I go to my asshole of a father’s place, I want to do one thing. Something purposeful for you, my friend.”

Nat raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what would that be?” she asked, as she led him to the living room of her small apartment.

“Let me see your phone,” he said, taking it out of her hands.

“Hey, wait!” the redhead protested, but Tony was already fiddling with it. “What are you doing?!”

“Setting up an account on a dating app,” he replied, typing away.

“Wow. So this is your grand purpose? Setting me up on a dating app? I’m touched.” She said sarcastically. She watched him, a box of pizza on his left hand and her phone on the other, seriously typing whatever it is that is asked to fulfill the account—he is really serious about setting her up on a dating site.

“You gotta be kidding Tony…”

“Nope. Enough robotics Romanoff before you turn into one.”

Nat’s eyes widened as she suddenly realized that she told Tony her plans. And a wave of regret washed over her. She had meticulously scheduled out her entire summer break even though it hasn't started yet, she intended to spend time working on her robotics project every single day of the summer break. But now, with Tony in the picture with her phone in his hands, she could already imagine the chaos that was going to ensue.

The dating preference section came up and Tony immediately, with no hesitations, clicked women. It had been common knowledge among their friends that Nat had a strong liking for girls. He chuckled to himself, thinking about the kind of women the app would likely recommend for her.

“Let’s make things spicy,” he said under his breath as he set the age range for Natasha’s profile.

With a few taps, he set the age preference to 30-50 years old. “You’ll thank me for this, Nat,” he said with a sly grin on his face.

Every time he and Nat would pass some women on the street, Tony would stealthily observe Nat’s reactions. Whether it was a woman walking past them with her kids or a lady jogging in tight-fitting leggings who he was sure was around 35 to 40, the red head is drooling already. Tony had taken note of Natasha's undeniable interest in women—women who are old enough to be her mother.

The last step came, he only needed to pick a photo of Natasha and it's all done and set up, ready to swipe left and right. So he went through her gallery to find photos of her, but her gallery is just full of screenshots about freaking science.

As Tony sifted through Natasha's gallery, his mood grew more impatient and bored.

“Seriously Nat, you’ve got like a million screenshots of scientific articles and memes about space, and when you do actually take a photo, it’s of some historical artifact in a museum. This is like a grandma’s photo album…” He grumbled, scrolling further.

“Okay, that’s enough.” The redhead stood from the sofa but Tony backed away not even looking at her, too busy to smile like an idiot with whatever he saw on her phone.

“Damn, Nat,” he muttered under his breath, a smirk forming on his face. “I had no idea you were hiding this much muscle under those baggy clothes.” He came across a couple of mirror shots that Natasha had taken in the gym. In these photos, she was wearing a tight-fitting black tank top and some baggy shorts, showing off her muscular arms and strong physique.

Tony chuckled, his eyes still glued to the photos of Natasha’s flexing arms. “Yeah, definitely milfs will absolutely love these shots.”

Nat couldn't help but blush, both at the compliment and at the mention of milfs. “You really think so?” she asked, a hint of shyness in her voice.

“Oh yeah, they would swipe right in a heartbeat,” he said, chuckling. “These are juicy…”

“Okay, you sounded perverted. Gimme that…” Natasha was finally able to get her phone back and Tony raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I was just trying to get some good pictures of you in there. You gotta give the ladies something to look at, you know?”

Tony watched as Natasha went through the app, “You just need to click confirm, and it’s all set up…but it’s still your choice. And…I gotta go, mom’s gonna call me.”

Natasha paused and looked at Tony with relief and confusion. She was grateful for the break in the conversation, but she also didn’t want him to leave just yet. “Okay...go ahead. Can’t keep mommy waiting.” She said jokingly.

“Okay now that sounded perverted coming from you, Romanoff.” Tony pointed a finger at her while walking backwards towards the redhead’s apartment door.

“I’m just kidding,” Natasha let out some giggles as she walked Tony off her apartment, “Don’t kill your father, Tony.”

“I’ll try not to, I can’t believe mom wanted me to spend half of my summer with him. I love her so much that I’ll do anything she asks of me even though it’s spending some time with the man who hurt her.”

“You’ll be fine, just don’t get your hand bloody like last time.”

Tony chuckled and saluted her back, then turned to leave. “I make no promises, Romanoff.” He sighed, Natasha just gently patted Tony’s shoulder and when she was about to close her door, her best friend's foot stopped it from closing.

“Goodluck with the milf hunting.”

⧗

For the next few days, Nat found herself thinking about the dating app and Tony’s playful attempt to set her up. She would secretly open the app every now and then but couldn't bring herself to swipe in any direction. She thinks all these women are deserving to be dated, but she could only pick one of course.

Finally, one night, Natasha couldn't resist the temptation any longer. She sat on her couch to browse through the potential matches. She’d take her frustration out on her pillow, mumbling to herself about how ridiculous this all was. But she continued, her heart raced as she began swiping through the profiles. Her cheeks flushed with a hint of embarrassment as she came across various women who fit her preference—older, attractive milf, thanks to her best friend who knew exactly what her type is.

As she read the bios, she couldn’t help but be intrigued by some of their descriptions. They were confident, successful, and had a certain allure about them that made her even more flustered.

She should've swiped right to have more chances of winning like what Tony advised her, but Natasha continued swiping left through profiles. Yes, she noticed that the women she saw were undeniably beautiful, however, she wanted to see something different, that's why she started swiping left. It wasn't because she found them unattractive, but rather because they didn't quite match the image she had in mind.

She was so intimidated, all these women looks so powerful—like how women should be. So far she'd seen woman who's a pilot, CEO, business owners and many jobs that she for sure puts a lot of zeros on their bank accounts. Not that she didn't want that and she's definitely not opposed to the idea of being a sugar baby, but...she wanted someone who's simple, domestic yet can lead her.

Each profile she scrolled through brought a mix of excitement and anxiety, yet curiosity pushed her to keep searching for that one woman who would make her heart skip a beat.

“Y/N, 39 years old, mother of two, loves gardening, sketching…” she read to herself, trying not to blush as she looked at your photo. Most women she had seen in this app either had a picture with the Eiffel tower or a selfie inside the high premium car—no offense, she loved everything old women do but you, you had a picture of yourself in a beautiful garden she thought was in your place, surrounded by lush greenery. Your genuine smile and a sparkle in her eyes stood out to Natasha.

“Just 4 hours drive away from here…”

Natasha's heart raced as she nervously swiped right on your profile, her hand trembling a little. The moment she did it, she immediately slammed her phone shut and threw herself onto her bed, her heart pounding in her chest.

The thought of you potentially seeing her profile and possibly matching with her made her stomach flutter. The redhead buried her face into her pillow, unable to wipe the redness of her face.

She stood and immediately put on her glasses to distract herself from the constant nervous feeling of seeing a notification from the app, Natasha threw herself into various activities to keep her mind occupied. She deep cleaned her apartment, organized her cluttered drawers, and even got started on her robotics project.

Days passed, but there still wasn't any notification from the dating app. And Natasha actually forgot about it, the robotics project she's working on consuming and occupying every time she had for the day.

Natasha was deep in thought, working on her project, when the sudden notification sound from her phone jolted her from her focus. Startled, she picked up her phone, expecting it to be an email from the agency she applied for an internship or her sister asking for some 5$ on cash app.

However, when she looked at the screen, her heart almost jumped out of her ribs when she saw the dating app icon. She shakingly and immediately opened it.

You: Hi dear

Natasha found herself biting her lower lip, wrestling with her thoughts. She’d faced down debaters, cracked numerous codes, and aced countless exams and quizzes. But responding to a simple “hi” from an older woman had her completely flustered. It was a ridiculous feeling, but she couldn't deny the butterflies in her stomach at the thought of conversing with you.

She typed and deleted various responses, unsure of what to say, until finally, she decided on something simple yet respectful at least.

Natasha: Good evening, how are you?

You: I’m good, just finished cooking some dinner. You?

Natasha: I haven't eaten anything yet, I was working for a project.

You: That's not good for your health and for those massive muscles of yours.

Natasha felt her cheeks grow warm as she read your reply about her muscles. Tony was indeed right when he said milfs will definitely like those. She hadn't expected you to notice that detail, but reading it brought a smile to her face.

Natasha: Massive muscles? I think you're exaggerating a bit.

She typed, trying to downplay your compliment, yet secretly loving the attention.

You: Exaggerating? Not one bit, love. Your biceps are godly💪🔥

You responded, clearly amused by her attempt to deny your compliment.

Natasha felt her heart rate increase at your playful banter and the cute emojis you used. She couldn't help but feel the pain of her cheeks from smiling with your attention and the nicknames you’re calling her.

Nat: Thanks :)))

You: So…where exactly do you live in Brooklyn?

⧗

“Y-you should... probably stop that…” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I-I'm not... I'm not good at…”

You slowly start to grind your hips against Natasha, feeling her body tense up beneath you. Her eyes dilate, and she licks her lips nervously.

Despite her protests, you continue to grind against her, feeling her hips instinctively buck up to meet yours. Natasha’s face turns a deep shade of red, and she lets out a soft whimper as she feels herself getting hard beneath you. “P-please... stop…”

And you did, you pause, lifting your hips away from her but you were still straddling her—kneeling straightly where your tits were right in front of her. Natasha whines softly at the loss of the friction, her hips bucking forward as if seeking more. You smirk mischievously, leaning in close to her ear. “I’m stopping because my baby told me to. Mommy has to listen to what her baby says, mommy doesn’t wanna be bad.”

“F-fuck please be bad Mommy.” Natasha whined.

“No mommy wants to be bad to their baby…”

Natasha lets out a frustrated whine again, her hips bucking forward again as she chases the friction she was just denied. “B-but... Mommy... it feels so good…you’re so good…” she whimpers, her eyes filled with need and puppy-dog sadness. “Please... just a little more…”

You slowly unbutton your top, revealing your bra. Natasha’s eyes flick down to your chest, watching intently as you unhook the bra and let it fall to the floor. Your bare breasts come into view, you guide Natasha’s face to your chest, gently cupping the back of her head. Her mouth parts slightly, and you can feel her warm breath on your tits. “Be good and suck Mommy’s tits,” you whisper, your voice laced with desire.

Natasha like a good baby she is, eagerly obeys, pressing soft kisses to your breasts. She kisses and licks, her touch gentle and reverent. You can hear her breathing grow heavier, feel her body tensing as she gets more aroused.

“That's it, baby. Be so good for Mommy…”

Her mouth finds your nipples, and she begins to suck and lick enthusiastically. She moans against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. You can feel her hands gripping your waist tightly, her nails digging in slightly.

She continues to suck and lick your peaks, her cold glasses press against your warmth against the skin of your breasts, the temperature difference sending goosebumps across your flesh. You moan softly, your fingers tangling in her hair to keep her head in place as she paid attention to both of your tits.

After several minutes of shared attention on your tits, you guide Natasha's face back up to yours. You lean down and press a soft, passionate kiss to her lips finally settling back down to her lap feeling her hard once again.

Your hands gently stroking Natasha’s braided hair. You reach out and slowly move your hands towards her shorts, immediately feeling her hard cock through her boxers. Her eyes widened as he realized what you're doing. You then pulled out his cock spring free.

“Guess who’s being bad, hm?”

“Please…p-please mommy.”

You carefully shifted to position yourself on Natasha’s pointing cock. You guide her hands to your hips as you slowly lower yourself onto her. You can see the shock and pleasure on her face as you envelope her with your warm walls. “Y/N…” she stammers.

“That’s not my name baby.”

“Mommy, please!”

You bit your lower lip and began to move, taking her in and out of your warmth, Natasha’s head lolls back, her mouth opening in a silent 'O' of pleasure. Her hands on your hips tighten, her fingers digging in slightly. “It's...it's so tight, Mommy…you’re so…”

“Mhm, yeah?” You pant condescendingly, “Mommy’s what baby?”

“So good! So tight!” She cries.

“Oh yeah?”

You lean down, your breath hot against her ear. “That's because Mommy’s special hole is made just for my special baby. Only for you…” You punctuate each phrase with a slow thrust, taking her deeper.

Natasha’s breathing grows faster, her chest rising and falling rapidly against yours. Her hips buck upwards to meet your slow, languid movements. “Mommy...it...it feels…so good…” she moans softly, her voice barely a whisper. “I... I think I'm... I'm…”

“Are you good?” You asked, but the redhead didn't answer, her eyes shut closed behind her fogged glasses and was too focused on her pleasure and you loved it.

“Are you good, Natasha?” Now you calling her on her first name caught her attention.

“Y-yes…”

Your hands gripped her shoulders as you continued to ride her. “Then hold it, baby. If you're good you’re going to hold it until Mommy says you can come…” You increase the pace slightly, your own pleasure building as you feel him throb inside you. “That's it... just hold on…”

Her face scrunches up in concentration, her hands bruising your waist. “M-Mommy... it's...it's too much...I can't... I can't hold it…” she whines pitifully, his voice filled with need and desperation. “Please…”

“No, baby. You hold it. You can do it. Mommy knows you're strong…” You lean back further, grinding down onto her, your abdominal muscles flexing, “and you’re good, you can do it baby.”

Natasha lets out a high-pitched whine, her body trembling as she tries her best to obey. “I-I'm trying...Mommy...I'm trying to be good…” her body stiffens, her back arching slightly as she struggles to hold back.

You lean in close, your voice dropping to a low, soothing tone. “That's my baby... You're doing so well... just a little longer…”

Her face flushed with heat, her pupils dilating as she watched you with an agape mouth, riding her. Suddenly, her expression turns defiant.

“Fuck...maybe I wanna be bad,” she grips your hips tightly and begins to thrust up into you, ignoring your command. “Fuck, mommy I wanna be bad.”

You’re taken aback by her sudden defiance, your eyes widening in surprise. “Natasha... baby, no...oh! ” Your voice trails off as she continues to thrust into you deliciously.

“Shit baby, fuck you’re so strong!”

