#juju bakery

[seakicker]

☆ My Next-Door Neighbor is an Annoying Older Woman Who Constantly Bothers Me

☆ between: college au!scaramouche x milf!reader

☆ synopsis: scaramouche insists he doesn’t want to fuck the milf living next door, but all his friends think he doth protest too much.

☆ word count: 10.5K words

☆ a/n: like with my venti x milf!reader fic over on ao3, this is supposed to give a sort of doujinshi vibe, hence the embarrassing title and the lunacy of some ideas like milf!reader going outside in a super sheer shirt. hopefully you feel the doujinshi vibe i was going for as i have a lot of fun trying to replicate the style, themes, and flow of doujinshis using only text!

☆ contents: fem + plus-sized reader (reader is explicitly described as chubby, busty, and taller than scaramouche), age gap obviously; scaramouche is a senior in college and reader is in her early 40s, degradation, a couple insults (such as scaramouche calling you a hag/loose/etc.), degradation, exhibitionism (scaramouche fucks you in front of a glass sliding door), sexual frustration, and unprotected sex + scaramouche pulls out

also posted to ao3 with the same title and under the same username!

Scaramouche has a problem.

Well, a problem slightly more irritating than the approximately nine hundred other problems he deals with on a daily basis. These issues include, but are not limited to, the consistent problems he has with the hot water heater in his apartment, his obnoxious group project teammate Ajax who insisted upon being the group’s leader despite his complete and utter lack of intellect, his annoying circle of friends that always seem to find ways to poke their noses into Scaramouche’s business, his frustratingly-dull history professor that always goes off on tangents completely unrelated to the class’ subject matter… and so on and so forth. It’s one issue after another; there’s always something when it comes to Scaramouche.

A matter more pressing than all of those other nine hundred issues put together, however, comes in the form of his next-door neighbor— you.

You’re a divorced woman in your early forties who lives by herself, works during the daytime while Scaramouche is on campus, and always seems to leave and return home at the same times he does. He moved in next door to you a few months ago at the start of his junior year, but you’ve never really gotten the chance to get to know him beyond the curt responses he gives you when you ask how he’s doing or what he did over the weekend. His coldness towards you doesn’t make too much sense— have you somehow offended him without knowing? You like to consider yourself a good neighbor: you don’t party (like a woman your age would ever do such a thing), you don’t blast loud music long into the night (or at all), you take good care of your things and avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche or your other neighbors, and you’re very, very tidy. When you’re in the mood to brag a little, you’ll say that you have the nicest balcony in the entire apartment complex.

…Avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche, huh? He’d beg to differ.

If Scaramouche has nine hundred problems in his life, then maybe it’d be more accurate to claim that you’re the cause of at least seven hundred of those problems rather than claiming that you’re one single, self-contained issue separate from all of those other problems. Maybe it’s the way you insist upon butting your way into his life and, in what must be your way of expressing it, “taking care” of him that irritates him more than anything else. Really, if he had to sum up your advances in one word, he’d have to go with aggravating.

At first, he bitterly wondered if you’re just some senile old hag using him as a replacement for your son, who’s surely moved out by now given your age. All you are is a woman looking to cure her empty nest syndrome by doting on someone her son’s age according to Scaramouche— he viewed your kindness as underhanded and delusional because he can take care of himself, you know. He’s an adult man living on his own; he knows how to navigate the trials and tribulations of young adulthood without some old lady insisting upon knocking on his door and gifting him home-cooked meals, bringing up his mail from the first-floor mailroom, or helping him with chores where you can. It’s not like Scaramouche would ever let you into his apartment, but that hasn’t stopped you from finding ways to help outside by sweeping outside his front door or washing the outside of his front window while he’s not home.

Okay, maybe it’s a little creepy to wash your neighbor’s windows without him asking you to help out, but it’s not like he’s going to do it. You would know— you had once waited a week to see if he’d clean up a spilled drink stain on the walkway in front of his door. As you expected, he never got around to it, so you happily cleaned it up on his behalf. Cleaning up for him doesn’t really put you out of your way either— whenever you sweep his doorway, it’s because you were already outside tidying up in front of your place; why not help out your neighbor in the process?

When you bring him meals you prepared yourself, it’s out of the goodness of your heart and because you can’t help but worry about a college boy’s diet— fast food, pizza, frozen microwave meals, and instant ramen don’t have all the nutrients a hardworking man needs. When you bring him his mail, it’s because he has a tendency to forget about it until his mailbox is, quite literally, overflowing. Whereas you check your mailbox every single day, Scaramouche seems to forget about his until the end of the week, which is certainly no way to live— what if he misses an important bill or notice? As a result, you took it upon yourself to check his mailbox for him whenever you go to retrieve your own mail.

Again, maybe it’s a little creepy to gather your neighbor’s mail, but it’s not like you’re hurting anyone, right? You certainly don’t root through his mail or open any of it. Even though Scaramouche rolls his eyes and mumbles a halfhearted little “thanks” every time you hand him his mail, he doesn’t really seem to mind. Despite his initial reluctance to accept any of it, he still eats the food you prepare for him if the empty containers he returns to you a few days later are any indication of that fact. You figure maybe he’s just a little shy or tired from his long day on campus— it does your heart well to know that he’s working so very hard.

On the flip side of things, Scaramouche considers your… activities a total inconvenience. He’ll admit that your meals taste very good— though he’d never say it to your face— but he doesn’t like feeling indebted to you or thinking that he owes you something even though you’ve told him multiple times that your favors don’t need any payback. You’re just happy to cook for someone other than yourself, you had told him once, confirming Scaramouche’s suspicion that you live alone. It’s not his fault you’re bored enough to make food for someone you barely know, so do you have to rope him into your wiles? He already has groceries and though he doesn’t really know how to cook, what’s wrong with having a bowl of cereal for dinner? It’s none of your business, is it?

Between your constant insistence on involving yourself in his life and the fact that he’s never seen anyone else leaving or entering your apartment, Scaramouche was able to correctly guess that you live alone… a realization that can’t help but annoy him. He figures that if you had someone, anyone else in your life like a spouse or another child living with you, you’d stop pestering him and stick to involving yourself in the lives of your family instead of your neighbor.

Would a pet do? Should he find some stray kitten and leave it on your doorstep? Is that what it’d take to make you mind your own business?

“Hey, Kuni, tell me about your little neighbor lady again,” Venti coos, accidentally knocking over his—thankfully�� empty beer bottle when he leans forward to grab his phone. He’s drunk, but that barely makes a difference; he’d still make this request sober.

Glowering around the mouth of his own bottle, Scaramouche rolls his eyes in Venti’s general direction. “Why? If you want to know that hag so badly, go talk to her yourself.”

Venti busts out laughing, an action that his drunken body clearly can’t handle seeing as he falls sideways into Aether’s shoulder, making the latter grimace in response. Venti’s already a handful sober, but when he drinks… it takes the entire friend group to get him home and/or in bed safely. “Don’t threaten me with that, ‘cuz I really will do it— I’ll go steal your hot older girlfriend.”

Glaring up at him from his spot on the rug, Scaramouche has half a mind to shove that empty beer bottle into Venti’s eye for suggesting such a thing. Hey, wait a minute— why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor when this is his damn apartment?

“She’s not my fucking girlfriend,” he barks, turning to direct his glare at Kazuha too when he hears him chuckle.

“The more you deny it, the less convincing you are— you talk about her all the time, so I’m inclined to believe you really are dating,” Venti chirps, reaching for a bottle of beer that is most certainly not his.

“That’s mine,” Aether protests, watching as Venti takes a sip from his bottle anyways.

“Oops, my bad.” He doesn’t sound sincere.

“Well… get me another whenever you stand up.”

Venti waves his hand dismissively before redirecting his attention back to the more important matter at hand— Scaramouche’s complete and utter inability to just admit that he has the hots for his hot MILF of a neighbor and that any protest otherwise is a feeble attempt at hiding the truth.

“They say you’re attracted to things that make you mad,” Venti says. “…Cuteness aggression. Yeah. I saw a video about it once.”

“That’s not what cuteness aggression is, and ‘they’ say that you attract the things you fear,” Kazuha corrects him from his spot in the nearby armchair— again, why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor?— before he goes to take another hit off his blunt.

Venti repeats what Kazuha said in a nasally voice in an attempt to mock him, but the gesture only makes Kazuha chuckle again. It’ll be hard to draw any response more eloquent than a single laugh or a sigh out of him for the rest of the night— it’s a very, very stark difference from how he usually is.

“Why the fuck do I ever invite any of you over here?” Scaramouche sighs, taking a long swig from his own bottle. He doesn’t even really like the taste; it’s something Venti found on sale and decided to bring over, but Scaramouche has decided it’s better than spending his Friday night sober. Besides, it’ll take at least four more of these to deal with the impending conversation that he’s been trying so hard to pivot away from since Venti first brought it up.

“Because we’re best friends forever, next question. Why do you deny how much you wanna fuck your sexy neighbor, Kuni?” Venti asks again, pouting when Aether snatches the bottle Venti stole from him. “It’s super obvious. Xiao and Heizou agree with me, and I’m not just saying that because they’re not here tonight and can’t contest me on it. It’s true.”

Kazuha nods, and Aether simply shrugs. Christ alive, do they all think the same thing?

“And why on Earth do I— in theory— want to fuck her? She’s probably loose or something,” Scaramouche argues.

Venti busts out laughing again.

“It’s the opposite, really,” he starts, glancing between Aether and Kazuha when neither of them laugh along with him. “What, have you guys seriously never been with an older lady? They’re the best; the reason I know Kuni wants to get with that lady next door is because I got with the lady next door to me a couple months ago. It takes one to know one, or something. Trust me, Kuni, I know what you’re going through and we are seriously gonna get through this together.” Why is he making it sound like a relative died or something?

“They’re experienced,” Venti sighs longingly, blindly reaching out again for the bottle Aether’s holding, who moves it further away and out of Venti’s reach. “They feel really, really good. They actually know what they’re doing… sometimes the girls—and guys, mind you, I’ve gotten with plenty of both— our age clearly don’t know they’re supposed to be doing, but getting with somebody’s mom…”

“You’re gross!” Aether gasps, though his pink cheeks tell a different story.

“Not as gross as the guy who’s told us the same story about seeing his neighbor lady braless like four times now,” Venti replies, glancing over at Scaramouche with a grin. “Really left an impression on you, huh, Kuni?”

Just like that, Scaramouche finds himself instantly reminded of, well, the time he saw you braless first thing in the morning. A few months ago on some random Saturday morning, Scaramouche was out smoking a cigarette on his porch when you stepped outside to water the plants you keep on your balcony. There were so many of them: a small tomato plant, a pot overflowing with basil that you took to trimming after you finished watering everything, a couple of hanging baskets field with flowers, and a few other vegetable plants and potted succulents. More glaringly obvious than the abundance of plants occupying your balcony was your complete and utter shamelessness— even a quick glance in your direction was enough to draw Scaramouche’s attention to the distractingly sheer fabric of your white camisole.

It’s not like Scaramouche was actively staring at your tits— really, he wasn’t, he swears— because anyone would notice something that egregious. The low, low sweep of your camisole around your ample bust, your nipples beading up against the thin fabric, the constant fucking movement of the top as you shifted and bent over to water the plants sitting on the ground, moved, and walked, all of it. He complained to his friends about your complete and utter shamelessness— What kind of woman steps outside practically naked? he spat, much to the amusement of Venti, who had said that wearing a thin shirt does not, in fact, make one naked.

Worst of all, you had actually fucking caught Scaramouche staring, an action that made you grin wickedly and run your hands down the sides of your soft, plump body as if to try and draw his eyes down along with your hands. Instead, Scaramouche had only whipped his head to the other side, busying himself with tapping the ash off his cigarette as if it were the most important task he’d ever complete in his life. Jesus Christ, he was only staring because he couldn’t believe you’d be so shameless as to wear something like that outside, not because he was genuinely aroused by how low your camisole sat on your chest, how big your tits are, how soft they look…

He thinks he shuddered then, and he insisted to his friends that it was because of a sudden chilly breeze and absolutely nothing more. It was either that or because he was just so shocked by your display that a shiver went down his spine— he can’t even remember the exact reason he gave anymore.

Either way, none of them really believed him.

“Ah, he seems distracted,” Kazuha notes simply, raising a hand to point at Scaramouche before grinning. His words pull Scaramouche from his little daydream, and he groans at the realization that, yes, he spaced out remembering yet another instance of your abhorrent shamelessness and perversion.

“Spaced out thinking about cute MILF boobs, I get it,” Venti affirms, nodding. “Nobody gets that more than me. Not only that, but you’ve also, uh, ‘complained’ to us about seeing her in her swimsuit. Really, Kuni, it’s like you’re biding your time and waiting for her to take her clothes off so you can tell us about it.”

…That’s a story for another time. Scaramouche has had enough of thinking about you for one day; it’s bad enough that you brought him his mail today just mere moments before Venti, Kazuha, and Aether arrived to hang out— what if they saw you?— but to be reminded of the image of your tits underneath that pathetic excuse for a top…

He shakes his head and takes a long, long sip from his bottle.

