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seakicker · 6 months ago

Note

Could I ask your thoughts on Milf!Reader with either Kaveh and/or Alhaitham?

i decided to go with the or aspect this time but the idea of the and... much to think about. teaching these stupid idiots to share 101. i didn't mean to make alhaitham's milf so loserpilled but now im super into it lol she needs help asap amen. NSFT but just slightly since i didn’t delve too deep into smut with either… this time :p maybe i’ll write some continuations later!

alcohol in both sections, somewhat unrequited (depends on how optimistic you are, I suppose) feelings on reader's part in alhaitham's section, and public sex + drunk sex in kaveh's section below!

You seek Alhaitham out after tiring of the proverbial game of chicken he’s been playing with you these past couple of months. Frankly, you’re not convinced he’s half as into you as you’re into him, if his nonexistent track record of interactions with you is anything to go off of. He’s just the tenant renting out the spare bedroom in your apartment following your two daughters’ departure for college, and you’re just somebody he occasionally pays his rent to and assist with groceries— nothing less, nothing more.

Nothing less, nothing more… but being a single woman in her mid-forties and an empty-nester both already bring about a great deal of loneliness and longing by themselves, but together? One would—and should— call it miserable. Alhaitham largely keeps to himself when he’s home and your schedules don’t line up very well to begin with, so instances where you two cross paths are far and few between, but when the younger man is around, he’s courteous and cordial enough to make a good tenant… albeit a little cluttered.

You harbor a sense of guilt over finding a man just a little older than your collegebound children handsome, but living about a decade alone after divorce leaves you with needs and wants as human as food and water and shelter. Alhaitham is attractive, Alhaitham is polite and curt in a way that suggests a handsome sort of indifference, and you really, really don’t think he cares for you in any regard beyond the professional, but you can’t say your feelings are limited to the same boring boundaries. You want him in ways that are surely inappropriate between a forty-something-year-old woman and a twenty-something-year-old man, but what Alhaitham doesn't know can't hurt him because you are in absolutely no position to tell your tenant how you really feel about him anytime soon.

Except Alhaitham already knows how you feel without you needing to tell him how you really feel about him because you make it so incredibly obvious in ways beyond the verbal. You can't meet his eyes when you greet him, you stumble over at least half of your words every time you attempt to talk to him, and you absolutely refuse to step foot in his room even though you literally own it and, at least in his mind, have every right to access what's yours— though he certainly doesn't mind the privacy. Frankly, he almost considers your behavior entirely unbefitting of a woman your age—what are you, eighteen?— but something about your hesitant demeanor and reluctant way of speaking almost... charms him? No, that's certainly not the right word, he thinks— that would imply he's smitten with you, and he wouldn't go that far... but he does find you and your behavior somewhat interesting. You're certainly quieter and easier to be around than half of the people his age, and he doesn't take offense to having such a quiet roommate... you have his college roommate beaten on that front if absolutely nothing else.

Alhaitham doesn't drink much, but he's noticed you're somewhat of a habitual wine-drinker, particularly on the weekends and on the occasional weeknight once you're home from your desk job. You get a good deal more talkative whenever you drink, but his inclination to listen certainly doesn't increase alongside your temporary conversation buff. He'll nod absentmindedly and offer interjections where needed, but unless you manage to pique his interest, he doesn't have much to say... after all, he doesn't know you that well nor do you know him all that well.

You sigh, a sound as pitiful as it is longing. "Do you keep secrets well?"

Oh, that's something that manages to pique Alhaitham's interest.

He thinks for a moment before speaking. "I suppose. I don't gain anything from sharing secrets with other people." Not that he has anyone to share secrets with, of course... he's no more gifted in the friendship department than you are.

"I think I... have feelings for you. Is that inappropriate? It's not like you... not feeling the same way would jeopardize your living situation here," you mumble no louder than a whisper.

He almost wants to scoff with a smug I'm well aware of that, but he says nothing. He glances over at you, but his eyes only meet the top of your head, your own gaze reflected back at you in the swirls of your wine. Alhaitham wants to ask if you really, actually, truly like him or if your feelings arose from the hallmark middle-aged loneliness stage, but even he knows that your feelings are probably a fairly even mix of both aspects.

"Please say something," you almost beg, looking up at him. Oh, has he accidentally allowed the silence between you two to extend past the socially-acceptable "I'm thinking about it" phase and into the uncomfortable phase?

"I'm well aware of that." Alhaitham decides it's an appropriate and neutral enough reply because it's the truth, after all. He's known for months now, and what good does lying to you do? He's not a liar.

You can only describe the feeling in your chest as humiliation— of course he already knew because he's leagues smarter than you are and he still has his entire life ahead of him and you're just a desperate, lonely, needy housewife. The ball's in his court and you never learned how to play tennis.

Looking up to finally face him, you set your wine down on the coffee table before you. "Do you... hate it?" What kind of question is that? Of course he does.

