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meiieiri · 6 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 [gojo satoru]

synopsis: in every other universe and lifetime he has yet to lead, megumi will always cherish the painfully brief time he felt the warmth of a proper family and would have gladly referred to himself as the son of the strongest.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader | song inspo: chemtrails over the country club, scott street | visuals: megumi’s jacket

warnings: angst-ish, canon-compliant violence (mostly caused by our pookie wookie megumi who doesn’t tolerate scumbag bullies), mentions of bullying, and possible (bc i’m delulu) character death. | a/n: i just want megumi to have one last moment with his dad please, gege, i’m on my knees here. also hehe, get the title? ya’ll get it? someone please shove that arctic-haired freak to the NORTH! 🥹

Nobara Kugisaki is the classic definition of an Instagram girlie with a passion for fashion.

Honestly, she could appropriately appraise clothes without a second glance, and she could differentiate big fashion brands just by the fabric and silhouette alone even without a brand logo.

It happened on a Monday afternoon while she and Yuji were having a quick coffee in the lounge. Yuji is currently playing one of his Nintendo Switch MMORPG games that he bought from the mall last Saturday while Nobara was scrolling through her phone, swiping left as she watches her mutuals’ Instagram stories. The trio is incomplete today since Megumi mentioned he’ll be running some errands with you and Satoru today.

After positively getting envious of Mei Mei’s supposed extravagant shopping trip in Ginza today, Kugisaki promptly mutes any stories from her for a full twenty four hours. Then, as she swipes left yet again, she nearly drops her phone on the ground which would pretty much set her off on a rampage because she just got its LCD screen fixed. But luckily, she holds onto it.

“Fushiguro has an Instagram account?!”

Yuji himself hits pause on the game he’s playing and leans over the table to see what Kugisaki is talking about. No way. Fushiguro? That sulky, couldn’t-be-bothered-to-care-but-I-actually-do-care embodiment of teenage angst having an Instagram handle? What would he even post on there?

Their questions are answered as Fushiguro’s feed pops up, and it’s filled with his pictures, but that’s not the issue. The two dunderheads didn’t seem to mind that in every photo, Megumi looked like a magazine cover boy, what caught their attention is the apparel he’s wearing.

“What the hell?! He’s wearing Arc’teryx?” Kugisaki couldn’t believe it. She zooms in on the candid shot of Megumi in what looks to be a ski resort and an audible gasp escapes her throat. No way. No frigging way. She does a quick image search and sure enough, she is redirected to Arc’teryx’s official website. See? Kugisaki never misses when it comes to fashion.

Yuji’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when he sees the price tag. “One thousand five hundred US dollars?!”

“And look at this! He’s literally tagged in Gojo and Y/N-sensei’s stories.”

Sure enough, the first they see is Satoru’s story which has a video of you picking out new clothes from the rack for Megumi to try on in the fitting room. You looked so cute and teeny tiny next to the teenager and Kugisaki giggles at the thought you walking around with two literal giants in the mall, one of them being your ward and the other, your arctic-haired husband of three years.

“There’s another one!” Itadori says excitedly. The next is a story you took, it’s a photo of Megumi and Gojo, their backs turned and their hands fully occupied by shopping bags, seemingly unaware of the camera. In the photo, they’re checking out new sneakers in Onitsuka Tiger’s storefront window. In a flash, Kugisaki switches off her phone, and immediately begins to head out the door. “Hey, where’re you going?”

Nobara knows that particular galleria, it should be in Tokyo Midtown. “Out, maybe I could borrow Gojo-sensei’s or Y/N-sensei’s credit card!”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come along?”

Gojo chuckles under his breath. It’s honestly amusing how you won’t normally ask that, given his newfound title as the strongest Jujutsu sorcerer of this generation. A skirmish with a grade two cursed spirit? Pfft. That’s practically child’s play to your white-haired boyfriend. A rogue grade one cursed spirit that turned out to be a special grade? Maybe you’ll sneak some bandages in his bag just in case. Bottom line is you wholeheartedly trust Satoru will always make it out of a mission in one piece.

But here you were seemingly more tense than usual which is incomprehensible because today’s hardly dangerous mission is simple.

Track down the son of Toji Fushiguro.

“I think I got it, babe.” Satoru leans his head in through the rolled down car window to plant a kiss on your forehead. He pats your cheek lovingly, setting off in the direction of the house after taking one last confirmatory look at the address written down in the file sheet. “Well, let’s hope he’s nothing like his dad. Promise you’ll check on me if I don’t come back in an hour?” he teases.

You lightly slap his wrist. Sometimes you wonder how you fell in love with this literal man-child. He’s just so insufferable. Gorgeous in every way but insufferable all the same. “I’m pretty sure a six-year-old boy isn’t gonna try to murder you. If he does, let the record show that I sympathize with him completely.”

“You meanie!”

Sticking his tongue out at you when you blow him a kiss, he disappears into the small street adjacent to the neighborhood’s main road. Coming here, Satoru was uncharacteristically nervous. At the rest stop earlier, you watched the scene tensely from the convenience store window. For once, the obnoxiously loud sorcerer was quiet, hands in his uniform pockets, his cerulean orbs trained on the pavement, his foot kicking the asphalt pebbles on the ground, deep in thought.

To be honest, he had no obligation to make the journey here even if this entire affair was born from Toji Fushiguro’s final words that sounded almost like a desperate plea. “In two or three years, my kid will be sold off to the Zenin clan. Do whatever you will with that.” Satoru doesn’t know why — he’s not exactly the brightest when it comes to his interpersonal relationship skills so he could be wrong about this — but those twenty one words sounded more like four simple words: “Please save my son.”

And so, in a matter of only thirty minutes, you spot Satoru from afar, his hand protectively around his would have been assassin’s six-year-old son as they walk back to the car. Looks like the little boy had made his choice.

And you could see with the way Satoru protectively held Megumi back from crossing the street on a green light that he has also made his choice. Just thirty minutes ago, you were bantering with the version of Satoru that would be reluctant to go out of his way to help someone, now, you were face to face with someone new, someone who has been changed almost in a blink of an eye.

Stepping out of the car, you make your way towards the pair, a faint smile on your lips at the sight of Megumi’s tiny backpack slung over Satoru’s shoulder. Your boyfriend gently nudges Megumi over in your direction, introducing him and you crouch down to meet the little boy’s hesitant eyes. “Hi there, Megumi.” Your voice is as carefully gentle as a psalm, you didn’t want to overwhelm him more than he probably already is. “I’m Y/N.”

“Hello.”

“Ice cold,” Satoru whistles, ruffling Megumi’s hair. But you figured that would be the case. A quiet breath of laughter comes from Satoru when you smile endearingly at the kid’s curtness.

As the three of you settle into the backseat, you and Satoru share a fond look when Megumi who has acted all guarded and silent the entire ride home from Chiba begins to drift off to sleep, his arms hugging his backpack but he was dangerously teetering off the seat, so Satoru gently picks him up, allowing him to lay his tiny head on his shoulder.

“He’s gonna stick around with us for a long time, huh?” you whispered, rubbing Megumi’s back as he slept soundly in Satoru’s arms, the three of yu blissfully unaware of just how much your life has changed. You came to Chiba and there was only you and Satoru, now, you were three. And though you know Satoru doesn’t intend to step in as a guardian, you could tell he was slowly settling into the inevitability of that fact. This boy needed a new start, a home, and people to guide him as he grew.

“…Yeah, he will,” Satoru answers, his eyes filled with wonder himself. Earlier when he first met Megumi, he told him to become strong enough to keep up with him.

But for now, maybe this was enough.

For the most part, Megumi is a good kid.

He diligently helps you with the housework without needing to be told twice the same way he diligently trains under Gojo’s tutelage. He studies hard despite only being in primary school, and he’s well-mannered in every way…at least to you, the kid won’t pass up the opportunity to scowl and call Satoru a lanky freak when he’s being pestered by him.

Because he’s so young to be sleeping in Tokyo Jujutsu High’s dormitories, you and Satoru settled into the idea of renting an apartment near the campus premises. Since you and Satoru are eighteen years old now, it was high time that the two of you start growing into your roles as functional adults which means leasing an apartment, paying the bills, growing your careers and taking your relationship to the next level.

Of course, you and Satoru both piled in cash when it comes to raising Megumi. Satoru mostly shouldered rent, monthly utilities and Megumi’s tuition, being a rich guy like him, those were practically small beans to him. You, on the other hand, shouldered the groceries, Megumi’s clothes and other needs.

One day, while on your way to pick up Megumi, you pass by the trendy Daikanyama district due to a road closure leading to the Ebisu district where Megumi’s primary school is. The inconvenience is nothing short of serendipitous as you and your boyfriend really did need a quick breather and some time for yourselves.

“I feel like I’m gonna turn into a wine dad very soon. Who would have known enrolling a kid would be that tough?” Satoru huffs, his hand protectively around your waist as you walked past boutique after boutique. “Like how am I supposed to know what his blood type is for the school clinic record?”

You hummed, sneakily stealing a kiss from him to which he responds to by pulling you closer, and pretending to bite off your ear. “For all the school knew, Megumi is ours. That would explain why they felt a little icky towards us when they saw how young we are back in that parent-teacher meeting.”

“Mmph, fair point. A cute son will come from a handsome father after all—“

“—Oh please. You’re okay at best.”

“You didn’t say that last night when I had you all folde—“

“—Please do not finish that sentence in public.”

Digressing, Satoru sighs, planting a contrite kiss on your warm cheek as the two of you leisurely walk down the picturesque lane of Tokyo’s very own version of Soho. Once you reach the main road, a certain outerwear apparel store catches your eye. You stop in front of the store window, looking curiously at the displayed winter items. “Megumi’s birthday is coming up soon, no? We should get him something nice.”

“Hmm? Oh right, the 22nd is coming up,” Satoru hums thoughtfully, leading you inside the store. There, the two of you split up to look for a nice gift for Megumi. There, he is approached by a staff member who asks if he’s looking for anything in particular. Satoru clears his throat, nodding. “I’m looking to buy a gift for my son.”

Somehow, you heard that from across the store and you shoot Satoru an amused look when he refers to Megumi as ‘his son’.

“Right, and how old might he be? We have a batch of new arrivals that came in today. They’re perfect for kids aged four and above.” At that, you rejoin Satoru and the sales staff leads you to check out the items at the front of the store. You and Satoru sort through the rack and find one that the two of you agree on: a fleece two-toned gravel winter jacket.

After paying for it, the two of you rush to get to Ebisu elementary school. Making your way to the gate, Megumi instantly spots you and Satoru, the latter being very difficult to miss since he pretty much towered over everyone else.

“Hi, kid, d’you have fun today?” you crouch down to give Megumi a hug. Between you and Satoru, you were the more clingy one towards Megumi, there’s hardly any hesitation in your heart when you pull him in for a warm embrace or carry him in your arms. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind one bit, but if Satoru did any of the those things to him, he’ll probably headbut him.

“It was fine,” Megumi says shyly once you pull away. “Oh and I got a hundred on the math homework you helped me with.”

“You did?” you smiled. “I’m so proud of you, Megumi.” Satoru smiles, going to ruffle Megumi’s hair only for the little boy to duck away from his hand and hide behind you.

Chuckling at the kid’s antics, Satoru concedes, putting up his free hand in surrender while his other one held onto the gift bag you got. Megumi reads the name of the store: “The North Face”. Following Megumi’s gaze, Satoru grins, handing Megumi the bag. “Here, we got you something. Call it an advanced birthday gift.”

Megumi’s expression screamed: “You didn’t have to.” but you don’t miss the look of surprise and gratitude that shined through his features. You gently nudge him to open it and his breath hitches in his throat when he sees the gift you got him — the first gift he’s ever received.

“Happy birthday, Megumi,” you and Satoru greet the little boy, with Satoru helping Megumi to try it on.

That was the first time Megumi initiated a heartfelt hug and the first time he ever included Satoru, his little arms trying their hardest to include the two of you, so you decide to help him out, and your and Satoru’s arms engulf the little one.

“Thank you.”

“I don’t know what happened, but I’m headed there now. Alright, see you soon. I love you.”

Everything happened so quickly. One minute you were in Tokyo Jujutsu High’s teacher lounge organizing the first years’ missions for the next few days when you receive a call from Ebisu elementary school, informing you that Megumi got into a horrible fight and was now in the school clinic ready to be picked up, the next you were dashing out the door hurrying over to the school with your heart pounding in your chest.

There, you are the quintessential picture of a frazzled mother looking for her son in the school clinic.

“Y/N!”

“Megumi,” you breathed, your eyebrows knitting together in worry. Gathering him into your arms, you sit on the tiny hospital bed. “What happened? They said you got into a fight? And where’s your jacket?” He was wearing the jacket you got for him this morning when you and Satoru dropped him off, actually, he’s been wearing it a lot, indicating it’s one of, if not his favorite jacket.

Before Megumi could even speak, it looks like the kid that he got into a tussle with had already tattled on him to his mother and now said mother is furiously berating you and Megumi, not caring if anyone else in the clinic could overhear the scandalous remarks she’s throwing your way.

“I want full disciplinary action against this boy!” the middle aged woman all but screeches to the school’s principal, pointing an accusatory finger at Megumi who doesn’t flinch but you hear him sniffle. He’s never been yelled at like that before.

“Ma’am, please, let’s settle this like two rational adults—“

“—Oh I will, I can’t say the same about you! Are you not the least bit ashamed that you couldn’t teach your son good morals?” She then theatrically goes to place her hands on her son’s shoulders. And you have to be honest, with that bruised lip of his alongside his bleeding nose, Megumi had done some serious damage to the boy.

“I — Megumi is a good kid, not once, have we ever seen him hit someone for no reason—“

“—So you’re saying it’s my son’s fault yours is emotionally unstable? This boy doesn’t need a good talking to, what he needs is psychological intervention!”

“Alright, can everyone just please calm down?” The principal, too, seems visibly uncomfortable with the vile words the other parent was spewing at you like machine gun fire. “We’re all here to fix the problem, not make it worse.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you could tell this conversation has reached an impasse. Clearly, there’s no way you could reach a mutual understanding of what should be done to resolve the issue.

The older woman looks at you in disdain, grumbling under her breath at the humiliation of being scolded, “What should I even expect from an irresponsible woman who got knocked up before she was even an adult?”

“Don’t you dare talk about my wife or my son that way.”

Megumi looks up, tears in his eyes when Satoru strides in, his normally shining blue eyes dark with a fury that cannot be quelled. You can’t even feel the butterflies that went wild in your stomach when he accidentally referred to you as ‘his wife’ without so much as a stutter because you’re honestly this close to chewing the vile woman out. It didn’t matter if she insulted you, but if she does so much as insult and make your boy cry, you and Satoru will give the weasel a matching patch on her scalp where there should have been hair had you not ripped it out.

But now was not the time to prove her right.

People have always judged you and Satoru for being acting parents at such a young age, often giving you rude stares when you’re out and about doing the most menial of things like shopping at the supermarket or spending some time in the kōen, people found your current situation disgusting, borderline immoral, which is why you initially had trouble looking for an elementary school that would properly entertain you, Satoru and Megumi and not dismiss you three as a bunch of kids playing house.

“Satoru…” you rub your boyfriend’s arm soothingly.

“Babe, she insulted you and ‘Gumi,” Satoru whispers sadly. “I can’t just let her do that.”

All of a sudden, Megumi’s voice cuts through the tension in the room. “Daisuke was being mean. He ruined Hana-chan’s project and made her cry.” At that, the kid named Daisuke bites his lip, his skin turning pallid at the revelation. “And when I told him to apologize, he and Kaito…” Megumi whimpers, trailing off. He averts his gaze from your and Satoru’s, feeling guilty.

And right then and there, the story becomes even clearer when an unexpected witness comes to Megumi’s defense.

“Megumi-kun? We found your jacket, it’s not too damaged, but you may want to have your mama and papa wash it when you get home.” The school nurse walks in and hands you the ruined jacket, it had been cut all over but since it’s fleece, the damage isn’t too bad, not only that, it had crayon marks all over it and it smelled of the dumpster.