“And they’re so soft, Kuni,” Venti says, slumping over further into Aether for support. “They feel like absolutely nothing else. I feel like firmness or perkiness or whatever is really, really overrated— the softness of a cute MILF’s boobs is unrivaled!”

“Can you not say things like that right into my ear?” Aether mumbles bashfully, making Venti laugh.

“Why? Am I gonna put the mental image of MILF boobs in your brain, too? Are we gonna become an entire friend group full of MILF chasers? That’d be hilarous. I already know about Xiao’s little crush on his English professor.”

Jesus, Scaramouche has got to steer this conversation somewhere else or he’ll go mad. “Anyways,” he beings, “Where is that pizza you ordered ages ago?”

“I thought Kazuha was taking care of it,” Aether remarks, glancing over at him. Kazuha goes to reply, but nothing comes out— yep, he’s gone for the night. He won’t be able to get out any more than four words max until morning.

As if the universe heard their request, the doorbell rings to signify the arrival of dinner. Before Scaramouche can go to pull himself up off the floor—he really should make Venti move; it’s his couch in his apartment— Venti’s already in the process of skipping towards the door. Aether takes the opportunity to kick his feet up over the other couch cushion, making Scaramouche wonder if the three of them formed some secret pact to ensure that he stays on the floor the entire evening.

However, what stands on the other side of the door is not, in fact, the pizza delivery boy. It’s you, aluminum foil-covered glass casserole dish in hand, leading Scaramouche to believe that while the universe did hear their request for food, the devil answered by sending you to his doorstep while he has three of his friends over.

“Oh! You’re not the pizza guy,” Venti beams, putting on his best ‘polite’ voice possible. Scaramouche groans and looks over towards his other two friends just so he doesn’t accidentally make eye contact with you, but neither Aether nor Kazuha look back at him. They’re looking at you.

Christ, he’ll never live this down. Not only do they know who you are, they now know what you look like.

“I’m not,” you giggle. “I live next door; I bring food to Scaramouche sometimes whenever I get a little too excited in the kitchen and make too much. I can’t eat the leftovers fast enough before they go bad, and I would hate to waste food, you know?”

“You can call him Kuni,” Venti offers. “We all do. It’s less of a mouthful, don’t you think?”

Scaramouche decides that Venti will be leaving his apartment in a body bag tonight.

His cheeks burn with equal parts humiliation and anger, and the realization that his friends’ teasing is only about to get worse now that they know who you are and what you look like more than motivates Scaramouche to devise a plot to kill the three of them.

After introducing yourself to Venti, he smiles and replies that “the pleasure is all his” when you tell him it’s nice to meet some of Scaramouche’s friends. Venti has half a mind to invite you inside for a moment, but he decides that’d be unnecessary— he figures he’s already done more than enough to inspire Scaramouche into action. If Scaramouche won’t act on his feelings himself, then maybe a little shove from his friends will help him along.

“That’s sweet of you!” Venti praises, taking the dish from your hands. “I’m glad Kuni’s eating properly these days. One time, he told us that the only thing he survived off of during finals week was a sleeve of Saltines and some peanut butter. You’re so kind, miss.”

You giggle sheepishly, a sound that Scaramouche would like to claim grates his ears. Miss? Can’t Venti see that you’re, well, old? “Well, I’m glad that he has such kind friends to support him. You all take care, okay? You too, Scara— Kuni!” You call out past Venti’s shoulder, making both Aether and Kazuha chuckle.

After bidding farewell to the four in what has to be the most mortifying moment of Scaramouche’s entire life, you leave, allowing Venti to close the door behind you and make his way back to the others. “Those boobs are huge,” he sighs dreamily, looking up at the ceiling. “If I got suffocated between those, I would die a fully satisfied man.”

“Then go die,” Scaramouche mutters in agreement, cheeks still burning with humiliation. Why does the universe insist upon tormenting him so?

Eyeing the dish in Venti’s hands, Aether pipes up too “She cooks for you? Kuni, you have it so good.”

Scaramouche is amazed that, after all this time, his friends still find it in them to be jealous of him despite all of his attempts at framing you as annoying, invasive, and overbearing. Can’t they see that you’re doing this on purpose?! Scaramouche has half a mind to wonder if you’re psychic— what other explanation is there for your obnoxiously perfect timing? He asks about food and suddenly you appear on his doorstep, dish in hand as if you had heard him through the walls. There’s no way they’re that thin, are they?

Venti moves to set the dish down on the kitchen countertop before turning around to look Scaramouche square in the eye. “Kuni, I’m saying this because I respect you as my longtime friend,” he asserts, tone and gaze both deathly serious in a way that’s genuinely almost out of character for someone as flippant and carefree as Venti. “But you better fuck that lady the first chance you get because, if you don’t, I’m taking her for myself.” That should do it.

Scowling in response, Scaramouche crosses his arms over his chest and sighs bitterly. “Why would I stop you? I don’t care what you do with her. For the last fucking time, I’m not into her.” Despite his words, Scaramouche can’t deny that there’s something… unsettling about the idea of Venti getting with you. Does he really want to watch his friend take four A.M. booty calls in order to fuck the woman living right next door to him? Can Scaramouche truly stomach the idea of his friend fucking the brains out of someone just a few walls away from where he lives? It’s hard to put his finger on why, but something about Venti getting with Scaramouche’s neighbor, despite his insistence that there truly is nothing between the two of them, really, really irks him.

Well, it’s probably just because a lot of Venti’s behavior tends to irritate Scaramouche in the first place, right? Yeah, it’s probably just that. He doesn’t need to hear every last gritty detail of his friend’s sexual trysts.

That characteristically smug grin of his finds its way back to Venti’s face as he reaches over Aether’s shoulder and snatches his beer bottle again. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. How about we forget the pizza and eat what she brought over?”

“Oh, I see now,” Kazuha interjects after having been silent for the past twenty minutes. He turns his phone around to show Scaramouche, Venti, and Aether the check-out screen on the pizza chain’s website. “It seems I failed actually submit the order; it was still waiting for me to pay.”

Scaramouche doesn’t have a hangover the next morning, a blessing he owes to the fact that he only ended up drinking two beers last night. He probably would’ve consumed more if he had the chance to, but Venti blew through the rest of the box quicker than the other three could try to stop him. It took both Kazuha and Aether supporting Venti’s hardly-conscious body to get him down the stairs to the parking lot so they can drive him home— there’s no way Venti would be able to safely get himself home amidst such an awful hangover.

As he pokes through his apartment scooping up empty beer bottles and stained paper plates to toss into a trash bag, the glass casserole dish sitting out on the kitchen counter catches Scaramouche’s eye. Save for a few scraps shoved into the rounded corners of the pan, it’s practically been picked clean— the four boys tore through it easily with Venti, Kazuha, and Aether all fawning over just how good a home-cooked meal tastes after months of campus cafeteria food, fast food, and instant ramen. Venti mentioned that there’s just something about a MILF’s cooking that makes it so much better, leading to a conversation about how, in Venti’s educated opinion, older women just do everything better: sex, cooking, cleaning, caretaking, all of it.

Scaramouche scoffs at the memory. “She’s nothing special,” he mutters to himself, still failing to understand Venti’s obsession with somebody he’s never even met until last night. Scaramouche is the one who’s actually been living next door to her for months now— as his friends know by now, he has plenty more to say about her than Venti does.

Shouldn’t he be the one to comment on things like the size of your bust, the softness of your legs, the plumpness of your ass and belly, and the flavor of your cooking? He’s the one who’s actually seen you lounging in tiny string bikinis by the apartment complex’s pool, watering the plants out on your balcony in a pair of shorts that certainly break publicly decency laws, and retrieving your mail in a shirt so thin he can make out the little bumps of your nipples up against the fabric.

“Christ, what am I thinking?” Scaramouche stops himself and second-guesses whether or not he’s actually hungover. There’s no way his sober mind would drift to thoughts of you, right? Clearly something must be wrong with him— he blames Venti for putting all these thoughts in his head with his never-ending discussion of what makes older women so utterly sexy.

He’s then reminded of what Venti told him right before they all sat down to eat your cooking: that if Scaramouche won’t hurry up and fuck his neighbor, Venti will do it for him. Even now, the idea still bothers him for reasons he just can’t quite put his finger on— Venti’s been with tons and tons of people; why does he want Scaramouche’s neighbor too? Can’t Venti see how awkward that would be?

Setting the trash bag down on the floor, Scaramouche takes to the sink to wash out the casserole dish you brought over for them last night. His mind concocts disgustingly vivid images of you as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn piece of dried cheese, and maybe he’d be shocked by how little effort he’s putting into warding those thoughts away if he weren’t so utterly immersed in them. His mind conjures up the image of you in that tiny black bikini he saw you wearing by the pool while he was out smoking on his balcony— he remembers the little number being so small that you had to readjust it every single time you simply sat up or lied down because every last motion was enough to threaten a nipslip. It makes him wonder if you dress like that on purpose or because you’ve deluded yourself into thinking that clothes and swimsuits you used to wear still fit you despite clear evidence otherwise— are you actively vying for the attention of any man who’ll give it to you, or are you brainless enough to throw something on without caring about how poorly or not it fits?

It’s probably a mix of both; you’re just that shameless.

Scaramouche grits his teeth at the mental image of you straddling him while adorned in that tiny little bikini that seems to only get tinier and tinier the longer he allows his imagination to run wild. Of all the fucking things to imagine you doing…

He pictures what you’d look like with your thick, plump thighs enveloping either side of his hips as you run your hands up and down your ample chest and soft stomach. God, he can see it all now: the little bumps of your nipples beading up against the thin fabric of your swimsuit, the soft hang of your tummy spilling over the tiny, flimsy string keeping your bottoms secured around your wide hips, the way your tits would bounce as you ride him…

“Something’s wrong with me,” he grumbles, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. The clump of cheese he’d been scraping at finally separates from the pan, and he realizes that if he wants to rid you from his mind for good, he should take matters into his own hands before Venti does.

No, wait, this has nothing to do with Venti— this isn’t about staking claim over you before any of his friends can, this is solely about him finding ways to release the grip you have on him as if you’re some kind of wicked succubus. Scaramouche glances downwards after setting the dish aside to dry and, much to his chagrin, finds that the mere thought of you was enough to fucking get him hard. The eager press of his cock against the confines of his briefs moritifies him solely because of the very reason why he’s like this in the first place; how the fuck did the thought of you in a bikini so tiny your areolas peek around the sides reduce him to such a state? He’d like to believe that he’s only this hard because it’s been a while since he’s jerked off, but that would be an excuse less believable than any of the ones he’s ever given his friends.

He knows that he’s too dignified to jerk off to the thought of you— if he’s feeling horny, then surely he can find things more deserving of his attention than some hag next door. He refuses to give you that kind of satisfaction (despite the fact that you’d never even know unless he told you, so how could you be smug about it?), so he decides that an ice-cold shower is in order before venturing out to settle things with you.

After a shower so cold Scaramouche swears he saw his fingers begin to turn purple, he dries off, gets dressed in something other than the clothes he fell asleep in last night, grabs your clean casserole dish, and leaves to go to the one place he wouldn’t have ever imagined himself stepping foot in— your apartment. If this is what it takes to sever the connection between you and his mind…

God, this is going to be annoying, Scaramouche thinks as he knocks on your door using his foot, casserole dish supported safely by both of his hands. He feels the need to steel himself because he just knows you’ll answer the door in something sheer, skimpy, or some combination of the two and he needs to be ready for that.

Why? Are you hoping for that to happen, Kuni? Venti’s voice whispers from the back of Scaramouche’s mind.

He really is losing it.

“Good morning— oh, Kuni! This is a surprise,” you greet him upon opening the door, flashing him a smile so bright it nearly makes him cringe. Can you spare him the pleasantries so he can just get to the point?

Fucking Venti— why teach her that nickname? Turning his head to look at a faraway bird instead of you, Scaramouche scoffs. “I need to talk to you.” Straight to the point, emotionless, and rude, it’s all so in-character for your neighbor that you can’t help but giggle.

You grin wider. “Of course. Come in; I’ll put a pot of coffee on.”

Scaramouche waits until you’re a good few steps ahead of him before following you inside, glancing around the living room of your apartment as he makes his way to the kitchen table. Your apartment’s clean, impeccably so at that— every book on your bookshelf faces the same direction, the blanket draped over the back of your couch doesn’t have a single crease, and he can’t see even an ounce of dust on any inch of your tables and countertops.

He snorts a little. Rather than viewing the cleanliness as impressive or inspiring, he bitterly interprets it as a testament to your overabundance of free time and lack of other hobbies or pastimes.

“I’m not sure how strong you like your coffee, so I’ll just make it how I normally do,” you pipe up from the kitchen, pulling Scaramouche away from scrutinizing the titles of the books on your shelf. Restless Summer Nights? The Devil’s Mistress? They all sound like bargain bin erotica novels.

It was a mistake to direct his attention away from your novels and to you instead, he figures, because only now does he get a look at what you’re wearing— if one could even call that clothing. You’re dressed in something he wants to call a workout outfit, but anyone leaving the house in an outfit like that surely has goals other than simply exercising— they want to attract attention. A sports bra that sits so low on your chest that a single bounce on an exercise ball would expose you combines with a pair of spandex leggings so tight they reveal the lines of your panties to comprise your “workout outfit,” and to say that Scaramouche is mortified would be an understatement. He can’t help but find the combination of your manner of dress and your collection of novels completely pathetic.