So now, it's you who's trying to hold back, but Natasha’s sudden burst of strength is overwhelming. She's too powerful, too determined. Her thrusts become brutal, pounding into you with relentless intensity. You're trapped, pinned on top of her dominant form, unable to escape the force of her desires.

“Natty…baby stop…”

“I can't stop, Mommy…” she moans, her body tensing as she reaches her limit. “I... I'm gonna...I'm gonna come...I'm gonna come inside you…” she throws her head towards your shoulder, her movements become erratic, her hips bucking wildly as she empties himself into you. You're left shocked, gasping, trapped on top of her as she finds her release.

“Turn around...get on your hands and knees…”

“Wha—”

Your shocked expression quickly turns into one of pleasure as Natasha’s dominant commands wash over you. You scramble to obey, turning around and dropping to your hands and knees. Natasha stands up, her hands gripping your hips as she holds you in place. “Good...my good girl... Now stay like that…”

As Natasha starts to move behind you, you feel a surge of emotion. Shock, awe, and a touch of humiliation mix together. You never imagined that she would take control like this, especially after she’d seem like the one to submit. Now, the roles are reversed, and you’re the one being taken.

Natasha's grip tightens around your hips as he begins to thrust into you from behind. The angle is different, deeper, and you can't help but let out a moan. “You like that, hm, Mommy?” she growls.

“You like being on the other end, don't you?” she thrusts deep, her hips slapping against your ass. “Answer me…” her hand reaches around, finding your most intimate spot. “Answer me or I'll stop…” she teases you mercilessly.

“Yesyesyes!”

Natasha suddenly pulls out, lifting you up and carrying you to the edge of the bed. She sits down, easily manhandling you over her lap. Your back rests against her chest as her hands held your thighs, keeping your legs wide open as she slides her cock back into your wetness.

She spreads your thighs wider, her knees pushing yours apart as she continues to pound into you. Her touch is unyielding, her rhythm punishing.

“Hold your thigh…” she took your hand and put it to keep your thigh up. “Hold...hold the other...hold both…” she commands, her breath hot against your neck. You comply, your hands gripping your thighs tightly as her strong hand comes down to string your throbbing clit.

“Oh God...Oh God, Natasha...Please... I can't...I can't take it anymore…” Your cries fill the room, your tits bouncing as she pounded inside you.

You threw your head back against Natasha's shoulder, exhausted from your struggles. She reaches up, her hand cupping your jaw and turning your head. Her mouth descends on yours, swallowing your moans. Her tongue slips past your lips, dueling with yours as she continues to pound into you.

You try to wiggle away from her relentless touch, but a strong hand wraps around one of your thighs, pulling you back. “Oh, no you don't…” Natasha's voice breathed in your ear, her hold was strong to keep your legs apart.

Her fingers never stop their relentless strumming on your clit and her cock pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for me, mama…” she whispers in your ear, her voice dark and commanding. “Squirt all over my cock…”

Her words send you over the edge. With a loud cry, you laid your head on her shoulder, your body convulsing as you came undone. You squirt all over her, your juices gushing out as she continues to thrust into you.

“That's it…” Natasha's own release hits her hard. With a final, brutal thrust, she buries herself deep inside you, her body shuddering as she comes. Her hot seed fills you up, spilling out around her still-pulsating cock. You can feel her hot cum mixing with your own fluids, the combined liquid slowly leaking out of you. You can't help but moan at the sensation, your body continuing to spasm when her cock bumped accidentally in your clit.

“You’re so good for me, mama.”

⧗

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping outside. Blinking your eyes open, you find yourself alone in Natasha’s bed. You stretch, wincing slightly at the soreness between your thighs. A quick glance around the room reveals no sign of the girl.

You sit up, rubbing your temples as a wave of guilt and self-disgust washes over you. Post nut clarity hits hard.

“How could I have been so stupid?” You chide yourself, your voice barely a whisper. “I drove four hours just to...to sleep with a stranger on a dating app.”

“Am I really that desperate for a good fuck?” you whisper harshly to yourself.

Panicked, you start searching for your clothes, but they're nowhere to be found. “Where are my clothes?” You mutter, your heart pounding in your chest. Your gaze falls on a large, plain shirt draped over a chair. You grab the shirt, smiling as you read what was printed on it

“The physics is theoretical but the fun is real.”

You quickly slip it on, the fabric swallowing you whole. It reaches down to your mid-thighs, the hem fluttering around your bare legs. You realize with a blush that you're not wearing anything else—just the shirt and your damp underwear.

You decide to take in the surroundings of the woman you slept with last night, it wouldn't be bad wouldn't it? The first thing you notice is how clean and organized Natasha's room is. The walls are adorned with intricate diagrams of solar systems, planets, and stars, each one meticulously labeled and colored. You spot a few custom-made lamps on the desk and shelves, their shapes resembling various celestial bodies that you thought she made herself.

The lamps cast a soft, warm light over the room, their glow mimicking that of distant stars. You see a bookshelf crammed with books on astronomy, physics, and electronics. A large whiteboard takes up one wall, covered in complex mathematical equations and diagrams.

Your gaze drifts downward, landing on a piece of paper on the floor. So you bend down to pick up the paper, smoothing it out on the table as you sit down. At first glance, it appears to be an application of some sort. Your eyes scan the page, taking in the details of information you see.

“Natasha...Alianovna Romanoff,” you smiled as her name tumbled out of your lips. “Beautiful name to moan to...”

“December 3,” you frowned, tilting your head slowly as you read the detail, “2002…” you felt your heart dropped to your stomach.

“22 years old?”

A sound of footsteps and a humming echo from outside the room made you alarmed. Panicked, you gripped the paper and rush towards the door, slipping out just as it creaks open. And there you saw Natasha who was cooking some breakfast.

She looks up as you exited her room, her eyes widening briefly as she takes in your appearance. Your hair was a mess and you're wearing her clothes—her favorite one, the oversized t-shirt clings to the curves of your breasts, revealing the outline of your hardened nipples. The hem barely reaches mid-thigh, revealing your bare legs—and your nude colored panties she herself took off last night.

You march towards her, barefoot, brandishing the application paper like a sword.

“You're 22?!”

“Wha—”

“Your bio says you're 28!”

“Wha—I-I didn't kno—”

“That's bullshit!”

“And I was like...God! I slept with someone who's the same age as my sons.” You mimic the same line you said as you recall the events of what happened weeks ago, sharing every detail with Thena, your best friend. She was in fact, the one who told you to try going on a dating app.

“At least you had a good fuck,” Your eyes widened with Thena's vulgar words but you hesitate for a moment before nodding, your face burning with embarrassment. Because, well, it's true...

“Yeah...it was…” You trail off, unable to meet her gaze.

“Good? Good?” Thena asks pulling the words out of you as she noticed you being hesitant.

“She was so gentle at first, almost shy...let me lead her but once she got going...whew!” You whistled softly, fanning yourself as you laughed.

“And you ghosted her…” You pause mid-laugh at your best friend's reply, you felt like she just slapped the reality across your face.

“I...” you raised your brows, palming your chest as you looked at her, “I didn't, okay, I just left. What would you expect me to do? She lied.” You defend, leaning down to your chair as you glance at your best friend who was eyeing you like she knows all your secrets. And she does though, but not this one.

“She's young, Thena,” you reason, “She'll move on. She'll meet someone new.” You dismiss the idea of Natasha being hurt by your not so sudden disappearance with a wave of your hand. “It's not like we had any emotional attachment or anything. Hell, maybe I am the third girl she had in her apartment that week. Who knows?” You chuckled humorlessly. You really wished you weren't.

“Hm, just fucking.”

“Exactly, just fucking,” you say, mirroring Thena's crude language. “We both needed that at the moment.” You nod confidently, convinced that's all it was—a simple physical need fulfilled, nothing more. But as you continue to talk, a small, secret part of you whispers that it was more than just a physical need. You felt a connection, a spark, something that went beyond the surface level. But you quickly silence that voice, deciding to keep your true feelings buried deep inside because there is no chance on getting back, you had deleted the app so there is no more way to contact her. But going to her place is a different conversation and there is no way in hell you're going to do that.

Sighing heavily, you rub your temples, trying to ward off the sudden headache that's formed.

“Besides, what would my sons think if they knew I was dating someone their age?” you muse aloud, looking at Thena with concern and embarrassment. “They'd probably be disgusted, Thee…I swear…”

“At least you're not robbing the cradle or y'know. It's not like she's underage or anything.”

“Okay, enough, stop justifying her age. She still lied, which I didn't like. I wouldn’t date someone who's the same age as my son and someone who’s younger, period.” You said with a finality making your best friend laugh at your now serious face, she’s really not used to you being like that.

“Gosh, they wouldn't even let me date anyone,” you sighed, slumping back in your chair dramatically, making Thena laugh even harder.

“You’ve got some overprotective babies there.” Thena chuckles between giggles.

You can't help but agree with your best friend, nodding your head in agreement. “Yeah, they are pretty overprotective. I swear, sometimes I think they forget I'm an adult too.” You smiled, remembering that your two sweet boys are coming home today for summer break.

⧗

You are excited and all jumpy thinking that every sound you hear is a knock on a door.

You started preparing for their visit, tidying up your home and making sure everything was just right and in place, especially with their bedrooms. The clock ticked by, and soon enough, finally, you heard a real knock towards the door.

With a quick glance in the mirror to make sure you looked presentable, you went to the door to open it. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves, and then swung the door open.

There they both stood, a cocky smile on their face as they greeted you with a casual “Hey, Mom.”

“Hello my babies.” You almost cried on the spot seeing your grown sons.

“Whatchu cookin’ mama?” your eldest, Mark asked, kissing your forehead before entering the house.

“Your favorite beefy creamy mushroom, baby!” You shout.

“I love you so much, ‘ma!”

Before you could even reply, an arm wrapped around you in a tight embrace, and before you knew it, you were being lifted off the ground, your feet dangling in the air. You squirmed playfully, laughing as you tried to put your weight back down.

“Put me down, you little devil!” You scolded lightheartedly, playfully pushing against your son’s broad shoulders, though secretly enjoying the sweet gesture of your youngest.

As he finally set you down gently, a wide grin still plastered on his face, he let out a sigh and looked at you affectionately.

“I missed you so much, mom.”

“I missed you too, Tony.” You cupped his cheek and pestered him with so many kisses making him giggle.

“I...uhh mama, I hope you wouldn’t mind, I am sorry for telling this to you right now. But I brought a friend over, if that’s fine?” you placed your hands on his shoulders, as he looked at you with his usual puppy-dog eyes, “I owe her big time, I was the reason she’s heartbroken and why her favorite shirt is stolen.”

“Yeah, yeah...” you nodded encouragingly to assure him that it's okay to have some friend over, and the mention of a stolen shirt made you laugh—it was silly you thought.

“Yeah, sure baby…you ca—” you trailed off, your world stopping as you saw the friend your son brought over, standing just few steps behind him.

The friend your son brought over was none other than the person who haunted your dreams every night, the same woman you shared a night with many weeks ago that gave you the most earth-shattering orgasm that not even their father could give.

And you found her looking back at you, her gaze trailing down the shirt you’re wearing that was in fact hers.

“Mom, this is Natasha.”

[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo buying (y/n) souvenirs after every mission and finding out she kept EVERYTHING

Pairing: Gojo x reader (fem!pronouns)

Word Count: 1,2k

Synopsis: Since your joyful smile is so addictive, Satoru can't help but buy you a souvenir every time he goes on a mission. After a few months, he realizes by accident that you do, in fact, keep everything he gifts you...

Warnings: this is fluffness overload so be prepared, (y/n) has a really bubbly and Mitsuri-like personality, let me know what you thiiiiink and enjoy your holidays🤍

Your heart jumps up and down in joy, feet carrying you down the hallway at lightspeed. Finally he’s back. How long has it been since you’ve last seen him? Definitely too long.

“Satoru!”, you cry out.

There he stands, his arms already wide open while wearing the casual sly grin you adore so much. You can’t contain yourself any longer, your giggles filling his very own heart with nothing but joy.

Satoru doesn’t remember exactly how it all started. After some random mission, he saw a little figure of your favourite animal standing innocently in a show window. He didn’t think much of it, bought it only because it reminded him of you. But oh, you were so joyful back then.

“Are you kidding me?”, you breathed out, glossy eyes staring at the pretty ugly figure so heartfelt that Satoru couldn’t help but shamelessly stare at you.

“It reminded me of you since I know it’s your favourite animal, so yeah…You like it?”

“Like it?”

You grabbed his hands with so much passion that he almost fell backwards, jumping up and down in delight.

“I love it, Satoru! This is probably the nicest thing someone ever did for me!”

It was inevitable from there on. The urge to see your heartfelt joy after every mission became an obsession, forcing him to look into every window, into every shop on the haunt for something you might like. To be honest it made everything more bearable. The loss of his best friend, the people around him dying, all the things that keep him up at night seem to disappear when he’s looking for souvenirs to bring you.

And this.

You almost knock him over by the way you let yourself fall into his arms, hands intertwined behind his back just the way he likes it. Oh, your smell is so intoxicating, as well as your gorgeous appearance sends warm shivers down his spine. How is it even possible that you seem to get more and more breath-taking every time he sees you?

“I was so worried about you! Why didn’t you answer your calls?”, you mumble against the fabric of his uniform, instantly greeted by the singing smell of curses.

“Oh y’know, I had to do a little work from now and then. Like killing off some demons and saving a whole town from getting wiped out. So sorry I didn’t call you back”, he teases you gently.

“That didn’t stop me from getting something for you, though…”

Your eyes widen in sheer excitement, head darting towards him instantly.

“No, you didn’t”, you mutter, lips already forming the most adorable smile.

“Heck yeah I did.”

“I told you over and over that you don’t need to do that, Satoru!”

“Do you like them?”

You bite your lip in a miserable attempt to suppress the wide grin that creeps up your face, cheeks turning the shade of pink that makes Satoru lose his mind.  You are so breath-taking, so pure that it warms his heart.