“…Daisuke and Kaito ruined my jacket and I punched him,” Megumi sniffles. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t apologizing for punching Daisuke, that much you could tell, he was apologizing to you and Gojo for supposedly not taking care of the gift you two got him just last week.

The vile mother scoffs at your son’s apology. “Save your breath, you little liar—“

“—He wasn’t talking to you,” Satoru glares at the woman, effectively shutting her up. “Come on, we’re going home.” With that, Satoru, being careful with him given his sprained wrist, carries Megumi out the clinic. You offer the principal a polite nod, indicating that you’ll cooperate with any sanction she seems fit for Megumi, Kaito and Daisuke, before following Satoru and Megumi to the parking lot. A melancholic smile appears on your lips when you hear Satoru reassuring Megumi that you’ll just wash and mend the jacket once you get home to which, Megumi only buries his face in the crook of his father figure’s neck.

If there is one good thing that happened today, it’s the fact that you proved to yourself and to each other that, no one in this world is allowed to hurt or insult your family.

Satoru wakes up to an empty bed and he doesn’t pretend to wonder where you are. He stays like that for a full minute, simply staring at the ceiling while your side of the bed slowly loses its warmth. He knows you’re hurting, and he knows just how much this entire ordeal has taken from you. First, you had to deal with him being sealed in the Prison Realm, now this…

You really just couldn’t catch a break, could you?

Slowly, Satoru gets up and pads across the hallway, entering a painfully familiar room. The owner of the room has only since recently moved out, but for ten years, this room is one he normally frequented with you, whether it be on Christmas mornings to greet the little prince that occupied such a special place in your heart or on nights when the three of you just simply needed to hold each other, searching for comfort, while you slept.

The door creaks open and Satoru’s eyes well up with tears, his heart plagued by the same emotional turmoil that was haunting you day in and day out. “I just want our boy to come home…I want our son back,” you cried as you held the jacket Megumi had outgrown, the same one he wore almost everyday that winter when he first came to live with you and Satoru.

Instantly, Satoru sits next to you on Megumi’s bed, hushing your cries, kissing away each agonizing tear that slipped from the confines of your sorrowful orbs.

“He must be so scared,” you sniffled, picturing Megumi in the darkest crevices of Sukuna’s soul, trapped and alone. “I don’t even know if he’s alright, if he’s even slept at all or if he’s being tormented by Sukuna day in and day out. What if he’s in pain? What if he’s cold?” you sobbed into your husband’s chest, your cries growing more desperate with each hour Megumi isn’t home safe.

“Shh, shh…I know, sweetheart…I’ll get him back, I promise I’ll bring him home.”

Or he’ll die trying.

Somewhere in the void, Megumi Fushiguro is in a state of catatonic stasis. Is this what limbo feels like? He just wants to sleep, to give in and let Sukuna’s soul consume him.

It’s so cold…so…cold.

No! He can’t give up, more than his desire to tap out and just live and let die…he wants to go home where he belongs.

You and Satoru must be so worried about him and he was worried too, what if something had happened out there while he was here? What if…something happened to the two of you when he hasn’t even done a thing to thank you both for all the love you’ve given him throughout these years? So with his last inch of consciousness remaining, he spends it on a silent plea.

“Mom…dad…please come find me.”

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coldfanbou · 9 months

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Happy Endings

Nayeon is going to be giving us a nice massage in this fic.

Length 2.1K

Nayeon x Mreader

You stretch your body, feeling your muscles tense up and hearing a few popping sounds as you tilt your head to the side. Your body felt tight, and you thought you might get a massage. You leave bed and head to the kitchen, remembering the flyer you got the other day. A new massage parlor had opened recently, and people were standing outside handing out flyers. Looking at it now, you see everything they have to offer, including prices. You felt like you should treat yourself at least once by getting the best package; at the same time, it was a new place where you didn’t know if the service was good. You got dressed and headed out toward the parlor; you’d have to learn firsthand if it was worth going all out.

Outside the massage parlor is the same woman from last time. She wore short jean shorts, a tight-fitting top with a logo on her chest, and a ribbon in the middle. You head toward her, and she prepares to hand you another flyer once she spots you. You point to the massage parlor and see a smile form on her face. Her front teeth stick out, making her look like a rabbit. You thought it was cute and didn’t notice when she grabbed your arm and pulled you inside. “Welcome to the Twice as Good Massage Parlor! We’re twice as good as any other!” She says as she moves behind the counter. “Are you interested in a massage? You can look here for your options. I’m Nayeon.” Nayeon points to a copy of the flyer with their options.

“Do you work here by yourself?” You ask as you look at their options again.

“No, there are nine of us. We just opened up, and business is pretty slow, so it’s me and Momo for today.” Nayeon sees you looking down at the list of massages and points to the most expensive. “You look like you’re really stressed. I suggest this one.” You glance up at Nayeon and see her sticking her tongue out as she smiles. Again, you thought it was cute.

“I’m not sure. It’s my first time here, so I have to see if you can do a good job before taking one of the more expensive options. I think I’ll go with a basic full-body massage.”

Nayeon’s smile turns into a playful frown. “Okay. Maybe next time you’ll go with my recommendation. Follow me.” Nayeon leads you down an aisle of rooms, each one with a name above the doorway. You reach the end and see Nayeon’s name written on top. “Ah! I nearly forgot. Stay here.” Nayeon hurries to the back, where you overhear her conversation with who you assume to be Momo. “I got a customer. You have to be in the front now, Momo.” You hear Momo groan loudly, “Don’t be like that! We can’t look empty.” The voices grow louder until Nayeon reappears, dragging another woman by the arm. Momo was a bustier woman, her shirt barely covering her cleavage. Momo bows to you and gives you a smile before heading to the front while Nayeon takes you into her room. She shuts the door behind you. “You can remove your clothes and place them on the basket in the corner.” Nayeon stays standing before the door, watching you carefully.

“Are you going to watch me strip?”

“Oh, sorry. I’ll step out.” She says before leaving the room. You remove your clothes and lie on the massage table, using a small towel to cover yourself. Nayeon steps back in a moment later. “Ready?” She asks while grabbing oils and towels from a cabinet at the room's far end. You give her a slight nod and watch as she covers her hands in oil. Nayeon grabs your arm and moves it to the side. You feel her cold hands move along your arm, giving it small squeezes as she moves toward your hand. You glance at Nayeon; your eyes move down from her face, looking at her body. Nayeon walks over to your other arm and does the same thing. “Can you flip onto your back?” You do as you’re told and feel Nayeon straddle you as she massages your back. You feel her big hands move along your back, covering it in oil. “Is this good?” She asks as she applies some pressure on your back.

“That’s fine.” Nayeon's hands glide along your back as she moves down your body, moving along to your legs. Soon enough, she asks you to flip onto your back. Nayeon glances at you as she finishes up her massage; with a smile on her face, she moves her hand to the towel covering your crotch.

“You’re actually the first customer we’ve had since we opened.” She says nervously. “So I’ll give you a little sneak peek at what the higher tier massages offer. “ Her hand slithers under the towel and wraps around your shaft. It was soft as it moved up and down your shaft. You groan and grow hard in Nayeon’s hand. Her smile gets bigger as she speeds up. “You don’t mind if I touch myself, do you?” You shake your head, and Nayeon doesn’t miss a step as she puts her other hand down her shorts. She bites her lip lightly as her fingers push past her lips. Nayeon’s soft coos turn you on. You feel yourself getting close to cumming already. You hadn’t expected something like this and weren’t prepared. Nayeon felt your cock begin to throb, and she slowed down her strokes. “Don’t cum yet.” She moaned. “I want to cum too.” Nayeon took her time and began to play with her clit, trying to get to her climax quickly. Once she was close, Nayeon kept her movements in sync. Your moans filled the room as you came. Nayeon’s body jerked, but she still kept her hand on your cock, milking it and covering her hand in your cum. You lay there, recovering as Nayeon brings her hand to her lips and licks your cum off it. She goes as far as pushing her fingers into her mouth and sucking them clean. “I hope you enjoyed your massage. I’ll let you get dressed now.” Nayeon leaves you alone in the room; after you get dressed, you go to the front, where she’s waiting. After paying, you tell her you’d like to schedule an appointment for tomorrow.

“What package would you like for your massage tomorrow?” You point to the highest-tier package, bringing a smile to Nayeon’s face. “I’ll be waiting for you then.” You leave and head home for the day, thinking about the potential of the massage.

When tomorrow comes, you rush to the parlor and see Momo outside lazily waving her hand around as she tries to get people to take one. You pass by her and step inside to see Nayeon waiting in a lavender robe. “You’re here!” Nayeon grabs your hand and takes you back to her room. “I have everything set up. Please take off your clothes.” This time, you undress in front of Nayeon, watching as she takes your body in. Her eyes move upward until they meet yours, and she blushes. Nayeon felt embarrassed that you watched her stare at you. Laying down on the massage table, you watch Nayeon as she takes off her robe. The small undoes the knot holding it together before letting the top fall off her shoulders. She was teasing you. Nayeon lowers her arms slowly, revealing more and more skin to you. Her small, perky breasts popped out first, with her small brown nipples already hard. Nayeon’s proceeded to drop her robe, letting you see her slit. She was already wet, her juices coating her inner thighs. The naked woman grabs an oil bottle and twists off the cap before pouring it onto her chest. She places the bottle on the floor before rubbing the oil onto the rest of her body, covering her stomach and most of her thighs.

She climbs onto the table and straddles your leg. “I hope you’re ready for your full body massage.” Nayeon slides herself along your leg; her eyes closed at times. She let out soft moans as she coated your leg in a mixture of oil and her juices. Nayeon rocks her hips back and forth, her moans growing louder. Seeing Nayeon pleasure herself using your leg turns you on; she notices, too. She grasps your cock gently, placing her thumb just under the head of your cock. “I’ll make sure to massage this with a very special place.” She says in a near whisper. Nayeon lays herself on top of you; as she slides up and down your body, you feel her hard nipples drag along your chest. With your cock trapped between her body and yours, you get small bits of pleasure. Nayeon gets by your ear, “You can touch me all you’d like.” With Nayeon’s permission, you begin to move your hands along her body. You find her ass soon enough, giving it a quick squeeze. Nayeon coos into your ear, telling you to be rougher. You follow her orders, giving her ass a rough squeeze. Nayeon’s moan was louder. “Would you like to get to the good part?”

You nod and watch Nayeon straddle you, her chest shining with the oil she put on. Nayeon slips your cock between her lips, moving back and forth slowly. It makes you groan. Once Nayeon stops, she presses the head against her cunt, “Pull me onto it.” You place your hands on Nayeon’s waist and drag her onto your cock. Her head rolls back, and she fills the room with her moans as her pussy swallows your cock. Nayeon grinds against you, groaning as she feels your cock move inside her. “Let me take care of the rest.” Nayeon lifts herself until just the tip remains inside her before slamming herself down. She lets out a great roar before beginning to bounce on your cock. Nayeon’s tight pussy massages every part of your cock, from the shaft to the head; it rubs every part of you.

Not wanting to waste the chance to touch Nayeon more, you lean up and begin to play with her tits. Her perky breasts fit nicely in your hands. You begin to give Nayeon a massage, squeezing her tits. She rests her hands on your shoulders as she bounces on your cock. Nayeon has her eyes closed; she’s reveling in the pleasure. Nayeon’s walls begin to tighten around your cock, and her body begins to jerk. “This is the best part.” Nayeon moans in a near whisper. Her eyes flutter open, and she leans in, stealing a kiss. Your hands move along her smooth back as she plants herself firmly on your cock. You lift yourself and roll Nayeon onto her back, nearly falling off the massage table in the process.

You start thrusting into Nayeon; she turns her head to the side and starts to whine. With a grimace on her face, Nayeon can’t contain herself any longer and cums on your cock. Your cock begins to throb; each thrust is a little bit faster and deeper as you chase your climax. Nayeon’s walls refuse to let you go easily, making you put more effort into pulling out as you cum. You manage it, though, and cover Nayeon’s stomach in your baby batter; some of it shoots further out onto her chest. Nayeon’s chest rises slowly as she scoops some cum off her body and brings it to her mouth. She makes a show of drinking your cum. “I hope this massage was everything you thought it would be. Let me rest a little bit before we go to the front.”

After some time, you and Nayeon head to the front; she wears her short robe to the front. After paying, Nayeon explains that each person who works at the parlor is good at something in particular: "Remember how I told you there are nine of us? Well, I’ll give you a little piece of information. Jihyo is the best at titjobs. Mina is great with anal if you ever want to try that. Chaeyoung has the best lips and throat if you want to get a blowjob. Tzuyu, our youngest, has some nice thighs she can use to massage you. Momo is an all-arounder; she has nice tits and a great ass too. She just needs someone to bring out her inner desire. Sana has great endurance, and Dahyun has the softest skin, so if you want her to use her body for a Nuru massage, she’s the one you want. Jeongyeon and I usually work together to put on the best show, but she’s been out recently. Anyway, I hope you come back soon.” Nayeon waves you goodbye. With your new information, you debate about who you should try next.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #twice smut #nayeon smut

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tarjapearce · 1 year

Note

Lips anon! AHHH MY HEART 😭 💕 good, good food.

I love how the wife grabbed Miguel's ass lol brought me back to my childhood with my parents when my mother would get upset at my father.

This muggy ass weather stewed up an idea. Miguel and the wife taking the kids to the pool, and she gers jealous because there are more eyes on him than she likes lol

Jealous wife? 👀👀 yes.

-----

Pool day. A little break from everything, school, work and stressful situations. Despite you protesting for not wearing the swimming suits Miguel had gotten you, he finally convinced you to wear his favorite. The white one, that fit a bit too snug on your breast and made your rear to look bigger and bouncier.

All clad underneath a pair of shorts and one of his shirts, a long a hat and sandals, a fanny pack on your side filled with sunblock, hair ties and sunglasses. Miguel wore a pair of swimming trunks with spider prints motifs, sandals, his sun glasses and a deep blue button shirt.

Floaties, towels, extra clothes, snacks and foods were packed in the car, a 2018 Red Ford Escape.

Gabi wore her swimming suit under the shorts and flowery button shirt. Benjamin wore his trunks and a little shirt with a spider logo.

------

Upon arriving, you looked for a spot next to the pool, and unpacked everything. Benjamin was held to your side, Gabriela was helping Miguel to set up the table and the things they would use for later.

The rest was too into their little world that you couldn't help but notice the stares of other women glancing at Miguel, that had just removed his shirt and slid his glasses back ontop of hid head.

"Let's go swim, Papa!"

"Uh uh, wait." You caked some of the sunscreen on her arms, face and every visible part of her body. She ran to the pool.

"Here, lemme." Miguel took Benjamin, and it was like a sight for sore eyes for the women staring. You frowned, and lathered up little Benji with sunscreen. You then moved to Miguel and smooched him a bit deeper you had intended to. Not that he minded.

A woman scoffed and turned her eyes.

------

Your husband was handsome, and of course that the stares and ogglings at his way we're expected. Beefy, handsome, tall and a dilf father. He was playing with Benjamin and one of the floaties, letting his feet to kick on the water, as Gabriela was trying her hand at diving as she remained close. You just watched as you were sat under the umbrella, donning yourself with sunscreen.

The stares turned more shameless, when he submerged himself and slicked his hair back. The same woman that had scoffed, bit her lip at the sight.

The Audacity.

You had enough. You removed your sunglasses and your shorts, sat before him on the pool, your legs soaking.

Miguel approached and placed a kiss on your knees, holding Benjamin's floaty with one hand.

"God, it's awfully hot today."

"Get in, water is nice." His hand was placed on one of your thighs.

"Benji looks so adorable" You mumbled casually as you removed your shirt, Miguel had to do a double take before actually process what was happening. His mouth gaped softly. Good, you had his full attention. He licked his lips and with one hand pulled you effortlessly in the water, earning a triumphant squeal. from you

He kissed you deeply and smirked.

"¿'Tas celosa?" (You jealous?)

"Shut up."

He laughed and squeezed your butt underneath water, making your cheeks flush deeper, the hot weather disguising your embarrassment.

"No les hagas caso. Im yours anyway." (Ignore them.)

