#put teabag in mug

[redrreign]

really bad start to the day folks

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

The great thing about having an awful memory is that you get along really well with people with Alzheimers. "Grandma kept forgetting your name I'm so sorry about that" I forgot her name in that conversation three times also. It's not a personal slight. "Grandpa keeps thinking he's still working on the farm they sold twenty years ago" yeah he can't remember much and he's extrapolating from older memories and context clues. Like me trying to remember where I know the woman who talked to me for ten minutes in the grocery store from. The last thing he remembers is being a farmer and he's holding a pitchfork in the garden, of course he's going to farm shit. If I can't remember why I came into the kitchen but there's a teabag in one hand and a mug in the other, I draw the obvious conclusion and make a cup of fucking tea. "Auntie May mustn't have long for this world, she keeps forgetting her parents died years ago" bitch I get a sudden burst of serotonin AT LEAST once per week when I'm thinking about my stepfather and suddenly remember that he's been dead for five years. Stop riding these old people so hard. Put anything poisonous somewhere they can't get into it and let them live their fucking lives. AND STOP REMINDING AUNTIE MAY THAT HER PARENTS ARE DEAD AND QUIZZING HER ON IF SHE CAN REMEMBER. SHE WONT "GET BETTER". YOU'RE UPSETTING HER FOR NO FUCKING REASON.

[torncwpid]

Tea is a Love Language (apparently)

Summary: Reader being absolutely oblivious to Ghost's feelings (and Soap facepalming)

Cw: gn!sergeant!reader, just a little drabble that I might expand on someday

Word count: 774

You were a sergeant at TF141, and you were very close with the other soldiers - getting along just fine and always playing around with them.

Except for Ghost.

And that was fine, you told yourself. He was closed off with pretty much everyone, and you were new there anyway. It was only expected. He would come around eventually. It’s not like your situation was hostile, after all. There was mutual respect and a somewhat amenable relationship between you. Just because he wasn’t friendly didn’t mean he hated you.

But oh, you were so very wrong.

There you were, making tea for yourself in the common kitchen while trying to keep up with the conversation Soap and Gaz were having nearby. They were mostly bickering about their football teams, but the conversation was entertaining nonetheless. You saw someone approaching in your peripheral vision, and judging by the silence and size of the figure, you easily knew who it was.

"Lt.”

A nod and a grunt is all you get in response.

“D’you want me to make you tea? I mean, it’s almost 16 already. You usually have an Earl Grey. I can prepare it for you since I’m already here.”

Another grunt that sounds like a “yeah.” Seems like you’re getting somewhere.

Turning around to grab a cup and start boiling the water, you’re met with a knowing, smug look plastered on Soap’s face.

“What?”

“He’s lettin’ ye make his tea now?” The confused look on your face must’ve been evident, because he keeps talking. “Means he trusts you, that — Ghost doesn’t let anyone near his bloody kettle.”

You shrug. “It’s jus’ tea. Maybe he doesn’t let you near it ’cause of your kitchen skills.”

Soap lets out a dramatic gasp, one hand flying to his chest like you’d offended his entire family. “Tha’s rich, comin’ from the one who nearly set toast on fire last week.”

“That toaster’s ancient. If anything, I’m the victim here.” You roll your eyes and go back to prepping the tea, unbothered.

Gaz snorts behind you, and you hear the unmistakable clink of him putting his mug down. “You’ve got no idea, do you?”

You look at him now. “About what?”

Soap looks like he’s just been handed the juiciest bit of gossip and adds, without missing a beat, “About Ghost.” He’s got the mischievous smile of a kid who’s about to tell his parents’ biggest secret.

Your eyes roll before settling back down as you dunk the teabag with the slow precision of someone pointedly ignoring whatever drama is brewing.

“He doesn’t let anyone make his tea,” Gaz chimes in, voice pitched like he’s trying to help, but there’s mischief in his words. “He’s a control freak about it. Swear. Exact temp, steep time, no sugar, splash of milk. The one time I tried? He took the mug, dumped it, and made his own.”

“…Maybe he was jus’ feelin’ extra mean that day,” you say finally, turning back to stir the tea.

Soap groans, full-body, like your denial is physically painful to him. “Christ, ye really don’ see it?”

You shrug and walk off with the cup of Earl Grey in your hands, prepared just the way he likes it, which wasn’t difficult to figure out after months of watching him make it the exact same way every day. Walking into the common area, you spot the lieutenant and shove the mug into his hands with a quiet, “Careful. It’s hot.” And he takes it without a word, fingers brushing yours for the briefest second.

Warm, deliberate.

And still, it flies right over your head.

You linger for a moment. Not enough to be weird, just… long enough to see if he approves of the way you prepared his tea. Taking his low hum, quickly followed by a second sip, as a good enough sign, you head back to the kitchen.

You blink. “See? Nothin’ weird.”

Soap throws his hands up with a groan while Gaz shakes his head.

“Unbelievable.”