“Of course I do”, you mumble into your hand.

“There you go.”

He hands you a small box, the brush of his tender touch against your hand sending electricity right through your body. With trembling fingers, you open the light blue ribbon wrapped around it, exposing a simple yet stunning necklace. You desperately try to hold back tears, so moved that you are utterly speechless.

This necklace isn’t this simple. No, engraved into it in Satoru’s iconic handwriting, it says “every thought, you”.

“You can’t be serious about this, Satoru. I really don’t deserve this.”

“You deserve this and even more, (y/n). Do you like it?”

“You ask me if I like it?”, you repeat breathless.

Your finger brushes over the engraving carefully, feeling every curve and every stroke of his elegant hand writing. This must have been expensive – way too expensive for a simple souvenir. But oh how much you love it already, you’ll keep this close to your heart day in and day out.

“I love it. Thank you so much.”

There’s no time to waste. With a swift motion you lunge yourself at him all over again, burying your face against his broad chest. You truly don’t deserve his kindness, his affection. What an outstanding man he is, so tender that it makes you tear up.

“I’d do anything to make you smile”, he mutters into your hair, hands stroking your back ever so gently.

Smile…Oh, you almost forgot!

“Would you…Would you mind coming to my dorm for a second? There’s something I want to give you as well.”

You wipe your tears away unladylike, your hand grabbing his before he’s even able to answer your question.

“Something you want to give to me? Remember when I told you you don’t have to buy me anything?”

“Remember when I told you the same?”, you remark with a slight grin, literally dragging him into your room.

In fact, you stumbled upon this cute figure of a white cat the other day. There was no way you’d leave without buying it, not when it reminded you so much of him.

You swing your drawer open without thinking twice, grabbing the cute little cat with your face glowing in proud.

“Okay, now that’s adorable”, Satoru laughs gently.

Somehow, his eyes get stuck on your drawer though. It looks messy, almost flooding over with all the pieced cramped into it. But no, that isn’t some random rubbish. That figure that stands in the middle of it, it looks so familiar. As well as all those letters, the sweets, the postcards…

It dawns to him, heart skipping a beat. These are all the souvenirs he brought you over the last few years.

“Don’t tell me you kept everything I gave you.”

Oh, please tell him you did.

“Huh?”

Your innocent eyes dart towards the drawer behind you, your cheeks instantly heating up all over again.

“Oh…of course I kept them! Why would I ever throw them away?”

“You even kept the packages of the sweets from last months…”

His heart almost overspills with love. You have to be an angel, too pure and kind for this world. Just one look into your tender eyes is enough to sweep him off his feet, the little cat he holds in his hand sending him over the edge.

“I just love to get reminded of you I guess.”

“And I love you, (y/n). You have to be the most precious human being I’ve ever met.”

The way your eyes widen and your mouth shoots open is priceless. You look so utterly surprised that he can’t help but chuckle while wrapping his strong arms around you all over again.

“Y-you, loving me?”, you stutter.

“Well, I was hoping you’d love me too-“

“I do”, you interrupt him immediately.

“I love you more than any souvenir!”, you babble out.

“That’s what a man needs to hear”, he laughs softly.

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @chilichopsticks

[cherryredstars]

Not sure if I’m doing this right since I’m new to tumbler :D but hi love ur writing followed you in an instant!

I was wondering if you could write something for a very low self esteem, inexperienced reader who goes to uni so is like 21 or something and is Miguel’s neighbor. They live in this building and their other neighbor is a rude lady who complains at the slightest Noise basically. she doesn’t dare bother Miguel but is always bothering the reader since reader can’t tell her to f off. Reader is just such sweet chubby lil cinnamon roll :(

Idk if I should have been less descriptive or more TvT; ?

Anyway hope you’re doing great :D don’t forget to hydrate ♥️

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Sexual Touching (With Clothes on), Slight Fluff

Summary: He helps you, you help him.

A/N: This is perfect, don’t worry, love!!!

Word Count: 2.4K (Not Edited)

This is most definitely going to leave you a crying wreck in your bathroom later.

Your nerves were already on high alert with finally becoming independent and moving out of the college dorms, that pesky exam and assignment you procrastinated on working on, and your job has been firing and hiring people left and right. The last thing you needed was your cranky old neighbor, (it is crazy to think that you once thought she was going to be a kind old woman who would give you cookies when she was lonely), to come banging on your door with a  list of complaints and reasons why she could get you evicted. You do not know what to do, never being in this type of situation before. Honestly, you do not even know about half the things this woman is accusing you of. 

You can only stand there, hand tightly holding the door open as you try not to cry from stress. In your head, you are counting in an effort to make sure your breaths are coming out evenly. The last thing you want is to have a panic attack and have your neighbor add the threat of a mental hospital to the list. You nod along weakly to what she says, letting out whispered apologies that only seem to make her angrier. 

“You useless teenagers and your need to ruin good things, don’t think I forgot when you tr-”

“Is there a problem here?”

His voice is deep and smooth, causing the both of you to jolt. You visibly relax when you turn your head to find Miguel standing outside his apartment door. He has just gotten back from work and running errands, his lab coat draped over his arm as he holds paper bags in his arms. His hair is slightly tousled from the autumn breeze, and a few strands of his black hair are scattered with grey. His sweater hugs his arms and torso in a way that is mouthwatering, and you quickly look away when his eyes meet yours.

Miguel is the only neighbor you really know. He had helped you the first time you moved in, hearing the way you struggled to bring some things up to your apartment. He offered to help, carrying in boxes faster than you could into your apartment. When you had gotten furniture, he was happy to come over and assemble it for you. He is so kind to you, offering to help with a leaking pipe or to answer any of your questions about how to do something. You might have grown a slight crush on your neighbor, something that slightly freaked you out when you realized because of the obvious age gap the two of you have. You have not even finished college yet and he is in his mid-thirties working in a big corporate lab. 

Miguel clears his throat and you look back at him. He stares at you expectantly, totally ignoring the stuttering woman who tries to answer his question. He is only ever interested in what you have to say. You flush under his intent gaze, quickly shaking your head. You do not want to cause more problems, and you definitely do not want to have your cranky neighbor form a bigger vendetta against you. 

Miguel’s eyebrow raises, definitely catching the anxious expression on your face. He hums dismissively after a minute, eyes lazily trailing back to the older woman. His nose scrunches up slightly at the sight of her and he looks away again as the woman stops trying to defend herself. Miguel shrugs, the paper bags rustling with their contents. He turns to face you, once again ignoring the older woman. 

“Then you wouldn’t mind helping me put away my groceries, right? Can’t get my keys with my hands full,” Miguel speaks in a lazy drawl. 

You are quick to nod your head in agreement, stepping out of your doorway and closing the door. The woman steps back, a displeased look on her face as she watches you walk over to Miguel. Miguel keeps his eyes trained on you, watching everything you do. You are shy when you smile up at him. With your back turned towards the old woman, you mouth a ‘thank you’ to him. His eyes instantly snap to your lips, intently studying your exaggerated words. His eyes seem to darken for a second before he blinks and it is gone. His eyes trail back up to your eyes and he tilts his head slightly down. 

“Keys are in my pants pocket.”

You quickly nod, whispering out an ‘okay’. Your face burns as you have to get closer to him to not knock into his arms. The angle is slightly awkward, your hands slip into his pants pocket and your face burns from having your hand so close to his…thing. As you try to find his keys, Miguel looks down at you with a heated look. He watches silently for a few minutes before looking back up and over your shoulder to the older woman. His face is masked in indifference, maintaining eye contact with her until she fidgets and turns away without saying a word. 

At the same time she walks into her own apartment, you make a sound of victory as you finally retrieve his keys. You dangle them in his face with a proud smile, and he gives you an amused smirk. He steps away from his apartment door, giving you room to step in front of him and unlock his door. As you insert the key, you feel Miguel press up against your back. His warmth seeps into your spine and you are quick to bite your tongue so you do not let out a squeal.  

His breath tickles your neck and ear, warm and slightly minty. “What did I tell you about standing up for yourself, hmm cariño?”

The question rumbles with his voice and you have to hold your breath in order to not make an embarrassing sound. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and instantly regret it. He has not moved his face yet, and you are a breath away from him. If you leaned forward the slightest bit, your noses would be touching. You gulp nervously, and Miguel’s eyes trail down to your lips once again. He lets out a deep hum as you lick them nervously. 

“I- she’s not that mean to me.” You whisper out in the older woman’s defense. You cannot help the way your lashes flutter as you try to meet his eyes. 

Miguel scoffs at your defense, finally backing away from you. He shifts his hold on the bags, freeing his hand to turn the doorknob. Your hand is still there, and your breath hitches when his large hand encompasses yours. His hand moves both yours and the doorknob, making a combined effort to open the door. You are still watching him from over your shoulder, mouth slightly opened in awe. Miguel looks down at you, something playful in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. 

“You’re blocking the doorway, cariño. The ice cream I got you is going to melt.”

Your blush returns from the pet name and you stutter out an apology as you rush inside his apartment. It’s warm, and you’re hit with the smell of him. You find the light switch and turn on the lights, flooding the whole place with a warm glow. Miguel follows you into the kitchen, placing the paper bags on the dining room table. He rummages through them, glaring at you when you try to grab one to start helping. His hands connect with something cold, and he pulls out a personal pint of ice cream. He hands it over to you and you turn it around to see the label. Your eyes instantly light up when you read the brand and flavor. Last week you had ranted to Miguel about how the grocery store did not have your favorite ice cream in stock as he was fixing a problem with your internet. The whole time he just hummed along, you did not actually think he was listening. 

He smiles softly at you as you beam up at him. He turns back to the groceries, sighing when he sees your hand reaching for the bags again. He turns to you with a bored expression. He gently removes your hands from the bag, telling you to go eat your ice cream before it melts. You grumble playfully under your breath, complaining about how you were supposed to be helping. He chuckles as he follows after you, getting a spoon out for you. 

“I thought the whole point was that I was supposed to help you put the groceries away, not eat them.” 

Your complaining is cut off by a yelp when Miguel grabs your waist. He lifts you up, putting you on top of the counter. Your eyes are wide as you look at him and his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You squirm slightly from his proximity. 

“You can help me by sitting prettily and keeping me company. Tell me about your day.” 

He pulls away then, returning to the dining room table and carrying a bag to the counter next to you. Your eyes are still bashful as you watch him, quietly opening your ice cream and beginning to eat it. Miguel starts to pull contents from the bag and looks over at you expectantly. Hesitantly, you begin to go through your day, easing into it the more you talk. You speak between bites of ice cream, half paying attention to Miguel as he walks around the kitchen to place things in their proper places. Occasionally, he looks over at you as you speak, his eyes trained on the way you place the spoon in your mouth and lick at the delicious treat. 

You are almost done when he puts the last thing away. He walks over to you as you continue talking absentmindedly, just finished slipping the spoon out of your mouth again. You stop talking when Miguel’s eyes drop to your mouth, his thumb coming up the swipe at your lower lip. When he pulls it away, a bit of melted ice cream is stuck to his skin. His eyes meet yours again when he brings it to his mouth, licking it away. He hums in appreciation for the taste. 

Your mouth drops open with a gasp as you watch, eyes trained on the pink muscle. You watch as his lips form a sly smile, and you blush as you look back into his eyes. But his eyes are still trained on your parted mouth, eyes dilated and hungry. He leans forward slightly, hand returning to rub at your bottom lip before he replaces it with his lips. He is not kissing you exactly, only sucking on your lip until it is swollen and red. He gives it a small nip before he pulls away, his hands falling to rub your thighs. It causes a small whimper to escape your mouth and Miguel basks in the noise. 

His hand seeps closer and closer to the area between your thighs, grabbing the carton of ice cream and moving it to the side. His hands hastily return to the area between your thighs, fingers brushing against your center. Your breath hitches and you look down to where his hands are. Your attention is snapped away when his gravelly voice meets your ears. 

“Continue with the story, querida. You don’t sound like you finished.”

You stutter over your words, the topic of conversation blanking from your mind. Miguel chuckles knowingly, his fingers continuing to brush up and down until they land on your clothed bud. He presses into it hard enough so you can feel it through the fabric of your pants and panties, gently reminding you where you left off. You nod nervously, hands snapping up to meet his shoulders as you feel wetness rushing into your panties. You stutter and choke on your words, eyes shutting as you rotate your hips sloppily into his hand. The movement is jerky, and you feel slightly embarrassed at how painfully obvious it is that no one has ever touched you like this before. But Miguel seems to like it, likes the idea that you’re untouched and he is the only person who has seen you like this. 

It gets even better when you make those soft noises, cutting yourself off and having to be reminded about what you were saying. Miguel continues his hand movements, pressing into you and rubbing and stroking. Your wetness has seeped through your panties, dampening the material of your leggings. If you were not lost in how good it feels, you would have been grossed out and uncomfortable. A weak call of his name escapes you and Miguel looks up from your cunt to look at your face. He hums in acknowledgement, watching as you try to pull his face closer to yours in a kiss. 

He swiftly avoids it, and you would have curled into yourself at the blunt rejection if you did not become distracted by his mouth suck and licking along your neck and jaw. Your mouth falls open with a moan, head leaning back to give him more room. He groans against your skin, fingers pressing tight circles to your clit. With a few hard circles, your back arches and your hold on him tightens. Gasping moans leave you and you feel the band in you snap, releasing more wetness into your panties as you finish. Miguel pulls his head away from your neck, keeping his fingers to your bud as you ride out the orgasm. Once you slump back down, he pulls his hands away. As you catch your breath, Miguel cleans up the mess on the counter. He reaches over, closing your melted ice cream and putting the spoon in the sink. 