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #💋 anon #Soccer Family ⚽🕷️#gabi o'hara #jealous reader #t writes✨#atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x you

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moondustwritesblog · 28 days

Text

shaw pack headcanons

darlin would hug sam’s pillow whenever he would go to clan meetings. he would come home to them sleeping, hugging it and just looks at them looking so peaceful until they would turn in their sleep facing away

david likes donuts, the expensive kind. when angel came home from a business trip and have a box full of them, they thought it would not be even touched. that mf was half empty the next morning

angel: i thought you were going to work last night?

david: i was

angel: by eating my donuts?!

david: i got hungry

angel: david!

sam likes looking at darlin when they’re doing domestic things and they would always catch him. he would make excuses. they won’t mind it. and it has actually become a habit (or maybe because it’s a nice contrast to whatever other things that sam would need to look after them for and them not even noticing while doing it but that’s just me)

darlin, folding the bedsheets: you’re staring, cowboy

sam: can’t help it, you’re wearin’ my flannel

darlin: it’s our flannel now

angel likes wearing sweaters, baabe likes wearing cardigans, sweetheart (milo and david) likes wearing leather jackets and darlin (and sam) likes wearing flannels

asher likes wearing hoodies but not the one with the shaw security logo on it. he feels like his still at work

angel likes how to train your dragon and asher likes the loud house

under the cut due to weapon mention

if the listeners would wield a weapon, angel would be on explosives, baabe on bow and arrow, stealth on guns and darlin on knives (and they would be like that character who would take a while to actually unload all of it in a comical way no matter how big or small it is)

david: tank, knives on the table. now.

tank: ugh, fine *takes one out*

david, raising a brow: is that all?

tank: give me a minute *takes out all of them, some not even supposed to fit in their clothes or pockets* there

david: you finished?

tank: oh, almost forgot *puts either the biggest or the smallest knife in existence on top of the others, overflowing the table* now, i’m done

the pack: what the fuck-

#redacted david #redacted angel #redacted asher #redacted babe #redacted milo #redacted sweetheart #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted tank #redacted shaw pack #redacted audio #redactedverse

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oneforthemunny · 5 months

Text

a teeny tiny modern!eddie blurb i had rattling around my noggin. loosely based on real events (my ex is a pos and modern!eddie is an angel lol), but made me giggle when i thought about it. kinda smutty but nothing graphic more-so just alluded to. enjoy <3

“Hey, pretty girl.” Eddie grinned, half-lidded hazy eyes lighting up when you walked through the door.

“Hi,” You mumbled, hip bumping the door to push it closed, shoulders heavy after the exhaustion of the day.

“Did you have a good day?” Eddie chirped, flicking his mic up on his headset, pulling it off his messy curls. “Sell lots?”

You snorted lightly, purse sliding off your shoulder onto the coffee table. “Oh, yeah. Dealt with ten year olds wanting foundation matches all day.”

“Ten?” Eddie frowned. “Can ten year olds even wear makeup?”

“Apparently they can. And they’re very particular.” You rolled your eyes, rubbing out the growing knot in your shoulder that was beginning to ache. “Did you empty the dishes?”

“Yep.” Eddie nodded. “Loaded them up for you too, baby. Got you another one of those candles you like. Your stash was runnin’ low.” He smiled proudly.

Your lips twitched, trying to fight back your own flustered grin. It did make your heart flutter, Eddie always did. “Thank you.” You muttered instead. “I’ve gotta get out of these clothes, and I’ll-” You started to lean over the couch, lips hovering over Eddie’s, his parting lightly to fit yours before you stopped. Halted by a familiar smell.

“What- What’s that smell?” You sniffed, turning in the air before your nose found the source. “Are you- Why do you smell like that?”

“Shit, is it bad?” Eddie tugged at his t-shirt, nose pressing towards the underarms of his shirt. “I took a shower today, but then I had to meet up with some people. I didn’t think it was bad-”

“-No, it’s not that.” You snapped, eyes narrowing down at him. “Why do you smell like Bum-Bum Cream?”

Eddie paused, blinking at you. “Bum-Bum?” He repeated, brows lifting. “Is this a joke? Like Up-Dog-”

“-Eddie,” You huffed. “Don’t fuck with me right now. What? Did you have another bitch here?” Your teeth gritted, gaze flickering in seething fury around the apartment for anything- any sign of infidelity.

“What?” Eddie gaped, turning to look at you. “No, c’mon, you know I wouldn’t do that-”

“-Then why do you smell like that?” You screeched, throwing an arm out at him.

“Smell like what?” Eddie countered, voice raising in defense.

“The most recognizable smell in the world? You couldn’t tell your bitch not to wear that-” You smacked the door to your shared bedroom open, halting in the doorway.

“I didn’t fuck anyone!” Eddie followed, throwing his hands up. “Why do you always start this shit? I’ve never-”

Your eyes narrowed, stomping towards the bedside table. There, on Eddie’s side, amongst the phone chargers and empty carts sat a box of tissues next to the familiar yellow tub of cream. Half screwed on, greasy on the lid- recently used.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” You huffed, snatching the jar, grimacing at the slick, greasy substance still left on the lid. Pivoting, you turned to Eddie, hoisting the jar towards him.

Eddie blinked. “What?”

“This is what I’m smelling.” You snapped. “This is Bum-Bum Cream. My Bum-Bum Cream.” You jabbed a manicured nail onto the logo.

“Oh,” Eddie quipped. “Yeah, I did use that.”

“Used it?” You growled. “You used my fucking expensive lotion to jack off?”

Eddie’s cheeks tinged with pink embarrassment, eyes wide and round like a child caught, still with some mischief that made your skin crawl with irritation. “Well,” He started.

“Well?” You gawked at him. “Eddie, this is- You can’t use this!” You unscrewed the lid, mouth falling open at the large scoop that was now missing from the middle. “Are you- Do you know how expensive this is?”

“No.” Eddie admitted, swallowing a smile. “I just thought it was lotion-”

“-You have lotion!” You snapped. “You have your Nivea or whatever-”

“-I ran out!”

“So you use this? My lotion? My expensive lotion?” You growl. “How- How does this not burn your dick off? It’s a fucking fragranced lotion.”

Eddie shrugged, lips curling in a shit eating grin. “It felt kinda nice, actually.”

Your nose curled in disgust. “You’re fucking sick, and you’re buying me a new one.”

“Fine.” Eddie’s hands slid down your arms gently. “I’ll buy you a new one. I swear. I’m sorry, I didn’t know I couldn’t use that one.”

“Don’t use any of my lotions to jack off.” You glared at him. “And put it back when you’re done.” You shove the lotion back at him.

“Alright, alright, hey- look at me, baby, please?” Eddie cooed, lips still curled with a smile you wanted to smack off his face, nerves rattled with annoyance. You glared at him, shoving your work jeans down with a huff, not missing the way Eddie’s eyes lingered.

“I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t mean to. I’ll buy you a new one. We can go right now if you want.” He muttered sweetly, his soft tone making your heart swell.

“No, it’s fine.” You huff, rolling your eyes, pulling your top off. “We can go later. Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” Eddie lifted his hands playfully. He waited a second, turning the yellow tub around in his hands. “It is good stuff though. Can see why you like it so much-” He dodged your balled up shirt you flung at him with a loud cackle, scampering to the bathroom to put it back on the counter.

also this is the lotion / sol de janerio's bum bum cream referenced lol. a very canon event i fear. hope you enjoyed!

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 8 months

Text

on the phone with 👑

(cw: mentions of ego-shooter video games; age gap 25/41, nsfw, masturbation, dirty talk, praise, MDNI)

part before: painting his nails

I'm tossing and turning.

In my own bed.

Cursing the notion I had, that I couldn't possibly stay for longer at his place.

On Monday morning, I packed up my stuff and hurried to work, after he made me another latte.

Being a good girl, not getting him to fuck me again, even though I would have rather taken him to bed than myself to work.

Texting König about every single minute thing that came to my mind. And him doing the same.

I sent him a pic while I was out getting lunch with a colleague. And he sent me a pic while he was working out. I almost died right there and then.

Firstly, I never would have thought he would do a mirror selfie.

Secondly...

His hair put up in a haphazard way. Damp strands of it hanging down.

The tank top was a tight fit especially for him, showing off his arms. Sweat staining the front of it, the sheen of wetness on his skin...

The shorts. The sight of his burly thighs had me gripping my desk, trying to get a grip.

Thirdly, that goddamned smile. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing.

When I had calmed down, my fingers typed out a message in response.

Me: excuse me??? sir??? 🫠 👑: you are excused

He's gonna pay for that one.

When I came home from work, I thought it was eerily quiet in my apartment. Nobody else being here. I mean, I live alone and Mimi greeted me as always. But it seemed like was something off. Missing.

I thought back to when we got my stuff and König just waited patiently for me while I packed some clothes and other necessities. Petting Mimi, his whole attention on the little cat. His tall stature dwarfed my living room, and I was actually surprised he didn’t hit his head on the ceiling. The Morbid Angel logo on his shirt was hidden by the black furball purring against him. Mimi sitting on his chest, not a care in the world, meowing when she saw me.

But there was no 6'10'' giant waiting for me in the living room then.

I willed myself - even though my fingers itched - to not send him message about asking for him to pick me up or stay over at my place. I wanted to give him some space after I had his place under siege for what feel like an eternity, but realistically was just three days. And I managed fine yesterday, his goodbye kisses still lingering. Today, even with all of the messages we sent back and forth...

Can you miss somebody like that after knowing them for such a short time?

I knew that he most likely spent the whole evening at home. Alone. Because he likes being alone. Probably reading or listening to the new Trivium vinyl he bought that came in the mail yesterday. Or both.

I stayed home as well, playing games on my computer – I actually started up Counterstrike and tried to play some matches –, but my mind always wandered back to him. Mimi came running, pushing her head against my legs, demanding attention. I lifted her off the floor to set her onto my lap and didn't see the enemy which got me eliminated. The irony was not lost on me, as I thought back to our conversation. How worried he seemed with how I would perceive him when he talked about his work. And now I was sitting here, playing a shooter game to try and relax after work.

I shook my head, at the absurdity of it, and snapped a quick pic in between matches to send to him.

My phone ding-ed while I was in a match, and I tried to ignore it.

As soon as I got the chance though, I opened the message and he sent a picture back. From the waist down, a book on his lap, a beer on the table beside him. The wall of books in the background. The whole room dimly lit except for the opened pages.

God damn it, I just want to sit right next to him on that couch.

me: looking comfy, old man 👑: thank you, i am indeed very comfy 👑: brat

I chuckled to myself and played a few more rounds before I went to bed.

And now I'm here, tossing and turning in my bed, without the big guy right beside me.

I pull the chat up again. Looking at the pictures he sent me today.

me: u still awake? 👑: yes, everything okay? me: can't sleep 👑: me neither

While I'm still contemplating my next message, the crown lights up my phone as a caller ID. Surprise spreads through me for just a moment before I pick up.

Hi?

Hi. Uh, I hope it's okay that I just called.

Sure, I can't sleep anyways.

I ignore the little flutter in my stomach.

What is it? Something on your mind?

‘Yeah, you.’ is what I want to say.

No, just restless.

He sighs.

I feel that.

A little silence falls over us, just for a moment.

What was that game you played before?

Oh, uh- Counterstrike. I'm no good at it though.

He laughs.

Why do you play it then?

It's still fun, I guess. Even if I curse at the monitor like a goddamn sailor.

Oh, I couldn't imagine your sweet mouth doing something as filthy as that.

Yeah, yeah. We both know what kind of filthy things you're imagining with my mouth.

Maybe.

I can hear the grin on his face which makes me grin in return.

Have you ever played?

I never played, no. Don't want to spend my free time with...

He pauses.

Work.

Oh right, I understand, sorry. This must be weird then.

No, don't worry. I know that people play those games for fun.

Yeah, I know, still.

You gotta show me some time.

Really?

Yeah, why not.

Okay, then, I'll show you my shitty gameplay with pleasure.

Which makes us both laugh.

I gotta confess something.

What do you have to confess?

I already had my car keys in my hand.

You did?

Mhm. But then I remembered what you said yesterday morning, about needing to go home and you couldn't possibly stay any longer… and I understand if you need some space. So, I wasn't sure if you'd even open the door for me, if I knocked.

A moment of silence.

Can I confess something as well?

Sure.

I have been thinking all evening how fucking stupid that was of me. And I would've opened the door for you in an instant.

Another silence, this one a little heavier.

But a little smile stalks on my face, an idea of what to say next.

What would you do if you were here?

He chuckles.

Kiss that filthy mouth of yours. And then the top of your head because that's closest to your dirty mind.

What dirty mind?

Yeah, yeah, I see right through you, Fräulein.

I don't know what you're talking about.

No? So, you aren't thinking about me fucking you from behind right now? Or maybe about you spreading your legs and me eating you out, your delicious pussy right in my face? Or about my dick pushing into your mouth until you gag around it, hm?

I clear my throat.

Well, now I am for sure.

Good. Because I'm thinking about it as well.

König?

Yes, Liebes?

I- There's something that always helps me sleep better.

His voice deepens.

And what's that?

Oh, you already know.

I need to hear you say it. What do you want?

I hesitate, feeling a little shy now.

I want to come.

He groans.

Fuck, can't deny you if you ask so prettily.

The tone of his voice sends a little shiver down my spine, but I'm unsure what to say now, the words on the tip of my tongue.

What- what should I do?

I can tell you what I would do if I was there, and you can tell me how it feels, okay?

Okay.

Put the phone next to you and put me on speaker. You're gonna need both of those hands.

I do exactly as he tells me, lying back into my sheets.

You're on speaker.

Good. What are you wearing, sweetcheeks?

I giggle a little.

A shirt and panties.

Hmm, my favorite. I would get rid of your underwear in an instant though.

I laugh and follow his suggestion. I already noticed his disdain for underwear, on himself as well.

Then I would slowly push my hand up your shirt, feeling your soft skin.

Until I reach your breasts, squeezing them.

I do as he says, but it doesn't quite feel the same with my hands, compared to his bigger ones.

I would graze my thumb over your nipples, feeling them harden from my touch.

I'd like to lick them, bite them just lightly, until you squirm under me.

I pinch them, his words mixing with the sensations of my touch, until I softly sigh.

Feeling good?

Mhm.

The sound is more a moan than anything else.

My hand would slowly wander down, until I'm there, just were you want me.

I whimper when my fingers reach my clit, swollen and sensitive.

That bad, huh?

Well, somebody sent a picture of them all sweaty and hot after working out. And I still can't think straight, just thinking about that.

He laughs.

You say such nice things, Liebes.

What would you do next?

I know that I sound desperate. But I need more.

I’d move my hand just a little further down. Not pushing into you just yet. Just teasing. Softly stroking over your wet pussy.

I whine, needy, but I don't dare to stray from his order, getting myself worked up with the teasing touches.

Just feeling how fucking wet you are for me, before pushing my finger into you.

I push one of my fingers inside me, the one digit not nearly being enough.

Miss your fingers, they're bigger.

He hums. A soft erotic sound.

I suppose they are.

I’d add a second one, slowly moving inside you, just how you like it. Hitting that spot inside you that makes you moan and roll your eyes back. Just how I like it.

His voice is getting deeper, his breaths a little more labored, as he keeps talking which sends a shiver down my spine. Knowing that guiding me through it like that, hearing me sigh in response, does it for him as well lets a little smile form on my face.

I do as he says, but I also get a little frustrated, because my fingers can't quite reach like his, my hips squirming, desperate for more friction.

Need more.

I whine.

Okay, then. Brat.

I would flip you on your front, so I could look at your ass.

I can't help the little eyeroll, while a grin stalks onto my face.

But you aren't here, and you can't actually see my butt.

Pssscht, I'm imagining it just fine. Come on, turn around, do as I tell you.

And I do, the rustling of my sheets telling him as far.

Good.

Just this word alone, from his lips, does things to me.

Now, lift up your hips just a little and push your fingers in from behind.

I follow his instructions, lifting my ass, so I can reach a little better, two of my fingers slipping into my pussy. I groan a little bit.

How's that? A little deeper?

Yes.