[cutiecusp]

Be mine, valentine?

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

tw. established relationship, fluff, Simon not understanding Valentines, a kiss or two.

...................................................................

"Wha' dya mean i have to ask?" Simon asks Gaz blankly. They were picking up dinner for the group when he saw Gaz look at the valentines day stock, a sea of pinks and reds. Soap making his way over to the cards and gift wrap, a smirk on his face.

Gaz laughs, picking up a plushie putting it in the trolley, before making his way through the candles.

"You have to ask her to be your valentine, Ghost. Just because you are together, it doesn't mean-"

"Aye, means anyone could ask her..." Soap returns, card in hand.

"Even me, think she likes candles?" Gaz murmured, a little loudly for Ghost to get the point.

"She's my girlfriend, Gaz, think she would know she's my woman." Ghost grumbles, but starts thinking about your favourite treats, looking over at the stand.

"Why do you have so much stuff? You only have your birdie at home." Ghost eyes Gaz's stash.

"Well there's my wife, my mum, my sisters..." He continues, picking out matching baskets, before raising an eyebrow.

"Wait, you've never done valentines before?"

Ghost shrugs.

"Got her flowers before."

Soap laughs, a booming laugh that startles the other shoppers.

"From the garage, Gaz. The garage."

Gaz joins in on the laughter, before grabbing a basket and thrusting it in Ghosts hands.

"Get her things you know she would like, candles, snacks, chocolates, and for the love of god, WRITE IN THE DAMN CARD." He advises, a smile still on his face.

"Might add another basket to my trolley, show your woman some love." Gaz teases, ignoring the glare from the masked man.

A few days later, Ghost surprises you with a little basket, filled with your favourite treats, a jumper you had been eyeing up, a skeleton plush, and a mug with your favourite teabags inside.

"Will you be my valentine, love?" He asks gruffly, cheeks red under the mask.

You throw your arms around him, peppering his face with kisses before puling down his mask and planting one on his lips.

"Never thought you'd ask!" You laugh, nodding.

Wrapping you up in his arms, he breathes you in, before his gaze flickers to a familiar basket on the dining room table, with a bow to match, and a card placed hapzardly on top.

"Those fuckers." He thinks to himself, smirking under the mask, secretly pleased his sweetheart had won his teammates over.

...........................................................................................................................

@kaeyasfuturewife @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-lover-blog @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @redzluvvesage @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @skeletonsucker

[wolvietxt]

ᰔ chamomile tea !

↳ frank castle x female reader

you don’t hear him come in. the door creaks just a little, but your head stays bowed over the kitchen table, hands loose in your lap. there’s a soft ache behind your eyes that’s been growing all afternoon — nothing big enough to cry about, just one of those long, grey days that settles into your bones and stays there.

the hum of the kettle starts behind you. you blink once, slow. you didn’t ask. didn’t move. didn’t say a word.

but he knows anyway.

he doesn’t speak. never does, really, not when it’s like this. not when you’re worn thin and heavy in that quiet way that doesn’t want to be seen. but still — he sees it. he always does.

a mug appears beside your elbow, pushed close enough for the steam to touch your skin. honey. no lemon. two teabags.

you stare at it for a second too long. the soft golden color, the way it curls at the top from the heat. he’s already stepped back. leaning against the counter, arms crossed, like he didn’t just read your mood down to the last thread.

“thanks,” you say, voice barely above the whistle of the kettle cooling. you wrap your hands around the mug and let the warmth bleed into your fingers. it feels like something unwinding in your chest. slow and careful.

he shrugs like it’s nothing, like he didn’t just reach into you without touching. “long day?”

you nod. that’s all he needs.

he doesn’t push, doesn’t ask what happened. frank’s not the type. he lets the silence sit between you like something alive, something soft. doesn’t fill it with noise or questions or things you’re too tired to answer.

instead, he moves around the kitchen in that quiet, solid way of his — puts away a dish, runs the tap low. doesn’t look at you again, not yet. just stays close enough that you can feel the comfort of him nearby. familiar weight. steady hands.

you sip the tea. it’s perfect. warm and strong, sweet enough to catch on your tongue, like he knew exactly what would make your shoulders drop a little. he did.

you glance at him. his jaw’s tight like always, but there’s a softness in his eyes when he finally meets your gaze. like he’s checking in. like he’s listening without saying it.

“you always make it right,” you murmur. “even the bad-day version.”

he doesn’t smile, not exactly, but the corners of his mouth twitch like they want to. “’course i do.”

your lips quirk, just a little. “you keep a chart or somethin’?”

“just pay attention,” he says. then, a little softer, “that’s all.”

you look down again, to the tea. to the steam still rising. you don’t say it, but it means something — more than a drink, more than the routine of it. it’s him. it’s how he stays close without crowding. how he sees you without making you explain yourself.

“you always know,” you say under your breath. “even when i don’t.”

frank comes closer then, rests his hand against the back of your neck. warm and grounding. his thumb brushes the edge of your hairline, and it makes something in your chest ache in the best kind of way.

