#and then realizing he's just going to touch the box. so he has to do something too
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
141 when a younger recruit has a very obvious crush on you (not dating yet)
Oh, anon. I had fun with this one. Simply because it's a "we aren't dating yet so why are you jealous" scenario just waiting to happen. That's where my mind went with this. The boys have zero claim on you but they are possessive and territorial as fuck. omg. Do you hear that? It's me standing outside screaming because I need to get a fucking grip. Anyway! Enjoy!
Presented in four double drabbles.
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Task Force 141 x Reader (gn!reader except on Simon's)
Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): hidden feelings, jealousy, possessive behavior, intimidation, crushes, suggestive themes, swearing
Word Count: 800
ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
John Price
John is the superior here. He's the one in charge.
Yet he feels completely out of control.
This isn't happening. This isn't fucking happening. He has spent monthsâmonths gently putting himself before you. Jealousy and possession are strange to him. They donât come easy. And yet here they are, eating him from the inside out, chewing away at his resolve.
Anger and irritation are starting to seep in.
A new recruit with an obvious crush shouldn't make him this irate. There isn't any competition, but John can't help himself. All he sees is this wanker making eyes at you, speaking softly and with such tenderness that it's driving John up the fucking wall.
Which is insane. Stupid. You do not belong to him. The two of you are not datingânot anythingâbut somehow that doesn't matter.
His feet are moving before he even realizes it. The recruit turns in John's direction and instantly pales.
Good. Fucking good.
You turn too, brow furrowed.
"Captain?" asks the recruit, straightening his spine.
John shoves himself between, staring the recruit down, all venom. "You're wanted elsewhere."
"Yâyes. Sir."
The recruit salutes and takes off, the primal jealousy purring softly with contentment.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
Kyle is going to grind his teeth into dust if he doesnât unclench his jaw.
What the fuck is this bloke doing over on this side of the complex anyway? Heâs a goddamn new recruit. Freshly arrived and still green.
Do you even realize heâs flirting? Kyle can tell just be the way he stands far too close, or the subtle way he touches your arm. His smile is stupidly large. The man is completely struck by you. You appear completely oblivious, having a conversation with him like thereâs nothing amiss.
Nope. Kyle is pissed. Furious. Which is fucking ridiculous. The two of you are not a couple, even though Kyle wishes otherwise.
âYou look right scunnered.â Soap appears at Kyleâs shoulder. âWhatâs wrong?â
âThat,â he growls.
Soap frowns, following Kyleâs line of sight. Soapâs frown turns to a knowing smirk. He turns it on Kyle with a mischievous glint. âWant Ghost to scare the shit out of him?â
The rest of the team knows how Kyle feels about you even if they donât comment on it.
âThat would be great,â says Kyle flatly.
Soap lightly pats Kyleâs shoulder. Turning around, he cups his hands around his mouth. âHey, Lt!â
John "Soap" MacTavish
"I could rig an explosive. Put it under his bunk. Thatâd be fucking brilliant,â murmurs Johnny.
"We're looking to scare him. Not to maim everyone in his immediate radius,â replies Kyle.
"What about a firework? Poppers? Oh! A stink bomb?"
"Thatâs fucking childish, Johnny,â mutters Simon.
Johnny isn't jealous. Really, he's not.
He's just...protective. That's what he tells himself anyway.
Kyle, Johnny, and Simon observe you from across the communal gym. A new recruit from the latest batch is hanging on the ropes of the boxing ring. His stance is casual, skin glistening with sweat as he gives you his best smile while he chats you up.
The lad is putting it on thick, and Johnny is having none of it.
You are not Johnnyâs spouse. You are not dating. You are not hisâŠanything.
But that hardly matters.
Because Johnny has stolen plenty of kisses from you. Heâs put his hands on your body. Heâs been far too close for the comfort of a coworker or friend. In that, there is a claim. Johnny can draw the line somewhere.
He is so close to making you his.
No one is getting in his way. Not even a charming new recruit.
Simon "Ghost" Riley (Female Reader)
"Don't do it, Simon. It's not worth it."
Johnny's words don't satiate the anger. Rage is boiling beneath Simon's skin. It is white hotâfierce. All of this emotion and yet Simon has no claim over you.
It still hurts. Still aches.
The two of you are not togetherânot dating. But it's Simon's name you scream with pleasure, and that counts for fucking something.
His fists clench, muscles coiled with wrought tension. Johnny places his hands on Simon's shoulders and shoves him back down in his seat. If Simon werenât ready to flay his newest target alive, Johnny wouldnât be so bold.
"Remove. Your. Hands," growls Simon, slowly.
Kyle grimaces, his gaze darting between Simon and Johnny. He looks ready to jump in if Johnny needs him.
"I'm doing this for you, Lt,â murmurs Johnny, even as his hands keep the pressure.
"She's mine."
"We know,â reply Johnny and Kyle in unison.
One of the new recruits is putting on his best performance, following you around like a lovesick puppy. Johnny is right. Simon can't go over there and knock the man to the ground, no matter how much he wants to.
"Take a deep breath, Lt."
"I'm trying."
taglist:
@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath
@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus
@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41
@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat
@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim
@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307
@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic
@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld
@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff
@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen
#task force 141 x reader#task force 141 x you#task force 141 fic#task force 141#simon riley#john price#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#ghost call of duty#price call of duty#gaz call of duty#soap call of duty#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#captain john price x you#john price x you#soap mactavish#john soap mactavish x you#soap mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x you#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon ghost riley#simon riley fanfic#simon ghost riley fanfic#john price cod
781 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could you do the Diamond sisters spilling Caterâs embarrassing childhood stories to his friends (either the other Heartslabyuls or the Pop Music Club)? I like to imagine the first thing they would do is wreak havoc on Caterâs carefully crafted persona, intentional or not.
Decided to combine these all and do headcanons instead of an interaction due to the high number of characters (Heartslabyul + Lilia and Kalim, Cater's clubmates)!
Please note that we don't know exactly how old Cater's sisters are, but here I'm headcanoning them as being only a few years older than Cater.
Curiouser and Curiouser...
Oh, the Diamond sisters LOVE Riddle. They hang all over him and squeal about how cute he is, much to his dismay. Heâs not used to this much⊠open affection. It makes him feel weird!
He clears his throat several times and tries to remind them that he is not a boy, he is a young man, and he would appreciate it if they treated him as such. Itâs a useless effort anywayâhis words fall on deaf ears.
The Diamond sisters love it even more when he gets all red in the face. âAw, heâs like a little strawberry,â they gush, not realizing that Riddle is this close to snapping and flying into a rage-filled frenzy. (His dorm members marvel at him actually exercising his limited patience; they placed bets with one another to see how long Riddle's temper can hold out for.)
He doesnât much care for hearing stories from the Diamonds, finding them very frivolous. Whatâs with this familyâs obsession with aesthetics? Riddle wonders. Why donât they dedicate their time to more worthwhile pursuits like academics? And yet⊠why does his chest thud with a dull pain when he thinks about Cater in a large, empty house, packing up his life away into cardboard boxes?
The Diamond sisters are all over Trey tooâbut for completely different reasons than they were with Riddle. They drone on and on about how Trey is âhusband materialâ and needlessly feel up his (beefy) arms, cooing and fluttering their lashes at him.
Trey awkwardly laughs off their jokes and shies away from their touch as politely as he can, making it clear he isnât interested. He tries to deflect by changing the subject or offering tea and cakes and, if worse comes to worse, asks Cater for a save. (⊠Unfortunately, this makes the Diamond sisters think heâs playing âhard to getâ.)
Trey actually likes hearing stories about Caterâs childhood; clearly, Cater wonât be this open with others himself, so getting this lore from his sisters is Treyâs second best option. Back then, Cater seemed so real and so vulnerable. Mask entirely off. Trey only wishes that Cater could be this unguarded with him in present day.
He has to admit, itâs amusing how flustered Cater gets trying to act unfazed or to play off his most embarrassing moments. Little by little, Trey feels as though the Diamond sisters are whittling away at his peerâs facade. He canât help but be a little mean about it, taking this opportunity to join the Diamond sisters in teasing Cater. âSo thatâs what you were like, huhâŠâ
He thinks heâs hot stuff, he could toootally bag Caterâs sistersâjust watch him! ⊠And so Ace slicks back his hair and tries his darndest to flirt with them, but to no avail. (The mob students make fun of him for having no rizz, but he defends himself by going, âL-Like you guys could do any better!!â) Man, heâs so jealous of Trey! How come heâs such a chick magnet even though heâs not even actively trying?!
The Diamond sisters wrinkle their noses at him and whisper to one another about how Ace is sooo annoying and cringefail. Think like⊠mean girls gossiping about you to your face. Real blow to Aceâs ego here.
Though the flirting doesnât work out, Ace did initially manage to dazzle the girls with a few of his card tricks. The Diamond sisters clap their hands and demand that he âdo it againâ or tell them how the trick is done. Heâd just cheekily wink and say, âSorry, ladies! I never give away my secrets.â
Thereâs tea about Cater-senpaiâs childhood? Ace is one of the first in line to hear about it!! Heâll memorize the stories and reenact them (including a falsetto voice for young Cater) for the entire dorm later, earning him Caterâs ire. âNe, Ace-chan~ Donât you think youâre bullying poor old Cay-kun too hard?â
As the man of the household, Deuce is usually helping out his mom or the other older ladies in the neighborhood, so he thinks itâs only appropriate to maintain that formal, upright behavior when addressing Caterâs sisters! This leads to Deuce calling both of them âmaâamâ very loudly, which attracts stares from everyone đ
The Diamond sisters wail about the whole âmaâamâ thing. Like, just what is Deuce insinuating about their ages?! Do they look that old to him?! Is he saying he think theyâre hags?! He hurriedly assures them he doesnât mean anything by it, itâs meant to be respectful (but in the process, he accidentally calls them âmaâamâ again and reignites their shrieking).