I sigh.

Good. Now, put your other fingers on your clit.

I push my arm under my body, placing the hand, right between my legs. My fingertips are digging into the sensitive nub and I rub against them needily. I know now why he wanted me to reposition myself.

Oh fuck.

The sounds I’m making are telling him what he wants to know.

Just like that.

Move your hips, fuck yourself on your fingers.

And I do as he tells me, the touches getting me worked up fast, the pressure on my clit changing with every pass, while my fingers are pushing into my pussy.

Hmm, feeling good?

Yeah, just wish it was you inside me.

That little confession dropped out of me before I could think too hard about it.

Fuck, me too. I would bury my dick deep inside you. Fuck you from behind. Hard, just how you like it.

Remember how I fucked you into that bar counter?

How could I forget?

We need to do that again sometime... You took me so fucking perfectly.

I bite my lip, stifling the moans that get louder and louder, the images of us fucking spurring me on, while I finger-fuck myself.

I wanna hear you. Please.

My head turns in the direction of the phone again, making sure he gets to hear all the sounds that are dropping from my lips.

Good girl.

His praise washes over me and I almost choke up when the pull inside gets too much.

Close, so clo-

Fuck, yes. Come. That's what you wanted, isn't it?

The growl in his voice tips me over the edge, moving my hips frantically in search for more friction, when my orgasm crashes down over me.

My moans fill my bedroom, and surely find their way into the phone.

I can hear him groan as well, the sounds from the speaker sounding a lot like a slick hand moving up and down quickly.

Fuck, he’s jerking off too. That thought registers in my brain, before my fingers hit that spot inside me again. The zap of pleasure makes me shake, the waves of arousal washing over me, while my fingers strum over my clit.

Fuuuck…

A low breathy curse that escapes his lips as he comes as well.

Panting, mine and his from the speaker, is all I hear for the next moments.

I untangle myself, my fingers slipping out of me, turning onto my back again. Feeling my own wetness on my hands. I clean myself haphazardly before I grab the phone again.

That was… something else.

Yeah… you drive me crazy, you know that?

I’m still just breathing, trying to calm myself down. My god, I don’t think I ever came that hard with just my fingers inside me. The images he put in my mind… his deep soft voice alone. It does stuff to me. Hearing him say that... how I drive him crazy as well, it makes me all giddy inside.

I feel the familiar fuzzy feeling sweep over me, and I wish I could snuggle into him right now, after he made me come, and my hazy mind is still looking for the right thing to say now.

Feeling better now?

Yes, much better.

Sleepy, too?

Yes, that too. I always get a little sleepy afterwards.

I've noticed.

Like on cue, I yawn.

Thank you.

He chuckles again. And I don't think I'll ever get enough of that sound.

No need to thank me. I'll make you come any day of the week.

I- meant for calling, but that works too.

The grin on my face probably mirrors his, staring off into the distance with our phones pressed to the ear. And he's still not here next to me.

Gotta get myself under the shower, because I made a mess of myself again and I got nobody here to clean me up.

That makes me laugh, the joke and the filthy thought cutting through the sleepiness, when I'm yawning again.

You do that, can't have you all messy like that.

No, we can't.

I can hear the little filthy grin in his voice, and I can imagine how he must look like right now. Sitting on the couch or his bed. His dick still out, all messy and sticky with his cum. His hair hanging over the side of his face, as he relaxes into the cushions. And that god damn smirk of his.

Silence, just two little moments, before I ask what I wanted to ask.

Can you come over tomorrow?

Sure, Kleine, whatever you want.

Okay, good. Good night, König.

Good night, sleep well.

That's the last thing I hear before I drift off to sleep, still gripping my phone tight with my fingers.

next part: gaming with him or more stuff in the Masterlist ~

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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sleekervae · 10 months

Text

New York Romantic .3

Masterlist

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: hotdogs in central park

word count: 3441

taglist: @watercolorskyy @carolanns-world @alana4610

October was always an exciting period in New York. The brownstones were decorated top to bottom in thick spiderwebs, glowing skeletons and some of the most incredibly carved jack-o-lanterns one could find. The air had picked up a distinctive chill and many people's denim jackets and summer shorts had been traded for thicker-lined coats and scarves.

And of course with the turning of the seasons came midterms, written essays and memorized monologues that had to hit emotion, rhythm, believability, and of course, a time limit. While Tom had spent his evenings memorizing his lines, Noelle was busy practicing her combinations. She wouldn't come home until seven or eight at night as opposed to her usual four-thirty. Dragging herself through the hallway, bleary-eyed and exhausted, she could discern the sound of preaching through the paper-thin walls. Tom's voice stood out distinctly, booming and self-assured, a stark contrast to his usual timid and bashful demeanour.

Because midterms never held back, Tom was curious when one of his professors instructed them to come in loose-fitting, easy-to-move-in clothing. Their next lesson was on movement, and they were to have the honour of having some training from the second year ballerinas.

Tom picked out a simple t-shirt and some baggy, grey joggers, he felt more like he was on his way to the gym than he was school. He found Sunny was already up, munching on a bowl of frosted flakes while he watched some YouTube videos on his phone. He looked up curiously when Tom walked in, noting his baggy attire.

Tom threw his hands out at his sides, giving a listless shrug, "How do I look?" he asked.

Sunny shrugged back, "Like you should be asking for pennies on the street corner," he replied.

Tom glowered at him, "Are you serious?"

"Well, you don't look professional!" Sunny replied honestly, "Unless that's the assignment, today?"

He shook his head, "We're learning about movement with the ballerinas,"

Sunny stifled a laugh, "You're gonna learn ballet dance?"

"Not ballet, just movement. Posture and stuff,"

Sunny shook his head, "Well, you can't go like that," he scoffed.

"Why not?" Tom asked, glancing down at his outfit, "They just said loose and easy to move in,"

His roommate stood from the table and started for the hall, "There's a difference between easy to move in and wearing your pyjamas to school," and he disappeared into his room, "How tall are you?" he called suddenly.

"Six feet. Six one, maybe?" Tom shrugged back.

Not a moment later Sunny returned with a pair of black training pants. He unfolded them before his eyes, the crisp white Adidas logo on the pant immediately catching Tom's attention before he focused in on the rest of the look.

"Here, I wear these for football. Freshly washed," he tossed them to Tom, and he barely caught them at his chest.

"Are you sure?" he gawked back.

"Sure I'm sure. You wanna' make a good impression for the ballerinas, right?" he patted Tom's shoulder before taking his seat again at the table.

Tom's brows furrowed, "I'm not -- I'm not gonna' be scouting for a girlfriend, if that's what you mean," he said.

"I know, but still -- give them a reason to remember you... that's not those trousers, anyway," he replied simply.

"What's wrong with these?" Tom cried, somewhat defiantly.

"You look like a chav who just finished up at his nine-to-five and's about to settle in for a twelve hour GTA marathon," Sunny explained, "Trust me, mate,"

Tom changed into the training pants nonetheless, and he had to admit they made him look way less baggy than before. With that, he grabbed his notes and bag, his jacket, and was out the door in a split.

"Come in! Come in, everyone! Come have a seat!" the professor for the ballet's morning class, an older man with a moderate Eastern European accent, bellowed out to the acting students as they filed into the studio space. It was a gorgeous, large room with wall-to-wall mirrors, all accept for the window space that overlooked the bustling Manhattan streets below.

Jordan, a twenty-year-old first year acting student, had been bellyaching all morning to Tom about how ridiculous this all seemed. He was nice enough, but he had a proclivity for complaining.

"This is so dumb," he grumbled, falling into line with the others, "They're gonna laugh at us,"

Tom glowered at him, "They're not gonna laugh. We're just here to learn," he whispered back.

"Learn to do what, Swan Lake?" he scoffed.

"Would you just relax, please?" Tom grumbled back.

"We could be doing our monologues, right now," Jordan pointed out.

Tom simply shook his head and remained silent, sitting cross-legged against the mirror as the others filed in. The ballerinas were already here, clumped in their groups and sneaking glances at the actors. A handful of girls and guys, statuesque, lithe, adorned in shiny black leotards, tights, and some of them had leg warmers on. Among them was Noelle, sitting in the corner with Bianca and another dancer while she laced up her pointe shoes.

"Oh look, your ramen buddy's here," Bianca muttered. Noelle caught Tom's eyes when she glanced up, that dazzling, gentle smile pulling at her lips and she gave him a wave. Tom smiled and waved back subtly.

Their friend, Iseul, scanned the faces, "Which one?" she asked.

"The one who looks like he's shitting his pants,"

"They all look that way,"

Noelle rolled her eyes, "Would you guys keep it down?" she muttered.

Jordan spotted the small interaction from the corner of his eye, "You two friends?" he asked.

"She's my neighbour," Tom replied simply.

"You lucky bastard,"

Noelle quickly got to her feet as her instructor, Stanis, began to debrief the actors, "You originally came here to learn about acting. How to show character, evoke emotions, but a major part of theatre is how you use your body to show, not tell. Just like in a good book, you become much better story tellers when your body reflects pain, joy, agony," the man paced slowly across the studio, his hands flourishing with every exaggerated word. The dancers stood at the ballet bar behind him, casually leaning, watching, handful of eyes were passing over the doe-eyed first years some with boredom, some with intrigue.

Jordan leaned over to Tom, whispering, "Is he a ballet instructor or a high school teacher?" he was referring to Stanis' moppy jeans, beaten sneakers and band shirt. Tom hushed him.

"Of course it's impossible to exhibit any of these emotions if you're stiff," he straightened his posture but stood as still as a statue, "Or if you look bored," he slouched outwardly, posing like a delinquent teenager outside a convenience shop, "Or you look like a geek --" he hunched his back and pulled his shoulders in, making his limbs stuff.

A couple students tittered behind him.

"Now, obviously I am a ballet teacher, I am not a theatre teacher. But some of the key principles of dance are posture awareness, balance, coordination, spatial awareness, and physically expressing your emotion. These are principles utilized in ballet, and these are principles you will need if you hope to -- quote-on-quote -- break out in the industry," a hand went up from the end of the actors' group, "You there! Kip Dynamite!" Stanis called on him.

The attention turned to 'Kip', a lanky boy with thin hair and glasses, "I just wanted to ask -- are we expected to learn actual dances? Not many of us have any experience," his squeaking voice traversed the room.

Stanis chuckled, "Don't you worry, I don't expect you to performing grand jetes. You will however be learning these principles over the course of your studies," he explained, "Today we will start with the basics. Everyone please take up a position at the bar. Don't be shy!"

The actors took up spots along the bars against the mirrors. Jordan however raised his hand. Stanis nodded to him, "Ichabod Crane! You have a question?"

Jordan's face twisted momentarily, not quite sure how to respond to the nickname as he spoke up, "I don't mean any disrespect -- but why are they here?" he pointed to the ballet students.

Stanis shrugged simply, "To laugh at you, of course," he replied. Whatever little confidence Tom was struggling to hold on to, figuring there was no way in hell he was being serious. Luckily, Stanis began to chuckle, "No, no. They will be helping you. Directing your posture, your form, and I gave them permission to kick you if you're doing it wrong," he smirked.

"He's joking!" one of the dancers called, sensing the fear within some of the actors.

Stanis ignored her comment, instead he turned to his students, skimming them one by one until he settled on, "Bianca! Come be our przykład!"

The acting students glanced between each other, though Bianca didn't bat an eye as she stepped forward. Her expression was different from when Tom first met her, she had a little more get up in her step, more sparkle in her eye. That being said, her smile was a little too stiff.

"Assume first position," he directed, and Bianca did just that; shoulders back and head poised high, "Now, in this position our heels are touching and knees are squeezed together. Your bottom is also squeezed. First position improves awareness and control in your body, imbues confidence; you essentially feel like you have a string pulling you up. For some of you I imagine this may be the first time you've ever held a proper posture like this,"

He then turned to the actors, "Now, keep your right hand on the bar and assume first," and they did as they were told. Some had more poise than the others, some were loose in their arms or hunched in their shoulders, "My little soldier ants will be coming around to silently judge -- I mean help you,"

The ballerinas came around, some shyer at the approach then others, while Stanis continued to have Bianca demonstrate positions and stretches.

"When we warm up on the bar, we bend our knees into a demi plie, really focus on that plumb line being brought down from your crotch and between your heels, making sure your butt's not sticking out like a chicken," he too paced around the room, inspecting his new pupils one by one, "Keep your shoulders stacked over your hips. I'm talking to you, Kip!"

Tom followed along as best he could, he wasn't the worst but he certainly wasn't the best. He kept his eyes focused ahead, following along to Bianca's changing positions, but now and again his vision wandered to the rest of his classmates.

Jordan was two students ahead of him, and he was as stiff as stiff could be. When the female ballerinas walked by especially. It was then Tom realized why he was so opposed to this in the first place: he was trying to look cool in front of them.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Noelle making her rounds. He tried to keep his form as best as he could, realizing that he was suddenly no better than Jordan in the moment. Noelle approached him with curiosity in her eyes, hands clasped behind her back as she inspected.

"Hey,"

"Hi," she admired his dedication to try, but she could tell from his tight grin, his stiff eyes that he was a little uncomfortable, "You doing okay?"

"I'm great," he nodded, "Your instructor seems like fun,"

Noelle simpered, "He's got a zany sense of humour. You get used to it after a while," she said, "You ever do dance before?"

Tom shook his head, "Not as much as I should've," he replied with a sheepish grin, "How bad is it?"

Noelle stood back and looked him over, all in all she thought he wasn't doing too terribly, "Push your chest out," she told him, "And bring your toes in a little more. You'll have better balance when you bend down,"

He did as she told him and she nodded in approval, "Way better. You won't feel as much strain in your arches now,"

"Thanks," he smiled at her.

"No problem. You got any questions?" she asked.

Tom mulled it over, the exercises were the last thing on his mind though. He glanced down at her pointe shoes, the satin a pearly pink and the heels peeking out from under her long leg warmers.

"I have one,"

"Shoot,"

"When you stand in your shoes, are you fully on your toes?" he asked, chuckling, "Sorry -- is that weird?"

"Not at all," she shook her head, stepping before him and placing a hand on the bar, "My feet are fully vertical, no pressing," she pushed herself up on her toes, her long legs perfectly straight and with hardly any shake. It was such a simple move and she made herself look so elegant at the same time. They were just about at eye level.

Tom cocked a brow, "Doesn't that hurt, though?" he asked.

"No. If you stand a long time then they cramp a little but... ya know," Noelle stepped back and forth to make her point, " -- And I gain a couple inches,"

Tom gave a little smirk back, pushing up on his toes and towering over her again. Noelle scoffed and gently smacked his arm as she dropped back on her heels, "Dickhead," to which he only laughed like a rascally child. Her skin tingled at the sound, she picked off how his eyes crinkled and his chest shuddered.

"Noelle!" Stanis suddenly called for her, garnering their and everyone's attention, "Are we giving a pointe lesson today?" he asked, a snide smirk playing at his lips.

Noelle smiled politely, giving a simple shake of the head, "Just previewing what's to come," she replied. Tom simpered beside her.

Another student piped up, "Wait -- are we gonna have to wear those shoes?"

"No, no. It was just a joke," Stanis assured him, "But if anyone slouches or slacks off today, they're going to be laced up and have to work on a solo for next class!" that statement seemed to light a little more fire under Jordan.

Tom's legs burned a little more than what he was expecting, his walk was a little stiffer and his face contorted when he had to go up some stairs. Noelle walked beside him, virtually unscathed by the warm ups and practices from the morning class. She watching him move with a little concern.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she held the door open for him as they exited the campus, eager to get some lunch.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, "Haven't done that much bending since... well I don't know," he shrugged listlessly.

"The more you practice the better you'll feel. Like with any workout," she assured him, "What do you want for lunch?"

Some good food was sure to cheer him up, and he hadn't really had a sustaining breakfast either. He wondered it momentarily, glancing around at the plethora of signs for cafes, sandwich shops, and hot dogs stands. In fact there was one right on the corner, vending just a block away from the gates of Central Park.

"Would I be a terrible person for suggesting a hot dog?" he asked.