And despite his apparent disgust… he’s been staring at you long enough to pick up the most minute details about your outfit. The indifferent passerby likely wouldn’t notice your pantylines— a certain amount of staring is required to actually notice them; they’re really not obvious from a quick glance. Actually, why can’t he stop looking at you? He writes it off as a simple morbid curiosity at how someone can be so completely and utterly shameless— one could almost liken his sick, cynical fascination with your ample curves and soft body to rubbernecking.

Scaramouche instead stares down into the cup of coffee you’ve set in front of him like it’s the most fascinating object in the entire world. He’s half-inclined to just close his eyes entirely, seeing as the slightest glimpse of your bust still occupies the uppermost part of his peripheral eyesight when you sit down in the chair opposite of him.

“So,” you start, sliding a porcelain dish with a small bowl of sugar cubes and a saucer of creamer his way. “What can I help you with? It’s rare for you to talk to me first, Kuni.”

He adds “drop that nickname” to his mental list of topics to bring up with you. Scaramouche plucks a few sugar cubes from the bowl before him and drops them into his coffee before absentmindedly stirring the liquid with a serving spoon.

“Last night,” He clears his throat. “Why did you come over to talk to V— to my friends?” Why are you always in my business? he really wants to ask, but he feels like you’ll start crying if he presses you too firmly.

And that’d just be obnoxious.

You giggle. “That makes it sound like I came over on purpose because I knew you had people over, and that’s not true. Haven’t we been in the habit of food delivery and acceptance for months now?” Scaramouche’s eyes follow yours to the squeaky-clean casserole dish he placed on your counter.

“I’m glad your friends seemed to enjoy the food just as much as you do,” you add sweetly, pursing your lips and blowing on your coffee to help it cool down.

“It was humiliating,” Scaramouche counters, a statement that prompts you to look up from your coffee and make eye contact with him. “They wouldn’t— they wouldn’t stop fucking talking about you after you left.”

Wait, that’s not the point here, is it? Surely Scaramouche’s main complaint isn’t that Venti practically sweet-talked you right into his bed, it’s that Scaramouche is tired of you invading his business and his space, right? He doesn’t care about Venti’s comments about your soft tits or your wide hips, he doesn’t care about Aether’s bashful confession that he exclusively jerks off to older women, he doesn’t care that he has competition because there’s nothing to compete over and he’s really, actually, truly angry that you always find a way to worm your way into his days and his mind and his free time and his wet dreams and his—

“Oh, I’m flattered,” you reply simply, sipping your coffee and smiling around the rim of the cup. “They’re such nice boys. I’m glad you have such sweet friends, dear.”

What’s warmer: the tips of Scaramouche’s ears or his untouched cup of coffee?

“That’s not— what? That’s not the point I’m making and you know that,” he grimaces, clearing his throat again. “My friends shouldn’t have to put up with a shameless old hag the way I have to.”

You set your cup down. “That’s not very nice. I look good for my age— that charming boy down at the corner mart always asks for my ID whenever I pick up some wine!”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “That’s his job. Anyways, I’m telling you to mind your own business.”

“Oh, is that all? Of course I can do that for you.” Your reply comes without a single skipped beat.

“I mean it, that means don’t touch my mail and— what?” Wait, there’s no way you’re making this this easy. A shameless, conniving, lustful, lewd seductress of a woman like you agreeing to just… fuck off at the first request? Scaramouche doesn’t buy it— this is just another phase of your plan to throw him off guard and pull the rug out from under him so you can sink your claws deeper and deeper into him.

“I like cooking for you and cleaning for you, and I was very happy to meet your friends yesterday, but if you want me to stop, of course I will,” you explain. “I wonder who’ll help me eat my leftovers now… your friend from last night gave me his phone number; does he like potato soup? I’m making that tonight.”

Scaramouche almost, almost feels a shiver tear down his spine. He’s starting to believe that Venti’s just as much an antagonist in this situation as you are.

“Why the fuck did you accept his number? Delete it,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and glaring over at you. His coffee’s surely gone cold by now, but that’s alright— he was never much of a coffee drinker anyways.

You shrug, a sly smile forming on your lips. “Oh, I don’t know. He was so sweet I didn’t want to say no… it’d give me someone new to talk to, if nothing else.” Why do you need to talk to Venti when he barely knows you and I’m right fucking here?

“It’s not like you talk to me much despite all my best efforts, Kuni,” you offer him the subtlest of pouts, an action that would look out of place on the face of a woman your age if you weren’t so… if you weren’t so…

Forget it, he’s not saying anything about you that could be interpreted as a compliment. “…Especially now that you and I have agreed to leave each other alone.”

Oh, Scaramouche doesn’t like this feeling. He hates feeling like a situation has spun out of his control, and that’s, unfortunately, exactly what he feels is happening here. You’ve agreed to his terms and you’ve promised to stay out of his way, so why does he feel so… angry?

Yeah, you must have some underhanded motive here. Why else would you be making this so… easy? That’s not like you at all— he was expecting you to fan your eyelashes, pout your lips, push your tits forward, and whimper that you’re sorry and that you’d love to keep talking to him, so will he please give you a second chance?

I’ll do anything, he was sure you’d say.

You clear your throat. “Well, is there anything else you’d like to discuss now? If not, I’ll get back to my yoga. It’s good to be active, right?”

What the hell? You’re ending the conversation? No way, no how— this ends on Scaramouche’s terms, not yours. Who do you think you are?

“No, that’s not it, actually,” he blurts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Staying out of my business means staying away from Venti— from any of my friends. Don’t talk to them, don’t text them, don’t— I don’t know. Don’t be around them.”

You smile a little wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous, Kuni.”

He scoffs, staring you directly in the eye as if to challenge you. “Seriously? Shit joke.”

Of all the adjectives you could have picked to describe him… “It’s just that the thought of you getting with Venti is nauseating, alright?”

You hum. “And why him specifically, hm? You had other friends over last night— are they single?” Jesus Christ, what is this, an interrogation? And where the hell are these sorts of questions coming from— did you already send Venti an invitation to hook up?

Sneering so hard his nose scrunches up, Scaramouche can’t help but feel appalled. “Did you decide I’m not good enough or something? Who do you think you are?”

You go silent.

Scaramouche, somehow, goes even quieter than silent when the weight of his words finally sets in. There it is— the culmination of your grand plan to humiliate, embarrass, and utterly demean him in your own home. You had this outcome planned from the start, didn’t you?

“I didn’t say that,” you stammer, attempting to correct yourself. “Why do you think I’ve been vying for your attention all this time? Of course I like you, Kuni.”

God, how you piss him off. Who do you think you are— some bashful schoolgirl confessing to her first crush?

“I know that I’m just an old woman and that you could certainly find a cute, young, perky college girl whenever you’d like to, but if you’d ever like me…”

Of course Scaramouche could get someone his age from one of his classes— he doesn’t need to settle for some loose old hag— and yet… the thought of you getting with anyone else, Venti or not, pisses him off in a way he can’t quite describe. Maybe he views himself as some kind of hero protecting everyone else from your shamelessness, maybe he views himself as the only one worthy of your attention as the one who has to put up with you the most, maybe he views you as someone actually, genuinely worth being with…

He sits up a little straighter. “You have no idea how obnoxious you are,” he mutters. “Taking up my time and attention even when you’re not around.”

“What a forked tongue,” you reply, leaning forward and, much to Scaramouche’s chagrin, pushing your breasts together with your hands. “You know that’s why I like you, right? Mean boys have always been my favorite— ever since high school.”

“You’re not worth the time,” he spits. So fucking annoying. So fucking shameless. What kind of woman your age behaves this way, anyway? So obnoxious, so pathetic, so intoxicating, so impossible-to-keep-out-of-his-mind—

“Venti sure seems to think I am,” you offer with a smug, self-satisfied smile as you rise from your seat. Hooking your thumbs up under the straps of your sports bra, you quickly snap the elastic fabric back against your shoulders to give your tits a little bounce, an action that, of course, does not go unnoticed. Slapping his hands down flat against the perfectly-ironed lacy tablecloth covering your dining room table and standing up so quickly he nearly knocks his knees against the table’s hardwood underside, Scaramouche laughs.

What a time to finally, finally accept that he has the hots for his neighbor— the same neighbor who’s supposedly the cause of so many of his bad days and sour moods. You’ve prompted many a disdainful mutter from Scaramouche after catching a glimpse of you through your drawn curtains, you’ve been the subject of many a snide comment made in the presence of his friends, and, most frustratingly of all, you’ve inspired countless, countless inappropriate thoughts that he cannot believe you’ve been the subject of.

And all it took was one of his friends hitting on you for him to realize that.

“Constantly flaunting a body like this,” he chides in a way that he wants to come off as insulting and condescending rather than sadistically flattering, but the little grin you offer in response gives him reason to believe you interpreted it as the latter. Seriously?

“Other boys your age seem to enjoy the flaunting,” you counter, slipping your thumbs into the waistband of your spandex leggings. As if to tease the act of pulling them all the way down your legs, you flip the fabric of your waistband over its seam to expose the majority of your soft lower belly.

Anger burns hot behind his pale cheeks. “Is this some kind of pathetic hobby of yours? Fucking guys half your age?”

“I like to consider it a lifestyle,” you reply, shimmying your leggings further and further down your thick thighs until your thong’s completely exposed. A black lace thong— how becoming of a nymphomanic like yourself. “I’m fine with trading experience for virility and stamina; do you know how many men my age finish in thirty seconds and call it there because they’re ‘just so tired’? College boys either go until they can’t hold themselves upright or until they have nothing left to pump into me.”

There’s that vulgar nature that’s both irritated and (subconciously) aroused him for months. He wants to believe that your disgusting nature doesn’t make his cock twitch, but the time for pretending has clearly passed. You don’t believe he finds you ugly or unappealing and neither does he anymore.

“And do you find this… lifestyle fulfilling?” Scaramouche challenges, grimacing at the pressure building in the frontside of his tight jeans.

You laugh. “Is that your way of saying you don’t? Are you a virgin, sweetheart?”

“Of course not. Just because some of us don’t fuck everything with two legs and a pulse doesn’t mean we’re virgins.” His clumsy escapades are none of your business— his high school girlfriend and that guy from the concert Venti dragged him to over the summer don’t concern you.

Bending forward to push your leggings down to your knees, you gaze up at Scaramouche through your eyelashes and giggle. “Don’t make it sound like I don’t savor every last cock or strap I ride. You could put every last one of them in front of me and I’d be able to tell you who they belong to with my eyes shut.”

Venti mentioned something about experience, didn’t he? What a sanitized way of calling older women complete and total whores.

The inferiority complex in Scaramouche wants to prove that he’s the best thing a whore like you will ever experience, that he can make you feel better than any of the other bumbling college morons he probably knows can, and that you’ll give up your ways of fucking everyone that looks at you in order to devote yourself to him and him alone. That’d be some nice payback for all the pain and humiliation you’ve subjected him to these past couple of months, right?

No, he has a better idea.

“If you want to show yourself off that badly,” Scaramouche huffs, doing his damndest to ignore the nearly-painful throbbing in his jeans. “Then I’m sure you’d be fine with doing it in front of that glass door, right?”

With your hands still bunched in the fabric of your leggings, you look back at the glass sliding door that leads to your balcony and bite your lip. It’s not likely anyone would actually see you— you and Scaramouche live on the third floor— but it’s still a possibility and an exciting thought nonetheless. Maybe you could give that nice redheaded quarterback boy you fucked a few months ago a nice show; he lives just across the parking lot in the building parallel to yours.

“Now who’s the deviant one? I’ve never fucked anywhere more public than a nightclub’s bathroom stall,” you tease, finally pushing your leggings all the way down and off your legs. He doesn’t believe you, but Christ, those thighs of yours look soft…

You accept his offer nonetheless and make your way over to the balcony door, your thong riding high on your wide hips and your hardened nipples pressing into the flimsy fabric of your pathetic excuse of a sports bra. “You’re helping me wipe off all the fingerprints afterwards,” you scold, inviting him over with a wiggle of your hips and a glance back over your shoulder.

Now, rationally, Scaramouche would never propose the idea of fucking in a place as public as right in front of an apartment complex parking lot. He’s never considered himself an exhbitionist and he’s always been somewhat obsessed with his image, and people who care about their image generally don’t have sex in the potential presence of others. Additionally, there’s probably something to be said about him potentially getting caught fucking the same woman he’s spent the better half of this past year complaining about, but the current irrational, horny, angry Scaramouche wouldn’t listen to better judgement or rationality anyways.

The relief that comes with unbuttoning his jeans and giving his almost painfully-hard cock room to breathe is so euphoric he can’t help but sigh, the throbbing in his crotch more aggravating than any pounding headache he’s ever experienced after an evening drinking with his friends.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” he laughs, incredulous. “To think the hag living next door to me is the reason I’m like this.” Jamming the weight of his bulge into the plumpness of your soft ass, Scaramouche seizes hold of your hips in both of his hands and gives the fat of your love handles a painful squeeze just to hear you suck the air in through your teeth.