Appalled by Ace's attempts to flirt with the Diamond sisters, insisting that Ace should "be more of a gentleman, like Clover-senpai!" (He's dense and not fully aware of how uncomfortable Trey is with the circumstances.)
Deuce profusely apologizes to Cater for âhearing something he shouldnât haveâ (ie his embarrassing childhood stories). He promises that heâll act like he didnât hear anything at all! He wears it on his life!! (This doesn't reassure Cater in the slightest. "Eeeeh, the more Deuce-chan says it, the more concerned I get!")
If there's one thing the Diamond sisters love as much as cute things, it's clout! They fawn over Kalim--well, more specifically, his family's wealth and status. (Some might even call it ass kissing.) Kalim's pretty oblivious to it, though. He thinks Cater's sisters are just being friendly with him, so he's friendly right back to them!
The Diamond sisters start to chatter about all these luxurious items they've been ogling. Designer shoes, haute couture dresses, jewelry heavy with gemstones... Kalim very nearly indulges the Diamond sisters by offering to buy those things for them (as "gifts to commemorate their new friendship"), but Cater cuts in to stop him!! "K-Kalim-kun, put away your wallet! The last thing I need right now is Jamil-kun after my neck!"
Kalim's just as bad as the Diamond sisters when it comes to spilling the beans on Cater. While the Diamond sisters yammer on about little baby Cater's missteps, Kalim tells them about the dumb stuff he and Cater get up to in club! They take turns trading stories and dunking on the poor guy...
But the difference between the Diamond sisters and Kalim? Kalim actually puts a positive spin on many of his tales. No matter how bad a show goes or how big the screw up... "All that matters is that we were in it together and had fun doing it. Cater's great at coming up with creative ideas. It makes me really happy to be able to call him my friend and band mate!"
The complete opposite of Riddle. Lilia adores being told he's cute. In fact, he encourages the Diamond sisters to "keep the compliments coming", because adorable things should be seen and adored! (Riddle huffs; Lilia is so shameless about all of this, especially as an upperclassman!)
He gets super into talking with the Diamond sisters about fashion, hair, and even nail polish colors. Lilia mentions some of his favorite and goes on a long spiel about how fashion trends have evolved over the years, and even gets into giving tips and tricks to the Diamonds. Cater's impressed with how smoothly Lilia's handling his sisters!
Lilia listens attentively as the Diamond sisters share their best (worst) stories about little Cater. He coos and chuckles at how cute Cater was "as a wee lad" and pitches in with stories about his own child, phrasing it as though Silver was someone he babysat frequently rather than his own son to avoid confusing the sisters. They murmur approvingly--not only is Lilia inventive and fashion-forward, but he's also great with children!
The Diamond sisters decide that Lilia is their new bestie and exchange numbers with him. He later lets his online buddy, Gloomurai, know about how he got the numbers of two hot women, which Gloomurai pops off about. "gg man ur rizz is INSANE." (Idia can't believe that a single father like Crimson Muscle still has mad game like this!)
BONUS: Some of the Diamond sisters' stories!
(P.S. If you like Cater + Cinderella stuff, you should check out this Cinderella retelling featuring Twst characters ;9)
Apparently, Cater used to talk to the rats and birds before he got a phone (not that he understood them at that age). After moving around so much as a kid, it became difficult for him to make friends with the local children so he'd practice his personas on the vermin in the community.
Once, they were playing dress-up together using their mother's wardrobe and makeup drawer... but they started fighting over some things that Cater was wearing, and his sisters ended up tearing the dress they wanted into rags, as well as snapping many pieces of jewelry. Everyone got scolded and punished that day, even little Cater, who hadn't done anything wrong.
He didn't like lentils as a kid so he'd pretend to trip and fall, spilling them into the ashes in the fireplace. Cater would have to pick all of them out by hand, but the chore was honestly preferable to eating them.
They used to play a game where they'd try to balance various stuff on their heads while walking. Normally it was various numbers of books--seeing who could stack the most--but once Cater tried a tray with a teapot and cups on it. That... didn't go so well.
Cater liked to pretend he was a celebrity! He'd bounce around singing with his hairbrush as a microphone or act like he was MCing for a ball. He would sing a lot as he scrubbed the floors too, popping soap bubbles as he did so.
#twst#twisted wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#Ace Trappola#Riddle Rosehearts#Cater Diamond#Trey Clover#Deuce Spade#Heartslabyul#Lilia Vanrouge#Kalim Al-Asim#NRC Family Day#twst headcanons#twisted wonderland headcanons#curiouser and curiouser#Cinderella
69 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi it's me the person from like a week ago who's writing that college paper about f1 i was gonna respond and then i immediately forgot lol. the paper is on the different media strategies and narratives of the fia, teams, drivers, gp locations, etc, and how they interact with each other. and also how the ways liberty media and the fia are marketing the sport and drawing in new fans is actually alienating people and suppressing the authenticity of the sport. especially post drive to survive.
i'm a comms major lol i am a massive public relations nerd
also a couple questions: idk how well versed you are in business stuff but how would you say f1 has changed its branding, especially pre liberty media to now? and how were drivers marketed before the era of portraying them as like,, pop stars? when was that shift? also if you have any specific examples (or places i could find examples) related to that stuff or sexism in f1 or just how f1 tries to control the narrative i would appreciate it because jesus christ the lack of research is terrible
ok dump over the essays not due for another like 3 weeks but when its done i can send it to you if you want to read it :)
aaaaa this got lost in my ask box i hope iâm not too late posting it :/ unfortunately i have no real sources for you. i know the shift was post drive to survive, but i think it also depends on the country because like f1 hasnât really been a huge Thing in the us, but like ferrari has been italys second religion for years. so it might make sense if you focused it on a country. like in the time since dts first released they added two more us gps: miami (2022) and las vegas (2023). i know thereâs a lot of british bias, especially by sky sports and sometimes in the penalties as well. i think fernando alonso called that out this year (?) and max also usually mentions it a few times (at brazil this year he definitely called out the british press) i know thereâs also interviews of drivers saying post dts people recognized them way more (maybe this was daniel? or lando?) but some of them really like it (daniel) and some of them donât (like max) you could also play the angle from social media, like george used to i know at least run his own twitter way back in the day (might have been pre f1 but i think he was still running it loosely in 2019 or at least tweeting himself) and now he doesnât really touch social media At All cause of the comments he gets. lando used to run most of his own social media also until i think like 2020? 2021? (as in i donât think he had a social media team) before he passed it off to someone else, though i know he still goes on for sure. i think a lot of them definitely cleaned up their media presence post dts (like lewis was certainly a pr nightmare at one point earlier in his career which a lot of people donât realize or remember and weâre not even going to talk about fernando alonso). the sport has gotten more tame for sure over the years, they used to get away with doing and saying way more but that could also just be a general cultural shift, thereâs also i know pockets of people who are like oh this sport used to be so respectful and manly and blah blah blah and like. thereâs photos of michael schumacher at a party in a wedding dress. david coulthard used to pretend to kiss his teammates on the lips in front of the cameras. as for sexism, there have been female drivers before, usually only doing short stints. i know susie wolff has talked about this with the f1 academy how pretty much only lewis consistently shows up to support it. i think max (?) said earlier this year that academy is great but if they want them to make it to f1 they need to give them faster cars. thereâs also the whole horner fiasco from earlier this year.
idk if any of this is useful. or if youâve already turned in your paper. in any case, good luck :)
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
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
#not tagging for visibility bc i do not like this gif but#lol. lmao even.#pierre reaching out but realizing theyre still on camera. charles moving towards him#and then realizing he's just going to touch the box. so he has to do something too#idk i know i'm being very ''he only got two eyes.tumblr txt'' about this but#charles thought he was gonna TOUCH him again like you can SEE it you can SEE his eyes tracking pierres hand#me when im normal: [makes this post]#10 x 16
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
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 naĂŻve 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.
#spilled ink#writeblr#this is a real story lol#looking back i liked larry as a person SO much more than my ex hollyyyyy shitttt#compulsory heterosexuality will do you DIRTY#edit to correct effies name my apologies to effie and effies family
14K notes
·
View notes
Text
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 â chapter three â chapter four
You lied.
You didnât take the tests the next day.
Or the next. You couldnât. 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. Youâd shove it back in the drawer like it could disappear if you just ignored it hard enough.
Once you knew, you knew.Â
There was no more pretending as if nothing happened.
No more pretending like you didn't care that Rafe moved on like he didnât just dump you, with no real closure and ran to the next girl he found.Â
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...youâd 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 wasnât 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 tookâfly out of state, out of the country, if you had to.Â
But that wasnât 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 wasnât. Â
He didnât 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.Â
And youâ 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.Â
Could you wait? Could you put it off like youâd been putting off the tests, like if you waited long enough, maybe the problem would just... disappear? Shit, wouldnât 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 didnât 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 didnât get herself into situations like this, in the first place.