You are still in a daze when he pushes the warm container in your hands, his own hands gentle as he lifts you off the counter. Your eyes are glossy in after-lust as he gently guides you out of his apartment and into yours. His warm hand leaves the small of your back, massaging your sides before he whispers a thank you into your ear for your help. You are only pulled completely out of your daze when you hear your door lock and close as Miguel leaves. You turn to look at the door, cheeks blazing as you clutch tightly onto your ice cream.

You are totally getting a noise complaint for that old woman tomorrow.

Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

Extra 1

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[aduh0308]

its giving stalker yj lowkey...

warnings: non!idol au, perv!stalker!yj, jerking off, he takes pictures of you changing, soft!dom yj, consensual sex, breeding kink, calls her 'good girl' and 'doll', not proofread

note: PLEASE don't read if you're not comfortable with this!

yeonjun who's so obsessed with you that he follows you on a new instagram account, _jjun, liking all your pictures, especially the ones from your beach vacation with your friends, pretty bikini that leaves just enough to the imagination to get him hard in his pants... such a pretty body, it's only human, isn't it? stroking his cock once, twice, eyes locked on the way yours meet the camera. if only you looked at him like that, especially if you were between his legs, tits pushing against your shirt... he's cumming all over his sweatshirt immediately, not even embarrassed that it only took that long, it's just the effect you have on him, isn't it, pretty?

yeonjun who finds out your address from mutual friends, and it's his lucky day, isn't it, the fact that the house just a few doors down is for rent, and he's paying for it immediately, it's a perfect opportunity. and you're so unaware of his reasons, bringing him fresh baked brownies when he first moves in, what a nice girl, aren't you? so oblivious to the way he's staring at you with such lust in his eyes, pure, unabsolved predatory hunger, and you're taken aback when he hugs you goodbye 😳 doesn't matter, he's cute, and hes not a bad hugger, but when he's laying in bed, the feeling of how you pressed against him so perfectly makes him a lil dizzy, remembering the feeling of every curve of your body...

yeonjun who takes late night walks once the sun sets, can see in through the windows of your house, loves just watching you... the way you walk around your house, sitting down at the table to do your work, going into your room to change into your pajamas, he's hard again just watching. going home night after night and trying to remember exactly how you looked taking your shirt off, but memory isn't enough sometimes, is it? so he buys himself a new film camera, takes it upon himself to snap pictures of you on his walk each night, ducking behind a parked car when your head snaps up to look out the window. each and every time you don't catch him, and soon enough, he's got tens of pictures in a box under his bed, chooses a different one to get off to each night, good thing they're all easy to clean because his cum paints your face in each one

yeonjun who starts leaving you single roses on your doorstep every night as well, theyre a little wilted by the morning but the sentiment is still romantic from his perspective, pretty girl should be happy that she has a secret admirer, but he notes the way you walk extra quickly to your car in the morning after spotting them, and he realizes he must be doing something wrong :((

so instead he connects himself to your wireless printer and sends what he thinks is a sweet note "you'll be mine someday, won't you, doll? i just know it -- J" signing it off with the first letter of the username he followed you with is a good touch, he thinks, and watches from the window as you head to your printer with an utterly confused expression, looking at the note and dropping it with a horrified look on your face, and you run out the door, into the pouring rain, and yeonjun walks down his driveway to see you with his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

youre so scared you're shaking, teeth chattering from the rain, and yeonjun plays the savior as well as the villain, taking such good care of you, comforting you and ushering you inside with a small smile, hands you a towel and some clothes of his to get changed into, hand him your wet clothes when you're done, won't you? he'll get them nice and dry for you later <3

yeonjun who helps you get cozy in his bed, laying behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, let me warm you up.. and you only nod, feeling his grip on you change, hiking down the sweatpants of his you're wearing and fucking you so soft in missionary, holding your hand, eyes locked on yours, you whine in weak protest but you don't not want this, and he smiles down at you with the excuse shush doll, let me make you feel better, alright? don't worry, gon' take good care of you, nothing bad can happen while i'm here, promise ill make all your worries go away <3

loves when you whimper pathetically underneath him, pretty fucked out brain doesn't know any better, all it knows is feels so good, jjun, can't-- can't breath right, feels t' good... and oh, how the way you called him jjun so innocently, your brain not comprehending what's coming out of your mouth gets yeonjun fucking you a little harder, still soft, because after all, that's what he's here for !! humming in your ear that his cum will warm you up so well, make you feel better, won't you take it like a good girl? loves the way your eyes glaze over just a lil when he fucks his load into you, pulling out moments later once you both recover from your highs, and hes stumbling to find you a wash cloth to clean you up with, accidentally kicking a box out from under his bed...

a box that you can only see the very corner of, but you can see enough that you know what's in there, and all of a sudden everything comes together in your mind, and yeonjun comes back with a smirk, you've figured out his little secret now, haven't you? c'mon doll, you're a smart girl, don't tell me you haven't figured it out?

kisses your neck with a smile and whispers, told you you'd be all mine, didn't i?

[pucksandpower]

Time to Kill

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: a locked supply closet door leaves you and Charles with some time to kill … and a few creative ways to do so

Warnings: 18+ content

You slip into the supply closet, giggling as Charles pulls you inside. The door clicks shut behind you and you find yourself enveloped in not-quite darkness.

“Shh!” Charles whispers, a smile in his voice. His hands come up to cup your face and you feel his lips on yours as he kisses you deeply. You melt against him, your hands sliding up his chest to loop around his neck.

He maneuvers you backwards until your back hits the shelves behind you. You gasp as various cleaning supplies and boxes tumble down around you. Charles laughs against your mouth.

“Oops,” he says.

You grin and kiss him again, not caring about the mess. His fingers tangle in your hair as the kiss grows more heated. You’ve only got a few minutes before he has to get back out for FP2, and you intend to make the most of it.

Charles’ hands leave your hair to travel down your body, caressing your curves. You trail kisses along his jaw as his fingertips slip under the hem of your shirt.

“I’ve been thinking about this all morning,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear.

“Me too,” you confess, sliding your hands under his fireproofs to feel his muscles tense under your touch.

He claims your mouth again, backing you against the shelves once more. You dimly hear more items falling but you’re too lost in Charles to care. His kisses leave you breathless, heat pooling low in your belly.

You break the kiss only long enough to tug his shirt over his head. He grins and returns the favor, peeling your top off. His eyes gleam in the low light filtering under the door as he takes you in.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says reverently, brushing his knuckles down your cheek.

You close the distance between you again, skin pressing to skin. Charles groans low in his throat as you trail open-mouthed kisses across his collarbone and down his chest. His hands grip your hips, pulling you impossibly closer.

You reach for the fastenings of his race suit, grinning wickedly up at him.

“I don’t think we have time for that, chérie,” he chuckles regretfully.

You pout playfully. “I guess you’ll just have to owe me later.”

“I guess I will.”

He claims your mouth again, intoxicating you with his kisses. You run your hands over the hard muscles of his back, nails grazing lightly. He shivers against you.

Slowly, reluctantly, you break apart, knowing your stolen moments together are at an end. You reach for your discarded shirts, handing Charles his.

“That was ...” You search for the right word.

“Incredible,” he supplies with a grin, kissing you softly.

You smile against his lips. “I was going to say smoking hot, but incredible works too.”

He laughs, drawing back to pull his shirt on. You start to do the same but pause with your shirt in hand, listening.

“Did you hear that?” You ask.

Charles stills, head cocked. “Hear what?”

You try the door handle. It doesn’t budge. Dread trickles down your spine.

“I think someone must have locked the door from the outside,” you say slowly.

Charles tries the handle too with the same result. He pounds a fist on the door. “Hey! We’re stuck in here!”

No response comes from the other side. Charles’ brow furrows worriedly.

You dig in your pocket for your phone to call for help, only to find it missing. “I must have dropped my phone on the way,” you realize.

Charles pats himself down too, shaking his head. “Mine’s still in the garage. No service in here anyway.”

You slump back against the shelves in dismay. Of all the times to get trapped somewhere, it has to be right between practice sessions. The team will be looking for him.

Charles pulls you into his arms. “It’s okay,” he soothes, though he looks concerned too. “Someone will come eventually.”

You nod, leaning your head on his shoulder. His solid warmth comforts you. At least you’re not alone.

“What do we do now?” You wonder aloud.

Charles’ eyes glint with mischief. “Well, we seem to have some time to kill ...”

You give him a coy smile. “I can think of a few ways to pass the time.”

His eyes darken, hands tightening on your hips. “Can you now?”

In response, you crush your mouth to his in a searing kiss. He responds instantly, kissing you back fervently. Your hands slip under his shirt once more, splaying across his bare chest and feeling his heart thunder under your touch.

Charles maneuvers you backwards until you hit the shelves again. You sweep your arm across the surface, sending supplies crashing to the floor so he can lift you up to sit on the now cleared ledge. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against you.

He trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat and you tip your head back to give him better access, sighing in pleasure. His hands glide up your sides, rucking your shirt up. You quickly strip it off and reach for his next, desperate to feel his skin on yours.

Once you’re both shirtless, he pauses to look at you, desire burning in his gaze. “So beautiful,” he rasps, making your cheeks flush happily.

He ducks his head to capture one of your breasts through the lacy fabric covering it, teasing you with his tongue. You gasp and arch into him. His other hand skims up your thigh, his touch igniting sparks everywhere.

Needing more, you reach behind you to unclasp your bra. Charles groans at the sight and lavishes them with attention until you’re squirming with need.

“Charles, please ...” you moan.

With a wicked grin, he hikes up your skirt and finally slips his hand between your legs, fingers stroking you through the thin fabric of your underwear. Your head falls back against the shelves with a thunk and your eyes slip closed.

“You’re so wet already, mon cœur,” he murmurs. His deft fingers slip beneath the panties to stroke your slick flesh. You cry out, clutching at his shoulders.

“Shh, we have to be quiet,” he reminds you with a chuckle. You bite your lip, trying to muffle your noises of pleasure.

When his fingers sink into your heat, you see stars. He knows just how to touch you, working you steadily towards a shattering climax. Your nails dig into his back and your legs tense around his hips.

“That’s it, let go for me,” he coaxes. With a few more skillful strokes, your orgasm crests over you and you shudder through wave after wave of bliss.

As you float back down, Charles kisses you deeply, letting you taste your pleasure on his lips.

“Incredible,” he smiles against your mouth.

You lean your forehead against his, catching your breath. “Your turn,” you say with a suggestive wiggle of your eyebrows.

He grins. “I thought we didn’t have time?”

You slide off the shelf to sink to your knees before Charles. Looking up at him through your lashes, you make quick work of the bottom half of his race suit.

“We’ll make time.”

You tug it down past his hips, freeing his erect length. He inhales sharply as you take him in your hand, stroking up and down experimentally.

“Putain,” he grits out, bracing his hands back against the shelves behind you.

You keep your eyes locked on his face as you lean in, swiping your tongue over the tip of him. His jaw clenches, muscles in his arms cording as he fights to stay still.

Emboldened, you take him fully in your mouth, reveling in his bit-off groan. You set a steady pace, lapping at him with your tongue. His hand comes up to tangle in your hair, not directing, just needing an anchor.

“So good, just like that,” he pants, eyes blazing down at you. You feel powerful like this, reducing him to incoherency with just your mouth.

You pick up the pace and his hips twitch involuntarily. You place your hands on them to keep him still, taking him as deep as you can. His thighs tremble under your touch.

“I’m close,” he warns breathlessly.

You double down on your efforts, eager to push him over the edge. His fingers tighten in your hair and moments later he spills into your mouth with a choked off cry. You swallow everything he gives you, keeping up your ministrations as he shudders through his high.

Finally you release him with a soft pop and he hauls you up for a searing kiss.

“You are incredible,” he tells you fervently when you separate. “That was ...”

“Incredible?” You supply cheekily.

He laughs. “I’m going to need some new adjectives for you.”

“I believe there are other ways to thoroughly demonstrate your appreciation for me,” you smirk cheekily.

He smiles, hands coming up to grip your hips. “I live to serve.”

You rush to rid Charles of his remaining clothes before sinking down onto him. You both moan at the exquisite sensation. Bracing your hands on his chest, you begin to move.

Charles’ eyes are glued to you, watching reverently as you ride him. His hands span your waist, guiding your movements.

“You feel like heaven,” he grits out.

You increase your pace, taking him deeper. His fingers dig into your hips as his own begin snapping up to meet yours. The closet is soon filled with the sounds of your panting breaths and the slap of skin on skin.

You feel your climax building again, coiling tight. Charles’ thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles in time with the rhythm of his thrusts. The dual stimulation sends you careening over the edge again with a sharp cry of his name. Your inner muscles clamping down triggers Charles’ own release. He plunges up into you erratically, your name a prayer on his lips as he spills inside you.

You collapse forward onto his chest, nuzzling into his neck. He holds you close, hands stroking your hair and back soothingly as you both catch your breath.

Finally he tilts your chin up to meet your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. When you eventually pause for air, he keeps you close, feathering kisses along your jawline and down your neck. You tilt your head back, sighing in pleasure. His hands slide back under your breasts, tracing maddening patterns on the sensitive skin.

You’re completely lost in him when the door handle starts wiggling.

“Oh shit!” Charles scrambles for his underwear as you hop up, yanking on your skirt. You attempt to smooth down your thoroughly mussed hair.

The door swings open, revealing a broadly grinning Carlos Sainz. He looks between you and a sweaty, flushed Charles.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” Carlos asks with a laugh.

“We, uh, got locked in,” you stammer.

“By accident,” Charles adds quickly.

Carlos shakes his head, still chuckling. “You two are terrible at keeping your hands off each other. Might want to work on that before the race.”

You feel yourself blushing bright red. Charles clears his throat and avoids Carlos’ eyes.

“Right, well … thanks for letting us out, mate,” he mumbles.

Carlos smirks and claps Charles on the back. “No problem. Oh, and Charles? Your race suit is inside out.”

With that, he walks off down the hallway, laughing loudly.

Charles glances down and curses under his breath. You can’t help but dissolve into giggles too.

He shoots you a rueful grin. “Worth it.”