“I thought you’d never come around, you know,” you breathe, beyond eager at the prospect of finally, finally getting to fuck the neighbor boy you’ve been actively working at breaking for months upon months now. A guy this mean, this arrogant, and this demeaning doesn’t come around that often, especially when so many of the guys you get with take the polite route by calling you “ma’am” and complimenting you over and over again— which certainly isn’t a bad thing, but cruel has always satisfied you in ways that kind cannot.

The height difference between the two of you means that Scaramouche has to stand up a little straighter than he normally does in order to press his hips against yours, a realization that’s only slightly humiliating. Granted, it could never compare to how humiliating it was for you to show up at his apartment in front of all his friends.

God, does it feel good to put you in your place.

“Spread,” Scaramouche mutters, knocking one of his feet against both of your ankles. He doesn’t tell you that he needs you to spread your legs so your hips will lower a bit, allowing him to reach them a little more easily since you’re a bit taller than he is.

You would tease him for skipping the foreplay and just jamming himself right into you, but you know that you’ve been plenty wet enough ever since your discussion with him first wandered to sex and masturbation. Well, that, and if you had to wait another minute to get the cock you’ve been so desperate for for so long now, you very well may go crazy. It’s taken months, but you can already tell that it was all so, so worth it.

Running his knuckles down the center of your thong, Scaramouche relishes in the smug satisfaction that comes with realizing that you’re wet. It’s equal parts arousing and equal parts pathetic— just how desperate are you for any cock you can get your hands on?

“You’ve already kept me waiting for months,” you say with a pout cast back at him from over your shoulder. “Why make me wait even longer when I’m right here?”

“Shameless and impatient,” he remarks with a frustrated huff. “Can’t you do something good with your life or yourself for once and just be quiet?”

As tempting as it is to make a teasing quip in return to only further rile up your angsty neighbor boy, a frenzied giggle is the only sound you can muster up when you feel the firm press of a cock against your clothed pussy. Even through your flimsy thong, you can tell that he’s hard, which is a reward in its own right. It’s what you’ve wanted to achieve since the very first time he caught you half-naked watering plants on your balcony— is it so wrong for you to want to rile up the cutie next door?

Scaramouche roughly yanks your thong down to hang around your lower thighs, leaving you entirely on display for him when you follow suit by tugging your sports bra up to your collarbone. The cool, smooth glass against your bare tits is an unfamiliar sensation, but it’s certainly not an unwelcome one— especially when you remember that anyone could look up from across the parking lot and get an eyeful of your bare tits squished up against the glass door.

“I wish I could watch you sink it in for the first time,” you hum, reaching down between your legs to part the outer lips of your cunt for him a little wider. “In front of a mirror or something maybe. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because you’re the spitting image of the romantic type.” There’s no way you consider him the romantic type, is there? He’s not going to hold your hands and whisper in your ear about how cute you are, you know.

Damn it, you’ve got him actually wanting you more than he’s ever wanted you before— this makes all his filthy fantasies about taking you bent over your kitchen counter or being underneath you while you ride him into oblivion look like a cheap, budget porno from a video rental store. His desire has always been real—albeit subconscious, sure—but it feels so much more genuine now that it’s been realized.

“Don’t say a word about this to anyone,” he mumbles in a brief moment of humiliation, biting into his bottom lip as he finally, finally sinks the full length of his cock into you.

Jesus Christ, if there’s anything Venti’s ever been right about, it’s how good a mature pussy feels. You’re soaked all the way down to your inner thighs, you’re so warm Scaramouche nearly feels his knees give out from underneath him, and you squeeze him so well he can feel your pussy gripping the sensitive underside of his tip.

“Why not? I can invite your friend next time,” you propose, squealing with delight when Scaramouche slaps a hand down against the side of your ass. “Venti, right? It’d feel so good to have my ass used while you—“

“Just shut up,” he hisses bitterly, glaring at you hard enough to give himself a stress headache. “Don’t talk about other guys right now. Especially not ones I know.”

“You’re right, it’s rude to talk about other men when I have such a good one right here with me already,” you feign sympathy, pushing your hips back flat against the front of his thighs. “Oh, Kuni.”

There’s that damn nickname again. As much as he hates the idea of you using it to tease him or fluster him, he can’t deny the way his dick twitches whenever you coo it in that soft, sultry tone of yours. It’s like you were custom-made to gobble men up or something— just how many of his classmates have you fucked?

Oh, it doesn’t matter. Not when he knows he can establish himself as the best of the whole damn lot of them. Not when he knows that he gets the privilege of seeing you every single day and nobody, nobody else does. Not when he’s seen your cute nipples peeking at him through that tiny, flimsy pajama top he caught you in all those months ago. Not when he gets to peruse on over to your apartment whenever he wants because you’re right fucking there and nobody, nobody is physically closer to you than he is.

Jesus, this is all starting to sound like some kind of crush.

“How’s that?” Scaramouche taunts, slapping his hips against you so wildly the sound of skin smacking on skin almost drowns out his voice. He’d like to claim that this sort of pace is supposed to be punishing, and he’d be right if he were to say that, but he wants it hard and rough just as much as you surely do. He couldn’t stop his hips even if he wanted to because he knows there’s nothing he’s wanted to do more than fuck your brains out for months upon months now.

You don’t answer him, too preoccupied with relishing in the feeling of his cock pounding into you with everything he’s got. How befitting of Scaramouche to fuck you like he’s angry at you— if he could even claim to be mad anymore. The combined sensations of his hips hammering against yours, his fingernails digging into your soft, plump love handles, and his balls slapping against your ass on each thrust are all far too overwhelming to even attempt a reply.

“Seriously? You run your mouth for ages and now you shut up when I ask you a question?” You’re doing this on purpose— Jesus, you’re insatiable.

Your back arches when Scaramouche digs the tip of his cock into a particularly sensitive spot inside of you, a broken whine leaving your lips instead when you attempt to reply with a dirty quip. He laughs when he realizes what’s just happened— that’s certainly one way to get you to shut that filthy mouth of yours.

“I hope somebody’s watching you, actually,” he admits despite all the jealousy even a single mention of his friend stirred up in him. “That way they can see you’re not worth their time because you don’t value yourself whatsoever. Why would anyone want someone who’s happy to just give themselves away like this and get fucked in a place so public?”

Maybe that’s just a weird, roundabout way of saying I want someone to watch me fuck you so they know a whore like you has been whipped into shape and that you only want me now. Who’s to say?

“You don’t care about getting caught yourself?” You finally pipe up with a grin.

Scaramouche snorts. “Getting caught with the likes of you? I’d transfer universities.”

You pout. “Would I still get to see you?”

For whatever reason, the question catches him off guard. How many times does he need to remind you that you’re not his girlfriend, that you’re not some sweetheart with an innocent crush, that you’re just his fucking neighbor who just so happens to have a hot body and just so happens to feel so, so good around him like this and just so happens to be the subject of his wet dreams and fantasies and—

He’s only able to spit out one word. “Obnoxious.”

His hands reclaim a firm grasp on your ample hips before he takes to fucking into you at a whole new angle— one that’ll surely hit that spot that got you to shut the fuck up moments ago. Your hands clamor for anything you could possibly grab onto to steel yourself, but there’s nothing except for the cool, flat glass beneath your palms.

“Kuni,” you rasp in a broken voice, beyond impressed with his ability to have found your most sensitive spot and target it specially. Call it sheer dumb luck or a testament to how perfectly compatible your bodies are, it doesn’t matter. He won’t let up on it until you’ve collapsed— maybe it’ll be a nice change of pace from your partners being the ones to collapse after an evening with you.

With the task of finding something to hold onto having proven fruitless, you instead slip a hand back between your legs to rub at your clit. Scaramouche snickers at your apparent desperation to orgasm, but he’s not letting you off that easily.

“What a pathetic display,” he remarks, pounding into you so quickly you can barely register the full length of his cock before he’s pulling it all the way out of you again. With your legs trembling and your knees buckling, the possibility of actually collapsing underneath him is becoming increasingly likely— these wild, frenzied thrusts of his prove exactly why you’re so into college guys.

Looking down from the fuzzy reflection of your face in the glass, Scaramouche watches each sink of his cock into your tight, dripping cunt with all the intensity and attention of a virgin. It may as well be his first time— you feel so fucking good he’s starting to lose his train of thought. You take him all the way to the hilt on each thrust so easily that he’d absolutely call you a common whore if he were able to form even a single word.

Despite his inability to form a coherent sentence, Scaramouche finds that he has just enough rationality left to pull out mere seconds before coming all over the swell of your ass, his cock twitching in his hand as he bites back moans. Here he is, coming all over the soft ass of his obnoxious older neighbor lady after spending so many months convincing his friends that he does not, in fact, want to fuck her.

You laugh breathlessly, the hand between your legs still rubbing frantic circles over your clit as you attempt to reach your own orgasm as well. “What’s wrong with coming inside? I’m hurt.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. That’d be irresponsible.

“Well, that’s alright,” you chirp, standing upright and turning around to face him. “I can always wring it out of you myself, right?”

“You’re insatiable,” he replies, inching backwards towards the couch as you step forward in time with his footsteps.

“Pot, kettle. You’re still hard, Kuni.”

With the realization that he’ll need some kind of excuse to offer his friends when he inevitably returns to a slew of unread messages a few hours from now, he falls backwards onto the couch just before you make yourself comfortable in his lap.

Well, not that any of them have ever believed any vague, half-baked excuse Scaramouche gives.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Good (hopefully) morning Father, I know you have seen the "prikolai" version of the ship name, but today I bring you this from a fellow Russian comrade: пряник (pryanik, I guess it's a better match in Russian phonetics) which means "gingerbread".

Somewhere here is a joke about a whole bakery...

Juju I can't omg that is too fuckin' good. I lost it at "a whole bakery". There is so much cake there. Many buns. Aallll the bread. Price with red in his beard and hair in the right light?

[yunalinwrites]

jjk fics i'll never write (but maybe you will!)

i have a bunch of fic ideas i dont think i'll ever get to bc saved by the bell is taking rlly long and i don't have a lot of time (╥﹏╥)

i still wanna see them come to life tho so i think im just gonna throw them out there for anyone who wants to use lol

idk maybe ill write these eventually but even in that case im not gonna stop anyone else from using them as well

go ahead and alter however u like, but tag me if u use!! im letting u peek in my brain >:)

and even if ur not a writer these can just b like imagination prompts for when u go to bed LMAO

"love is work" - nanami kento x reader

summary: title is self-explanatory tbh--the idea that nanami kento views love as work could be applied to any scenario. but, i think it would be interesting for the reader to be the person he meets at the bakery. maybe the bakery is a family business, so the reader's work is literally driven by familial love. although, im not sure if that means they agree or disagree with nanami about love being work.

alternatively, the reader could be a co-worker of nanami's.

conflicts/themes:

serving oneself vs. serving others

what makes love/work worth it?

"meet cute" - fushiguro megumi x reader

there are so many canon strangers to lovers opportunities with megumi lol.

like, being the person "hitting on" (asking for directions from) fushiguro during that one juju stroll.

or the person getting robbed and saved by the 1st year crew, also from juju stroll. (also applicable for yuji and nobara x reader)

there's also the light novel chapter where megumi and yuji stalk gojo at a maid cafe, so maybe the reader works at the maid cafe, and the very stoic but handsome megumi catches their eye. this scenario could also be applicable to yuji x reader or gojo x reader.

there's also an original scenario i was thinking of cuz megumi likes reading (specifically non fiction) so what if the reader was a worker at a book store or a librarian. maybe they know about sorcery already because they read a non-fic book about it and recognize his uniform when he walks in.

also i haven't seen a megumi x tsumiki's friend!reader, esp considering that one girl when tsumiki is confronting megumi about bullying lol. this one could have an interesting conflict bc that girl urged tsumiki to do the test of courage that ended up getting her cursed! so then how would megumi deal with his love interest (the reader) also being the person somewhat at fault for his sister's demise?

not a meet-cute prompt but generally i think it would b interesting in any megumi fic for gojo to be a conflict. like, as megumi's father figure, he doesn't want megumi to end up like him and suguru, so he's very hesitant about letting megumi fall in love with someone since "love is the most twisted curse of them all." but i think in the end, he might realize that love/the reader is exactly what will stop megumi from turning into suguru, so gojo ends up giving the reader his blessing.

"sugar makes blood thicker" - geto suguru x reader

tw: spoilers for gojo's past/hidden inventory/star plasma vessel/premature death arc, angst, DARK CONTENT, self-destructive behaviors, self-harm, eating disorders

summary: reader is a student at jujutsu high in 2006, alongside geto and gojo. reader is from the kamo clan and uses blood manipulation. they've been taught to keep a very strict diet to optimize the viscosity of their blood. just like how geto hates the taste of cursed spirits, reader hates the taste of their diet. they fall in love with each other, because they've finally met someone that makes them feel understood.

if you want to go even darker, the reader's technique may involve cutting (kind of like marie from gen v)

conflicts/themes:

what's the point of fighting for a world that's done nothing for you in return? ("what has the world done for me lately?")

sugar makes blood thicker, which i can imagine is harder to control for a blood manipulation user

gojo satoru is the opposite of the reader: he eats however he pleases, which includes lots of sweets, so it's hard for the reader to be around him/doesn't like him. as a result, it's also hard for geto to have to pick sides between his best friend and the reader

ending: canon ending; geto chooses reader over gojo; they turn evil and run away together with nanako and mimiko. although it could also be interesting for geto to choose gojo over the reader, or if there's somehow a happy ending for everyone here.