But instead, you were the girl who lost everythingâthe life you were supposed to haveâand somehow, youâd still found a way to screw up what was left.
You kept scrolling like you couldnât stop.
One page led to another, and soon you werenât just looking up clinicsâyou were looking up everything.Â
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 didnât get an abortionâwhat pregnancy could do to your body. And that was a whole other rabbit hole you didnât 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 stuffâgestational diabetes, preeclampsia, all these words you didnât 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 wasnât just this smooth, magical process people make it out to be. It was brutal. But youâd 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.Â
You were terrifiedânot just of being pregnant, but of what it meant to stay pregnant. Would your body even handle it? Youâd always lived off coffee and takeout half the time. An unreasonable amount of parties. Too many drinks some nights.
You werenât exactly the picture of health. What if you werenât strong enough? What if something went wrong, and you ended up in a hospital bed, alone, because Rafe sure as fuck wouldnât be there. It was just you.
For a second there, you thought you might pass out.
Youâd thrown your phone across the room, it hit the wall with a thud, but it didnât 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 shouldâve just taken one.
Rip off the bandaid.
The stupid phone rang, like was having fun pissing you off, vibrating on the floor where youâd thrown it. You stared at it for a second, debating if you should even pick it up. You didnât 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 recognizedâLily, one of the coordinators from your dadâs foundation. Shit. You forgot about the gala. Again. The one that was happening in two freaking days, the one you havenât even thought about preparing for.
You swiped to answer, âYeah?â
âHey, I didnât want to bother you, but we need to go over the final details for the gala,â She greeted you, sounding way too perky for how you were feeling. âI really need your input on the seating arrangements, and the auction items, andââ
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 childrenâs 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 hadnât said a word. âUh, yeah, sorry. Iâve been busy. Can you just handle it?â you muttered, feeling guilty but not enough to actually deal with any of it.
âIâve already taken care of most things,â she said carefully, âbut we really need your approval on the final guest list and the speech. Youâre the face of the foundation, after all.â
The face of the foundation. The legacy your dad left you. It was supposed to be this huge responsibility. And it was. Youâd always taken it seriously. The one thing in your life you never ruined. But this year, you hadnât written the speech yet. Jesus, you forgot it was even happening. And the guest list? No clue.
You rubbed your forehead, âIâll look at it later. Just send it over.â
Lily hesitated again, probably sensing that something was off, you'd always been a control freak. âOkay, Iâll email it to you. Just let me know by tomorrow, alright?â
âYeah, sure.â
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 expectationsâbeing 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. Sheâd sent over the guest list, and you groaned, thinking youâd 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 wouldnât he? His family had been involved in your dadâs foundation for years. It was like you couldnât 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.Â
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 didnât even exist. And then, without checking another name, you sent the list back to Lily.
You didnât give a shit if it was petty. You didnât care if it wasnât professional.
If Rafe wanted to play games, youâd ruin his life if you had to. He thought he could fuck you over, leave you with all thisâleave you with nothing? No. You werenât 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.Â
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 speechâthe one you were supposed to read at the gala in two days. The one you hadnât 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 speechâit 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. Heâd sit with you while you struggled through every word, telling you it was okay to take your time, reminding you that you didnât have to do it if you didnât 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. Youâd run into his arms, and heâd 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, 'youâre stronger than you think'.
Thatâs what he always said, even when you didnât believe it. Heâd 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 wasnât going to be there. Heâd stop believing the lies he fed you. You were angry. You were seething. You were utterly alone.
Youâd been avoiding this momentâwriting.
This time around, it wasnât just about the speech. It was about the fact that when you walked out of that stage, you wouldnât have him waiting for you.
Youâd step down into nothingness, with no one to catch you.
Your fingers hovered over the screen, but they wouldnât 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 youâd 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. Â
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 togetherâhe 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. Youâd still do it.
Because unlike him, you didnât 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 werenât fine. But youâd fake it. Youâd fake it until the whole world believed it.Â
Youâd barely hit send on the email when your phone rang again, and this time it wasnât Lily.
It was Topper. You hadnât talked to him since that nightâthe night. The party where youâd found out, where youâd seen Rafe and Sofia together for the first time. Where you realized that everyone knew.
How heâd called Rafe over, like you needed him to fix it, like he was still yours to rely on.
âWhat?â
âHeyâŠâ Topperâs voice was cautious, âI, uh, I wanted to call and apologize for the other night.â
You snorted, leaning your head back against the wall. âYeah? For what part? For calling Rafe like his little bitch or for getting in front of my car when I was trying to leave?â
âI didnât mean to fuck things up. I was just trying to stop you from doing something stupid.â
âLike what?â you snapped. âLeaving the party? Getting out of there before I had to watch him with her for one more second? Yeah, Top, real dumb of me.â
âYou almost ran me over,â Topper shot back, his voice rising just a little, like he was offended you hadnât mentioned that part. âKinda felt like maybe you werenât thinking straight.â
âYou 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, âm all out of patience for either of you.â
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 youâd get over.
He never really got it.
âLook,â Your cousin started, calmer this time, âI didnât mean to call him. I just thoughtââ
âYou always think calling him will fix things,â you cut in, âLike heâs the answer to every problem I have. Heâs not. Not anymore.â
âI get that,â He added quickly, like he was afraid youâd hang up. âBut I didnât know what else to do! You were upset, and I thought maybeââ
âMaybe what? That he could swoop in and save the day?â You let out a bitter laugh. âHeâs not your golden boy, Top. He doesnât fix anything. He ruins things.â
Topper went quiet for a second, probably trying to figure out how to respond without setting you off on an angry rant again. âI get it,â he said finally, âYouâre pissed at him. You have every right to be. But I didnât call him to hurt you, okay? I was worried about you.â
You hated how genuine he sounded, hated that he meant well. He was a nuisance half of the time, sure, but he wasnât malicious. He never was. He just had terrible judgment.Â
âNext time, donât,â you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. âI donât need you playing little brother and calling him when things go wrong."
âI wasnât trying to clean anything up,â Topper explained, a little defensive now. âI just didnât want you driving like that. You were upset.â
You rolled your eyes. âUpset doesnât mean I need you or Rafe deciding whatâs best for me. Iâm not a kid.â
âYouâre not,â he agreed, âBut you werenât exactly in a great headspace, so yeah, I stopped you. I wasnât gonna let you leave like that and end up in a ditch somewhere.â
It hurt like a bitch, because deep down, you knew Topper had a point.
You were having a meltdown, and heâd stepped in, like he always did when you went off the rails. That was the problem with himâhe cared, even when you didnât want him to. He was family, the only family you had left, and he was too loyal for his own good.
âYou couldâve told me,â you confessed what had been upsetting you, your voice losing some of its initial attitude. âAbout them. Instead of letting me walk into that party blind.â
Topper sighed again, âI shouldâve,â he admitted. âI didnât want you to find out like that. But it wasnât my place to say anything. And I didnât want to make things worse.â
Your hand instinctively moved to cup your stomach. You didnât 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 youâd 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 headâor your body.
Not to Topper. Not to anyone. If he knew, heâd freak and you didnât 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.Â
âAre you even listening?â
âUnfortunately,â You sounded apathetic even to yourself, fingers tapping against the phone, agitated. âLook, Top, I donât have time for this right now. Iâm busy.â
He sighed. âI know youâre pissed, okay? I get it. But the galaâs in, like, two days. You... you still going, right?â
âOf course Iâm going,â you scowled, barely able to hide the bitterness in your voice. âI have to. Itâs not like I can just dip out and pretend itâs not happening.â
Unlike some people, you thought, but you bit your tongue.
âGood, because Iâll be there too. And Iââ
âOh, joy,â you interrupted, âAnother chance for you to babysit me and make sure I donât make a scene? Canât wait.â
âJesus, Iâm just trying to help!â Topper groaned. âI didnât want to make things worse the other night. Iââ
âYeah. Whatever, Iâll see you at the gala.â
You hung up. You didnât have the patience to deal with him right now.Â
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 foundationâs signature gold and white.Â
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 didnât care. People were running around, asking for your opinion on this or that. Youâd 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 shouldâve called your doctor. Days ago. Hell, maybe weeks ago.
Making smart choices wasnât your thing lately, was it?
When you finally slipped into the room where theyâd 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 everythingâhair 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 didnât 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 didnât bear a resemblance to yourself.
You looked like the version of you that the world expectedâthe untouchable girl. A doll.
Your rifled through your bag for your phone, but instead, your fingers brushed something else. Cold, hard.Â
You hadnât even realized it was in there.
One of the pregnancy tests. You mustâve thrown it in without thinking earlier that morning when you were rushing out the door. You hadnât 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 youâd been shoving down for weeks, but suddenly, you didnât 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 soundâyour 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 theyâre supposed to host a charity gala?Â
You couldnât 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 wasnât?
You stared at the test, willing the result to appear, but it didnât. 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 werenât stupid. Youâd read those instructions a million times by now, but you hated waiting.
Hated not knowing.
You couldnât 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 youâyour eyes were wild. Desperate. They were the eyes of someone who was just about ready to do anything to get this over with.Â
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 knewâsomewhere out there, everyone was getting ready. Guests were arriving. The gala would start soon, and theyâd all be waiting for you. Watching you. Expecting you to be the poised, perfect version of yourself youâd 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 endâsomething to happen, anything.
Then finally, you felt it in your chestâa heavy, sinking feeling, like the moment before a fall.
You opened your eyes.Â
There it was.
TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbbyy @whytheylosttheirminds
@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616
@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei
@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2
@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron au#rafe fic#rafe x reader#rafe cameron angst#toxic!rafe#toxic!reader#angst#itneverendshere worksâš#rafe cameron series#rafe cameron outer banks#eventual smut#eventual fluff#just angst now#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron obx#obx 4#obx rafe cameron#rafe x sofia
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
He has a feeling that the new girl running the front desk at the gym is going to be a problemâa 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.
âGood morning, Mr. Riley.âÂ
âItâs just Simon,â he tells you as he takes his card off the counter.Â
The following day, itâs the same, except Johnny is there to make it worse.
He nudges Simon with his elbow. âSheâs kinda pretty, huh?â
âSay it any louder, and sheâll hear you, mate,â he grumbles.
Simonâs not blind; of course, he knows youâre pretty, but he doesnât have time to commit to anything outside of workâeven if you smile at him like youâre happy to see him and how heâll 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, itâs that youïżœïżœ
(You try to make small talk with him every morning, and Simon is starting to think itâs just for him because on the days he doesnât come alone, you merely scan his card and go back to reading the open paperback book on the desk.)
Itâs weird because itâs almost like youâ
(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 hasnât 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.Â
Instead, he tosses potatoes in his cart and walks away.)
He tells himself it means nothing, or not how Simon wants it to.
Youâre justâŠheâs 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 wishesâ
(Simon doesnât know what heâs doing the first time he invites you to meet the guys from work on a night out. Heâs dated around a few times and had his fair share of hook-ups, but this isnât 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 thatâs probably too light for early spring in Londonâeven though he stares appreciatively at the long expanse of your legs as you walk up to the tableâand he wishes he wasnât introducing you as his friend.)
But youâ
(A new development happens after you slip him your phone number on one of the gymâs business cardsâitâs weird that we donât have each otherâs numbers, so message me sometime or whateverâand he messages you âheyâ right before he leaves for a mission a few days later.Â
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, itâs better.)
You really areâ
(His house feels too hot, and heâs 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 monumentalâsomething 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 barâa tilt of the axis that makes the messy pieces fall neatly into place.Â
He must be staring because you glance up at him, smiling, and the sound from the TV turns into white noise in the background.
âCan IâŠwould youâfucking hell,â Simon runs a hand through his hair. âCan I kiss you?â
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 kissingâhim licking the seam of your mouth, and you panting his name.
âIâve wanted to do that for a while,â you mumble, lips brushing his.
âMe too,â and he fists his hand into the hair at your nape and pulls you back to his mouth.)
âI knew youâd be trouble,â 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.
âOh, yeah?â you giggle, leaning into his side.
âYeah,â the corners of his mouth quirk, though he hides it when he presses a kiss against your temple. âA real pain in my ass, love.â
âBut yours.â
This time, he does smile. âYes, but mine.â
Masterlist
#simon riley imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost imagine#simon riley fluff#cod imagine#cod x reader#cod fic#mw2 x reader#mw2 imagine#.things i write
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
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 clothesđ (?)
Authorâs 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 itđ„č the title is inspired by DNCE's song: Toothbrush I am currently banging with this song for weeks now.
Navigation | Masterlist
â§
âF-fuck please be bad Mommy.â Natasha whined.
âNo mommy wants to be bad to their babyâŠâ
â§
âWhat do you want Tony?â Natasha chuckled as she saw her best friend on her apartment door at 7 oâclock early in the morning, standing there holding a pizza box. âReally? Pizza? Early this morning?â
Tony rolled his eyes and pushed his way inside, shutting the door behind him. âWell, thank you for the warm welcome,â he teased. âBefore I go to my asshole of a fatherâs place, I want to do one thing. Something purposeful for you, my friend.â
Nat raised an eyebrow, intrigued. âAnd what would that be?â she asked, as she led him to the living room of her small apartment.
âLet me see your phone,â he said, taking it out of her hands.
âHey, wait!â the redhead protested, but Tony was already fiddling with it. âWhat are you doing?!â
âSetting up an account on a dating app,â he replied, typing away.
âWow. So this is your grand purpose? Setting me up on a dating app? Iâm touched.â 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 accountâhe is really serious about setting her up on a dating site.
âYou gotta be kidding TonyâŠâ
âNope. Enough robotics Romanoff before you turn into one.â
Natâs 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.
âLetâs make things spicy,â he said under his breath as he set the age range for Natashaâs profile.
With a few taps, he set the age preference to 30-50 years old. âYouâll thank me for this, Nat,â 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 Natâs 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 womenâwomen 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.
âSeriously Nat, youâve got like a million screenshots of scientific articles and memes about space, and when you do actually take a photo, itâs of some historical artifact in a museum. This is like a grandmaâs photo albumâŠâ He grumbled, scrolling further.
âOkay, thatâs enough.â 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.
âDamn, Nat,â he muttered under his breath, a smirk forming on his face. âI had no idea you were hiding this much muscle under those baggy clothes.â 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 Natashaâs flexing arms. âYeah, definitely milfs will absolutely love these shots.â
Nat couldn't help but blush, both at the compliment and at the mention of milfs. âYou really think so?â she asked, a hint of shyness in her voice.
âOh yeah, they would swipe right in a heartbeat,â he said, chuckling. âThese are juicyâŠâ
âOkay, you sounded perverted. Gimme thatâŠâ Natasha was finally able to get her phone back and Tony raised his hands in mock surrender. âHey, I was just trying to get some good pictures of you in there. You gotta give the ladies something to look at, you know?â
Tony watched as Natasha went through the app, âYou just need to click confirm, and itâs all set upâŠbut itâs still your choice. AndâŠI gotta go, momâs gonna call me.â
Natasha paused and looked at Tony with relief and confusion. She was grateful for the break in the conversation, but she also didnât want him to leave just yet. âOkay...go ahead. Canât keep mommy waiting.â She said jokingly.
âOkay now that sounded perverted coming from you, Romanoff.â Tony pointed a finger at her while walking backwards towards the redheadâs apartment door.
âIâm just kidding,â Natasha let out some giggles as she walked Tony off her apartment, âDonât kill your father, Tony.â
âIâll try not to, I canât believe mom wanted me to spend half of my summer with him. I love her so much that Iâll do anything she asks of me even though itâs spending some time with the man who hurt her.â
âYouâll be fine, just donât get your hand bloody like last time.â
Tony chuckled and saluted her back, then turned to leave. âI make no promises, Romanoff.â He sighed, Natasha just gently patted Tonyâs shoulder and when she was about to close her door, her best friend's foot stopped it from closing.
âGoodluck with the milf hunting.â
â§
For the next few days, Nat found herself thinking about the dating app and Tonyâs 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. Sheâd 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 preferenceâolder, attractive milf, thanks to her best friend who knew exactly what her type is.
As she read the bios, she couldnât 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 powerfulâlike 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.
âY/N, 44 years old, mother of two, loves gardening, sketchingâŠâ 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 carâno 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.
âJust 4 hours drive away from hereâŠâ
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. Sheâd faced down debaters, cracked numerous codes, and aced countless exams and quizzes. But responding to a simple âhiâ 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: Iâm 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 godlyđȘđ„
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 youâre calling her.
Nat: Thanks :)))
You: SoâŠwhere exactly do you live in Brooklyn?
â§
âY-you should... probably stop thatâŠâ she whispers, her voice barely audible. âI-I'm not... I'm not good atâŠâ
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. Natashaâs face turns a deep shade of red, and she lets out a soft whimper as she feels herself getting hard beneath you. âP-please... stopâŠâ
And you did, you pause, lifting your hips away from her but you were still straddling herâkneeling 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. âIâm stopping because my baby told me to. Mommy has to listen to what her baby says, mommy doesnât wanna be bad.â
âF-fuck please be bad Mommy.â Natasha whined.
âNo mommy wants to be bad to their babyâŠâ
Natasha lets out a frustrated whine again, her hips bucking forward again as she chases the friction she was just denied. âB-but... Mommy... it feels so goodâŠyouâre so goodâŠâ she whimpers, her eyes filled with need and puppy-dog sadness. âPlease... just a little moreâŠâ
You slowly unbutton your top, revealing your bra. Natashaâs 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 Natashaâs 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. âBe good and suck Mommyâs tits,â 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.
âThat's it, baby. Be so good for MommyâŠâ
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 Natashaâs 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.
âGuess whoâs being bad, hm?â
âPleaseâŠp-please mommy.â
You carefully shifted to position yourself on Natashaâs 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. âY/NâŠâ she stammers.
âThatâs not my name baby.â
âMommy, please!â
You bit your lower lip and began to move, taking her in and out of your warmth, Natashaâs head lolls back, her mouth opening in a silent 'O' of pleasure. Her hands on your hips tighten, her fingers digging in slightly. âIt's...it's so tight, MommyâŠyouâre soâŠâ
âMhm, yeah?â You pant condescendingly, âMommyâs what baby?â
âSo good! So tight!â She cries.
âOh yeah?â
You lean down, your breath hot against her ear. âThat's because Mommyâs special hole is made just for my special baby. Only for youâŠâ You punctuate each phrase with a slow thrust, taking her deeper.
Natashaâs breathing grows faster, her chest rising and falling rapidly against yours. Her hips buck upwards to meet your slow, languid movements. âMommy...it...it feelsâŠso goodâŠâ she moans softly, her voice barely a whisper. âI... I think I'm... I'mâŠâ
âAre you good?â 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.