You smile and kiss him sweetly. “So worth it.”

[dreamesamu]

THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED

in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him

starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader

genre(s): angst to fluff, (super, like-) long scenario 

warning(s): none, i think so? except for clueless keiji and not proof-reading

author’s note: akaashi is just a major green flag in this (every haikyu!! boy is 😭) i feel too bad to write them red-flag-y.

choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi

you’ve known akaashi for quite some time, starting from your last year of fukurodani academy and then serendipity brought you both ended up being each other’s classmate at a same college/university. bokuto kotaro was your best friend, the little owl introduced his favorite setter to you and the friendship of three gradually become established, and as if it can not be any more inevitably, you eventually developed a secret admiration for the pretty setter when you three have been closed enough. however, graduating separated ways, kotaro pursued his journey to become professional in volleyball while keiji, once said to you he wanted a place in the literature department.

truth be told, even if you promised each other you would still keep in touch and plan every weekend friend group meeting online or offline, you’ve never expect you would share every class in higher education life with your crush, the akaashi keiji. the great thing is you both are paired up for an presentation assignment in the major you and him pursue, you do have plenty of time to stay close and grab his attention from making gestures that he usually failed to realizes.

here you are again, happily humming your favourite song while carrying a box wrapped with a small detailed towel, some big rolls of assignment paper stuck underneath your arm as you make your way back to where you both planned to finish the project - the library. 

“keiji, i’m back!” you set your things respectively on the table, and akaashi nods with a smile on his face in acknowledgement.

“oookay, so here’s your today’s snack, I hope you’ll like it” you grin, tapping on the box before pushing it to his side as he receives it and casually opens it while speaking.

“hmm? are those sketches of our poster? you can always edit them on the computer, why the effort?” he chuckled softly before completely unwrapping the bento box.

“I’m not good at designing and stuff. I may draw as I like and you’ll be the one to edit it on the computer.” you puff your cheek out, hands resting on hips as you watch his reaction to your delicately decorated sweets in the box made for him.

“this looks amazing.” he smiles upon seeing the pastries you made, decorated beautifully with different kinds of fruit as each pastry has different flavours, you probably did not stay up so late last night just to make all kinds of flavours for him to show how much you like him. yeah, probably not.

"oh, it's nothing, I just hope it doesn't taste bad" you chuckle nervously while scratching the back of your neck, letting his praise send you up to cloud nine.

your actions falter when you see akaashi put back the box's cap on, set it aside as he leans over to reach the posters you drew.

"now then, can we start working on the project?" he spreads out the piece of paper, glancing at you as you stand there awkwardly, prefer him taking a bite to look through all of your efforts than just shrugging it off and go straight to the main part of your study session.

"what...? oh- um..." you trail off, a bit embarrassed. "wouldn't you like to try one out? it won't hurt to just have a taste of it..."

"maybe later, y/n. we have other things need to be done right now." he merely states, eyes study the poster in front of him, unknowingly sinking your heart.

"yes, right." you shift slightly, taking the sit by the opposite of him, trying to catch up with him on the progress.

you let your mind wanders off how many times you've lost count already while akaashi quietly focused on scribbling something in his notebook, every thoughts you have are always about keiji, your feelings and the stare you give him thinking it's discreet. what's stopping him from trying my tarts out? and how does he feel being around me? or is that his way of rejecting something without making that person feel bad? flooded your mind.

"y/n?" you realize his faint voice ringing somewhere "y/n..." the voice becomes clearer. "earth to y/n, you're staring." awh, snap. right.

you blink, startled before clearing your throat, mumbling a small apology as you try to get yourself busy with the work underneath you once again.

but akaashi just chuckles, his voice calm and reassuring.

"hey, you seem off today. it's lunch break, please make yourself comfortable." you fumble at his words, it's noon already? as he collects his books and tidy it up at one corner of the table before speaking again.

"yuri satsuki is inviting me to have lunch with her. would you like to also join? i think she wouldn't mind." he kindly offers, probably not knowing the words struck you shocked.

you know satsuki-senpai, she's a year older than you and has been a social butterfly ever since you set foot in student life. she is a nice person, you conceived, but not until you found out that she has a huge crush on your akaashi keiji, her behaviour in your eyes became somewhat annoying. in return, she did realize she had a rival to win over him, you acknowledge that through the smug look she gave every time akaashi was around her instead of you, that is how the tension gradually builds up between you and your pain-in-the-ass rival.

and now she's even invited keiji for lunch? you feel an uncomfortable twist in your belly, screaming that if you do not take further actions, you lose akaashi to her. but his way of discarding your hard work, also known as an attempt to get his attention earlier discourages you hastily. this comes to a realization: ever since he start hanging out with satsuki-senpai, he has never touched one of your cooks once.

"no, i'm fine staying here. you go" you force a smile waving him goodbye. he hesitates upon seeing the downward trend of your mood as well as the strange attitude every time he brings up yuri.

"what are you waiting for?" you scoff, trying your best to make it sound not so bitterly. he nods quietly before ruffles your hair, thoughtfully remind you to get something to eat before start working again, and he'll be back with you soon.

you groan for the nth time in thirty minutes since his last leave, deciding not to eat anything at all after you laugh bitterly to yourself seeing the bento box laid cold by his stuffs which corrects your thoughts that he is not going to appreciate what you did for him.

the chair scraped the floor when you stand up, attempting to compose yourself when you feel your brain need a break from overthinking such situations.

on the way out of the library, your eyes meet yuri satsuki's, assuming that keiji is just somewhere around here as his lunch break partner is the person you least excited to bump into.

"well, well. isn't that the girl whose best friend choose to hang out with me instead of her?"

excuse me?

"don't get too ahead of yourself, satsuki-senpai. just a friendly reminder" your tone evidently irritated as you flash her an unamused smile, trying to avoid her as soon as possible.

but the radio scene of her voice replayed all over your head, your mind goes muddy despite the fresh air you're trying to take in, you let out a shaky breath, tears brimming out.

maybe, he doesn't quite noticed the things I did for him after all...

---

"you're back. where were you?" akaashi worried tone surprises you after a quite fine time of trying to find you because your study desk in the library was empty.

"i was... out for fresh air. why?" your voice is off and he noticed that. he always knew when something is bothering you, and right now he definitely know that something is wrong.

"after i finished my lunch i got yours, 'cause i know when i'm back you would still hadn't eaten anything." his brows slightly furrow seeing your avoiding attitude.

"thanks, keiji." you said briefly, take the package from his hand and sit down on your seat, never forget to notice the pastry box still intact.

your strange attitude didn't just stop there, it confuses akaashi for a more couple of days of your avoidance, he dislike the way you put a small distance between you both in study sessions, you flinch and tense around him more often, your answers and conversations are brief and sometimes awkward as you seem to be more preoccupied and attentive rather than to communicate with him.

"good morning, y/n." he smiles, your state has been bothering him for days as he is paying attention to your fade grin and a small "hey" as a greet back.

then he fumbles. something is missing...

oh. but then, realization sets in him quite quickly: you didn't bring any homemade sweets today.

"y/n..." he hesitates, meeting your eyes as you lift your head up from the notebook you're scribbling on. "does your home perhaps... out of ingredients or something?"

you are stunned for a moment, knowing exactly what he was trying to imply, scared to look at him directly in the eye as you shift your gaze elsewhere, pretending to have forgotten.

"oh... you mean the pastries... I forgot to do it. I was busy yesterday"

lies. he see through it, you know that, but you can't just blurt it all out that you're heartbreaking because of his indirect rejection that never says he doesn't like you, but makes you feel like it did.

"hey... i know something is wrong, can you tell me what it is?"

there it is - the worried look on such handsome face that never fails to make your heart flutter. but you know, that is just his nature of being an attentive and thoughtful person, not just for only you, but for everyone in his orbit.

so his question remained unanswered.

akaashi has been extremely distracted due to the sudden lack of your affection on him. it's just doesn't feel the same. even if he refuses it but deep down, he misses your midday snacks, your bubbly laugh around him and that flushed cheeks you wear every time he caught you staring. it has been a whole week since, and the fact that you didn't join the friend group video call with bokuto last sunday was his last straw.

he misses you, dearly. and if he doesn't do anything now before your project is finished, he might find it difficult to approach you even when you are his best friend.

and then, on an another lovely morning in the college's campus, an emotion he thinks he's aware of stirring in his stomach at the scene of you handing out a bento box wrapped with the same detailed towel, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as the other boy laughs lightly, scratches his neck, sending regards with a polite bow before making his way back in the classroom, akaashi doesn't like what his eyes have witnessed, so when he met yours, the bitterful look sends shivers down your spine.

you turn away, begin to walk, you do not want to deal with your bothered heart right now, not if it has anything to do with him, with that thought, you choose to neglect it because it is just your one-sided feelings for him.

but you hear footsteps behind, next is a small "wait" escaped from his lips when he managed to catch up and hold gently on your arm. that stopped you midtrack.

"please. can we talk?" he pleads.

---

you find yourself trapped by his presence in a corner of the school's library. there's no point in avoiding now.

"i'm sorry." he states. "i like you, i should've known."

your eyes widen. why- all of a sudden?

akaashi glances at you, softly sighs before bring your hand up to his face and kiss your knuckles gently.

"i understand now, i was clueless, you have the very right to be mad at me." each sentences he speaks crack your heart, but at the same time, they give you hope.

you neither know how to react, nor what to say, you just stand there, completely speechless, it encourages him to continue his speech of pursuing you.

"the last time i went to have lunch with satsuki, she confessed to me." he stopped, watching your expression. "but i turned her down, then, she got angry and started to brag about you. i did not like what she said, so i got quite defensive and... that was when i realised."

"i didn't know when it started. i just knew that i didn't feel very comfortable seeing you bringing your pastries that was meant for me to someone else, and more it's because i didn't appreciate it."

he squeezes your hand, afraid if not, you'll slip from his grip and become somebody else's apple. he certainly dislikes the thought.

"i want your pastries back, i love them as much as i love you. please let me correct such a terrible mistake."

---

"yes, hello. i've received the box, thank you, my love."

akaashi spins his office chair slightly, softly speaking to the phone stuck between his cheek and shoulder with a smile while unwrapping a huge warm box of freshly baked tarts.

"keiji, bad news, i'm out of powdered sugar after that batch." your voice echoed on output, he chuckles.

"are you free after work? we can visit the supermarket to purchase some. i'll drive, consider this a date with me, 'mkay?"

© 2024 dreamesamu. all rights reserved.

[pearlymel]

Random troupes — genshin men

꒰ including ꒱: Diluc, Neuvillette, Kaveh, and Wriothesley.

꒰ warnings ꒱: fem! Reader, suggestiveness, fluff, a bit of angst, slight spoiler with Neuvillette and his origin.

꒰ notes ꒱: this one is pretty long, hope you still enjoy it <3

✰ Diluc—fake dating.

“… Say that again?” It takes Diluc a minute before he could register what you were saying. God, he was sweating so much, despite his hands being gloved, he still tried wiping them along the fabric of his pants.

“I want you to play as my fake boyfriend, just for today!” You repeat the words that were ringing in his head earlier. He swallows thickly, fingers adjusting his collar. It suddenly feels harder to breathe for him, he’s had feelings for you for so long that he already gave up about the idea of confessing to you, he thinks you deserve way better than him.

But now he gets to taste the feeling of being your partner, even just for today, being your fake boyfriend just to put a show in front of your friend who’s inviting you on a double date. Bringing your own date, of course.

“Please?” Oh the way you ask so eagerly, hand clutching his arm firmly without even realizing has him melting. He would never say no to you.

You see the way Diluc looks down at your hand,slowly following the line from your arm to your face. You also see how hesitant he looks, like he’s about to reject your offer when he gently removed your arm and takes your hand in his instead.

You’re prepared for him to say no, so you sigh in defeat, “no pressure, though. I can always ask Kaeya inst—“

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll agree to be your fake boyfriend.” He cuts you off with a firm tone, and his expression falls at the mention of Kaeya’s name slipping from your mouth. But he composes himself anyway.

“In one condition,” he says gruffly, and you nod with keen eyes, “If I’m doing this, then you cannot see anyone until this charade is finished. You won’t be allowed to… flirt with anyone else, or look at another person’s way...” He trails off, his grip on your hands tightening around yours. He just now thinks that his condition might seem a little too much that he feels a tiny bead of sweat fall from the back of his neck.

But when he tries to change his words again, you laugh in response, “deal.”

His eyes widen slightly when you easily agree, “you’re not even going to question it?”

He’s suddenly in front of you, backing you into the wall, his hands on either sides of your head, boxing you in. You’re confused, backing up accordingly until your back hits the cold concrete of the wall. He leans closer, his gaze intense, “you’re just going to accept what i said without protesting?”

“Yeah?” You answer with a confused shrug, his eyes narrow at your answer. “You’re too trusting.” He sighs, face almost as red as his hair that’s falling on the sides of his cheeks that you badly want to tuck in behind his ear.

“If i was a more self-reserving person, I could keep you like this forever, you know? I could keep you to myself, only to myself.” 

“But you’re not that type of guy.” 

Diluc looks at you steadily for a moment before sighing deeply, his head dropping forward, and his forehead gently bumps against yours.

“No, I’m not that type of guy.” Slowly, he lifts his head back up, one of his hands trailing a path from your shoulder to the crook of your elbow. The pads of his fingers just barely brush against your skin, making you shiver.

You try to smile despite the slightest touch that were doing an effect on you, “you’re the sweetest, you know?” His face turns even redder at your words, this is just getting embarrassing.

His hand then starts moving towards your neck, using the pad of his thumb to massage slow, deliberate circles there, and to his surprise, you lean more into his touch. His other hand find it’s way to your waist, pausing for a moment before wrapping his arm fully around your waist.

“You trust me that much?” He mutters lowly as his cheek rests on top of your head, his breath stirring your hair. 