“you don’t gotta say anything,” he murmurs. “i’ll still take care of you.”

you lean into his touch. his palm is rough, calloused, but gentle as anything.

“you’re too good at it,” you whisper.

he huffs a small laugh through his nose. “nah. just got good taste in people.”

you smile into your mug.

he leans down, presses a kiss to the top of your head — soft, like he’s sealing in the comfort. “finish your tea, sweetheart.”

“yes, sir.”

his thumb strokes the curve of your neck once before pulling away. he heads for the hallway, probably to grab a blanket, maybe your favorite sweater from the bedroom. something else to tuck around you like protection.

but even if he didn’t — even if it was just the tea and the quiet and the closeness — you’d still feel held. because that’s what frank does. not loud, not showy. just steady. present. always two steps ahead when you need something without ever making you feel like a burden.

you sip again, slower now.

outside, the sun’s dipped past the window. shadows stretch long across the floor, but the kitchen feels warm. golden.

you wrap both hands tighter around the mug and close your eyes.

he always remembers.

FRANK CASTLE : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc, @erospecies, @seasonofthenerd, @the-dixon-effect

@sreidmia, @10ava01, @divierses, @408destiiny, @tinyminxi

@tcddszn, @xanaxiii, @Blu-jays, @chaoticcoffeequeen, @frankies-girl

@person-005, @malfoys-demigod, @wkhannah

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[writingstreetspirit]

Sleepless Nights

Summary: Bucky and Alpine keeps you company during a sleepless night

Pairing: Fiancé!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hinting of reader having insomnia but never actually stated

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: Hi everyone, I hope you’ll enjoy this piece that I started to write last night. I’ve had a rough couple of months, and now that I’m working I’ve not had as much time or energy to write, but I try anyways. Thanks for reading! 🫶🏻

—

The soft hissing of the boiling kettle was the only sound you could hear in the kitchen, the whole house dark and quiet with the night. Moonlight spilled in through the window above the sink, bathing the kitchen with a dim glow. You stood silently by the kettle, your favorite mug along with the teabag in hand, waiting on the water to boil.

Despite the peacefulness of the late hour, sleep would not find you. There wasn’t really any reason for your lack of restfulness, it just seemed like one of those nights where no matter how tired you were, you just couldn’t fall asleep. They come and go in periods, usually lasting for a few days with a couple of months apart each time.

After several hours of turning and tossing, staring blankly up at the bedroom ceiling, you had given up trying. You had gotten out of bed as silently as possible, managing to avoid waking up your asleep fiancé. You shrugged on your fluffy morning robe over Bucky’s t-shirt that you’d stolen to sleep in, since it was a little cold outside of the thick duvet.

Your socks clad feet had guided you to the kitchen on a mission for a warm cup of soothing tea. That trick usually worked whenever you’d had sleepless nights in the past, from when you became a teenager and nights absent rest became more regular.

A brush against your bare calf turned your eyes away from the kettle, looking down at the tiled floor. Alpine looked up at you from down by your legs, letting out a low meow. She butted her face against your skin, asking for you to pet her.

“Do you want some attention, sweet girl?” You gave her a tired smile, reaching down to pet her white fur. She purred at your touch, her eyes closing in enjoyment. You huffed a smile, scratching behind her ears gently, her purring intensified as you scratched her favorite spot.

“Hey.” A quiet voice tore your gaze away from Alpine, eyes landing on Bucky. He was standing by the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame. He had been bare chested when you’d left him in bed, but he wore one of his tight black t-shirts along with black boxers. Both of his arms were crossed across his chest, blue eyes soft with concern. “Why are you out of bed? Bad dreams?”

You stood back up, shaking your head while giving him a gentle smile. There was no use in trying to hide or deny the restlessness from Bucky, he was too observant when it came to you. ”No, just couldn’t sleep. I figured tea would help. Did I wake you?”

Bucky shook his head, his lips tugging up in a warm smile. He straightened up from the doorway, making his way over to stand beside you. Bucky bent down to strock Alpine’s back tenderly, his eyes still locked on you. “Woke up to your side of the bed being cold. I wondered where you’d gone.”

The kettle’s light flickered off right as Bucky finished speaking, signaling that the water was hot enough. You lifted up the kettle and poured the boiling hot water into your cup, setting the ceramic on the countertop. You turned to Bucky while reaching with your free hand toward the cabinet. “Want some?”

“Sure, doll.” Bucky gave a soft smile. Reaching into the cabinet, you grabbed hold of the cup he always drank his morning coffee or tea in. You put in the same flavored tea bag as you had in your cup into Bucky’s before pouring the hot water into the cup.

Bucky met you halfways as you handed over the ceramic, his calloused fingers lingering over your own for a moment. His finger brushed over the stone of the ring on your fourth finger absentmindedly, the one he had picked out and tenderly put on your finger three months earlier. Bucky leaned forward to press a long kiss against your temple, whispering against your skin. “Thank you.”