Alhaitham sighs with something just north of resignation but without the regret attached to such a word, and you almost wish you had said nothing.

"Come sit," he offers, sliding over to allow you a spot next to him on the couch. It takes you a moment or two before you stand up from the loveseat and join him, leaving about an arm's length distance between the two of your bodies. Does he need to lay out everything for you?

In a rare display of initiative from a man who prefers to leave the bothersome work to everyone else, Alhaitham pulls himself closer to you. You worry he can hear your heartbeat right through your flushed skin and your thick sweater just as you hear it in your ears, but he doesn't comment further on any of your very, very apparent anxious expressions.

"Show me, then," Alhaitham offers, uncrossing his arms.

"I'm... sorry? Show you... what?" You ask, somewhat stupefied. Who needs alcohol when you have fear and tension to make you feel like garbage?

He leans in and offers you a gaze that almost feels challenging, like he doesn't believe you'll do a single thing he asks you to. "Show me how you really feel if you can't find it in yourself to say it."

Ah.

You don't want to even consider if he's just doing this to make fun of you or if he really, actually shares your feelings on some microscopic level, so you act before you have to think. Kissing him in a way you haven't kissed anyone in the ballpark of ten to twelve years ago, you let out a downright pitiful moan against his lips because the most basic display of affection feels so, so good after so, so long without it.

Alhaitham moves quicker than you do, and he has you down flat on your back against the couch before you can ask him if he really, really likes you or if he's just really, really bored tonight.

"If you'll have an old woman like me," you breathe quiet and pleading and ashamed against his mouth.

"Age has nothing to do with it," he replies simply, and such a matter-of-fact expression about how little your age matters almost comforts you in a sad way. "You're no less significant than anybody else. Having lived for longer and having learned and experienced what some never will already puts you a step above most."

"And, frankly," Alhaitham continues, lips brushing down the soft, soft edge of your jaw and across the warm plane of your neck. "I find that sort of conversation much more stimulating than whatever my own peers occupy themselves with these days."

You don't even attempt to bite back the whimper that escapes your mouth when Alhaitham firmly bites into the curve between your neck and shoulder, your eyes screwed shut and hands weaved tightly through his ashen hair.

"If I'll have you?" He repeats, hands searching south of the hemline of your sweater. "I suppose I will."

Kaveh seeks you out… in his dreams, at least. He can more easily picture himself peeling some paint off the wall, eating it, and asking for seconds than he can picture himself finally asking you out on a dinner date. He's sure there's some stipulation in the employee's handbook prohibiting relationships between employees and other employees and especially between employees and their immediate managers— which just so happens to be him and you, respectively. A salaryman dating his beautiful, forward, confident, and double-his-age manager? Yeah, right— that sort of thing happens in films and novels, not in the playing field of reality.

He's had it in for you since he started two years ago, for better and for worse— having a crush on one's supervisor makes them eager to please and, subsequently, makes them a harder worker, but said crush also begets daydreaming and accidental slacking while still on company time. Kaveh can't even feel too embarrassed when you stop by his desk and scold him for simple mistakes in his filed paperwork because he'll take any single opportunity he can get to see you—whether you're happy or just slightly angry with him, it makes zero difference to recently-graduated man in love.

Maybe it's the way you command a room and your little team of desk jockeys, maybe it's the way you dress in form-fitting skirts and blouses that hug your soft body, maybe it's the appeal of someone with both professional and life experience guiding him, or maybe it's your sultry and maternal manner of speaking that drives Kaveh through the roof. Maybe it's the way you stand behind him and lean forward over his shoulder to check the work on his computer screen, maybe it's the way you sweetly call his name during team-wide presentations and meetings, maybe it's the way you and him are consistently the very final two people to leave the office at the end of the day, maybe it's the occasional invitations to go out drinking together Friday evenings immediately after work, maybe it's the...

God. Kaveh almost feels guilty staying in a job he doesn't particularly care about just so he can see his lovely forty-one year old boss every single day. Desk jockeying leaves little room for creativity which absolutely hurts somebody as imaginative and innovative as Kaveh, but he's sworn to himself that he will not seek out a new job until he takes you out on a proper date at least once.

And, no, Friday night beers at a local bar don't constitute a "proper date."

Friday night rolls around just as it does at the end of every monotonous workweek, and Kaveh doesn't miss a beat in accepting your invitation to go out drinking. The recent end of the third financial quarter has kept both you and Kaveh up to your hairlines in paperwork, so the two of you haven't been drinking since sometime in early July— and to say he's missed your little rendezvous would be an understatement. Whenever work really picks up and the rivers of printer ink, white-out, and ballpoint pen ink all flow aplenty, you barely have the time to check in with him and his coworkers between all the hours you have to spend away in your office locked to your own desk. He starts to miss you like he's a lost puppy; isn't that just embarrassing?