“I’ve known you long enough.” You hum back, “even now, when I could do anything to you?” He asks firmly, now moving his face to your neck, his nose just barely grazing along your skin, “I know you wouldn’t, Diluc.” Your breath is caught in your throat.

“oh, sweetheart…” without warning, he placed both of his hands on your hips, lifting you up easily and pinning you against the wall with his body. His chest is flush against yours, his knee suddenly wedging between your legs which made you gasp, “Diluc—!” You tried balancing yourself on him, shifting uncomfortably around his knee while gripping his his shoulders and strands of his hair.

Diluc groans at the feeling of your hands on his hair, his own hands now slowly sliding up your body, starting at your hips then slowly up under your shirt, his touch leaving tingles in it’s wake.

“Is… this some sort of practice for being my fake boyfriend.” You ask quietly, this time your cheeks were the one brightening as you look down at him, his face resting in your neck while you gently stroke his crimson hair through your fingers.

He hates the word ‘fake’ boyfriend. Because everything he does feels real, this is real. He would never be this affectionate around anyone else.

“You can call it whatever you want…” all he can is just accept this until you seriously notice all his efforts towards you.

✰ Neuvillette—Arranged marriage.

You almost miss the way the clouds were significantly getting darker as your fingertips brush against the hard cover of your book. The book in your hands no longer entertaining you, so you make the move to close it and put it back where it belonged inside your bag.

When you step out of the café you were spending your afternoon at, a droplet of rain falls down to your cheek, followed by another then another, until it started pouring endlessly.

You frown at the change of weather, but not because the rain ruined your mood, but because you knew exactly the reason it started, and really, it breaks your heart.

You take note of the people who started taking shelter, some cursing at the inconvenience of the weather.

But a kid’s voice is what catches your attention, “hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry!” He repeats as he runs over a puddle of water. It was your turn to leave, making your way to the Palais Mermonia.

You don’t bother to knock when your main concern was Neuvillette, your head peeking in his office to see him standing by the window, his face somber, as if he had a lot on his mind.

“Hydro dragon, hydro dragon,” your soft voice snaps him out of his trance, turning around to see you making your way towards him, and he’s so stiff in his place. “Don’t cry…” you continue, repeating the little kid’s words.

When you stand in front of him, you offer him the solace of an embrace, immediately rushing to take him in your arms. Albeit it being awkward at first, Neuvillette starts getting used to the feeling, and eventually sinks in your arms.

“Forgive me,” he whispered ever so softly against your shoulder, “You are too kind. I am not deserving of your care and affection.” He sighs, trying to control the emotions raging in him. “Yet, here you are, tending to me once again.”

“You don’t have to always apologize to me, your feelings are valid.”

“I simply wish to express how grateful i am for you. I am aware as to how taxing my emotional outbursts are to you. You bear with them, and that is more than I could ever ask for.” Every word that leaves him feels like poetry in your ears. If you could just tell him how everything is going to be okay, how you are always there for him.

Then he sighs, “sometimes I question why you even stay.”

"I..." You pause, thinking of the answer as well. You've spent enough time with Neuvillette to observe how he acts, and he rarely shows vulnerability to anyone. Rarely displays any affection.

But soon he started opening to you, that's all it took for you to open your arms for him. "I'd rather stay than leave you alone and upset."

Neuvillette lifts his head to look at you, “But what about yourself?”

He brushes away a strand of hair from your face—something that is usually more common the other way around. “You put so much energy into comforting me. In the process, you lose a little of yourself. Please, do not neglect yourself in order to accommodate me.”

"Ah, not to worry." You brush his concern off and instead offer him a gentle smile.

"You opening up to me... Warms my heart even more.” When he observes your smile, Neuvillette’s expression softens, his shoulders relaxing from the weight he’s been carrying.

“You make me feel more at ease with your kind words. Even my emotions dare not oppose you.”

He sighs again, “Perhaps I should be thanking you once again, no?”

Your smile brightens, "You're my husband. I'm only doing my role as your wife."

At the mention of that, Neuvillette seems almost shocked. He blushes slightly, his cheeks tinted pink. “I—of course. That is, you are correct.”

He clears his throat, recollecting himself. “I simply… sometimes forget that fact. Forgive me.”

Looking at your face, he pauses for a moment, as if in deep thought. “… i might melt if you keep looking at me like that, Neuvi.” 

“What are you talking about—”

Neuvillette pauses, before his eyes widen. “—Oh.”

His cheeks grow red now in embarrassment. “I did not mean to stare. My thoughts got the better of me, I suppose I was just—”

He looks away from you, avoiding eye contact. “Forgive me once again. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable by… ogling you like that.”

You just laugh it off, your soft laughter ringing in his ears and he chuckles deeply in return. 

It’s only at that moment that you notice, the sun is starting to make it appearance again.

✰ Kaveh—exes to lovers.

It's almost pitiful, really. The sight of him like a lost puppy on your front door, all drunk, not even able to stand straight, was making your heart clench. He seemed even more miserable than you were.

"Where's Alhaitham? Wasn't he supposed to pick you up?" You ask in concern, looking around if he was accompanied with someone else.

Kaveh rolled his eyes at the mention of Alhaitham.

“Ugh, don’t talk about him,” he scoffed. “He refused to pick me up. How ridiculous. He said that my personal business is none of his!” he huffed, Placing his hands on the wall and attempted to get up. However, to no one’s surprise, he was not successful. "Kaveh," you grumble under your breath, now offering your arms for him steady himself on.

Kaveh seemed pleasantly surprised that you even offered your help. He grabbed your arms and immediately pulled himself up, wrapping his arms around you.

“Why are you even helping the man who dumped you?” He muttered, his head resting against your shoulder.

As far as you knew, it was Alhaitham’s “brilliant” idea to make you and Kaveh separate. He thought it would be better for you two for some reason you will never understand.

"Because you're drunk and I don't want you hurting yourself."

Kaveh hummed.

“How kind..” he murmured.

He then closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly and resting his face onto your neck. He breathed in, and let out a tired sigh.

It was clear that he was completely exhausted.

"..." You're silent for a while, torn between wanting to push him away and leave him out in the cold streets of sumeru, or simply take him in your house for the night.

"Are you overworking again? Or your debt is piling up...?"

Kaveh froze at the mention of either of those things. He didn’t even need to answer you, his demeanor was more than enough. 

He inhaled sharply and held his breath for a moment. He slowly pulled away from you, glancing off to the side.

“Why do you even want to know?” He scowled bitterly. It was clear that even when he’s drunk, Kaveh still has his attitude.

"Because i care, unless you want me to throw you out." You reply back dryly.

“…That’s just so very cruel of you,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Kaveh has never been one to express his feelings very well. However, it was quite obvious that he did still have strong feelings for you.

“..I suppose I did overwork myself. With these stupid deadlines, I had to pull an all-nighter yesterday,” he answered bitterly. 

He leaned against one of your walls, trying his best to stare anywhere that wasn’t you.

"And you decided to drink your sorrows away again? How many times do i have to remind you not to do that..." you trail off, it now just seems like you're scolding him for his behaviour, not even realising the sharp tone coming from you. "Who would drink until they get drunk then show up to their ex's house at midnight?” You ask with your arms crossed.

Now he really didn’t have any answers for that.

There was clearly no reasonable way to argue such statement. Instead, he simply turned his head to the side and pouted like a child that was angry about something.

“Ugh, whatever,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

“Don’t read into this,” he said. However, his actions were anything but convincing.

"you were my boyfriend, for god's sake. And i still love you."

He had heard you say those words to him several times in the past. However, hearing you say them to him now just hit different. It was almost hurtful to hear to him.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair yet again, refusing to look directly at you. “Now you choose to say that?” He muttered.

"Kaveh, you know what i mean. Stop being stubborn." You smile, stepping closer to take him in your arms again. Embracing him tightly and giving him that comfort once again. He immediately tensed when he felt you take him in your arms again.

he sighed and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to, or simply didn’t know how to.

"Do you want me back?"

“Why on earth would you ask a question so absurd?” He sighed and pulled away from you.

“Even if I did want that, it wouldn’t be good for you. You’re better off without me.” and that pout just makes your want to roll your eyes so bad.

"Shut it, i only want you." You playfully hit his shoulder, dragging him inside your house now.

"We'll talk tomorrow when you're sober, alright?"

✰ Wriothesley—Bodyguard x employer.

"Pretty please?" You bat your eyelashes at him to try and persuade him for you to attend this party you were so eager to go to.

"no can do." when he refused again, your shoulders slump.

The thing is, Wriothesley never annoyed you, but when he did, such as restrict you from even taking a walk outside, it made you want to pull your hair out.

"But—"

"No buts, princess." He cut you off with a huff, slowly starting to get irritated by your stubbornness. But you were even more frustrated.

"fine. Just take a walk with me around the garden then."

"that... I can let you." He said lazily, letting out a loud sigh before taking off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before opening the door. "Don't stray from my sight, and be careful. I won't be held responsible if you fall and hit your head on the cobblestones."

You try hiding your grin at his words, looking around the dark sky while wearing his soft and warm jacket. He watched as your eyes moved around the dark surroundings. His expression softened slightly when he saw you, but he didn't want to show it.

"You're quite stubborn, you know that? I wonder how many bodyguards your parents went through before they hired me?" he commented, trying to hide his light smile as he carefully observed you.

"Just a few, why? you jealous?" You ask teasingly, knowing the question was too silly. But you hope he plays along.

Despite him being serious all the time about his job, he knew when to be playful.

"Jealous? Why would a simple security guard be jealous of your extravagant lifestyle?" he smirked, walking alongside you. His footsteps synchronized with yours, "It's not like your previous bodyguards were of any relevance to me. They were clearly incompetent, and it's a wonder they even allowed you to wander around freely."

"Atleast they all went easy on me."

His smirk widened as he heard your remark, and he leaned towards you slightly.

"Now you're talking like a spoiled brat." he said, "You should thank me for looking after you. I am much more attentive and meticulous than any of your previous bodyguards."

You weren't a spoiled brat, were you? "I like to be treated like a princess, thank you very much." You snap back, hands resting on your hips.

And his let soft laugh surprised you, turning your attention to him as he rolled his eyes.

"Treated like a princess?" he repeated, amused by your request. "I'm here for your safety, not to pamper you. Don't push your luck, your highness. We're just here to go for a walk. You're lucky I'm allowing it."

"Oh wow, thank you for the crumbs of freedom." You say dramatically, the back of your hand over your forehead.

Wriothesley couldn't help but chuckle as he observed your theatrical gesture. He leaned closer to you, his smirk returning.

"Don't get too carried away, Princess. There are boundaries, and they're there for your own protection." he said, shaking his head in mock annoyance.

You roll your eyes at his words, but you hope he misses the way your cheeks tint a shade lighter with the familiar pet name.

"The weather is getting colder." You clear your throat.

"Yes, it should start snowing soon. The season is changing." he observes, noticing the light breeze in the air. "you're shivering. We should head back inside. You might catch a cold."

He walks closer to you, gently placing a hand on your back to guide you back to the estate. "But i still wanted to walk more with you."

His lips formed a small smile as he heard your response.

"You're stubborn, you know that?" he muttered, the corners of his mouth curved slightly upward. "But we should head back. You need to warm up. Your health is more important than a simple walk."

"Will you atleast kiss me goodnight?" You huff as you walk upstairs to your rooms, your pout evident on your face, his eyes widen at your request, and he brushes it off with a breathy laugh.

"Nice try, Princess, but no."

You ignore his words, laying flat on your soft mattress and covering yourself like a burrito with your blanket before waving him off so he can leave your room.

"Stop being so dramatic. You'll see me again." he said, sighing when you turn your back on him.

His heavy boots echo against the marbled floor as he steps closer to see your eyes closed, his corner of his lips curling slightly.

You almost flinch when you feel soft lips press against your forehead, but you keep your eyes shut tightly when he leans closer to your ear this time.

"goodnight, my lady." He whispers before taking his leave.

[izadi234]

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English.

Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader

Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 (You're here)

Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 2

The moment you retreated to your room Alfred's gaze hardened as he looked at the kitchen door through which you had left.

With a sigh he returned to making breakfast, however, something couldn't stop going around in his head.

Why?

Why do you have to leave?

Why do you have to leave ME?

He doesn't blame you. Your "family" has done nothing but ignore you and push you aside on more than one occasion since you arrived at Wayne Manor. And if it weren't for him, Bruce wouldn't have remembered to pay for your needs and education.

No. He could never blame you for your decision, but he can blame Bruce and your brothers. He had never felt such anger for them, not even when Martha and Thomas died at the hands of that cruel man. But that never had a solution, but this did. His family has a solution and he was going to fix it for you and for you. To always have his ray of sunshine at his side.

He wasn't going to lose you without having fought a war.

But for now, he had to stay calm. He sighed once more and finally relaxed as he served breakfast on the plates. He has to talk to Duje after you told him about your decision.

He had to think with a cool head. As he had told Bruce many years ago: "Fear doesn't make you think clearly" and not only was he scared of his little ones going out into the world alone, he also had anger built up. And he was going to use those two feelings to his advantage.

It was not for nothing that he was a very feared soldier during the war.

You were in your room as usual texting with a friend when Duke knocked on your bedroom door before coming in.

"Hey (name)!" said Duke happily who sat on your bed while you sat at your desk

"Oh hey Duke!" you greeted him with a smile anyway "How was school today?"

"A little boring, but at least it's Friday now" he chuckled

"And you? How was your day?"

It's now or never.

You sighed and got up from your spot to sit next to him on your bed.

"I have something to tell you Duke…" you put a hand on his shoulder

"And what is it?" He asked worriedly seeing your seriousness "Don't tell me it's something bad"

"No, it's nothing bad. At least I don't consider it bad" you started to say "But, Duke, I've decided to move out of the mansion"

"…What?…" he said in a quiet tone of voice surprised by your words

No, it can't be…

"I know it's sudden, but I can't stand this place" you sighed "I want- No, I need to start over without being in the shadow of others"

You turned to look at him and caressed his cheek.