âAre you good, Natasha?â Now you calling her on her first name caught her attention.
âY-yesâŠâ
Your hands gripped her shoulders as you continued to ride her. âThen hold it, baby. If you're good youâre going to hold it until Mommy says you can comeâŠâ You increase the pace slightly, your own pleasure building as you feel him throb inside you. âThat's it... just hold onâŠâ
Her face scrunches up in concentration, her hands bruising your waist. âM-Mommy... it's...it's too much...I can't... I can't hold itâŠâ she whines pitifully, his voice filled with need and desperation. âPleaseâŠâ
âNo, baby. You hold it. You can do it. Mommy knows you're strongâŠâ You lean back further, grinding down onto her, your abdominal muscles flexing, âand youâre good, you can do it baby.â
Natasha lets out a high-pitched whine, her body trembling as she tries her best to obey. âI-I'm trying...Mommy...I'm trying to be goodâŠâ 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. âThat's my baby... You're doing so well... just a little longerâŠâ
Her face flushed with heat, her pupils dilating as she watched you with an agape mouth, riding her. Suddenly, her expression turns defiant.
âFuck...maybe I wanna be bad,â she grips your hips tightly and begins to thrust up into you, ignoring your command. âFuck, mommy I wanna be bad.â
Youâre taken aback by her sudden defiance, your eyes widening in surprise. âNatasha... baby, no...oh! â Your voice trails off as she continues to thrust into you deliciously.
âShit baby, fuck youâre so strong!â
So now, it's you who's trying to hold back, but Natashaâs 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.
âNattyâŠbaby stopâŠâ
âI can't stop, MommyâŠâ she moans, her body tensing as she reaches her limit. âI... I'm gonna...I'm gonna come...I'm gonna come inside youâŠâ 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.
âTurn around...get on your hands and kneesâŠâ
âWhaââ
Your shocked expression quickly turns into one of pleasure as Natashaâs 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. âGood...my good girl... Now stay like thatâŠâ
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 sheâd seem like the one to submit. Now, the roles are reversed, and youâre 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. âYou like that, hm, Mommy?â she growls.
âYou like being on the other end, don't you?â she thrusts deep, her hips slapping against your ass. âAnswer meâŠâ her hand reaches around, finding your most intimate spot. âAnswer me or I'll stopâŠâ she teases you mercilessly.
âYesyesyes!â
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.
âHold your thighâŠâ she took your hand and put it to keep your thigh up. âHold...hold the other...hold bothâŠâ 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.
âOh God...Oh God, Natasha...Please... I can't...I can't take it anymoreâŠâ 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. âOh, no you don'tâŠâ 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.
âCome for me, mamaâŠâ she whispers in your ear, her voice dark and commanding. âSquirt all over my cockâŠâ
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.
âThat's itâŠâ 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.
âYouâre so good for me, mama.â
â§
You wake up to the sound of birds chirping outside. Blinking your eyes open, you find yourself alone in Natashaâs 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.
âHow could I have been so stupid?â You chide yourself, your voice barely a whisper. âI drove four hours just to...to sleep with a stranger on a dating app.â
âAm I really that desperate for a good fuck?â you whisper harshly to yourself.
Panicked, you start searching for your clothes, but they're nowhere to be found. âWhere are my clothes?â 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
âThe physics is theoretical but the fun is real.â
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 elseâjust 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.
âNatasha...Alianovna Romanoff,â you smiled as her name tumbled out of your lips. âBeautiful name to moan to...â
âDecember 3,â you frowned, tilting your head slowly as you read the detail, â2002âŠâ you felt your heart dropped to your stomach.
â22 years old?â
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 clothesâher 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 legsâand your nude colored panties she herself took off last night.
You march towards her, barefoot, brandishing the application paper like a sword.
âYou're 22?!â
âWhaââ
âYour bio says you're 28!â
âWhaâI-I didn't knoââ
âThat's bullshit!â
âAnd I was like...God! I slept with someone who's the same age as my sons.â 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.
âAt least you had a good fuck,â 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...
âYeah...it wasâŠâ You trail off, unable to meet her gaze.
âGood? Good?â Thena asks pulling the words out of you as she noticed you being hesitant.
âShe was so gentle at first, almost shy...let me lead her but once she got going...whew!â You whistled softly, fanning yourself as you laughed.
âAnd you ghosted herâŠâ You pause mid-laugh at your best friend's reply, you felt like she just slapped the reality across your face.
âI...â you raised your brows, palming your chest as you looked at her, âI didn't, okay, I just left. What would you expect me to do? She lied.â 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.
âShe's young, Thena,â you reason, âShe'll move on. She'll meet someone new.â You dismiss the idea of Natasha being hurt by your not so sudden disappearance with a wave of your hand. âIt'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?â You chuckled humorlessly. You really wished you weren't.
âHm, just fucking.â
âExactly, just fucking,â you say, mirroring Thena's crude language. âWe both needed that at the moment.â You nod confidently, convinced that's all it wasâa 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.
âBesides, what would my sons think if they knew I was dating someone their age?â you muse aloud, looking at Thena with concern and embarrassment. âThey'd probably be disgusted, TheeâŠI swearâŠâ
âAt least you're not robbing the cradle or y'know. It's not like she's underage or anything.â
âOkay, enough, stop justifying her age. She still lied, which I didn't like. I wouldnât date someone who's the same age as my son and someone whoâs younger, period.â You said with a finality making your best friend laugh at your now serious face, sheâs really not used to you being like that.
âGosh, they wouldn't even let me date anyone,â you sighed, slumping back in your chair dramatically, making Thena laugh even harder.
âYouâve got some overprotective babies there.â Thena chuckles between giggles.
You can't help but agree with your best friend, nodding your head in agreement. âYeah, they are pretty overprotective. I swear, sometimes I think they forget I'm an adult too.â You smiled, remembering that your two sweet boys are coming home today for summer break.
â§
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 âHey, Mom.â
âHello my babies.â You almost cried on the spot seeing your grown sons.
âWhatchu cookinâ mama?â your eldest, Mark asked, kissing your forehead before entering the house.
âYour favorite beefy creamy mushroom, baby!â You shout.
âI love you so much, âma!â
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.
âPut me down, you little devil!â You scolded lightheartedly, playfully pushing against your sonâs 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.
âI missed you so much, mom.â
âI missed you too, Tony.â You cupped his cheek and pestered him with so many kisses making him giggle.
âI...uhh mama, I hope you wouldnât mind, I am sorry for telling this to you right now. But I brought a friend over, if thatâs fine?â you placed your hands on his shoulders, as he looked at you with his usual puppy-dog eyes, âI owe her big time, I was the reason sheâs heartbroken and why her favorite shirt is stolen.â
âYeah, yeah...â you nodded encouragingly to assure him that it's okay to have some friend over, and the mention of a stolen shirt made you laughâit was silly you thought.
âYeah, sure babyâŠyou caââ 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 youâre wearing that was in fact hers.
âMom, this is Natasha.â
#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff#black widow#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff au#natasha romanoff fanfic#black widow x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
INTERRUPTING THEM WITH A KISS ⶠđœđŸđșđđŸđ & đ·đșđŒđ
ïč â ïč đ
đđŸđŒđđ ă
€đđ. enhypen melting into you like it's a habit. contains fem!r, fluff, lots of kissing, pg 15. wc 1657, approximately 0.24k each. check out the dđŸrectory? stat requested.
ââââââđđđĄđđđđđĄđđŁđđđŠ, đđđŸđđŸ đđđŸđ đđđđŸ đđ đđ đș đđŸđ đșđœđœđđŒđđđđ.
đđđ đđđđŠđđšđĄđ
lee heeseung swears he's never found anyone or as a matter of fact, anything as annoying as you. you're like a roach up his ass, the bane of his existence. yet when he looks at your cherry stained lips as you crash into him outside the clubâ he can't deny: that the idea of them against his own doesn't seem half as bad. probably the alcohol, heeseung convinces himself.
"if you don't get off and at least a hundred feet away from me right now, i sweaâ" and your lips crash into his. intentionally, to get under his skin? accidentally, because of the shots? who cares! heeseung can literally feel the breath leave his lungs as you move your lips against his.
but you pull away before he can do anything,"shut up jerâ" and it irks him for some god forbid reason, alcohol again? oh fuck the alcohol! imma kiss that attitude outta her. not even a fraction of second passes before heeseung is grabbing your jaw and pulling you back into a kiss.
you want to breathe? forget it. lee heeseung is not having it anymore. a chance to put you in your place, he's not letting it slip through his fingers. he does not want to.
"you shut up." the tendencies of an enemy with his deepest desires unknown to him; kissable lips on an enemy is the most sinful and irresistible thing ever. probably why you annoyed him.
đŁđđ„đ đđąđĄđđŠđđąđĄđ
jay's thighs feel warm against your own as you sit still on his lap, his legs shaking subtly while he rambles about some clothes. the tiny smear of vanilla ice cream near the corner of his lower lip, bothering you more and more with the seconds ticking by.
"and then i had to get the pants exchangâ" you don't even realize it yourself when you lean in to capture his lips and lick at the sweetness. his own words dying down as he stares down at your face, completely dumbstruck. come on, that's your girlfriend idiot! kiss back! it's probably the twelfth time you both have kissed since you got together three months ago; it's not like he's keeping track of the kisses but... yeah you make him too nervous so, he is.