You huffed fondly in acknowledgement, pulling your hand away slowly to grab your own mug. Pinching the thread between two fingers, you moved the tea pouch up and down in the water, watching the clear liquid turn a soft golden colour. Once the water had turned the desired colour and a mild floral scent filled your nose, you pulled the pouch out and threw it away into the trash bin.

Taking a careful sip of the warm liquid, you hummed pleasantly as the soothing flavor hit your tongue. You turned around, leaning your lower back against the counter, letting the warmth from the cup warm up your hands for a few moments. Bucky copied your move after tossing away the pouch, leaning back against the kitchen island opposite you as he sipped from his tea.

“It’s one of those nights, huh?” Bucky spoke, his voice low and tender. His eyes held that same soft concern they always did the nights you couldn't find rest. Bucky had several times in the past asked you to wake him up to keep you company, so that ‘you wouldn't get lonely’ he had said. But you rarely did, you felt too guilty to do so since Bucky had trouble with sleep himself.

You gave a small nod, confirming Bucky's question. You took a long sip from the tea, sighing heavily. It was hard trying to downplay your exhaustion. It felt like your body and soul was screaming, ‘I’m so tired!’. “Yeah, it’s one of those nights.”

The long haired man before you gave you a sympathetic look, his trained observation skills immediately seeing what you were not saying. It was no use trying to go back to bed since you’d be up for several hours more at the least before sleep would claim you. Bucky reached out with his flesh arm, softly slipping it around your waist and guiding you out from the kitchen towards the living room. “Come on sweetheart, let's sit down somewhere more comfortable.”

Bucky guided you to the large sofa, carefully guiding you to sit down without spilling either of your or his tea in the process. He followed you down once you’d made yourself comfortable, his hands gentle guiding your legs to lay across his lap. His free hand soothed across your skin, his thumb massaging the flesh tenderly.

Alpine, who had followed behind the two of you, hopped up on the couch with a meow, laying down beside you. She was a smart cat like that, she was good at sensing whenever Bucky or you weren't your usual selfs and wanted to offer her comfort. You stroked your hand down her fluffy back in gratitude.

Your fiancé watched the scene silently for a moment, enjoying the view of his two favorite girls interacting. Bucky leaned forward and took the tv remote from the coffee table. He pressed the power button, turning the volume down to a low setting as the living room brightened with light from the screen. “What would you like to watch? How about 13 Going on 30?”

You light up at Bucky’s suggestion of one of your favorite movies, touched that Bucky would endure watching that movie again, even if the both of you had seen it enough times to know it completely from beginning to end. Bucky was always so good to you, even when he didn't believe it. You couldn’t wait to marry this man, to spend the rest of your life with him. You nodded, leaning back into the cushions. “Yes please, Bucky.”

Bucky chuckled fondly at your reaction. He searched up the title and pressed the title, turning on the movie. Putting down the remote, Bucky leaned back against the cushions. He stretched out his arm, offering space against his side. You scotched immediately into his warm side, leaning your head against his shoulder.

Sighing contentedly, you turned your attention towards the tv screen, letting the comfort of your small family sooth your tired soul. Sleepless nights weren’t that bad after all.

[moody-alcoholic]

If I was the reader in the secretary fic I think Johnny's behavior and Kyle's would actually hurt a lot, like it'd be funny at first but constantly seeing two of your partners not shut down and even encourage someone flirting and joking about going through with something with her would've been upsetting. How would the boys have reacted if reader had been genuinely hurt or made insecure by it?

I hear you, I agree. I believe they would have 100% stopped if the reader was uncomfortable or she asked them to stop. 

In fact, here you go…

_____

“I think we need to tone it back mate.” Kyle says as they leave the canteen. 

“Hum?” Johnny asks with a cigarette between his lips. He offers one to Kyle who refuses.  

“The flirting with Emily.” He says.

“Think she’s bothered by it?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“I think so, she missed breakfast.” 

“Maybe she’s just laying in?” 

“No, I bumped into her in the bathroom, she’s up.” They both stop outside the entrance to the barracks. Johnny blows out smoke and checks his watch. 

“Emily’ll be busy with Price and Si for the morning. Wanna talk to her together?” Johnny asks. 

“Don’t you have training?” Kyle asks, frowning. 

“Yeah but I'll be late.” Johnny says, Kyle rolls his eyes and heads into the building. 

...

“Morning.” Kyle says as he walks into the common room. 

“Morning.” You reply looking up from your phone. 

“Tea?” He asks going over to the kettle. 

“Yeah.” You say finishing off your mug and getting up. You walk over to him, rinsing it in the sink then putting it down next to him. You reach over for the teabags and his arm comes around your waist. 

You lean against him without even thinking. It’s nice to feel his hands on you again, he grips your hip pulling him closer to you and kisses you on the top of your head. 