I have no title for this one but gojo x megumi's older sister reader

self-explanatory. during the 2006 arc, after gojo kills toji. they raise megumi together <3

"if only i could go back" - any character x reader

summary: this is pretty self-indulgent lol this one's for everyone who wants to heal everyone's trauma and just have a happy ending lmao. i had this idea of the reader either being a sorcerer or a curse who has the power to grant one wish but in doing so sacrifices themselves (they die). so, obviously, they're in high demand by everyone:

megumi wants to heal his sister

gojo wants to bring suguru back

geto wants to rid the world of non-sorcerers

toji wants his wife back

shoko wants her friends back

etc

some situations the reader may find themselves in are being held at the school so that nobody can use their power unless absolutely necessary. or maybe they were captured by the curse users.

technicalities about the reader's power: they can't grant their own wish, but they have full autonomy over whose wish they can grant, meaning the only way that someone could get their wish granted is through befriending and persuading the reader.

conflicts/themes:

characters having to choose between their wish (which kills the reader) and their fondness of the reader (wanting the reader to stay)

will they truly be happy if their wishes are granted?

how does the reader feel about being the method of people's desires but not actually being the desire?

***

alr im done yapping

[bevswashere]

Koi No Yokan

Juju Stroll: Ideal Type

Q!! What is your ideal type?

Shoko Ieiri Second year-student. "My ideal type? Uh... They'd have to like raunchy movies. Oh! And they should be able to outdrink me!"

Yu Haibara First-year student. "A girl who can eat a lot of course!"

Otsuka Mariko First-year student. "He'd have to be able to cook. Oh, and he should keep his hair clean and have good hygiene. Oh, and he should take me shopping often. And be funny. Oh! And he should also have a stable job, but shouldn't be 'all about work.' Oh, and a nice family too. And he should like cats, and dogs, and birds, and animals in general. He should also be very firm about what he wants—but not so firm that it's overbearing, you know? Did I mention he should be able to cook?"

Geto Suguru Second-year student. "Someone who's confident in who she is. With a kind heart too. That'd be nice."

Kento Nanami First-year student. "Why are you asking me..? Er—a practical woman, I suppose. One who can appreciate simple things. She'd enjoy early days off and fresh bread from a bakery... Don't ask me a question like this again."

Uematsu Kaede First-year student. "Mm... someone unpredictable?"

Gojo Satoru Second-year student. "Beautiful and strong, obviously! But not so strong that she doesn't need me. She should definitely need me."

[uptoolateart]

Some Love Square holiday snaps from Paris - Part 2:

Visiting the Eiffel Tower - some weird juju happened to make Marinette and Ladybug appear at the same time:

At the Musee d'Orsay:

At the Grevin Wax Museum:

If you look reeeeeaaally hard at the bottom, you'll see Marinette outside her bakery:

A full moon over Paris:

[crimsonxveil]

LOCATION: JUJU DELIGHTS BAKERY MUSE: BETH GREENE

Beth was settling into her new normal but didn't mean she didn't miss her family, miss her children and the community she had built but on the plus size in this world there was no zombies. She didn't have to always lose people to death or see the ones she loved get torn apart. She didn't always have to worry how many supplies she had or anything like that but she just wished there was another familiar face in the city. She was standing in line at the bakery wanting to get some donuts to bring to the little ones at the daycare.

[ejsandfarkleslovebot]

Family Time (Original chapter set in season 3)

J

uniper loved to travel. As a superhero, her life was a whirlwind of responsibilities, leaving little time for rest or relaxation. It felt like every time she tried to take a break, another villain or natural disaster called her away. That's why her upcoming trip to New York meant so much. It wasn't just about sightseeing or indulging in her love for bustling city streets; it was about family. 

Her uncle, Micah, lived in the heart of Manhattan and had been begging her to visit for years. Micah wasn't just family; he was her rock during tough times. Whenever Juniper felt overwhelmed by the weight of her double life, a quick call to Micah always reminded her of who she was beneath the cape: just a small-town girl with big dreams.

Juniper could hardly contain her excitement as the plane landed. She didn't mind plane rides honestly. She always loved looking out the window to see the clouds and the landscape below. And with her headphones and some good music, it wasn't so bad. The only thing that could've made it better would've been Henry being there, too. She was going to miss him while she was away.

She looks over when she felt a gentle hand on her arm, finding her mom looking at her with a smile. "You excited?" Brynlee asked her daughter.

"Very," Juniper nods, returning her smile. "This is gonna be great. I haven't seen Uncle Micah in so long. Now I get to meet Alina too!" Micah and his wife recently had a baby girl. Alina was now a couple months old and was adorable as ever. With all the photos she seen of her, Juniper was excited to meet her new cousin in person.

Juniper's heart fluttered with excitement when the plane landed. She and her mom gathered their carry-on, and she followed her mom off the plane, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as her mom did the same. The thought of seeing Uncle Micah and meeting baby Alina filled her with warmth. She could already imagine Micah's bear hug, the smell of fresh bagels from the bakery near his apartment, and the adorable tiny coos of her new cousin. As they disembarked, Juniper glanced out at the towering skyline in the distance. New York's energy always managed to amaze her, despite having been there many times before. There was something about the city that made her heart race and her eyes sparkle with wonder.

As the pair approached the baggage claim, Juniper spotted a familiar figure waving at them. Her eyes lit up, and she hurried toward her uncle, unable to contain her excitement. Micah pulled her into a hug, his signature bear hug that always made her feel safe and loved. She grinned, hugging him tightly and closing her eyes, inhaling his scent, something she'd always associate him with.

"Hey, Juju," Micah greets her, using the nickname he gave her when she was a kid. She was used to it and even found it sweet that he still called her that. He released her and smiled warmly at her, ruffling her hair. "Look at you, all grown up. It's so good to see you."

"You too," Juniper smiles back at him, her eyes shining with happiness. "I've missed you."

"We both have." Brynlee spoke up, coming over and pulling him in for a hug. "It's good to see you, Micah."

Micah grins and hugs her back, always happy to see his older sister. "And it's good to see you, Bryn. How was the flight?"

"Good, thank you," She replies, smiling at him. "Just this girl couldn't stop talking about how excited she was to meet Alina." Brynlee said with a playful grin, nodding toward Juniper.

Micah laughed warmly, reaching out to ruffle Juniper's hair again. "Well, you're in for a treat. Alina is already the star of the show at home. Naomi says she's got me wrapped around her little finger, and honestly? She's right."

Juniper beams, her heart melting at the thought of finally meeting her tiny cousin. "I can't wait! I've seen so many pictures, but I bet she's even cuter in person."

Micah chuckles and nods, guiding his family to the exit. "Naomi's back at the house with her. You'll meet her soon."

The trio made their way through the bustling airport, chatting excitedly about their plans for the visit. Juniper clutched her backpack, her thoughts racing ahead to meeting baby Alina. Her uncle's warm laughter and her mom's playful teasing filled her with a sense of home, even amidst the busy New York crowd.

As they stepped outside, the cool city air greeted them, along with the cacophony of honking horns and distant street performers. Juniper smiled as she took in the lively atmosphere, her gaze darting to the iconic yellow cabs zipping by. Micah led them to his car, a practical but stylish SUV, and helped load their bags into the trunk. Juniper hopped into the back seat, her excitement bubbling over. She pulled her phone out when she got a message, smiling at seeing one from Henry asking if she got to NYC yet.

"Let me guess, by that smile, it's Henry?" Micah teased, starting the car. He hadn't seen the boy in awhile, but he's heard enough about him to know he was important to Juniper.

"Of course, who else?" She chuckled, quickly typing a response, letting him know that she had made it safely to New York and was heading to her uncle's apartment. She felt a little flutter of warmth at the thought of him checking in, but she pushed the feeling aside, eager to focus on the new memories she was about to make with her family.

As they cruised through the streets, the energy of New York seemed to wrap around them like a blanket. Juniper couldn't help but feel a buzz in her chest every time she saw the towering buildings, the billboards flashing with vibrant colors, and the mix of voices blending together in the air. She'd always loved the city's unique charm, and seeing her uncle driving through the streets brought back so many memories of the visits she made throughout her childhood.

The drive to her uncle's house in the outskirts of the city didn't take long, and as they neared his neighborhood, Juniper's heart pounded with anticipation. She could barely contain her excitement, fidgeting with the necklace she wore (one that Henry happened to give her for a birthday) and bouncing her leg. When the car finally pulled into the driveway, she was out of the car in an instant, practically vibrating with excitement.

"I take it she's excited to meet her?" Micah chuckled, glancing at his sister with amusement.

"Mhm, she's been waiting for this since you announced the news." Brynlee nods, smiling fondly. "She's really wanted to meet her."

"Well, let's not keep her waiting," Micah replies, getting out of the car and joining his niece. "Let's head in before Juju explodes from excitement."

Juniper rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. She grabbed her bag and rushed toward the front door, not even bothering to wait for her uncle. She bounced impatiently, waiting for the door to open. The sound of keys jingling reached her ears, and the door swung open. Juniper's heart soared when she saw her aunt, Naomi, standing in the doorway.

"There's my favorite niece!" Naomi greeted, her voice full of warmth. She opened her arms, and Juniper immediately rushed into them.

"'M your only niece." She mumbled, but the smile never left her face. She hugged her aunt tightly, relishing the comfort of her familiar embrace.

"Doesn't mean you're not my favorite," Naomi replies, her tone teasing. "And look at you, all grown up. My gosh, you're practically a grown woman now. How did this happen?"

Juniper laughs, stepping back as she looks amused but smiles. "I'm not yet, but time flies, doesn't it? I feel like I was just here yesterday, visiting as a kid."

Naomi chuckles, her eyes soft with affection. "You've always had such a big heart, Juju. It's so good to have you back."

Juniper nods in agreement, smiling fondly, feeling the warmth of her aunt's words. "I've missed you so much, Naomi. I can't wait to finally meet Alina!"

Naomi's face lit up with pride. "She's been keeping us busy, that's for sure. But she's absolutely perfect." She stepped aside, gesturing for Juniper to come in. "Come on, she's right here. Let me introduce you to your little cousin."

Juniper practically skipped into the house, her eyes wide as she took in the familiar surroundings—this had always been her second home. The living room was cozy, filled with soft lighting and family photos, but what caught her attention immediately was the soft cooing sound coming from the nearby nursery. Naomi led her to the room, and Juniper's heart skipped a beat when she saw her. Alina was sitting in a soft pink crib, playing with a stuffed bunny. Her tiny fingers grasped the bunny's floppy ears, and as she noticed Juniper entering, her eyes lit up with curiosity. A soft giggle escaped her lips as she reached out toward Juniper, her chubby hands stretching toward her.

Juniper's heart melts at the sight. "Oh my gosh," Juniper whispers, kneeling down to get closer. "She's even cuter than I imagined."

Naomi smiles, standing next to her. "Told you. She's got that effect on everyone."

Micah joins them, chuckling as he nods. "We call it the Alina Charm. Can't resist it."

"Can't say I disagree," Juniper murmurs, watching her little cousin in awe. "She's just so precious. Oh, I'm gonna spoil her so much." She reaches out, grinning when one of Alina's little fingers wrap around her own. "You're so adorable. I'm so happy to finally meet you." She cooed, her heart swelling with love. The one year old stared back at her, her expression curious and innocent. A few minutes pass, and it's obvious Alina had grown a liking to her. She babbles happily, a toothless grin forming as she reached out for Juniper.

"Can I hold her?" She asked hopefully, glancing up at her aunt and uncle.

Naomi smiles warmly. "Of course you can, Juju. Let's take her to the living room, though. We have a lot to catch up on." She walked over to pick up her baby girl carefully, making sure she's snug and warm in her blanket.

Juniper follows her eagerly, and the four of them settle down on the couches. Alina rests in her lap, her little eyes fixed on Juniper. Juniper coos at her, smiling fondly. "You're gonna have to get used to this face, kiddo. We're gonna be besties." Alina babbled softly, reaching up with her hand to try and grab at Juniper's necklace.

"Ooo, looks like someone likes that pretty necklace," Naomi comments, a fond and curious expression on her face. "Where'd you get it, Juju?"

"Henry gave it to me for my birthday." She replied, her smile softening as she glanced down at the delicate lavender pendant.

"Henry? As in, the boy you've been crushing on?" Naomi teased earning a playful eye roll from Juniper.

"Pft, no," Juniper scoffs, her cheeks warming. "That's totally not why I wear it all the time. He's my best friend, you guys know this." She carefully made sure Alina still wasn't holding onto the necklace so she doesn't accidentally pull on it, smiling as the baby held her finger in a gentle grip. "I just...Like the necklace. It's special, that's all."

Naomi raises an eyebrow but smiled knowingly, clearly amused by her niece's flustered response. "Mhm, sure, Juju. Whatever you say." She teased lightly.