Noelle's eyes went wide, "Have you not tried an nyc hot dog yet?" he shook his head with a knowing grin, "Well, c'mon then!"

Fifteen minutes later they'd found a little bench to park themselves up, bags disregarded on the cold cement beneath them as they unwrapped their foil-lined lunches. Tom opted to get the typical New York style dog with mustard and onions, while Noelle just stuck with relish on hers.

"Now -- you gotta promise not to tell my dance instructor, or my classmates, or even Bianca. Because I will be strung up for eating this," she looked at him with a point of pure earnest, leading Tom to panic for a moment.

"Wait -- if this is gonna ruin your regimen or anything --" he stumbled over his words, but Noelle began to laugh.

"I'm kidding! Relax," she patted his shoulder and he settled, "Besides, what is the point to life if you deprive yourself of all the good things it has to offer? Like cat-meat hot dogs," she spoke just as Tom was about to take a bite of his, pausing momentarily and side-eyeing her hard. She was trying to stop herself from laughing.

"Eat your fucking hot dog," he grumbled before chowing down. The meat was perfectly salted and the mustard tangy, the sweetness of the onions and bun cut the edge off of the pure sodium bite.

"Sorry," she giggled, taking a bite of her own. This was the first time she'd ever heard him swear and she wasn't mad about it.

Tom simpered back, "Have you ever eaten anything really weird? Like totally weird? No one would ever think it should exist?" he asked.

Noelle mulled it over, her pink lips pursed and her brows furrowed, "Balsamic vinegar on vanilla ice cream," she decided.

Tom gawked at her, "No!"

"Yeah," she nodded bashfully.

"On purpose?"

"... Kinda," she shrugged, "There's this fancy shmancy restaurant in Soho that has it with strawberries for a ridiculous price, and Bianca and I thought -- what's the big deal?"

"... And what was the verdict?" he asked curiously.

"It's actually really good," she admitted with another giggle.

Tom refrained from making a face, "But it's dairy and vinegar! Wouldn't it curdle together?" he asked.

"I don't know, but it's kinda' good," she replied.

"So, we've gone from 'really good' to 'kinda' good'. I'm not convinced," he smirked.

Noelle rolled her eyes, "Okay smart-ass, next time you come over I'll make it for you," she decided.

"I don't eat desserts,"

"Since when?"

"Since forty-five seconds ago,"

"Oh, please," she shook her head, "Alright, what about you: weirdest thing you ever ate?" his lips curled up, menacing and eager to spill what she only could perceive as some sort of harrowing secret, "What?"

"You're not ready," he told her.

"No, no, I'm ready," she assured him, "What was it?"

Tom didn't even have to think about it, "My mum used to make mashed potato sandwiches," he admitted.

She cocked a brow, "Mashed potato sandwiches? Like -- wait, really?" she set her hotdog in her lap and rested her chin in her palm, intrigued to learn more.

"Yeah, she's psychopathic," he nodded, trying not to laugh himself, "Mashed potatoes -- usually from a packet -- scooped between two slices of bread and some butter. And when she was feeling a little fancy, she'd put mayo on it,"

"Nooo, shut up!" Noelle gaped, "Was it good?"

"It was bread and mashed potatoes, of course it was good!" he laughed, "It was her comfort food, believe it or not,"

"That sounds very comforting," she giggled with disbelief, "Oh, bless her heart! Okay -- if I go to England, I'll visit you, I'll meet your mom, and I'll try a mashed potato sandwich,"

"You got a deal, then," he raised his hand and they shook on it, "You can bring her balsamic vinegar and ice cream and have her throw you out of the house,"

"And why would I want to disrespect your mom in her own home?" she teased back.

"Just forewarning you," he smirked back. She liked that he was opening up to her a bit more, his louder side was coming through and his quirky personality was beginning to shine through.

"How gentlemanly of you," she simpered.

Tom knocked her shoulder with his, growing increasingly at ease in her company with each passing moment. He wasn't an idiot, he could recognize that his feelings for her were starting to spark into a small crush. He found himself hanging off every word she spoke, every time she moved her hair behind her ear or she always found something new or intriguing to talk about. His stomach was flipping at every enthusiastic giggle and reaction he got out of her. It was as if her enthusiasm had a magnetic pull, leaving him captivated by her every word and gesture. The way her eyes lit up and her laughter bubbled forth filled him with an intoxicating blend of excitement and nervousness. His heart raced in sync with her infectious energy, and with each positive response he evoked from her, a cascade of warmth flooded through him, leaving an indelible imprint of happiness amidst the fluttering sensations in his stomach.

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the hunger games x reader #original story #original character #original series #imagine blog

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dreadsuitsamus · 2 years

Note

Can i request sfw prompt 1 with vegeta. But instead of it being vegeta's shirt can it be s/o's baggy hoodie that vegeta borrows?

#1- "Is that my shirt?" "You mean our shirt?"

author's note: i love vegeta in casual clothes. i want nothing more than to see him in a henley shirt 🤤

pairing: vegeta x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, vegeta being a lil shit

Getting Vegeta out of his armor and into casual clothes was a gradual thing. Despite it being the uniform of his past as a slave and the reminder of his genocidal deeds, it was comforting for him as the only constant he'd ever had his entire life. At any moment he'd be ready to fight, and that damn standard issue Frieza Force fit could handle it, with its ability to stretch at any size and to a certain extent, it could tank most hits without damage.

But sometimes it's laundry day, and it's not like he's got many pairs of armor tucked away. And as proud as he is of his body, he's humble enough to not walk around Bulma's place in the nude.

He's not above stealing, however.

You hum softly as you pull your laundry out of the dryer, rubbing your fingers and thumb together through Vegeta's skin-tight Saiyan suit. It's been hanging to dry since your clothes finished washing, and you've begun a routine of washing Vegeta's clothes with yours. It isn't like he's got much to make a full load anyway, and you can't recall ever seeing your sister do her own laundry.

With another hum, you drape his armor over your basket of clothes and begin the trek upstairs. Your room is right across the hall from the Saiyan's, so you simply hang the suit on the door and knock before stepping into your bedroom. With a sigh and a heave of the basket, you look at the arduous task for several minutes before starting.

Folding. Fuck folding.

"Bulma! Vegeta!" You shout through cupped hands. "Dinner's ready!" Bulma's door opens quickly with your older, adoptive sister practically jumping down the stairway.

"Thank god, I'm starving. Smells like steak?"

"Surf 'n turf." You nod, glancing back in the direction of the stairs. "He better hurry, 'cuz he's gonna be mad if he misses this, with all the meat I made."

"His loss!" Bulma shrugs, piling the delicious meal you've prepped onto her plate, her hip propped to the countertop as she starts eating. Despite Bulma's uncaring attitude, after your plate is fixed up you set aside the rest for Vegeta. It's a hefty portion, and after living with him for a year, you've figured out the sweet spot for the prince's hunger; any less than the three steaks, two bags worth of shrimp, plus the rest of the fixins and Vegeta would have a pouty, princely tantrum.

"You baby him, y'know." Bulma says before biting into her steak.

Your eyes cut at her sharply, annoyed as you sip on your tea. "You built him a special training room."

"You cook for him!"

"I cook for you!"

"You do his laundry!"

"You bought him the clothes I wash!"

"He's wearing your hoodie!"

"You- He what."

Bulma smirks, lazily flicking her fork in the incoming prince's direction. Sure enough, he's wearing your favorite hoodie as he strides to the kitchen. It's an old one from your teenage years with a worn Nirvana logo on it. The thing has always been like a safety net; its large size has allowed you to sort of "hide" whenever your nerves have gotten to you.

But on Vegeta, it's perfect. He fills it out how it's meant to, the black fabric making him look so snugly. It's odd, seeing him so… Soft? His rippling muscles are entirely covered, and his sharply narrowed eyes lose their bite. You point to the leftover platter, pleased with his nod of thanks. Bulma hides a giggle behind her palm, eyes openly ogling Vegeta's ass in those jeans while he walks the platter to the table.

"Stop that!" You whisper, throwing the salt shaker at her. It doesn't dissuade your sister, however, and she merely throws the shaker right back. You catch it, sticking your tongue out and looking to Vegeta as he tears into his mini feast.

"Is that my hoodie?"

"I dunno." Vegeta shrugs. You blink slowly, glancing at your sister and then back to the Saiyan prince.

"Where did you even get it from?" You swear it was-

"In your closet."

b r u h

"Then… It would be mine."

"Hm." Vegeta finishes his food, politely moving the dishes into the sink and washing his hands. "I'll be training."

His knuckles ghost over your knee as he leaves, a thrill of warmth sent up all the way to your neck. Bulma, at the very least, has the courtesy to wait for Vegeta's footsteps to recede upstairs before laughing loudly at you.

"You so have a thing for him!"

"Shut UP, Bulma!" Jaw tightened and brows furrowed, a dish towel's suddenly in her face while you stomp upstairs. Embarrassment ebbs at your skin, cheeks hot and flustered goosebumps littering your arms and legs. Of course you're interested in Vegeta; a strong, handsome man in your home?? That you take care of?? You'd have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to not take interest.

You're suddenly met with a brick wall, though when you see that bright blue another wave of embarrassment showers over you. Naturally you'd run directly into your crush at a time like this.

How is he so SOLID-

"Here." Vegeta murmurs, looking into your eyes so directly he can probably see your brain short out and stop working. If he did, though, he doesn't indicate it and gently drapes the folded hoodie over your shoulder, his knuckles brushing your skin again.

Without another word, Vegeta departs for his training session. You gnaw on your lip and carefully hold the sweatshirt, the scent of his body wash lingering on it. You hold it to your nose and quickly scurry into your bedroom before Bulma catches you.

"WHY IS IT SO FUCKING COLD?!"

You flinch, side-eyeing your shivering sister with a look that could kill and pass her a cup of hot cocoa. "Because it's the dead of winter, eleven at night, and you broke the goddamn heater. I can't believe you don't know anything HVAC related, and more than that, I can't believe you fucked with it not knowing what to do!"

"Oh, you can bet your ass I'm gonna be an expert by the end of the week! And excuse me for trying to make it work in my bedroom!"

All you can muster is an eye roll, tuning out Bulma's incessant blabbering and shiver as you prepare your own cocoa. Your sleeves are long, but the thin fabric wasn't doing you any favors. Bulma, all bundled up and even sporting an orange beanie with a blue pom on top, tugs at your thin top. "You're gonna freeze, girl."

"I can't find my hoodie." Your fingers twirl a spoon between them as the marshmallows melt in the cocoa.

"You have more." Bulma narrows her blue eyes suspiciously.

"That one's my favorite. It's big and warm and soft." Your lips curl into a pout.

"Mhm, sure. Or is it that it's been occupied by a sexy-"

"Who the hell turned the air on?" Vegeta asks as he strides into the kitchen, in dark sweatpants and wearing your hoodie once again. Sometimes it feels like this is the only room you see him in.

"Bulma broke the furnace." You cut your eyes to her again, sticking your tongue out when she flips up her middle finger at you.

"Of course." Vegeta rolls his eyes, accepting the cup of cocoa you quickly make up for him. His fingers graze yours, but he's frowning and seems not to notice the action. "You have goosebumps."

"Ah, it's cold?"

"Where's your jacket?"

"Where's my jacket?"

"You deaf?"

"I- No."

"Hm. Here." Vegeta pulls off your hoodie, and the chill in the house dispels in an instant.

Your sister's eyes damn near bulge out of her head at Vegeta's naked torso. While her face slowly turns red, Vegeta opens up the hoodie and pulls it over your head and tugs it down, quieting your worries down before you can voice them. "Saiyans are more hot-blooded than humans; I'll be fine."

Your mouth is bone-dry and you probably haven't blinked since the second that hem started going up. "Uh… I, ah… T-Thanks."

Vegeta takes a step back, picking up his mug and looking directly into your eyes while he takes a sip. "Mhm."

What the fuck. Why is he so hot.

Bulma's baby blues flick between you and Vegeta, her mouth parted enough to catch flies. "What the hell is going on here."

"Stay warm tonight." Vegeta keeps his eyes trained on you, shifting away before pausing his movements. "Make those hashbrowns with the eggs and bacon in the morning."

"Yes sir." You nod dumbly, eyes burning from the lack of blinking. What the hell was that about??

"G'night, ladies." Vegeta murmurs before strutting back out, a satisfied smirk on his lips when he feels two pairs of eyes on his toned back.

"If you don't get a piece of that when he's literally putting himself on a platter…" Bulma warns lowly, already thinking of potential baby names. "I fucking will."

You scoff and dump what remains in your mug, "Shut up. He's just after food."

"You are so dumb." Bulma pulls off her beanie and fans herself. "He's been giving you fuck-me eyes for months and I am siiiiiiiick of it."

"I-" You cheeks heat up and you pull your hood up, hiding your face in it.

"Uh-uh! Own it! Hot space alien has the hots for you!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes I do. He wants you to stay warm in his-"

"Bulma Briefs!"

Your sister leaves the room after a quick kiss to your temple, cackling all the way upstairs while you childishly rub the smooch away. Your thoughts wander while you do an inventory of the fridge, wondering if Bulma's words really do hold any weight to them. Yes, Vegeta has been… Bold. His smoldering gaze sets you ablaze every time he looks your way, and more and more you're noticing him looking at you, touching you…

Wearing your hoodie whenever he feels like it.

Perhaps she's onto something, but that'll be dealt with later, as it's midnight and he's already said his goodnights. But as you set your hand on the doorknob to your room, Vegeta's door opens up. Cursing softly, you turn your head to give him one more goodnight.

There's a pause, your eyes locked and the tension becoming more charged with each passing second. He's thrown on a dark Henley since going back to his bedroom, and it is entirely unfair for half-covered forearms to look so damn good. "Um… You're up late." You grimace at yourself for the lame conversation starter, though Vegeta seems not to care.

"Training room is broken."

"Bulma's gonna tear you a new one."

"And all I have to do is take off my shirt and she'll shut up."

Devious bastard.

"Good… Good point." You bite into your lip and curl your hand around the fabric of your sleeve, pulling it to your lip while cutting eye contact with the handsome prince.

"Do I make you nervous?"

"... A little bit."

Those bulky arms cross over his muscled chest and he smirks at you like he's gotten prey in his cross hairs. "I suppose it makes sense." He leans in closely to you, your chin soon between his fingers so he can make you look at him. A soft, sharp inhale sucks in between your lips, Vegeta's smirk widening. "A bad man living right across the hall… That'd make anyone nervous. But that's not why you're nervous."

"Vegeta…"

His arms box you in, hands firmly planted on the painted wall and leaving you with no escape. "Ever had a man this close?"

"... No." The air is heavy around you, so thick you could cut through it with an eyelash curler. Vegeta's dark eyes flick down and then back at your eyes, and you could swear he looked at your lips. He inches even closer, his lips a whisper on your cheek before they meet your ear, his voice causing an involuntary shudder throughout your entire body; even your goosebumps get goosebumps.

"How long are you going to ignore me?"

"Vegeta?"

"Way I see it, you've got two choices. You can acknowledge me, let me down easy if you gotta, or…" He thumbs the hem of your sweatshirt. "You give this back."

"It's my hoodie!" You squeak. He's so close that when you turn your head, your nose bumps his. He's right there!

"You mean our hoodie?"

"I- You- We- Huh??"

"We're sharing it. End of."

"Well, what're you sharing with me?" Your lips curl into an adorable pout and you cross your arms with an annoyed eyebrow raised. Who the hell was he to make demands from you?? He was in your house you shared with Bulma, eating your food and living off of you and your sister entirely for free! Not to mention he'd tried to kill all of your friends!!!

"The hoodie."

"Of yours." You started rolling your eyes entirely too often when Bulma allowed him to stay here.

Vegeta smirks. "I have one thing in mind."

His lips are on yours, and in the morning when you're cooking his breakfast, he struts into the kitchen with a satisfied smirk and your old hoodie on once again. Bulma eyes you incredulously as she walks in, noticing how his hand rubs up the curve of your spine before running back down and gripping your rear.

"I told you so!"