“What’s all this?” You ask, smiling, you turn in his arm to look up at him. He smiles before leaning down to kiss you. It’s long and slow, one of his hands comes to your face and brushes your cheek.  

You’re still sinking into the kiss when more hands land on you. You break to feel Johnny press his face into your neck. Their hands run over your body, your heart rate picks up and you lean back against Johnny. 

“Wanted to remind you how important you are.” Johnny says between kisses. Kyle hums running his hands up and down your arms.

“How much we love you.” Kyle says, he leans down to kiss you again. This time Johnny’s hands start to run up your top, his fingers tease the bottom of your bra. 

“Sorry we’ve been flirting with Emily.” Johnny says, you break from the kiss. 

“I don’t- I know you’re joking.” You say feeling heat rush to your cheeks. 

“Doesn’t matter, it wasn't fair.” Kyle says. You hear a door open and Johnny’s hands drop out your shirt, but their hands dont leave you. You look up to see John and Simon walk around the corner. 

“Soap, shouldn’t you be at training?” Simon asks. Johnny’s hands leave you, you see Emily walk in, she looks over you both. 

“Oh no, what will I ever do if I missed the lecture on the safe and secure ways to handle C4?” He says walking through the room holding his hands up. 

“Some would argue there is no safe way to handle it.” You call, you hear him laugh as the door closes. You wrap your arms around Kyle, his arms come around you too, rubbing your back. You watch them all as they walk into John’s office. 

“Have you got training today?” Kyle asks. 

“After lunch you?” 

“No, I'm free, got plenty of time until lunch.” He says, raising an eyebrow. You smile breaking from the hug and grip his hand pulling him towards the bedroom.

______

[navydoves]

Mine soon enough

✎ᝰ cw. professor zayne, tense atmosphere, teacher/student, suggestive, somewhat yearning, very conversational writing, TENSE!

✎ᝰ a/n. i’m inconsistent in everything i post lol. this is written in a very specific way, hopefully it comes across in the tone i want it to.

࣪𖤐

“am i really allowed to be here after office hours like this?”

zayne glances back at you from where he was standing by the tea kettle on his desk and smiles just slightly. “why not? this is my office after all.”

“yeah, but,” you hesitate, “most other professors are really strict on their schedules. i didn’t expect you to be so um… lenient about this.”

a small, almost imperceptible chuckle escapes zayne. “you do know i’m only this lenient on you, right? god the headache i’d have if i had any other pesky students showing up and bothering me after hours.”

you glance to the side awkwardly and nod. “yeah… i know… it’s just a little strange… being your ‘favorite’ and all…”

“does it make you feel uncomfortable?” zayne’s voice cuts in quickly. he was clicking off the tea kettle now and preparing the two mugs with their respective tea bags.

“n-no… no it doesn’t,” you respond just as fast, “it’s just… not familiar to me. don’t take it personally professor, i only—“

“zayne,” he corrects while pouring the boiling water into the mugs. “zayne is better. you should get over all your formal habits when you’re alone with me. we’re friends, right?”

there’s a beat between you two before you nod.

“yes, friends.”

“well then as long as you’re not uncomfortable and we’re in equal footing here, there should be no problem. you would tell me if there was a problem right?”

another beat.

“yes… i would.”

zayne smiles slightly again. he places the kettle back down and starts properly dipping the teabags into the mugs before throwing them into the small can on the side.

“good. here, come get your tea.”

you move from where you were sat on the leather couch to zayne’s desk. the room was quiet apart from your gentle footsteps and zayne’s spoon swirling. you take your mug, identical to his, and scoop up a few spoonfuls of sugar. your gaze remains on the task below you rather than the man in front of you. he notices this.

“y’know i prefer tea over coffee too. i’ve always hated the bitter taste of coffee beans… even with all the sugar and cream added to it,” zayne hums.

you glance up at him and almost cringe at his attempt at conversation. “yeah, same. i’m not a coffee person…”

zayne looks you up and down with brows furrowed from scrutiny. he picks up his mug and takes a sip, eyes darting to the side in slight annoyance.

“lighten up a bit,” he murmurs. “i invited you to spend time with you. you know how much i enjoy your presence. i'd rather you not feel… weirded out.”

you finally stop stirring and meet zayne’s eyes for the first time. “i’m not… i don’t feel weirded out…”

“you do though,” he rebuttals, “you’re all tense and avoidant. am i doing something? we can take our leave, truly. just tell me.”

a small exhale escapes you after a moment of thought. you shake your head. “no, i’m… like i said im just not used to this. this type of treatment. the… personal hangouts we have in your office. the gifts. the grades. i think… i think we both know things are…”

zayne puts his mug down and mimics your earlier exhale. he moves around the desk and your eyes follow him. right behind you is where he stands, taller and towering, with his chin hovered just over your shoulder.