Juniper playfully stuck her tongue out at her, turning her attention back to her little cousin. Alina was watching her intently, her eyes wide with curiosity. She was fascinated by Juniper's necklace, her tiny fingers reaching for it whenever she had the chance. "Can I hold her now?" Juniper asked, looking up at her aunt.

"Of course, honey," Naomi replies, smiling softly. "Just be careful with her head. Support it while holding her." She instructed, helping her position the baby properly in her arms. She helped the sixteen year old make sure the little girl was secure, then sat back and watched the pair with a fond expression. Alina gazed up at her, a smile forming as she cooed happily. Juniper carefully cradled her cousin, her heart melting as the baby looked up at her with innocent eyes. She adjusted her hold, supporting Alina's tiny head with one hand, feeling a gentle warmth spread through her chest.

"You're so little, but so perfect." Juniper whispered, rocking gently back and forth.

Naomi, watching from the couch, couldn't help but smile at the sight. "You look like a natural with her."

Juniper glances up, her face soft with affection. "I can't wait to spend more time with her. I already feel like we're going to be best friends."

"I have no doubt," Naomi said, her voice full of pride. "She's lucky to have you as her big cousin."

Juniper smiles at the compliment, her attention returning to Alina. "Hey, little one, I'm going to spoil you so much, just wait." She chuckled softly, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and responsibility for the tiny person in her arms.

As they sat in the cozy living room, catching up on everything from old memories to current life updates, Juniper felt an undeniable sense of belonging. The familiar comfort of her aunt and uncle, mixed with the joy of meeting Alina, filled her heart in a way that was both calming and exhilarating. This trip to New York was already shaping up to be unforgettable. She glanced back down at Alina, who was now gently tugging at Juniper's finger, a tiny giggle escaping her as her eyes sparkled with curiosity. She had already charmed her cousin, and Juniper couldn't wait to make more memories with her over the next few days. 

A/N a-lee-na is how you pronounce alina's name! wanted to do a chapter of juniper with her family since i havent really done that yet so then this helped you guys know more about her family!

[nate-the-bee]

Home's Honey Bee Bakery Menu!

A list of confections, sweets, and baked treats you can buy at the Honey Bee Bakery! Prices vary from blown kisses, warm hugs, and kind compliments!

Cakes (heart-shaped cakes in a variety of flavours like chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, red velvet, marshmallow, rose, and milk-and-honey) Price: 3 kisses, 1 extra-long hug, or 4 compliments.

Petit fours (small, heart-shaped cakes of various flavours and icings, usually pink, red, white, and chocolate brown) Price each: 1 kiss, 1 short hug, or 1 sweet word.

Smackarons (delicate macarons shaped like hearts and honeycombs): 1 kiss or 1 warm hug

Snickerdoodles (heart-shaped, sugar-cinnamon cookies that make you smile and giggle) Price: 1 funny story or 1 compliment

Jollypops (heart-shaped lollipops that come in a variety of flavours like strawberry, cherry, raspberry, rosehip, and honey) Price: 1 funny joke or 2 kisses

Ginger-bread (heart-shaped pastries that make you feel more lively and happy) Price: 2 compliments or 1 funny story

Honeybuns (swirly bakery buns with a pink honey icing) Price: 3 hugs or 2 compliments

Royal Jelly (rose and strawberry panna cotta drizzled in chocolate sauce) Price: 2 kisses or 1 hug

Pink Honey (rose-and-strawberry flavoured honey in a pink jar. Home made!) Price: 1 long, warm hug, or 1 kiss

Juju Bees (pink, red, white, and brown gumdrops in strawberry, cherry, vanilla, and chocolate flavours) Price: 3 compliments or 2 kisses

Pretzels (heart-shaped soft pretzels that can come covered in various kinds of chocolate or pink yogurt) Price: 1 tongue twister

Cotton Candy (pink and white sugar spun until it's as fluffy as a cloud in the sky! It comes in strawberry and vanilla flavours) Price: a cute story/a spun yarn

Laughy Taffy (hand-pulled taffy guaranteed to make you giggle. Comes in strawberry, cherry, raspberry, and vanilla) Price: a cute joke or riddle

Nice Cream (ice cream with compliments on the wrapper; it's as sweet as can bee!) Price: 2 compliments

Chocolates (a variety of assorted chocolates that come ribbon-wrapped in a heart-shaped box) Price: 3 kisses

Beignets (puffy donuts filled with chocolate, hazelnut cream, strawberry jam, or rose jelly. Topped with powdered sugar and a drizzle of pink honey) Price each: 1 long, warm hug

Crêpes (thin pancakes rolled up around sweet cream and fruit) Price: 3 hugs

Éclairs (long, round pastries iced with chocolate and filled with cream) Price each: 2 kisses, 1 hug, or 2 compliments

Palmiers (bee-shaped, buttery, flakey cookies) Price each: 1 kind word

Angel wings (thin, twisty ribbons of fried dough, powdered sugar, and cinnamon) Price each: 1 compliment, 1 kiss

Bumble Gum (balls of sugary gum in a candy pink colour that make heart-shaped bubbles) Price each: 1 peck on the cheek

[yoma198]

7️⃣x🍞

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Ghost Brother Au resurrecting just like our best boy Danny

Le Phantome

My Brain: Okay, so the exact timeline is-- Me: Shut up about the timeline, shut up about the timeline!!

Danny was a member of the Casper High French class when he was in Amity Park. he wasn’t good at it, but it got him by. unfortunately for Danny, he forgot about the Annual Senior Year Trip to Paris.

Danny is working with his parents when Valerie of all people walks into the bakery.

Que spiderman meme

Marinette watches them interact; this is the first person from Danny’s past to ever find him and she’s curious. Is she a friend? An ex-girlfriend? She’s nosy.

They’re thrilled to see each other again, even though Danny is hiding that they know each other from the Dupain-Chengs. Valerie spent the last three years thinking Danny was dead He says that he ran bc he was hiding from the ghost that killed his family, which is true from a certain point of view. They exchange numbers.

Valerie gives his number to Vlad.

Valerie has basically become a full-blown employee of Vlad at this point, still not knowing he’s a half-ghost. Ghosts are still in Amity Park, just not as much in number, probably left over juju from the Fenton portal. Obviously she’s going to report that the boy he’s been looking for for years is in Paris.

Vlad, still a fruitloop and having next to no idea on what actually happened during Ultimate Enemies, is determined to get his soon-to-be son.

What happened from Vlad’s PoV: Danny got caught cheating and the entire family, friends, and teacher met at the Nasty Burger. A ghost--identity unknown--attacks and Danny fights him, but the nasty burger blows up in the process. Everyone dies (and for a while, Vlad thinks Danny died too) and the mysterious ghost is in the wind.

he knows a vague description of the mystery ghost/dan. White flaming hair, black and white suit with a cape, green skin and pointed ears. whoever vlad interrogated didn’t see the phantom symbol on Dan’s chest though

Vlad, instead of being happy that Danny’s been found, is furious. Instead of coming to him after his family died, Danny ran away across the ocean, and even allowed some random people to adopt him!? Even though Vlad’s been trying to find him, even though Vlad was there the entire time!?

He wants his son. Now.

Vlad calls Danny, scaring him, threatening his family. Danny is horrified and furious, but manages to negotiate a meeting, telling Vlad that he’d explain everything. Vlad has reservations at Le Grand Paris at lunch. Danny agrees to go.

Danny tells his parents that he can’t work around noon, he’s eating lunch with someone. Alya is there (sleepover?) and tries to interrogate him about where he’s going and who he’s going with, but Danny shuts it down.

Marinette thinks that he’s going to eat out with Valerie from the other day. Danny’s never dated before (to her knowledge) or even had a crush (again to her knowledge), so Alya convinces her to follow Danny.

Danny dresses himself to the nines, due to the location of their meeting, but takes the time to slip on one of the first bracelets Marinette made for him when he moved it. It’s made of yarn and clay beads, but he loves it. It’s from his new life.

Danny arrives at the restaurant at Le Grand Paris, though he’s there early and takes a seat inside. Alya and Marinette can’t get in at first, but because her mom’s the chef, they get a table nearby.

they’re wearing comically bad disguises, but Danny’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice them.

Chloe spots them and tries to throw a fit, but they fill her in on the deets---aka, Danny’s on a date and they’re spying. I’ve decided that Chloe has a crush on both Danny and Kaitou LeBlanc (non-reciprocated of course), so she’s immediately down to clown with the other girls.

Imagine their confusion when some middle-aged man sits down at the table.

Danny fully intended to tell Vlad what happened. It’s been years, he’s had therapy, but when he tries to tell Vlad... he chokes.

It doesn’t help that Vlad is being a total a-hole about this. Insulting the hotel, the city, Danny’s grasp on the French language (which has improved dramatically, he’s proud to report). Vlad doesn’t particularly care about answers, he wants the son he was promised.

Vlad gives an ultimatum; Danny comes with him willingly and Vlad won’t destroy his family. He’s a powerful man; he can shut down one little bakery, get one girl expelled from school, get two parents arrested for kidnapping. Vlad can ruin them.

It should be noted that Vlad didn’t know about the current situation in Paris. The Mayor had been keeping it quiet. If he’d known, he would have arranged for their conversation to occur outside the boards of the city.

Neither man nor teen notice the butterfly landing on his bracelet.

“Le Phantome, I am Hawkmoth. I will grant you the power to retaliate against the man threatening your family. In return, all I ask is for Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous.”

Danny knew he should say no. He should fight. But two words slipped out instead. “Yes, Hawkmoth.”

A black, bubbling ooze overtook Danny. In his place was a man with green skin and pointed ears, flaming white hair, and a black and white supersuit with a cape. Almost exactly like Dan.

Taglist: @bee-a-garbage-shipper @cell113 @burningprincesssuit @tgfangirl4eva @winter-rose-wolf @princertain @bean2342 @obnoxious-avian-personal @nillajinx @imspectralboiii @readlikereblogrepeat @iglowinggemma28 @letterlust @lysslovsanime @pinkcc1 @darkthunder1589 @jdc1717 @henloamkitty @theauthorandtheartist @spinatelle @murlinmouse @arken-99 @mango-mush

[seakicker]

M-maybe pierro with fertility goddess...? Pls hear me out! Since he's from khaen'riah he propably didn't believe in gods too, but after the cataclysm that left his country a ruin and killed his people, pierro found himself to be completely alone for centuries with no one to turn to

He was already old and he felt that the weariness of endless travel was getting the best of him, he wasn't the young warrior anymore that could endure everything that was thrown at him, he knew that if he continued on like this he'd die an honorless death by the hands of cold, some beast or even a bandit

And so he continued onwards until finally strength left him and he collapsed under a strangely green tree, almost heavy with its fruit but he was too weak already to even reach out to it before finally accepting his embarrassing fate

Except that when he woke up there wasn't the endless darkness he expected, there wasn't cries and flames of the abyss, no, there he was laying on something soft and warm, somethijg that was caressing his beard and sickly pale face as he groggily took everything in; he saw a bountiful lush green garden, filled with exotic greenery and animals, the soft glow of multiple candles and floating orbs of light giving the place an eternal glow in the starry night, and pierro finally looked up to see you, the most beautiful girl he ever saw and he quickly realised that the warm soft thing he was laying in was your fluffy warm lap and you were caressing his face with a soft smile on your full lips

Pierro swore that he died and this is afterlife he most certainly didn't deserve but your lovely voice assured him that no, he didn't die but when you found him under one of your shrines, the tree, he was close to it so you, as the goddess of fertility and life took the dying man in and nursed him back to health

I'm sorry for this monster but just the thought of a most revered and loved fertility goddess reader taking in cold, stoic old man pierro and saving him from death and the jester himself warming up to you and your kindness and eventually deciding that if he really was to spend eternity as an immortal there was no better place than with you, the most beautiful softest being, and even he couldn't help but desire you, eventually desperately wanting to father your babies and be the best husband/protector of his new family💕💔

I’M HEARING YOU LOUD AND CLEAR I ADOREEEE THIS OMFG don't apologize for the length of ur asks, i loooove long asks i analyze them like a school textbook fr. oh this is so good...

fem reader, reader is described as busty, curvy, and chubby, breeding, pregnancy, and lactation below! let me know if i missed a warning.

word count: 2.2K

i like to imagine fertility archon as the spitting image of so many things— aside from the obvious, of course. i feel like she just has this certain air about her that encourages comfort and absolves you of all your worries and anxieties, y'know? being around her is like sitting in front of a fireplace or wrapping a blanket around yourself; it's instant comfort and safety and it just feels like... home. you all know the phrase "they feel like home"— that's the kind of vibe i want for fertility archon reader. she just feels like home.

nobody can attest to that fact more than a man who has, quite literally, lost his home— sure, you could make the claim that a man who has no home would consider just about anything a suitable replacement, but it's not like that. it's not about clinging to a semblance of safety and security after wandering aimlessly for so long, it's not about the ol' "taking what you can get" nor is it about beggars not being able to be choosers, and it's not about desperation. amidst all his exhaustion, dehydration, starvation, and delirium, there's one thought that stands out clear as day in pierro's mind— that you're home.

that's what he felt the moment he first looked up at you from your lap, and it's what he's felt ever since. to be met with the sight of a sweet, almost... angelic (which is very high praise coming from someone from khaenri'ah, mind you) being looking down at him rather than the sight of destruction, ruin, and war came as a great relief for pierro. better yet, it's like all the pain he previously felt in his weary body has completely vanished... his joints were no longer stiff, his back no longer aching, and his head no longer pounding upon waking up again after passing out. fascinating... did you perhaps administer some first aid while he was out?

no, that doesn't seem right— there'd certainly be a bitter, medicinal taste in his mouth if that were the case, and not just from dehydration following his aimless travels and days spent with very little water available to quench his thirst. nor does he feel the stiffness of any splints supporting his weary joints— it's like he suddenly magically recovered despite being so miserable before.

well. this certainly beats being killed and looted by some common treasure hoarder taking advantage of his weary, sickly state.

most soothing and reassuring of all, however, is not the feeling of a body freed from injury and sickness, it's the hand gently caressing his face paired with the gentle humming filling his ears. a sweet lullaby, he'd imagine— though it's not one he's ever heard before, the sudden sleepiness it stirs in him (yes, despite the fact that he just woke up again) inclines him to believe it's meant to calm racing thoughts and soothe weary bodies.