"b-baby..?" your hands cup his cheeks and he shuts down again. ears burning hot, and lips parted to let you do what you want. if there's one thing jay can't help, it's letting you have your way. whenever, wherever.
it takes him approximately ten seconds to overcome that nervousness and respond to the kiss. mouth closing in on your chocolate flavored lips in a soft and gentle smooch. after smooch. after smooch. the tendencies of a new boyfriend still reeling in; having the girlfriend of your dreams is not something you can get used to just like that.
đŠđđ đđđđŹđšđĄ
jake has been hanging out and around you for months now. it should have gotten easier by this time, he thinks. but no, every look, every conversation, every subtle touch feels like it burns hotter than the last time. are these the side effects of a crush? of getting closer to them? or of behaving normally after accidentally pecking? jake checks all the boxes.
"yeah so it's supposed to go like this. did you get iâ" jake looks up from the project files on the desk, his voice and his life dropping down to his ass at the touch of your lips on his. what the hell is happening? are you actually? is he dreaming? jake cannot decide on what he should think. kiss back obviously! what's more to think?!
the kiss is short and sweet, and it doesn't satisfy him. hand immediately grabbing your throat to keep you from pulling away as he begins responding to the kiss. lips engulfing yours in a deeper and longer one, like it's the nth time you are kissing. like he's so used to it, like he's addicted?
âwhatâ what was that?â jake pants out, somehow managing to pull away. his demeanor shifting drastically from the one that had just possessed him. the tendencies of a crush finally getting a taste; once you get hooked, there's no going back. not after a kiss uncalled for like that.
đŁđđ„đ đŠđšđĄđđđąđąđĄ
he has slept once with you, just once sunghoon reminds himselfâ grounds himself; for he feels way too obsessed with the thought of you for having only had you once in that way. is it normal? probably not. will he do something about it? probably not.
so he acts like normal, tries to. his hands in his pockets as he walks with you to his car, head hanging low even though his eyes keep stealing glances at you while he tells you about his upcoming tournaments. stopping to open the passenger seat door for you, still speaking of his fears of lack of perfectionism.
"there's still parts i need to work extra oâ" but instead of getting right in, you get onto your tiptoes and pull him by his collar into a kiss. if a body can function with a disjointed heart, sunghoon swears it's him.
his heart skipping beats in a row and all of a sudden feeling like it's stopped entirely. yet his hands and lips move without a second thought, without waiting for even a millisecond. grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you right back, nibbles and suckles and tongue and everything.
"you'll do well, don't worry too much," the tendencies of a one night stand turned friend; it's probably not the best idea to become buddies with someone you slept with, especially if you want more.
đđđ đŠđđąđĄđȘđąđą
the hallways are crowded as always, loud and bustling, drowning out your and sunooâs laughs and giggles. talking about anything and everything while you wait for another friend.
sunoo's known you for a few years now, not a lot but enough to know when something's up. âhe didn't check it properly and then.. hey? are you okaââ and he notices it on your face a fraction of a moment before you pull him into an abrupt kissâ mid conversation.
frozen, nervous and confused. yet all he thinks is actually how uncannily decent it feels, almost encroaching a feeling way too good. âiâm so sorry sun. i told my ex we are dating and he looked our way when he passed by and i panickedââ sunoo shushes you all too quickly, regretting not having kissed back properly.
âi get it, we can pretend. i don't mind it,â he doesn't know what comes over him as he proposes the idea, but he definitely expects to get into situations like these. why? he has no clue. he just wants it.
âeverything you need to do to convince him, iâm all in,â his gaze trails over your lips, leaning closer unintentionally. another kiss right in the middle of the hallway. the tendencies of a friend offering to help in a non friendly way; fake dating a friend you feel like you could possibly develop feelings for is like digging your own grave.
đŹđđĄđ đđšđĄđđȘđąđĄ
four months, seventeen days, twelve hours and probably thirty-six minutes. jungwonâs counting with all he has. this relationship, or whatever is going on between you two; beyond friends and bordering lovers, is bugging him down to his core. it's eating away at him.
âyou just called me your friend,â leaning against the elevator wall, hands in his pockets, jungwon tries to behaveâ be as nonchalant as he can. jealousy? what's that? look me in the eyes and tell me i'm just a friend look.. no he isn't looking at you like that. snap out of it yang jungwon!
âyou really think iâm just a friend? after all that we have donââ two steps closer, bodies pressed, eyes locked and your kiss that shuts him up. oh to hell with being normal with you. your hands slide around the back of his neck and his words die down against your lips like kissing you is his second nature.
âboyfriend? you want that label?â the mumbles against his lips, the sound of your soft breaths and the taste of your lipbalm, it's like jungwon is high.
âagain.â catching your lower lip between his in a languid nibble. he can't help but keep wanting to kiss you, the ding of the elevator drowned out behind all his thoughts of you. the tendancies of a situationship with obvious feelings; being friendzoned by your girlfriend-to-be gets you jealous, he'll admit it now.
đĄđđŠđđđ đšđ„đ đ„đđđ
friends. friends. friends. riki chants internally, again and again. and again. poopy diaper, runny nose, screeching tantrumsâ he thinks everything unpleasant about you, everything he possibly can. childhood friends ripping each other's hair out, neighbours annoying each other across the bedroom windows, classmates snitching out on each other's crushes. everything that's just friends.
nothing more. neverâ impossible. riki soothes himself, his mind and heart still jumbling all around after your question earlier, âwhat if we kissed?â disgusting! right? he's not sure if he's answering or questioning his sanity.
and though the conversation is stirred clear of the topic, both of you nestled on your bedroom floor talking about club applications; his eyes staring right at you, seeming as unfazed as ever, his psychological state is nowhere near willing to calm down.
âwhat do you think about the drama cluââ your lips don't last even a second on his, before he is pushing you away, like he's allergic to kisses.
âw-what are you doing!â riki exclaims, fingers rubbing over his mouth,âi told you earlier,â and then slowly reaching forward to brush them against yours as he leans back in, involuntarily he insists. âi know but this is, so weird.. iâm not supposed to like it,â soft mumbles and lips grazing. the tendencies of a lifelong friend crossing an improbable line. locking lips with your childhood friend just for a âwhat ifâ is the worst plan ever, or maybe not so much.
taglist ăopen! @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @enhabooks @criminalyun @oddracha @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @jayjw16enxp
#enhypen imagines#enhypen reactions#SURPRISE KISSES ARE ALWAYS THE BEST >< !#k-labels#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fluff#enhypen headcanons#enhypen drabbles#enhypen heeseung imagines#enhypen jay imagines#enhypen jake imagines#enhypen sunghoon imagines#enhypen sunoo imagines#enhypen jungwon imagines#enhypen niki imagines#enha imagines#enha reactions
925 notes
·
View notes
Text
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 holidaysđ€
Your heart jumps up and down in joy, feet carrying you down the hallway at lightspeed. Finally heâs back. How long has it been since youâve last seen him? Definitely too long.
âSatoru!â, you cry out.
There he stands, his arms already wide open while wearing the casual sly grin you adore so much. You canât contain yourself any longer, your giggles filling his very own heart with nothing but joy.
Satoru doesnât 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 didnât think much of it, bought it only because it reminded him of you. But oh, you were so joyful back then.
âAre you kidding me?â, you breathed out, glossy eyes staring at the pretty ugly figure so heartfelt that Satoru couldnât help but shamelessly stare at you.
âIt reminded me of you since I know itâs your favourite animal, so yeahâŠYou like it?â
âLike it?â
You grabbed his hands with so much passion that he almost fell backwards, jumping up and down in delight.
âI love it, Satoru! This is probably the nicest thing someone ever did for me!â
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 heâs 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?
âI was so worried about you! Why didnât you answer your calls?â, you mumble against the fabric of his uniform, instantly greeted by the singing smell of curses.
âOh yâknow, 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 didnât call you backâ, he teases you gently.
âThat didnât stop me from getting something for you, thoughâŠâ
Your eyes widen in sheer excitement, head darting towards him instantly.
âNo, you didnâtâ, you mutter, lips already forming the most adorable smile.
âHeck yeah I did.â
âI told you over and over that you donât need to do that, Satoru!â
âDo you like them?â
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. Â You are so breath-taking, so pure that it warms his heart.
âOf course I doâ, you mumble into your hand.
âThere you go.â
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 isnât this simple. No, engraved into it in Satoruâs iconic handwriting, it says âevery thought, youâ.
âYou canât be serious about this, Satoru. I really donât deserve this.â
âYou deserve this and even more, (y/n). Do you like it?â
âYou ask me if I like it?â, 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 â way too expensive for a simple souvenir. But oh how much you love it already, youâll keep this close to your heart day in and day out.
âI love it. Thank you so much.â
Thereâs 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 donât deserve his kindness, his affection. What an outstanding man he is, so tender that it makes you tear up.
âIâd do anything to make you smileâ, he mutters into your hair, hands stroking your back ever so gently.
SmileâŠOh, you almost forgot!
âWould youâŠWould you mind coming to my dorm for a second? Thereâs something I want to give you as well.â
You wipe your tears away unladylike, your hand grabbing his before heâs even able to answer your question.
âSomething you want to give to me? Remember when I told you you donât have to buy me anything?â
âRemember when I told you the same?â, 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 youâd 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.
âOkay, now thatâs adorableâ, 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 isnât 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 postcardsâŠ
It dawns to him, heart skipping a beat. These are all the souvenirs he brought you over the last few years.