You're on your third or fourth beer and Kaveh's only halfway through his first because he knows he's a lightweight— he couldn't match your pace if he tried. He listens dutifully as you complain about your higher-ups and how that ginger asshole in finance always has something smug to say and how that stoic gray-haired dude who works just a few rows down from Kaveh has awful handwriting, and he finds it endearing that you're just as... human as everyone else is when you're like this. He loves seeing you in Office Demon Work Mode and he loves seeing you with your hair down, your neck ribbon untied, and your blouse unbuttoned... for more reasons than just getting to see you relax for once.

God, you're beautiful.

By the time you've cleared your last beer (Kaveh stopped counting after five) and Kaveh has finally, finally finished his first and only, you're sufficiently and thoroughly plastered. Without any rational judgement to remind you that this is your employee and not your boyfriend, you're clinging to his arm and whining about how stupid life is when you're forty-one and unmarried since you hardly have time to go out and meet men with how busy work keeps you. Even if he had the courage to, Kaveh would never offer himself as a potential dating candidate for you since you're his boss and he knows you're far, far out of his league anyways.

"Hey, Kaveh," you breathe in a way that's just barely toeing the line between innocent and sultry, and he has to really, really force himself to take it as the former. "Walk me back to my car? I'd fall asleep on the side of the road otherwise."

"You're not driving anywhere," Kaveh answers without missing a beat, helping you to your feet and thanking the bartender as the two of you leave. "You know you can't, ma'am."

"'Ma'am," you parrot, snorting. "That makes me sound so old. Young ladies get miss and us hags get ma'am, right?"

Kaveh reminds himself to pay no mind to the feeling of your breasts pressed against his arm as you walk side-by-side, but the more he has to force himself to think or look or focus on anything else, the more he notices you and only you. How could he even try to divide his attention between you and anything else?

"Aging isn't a bad thing," Kaveh musters up, holding on tight to your hand so you don't stumble off the curb. "You get to experience more the longer you live, right?"

"I've experienced enough!" You laugh. "I want to be twenty again so I can drink six beers and wake up without even a hint of a hangover the next morning. That doesn't happen at forty-one, you know; I won't be normal until next Friday now."

Kaveh chuckles. "Ma'am, you don't have to invite me to drinks every week if it makes you sick."

Glancing up at him as he clumsily fishes in the pockets of his trousers for his keys, you send him a pout so cute it nearly makes Kaveh drops his keys. "And miss out on my guaranteed dates with my star employee? Yeah, right."

Guaranteed dates.

Star employee.

"I just mean, like," Kaveh stutters, unlocking his car and guiding you towards the passenger seat. "We could get dinner instead of going to a bar, you know?"

"Are you asking me out? I accept," you purr, clumsily flopping into your employee's car and wrestling with your purse. "But, in return, I want to ask you to do something, too."

Sliding behind the wheel and turning to face you once more, Kaveh takes a split second to pray and pray and pray to every single god he's aware of that you'll invite him on a date so he doesn't have to experience the potential humiliation of a sober you declining his offer.

"My house," you whisper, leaning in so close he can smell the residual beer on your breath.

Kaveh knows he should decline, he knows he should just drop you off and help you inside then leave, he knows that if he accepts your offer he’ll regret it Monday or lose his job or hate himself or ruin your opinion of him or—

“I’m already dropping you off, right? I’ll already be at your house for a second then I’ll head back to mine and—“ He’s tripping over his works so clumsily one would figure that he’s the drunk one, not you. You only press a finger to his lips and shh him teasingly before leaning in slowly, your eyelids heavy and your lips parted invitingly.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Kaveh,” you whisper, your other hand sliding across the center console to rest on his right thigh. “I’d have to be stupid to not pick up on it. You freeze up and turn bright red when I walk by your desk and stop to see what you’re doing. You accept little tasks I give out to the whole team before anybody else has a chance to step in. I know it, dearest.” You slide your finger across his lip and cup his cheek in your palm, your thumb resting lightly on his bottom lip.

Kaveh prays you can’t hear his heartbeat drumming in his ears, but he subconsciously leans closer to you anyways and taking your thumb in between his lips.

“Just like this,” you continue. “Such a sweet boy… such an eager boy. Younger men are the best, hm? I want to give you everything you’ve thought about… I’ll show you all the love I’ve been saving for forty-one years.”

He knows he shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, and yet… he wants it. He’s earned it. He works so hard for himself and for you and he wants you so, so much more than you know.

“Spend the night with me, Kaveh,” you ask again, reaching to cup the painfully obvious bulge tenting his nice, neat worn slacks. “Consider it a demand from your boss or a request from a cute girlfriend, whichever makes you hornier.”

Releasing your thumb from his lips with a moan, Kaveh nods and reaches for your breasts. He doesn’t care if you’re only saying this because you’re drunk— what does he have to lose? He’s won a night with you and that’s all he’s ever wanted.

“I’ll take care of you, ma’am.”

#alhaitham with a loser girl and kaveh with a sultry girl like if u agree #i imagined both in a modern au since that was my vibe tonight #spicy #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #nsft #cw age difference #cw alcohol

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