"it's okay," a voice gently interrupts that humming from before. "get some more rest; i'll still be here when you wake up."

without so much as a "who are you?" mumbled from pierro, he falls asleep once more, your soft, thick thighs serving as his pillow while your deft fingers gently untangle the knots in his long, gray hair and brush softly against his cheeks. he almost seemed to be running a fever when you first found him collapsed under a tree... heatstroke, perhaps? infection? all it took was a gentle wave of your hand to free him from any and all potential diseases— such an act is child's play for the archon of fertility, prosperity, and new life. you took it upon yourself to carefully, carefully slip sips of water past his dry lips as he looked up at you deliriously, clearly on the verge of passing right out... it's a good thing your lap was there to serve as a pillow and your body as a support, otherwise he would have fallen backwards into the trunk of the tree behind him.

his broad, strong build made you hesitant to pity him as one would pity a wounded animal—clearly this man was a seasoned warrior and a veteran fighter, he doesn't need your pity even if he has seem to fallen on hard times— but even then... you couldn't stop your heart from twisting at the way he immediately melted into your lap and surrendered himself to your care. how horrible... how long has he been alone, you wondered? how long without anyone to provide him with care and love? you're thankful you found him before it proved to be too late for this mysterious man.

when pierro comes to (again), he feels even better than the first time he had awoken on your lap. as promised, you didn't move an inch, waiting for him to wake up while you continued to hum to him in his sleep and gently caress his face.

"good morning," you whisper sweetly, giggling slightly. "how do you feel?"

speech comes surprisingly easy— he would have thought that his throat would be too hoarse to speak properly, but he has no issues. "i feel well," pierro replies, glancing up at his mysterious... protector? doctor? caretaker? "and you are...?"

when you tell him your name, he's instantly reminded of all the tales he's heard of teyvat's many archons— and what a relief it would be to anyone to get discovered by the archon of fertility and not any of the rest of them... the majority of them aren't exactly known for being kind, graceful people, but you? the stories putting you as the protagonist depict you as nothing but generous, loving, and doting, providing bountiful harvests for your people, ensuring the health of families and their newborns, and staving off plague and famine with your own divine protection.

hm. it seems khaenri'ah was wrong about gods... or maybe you're the exception that proves the rule; the reason your kindness stands out so fiercely is simply because the rest of the archons just aren't kind themselves.

"—and i'll take care of you until i feel confident that you've recovered fully," you finish your introduction, smiling at him and offering him a piece of fruit from the tree above— the very same fruit he was too weak to reach up and grab at when he first stumbled upon the tree. it was so delicious and rich that it nearly caught him off guard... is this the power of the fertility archon?

days became weeks and weeks became months. sure, you believed he was well enough to venture out on his own again ages ago, but he didn't seem too concerned with leaving— where would he even go? look at where wandering around aimlessly for years on end got him last time... he would have died were it not for you, and now he's in your debt. helping out around the fields and keeping you company was the least he could do... and, if he's being honest with himself (a rarity indeed), he's come to enjoy your company. you tell fascinating stories and sing beautiful tunes he's never heard before, you prepare the most delicious food anyone alive has ever laid a lip to, and you've done so much for him out of the goodness of your heart... what a welcome change from the centuries of isolation and pain.

one thing you've noticed about pierro is that he doesn't seem to be much of a talker. you're not the type to pry into one's past or private life to begin with, but when he stiffens and presses his lips into a thin line whenever you try to ask about how he found himself collapsed and nearly on the verge of death beneath one of your trees, you drop the conversation there. it's better to mind your own business than attempt to tear up the floorboards hiding someone else's pain. all that matters is that he's safe now... and he won't have to experience that overwhelming loneliness again.

however, it seems he's stumbled upon a new conflict. no, this isn't necessarily related to the aforementioned loneliness, but perhaps that's just the point— this new conflict comes as damage control to ensure that he'll never experience that again. somewhere along the line, pierro began to view you a little less as a savior and a little more as... a woman. he knows you're an archon, truly, but to finally be in the company of someone else after so long, and someone as loving and kind as you... well. no man alive would be able to resist developing feelings. the way you sing to yourself as you stir a pot of soup cooking over a fire, the way you bring him a bowl while smiling and encouraging him to enjoy as much as he'd like, the way your hips swish so invitingly as you walk, and the memory of the way you helped him wash up when you first rescued him, too worried about his safety to leave him alone by a body of water... it's no wonder he began to desire you.

how fitting is it, then, that he first makes a move on you one day while you two are taking a walk by the very tree you first found him by? that was decades ago now; time passes so quickly for immortals... what feels like a single year the immortal is surely a century in mortal's time. the intensity of his gaze nearly made you shrink back into yourself, something no other partner you were with prior to pierro has been able to achieve. wordlessly, pierro cornered you back against the tree with a serious, sincere expression on his face— making an archon his lover? how ambitious. well, it's not like he'd be willing to let anyone else have you; in a world as vile and cruel as this one— and he's witnesses his fair share of evil and cruelty— anyone else may just take your kindness for granted. what if you saved a wandering bandit instead and he attempted to hurt you? sure, he wouldn't actually stand a chance against a literal archon, but it's about the principle of someone failing to appreciate your kindness.

and who better to appreciate it than a man who you gave everything to when he had nothing?

you instantly melt against pierro when he steals your lips in a searing kiss, gently-but-firmly pinning your wrists above your head with one of his large hands. your voice sounds just as sweet as a breathless moan of his name than it does while you're singing to him or humming a little tune to yourself— you pant and moan against his lips so invitingly it makes him wish he took you for himself sooner so he could have been hearing those sounds all this time. when he moves to lick hot lines down your neck, you gasp and press yourself harder against him— it's been a long, long time since you've had a lover; you haven't been with anyone since meeting pierro... maybe it's because you found it hard to find the time for external relationships between all the time you spent with pierro, showing him how to tend to the fields and how to prepare food, maybe it's because you didn't need anyone else, maybe it's because you knew deep down he was the perfect lover all along.

who's to say?

his hand loses its grip on your wrists as his mouth continues to travel southwards, his fingers instead finding a use by tugging the front of your dress down to expose your soft, full tits— ripe and luscious like the very fruit hanging just overhead, they fill his palms and then some just perfectly as he nips along your collarbone. even your skin tastes sweet like fresh fruit...

speaking of taste, absolutely nothing could have prepared pierro for the taste that filled his mouth once he closed his lips around one of your nipples. milk, it's milk— and it's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. he would never say this out of concern of upsetting you, but your milk is even tastier than your cooking... which is absolutely saying a lot. you whimper and moan as he continues to drink and drink and drink from your ample breasts, periodically switching between the two to show both nipples equal amount of attention. he's not even sure why he's so surprised that you lactate— you're the archon of fertility, isn't such a thing to be expected?

the only thing that would further your image as the most beautiful and perfect depiction of fertility in all of teyvat would be the sight of you pregnant, belly round and swollen with a child while your ample, milky breasts rest on your tummy like a shelf. luckily for him, that's exactly what pierro's new plan is... to put his baby in you and finally, finally have a family of his own again. you already gave him a home, so the next logical step is to provide him a few children to help fill up the spare bedrooms, right?

you've already taken such good care of him. allow him to return the favor by taking care of you and the family you two created together.

[promptseverlark]

The Photograph - 10th Letter

A letter from Finnick. Some bromance from the person who always has Peeta's back.

AO3  FFN

.....

1 June

  Dear Peeta,

What's up, brother? I haven't heard from you in ages. How's the small town in South Dakota treating you? You're not turning into a cattle nurse, are you? I heard there is more livestock in your small district there than people. It might be interesting to move there for a while because we're getting slammed here in town. There are so many clumsy and crazy tourists flocking the district for the summer, and we get all sorts of cases. You name it, we got it! From sprained ankles to leeches on the ear, to weird insect bites, to broken pinkies, and to many car-related accidents. Drunk drivers need to be jailed longer, I tell you. Seriously, they should monitor the highways better this time because collisions have been happening left and right -- it's like the roads are cursed. We need a more experienced staff of your caliber now than ever. The research department had to slow down its studies because we have too many patients daily.

But hey, don't worry, Peet. I won't ask you to come back to the hospital. I know you're much better there staying away from here.

Annie is a whole different story, though. She's asking for you, brother. You know her due date is in the next two weeks. She wants you here, Peet. I kind of agree with her too. As much as I don't want to admit it, you have that calming juju about you that relaxes my Annie. You two understand each other on another level. So file that leave for three weeks, and help me out with my very pregnant wife and future son. I need a babysitter, an alternate, and my best friend -- basically my brother. You know I only have you, Peet. Shit, this has turned to me asking for you because of Annie to me asking for you too! So, you got to do this for me, brother. My first baby is giving me all the wiggles.

Can I count on you, Peeta? I know you love me, man. Come on, don’t make me beg.

  xoxo,

Finnick

  P.S. Bring some of those honey salt walnut brownies that Annie loves when you come here, okay? She's been craving it like crazy and bugging the local bakery to make them. She's turning into a grinch -- she is adorably scary! This is my Annie right here. She needs her fix of deliciousness STAT!

P.P.S. Did you see the cover of Capitol Magazine last month? Katniss did it! She photographed that Amur snow leopard hybrid. The small column about her at the end of the article said that she's out to get the next elusive animal in the wild. A jabberjay and a mockingbird hybrid or something. Mockingjay, I think, is what she called it. I guess your girl's moving on with her life. That's good, right? So stop downing yourself about her. You've done your time, Peet. There's no point in shaming yourself with the mistakes of your past forever. You have changed so much from that bitter, angry, and lonely young man. That's no longer you. You worked hard to better yourself all these years. Don't throw it all away or downplay all your efforts. Allow yourself to heal. You did your time and paid your dues if you want to look at it that way. 

Time to move on and find your piece of happiness in the world, brother. I know you will never find another girl like Katniss. She really meant so much to you. You truly did love her, I know you did. You shouldn’t be mad at yourself for finding her love. Don't let this guilt consume you. All you wanted was to make her happy.

Peeta, you do deserve love in your life again. Think about it, okay? See you soon, my brother.

.....

[bangtansmauyeondan]

MOONSTRUCK | Part 7 - Unwanted (Text in between images.)

Pairing: Seokjin x Fem Reader | Namjoon x Fem Reader

Genre: F2L, social media au, soulmates au, office au, slow burn, fluff, implied smut, angst, slight crack, and drama. (Inspired by BTS - Moon)

Summary: You don’t know what the world looks like without Seokjin. Growing up in the same neighborhood, a low iron fence separating your family home and his, your lives have always been tangled up with each other. So much so, that after graduating college and securing your respective jobs, you decided to pack everything up and move to the same apartment building in the city— him, sharing a unit with his younger brother and his college bestfriend; you, sharing a unit with your younger brother and his equally chaotic bestfriend. Eternal neighbors thing, right? Or is that all there is to it?

A/N : Things will feel a bit… different. Taglist is open! Let me know if you want to be added! 🌙

PS - 24/7 Heaven Bakery is a nod to @bts-reveries The Most Beautiful Moment in Life series which I love so much. 💜

Taglist: @bts-reveries @tan-dulset @persphonesorchid @joonjoonsmiles @jayhope88 @thatbangtanjagiya @anaceciliaxr @justinetingball @halesandy @yoongleskitten @onemanbandarmi @juju-227592 @ephyra1230 @somelazysundays

••••••••••••

A stark contrast from the sound your every step made on the marble floor outside of your boyfriend’s office, no clacking of heels could be heard as you walked the carpeted floor towards Namjoon’s desk.

“… but the site in Itaewon is already 1200 people stronger than the previous month. They had a solid hiring plan in place at the beginning of December and so far, they’re ranking higher than most of our existing sites.” He’s on a video conference with one of the executives and despite the positive news he just stated, you could nitpick the frustrated lilt to his voice. He lifted a forefinger signaling you to wait without even glancing your way. The person on the other end of the video call said something inaudible to you, considering your distance from Namjoon. “Alright, James. I’m gonna have to review this again, and I’ll get back to you with the conclusion. Give me until tomorrow morning, yeah? I have to jump on another meeting in 15 minutes.” He ended the call before heaving a heavy sigh.