#vegeta x reader #vegeta x you #vegeta #db #dbz #dbs #fic #requests #anon

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chetchad · 5 months

Text

Irresponsibly

(S.T.A.R.S.!Chris Redfield x S.T.A.R.S.!reader)

Summary: After an irresponsible night, Chris and the reader are loosely confused about their friendship.

Warning(s): Referenced sexual content, barely edited.

Words (1529)

Sunlight hazed through the blinds, the beams hitting your face and making you let out a scoff of annoyance. Wait. Blinds? You don't remember having blinds. You have curtains— your thoughts were cut off when you felt movement beside you; you heard shuffling against the sheets and a quiet groan.

You quickly sat up and looked around the room, the room was messy and cluttered, with clothes strewn about and a few posters of half-naked women on the walls, and one thing caught your attention.

A jacket.

Not just any jacket.

No.

A leather one. A brown leather one.

With very familiar detailing on the back, one that made your heart sink, but also skip a beat at the same time.

You looked to your right and stared at the familiar tufts of brown hair that stuck out from under the blanket. You gently grabbed his shoulder and shook him awake.

"Chris? Wake up, it's time for work... I think." You mumbled softly, and resisted the urge to touch his soft, messy hair.

He let out a sleepy hum and turned his body to face you. Your eyes met blue ones, ones that made you feel warm on the inside. His eyes widened, and his cheeks turned a soft, rosy red.

"What are you doing here?" He asked quickly and sat up, the blanket uncovering his bare chest.

You looked down at yourself to make sure you weren't nude, and fortunately, you were in one of Chris's shirts. One of his S.T.A.R.S. shirts, with the logo on the sleeve and where a breast pocket would go, which was a soft white cotton. Chris squinted his eyes and looked around the room with confusion.

"Did we...?" He trailed off and felt his face heat up more at the thought of you and him together.

"I don't think so. God, I have a hangover." You muttered and rubbed your head, the throbbing headache clawing at you.

"Me too," Chris replied, and he stood up, only clad in a pair of boxers. "I'll go get us some medicine." He murmured and left the bedroom, leaving you with your thoughts.

After a few minutes and a few curses, Chris came back with some Tylenol and a bottle of water. He sat on his bed and handed you two of the white pills and the water. Chris opened the bottle of water for you and watched as you swallowed the pills with a mouthful of water. You handed him the bottle so he could take his, and you laid back on the bed. Chris took his and set the bottle of water on the bedside table.

Chris looked at the alarm clock and read the red numbers.

7:13....

"Oh shit. We've got to get ready for work." He huffed and stood up, walking to the mahogany dresser. He opened the middle drawer and pulled out a pair of tan pants. He clumsily pulled them on, buttoned them, and zipped them up. He looked over at you and gestured to the shirt you were wearing.

"What happened to your clothes?" He asked and tilted his head to the side, an adorable, confused expression on his face.

"I dunno. I woke up in this," You answered with a shrug, and you tried to bite back the smile fighting its way onto your lips.

"Do you need clothes to wear?" Chris inquired, and searched around in the drawer. He soon pulled out a pair of pants and tossed them to you. "They're the smallest pair I have. If you need a belt, you can use one."

You grabbed the pants and pulled them on over your underwear. You zipped and buttoned them. To your surprise, they fit. Chris glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, and felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of you in his clothes.

You looked over at the bedside table and noticed your keys, wallet, and S.T.A.R.S. badge. You grabbed them and put your keys and wallet into the deep pockets of the pants while hooking the badge on the waistband of the pants.

Chris just watched and admired you with a big, dumb grin on his face. You walked around the room and looked for your boots. You caught a glimpse of one of them from under his bed and looked.

You grabbed your boot and noticed quite the collection of porn magazines. You snorted and snickered, pulling away from under the bed, flashing Chris a cheeky grin.

"Someone's been busy." You teased and put your boot on, lacing it tightly after.

Chris blushed in embarrassment and nervously toyed with his badge. "I don't look at them often...." He mumbled shyly and mentally scolded himself for his shy behavior.

"It's fine. I'm just teasing." You reassured him and noticed your other boot next to the door. Chris let out a quiet sigh of relief and watched you put on your other boot.

You opened the door and walked into the small, also cluttered, living room. You sat on the couch and tried to ignore the still-pounding headache.

Chris walked out a few moments later and gestured to the front door. You got up and followed him out of the apartment. He slotted his key in the door and locked it. You guys walked to the elevator and went to the bottom floor.

The two of you walked towards the parking lot, and finally, after about five minutes of searching, you came across Chris's beat-up 1990 Honda Accord.

He unlocked the doors and climbed into the driver's seat. You got into the passenger seat. The car smelled like cigarettes and coconut air freshener, while CD cases were all over the floorboards and backseat.

Chris shoved the key in the ignition and started the car. He pulled out of the parking lot and began his route to the RPD. The silence was nice; it was just the sound of passing cars, which would just hum by.

Chris lit a cigarette out of habit, not realizing what he was doing until you rolled your window down passive aggressively.

"So, do you have any idea about what happened?" Chris asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

You tried to think about what might have happened the night before. You soon got a small snippet of the memory, a club.

"We went to the club last night with the team." You mumbled and groaned. "We went to a club last night and got hammered."

Chris cringed and pulled into the RPD parking garage. Chris parked and pulled the key out of the ignition, quietly sighing. He looked over at you with a small smile and opened his door. He took off his seatbelt and got out of the car, you did the same and closed the passenger-side door. The two of you walked into the RPD and began walking to the S.T.A.R.S. office.

Chris rubbed his temples and recoiled at the lights in the building. You and Chris eventually got to the office, and prepared yourselves for the scolding of a lifetime. You turned the doorknob slowly and pushed the door open.

"Where the hell were you guys?" Wesker sneered and rested his hands on his hips, glaring at you guys through his sunglasses.

"Umm...well.. we slept in...? Chris stuttered out and felt fear creep up on him.

"I don't want relations between my subordinates; do I make myself clear? Wesker replied, authority laced in his tone.

"Yes sir." You and Chris answered in unison, trying to hide the fear in your bodies.

Wesker gave you guys one last, icy stare and went into his office, slamming the door behind him. You and Chris let out sighs of relief and quiet giggles.

"I heard that if his shadow falls on you, your heart freezes and falls out of your butt." You whispered to Chris, which made him wheeze with laughter.

"That's amazing." He choked out between laughs, doubling over.

You laughed with him and walked over to your desk, you sat down and used your arms as pillows, trying to get rid of this headache. Chris patted your back and sat at his desk.

Everyone else in the office watched with annoyance, interest, amusement, or confusion.

"What happened last night after you guys went home?" Jill asked, and she swiveled her office chair to face Chris.

"We honestly don't remember," Chris answered honestly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Oh, no sex?" Jill added, sounding seemingly disappointed.

"No. No sex" You mumbled and felt your headache slowly dissipate.

"Damn, Brad, I owe you ten dollars," Jill called out, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Yes!"

"Shut up..." She mumbled and grabbed a roll of quarters from the drawer in her desk and handed it to Brad, who looked at her with confusion.

"What is this? He asked, sounding so sad, like someone had told him his puppy had died.

"Ten dollars in quarters," she answered with a smug grin.

"You just gave him forty quarters?" You asked in confusion, and lifted your head up to stare at them.

"Yeah, we made a bet. He bet that you guys wouldn't have sex, and I said that you two would have sex," Jill replied nonchalantly, which made you and Chris do a double-take.

"What." You hissed and narrowed your eyes at Brad and Jill, while Chris started laughing.

"Who knows, maybe I'll hit that tonight," Chris teased and pointed towards you, which made your cheeks heat up.

"I'm giving you five seconds to run, Redfield."

#chris redfield x reader #resident evil #chris redfield #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #s.t.a.r.s.#my writing

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russellsppttemplates · 10 months

Note

Sebastian and family coming to meet the babies after they are born . Like imagine him and Hanna telling mick to take care of mama and the babies

"Is uncle Sebastian coming herd today?", Aurora asked you while you changed Harriet's diaper, "yes, him and aunt Hanna are stopping by, they want to see you and Seb since they haven't seen you in a while and they also want to meet Harriet", you tapped your youngest's nose, seeing her gummy smile, "That's right, baby girl, we are having visitors, Harriet, yes, we are", you cooed while you finished fastening her popper buttons of her bodysuit, pulling her closer to you and walking dowstairs to meet the other guys, "hello, hello", you greeted Angie and Hazel, their wagging tails showing their excitement as Mick walked up to you, "do you need me to take this one?", he stretched his arms out, pulling her to his chest, "I really need a shower", you blushed, kissing his cheek and heading back upstairs so you could look a little more presentable for your guests.

With having three kids, you had your routine down to the most efficient it could be, showing up in the living room not long later with your hair blowdried and wearing comfy lounge wear clothes, "did you guys behave well for papa?", you asked as your son walked up to you, hugging your legs, "Hi, mama", he said, smiling up at you and asking you to pick him up with his hands, "hello, my love", you cooed, brushing his hair out of his forehead and eyes before kissing his pale skin, "did you guys tidy your toys like I asked you to?", you questioned, seeing Aurora nod along with Sebastian, "we only had to get papa's help because we built that logo tower and we didn't want to destroy it so we can show uncle Seb, but we did the rest", your son defendeded as you saw Mick nod in the background, Harriet sleeping on his chest, "Good job, guys", you complimented, looking to Aurora so she knew you were directing the praise at her, too.

When Sebastian and Hanna arrived, they were quick to put the food they had brought on the coffee table, even though Mick had insisted they didn't need to, and looked for the newest addition to the family, "hey, gorgeous girl", Hanna said as Mick out Harriet in her arms since she had woken up, "We'll be in the kitchen making some tea and grabbing other drinks, okay?", Mick said as he and Sebastian walked to the kitchen.

"So, how are you handling three kids?", the older German driver asked as Mick walked around, boiling the kettle and grabbing what they needed, "we're doing good, and now it really shows how retiring from racing was the best idea. There's no way this wouldn't have fallen all on Y/N and I wouldn't want any of that to happen. Besides, I spend more time with the kids, everything I have work related can be fit into the schedule when they're at school, Harriet is a pretty calm baby, too", he smiled.

"They're family, and at the end of the day, they're our priority", Sebastian said, "we have skills very few have and the privilege to have the best job in the world, but they're your constant. They're always going to be there for you and because of you. Y/N is an amazing woman, I've always told you that, and now she's an amazing mother, and it's your job to take care of them, too. I know you do, but there's never too much reminders, I find", he chuckled, hearing his wife walk inside, "Harriet spit a little on me, bless her, do you have a wet cloth I can use?", she asked as Mick pointed to the sink, "thanks", she said as she asked Sebastian to stretch out her shirt while she dabbed, "you guys are doing so well, Aurora and Seb are such great kids with you two and Harriet, and she's so calm, too", she took the opportunity to praise.

"Y/N has been a champion, as always, and I'm trying my best to keep up with her as well, although I doubt that I'm as good as her", Mick blushed, "trust me, you are. Because you care for them, because you found ways to help and that's all they can ask of you. The other day I was FaceTiming Seb and he was telling me how you had picked him up from school and he was so happy about it", Hanna added.

"You have built a good, strong family, Mick", she rubbed his back, "now I have to go back because Rora and Seb want to show me a Lego tower", she smiled.

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

#mick schumacher blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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rmoonstoner · 1 year

Text

***

Poisoned Empanadas

***

Pairing:

Moon Knight (Jake Lockley) x Spider!fem!reader

Spider-Man 2099 (Miguel O'Hara) x Spider!fem!reader

***

18+

Warnings:

Violence, strong language, mentions of death, mentions of depression, sexual themes, volatile emotions, dats a big boi, dats an angry boi, reader gets hurt, whumpy, hit-you-in-the-feels, why are they so sweet?

***

Summary:

Miguel goes out on patrol with you and your friends. Something noteworthy happens. We see a side of your ex that you don't get to.

***

Chapter 6 - Panades, Belize

This empanada is from Belize. Like many other Empanadas, they are usually crescent shaped and packed full of white fish and a variety of beans, sometimes with cheese and other meats. The shell is made of corn flour, giving it a yellow color, and is deep fried in lard until fully cooked and golden and crispy on the outside. It is typically serced with salsa made of onions, cabbage, and peppers.

***

The next morning.

Everyone was seated around the table, except for Stephen and Miguel. Stephen had made it clear that there would be a mandatory meeting this morning, before anyone was allowed to leave for the day.

"What do you think? Is the doc gonna find a missing Spider?" Gwen asked.

"Pffft. If that man is smart, he wouldn't dare leave." America laughed as she jotted down some quick notes for class without even looking up.

"I dunno. He broke my arm. It takes a lot to do that." Peter huffed. America stopped and looked up at Peter with a deadpan expression.

"He what?"

"Yeah, but it's fine. Stephen fixed me up as good as new. Miguel even apologized! I believe his apology was genuine."

"That's not good enough, Peter! He owes you, now. He broke into your building that you inherited from Tony. He beat you up and shattered your arm. You're lucky Stephen was available!" Gwen complained, while America hummed in agreement.

"Shhh, I hear them coming down the stairs!" You hissed at them both and you picked up your tea to feign like you were occupied.

Stephen had Miguel marching into the room in street clothing. Miguel was in simple blue sweatpants, some white sneakers, red socks, and a tight fitting black tee with a faded Led Zeppelin logo on the front. Miguel had a frown and he seemed to squint at the bright lights of the kitchen. He grumbled as he took a seat next to you and started to rub his eyes generously.

"Damn. You look awful." Gwen declared while looking at the large man that was hunched over the table.

"Mmmhmmm." Miguel huffed back. When he removed his hands, he was still squinting badly. He looked like he was hungover.

"He will be fine. He's light sensitive." Stephen said while the lights dimmed and the curtains in the kitchen windows closed. He set down a pair of red sunglasses beside Miguel and patted his back.

"These have special lenses. A friend of mine, Doctor Hank McCoy, developed them for a colleague of his. They should help with your sensitive eyes and also if you happen to have hellfire spewing from them." As he explained the glasses, Miguel snatched them up and put them on.

Stephen was quick to set the table for breakfast with a simple hand gesture and he motioned for everyone to dig in. The moment a steaming cup of coffee appeared in front of Miguel, he took it and guzzled it down. He didn't even make a face at the temperature, and merely sighed happily as the caffeine flooded his system.

Everyone ate and talked. Stephen and Peter were discussing the genetic testing he was doing at the lab, and how it was set back a few months for obvious reasons. One of which was sitting there, trying to be invisible. Gwen was helping America with her notes by making flash cards versions of them.

And that left you and Miguel to sit there awkwardly. Miguel was listening to Peter talk about his experiments. You sipped your tea and poked the food around your plate until it was eventually all gone. When breakfast was done and cleaned up, America left through a portal, while Peter and Gwen followed her.

"You're free to leave, if you want, but please remember that when I summon your presence, you better come running." Stephen said as he waved his hand dismissively.

You gawked at him. Whatever discussion they had, they certainly weren't letting on about anything they talked about. Miguel was quick to get up and leave, only stopping briefly at the door to say his goodbyes.

"So, uh… I'll see ya tonight? Sanctum roof?" You asked. He sighed and nodded.

"Yeah. The doctor said I have to stay within sight of one of you four. I assume that includes the black and red Spider-Man?"

"Yeah. He was the new kid, before I came along." You laughed and rubbed the back of your neck. Miguel chuckled and turned to leave.

"If I show up early, can we get pizza again?" He turned back to give you a dopey grin. You blushed and agreed.

"Yeah. We can get pizza." Miguel gave you that adorable fangy grin and he left before he said something stupid.

He made his way down the steps and towards the general direction to his hotel. Miguel's brain was filled with images of the night ahead.

The doctor had basically given him an old school vibe of; 'If you hurt my daughter in anyway, shape, or form, I'll blast you with my boomstick.' The daughter being you, and the boomstick probably being some sort of magic spell pulled from the depths of Hell or something.

The other Spiders were mentioned as well, with him being just as clear about not hurting them either. Miguel understood why. He did kind of severely damage Peter's arm.