"But this doesn't mean we won't see each other again. We'll be able to talk and keep in touch" you offered him a smile

Without saying anything, Duke hugged you and nestled his head in the crook of your neck. You put a hand on his neck and caressed him.

"Just… Don't forget about me…" he said after a few minutes of silence.

He pulled away from you and wiped away some tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

"I could never do that, brother," you wiped one of his eyes with your thumb.

After that emotional conversation, you and Duke spent the afternoon in your room talking and watching movies on your laptop. However, Duke's mind was still on that conversation.

There was no chance that you would leave him. He had to find a way to prevent you from leaving his side.

The week you moved went by so fast that when you realized it, you were already taking the last box with your belongings out of the mansion.

You looked back at that mansion one last time and felt like that little kid again who arrived with fear and excitement to what he would call home for years. But soon your face darkened as you remembered the suffering you had experienced there. Without thinking twice, you turned around and got on your motorcycle, but not before securing your last box. You started the bike and left Wayne Manor.

You hadn't said goodbye to Alfred nor Duke but you left a letter on both of their beds wishing each of them the best, thanking them for everything and giving them the phone number of your second cell phone in case they needed something or just wanted to check on you. However, you didn't leave anything else, not even an address. You wanted to completely erase the Waynes from your life, you wanted to erase the fact that you were a Wayne too. You wanted to forget them so much that you turned off the cameras in the mansion for a period of time so you could take out your things in peace, so that no one would see the license plates of your motorcycle that you had been keeping at a friend's house and whose motorcycle was registered.

If nothing else, you had developed the same paranoia as Bruce and decided to take every measure to avoid being located. You even thought about going to live in Metropolis or Star City but the rent and sale of apartments there were much more expensive than in Gotham. Maybe when you earn more money once you finish college.

But for now focus on your present.

Before it is taken away from you.

When you got to your apartment you let out a sigh that you didn't know you were holding. You looked around, there were some pieces of furniture that came with the apartment like a leather armchair that was a little worn but looked pretty new, a wooden bookcase, several coffee tables, some pots and kitchen stuff. The only thing you had to buy was your bed but your best friend did you the favor of giving you a headboard for your bed as a gift of independence and you only bought a mattress. It wasn't as comfortable as the one you had in the mansion but at least you had things you could consider yours. NOT thanks to Wayne, but thanks to your efforts.

You put the box on the kitchen counter and before going to your room you saw several boxes.

Damn... You hadn't thought about how lazy you were going to be when you had to unpack.

That same day you left, Alfred had returned from going grocery shopping. At that time of the morning you and he used to spend the morning together, while you were in your online classes, he did the housework along with the food. Between the breaks you had between classes you used to go see what he was doing in the kitchen and you were his personal taster.

Now that you were on vacation, you spent more time with him because Bruce, Tim and sometimes Damian went to Wayne Enterprises, Dick and Jason weren't usually at the mansion and Duke, Cass and Stephanie were training in the Batcave or with their friends. For that same reason Alfred was alarmed when he called your name and you didn't answer.

He quickly went up to your room only to find it completely empty. His heart raced and he started to sweat lightly.

You couldn't have left so quickly, right?

He went down again and checked all the rooms in the big mansion and found nothing. Only his own room was missing. As he entered he could see an envelope of your favorite color on his pillow. He approached and read it.

In the letter you apologized for not saying goodbye to him in person but if you did you were more than sure that you wouldn't be able to leave. You also left him a private cell phone number where he could call you and you wished him all the best.

It had been a long time since Alfred felt the need to cry but without realizing it he had already shed a few tears. He couldn't believe that his little one was already gone.

After having shed a few tears, he quickly wiped his eyes and composed himself. No, he couldn't cry because you were going to return. He was sure of that.

However, he would let you enjoy your independence a little before implementing his plan for you to return home to your family. With him.

But first he'll have to talk with Duke.

Helloooo! I hope you liked the second chapter! If you did leave a heart and i'll see you in the next one. I kind of think this chapter is kind of bland but the story is just begining. This are the first impressions of you leaving the Manor but soon enough the rest of the family will appear.

Thanks you for reading!

-Izadi <3

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@eyeless-kun

[iiping]

kaveh snapping at alhaitham for buying another ugly wood carving… except he forgot it was his birthday 👀

read my short fic on twitter here or see more below! 🫶

—

“This looks absolutely nothing like me!” Kaveh snaps at the rough-out Aranara carving that suddenly shows up one morning, looking so blonde and angry.

Alhaitham comes out of his room at this moment and walks over to their common shelf where the architect stands.

Kaveh has a meeting with a particularly frustrating client today and he’s feeling so anxious that he cannot help but snaps at Alhaitham too, “How many times do I have to tell you not to bring ugly wood carvings into our home!?”

Alhaitham looks at Kaveh, his lips tightens. Something unfathomable flashes across his eyes and disappears just as suddenly.

“Do whatever you want with it then,” Alhaitham says finally after an awkward silence. Then he grabs his key from the shelf and turns his back to walk towards the front door without saying another word.

Kaveh looks at him leaving the house in puzzlement. It is not a rare occasion to see the Scribe not bothering to argue with him but Alhaitham never walks away after saying only one sentence before. He looks as if he’s angry or even…pouting? Kaveh is not sure if that word can describe Alhaitham.

Maybe Kaveh did something wrong? He gasps at the thought.

Is it because the smell of the cream soup he made yesterday was too strong? Or maybe it was the fact that the house is now so messy because he’s in the middle of tidying up things? Or maybe he moved or touched some books he wasn’t supposed to?

Kaveh ends up thinking for the whole day. He even spaces out during the client’s meeting and almost drops the model when he tries to present his plan.

He thinks and thinks but nothing comes to his mind. They have been on unusually pretty good terms lately, so he cannot think of something recent that might have made Alhaitham upset.

Kaveh is so deep in thought he almost bumps into Collei on the way home.

“Ah! Sorry!” Kaveh exclaims then realizes who it is, “Collei! I didn’t know you were in town today!”

Somehow, the trainee Forest Ranger looks shocked to see him. She quickly picks up something that fell to the ground when they bumped into each other earlier. Kaveh catches a glimpse of a small green box with yellow ribbon before Collei swiftly hides it behind her back.

“It’s so good to see you! Wanna grab something to eat?” Kaveh asks, ignoring her suspicious behavior. He’s not ready to go home just yet, not when he still hasn’t figured out what he did wrong.

“Uh, sorry I have somewhere to be today,” Collei replies nervously, avoiding to meeting his eyes, “If you will excuse me, I really need to get going.”

Then she takes off before he can say another word.

Kaveh ruffles his hair in confusion. What is going on today?

After wandering around aimlessly for a while, he decides that he has no other place to go except the good old Lambad’s Tavern.

He sits down at a table and orders a drink even though it’s merely 5PM.

“Hey, Kaveh!” Lambad shouts his name from behind the counter, “That one’s on the house! Happy Birthday!”

Oh. Shit.

A realization strikes him like a bolt of lightning.

“How could I forget!” he cries, standing up abruptly, “It is my birthday!”

He tells Lambad that he’ll take a raincheck on that glass of wine before leaving the tavern. Kaveh rushes home as fast as he can and finds Alhaitham standing in front of the shelf with the Aranara carving on one hand and a bag on another.

Alhaitham raises his eyebrows when he sees Kaveh practically flying from the front door.

“No, wait—-“ Kaveh tries to catch his breath, “D-don’t throw that away!”

“Oh?” Alhaitham puts down the Aranara and turns to face the architect. “Seems like you finally remember something.”

“Sorry for what I said this morning,” Kaveh blurts out, “I know it sounds like an excuse but that client’s project kept me frustrated all night and I shouldn’t have taken it on you.”

Alhaitham looks at him silently.

“Alright, alright,” Kaveh puts two hands in the air, “I apologize for calling it ugly.”

The Scribe lets out a chuckle right this second. It is clear that he does not intend put up any fights with Kaveh on his birthday.

Alhaitham hands him the Aranara in question and asks, “Will you also stop calling my other wood carvings ugly?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Kaveh replies with a beaming smile. His eyes light up as he takes the wooden figure in his hands.

Alhaitham gives him birthday presents every year but they are usually books or drafting tools. This is the first time Kaveh has received something custom-made. Well, from anyone, really.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me this morning,” he mumbles, feeling the rough wood under his fingers. “Sure, it looks a bit cruder than that one in your bedroom which I kind of like, but the more you look at it, the mor—- Hey!”

“I changed my mind,” Alhaitham announces with a straight face, the Aranara is now back to his hand. “I’m taking it back.”

Kaveh blinks.

“What did you just say!?” he raises his voice.

“I don’t see any reasons why it should be in the possession of someone who doesn’t appreciate it,” he replies simply while putting the wooden figure in the bag, then starts to walk to the entrance hall.

“How do you know I don’t appreciate it!?” Kaveh follows him, trying so hard not to yell at his back, “This is ridiculous! You just gave it to me literally a second ago!”

That does not make Alhaitham slow down one bit. In the heat of the moment, Kaveh charges at him without thinking.

Next thing he knows, they are both on the floor with Alhaitham being beneath him. He quickly snatches the bag from the Scribe’s hand and sits up.

“Ha!” Kaveh exclaims, raising it in the air in victory. “You cannot walk away from me this time! Don’t you know that it’s rude to take back what you have given!?”

When there isn’t any response, Kaveh glances down, only to see that Alhaitham is covering his face laughing.

Kaveh looks at this scene in disbelief.

“Were you just teasing me!?” he asks with a high-pitched voice, “Oh my god, who are you? What have you done to my Alhaitham?”

“I couldn’t help,” he is still laughing, “You should’ve seen your face.”

It’s extremely rare for Kaveh to see a silly side of Alhaitham, let alone seeing him laughing like this. Kaveh stares dazedly at him, completely forgetting why he was mad in the first place.

“You can have the Aranara,” Alhaitham says with a smile, “Will you get off me now? Although I don’t really mind—-”

Kaveh interrupts this sentence with a cough, just realizing what a dangerous position they are in. He shifts to move out of the way, but at this moment, a small piece of paper falls of the bag and lands on Alhaitham’s chest.

The Scribe’s eyes widen as he moves to reach for it, but Kaveh is quicker.

Seeing what’s on there, he is speechless.

Alhaitham covers his face again, but his ears are turning visibly red. The worse thing is, Kaveh can also feel his face burning too.

“You carved this,” he asks softly, “for me?”

After a while, Alhaitham admits with a sigh, “Yes.”

Kaveh is dumbfounded. He assumed that it was merely a commission. Never has he ever thought Alhaitham would go that far to do something like this for him.

“That’s why you’ve been coming home late for the past week!” Kaveh just remembers how unusual it was when he said that he needed to work overtime.

“You knowing this wasn’t part of the plan, I was too careless.” he says flatly and decides to pull himself up, unintentionally getting closer to Kaveh. “Now it’s good time for you to forget you have seen that workshop receipt.”

“Nuh-uh,” Kaveh pokes his chest, “This Aranara is now worth a million mora to me.”

“You have just burdened yourself with a new enormous debt then” Alhaitham teases.

“Hey!”

“I think wood craving has grown on me.” Alhaitham smiles, “So I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with these ugly figurines for now.”

“Come on, they are not that ugly,” Kaveh chuckles, “But we do need to set up a proper corner for them so they don’t disrupt the current aesthetic.”

The Scribe can’t help but roll his eyes at this comment.

“Seriously though, thank you” Kaveh softly touches his shoulder and looks directly into his eyes, “It’s the first time someone did something so special for me. I will always treasure it.”

The Scribe stares back at him and without a warning, Alhaitham pulls him into his arms and whispers to his hair, “Happy Birthday, Kaveh.”

After that, Collei, along with Cyno and Tighnari, burst open their front door right when they are still hugging in the hallway. Kaveh’s face turns as red as a tomato as Alhaitham helps him up on his feet.

The night cannot be more perfect. The house is filled with the smell of good food, laughers and joy. His most favorite dishes are laid out on the table and the gifts are waiting for him to open. Wine never tastes better and even Cyno’s jokes are funnier than usual.

Kaveh watches as everyone starts to eat and cheerfully discuss about what games they are going to play tonight. His heart aches a bit thinking of how much he does not want to ever lose this; his friends, his happiness, his home.

And when his eyes accidentally meet with Alhaitham’s, he cannot help but wonder, would things turn out differently if he hadn’t met the Scribe at the tavern that night where he had taken Kaveh in?

He tries harder now to stay happy, to actually listen to some of Alhaitham’s advice, the sensible ones at least.

“Don’t burden yourself with something unnecessary from the past and from the future”, he would say.

So instead of dwelling on the past regrets and unknown future, Kaveh thinks he is ready now to find comfort in the present happiness.

(END)

[leossmoonn]

call out my name | mike schmidt

summary - mike gets jealous after seeing you so friendly with a co-worker

includes / warnings - reader is fem. takes place after he worked at freddy’s. unprotected sex, overstimulation if you squint, fingering.

————

18+ under the cut

mike’s about to shit his heart out as he looks in the window of the car dealership, seeing you and your co-worker standing at the reception desk. his blood starts boil as your co-worker makes you laugh. his hand keeps brushing against yours as he shows you whatever interesting video is on his phone. mike swears your co-worker steps closer to you so now your shoulders are touching. you don’t seem to notice, though.

mike runs a hand through his hair and makes sure the collar of his shirt is tucked. he opens the door, the bell making you raise your head. a bright smile encompasses your face and you stand up straighter, smoothing out any wrinkles in your shirt.

“you here to buy a car?” you tease your boyfriend. “i wish,” mike chuckles softly. his smile immediately drops when your co-worker speaks up.

“hey, mike.” the way he says mike’s name makes his stomach churn. “what’s up, drew?” mike’s smile is polite and tight as he glances at him.

“nothing much. is work slow for you, too?” drew asks. “no, i’m on my lunch break,” mike says. he fights the urge to roll his eyes. drew knows why he comes here.