“i don’t want that to be a problem,” he whispers by your ear. “the hangouts, gifts, grades. i don’t want those to be a problem. i want to give you more, y’know? more… more of everything. are we overstepping lines? sure… but—“

“you are over stepping lines,” you murmur with a slightly shaky voice. the lingering warmth of him behind you was almost trapping you against the desk. “i… i haven’t done anything, you’ve done… you’ve made all the…”

“have you… not liked the attention?” zayne asks almost vulnerably.

“i never said that…”

“then is there an issue? you’re right, i’m overstepping lines, not you. if we got into some heat, i’d take the responsibility. does that mean something to you?” in the moments you hesitate to answer, zayne’s arm wraps around your waist and gently pulls you closer to an embrace. “i want it to mean something to you. what do i have to do?” he continues.

you wet your lips and search the desk below you for answers your mouth couldn’t form. you weren’t sure how long had passed before zayne backed off, but once he did, you quickly turn around to face him. he steps away with his arms up innocently, a look of shame on him.

“i’m sorry, im making you uncomfortable. im not sure what im doing.”

with your eyes avoiding each other, a long silence ensues between the both of you—charged with emotion and uncertainty.

“your tea is going to get cold, professor.”

zayne knits his brows together and trails his gaze slowly across the room, and then on you, and then on the tea.

“right.”

he steps back to his side of the desk and takes his still warm tea and avoids your presence while drinking. whether he wanted you here anymore or not, it was unclear. he notices your rogue, discarded mug of tea on the desk. barely touched and getting colder by the second. maybe it looked like regret.

your back was turned to him and facing the rest of the room, but you were still so close to the desk. unmoving. what was going through your mind, that was also unclear.

slowly, you put down your arms that were crossed in a defensive position, and glance down at the desk. zayne was no longer sipping his tea. you could only assume he was standing as silently and awkwardly as you were.

without much thought, you step back and sit on the desk, back still to zayne.

“my face is turned away, if it makes you feel any less guilty,” you whisper.

zayne’s eyes widen slightly. he looks over your body that was perched up on his desk. what a sight. “don’t say that like i’m some sort of… some sort of…”

“i’m not… insinuating anything, professor… or i guess ‘zayne’. i’m simply saying that, in the situation we’re in right now, guilt is normal to feel. but that… curiosity is too. so… i’m looking away.”

more tense silence.

“are you curious too?” zayne asks with a voice that’s barely there.

you don’t answer for a few moments.

“i’m a woman, zayne,” you murmur. “i can make my own decisions. we’re not too far off in age, yknow. we think similarly… i hope.”

amidst the quiet of the room, zayne walks closer to the desk. he stares right into your back and all of the crumpled fabric lines from your shirt.

“you’re a woman,” zayne whispers while reaching out and ghostly tracing a simple line over your shoulder blade. “and i’m a man. it works like that, doesn’t it? this is natural… isn’t it?”

you swallow. the very faint sensation of zayne’s fingertip makes you tense.

“y-yeah…”

zayne’s finger goes down to your mid back. here he feels you arch away instinctively, but still not rejecting him. he grows bolder with his touch, insisting a bit more with his finger tip until he’s tracing letters.

letters Z through E of his name. ZAYNE was on you.

“my attraction to you is natural, isn’t it?” he whispers. he reaches for the top hem of your shirt and then parts your hair from your neck, exposing your nape. with the pad of his thumb, he rubs there gently. the sensations on your skin were hair-raising.

“i… it is.”

“then does it come naturally to you too?”

you shudder softly as you feel more of zayne’s fingers rake over your skin. he abandons your neck, moving downward again until he was touching the small of your back.

“please, answer me.”

there’s more silence from you, but you break it with a whisper. “my face gives all the answers, but i already told you i’m not letting you look at me.”

“then how will i know how you feel about me too?”

no answer.

zayne looks down at where his hand is on your back and moves it lower to the bottom hem of your shirt. gently, he lifts it—so slow that a million thoughts came and passed in those long seconds.

at the top of your back, he scrunches up your shirt and admires the lines and curves of your skin.

“are you okay?”

“i’m fine.”

zayne rests his head against your back and closes his eyes. he felt stressed but also relieved. this far… he’s gotten this far…

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asks a little bit more desperately this time. his voice and breath tickled your skin a bit. “how am i supposed to know when i can’t even face you?”

you tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. the lights should be dimmer, you thought.

“i’m okay,” you whisper. “i don’t feel fear, i don’t feel nervous, i don’t feel anything. can you… will you make me feel something?”

zayne’s eyes fluttered open slightly. he turns his head back to the expanse of your smooth back and rubs his lips together. oh your words…

“i’ll become a man that’ll be capable of making you feel anything you want.”

the hands that were rested by your side went up to your upper mid back and touched the rough feel of your bra clip. with slight hesitation, zayne’s delicate fingers undo the clip and let it pull away to reveal your fully bare back. his eyes flutter even more now.

the moles and freckles of your usually hidden skin was an experience to his eyes.