âDonât tell me you kept everything I gave you.â
Oh, please tell him you did.
âHuh?â
Your innocent eyes dart towards the drawer behind you, your cheeks instantly heating up all over again.
âOhâŠof course I kept them! Why would I ever throw them away?â
âYou even kept the packages of the sweets from last monthsâŠâ
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.
âI just love to get reminded of you I guess.â
âAnd I love you, (y/n). You have to be the most precious human being Iâve ever met.â
The way your eyes widen and your mouth shoots open is priceless. You look so utterly surprised that he canât help but chuckle while wrapping his strong arms around you all over again.
âY-you, loving me?â, you stutter.
âWell, I was hoping youâd love me too-â
âI doâ, you interrupt him immediately.
âI love you more than any souvenir!â, you babble out.
âThatâs what a man needs to hearâ, 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
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#jujutsu gojo#jjk gojo#gojo saturo#gojou satoru x reader#jjk fluff#jjk comfort#jujutsu kaisen gojo#satoru#satoru gojo#happy birthday gojo#gojo satoru x reader#satoru x reader#satoru x you#satoru x y/n#satoru fluff#gojo fluff#gojo x you#gojo jjk
3K notes
·
View notes
Note
Not sure if Iâm doing this right since Iâm 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 Miguelâs neighbor. They live in this building and their other neighbor is a rude lady who complains at the slightest Noise basically. she doesnât dare bother Miguel but is always bothering the reader since reader canât 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 youâre doing great :D donât forget to hydrate â„ïž
1K Prompts
Pairing: Miguel OâHara 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, donât 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.Â
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.Â
âYou useless teenagers and your need to ruin good things, donât think I forgot when you tr-â
âIs there a problem here?â
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.Â
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.Â
Miguelâs 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.Â
âThen you wouldnât mind helping me put away my groceries, right? Canât get my keys with my hands full,â Miguel speaks in a lazy drawl.Â
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 âthank youâ 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.Â
âKeys are in my pants pocket.â
You quickly nod, whispering out an âokayâ. 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 hisâŠthing. 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.Â
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. Â
His breath tickles your neck and ear, warm and slightly minty. âWhat did I tell you about standing up for yourself, hmm cariño?â
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 Miguelâs eyes trail down to your lips once again. He lets out a deep hum as you lick them nervously.Â
âI- sheâs not that mean to me.â You whisper out in the older womanâs defense. You cannot help the way your lashes flutter as you try to meet his eyes.Â
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.Â
âYouâre blocking the doorway, cariño. The ice cream I got you is going to melt.â
Your blush returns from the pet name and you stutter out an apology as you rush inside his apartment. Itâs warm, and youâre 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.Â
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.Â
âI thought the whole point was that I was supposed to help you put the groceries away, not eat them.âÂ
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.Â
âYou can help me by sitting prettily and keeping me company. Tell me about your day.âÂ
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.Â
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 Miguelâs 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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
âContinue with the story, querida. You donât sound like you finished.â
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 youâre untouched and he is the only person who has seen you like this.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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
Join the Taglist
#cherry's requestsđ#miguel o'hara#miguel oâhara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel ohara x you#across the spiderverse#atsv miguel#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 x you#miguel spiderman#miguel o'hara smut#miguel x reader#miguel spiderverse#miguel ohara#spiderman 2099#miguel atsv#miguel o hara#miguel x you#spider man 2099#spiderman 2099 spiderverse#miguel ohara x reader#cherry's specials!đ
3K notes
·
View notes
Note
regarding the whole thing where jazz doesn't realize prowl's whole self is a living, feeling being... the cross-cultural miscommunication potential is also how jazz and prowl could end up in a confusing situationship. Like Jazz would probably think nothing of being super touchy, and have zero respect for personal space, because to him it's *not* touch or personal space! a pilot making his mecha hang all over another pilot's mecha is just normal military misuse-of-equipment horseplay!
(like making your mecha slap another guy's mecha on its butt is solidly funny joke territory, not sexual harrassment. if we humans had mechas in real life, this is the kind of shit the pilots would constantly be doing, lbr)
So you end up with a scenario where Prowl's making friends with this weird new guy who's always getting very close, and who is touching him a lot, and it all comes across as very intimate and flirtatious, and maybe even scandalous. Except Jazz never actually asks him out or makes a real move, and Prowl is going through all the stages of gay panic and confusion.
Just Jazz consytantly unknowingly being this huge heartbreaker tease, and Prowl is just s u f f e r i n g.
--
Imagine the accidental flirting, too! Like Jazz is super impressed by this Prowl guy's mecha, so he's trying to talk shop with the other pilot (or so he thinks).
Jazz: "Wow, that build you have is great! Really impressive detailing. Who did the work?"
Prowl, well-known cold construct, confused and oddly flattered: "Um, a factory in Petrex did my construction?"
Jazz, who has never heard of Petrex but also failed geography in high school, trying not to look dumb in front of this impressive 'pilot': "Oh, Petrex, sure! Well, they did a great job!"
Prowl, now totally convinced this guy is hitting on him, flustered: "Th--thanks?"
Jazz, who would like to have a competent partner to fight evil aliens, decides he needs to poach this pilot to work with him. So he slings his mecha's arm around the other mecha's shoulder, leans in real close: "You know, you and I would make a great team!"
Prowl: *crashes from full blown gay panic*
--
Sorry for spamming your ask box with so much brain rot but holy shit do I love all the potential of the AU you came up with, I can't stop thinking about it, I had to shake some of these ideas out of my brain to share!
Yes yes ABSOLUTELY YES
Also the fact that for pilots opening the chest plates is the same as open a door but for Cybertronians it means MARRY ME RIGHT NOW ahahahaha
(Or Amica endure too. But point stands hehe it's very intimate gesture)
664 notes
·
View notes
Text
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 đł 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?
#adas hard hours#my jjun đŠđ ââË.â#txt smut#txt hard hours#txt hard thoughts#txt yeonjun#yeonjun smut#yeonjun hard thoughts#yeonjun hard hours
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
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.
âShh!â 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.
âOops,â 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. Youâve only got a few minutes before he has to get back out for FP2, and you intend to make the most of it.
Charlesâ 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.
âIâve been thinking about this all morning,â he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear.
âMe too,â 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 youâre 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.
âYouâre so beautiful,â 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.
âI donât think we have time for that, chĂ©rie,â he chuckles regretfully.
You pout playfully. âI guess youâll just have to owe me later.â
âI guess I will.â
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.
âThat was ...â You search for the right word.
âIncredible,â he supplies with a grin, kissing you softly.
You smile against his lips. âI was going to say smoking hot, but incredible works too.â
He laughs, drawing back to pull his shirt on. You start to do the same but pause with your shirt in hand, listening.
âDid you hear that?â You ask.
Charles stills, head cocked. âHear what?â
You try the door handle. It doesnât budge. Dread trickles down your spine.
âI think someone must have locked the door from the outside,â you say slowly.
Charles tries the handle too with the same result. He pounds a fist on the door. âHey! Weâre stuck in here!â
No response comes from the other side. Charlesâ brow furrows worriedly.
You dig in your pocket for your phone to call for help, only to find it missing. âI must have dropped my phone on the way,â you realize.
Charles pats himself down too, shaking his head. âMineâs still in the garage. No service in here anyway.â
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. âItâs okay,â he soothes, though he looks concerned too. âSomeone will come eventually.â
You nod, leaning your head on his shoulder. His solid warmth comforts you. At least youâre not alone.
âWhat do we do now?â You wonder aloud.
Charlesâ eyes glint with mischief. âWell, we seem to have some time to kill ...â
You give him a coy smile. âI can think of a few ways to pass the time.â
His eyes darken, hands tightening on your hips. âCan you now?â
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 youâre both shirtless, he pauses to look at you, desire burning in his gaze. âSo beautiful,â 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 youâre squirming with need.
âCharles, please ...â 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.
âYouâre so wet already, mon cĆur,â he murmurs. His deft fingers slip beneath the panties to stroke your slick flesh. You cry out, clutching at his shoulders.
âShh, we have to be quiet,â 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.
âThatâs it, let go for me,â 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.
âIncredible,â he smiles against your mouth.
You lean your forehead against his, catching your breath. âYour turn,â you say with a suggestive wiggle of your eyebrows.
He grins. âI thought we didnât have time?â
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.
âWeâll make time.â
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.
âPutain,â 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.
âSo good, just like that,â 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.
âIâm close,â 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.
âYou are incredible,â he tells you fervently when you separate. âThat was ...â
âIncredible?â You supply cheekily.
He laughs. âIâm going to need some new adjectives for you.â
âI believe there are other ways to thoroughly demonstrate your appreciation for me,â you smirk cheekily.
He smiles, hands coming up to grip your hips. âI live to serve.â
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.
Charlesâ eyes are glued to you, watching reverently as you ride him. His hands span your waist, guiding your movements.
âYou feel like heaven,â 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. Charlesâ 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 Charlesâ 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.
Youâre completely lost in him when the door handle starts wiggling.
âOh shit!â 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.
âWell, well. What do we have here?â Carlos asks with a laugh.
âWe, uh, got locked in,â you stammer.
âBy accident,â Charles adds quickly.
Carlos shakes his head, still chuckling. âYou two are terrible at keeping your hands off each other. Might want to work on that before the race.â
You feel yourself blushing bright red. Charles clears his throat and avoids Carlosâ eyes.