“Everything alright?” you asked as you approached him. Seeing the way he closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose, you couldn’t help but reach out and give his shoulders a light massage.

“These morons don’t know how to read numbers,” he answered curtly, shrugging your hands off in the process. “What are you doing here?”

You were taken aback by how harsh his words were, but considering he’s stressed from work, you let it slide. “I wanted to have lunch with you. You missed our coffee date this morning. Are you not happy to see me?” you pouted playfully before landing a small peck on his lips.

“If you’re hungry, I don’t know, ask Yejin to have lunch with you. Or Hoseok. I have another meeting in about ten minutes and trust me, lunch is the last thing on my mind right now,” he straightened up on his chair and went back to his computer, as if you’re not standing dumbfounded right behind him.

“Well…” unconsciously, you fiddled with the pendant of your necklace, “I can stay and make you tea or coffee if you’re not hungry. I can—“

“Babe… please. I’m quite busy,” he clicked his tongue, obviously displeased.

You’re starting to get irritated and insecure as well, but you tried to ignore it. “You need something to nibble on, babe. The meeting—“

“Yn, what part of ‘I’m busy’ do you not understand?” he tilt his head to the direction of the door and that’s when you lost it.

“Wow. Thank you, Namjoon. I just wanted to see you and have lunch with you, but you’re busy. I understand that. That’s why I wanted to make you something if you’re gonna miss lunch, you know, to keep you focused and alert during your meetings, but yes, you know what? Forget it.”

Namjoon did not have to answer. The way he buried his face in his two hands in frustration told you everything you needed to know— you’re not wanted. Again. A frequent occurrence ever since he got the promotion for the senior manager post and basically had to run a much bigger circus than you do.

If he even took one glance at you when you left and slammed the door right behind you, you have no idea.

“Jin?” you whispered as you crouched down beside his bed, trying to peer into his face that’s partially covered by the alpaca pillow you gave him for his birthday. “Seokjinnie…” you gently brushed his hair back with your fingers, revealing his forehead, and tried to feel his temperature with the back of your hand. Warm to the touch, but not burning. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell…” he whined, but kept his eyes shut.

“Have you taken your meds? You need to eat something before you could take your meds, Jin,” you continued brushing his hair back to soothe him.

He reached out for your hand on his head and snuggled his cheek against it, not letting go, before he ratted his younger brother out, “Taehyungie fed me cup ramyeon when I asked for lobster chowder. That kid. How dare he trick his older brother like that? I was the one who helped mom change his diapers— I was only 3 back then!” he pouted. “Then he made me take two tablets and said ‘hyung it will help with your fever,’ but I know I don’t have fever. I know it, it’s my body. Scold him for me, Yn.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your mouth hearing Jin complain about Taehyung— whiny, pouty, sneezy, and maybe the rest of Snow White’s seven dwarfs. “Aww, don’t worry, I’m gonna whack his little bum bum later.”

“Thank you,” how he managed to give you his killer wink despite being woozy, you’ll never know.

“So you’re not sick?”

“Nope,” he replied with a pop on the ‘p.’

“Well then scoot over and give me some room. I want to lie down.” The panic that flashed on Jin’s face and the way his eyes widen told you he knew how much shit he’s talking about. He’s always been in denial whenever he gets ill, simply because he didn’t want to burden anybody.

“No, the bed is too small… and you… uh, you might, um… you might get sick.”

“But you’re not sick, right? COME ON. Scoot over,” you climbed on the bed and wiggled your way beside him. Jin was quick to shove the pillow between the two of you and partially cover his face again.

“Go away, Yn. Why are you even here?” as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to kick himself, because not only did he see how your expression changed, but it also couldn’t be further from the truth. He wanted you close, in more ways than you could ever imagine.

“I see I’m not wanted here either…” you began to move, but before you knew it, Jin was already encircling his arms around your waist and pulling you close. So close that your back ended up flushed against his chest and you could feel his hot breath at the back of your neck.

“Stay, I’m sorry, I was just messing with you,” he whispered before burying his face in your hair and taking a deep breath.

And for some reason you couldn’t explain, you felt your heart flutter.

[keylimeimagines]

Hi !Can i have a male match up for genshin or persona (one you prefer,both,none you choose ! X) ) please ? Physically:

I’m a 5.2 chubby french girl  with long light copper wavy hair I have  brown eyes loke chocolate and glasses,really pale skin with freckles(my pp is me)

Personnality:

I am an INFJ,libra,ravenclaw and I have cat and mom energy if we listen to my 3 older brothers,nephews.I am affectionate,quiet,clumsy.With my loved one I love teasing and cracks jokes but I am also quite  sarcastic,blunt if needed.

Hobby:

I like listening to music,reading,singing,baking,cooking.I am also a smoker.I play a lot of video games and watch anime. I am an INFJ,libra,ravenclaw and I have cat and mom energy if we listen to my 3 older olders brothers and nephew.

Fun fact:

I’m doing an degree in Science education and work as a student job at a bakery.

I am also very spirituaI

I love wearing many jewelry (rings almost at all finger,double necklace)

I never wear my glasses

I live on coffee,tea and energy drink (It's okay for me but not for you take care of yourself ahah)

My signature smell is a mix between coton candy and Black currant

I have many nicknames and it can be confusing for people(Ju,Juju,mum,Rose)

I hope that you’re okay !

CELESIA HAS SPOKEN, AND THE ONE CHOSEN FOR YOU IS....

ARATAKI ITTO [ESFP]!!

chose him bc ESFP x _NFJ supremacy <33

ANYWHO, i feel like Itto would LOVE freckles!! he thinks they look so cool!!

this man is the most Gryffindor you'll ever meet!! and he's PROUD

itto is also very affectionate!! and too confident at times if im honest, but it's okay we love him <3

this man is LOUD and VERY dumb, but it's fine because it perfectly contrasts your quietness

he loves to lightly tease his friends and especially his loved ones, but he'll never take it too far!!

he can't cook for shit, but he loves literally everything you cook or bake (unless it has beans in it obviously)

i can't exactly pinpoint what Itto's smell would be like, but i imagine it to be like mahogany or some type of "wood" smell for some reason

he already gives many nicknames to many things (including but not limited to his onikabuto, the traveler, kujou sara, and many more), so he would NOT hesitate to give you even MORE nicknames that may or may not make any sense whatsoever <33

big dumb oni himbo <33 i lovm him sm!!!!

[serede986]

Hi! Absolutely loved your Juju and ties post! Can you write Jumin x MC where she works for him and she finds him "lost in the wild" (commoner's neighborhood, I don't know why he can't just call Driver Kim) and she feels in the obligation of looking out for him because he is so clueless and easy to trick? (and she reluctantly falls in love because he is so adorable?) Thanks!

Lost and Confused (Jumin)

Hi nonny san! So glad you liked the HC 🥰This honestly is a very cute request cause clueless and confused Jumin is the cutest thing in the world fjfjjdsofks I mean imagine him being just a little nervous and looking around and playing with the cufflinks and hhhhhhhhhh

Okay enough fangirling fjfdkanfn. Hope you enjoy. Please feel free to ask for a rewrite.

~

Closing the door behind you, you walked down the street towards the bakery with the intention of buying some macarons to treat yourself for the week. While on the way, you spot a very familiar man, eyeing the area with much suspicion in his eyes.

His fingers fidgeted with his sleeves, feet tapping the ground in a pattern of impatience. Is he lost?

"Greetings Mr. Han, never thought I'd see you here.."

"Ahh Ms. MC, glad to see you," his eyes appeared brighter, a subtle frown replaced with small red on his cheeks, a smile that could ever be ignored. The red on his cheeks instantly mirrored on yours, you instantly diverged your vision at anything but his eyes.

"Do you need some assistance, Mr. Han?"

"Oh! Yes, actually I'm searching for the meow cafe, I heard it's quite a famous cafe in the town, although I couldn't locate it's whereabouts anywhere in the area.." looking around he couldn't spot anything else other than apartment complexes and houses.

Oh this poor soul.

The confused innocence reflects beautifully on his face, daylight shimmering through the trees, dancing as the breeze goes by.

There had been a few instances where he had called you into a meeting even when you didn't have any work related to the meeting. You tried not to think much of it, considering it was just a part of your training but, now that I think of it...

"I want you to be beside me.."

"Huh?!" That almost scared you, embarrassed to zone out on him.

He raised his eyebrows before speaking "Aren't you leading the way?"

"S-sure am Mr. Han.." you nodded, smiling sheepishly.

You walked with him to a small cat cafe, tucked behind the plants, beside an alleyway, currently being resided by a black cat, staring at both of you while you entered the cafe. A small 'ding' echoed, signalling your presence. Small meows and chatter surrounded the room.

A ginger cat walked towards the both of you, rubbing herself through your legs.

Jumin proceeded to pick her up, rubbing her head slowly, making her purr almost instantly.

This.. somehow feels like something out of your imagination, something you never imagined him to look like. So soft, and so utterly precious. Something you could never imagine while working together with him. Something you'd be running your mind for, wishing to see that precious every day.

After playing with the cats for a while, you both took a table, tucked in the corner, ordering your beverages on the way.

"There's another cat cafe that I'd like to visit in some other area, would you be interested in visiting it with me, MC?" He looked into your eyes, his demeanor even more confident than before, but somehow holding a soft smile.

You gasped lowly, looking away as your cheeks heated up. There was a certain excitement in your chest, jumping to get out.

"Yes" you muttered low, your fingers fidgeting under the table.

"I hope Saturday afternoon doesn't interfere with your schedule," he said, quickly making your blush return to your cheeks.

Goddamit Jumin, what's with that fucking smile?!

"Ahh ugh! N-no, no it does not. Or rather, I'd be glad to!"

His eyes widened, before settling back into a smile.

Do.. you think of me just as often as I think about you, Mr. Han?

~

(^._.^)ﾉ

I really hope you enjoyed, have a good day!

[imaginethreehouses]

Hi !Can i have a male match up please ? Physically: I’m a 5.2 chubby french girl  with long light copper wavy hair mostly tied up in a bun.I have really dark brown eyes and glasses,really pale skin with freckles(my pfp is me) Personnality: I am an ISFJ,libra and I have a mom energy if we listen to my 3 older brothers,nephews. With my loved one I am affectionate,clumsy and I love teasing and cracks jokes but I am also quite sarcastic,blunt if needed.In public I will be calm and a little less expressive but towards my loved ones my behavior remains the same Besides, I get angry pretty quickly when I'm faced with disrespect or injustice. Nevertheless, I'm always careful not to raise my voice. Hobby: I like listening to music,reading,singing,baking,cooking.I am also a smoker.I play a lot of video games and watch anime. Fun fact: I am very spirituaI. I love wearing many jewelry (rings almost at all finger,double necklace). I never wear my glasses. I live on coffee,tea and energy drink (It's okay for me but not for you take care of yourself ahah). My signature scent is Rose.I always wear red lipstick and black nailpolish I have many nicknames and it can be confusing for people(Ju,Juju,mum,Rose).And my name is Julie-Rose ! I work on a bakery where I sell Croissant,baguette,pain au chocolat,many others pastries and good things.And I also know the gossip but that’s another thing ahah. I’m 20 btw. I have a dog didi (and she’s the custest and I don’t take criticism). I hope that you’re okay !

Hi!! Thank you for sending in the request 🥰 Sorry it took so long to get to, the heatwave that hit my city turned my brain into a puddle of slime for a couple of weeks LMAO. I hope you like the match!

I match you with... Jeritza! ❤

Sorry, I know I'm taking a bit of a risk here because most people don't like him. But hear me out!

Right off the bat, thematically, well, he has a rose motif and your lipstick/nail polish color match with his own choices of color so well? You just look like you fit together to me 🥰

Also, Jeritza loves sweets, so you working at a bakery and baking as a hobby would make him so happy. He would always be trying everything you bake and be so appreciative of it. He would also love it if you teach him to bake!

Speaking of sweets, when you get to know him, he is so, so sweet. Hopefully with time and some encouragement your dog would warm up to him as well. He loves animals so he will be so happy when it happens!

In the meantime, he would show your love for both you and your dog through letters and gifts. He would also do all your chores for you, if you let him.

He would try to gently encourage you to take better care of yourself, wear your glasses when you need them and be careful not to drink too much coffee and energy drinks... 🤭

After all that happened with his family, he has probably never even thought of having children. But seeing you be cute and happy arounds kids would start putting ideas in his mind.

If things ever came to it (and in the world of fe3h, let's face it, they might), you'd have a personal knight at your beck and call to fight for your ideals, on your behalf.

He's been dealing with a lot so fighting for justice has not really been a thing that's on his mind. But seeing you be passionate about your beliefs would inspire him a lot.

When it comes to getting intimate, Jeritza is incredibly soft and gentle with his caresses and kisses and the like. He's scared that he will hurt you, even if it's been years since he last turned into the death knight.

He may be in a difficult situation but he's actually the sweetest if you give him a chance?? He would worship you and give you the world.

He would suck at video games and likely not get most anime but I promise, he would try 🤣

❤ Other possibilities: Sylvain, Dedue, Hubert.