“i’ll become a man so good that you won’t have to hide your face away in shame. after all, it’s natural, isn’t it?”

cool lips make contact to your back making you perk up instantly. the kisses were spread out, small in sound and in touch, and soon warm. zayne’s free hands not only steady you by the hips but also anchor himself through each press of his lips.

“i want you,” his voice rumbles against your skin.

“i know,” you respond.

“after graduation?”

“it’ll still be scandalous.”

“it’ll be scandalous regardless. who has to know?”

you bite your lip. “is it just a lustful thing, professor?”

your words make zayne stop his affections and stand straight.

“never,” he whispers. “have i… made you feel that way?”

swallow.

“no… no you haven’t, i’m not lying either. but… i mean dates and stuff, it’s all so public. we’d get noticed immediately, it’d be risky. but… everything else, that’s done privately. so i’m just wondering… how… or where… or what…”

zayne lets out a small humorless laugh. “you’ll be mine soon enough, without all those worries meaning. i get scared too, yknow? but i’m scared enough for the both of us, so don’t… doubt me.”

you smile a little, unsure of what exactly is humorous. “don’t doubt your ability to keep me a secret, you mean.”

“don’t put it like that, you have such a harsh way of saying things,” zayne exhales.

“right, right, i’m sorry.”

you reach back for his hands and gently pull him forward so that his arms crossed over your stomach.

“but that’s what i am, a secret. you’re a secret too. just… become a man capable of taking care of me, secret or not.”

zayne tightens his grip around you just slightly.

“i’m your professor,” he whispers with his forehead against the back of your cranium, “and if nothing else, my job is to you guide you. you’ll be mine soon enough.”

he presses one kiss to your hair.

“you will.”

࣪𖤐

[mundanenonsense]

part 2 of the biker!simon x learnerdriver!reader

3989 words (not really edited, sorry for any mistakes)

cw: slight NSFW, mdni, mentions of death, if there’s anything else I should mention, pls lemme know.

[previous] [next]

~

As soon as he stepped into the familiar house, Simon immediately kicked his boots off, bending over with a groan, his stiff muscles practically screaming at the sudden pull when he placed the boots on the shoe rack. His mask almost instantly got pulled off his face and thrown into the pocket of his hoodie, discarded and unnecessary. 

He knew his mother hated it. 

Slowly and silently he headed over to the kitchen, opening one of the windows to let some fresh, crisp spring air in as he proceeded to boil the water in the kettle, grabbing his mug, gifted to him by Joseph one Christmas. It was hand painted, chipped at the handle and a bit ugly. But to Simon it was one of his most prized possessions. That’s why when he was away, it lived right at the back of one of the higher cupboards, so that his mum wouldn’t accidentally knock it down and smash it.

Whenever he held something close to his heart, he would cherish it. Protect it. Do anything and everything not to break it. And for a man who’s job was to break stuff, he had to put quite a lot of effort into it. 

He was made to break and he knew it. Everyone who looked at him knew it. Strong, heavy muscles rippled under the inked skin, with every single movement. Hands that should be permanently stained with blood, were clean, only because he spent over an hour under a hot stream of a shower, meticulously scrubbing them, and the rest of his body, after returning to the base. The scars on his skin just reminded him that although he bore many, he probably caused hundreds if not thousands more through the years of being in the army. 

So now he was blankly staring at the teabag that currently sat in the hot water, as he oh so gently stroked his large finger over the little crack (that wasn’t his fault, Joseph dropped it himself whilst he was sat in Simon’s lap, explaining what each of the painted monstrosities was), eyes narrowed, cogs turning in is brain. 

He needed to find you. 

You. 

His beautiful, sweet, stranger with eyes that he was willing to do anything for and driving skills of a grandad with myasthenia, unable to press the gas pedal hard enough.

There was no point crying over spilled milk. Simon knew that. He had his chance and he fucked it. But maybe that was for good? Maybe he would have spooked you if he suddenly decided to beg you to marry him with a bolt nut instead of a ring? Maybe you’d have hated that? A woman as beautiful as you deserved only the best. 

He was a fucking twat, of course you wouldn’t want a fucking steel nut instead of an engagement ring.

In all fairness, you already looked like you were a split second from a breakdown, he was sure that even if he asked for your name, for your number, for anything at all, you’d have just deteriorated.

His poor, little driver. 

If only you knew how much he wanted to soothe all the stress that so clearly held you in its tight grip. 

To take it away. Calm you down.

Fuck knows well, he knew how. 

He struggled himself. He was running on fumes. The past months being away took their toll on him, they always did, no matter how much he tried to keep all of that inside. Maybe that’s why, when he saw those vulnerable, teared up eyes in the reflection of your rear view mirror, Simon was instantly and utterly gone? 

So genuine. So true.

Don’t worry sweetheart, from now on he would make sure that the only tears that would be guesting under your eyelids and sliding down your cheeks were those of happiness. Or overstimulation, from when he would fuck you breathless in the back seat of his car. Legs shaking, hands weakly holding onto his scratched up shoulders. Don’t worry, sweet thing, it wont scar, and even if it does, these will be some of his proudest scars that he acquired yet. Just trust him. Dig in deeper. Harder. Make it stick. He’ll kiss all those tears off as he drives his fat cock into your crying cunt again and again and-

But how? 