âRight, well ⊠thanks for letting us out, mate,â he mumbles.
Carlos smirks and claps Charles on the back. âNo problem. Oh, and Charles? Your race suit is inside out.â
With that, he walks off down the hallway, laughing loudly.
Charles glances down and curses under his breath. You canât help but dissolve into giggles too.
He shoots you a rueful grin. âWorth it.â
You smile and kiss him sweetly. âSo worth it.â
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
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 scenarioÂ
warning(s): none, i think so? except for clueless keiji and not proof-reading
authorâs note: akaashi is just a major green flag in this (every haikyu!! boy is đ) i feel too bad to write them red-flag-y.
choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi
youâve known akaashi for quite some time, starting from your last year of fukurodani academy and then serendipity brought you both ended up being each otherâs 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, youâve 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.Â
âkeiji, iâm back!â you set your things respectively on the table, and akaashi nods with a smile on his face in acknowledgement.
âoookay, so hereâs your todayâs snack, I hope youâll like itâ you grin, tapping on the box before pushing it to his side as he receives it and casually opens it while speaking.
âhmm? are those sketches of our poster? you can always edit them on the computer, why the effort?â he chuckled softly before completely unwrapping the bento box.
âIâm not good at designing and stuff. I may draw as I like and youâll be the one to edit it on the computer.â 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.
âthis looks amazing.â 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.
#i'm back people#txt submitted !!#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x reader#haikyu x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu angst#haikyuu!!#akaashi keiji x reader#akaashi x reader#akaashi fluff#akaashi keiji#haikyuu akaashi#hq akaashi#akaashi angst#akaashi keji x reader#haikyuu x you#haikyƫ!!#haikyuu hurt/comfort#haikyuu fic#haikyu fluff#haikyuu time skip
886 notes
·
View notes
Text
since forever
(buddie) (1.3k words) at no point in time while writing this did i have a single plan for where it was going. it's soft, it's sweet, it has minor spoilers for the blair witch project (1999)
Bizarrely, the first thing that occurs to Eddie post-realization is that he lied to a priest. The thought startles a laugh out of him. Whoops.
He feels good. Likeâshockingly good. Light and optimistic and free, everything heâs been trying to let in since Father Brian gave him the go ahead to stop punishing himself, whichâ
It isnât actually that he needed permission, especially not from a priest. Or maybe he did.
All he really knows is that this joy heâs letting in? It doesnât hurt. It doesnât hurt him, or Chris or Buck or anyone else he loves. So when Eddie finally realizes why heâs been putting Buck in his own category for years, he doesnât even try to put it back in the box.
He loves Buck. He wants Buck. And heâs allowed to want. Itâs a good thing, even. And speaking of Buckâ
His best friend/the love of his freaking life is staring at him like heâs grown two heads. Which, fair. Heâs not entirely sure where they are in the movie, but as far as he recalls there isnât much in the way of comedy in The Blair Witch Project.
Itâs justâBuck was sitting on the literal edge of his seat, pillow clutched protectively to his chest, staring at the TV with eyes wider than dinner plates. Who in their right mind could see something like that and come to any conclusion other than love?
Buck pauses the movie.
âDo not tell me you think this,â he says, gesturing at the screen where, oof, yeah, a young woman is sobbing in terror, âisnât scary.â
âNo, no,â Eddie replies, âvery scary.â
Buck snorts. âYouâre such an asshole,â he says, but itâs wrapped in one of those warm grins that give him away every time.
Eddie hums agreeably.
âAlright, fine,â Buck says. He scoots closer until heâs flush against Eddieâs side. Itâs really not that much of a scoot. âIf youâre gonna go all brave strong man on me, I get to use you as a shield.â
âI guess I can live with that,â Eddie sighs. He wraps an arm around Buckâs shoulders, just because he wants to.
He can feel Buckâs exhale as he settles against his shoulder, and for all the times theyâve touched before, this feels different. Maybe it isnât, though. Maybe Eddieâs just different.
As the tension in the movie ramps, Buck burrows further and further into Eddie. He kicks his feet up onto the couch and twists so that Eddieâs forearm falls from his shoulder and drapes across his chest instead. Itâs maybe the most comfortable Eddieâs ever been.
On screen, the two remaining characters creep into a seemingly abandoned house. On the couch, Buck squeaks and grabs Eddieâs hand. This, he decides, is his new favorite movie. Â Â
âWeâre never going hiking again,â Buck declares as the credits roll.
âSure,â Eddie says, shrugging with the shoulder that isnât currently occupied by Buckâs head. âUntil you see a cool trail on Instagram.â
âIâm serious!â Buck says. He tilts his head back until he can kind of make eye contact with Eddie. âI am not getting Blair Witched.â
Eddie hums, pretending to think about it. âHow about we just⊠never go hiking in Maryland?â he proposes.
Buck grins up at him, and oh, Eddie has never wanted to kiss someone as much as he does in this exact moment.
âDeal,â Buck says. He sits back up and rests his head back against Eddieâs shoulder.
Thereâs a long stretch of quiet where Buck plays with his fingers and Eddie revels in the feeling of it. He thinksâheâs almost certainâthat he could ask Buck for anything right now and heâd say yes.
Kiss me.
Move in with me.
Marry me.
His lips tick into a small smile at the thought, but he takes it no further.
âHey, Eds?â Buck asks quietly.
The TV screen has shut itself off, leaving the room in semi-darkness, cut only by the light of the streetlamps outside.
âYeah?â
âSomethingâs different,â he says. Itâs not a question.
âIt is,â Eddie acknowledges.
âGood different?â
Eddie considers for a moment. Something about the hour, the darkness, Buckâs warmth against his side, makes him feel brave. He presses the smallest, softest of kisses into Buckâs hair.
âGood different,â Eddie confirms.
âOh,â Buck breathes.
âGood âohâ?â Eddie asks teasingly.
Buck flicks one of Eddieâs fingers in recompense. âIf I didnât know you better, Iâd think you were fishing for something,â he says.
âIf I am?â
Buck takes a shaky breath. âThen Iâm gonna need you to spell it out for me, Eds.â
He sits up and turns to face Eddie directly, and as much as Eddie misses the warmth of his body, he wants to look Buck in the eye for this part.
âI love you,â Eddie says.
Buckâs lips part in an awed sort of surprise.
âIâm in love with you,â he continues. âI have been, for years, I think. I just⊠wasnât ready to let myself look at it.â
âEddie,â Buck says, already a little wrecked.
âYou donât have to say anything,â Eddie reassures. âIâm not going anywhere.â
âNo, Iââ Buck says quickly, stumbling over his words. âI didnâtâIâve never evenââ He looks down and his expression shifts, like he didnât realize he was still holding on to Eddieâs hand. âYou love me?â Buck asks, looking back up, eyes shining in the yellow glow of the streetlamps.
âYeah,â Eddie says softly. âMore than I think I knew was possible.â
Buck exhales in a punched-out kind of way. He raises a hand to Eddieâs face and ghosts two fingers along his cheekbone and down the line of his jaw. âI didnâtâI didnât know I could,â he breathes.
âYou can, Buck,â Eddie says. âWhatever you want, itâsââ
Buck surges forward and cuts him off with a kiss, and if there was a single doubt left in Eddieâs mind, this wouldâve extinguished it. Itâs a little messy, a little awkward, and the angleâs not quite right, butâ
Itâs Buck, so itâs perfect.
He pulls back, gasping for air. âIâIâm sorry, I shouldnât haveââ
Eddie catches one of his hands and rubs his thumb in soothing circles on Buckâs wrist. âDonât be,â Eddie says softly. âItâs okay. If you need timeââ
âNo!â Buck says quickly. âOrâmaybe? I justââ He blows out a sharp breath.
âHey,â Eddie says, ducking his head until Buck meets his eye again. âI told you once that you didnât need to be anything for anybody. That includes me, okay?â
âJesus, Eddie,â Buck says.
âIâm just saying, you donât have to make any decisions tonight. You donât even have to want,â Eddie says, gesturing between them in lieu of finishing his sentence.
Buck sags a little. âOf course I want,â he whispers.
Warmth floods Eddieâs chest and overflows into his stomach. âYeah?â he asks.
A slow smile spreads across Buckâs face. âYeah,â he says. âI really do.â
Eddie has known happiness before, felt it in small bursts and long stretches. But what heâs feeling nowâitâs blindingly bright, brilliant and beautiful and free of fear in a way heâs not sure heâs ever experienced.
âCan I kiss you again?â Buck asks breathily.
Eddie nods, not quite sure he can trust his tongue anymore.
This time, Buck leans forward deliberately. He cups Eddieâs face in his hands and tucks his nose against Eddieâs before carefully brushing their lips together. Itâs featherlight and maddening in the best possible way.
He presses his lips against Eddieâs again, then teases them open with his tongue andâ
God, if this is how it was always supposed to feel, Eddieâs pretty sure there are a few more revelations coming his way in the near future. For now, though, he just leans in.
âOh!â Buck exclaims, popping back suddenly. âI love you, too,â he says. Thereâs something like wonder coloring his tone and writing itself across his face. âI reallyâEddie, I think Iâve loved you forever.â
Itâs not possible, not really. As difficult as it is to remember what it was like before his life became intertwined with Buckâs, that before still exists. Eddie knows that. But in his heartâheâs pretty sure his atoms started loving Buckâs at the beginning of the universe.
âYeah,â Eddie says, drawing Buck back in. âMe too.â
521 notes
·
View notes