But, the man made it very clear he wouldn't tolerate Miguel playing around with you if he wasn't serious, or if you weren't interested. Stephen said, no, he demanded, that Miguel was absolutely not allowed to come on to you first. No intentional flirtatious behaviour or comments, unless you initiated it first, any sex that could happen, he needed your explicit and coherent consent.

No drugs. No alcohol.

No consent. No sex.

It was terrifying and awkward for Miguel to sit there like a shrinking lump in a massive chair. He felt like some awkward and scared teenager in the fifties, and not a grown ass man from the not so distant future, with superpowers and a couple of doctorates.

The fact he was technically a doctor as well didn't even cross Stephen's mind. He knew first hand that having a doctorate didn't make you a good person. He was more worried about the kind of person Miguel was. Miguel didn't even know that yet. He had lost who he was and he was still figuring himself out.

Miguel suddenly smiled at the thought of the major loophole to the wizard's words.

If you initiated the flirting first, he could roll with it. Stephen didn't give him any sort of level to adhere by, except for explicit sober consent from you.

He had a sudden thought that you were still watching him through the window, and he stopped to look over his shoulder. You were there, up on the window where people normally shouldn't be, smiling, your face lighting up when he locked eyes with you and you began to wave in a silly manner. He waved back and felt his face heat up even more. The heat was threatening to sneak on down to his nether regions, but with a quick thought process change, he saved himself from a surprise erection.

What also helped that surprise erection disappear, were the sudden 'ooo's' and 'ah's' and kissing sounds coming from Lyla.

"Shhh. Stop it. Please?" He covered the faceplate of the watch with that deep heat in his cheeks returning full force.

"You like her." She giggled back.

Miguel didn't answer. He started to walk again and picked up his pace as he swiped away Lyla's face and began going through his messages. Stephen had given Lyla the app details and she downloaded the program. It was an app that Peter and the others had worked on for communications between the Spiders and the different hero factions they were a part of.

He saw he was added to three chats. One was the room for the Spiders, and it was named 'Your Friendly Neighborhood Spiders'. Since being added only that morning, there had been an overwhelmingly large amount of texts. He decided to wait until he got back to his hotel to check those.

Another was set to an unnamed chat that contained Stephen, America, Peter, and you. He assumed that was the house chat.

And the last chat thread had been started with just your name at the top of the box. That one made a deep grin form onto his face. It was a simple, yet funny greeting.

5:01am

You:

Hello there, handsome. It's me, the bane of your existence! Lol.

He happily replied and sent back a message.

9:23am

Miguel:

Haha, very funny.

As he was sending the message, he heard a car door open to his left. With a quick sidestep, he avoided the door. A man got out and slammed the door shut as he turned away from Miguel. His collar was up, hiding his face, while the man wore a newsboy cap with the rim over his eyes. The man lit up a cigarette and appeared to be leaning on the cab as he typed away on his phone. He was clearly agitated.

Miguel didn't want to have a hassle with some random guy right after leaving your presence, while still in full view of the Sanctum. He promised the wizard that he would behave himself during his stay here.

That cabbie brought the phone up his ear, and his voice went from frustrated and angry to calm and collected. He wasn't calm for very long, and he started to cry and rub at his face with his sleeve as he pleaded into the microphone.

"Hola. Last call for now. I'll try again tomorrow if I haven't heard from ya by then.-" The sound of that man's voice hit Miguel's ears and he felt a knot twist in his gut. He sounded so God damned familiar, and he couldn't place why.

*- I miss you, my pretty little star, mi estrella. Te extraño mucho. Please consider giving me a call. Te amo…"

And there it was.

The Spanish accent that sounded a little too close to his own. The jet black hair that was slicked under the back of the man's hat and over his olive skin. The little nickname he had heard clear as day in his dream. The one the grey suited man had affectionately referred to you as, right before Miguel took his place.

He took a quick glance at the license plate and subtly took a picture of it with his watch. He even got the man in the photo frame as well. After, he took a video of him typing away on his phone and he turned his head, as if he were about to look at Miguel.

Miguel was quick to speed up and leave, turning down an alleyway and going to his hotel as he shot you a text to message him if you needed him for any reason. The man only caught a streak of him leaving and thought nothing of it as he got back into his cab and drove off.

***

When Miguel left, you found yourself quickly clambering up the wall to the large circular symbol in the glass. You peered out the window to watch him walk away while Stephen chuckled and gave you privacy. You were sure you looked insane, like a gecko stuck to a glass tank, sideways, face close to the glass, but not exactly touching it.

Miguel's ass looked quite nice in those sweats as he was walking away. Your eyes followed him as his form got smaller and smaller. He turned around and saw you, which made you blush and bite your lower lip. You waved. He waved. You smiled. He smiled. He turned around and kept going, and your eyes lowered back down to his rear. It wasn't until he nearly collided with a car door, when your eyes darted away from that scrumptious bottom.

Your heart dropped.

It was Jake. He was wearing a scowl as he absently tossed a middle finger at Miguel for nearly getting in his way and he slammed his door. The sound was so loud, you could hear it. You even saw Miguel wince and quickly move away from him, but not too far as he stared at the audacity of the other man. It didn't look like he had seen Jake's face. If he did, you just knew he would have stopped dead in his tracks and confronted him.

You watched as your heart sped up, thudding harshly in your chest as Jake didn't even look back at Miguel while he pulled out his phone. You gulped as you heard your phone down on the table start to ring and vibrate against the old wood. All you could do was dumbly look down at it while it skittered about making a horrible buzzing noise accompanied with Jake's ringtone.

After six rings, it stopped and the lights went dim. You sighed in relief and relaxed, but then it started to buzz again. You let go of the window and dropped to the floor, eyes not leaving the device. You brought both hands to rest against the table as you leaned over it, glaring when you saw his name flashing across the screen, along with the one photo of his stupid face in that stupid hat of his that you forgot to remove from the phone contact list.

Again the phone stopped, and this time it went to voice-mail. The phone was quiet for a moment, until the voice-mail registered and the screen lit up while the phone vibrated to alert you to a new message.

You let go another heavy breath of air and relaxed, resting your head against the desk and sighing. Maybe he had given up, maybe he wasn't. You had no way of knowing.

However, you did know that Jake must have come back and seen the car missing. He must have panicked when he saw that the house was stripped bare of anything you owned. He was probably actively looking for you.

But he had no idea where you were, right?

Right?

You bit your lower lip and picked up the phone, going straight to look at the alerts and call history. You could see one from Miguel, but it had to wait until you inspected the ones from Jake, first.

Jake had actually called you five times. He left four voice mails. Before listening to them, you checked your text messages. He had sent you around ten of them, right after you had sent Miguel a message and put the phone down for breakfast.

***

6:37am

Jake:

Heya, doll. I'll be coming into town in thirty. See you soon. I missed you a whole lot.

7:02am

Jake:

You still like those Redbulls? I got a couple cases of the ones ya like.

7:07am

You have missed a call from Jake Lockley.

7:08am

You have a new voice-mail from Jake Lockley.

7:10am

Jake:

Is this a joke? Real funny.

7:16am

Jake:

Mi estrella? Hello?

7:21am

Jake:

I talked to the neighbors. They said they saw you packing and getting rid of things. Did you go to the school you were talking about? I must have forgotten.

7:29am

You have missed a call from Jake Lockley.

7:32am

You have a new voice-mail from Jake Lockley.

7:43am

Jake:

Where are you?

7:46am

Jake:

I found the sale papers for the car. Why did you sell it? Was there something wrong with it? Why did you sell it to Clint?

8:07am

Jake:

I called Clint. He said you sold it to him like two weeks after I left. Said you didn't need it and never used it. I'm not mad or upset. It's your car. I'm going to go grab some breakfast and call ya in a bit.

8:45am

You have missed a call from Jake Lockley.

8:50am

You have a new voice-mail from Jake Lockley.

9:13am

Jake:

I am getting worried, here. At least respond to me, so I know you're safe.

9:20am

You have missed a call from Jake Lockley.

9:27am

You have a missed call from Jake Lockley.

9:28am

You have a new voice-mail from Jake Lockley.

9:30am

Jake:

Please, sweetheart. Please reply. I know I said we were on a break, but I came back. I just had to see you. I have only a week, before I gotta go back. I'm sorry. Please, mi estrella?

The messages were sweet and sad. Your heart panged for Jake. He was acting lost without you. He wasn't even showing any signs of being angry. He was clearly worried about you and your safety.

You dialed up your voice-mail and waited to hear his voice.

"Hola! How is my beautiful girl, eh? I see a lot of empty space. What's going on here? Are you renovating? The mailbox is pretty full."

When the message finished playing, you frowned. He sounded nervous, like he was pretending to be optimistic and happy. You could hear the disappointment in his voice. You waited for the next one to play.

"Did you… Did you go to that university that you were talking about? Ya said something about a Stark scholarship a few times. It looks to me like… Like ya moved out. I hope not. There's literally nothing of yours left here, except the junk mail. Uh, anyways, please shoot me a call back."

Now his voice had melted into a hollow tone. You almost cried, but you held them back.

You remembered how violent and volatile he was towards others. Miles had seen him beat the crap out of a few people. Gwen had reported seeing him yelling at gang members... And both Peter and Stephen had some not so nice things to say about him. What if his next voice-mails were rude and belligerent?

What if he threatened you?

"Hola, sweetheart! I am just calling to be sure you know that I support whatever decision you are making. I know you're probably mad at me right now. I get that. That's okay. If you don't want to see me again, please just let me know. I promise I'll leave you alone, once I know that you are okay. Please?"

Your heart broke at his begging and pleading. His voice was cracking and he sounded like he was sniffling. Was he crying? He never did that around you.

"Hola. Last call for now. I'll try again tomorrow if I haven't heard from ya by then. I miss you, my pretty little star, mi estrella. Te extraño mucho. Please consider giving me a call. Te amo…"

By now Jake sounded quite depressed. He wasn't yet giving up, but for today he claimed that he was.

But wait… Did he just admit to loving you? You had to play the message again, and it made you feel both extremely good, and terribly sad.

Now you were crying as you set the phone down. You paced around the room for a long moment, then remembered he was just down the street. With a quick couple of jumps and flips, you got back up to the window and looked to see if he was still there. You completely missed your phone's muffled buzzing again as it sat on your sweater.

He was just getting back into his cab and you cursed to yourself. There would be no way to chase him down with the way he drove. You had a hunch he was looking around the city for any sign of you. You thought about telling someone of what you saw, but then that would just freak everyone out for no reason. You decided to wait and see what happened and kept it a secret for now. You weren't going to reply, not yet anyways, but he'd know you read the messages.

***

Jake was anxious as he walked through a park he used to take you to. It was close to the bridge, with his favorite taco truck near by. He always enjoyed looking at the lights up there. He once admitted to you that he would sit here and smoke weed while watching the Spider-Folk go about their business across the buildings in the night sky.

What he didn't reveal, was that he was there to specifically watch you. How he adored your outfit and the way you'd gracefully leap about with those lights, or swing with your webs. He missed coming out at night for his cabbie job, because he spent most of the night following you around, making sure you were safe.

He even kept his secrets to himself, secrets that would have made everything easier for the both of you if only you knew.

It was the middle of the day, and he sighed as he sat down on a bench with a couple of pork carnitas and watched the boats on the water go by. He chain smoked for a while and eventually went back to his car to drive around for a few hours. He didn't catch any sight of you, but he did see Bruce Banner walking with Natasha Romanoff, hand in hand.

That image made him feel smaller. He had that with you, and he just had to go and fuck it up by not being honest with you.

By nightfall, he found himself driving lazily down a strip of cheap motels with bars and pubs across the street. He wanted to keep himself occupied and his mind off of you, so he went looking for fares.

A few hours in, he'd made a good chunk of money. A bunch of college frat boys needed rides up to a dormitory, and that took up most of his time to make three separate trips. He didn't mind. It was a fair and honest rate and they all tipped him quite well. One of them even handed him a bottle of whiskey and a bag of weed, before he stumbled off to his dorm.

Jake was just making a turn down Bleeker street when he noticed a sparkle of orange on the roof. His foot hit the pedal and he sped up to get closer. Once he was close enough, he parked the cab and got out to get a better look.

There on the roof was one of those portals he'd heard so much about. Jake frowned and watched as you leapt on through and set off some lights into the air. A moment later, a black and red Spider-Man was zipping towards the roof from the left, while the white Ghost-Spider came flying down from the right.

Jake's frown grew wider at the sight of that, but he was relieved that he didn't see the large Spider-Man. He was almost going to call you again, but when he checked his messages, he saw that you left him on read.

He sighed and almost gave up. He decided to have another cigarette and a drink from the booze he was given as he waited a few more minutes, before he would consider leaving you alone.

He was half way through his cigarette when a very tall man walked past him while talking to his watch. He was wearing a baseball cap, his hair falling out the sides and hiding his face. He was wearing sunglasses. At night. Jake raised an eyebrow, but the man was fully occupied. Whatever. He wasn't important. It didn't matter anyways, as the guy just dipped into the pizza place and out of sight.

His attention was caught by the OG Spider-Man walking through the portal, and you going back inside. He grumbled about that, hoping you'd come back out soon.

***

It was exactly an hour before the meet up time, and Miguel was patiently waiting in line to make the pizza order. He was getting what he got last time, while you had sent him a list of what everyone else wanted. There was an extra large pepperoni and mushroom for Miles and Gwen, a pesto linguini for the doctor, and two boxes of wings for you and Peter. After he ordered and got the food, he made his way back to the Sanctum.

On his short little walk, he passed by a cabbie faced away from him that was smoking and drinking a rye and coke in a can. The light was off on the cab, and the man looked exhausted as he blankly stared ahead and power smoked what smelled like weed to Miguel. He chuckled and passed by the poor tired man without another thought, without even looking at his face.

It was New York at night after all.

When Miguel arrived at the Sanctum doors, you greeted him and beamed at the food in his arms

"Heya, big guy! Good to see you!" You said while grabbing his arm. With a tug, you went trotting over to the library, Miguel happily following you and enjoying your hand on his bicep. The door closed itself and Miguel noticed, finding it creepy.

"Stephen! The food is here! Can you please open up a portal to the roof, again? His hands are full." You asked the doctor, who had been peacefully doing Sudoku a moment ago. He looked up at you, then at the bags in Miguel's hands, then raised a brow.

"Oh, uh, before we go up, here's your green pasta." Miguel quickly handed the man his take out box. Stephen's mouth just barely curled upwards, showing Miguel that the man was appreciative of the meal.

"Thank you. The others are waiting upstairs." Stephen said as he opened a portal and went right to work unboxing and eating his food with chopsticks that appeared from thin air. When you got through the portal, Miles stood up and pointed.

"That's the guy?!" He was not subtle, nor was he quiet about his shock and clear disdain for seeing Miguel's face.

"Yes, Miles. That's the guy." Gwen said as she grabbed his arm and tugged him back a bit. The young man was furious to see that face.

"Ya got some nerve, Lockley! Showing your face after what you did to her!" Miles hissed. In an instant Gwen had slapped her hand over his mouth and quietly apologized to Miguel. You decided to speak up and explain.

"Miles. This is Miguel O'Hara. This is not Jake Lockley. Yes, they look a lot alike, but this man isn't my ex. He is one of us. Please welcome him."

"Yeah. He's alright." Peter piped up. Miguel gave him a confused looking eyebrow raise at the lack of mentioning the broken arm. Was Peter just going to pretend it didn't happen? Either way, his calmness was bleeding through to Miles, and the young man calmed down enough to sit.

"Miguel will be patrolling with us from now on. I figure having a massive brick wall on the team will help out with all the smaller Spiders we have." Peter continued as he dug into the food.

Okay. So it did look like he wasn't going to mention the arm.

"What powers does he have?" Miles asked.

"Uh, the usual spider stuff. I have super strength, stamina, speed, agility, dexterity, durability… I can jump thirty feet, more if I absolutely have to. I have sharp fangs that secrete a paralyzing toxin…" He opened his mouth and showed Miles his teeth.

"... Oh, and I have retractable claws." He finished as he held his hands up to show his talons. Miles gawked then looked up at Miguel's face.

"What spider bit you? Did you see it?" Miles asked. Miguel's face scrunched up in annoyance.

"Uh… Well, about that… I did this to myself."