“must keep you on a long leash with you coming all the way here,” drew says. “what do you do for work again? oh, yeah, mall security?”

mike’s hands ball into fists and he clenches his jaw. he tries to keep his reactions minimal, knowing drew wants to get a reaction out of him.

“actually,” you interject, “mike got a job waiting tables and he just got promoted to manager a week ago.”

“wow,” drew gasps. “how exciting. you must be so proud of yourself.”

mike glares at drew, trying to breathe slowly as to calm himself. you shuffle away from drew, not catching the small disappointment in his eyes.

“let’s go to the break room, yeah?” you ask. mike nods and follows you, part of him relaxing as your hand grabs his tricep. he sits down and waits for you to grab your lunch from the fridge.

“how come you didn’t bring anything?” you frown. “not that hungry,” he shrugs. truthfully, he can’t work up an appetite on the days he knows drew works with you. he‘s tried to eat in the past, knowing how you worry about him taking care of himself. but if he tries to eat, the food would end up wasted, and he can’t afford that.

“do you want half of my sandwhich?” you ask. “no, i’m okay,” he shakes his head.

“what about some pieces of fruit?” you press. “you go ahead and eat all your food,” mike chuckles. you hum in dissatisfaction. you russle through your lunch box, finding a week-old granola bar. “here,” you hand it to him. mike’s about to deny you again, but the desperation in your eyes makes him fold. he takes it and thanks you, taking small bites and chewing slowly.

mike’s worries dissipate the more time he spends with you. his dread is replaced with joy as you laugh at his weak jokes. warmth encapsulates his heart as you scoot your chair closer to him so your knees are touching. the kiss you press on his cheek makes him grin from ear-to-ear.

he saddens when he realizes he has to go back to work. you walk him out to his car, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

“i’ll talk to drew about his rudeness,” you mention. mike’s ears perk up in surprise. “oh…you don’t have. i don’t think he was being rude. he’s just —”

“mike,” you raise your brows. he sighs, “thank you.” you smile and nod, “of course. drive safe to work. i’ll see you tonight.”

he nods and kisses you again, having to peel himself away from you to leave.

a few days later, mike has to drop you off at work.

“can i use the bathroom real quick?” mike asks as you start to get out of the car. “of course,” you answer.

you two walk in together and you go to the break room to put all your things away. mike goes and finds you to say goodbye after he uses the restroom. he finds you in the break room with no one other than drew. you’re leaning against the counter, waiting for your coffee to brew. drew is close to you again — too close. his hand is on the counter right by your waist. he’s looking down at you, eyes flickering from your hips to your breasts and neck.

mike clears his throat and both of you turn to him. you walk over, giving him a long and warm hug.

“thank you for taking me to work,” you say. “no problem. do you need me to pick up you?” he asks.

“no, rachel can take me,” you say. “you just worry about picking abby up from school.”

his lips upturn and he nods. you press a kiss to his cheekbone and he begins to leave, but drew stops him.

“hey, mike. sorry about what i said the other day,” drew apologizes, but he doesn’t look sorry. mike nods at him, smiling awkwardly. “it’s fine. thanks.”

mike awaits your arrival at his home, making dinner for the two of my you. abby wanted to hang out at a friends house, so he dropped her off there, leaving the house empty for the two of you for a while.

he perks up as he hears your voice from outside. his heart races in excitement and he goes to the front door to greet you, but his feet stay glued to the floor as he sees drew, not rachel, get out of the car. he’s handing your purse and lunchbox, which mike knows you’re perfectly capable of retrieving yourself. you smile at drew and mike knows enough about you to know it’s a polite smile. it’s when you and drew hug that mike starts to feel nauseous. you stand a little far away from drew for it to be a normal hug, but drew pulls your closer and you don’t pull away. mike watches as drew’s hand slides down your back, just above your ass. mike’s hand that’s on the doorknob turns white. you pull away after a few seconds too long and drew moves to say something in your ear that makes you giggle. mike’s about to go out there and punch drew in the face, but you’re already making your way to the house.

mike scurries away from the door and back to the kitchen. he keeps stirring the pot of pasta, keeping his head down as you unlock the door and enter.

“hey, babe,” you greet him with a smile. you hang your coat on the rack besides the door, placing your purse and keys on the coffee table. you kick off your shoes and place them by mike’s.

“how was your day?” you ask as you walk over to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water.

“fine,” mike answers through gritted teeth. “you okay?” your brows furrow in worry. you place a hand between is shoulder blades, which he shrugs off. “yeah. just tired,” he mumbles.

“okay,” you say unconvinced. you don’t push. mike’s a grown man and you’ve been together long enough for him to know that if he has a problem, he needs to speak up and ask for help. “where’s abby?” you ask.

“at a friend’s.”

“looks like we get the house to ourselves.”

your tone is teasing and when he looks at you, you have a mysterious glimmer in your eyes. he can’t muster up an ounce of care. he just hums in response.

“i’m going to go change into pjs,” you say, your warm lips settling on his skin. he just nods and you walk away, mind racing with what he could be so upset about.

dinner is worse. you two don’t talk at all. all your attempts fail. even when one of you are tired, you both make an effort.

“thank you for making dinner. i’m sorry i’m not that hungry,” you say.

“it’s fine,” he says, holding his head down and staring into his plate of alfredo.

“drew shared his chick-fil-a with me, so i guess i’m still full from that.”

something inside mike snaps. he drops his silverware with a clang, roughly getting out of his chair. it scrapes against the hardwood and he grabs his plate, shoving all the food down the trashcan and practically throwing the plate into the sink. he stomps away, going into his room. your stunned at his behavior, slowly getting up and walking over to his room.

“what the hell was that?” you ask. “nothing,” he grumbles. he’s taking off his sweatshirt, feeling too warm from becoming worked up.

“mike, talk to me. you’ve been acting weird ever since i got home. is something wrong? did abby get in trouble at school or say something?” you ask.

“i thought rachel was going to take you home.” his eyes stare daggers into yours. your throat dries and your heart starts to race. you don’t know why you suddenly feel so nervous. you weren’t hiding anything, but mike’s expression made it seem like you had just committed a crime.

“i… yeah. she was,” you say, your voice sounding softer with each word. “then why did drew take you home?” mike asks.

“rachel had to pick up her son from school. he got sick.”

“oh, how convenient.”

you now shoot him a glare. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“stop acting so innocent! we both know he’s in love with you.”

“that’s ridiculous, mike.”

“oh, is it? because from the moment you started working there, he’s been glued to your side. i mean, the first time i met him, he was pressed up against you!”

“he was just showing me how the system worked!”

“i’m sure that’s all he was doing,” mike says with a sour smile. “the other day, he was acting like an asshole.”

“i told him to apologize to you and he did, didn’t he?”

“yeah, because he wants to be on your good side.”

“mike, c’mon,” you try to settle the argument. you take a step towards him but he furthers the distance between you two.

“and today? buying you food and driving you home,” mike recants. “he’s a nice guy, mike. he’s bought food for the whole team before!” you exclaim, feeling exasperated.

“yeah, i bet he hugs everybody like how he hugged you, too. pressed all up against you with hand practically on your ass. and then he whispers something in your ear that makes you laugh so loud. he must be a real comedian since you’re always giggling when you’re with him.”

your frustration turns to worry as mike begins to talk more to himself than you. you have to admit, you’ve always known of drew’s crush on you. but he had never made a real move on you or made you uncomfortable. there was no reason to report him or confront him about it, especially since he knows you’re with mike. you always try to make your boundaries clear with everyone, but perhaps you missed a few of the signs with drew.

“tell me, what did he say to you?” mike asks, looking into your eyes.

“i-i don’t remember,” you admit honestly.

“i bet he was saying something about me, right? maybe he was telling you to go back to his place instead. i wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to say yes.”

you’re taken aback by his assumptions of you. “is that what you really think of me, mike? you think i would leave you for some guy i’ve known for a couple months? for a guy who is only a co-worker to me?”

“i don’t know,” he shrugs. “you seem pretty smitten with him. he probably thinks you want to fuck him.”

you grit your teeth, feeling your heart sink as you finally hear what mike seems to think of you. “you’re an idiot, mike.” you walk out of his room, going to grab your purse and keys. he’s quick to follow you.

“you’re leaving now?” he scoffs. “i bet i can guess who you’re going to call to pick up you.”

“get over yourself, mike!” you yell. you head towards the door but he grabs your wrist, whipping you around to face him. you’re so close, you almost collide with his chest. his chest heaves up and down, his face flushed. “i think you should get over yourself,” he seethes. “you can’t seem to tell me that you don’t love him.”

“i don’t love him. i love you!” you shout, watching his face soften as your words register. “i didn’t want to tell you like this, but… i think you need to hear it.” your voice is quiet, almost a whisper now.

he doesn’t say anything. you can’t read his expression. you know mike likes to pull away from people. you know he’s afraid of losing everyone he loves. you know it’s hard for him to be open with you and this blow up tonight is a testament to that. you just hope he doesn’t try to push you away even more.

“mike? say something, please. if you don’t love me either then just say that, but it’s important you know that i do love —”

he smashes his lips against yours. your body melts against his out of instinct. you drop your purse and keys, wrapping your arms around his neck and weaving your fingers through his hair. his kisses are bruising, like he wants you to feel it tomorrow. his hands grasp at your sides, pulling you in closer, needing to feel every inch of you.

he begins to walk backwards to the couch, one of his hands leaving your body to feel out the couch. he sits down, grabbing the small of your back and yanking you onto his lap. your lips part for a small gasp of air and he slips his tongue in. your teeth clash as your tongue does a tango with his. your hands cup the back of his neck where his spine begins, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck.

he moans into your mouth, the sound vibrating inside you. his hands untucking your shirt and snaking up your back. he unclasps your bra and he wastes no time with getting his hands on your tits. even with your bra still hanging off your arms, his hand slithers under the wire.

you can feel his hard on under you. you can’t help but grind, your clit catching onto your underwear. your head drops and you moan into his ear, making him shudder underneath you. your hands move down to his t-shirt, dragging it up his body. he has to pause from massaging your breasts, but takes the opportunity to take your shirt and bra off.

his lips attach to your nipple, his tongue swirling and teeth oh-so-gently nibbling. your hands run down his chest, the soft hairs of his chest tickling your fingertips. your fingers stop at his belt and the ache between your thighs grows. you whine in need, starting to unbuckle his pants. once you do so, you quickly stand up and strip, swinging your leg back over mike’s waist once he takes his pants off.

you kiss him once more, sucking on his lip in between breaths. one of his hands settle on the junction between your hip and thigh, the other finding your cunt. you moan into his mouth as two fingers slip inside of you. he curves his fingers inside of you, brushing up against that sweet spot. your pussy gushes around his fingers with each movement and he can feel your juices slide down his hand at this angle. his thumb reaches up and circles over your throbbing clit. you can’t help but fall into him, his chin meeting your shoulder.

“mike,” you whimper. “feels good, huh?” he breathes out, his chest heaving up and down.

“mmhm,” you nod, screwing your eyes shut and biting your lip.

“he can’t make you this wet, can he?” mike whispers into your ear. he begins to kiss below your ear, sucking harshly. your stomach flips at his words and you shake your head, the only things coming out of your mouth are moans and whimpers.

“use your words, baby.” his voice is low and deep. his mouth is pressing searing hot kissing on your skin, sending a thrill up your spine.

“nu-uh,” is all you manage to say. his fingers pump faster, applying just the right pressure to get you off.

“shit, mike,” you gasp, your orgasm bubbling up in your lower stomach. you start to ride his fingers, gathering more friction around your clit. your fingertips dig into the flesh of his bicep as you come.

“mike,” you slur as he doesn’t stop rubbing your clit. “too much, too much!” you exclaim in a moan. mike slows his thumb’s movements, peering up at your face. your eyes are half-lidded and your lip is swollen from biting it so hard.

he gives you a few moments before taking you by the hips and flipping you over. his cock throbs at the sight of your legs spread for him. he knows how wet you were on his fingers. he can’t wait a second longer.

you grab onto his shoulders as he pushes into you. you both groan at the initial feeling. he fits you just like a glove. your pussy envelopes in warm and wetness, making it easy for him to just slide in.

he doesn’t waste any time with fucking you. he’s balls deep inside of you, marveling in the way your pussy hugs him. your walls clench around him with each thrust, the sounds of your juices gushing around his cock making you both lightheaded.

“you like being fucked like this, hm?” mike pants. “yes,” you breathe out. you’re starting to hyperventilate as his thrust become faster. his hips snap with yours, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin filling the room.

“tell me, can he fuck you like this?” he asks, his nose pressed against your cheek.

“no, mike. never.”

one of his hands grip the couch arm, about ready to pull out the stuffing. his other hand is digging into your side, surely to cause some bruising in the next few hours. your hands hook under his arms and you pull him closer to you as you’re about to come.

“fuck, baby,” he groans. “i-i love you, too. i think i’m gonna come, fuck.”

you can’t tell who’s breathing is who’s or who says what curse words, but you can feel him unload inside of you. warmth fills your insides as the knot in your tummy unravels. you buck your hips up to his in one last attempt to feel any sort of friction and then your body collapses on the couch, feeling weak and numb.

mike pulls out of you slowly, a string of his semen connecting from your pussy to his tip. he gets up and pulls on his boxers, walking to the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth. you pull yourself up against the pillows, resting one leg off of the couch. mike sits between your legs, wiping up his oozing cream. he leans down and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. he kisses a trail all the way up to your lips.

he kisses you sweetly this time around. his hands cup your face, cradling you close you him. he pulls away, sitting back with a smile as he looks at your neck.

“you’re gonna have to cover that up,” he says. you touch your skin, feeling how raw it is. you shrug and get up, putting your underwear back on. “i don’t think i will.”

mike raises his brows. “what if your co-workers see? what if drew comments on it?”

you give mike a coy smile. “i’ll tell him who gave it to me, then.”