"What!?"

"Yeah… I was experimenting with genetics, and I had a sample of some superhuman Spider DNA, then an accident happened at work, and well… This happened. I bulked up over night, got taller, and I could see better… But I now have an intolerance to bright lights." He explained it like it wasn't a big deal. You suspected there was more to it, but you didn't dare ask in front of the others.

You just wanted to get through tonight.

***

"I don't understand. We have business to attend to, my son." A gravelly voice boomed through the silent night.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I have time." Jake's voice replied. The sounds of metal clicked and snapped, and a flame lit the dark alley up once again. His face was visible, a white stick stuck in the corner of his mouth as he puffed away.

"You have exactly seven days. Seven days, and you go back to Egypt, no matter what." The louder voice hissed, while the quieter and calmer man shot a death glare at the other.

"Mierda, get off my back. You know I'll get us back there in time."

"Are you sure? You said that the last time, and Steven woke up in a ditch, covered in blood, when he had just been at work for a double shift." The comment drew a string of silent curses from Jake as he tapped his cigarette.

"That was my mistake. I didn't get back before the sun came up. At least there was a dead deer on the road, so he just assumed he hit it."

"On his bicycle? Really?"

"Whaddya want from me? They still have no idea I exist."

"Uh huh. They also have no idea you've been dicking down a Spider for the last three years, while Marc's been married to Layla for half of that time."

"It doesn't matter. They broke up when she found out about you."

"That's what you think. Marc left of his own accord and he lied to her about me. Steven wants them to go back to her."

"Not gonna happen. I just know if Steven and Marc see my sweet Galaxy-Spider, they'll love her, too. They'll forget all about their Scarlet Scarab."

"What? You think they will just magically forget about their wife?"

"No, but they will choose her over Layla. I am sure of it. Besides, Steven only just found out about Marc and Layla. He's only ever kissed her once." Jake argued as he summoned his suit.

"Jake, my son… Will they not be furious to find out there's another alter, and that he's been in a committed relationship for this long, with absolutely no sign of it? You basically made Marc into a cheating scumbag, without his knowledge, and Steven by association as he's made it clear that he wants Layla."

"It's different. We are different. Different lives-"

"But will she see it that way? What about Layla? She doesn't deserve this shit, and she's Taweret's Avatar now. She is fully aware that Marc has DID." The old bird said simply. Silence permeated the air as Jake power smoked the rest of his cigarette. Khonshu cleared his throat, then continued.

"And what of your precious little star Spider? Do you think she's going to be happy to find out about Layla? Or that she's married to Marc?"

More silence as Jake refused to look at his boss.

"You really think she's just going to jump back into your arms after you left like that?"

"Of course she will, it's a silent understanding."

"Riiight. And this has absolutely nothing to do with that explicit nightmare you had the other night?"

More silence.

"You better keep the dark suit on, then. It's harder to see than your white and black suit." The loud voice rumbled.

Jake didn't reply as he snuffed his smoke out between his gloved fingers and threw the butt away. He straightened his jacket and adjusted his tie while looking at himself in the windshield of the yellow taxi.

"Mierda …" Once satisfied, a dark grey mask slowly materialized onto his face, stitching itself up over his left eye. He slowly removed his hat and threw it inside of the trunk of the cab, then turned to watch the Sanctum.

He saw four different colored lines zip across the sky to a tall building, while multiple blobs of lights were deployed in the sky. Soon after, five colorful shapes were dashing across the horizon. Jake scowled when he saw another, much larger Spider with them. He took a deep breath and set off in a run to follow them in the shadows.

***

The night was going…

Well, it was going.

Between the four of you, you managed to nab a few gangsters each and drop them off at the police station. You had performed nicely, and had even forgotten the fact that Miguel was a new addition to the team. He seemed to understand what you were doing and didn't need to be verbally told.

Miles was eager to show Miguel his own powers, by demonstrating them on the four guys, right before he had caught them, while Miguel watched them drop like electrocuted flies. Gwen wasn't eager to show off at all, and her and Peter had stayed by the group they had already collected. That just left three guys to round up, and you went after them once Miles began to tie up the ones he grabbed.

Miguel was quick to follow you. He waited for your signals, and he followed your nonverbal commands perfectly. When you pointed to two guys trying to make their way through a crowded street where people were leaving from the clubs and bars. They were obviously trying to blend in, and it almost worked, but your eyes spotted them easily, as did Miguel's. Unfortunately you didn't see where the third one went.

You each picked a side of the street, concealing yourselves in the shadows as you followed them to the bus terminal by the club owned by a local gang leader. If they went inside, you would lose them, and then it would be you and Miguel tucking tail and running.

Miguel found an opening and he gave you a look and quick gesture towards the one that was going around the back of the building. You nodded, and he shot off towards the man at a terrifying speed that sent vibrations through the pavement that you could clearly feel.

That left the other guy, now leaving the safety of the crowds at a run. He moved fast for a big and out of shape guy, but you were certain that you could catch him in time. You pulled some orbs of light into existence right in front of the guy to surprise him. He screamed and swerved away from the gang hideout.

Shooting a few webs at his legs, you managed to catch him. Just as the thrill of it hit your veins, you were hit over the back of the head and passed out.

***

Miguel had seen it all happen. He was tasked to take down the one guy, while she was sent to fetch the other. He made quick work of his target, and just as he was coming back around the corner, his target tied and slung over his shoulder while he kicked and squirmed, Miguel witnessed the third man come out of the hideout and run at the other Spider. Miguel dropped the guy in his grip and sped forward.

As quick as he was, he hit the guy, but he missed the trash can lid that flew out of his hands, hitting her directly in the back of the head. He watched in horror as she made a weak sounding sigh and went down like a sack of potatoes.

A blinding rage filled him as he clambered to the man that had caused the blow to her head. The thug skittered back, his face full of terror as Miguel snarled and grabbed him by the leg. With a heavy jerk, he yanked the man towards him and bit him in the leg. The man screamed and kicked at his face.

Miguel let him go, only to watch him stagger a few car lengths away and collapse to the sidewalk. The bite had taken its toll on him, and he was now out cold and twitching. Miguel figured it was safe enough to go check on the Galaxy Spider, but when he went back to the spot she had fallen, she was gone.

Miguel panicked.

If he came back without her, the wizard would certainly be pissed. Not to mention the other Spiders would be just as displeased. Miguel looked around, his eyes darting every which way. A glinting of some sparkles in the alleyway caught his eye, and he was moving towards them with as much stealth as he could muster.

"Shock, this isn't good. My first night on patrol with her, and she gets kidnapped!" Miguel muttered to himself.

"Perhaps you should be careful about this. Approach from the rooftop." Lyla's voice hit his ears and he scaled the wall immediately with his webbing.

Once on the roof, he made his way towards the other end of the alley. He was careful to remain hidden, but in efforts to do so, he couldn't get a good look at who was hauling her away. Every turn they made, he was always just one step behind, just getting a glimpse of the dark silhouette that held a sparkling Spider.

There were a few times he lost sight of them. Lyla couldn't pick up anything from the security cameras in the area, but his nose caught the scent of flowers in the air. He followed the smell. It was paired with whatever scent the man had, which smelled like some sort of designer cologne, mixed with cigarettes, liquor, and blood.

***

Series Masterlist

***

Notes:

I hope you are liking this story so far. Please let me know. Yes, I know I put she/her instead of you at the end. It's from his POV.

***

Special thanks to:

Beta readers/Ideas:

@einno-arko @theaussiedragon

Proofreader:

@iceclaw101

Tags:

@theaussiedragon @autismsupermusicalassassin @readingfan @missdragon-1 @marvelescvpe @lunar-ghoulie @cicithemess2000 @animesnowstorm @mahbeanz @dafuqelaine @bby-lupin @paranoiac-666 @konniebon @cl0v3r-s0up @seraphine-so-pretty @jupitersmoon167 @butterflypillows @ivystoryweaver @mintellaine @bxdbxtxh15 @badbishsblog @cleothegoldfish @xxmadamjinxx @bitchyexpertprincess @sakurayuki8655-blog @jklkverr @jkthinkstoomuch @oscarissac2099 @neteyamsluvts

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loudlooks · 4 months

Text

Day 17 - Spring cleaning

30 day challenge notes: quantity over quality, limited editing, stand-alone/unrelated stories unless specifically stated otherwise, not always tiva, chronologically randomly set in whatever pre-s11 season seems to fit

A/N: Tiva, Tony jumping to conclusions, making out. this was supposed to be 300 words of nonsense so I could write the spring break prompt as well today...something went horribly wrong. Thank you for the prompt @hopeless-nostalgiac!

Tag for blocking/following: 30 days of spring

Prompt: Spring cleaning

Word count: 1611

As he waited at her door, Tony briefly wondered if he should’ve texted her ahead of time. He shifted the three case files to his left arm, and knocked again. Seconds that felt like hours went by, and just as he was about to grab his phone and call her, the door swung open, revealing a rather disheveled looking Ziva.

“You need to work on your ninja hearing, I had to knock twice.”

“I was busy in the bedroom.”

Tony looked her up and down; messy bun with loose strands framing her face, a black hoodie with indecipherable faded logo that looked vaguely familiar but several sizes too large and definitely a man’s, bare legs and feet. His stomach clenched and he wished he had called her before coming over.

“Oh, right,” he mumbled and shifted the files back to his right arm.

At the sight of the files, Ziva asked, “Anything new?”

To his surprise, she walked back into her apartment, and grabbed a bottle of water from the coffee table. He frowned at the open invitation for him to follow her inside, and did so hesitantly, trying very hard—but failing—to keep his mind from wandering to whatever had been happening in her bedroom before he had interrupted.

“No...just wanted to go over things with you in a different setting.” He glanced in the direction of her bedroom. “But if you’re…busy, it can wait until tomorrow.”

Ziva swallowed the gulp of water she had just taken, and closed the bottle cap, then nodded at her bedroom. “No, in fact, we can do both at the same time if you read the files to me,” she said and walked away.

Seconds that felt like years passed as Tony stood nailed to the floor, trying to process her suggestion.

Ziva popped back out of the bedroom door and looked at him in confusion. At the look of horror on his face, she smirked. “I am not asking for your help, Tony, I know you hire people to do that for you.”

A feeling of dread took hold of him, yet his feet began to move on their own volition as soon as Ziva raised her eyebrows. He stopped a foot away from the door, waiting to hear voices…or worse, but heard nothing but Ziva’s bare feet on the carpet. With trepidation, he glanced inside the room.

A pile of clothes lay in the middle of the bed, and he released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. With a wide smile he took in the rest of the room; opened drawers, open closet door, boots and shoes strewn around the floor.

“Place looks like you got robbed,” he joked, as all tension left his body.

Ziva glanced around, moved the pile of clothes to one side of the bed to make room to sit, and simply said, “Spring cleaning.”

“Well,” he said dropping the files on the bed, “you’re nothing if not thorough.”

His inquisitive mind took over and led his feet straight to the chest of open drawers, as soon as Ziva turned her back to him. He poked around the neatly sorted underwear, and picked up a black lace bra. Holding it up to her, his mind conjuring images of her in it, he said, “I’ve never seen you wear this.”

Ziva turned around, narrowed her eyes, and snatched the bra from him. “The only time you’ve seen me in lingerie was years ago, for work.”

“We should do something about that,” he blurted out, grinning widely. As his gaze ran down her body, trying to bring back those memories, his mind came to a screeching halt as soon as the hoodie she was wearing registered again.

There may not have been a naked man in her bedroom like he had feared, but there was clearly a man in her life. Suddenly the thought of going through her underwear drawer had lost all of its appeal.

He sat down on the bed, and opened one of the files, as the hollowness in his chest expanded.

The mattress dipped next to him as she sat down, and looked at him expectantly. “Where do you want to start?” She grabbed a shirt from the pile of clothes, and began to fold it neatly.

Tony shrugged, flipped through a few pages while chewing his bottom lip. “Maybe…Walker’s testimony?”

Ziva stared at him intensely, then nodded and grabbed another item of clothing.

As Tony read the testimony, Ziva continued folding clothes and placing them on a pile on the bed. “I got nothing,” he said dejectedly, and closed the file.

Ziva frowned at him, grabbed a hoodie, and bumped his arm with her elbow. “DiNozzo’s don’t give up that easily.”

Tony shook his head vigorously, knowing she was right, but the focus just wasn’t there. He glanced at her, but didn’t have the will or energy to decipher what was happening behind those deep, brown eyes of hers. Following the methodical movement of her skilled hands was a lot safer, less confusing.

A fold here, a tuck there, the palm of her hand swiping over the logo, then placing it on the ever growing stack of folded clothes.

His gaze shot up to hers, then back at the gray hoodie with the red Buckeyes logo. He grabbed it from the top of the pile, undoing her handy work, and held it up. “That’s mine, I looked for it everywhere.”

Ziva opened and closed her mouth, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You gave it to me.”

“I did not,“ he said, and suddenly remembered a cold evening at the end of last summer when they were all at Gibbs’ for a barbecue.

Looking at the pile of clothes behind him, he spotted the frayed edge of a black sleeve, and pulled out one of his oldest Ohio State long sleeve shirts. “I never realized we went to the same college,” he deadpanned.

She held up her palms. “So I forgot to return a few of your clothes after borrowing them.”

“A few? If I had amnesia I would assume I lived here.”

Ziva rolled her eyes, and tried to grab the shirt from him, but he refused to give in. Tony’s interest in the shirt vanished into thin air as soon as their struggle became more physical and his nose ended up right behind her ear. The scent of her had sent his mind spiraling into endless possibilities that always ended up with her in his arms. He lied still on his back, and bit his bottom lip breathing heavily, as Ziva straddled him, holding the shirt above her head triumphantly.

The challenging look in her eyes, made him want to kiss the smug smile from her lips. As he dropped his arms, his hands made contact with warm, toned skin. His gaze was drawn to the strong thighs at either side of him, and as alarm bells rang somewhere in the back of his mind, his fingers flexed, and stroked automatically.

Part of him wanted to check her reaction, make sure he wasn’t crossing any boundaries. A more persistent part was drawn to her body and warmth like a magnet. He ran his hands up her thighs, muscles twitching under his fingers as he reached the waistband of the hoodie.

The hitch of her breath broke the spell long enough for him to finally meet her gaze. Her dark eyes full of want staring back at him made his whole body tingle.

Never breaking eye contact, Ziva dropped the shirt to the side, and placed her hands on his, while biting her bottom lip. She guided his hands higher, underneath the hoodie, over the thin strip of fabric covering her hips.

The sensation was too tantalizing and he could not resist looking, as his fingers tickled up her sides, hidden from view by black fabric. A small, red and white tag, right above the hoodie’s waistband drew his attention.

“Wait,” he said, his heart still hammering in his chest. He pulled his left hand back, vaguely wondering what he was doing as the loss of warm skin beneath his fingertips hit him, and fiddled with the tag. “This is mine, as well.”

Ziva looked down at him, mischief written all over her face. “Do you want it back?” she said in a voice that seemed to reverberate through his body and soul.

A halfhearted shrug was the best he could manage after his hands had, once again, found their way to her warm, bare skin.

“Fine.” With a seductive smile, she pulled the hoodie over her head and threw it in the direction of the bedroom door. “You can pick it up later, on your way out.”

Tony’s eyes went wide, and his hands held her thighs tighter. He licked his lips, and said, “Nice to know you were done organizing all of your bras when I got here.”

Ziva squeezed her thighs, and slid her hands up his chest, lowering herself on top of him at an excruciatingly slow pace. She rubbed the tip of her nose against his, breathing heavily, lips parted. “Why were you so hesitant to come in earlier?”

Tony’s hands slid up her bare back, holding her closer. He chuckled. “I thought there was a naked man in your bedroom.”

Ziva nipped at his bottom lip, then ran her rand hand down his side and under his shirt. Wagging her eyebrows, she said, “The night is still young.”

Tony grinned, and ran his right hand through her hair, pulling her head back lightly, exposing her neck. As he peppered her skin with kisses, he murmured, “Never realized spring cleaning could be this much fun.”

#tiva #tiva fanfiction #my fanfiction #30 days of spring

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