Simon took a sip of the hot tea, his calloused hand sliding over the tightness by the zipper of his cargos, humming quietly, grinding his teeth together. He rolled his neck, closing his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep, deep fucking breath, knowing he needed to calm down. Desperately. 

His mother could wake up and come downstairs at any minute and he didn’t really want her to see him sporting a raging hard on, or at worst explain to her that it was because he could not get his future wife out of his head. That wouldn’t be fair to you, sweetheart. But then again, it would probably never get mentioned. 

Not if he could help it.

Fast forward a few hours, Simon was comfortably and rather peacefully asleep on the soft sofa in the lounge, covered up with one of the knitted blankets his mother started making after her retirement. He was warm, his stomach was full, his mind was (somewhat) at ease after being pampered and waited on as soon as Anne found him sitting at her dining table. 

He knew she would do it, she always did. At first it annoyed him. The learned independence and self sufficiency from the years of growing up under his father’s iron fist and later the military made him struggle to adjust to her suddenly overbearing care. It took some time for both of them to adjust. A long time in fact. Before she stopped letting her paranoid thoughts take over every single time Simon would be sent away. And before he let her mother him whenever he was back without a grumble of complaint. 

So now he just let her.

Of course he did. 

He knew how hard she was trying to take care of him and Tommy whilst they lived with his father. How difficult it was whenever she’d try to help them after yet another beating, which would result in her getting one too. Anne was so fucking full of love and care that Simon began denying her that for years, afraid that it will end critically for her. He knew that one day he would have to stand up to his father and when it finally happened, he needed his mother by his side. Because fuck knows that Tommy wasn’t in the state to do anything.

Losing people made him both desensitized to death and yet so incredibly, overly aware of it. 

He knew he’d lose Anne one day. 

So if she fucking wanted to treat him like a kid whilst he visited her between the missions, he’d let her.

And although the sleep was truly a blessing, it was disrupted when he heard the quiet sound of the door opening, the metal squeaking against the hinges, wood brushing over the doormat and quiet rustling of something being passed between hands. Simon’s eyes staying closed but body instinctively tensed up, so that he was ready to throw himself off the sofa and straight at the potential danger. 

“Oh, ta lovey, you sure spoil me wi’ all these! Do you wanna come in? I’ll make us a brew. Me lad’s come to see me, but he’s fast asleep in’t living room, it won’t bother ’im, pet.” 

“No, no, Anne, thank you, I’ve got a tonne of work to do at home, got a new commission so I’ve got to work on it, but I’ll pop in for a brew at some point in the week, yeah?” 

Simon’s shoulders relaxed and he breathed in deeply, hearing an unfamiliar feminine voice decline his mum’s invitation, grateful that he wouldn’t have to deal with one of her gossiping friends. In moments like this he was jealous of Tommy being all hitched with Beth and their lil shitling attached to his hip. He was officially off the table when it came to the matchmaking. 

Simon wasn’t ever interested, of course. But that didn’t mean that his mum and her pain in the ass friends didn’t try.

But now you have so serendipitously appeared in his life. 

He just had to secure you permanently somehow. 

As the front door shut, he got up from the couch with a groan, his knees and shoulders cracking as he stretched. He met his mother half way to the kitchen, where she gently patted his upper arm (struggling to reach the shoulder with the arthritis slowly settling in her joints, bless her heart) and nodded at the kitchen.

“Just me neighbour’s made us some biccies, she’s a good hen like that. Come on, I’ll stick the kettle on, make you a coffee, an’ you can ‘ave some. You’ve proper lost weight fightin’ out there. They wanna feed you lads better in’t army if they expect you t’scrap proper.”

And to his satisfaction, the biscuits were truly great. Crunchy, but not overly dry. Not too sweet to cause heartburn either. They were a buttery goodness that melted on his tongue as he chewed one by one, unable to stop. 

Anne and her feeding habits were a welcome change. The hunger that he suppressed for such a long time was demanding to be felt too.

But with every single bite he couldn’t help but think about biting into you. 

Sinking his teeth into your soft looking skin, anywhere and everywhere you would let him leave a mark. He’d be gentle of course, he could not risk hurting you (too much). A sensitive thing like you, who clearly was struggling to drive faster than 30 miles per hour must have been delicate. 

He wondered how the rest of your lesson went. 

He really should have followed that stupid white car just to make sure no driver who was stuck behind you would stress you out more than you already were. 

If anyone as much as tried to use their horn, he would deal with them. Don’t you worry your sweet, little head. He saw how you reacted almost crashing into the hedge when he revved the engine. The sound of a car horn would likely send you spiraling and he could not let that happen to his brave little driver. It’s okay sweetheart, you’d never have to encounter that dumb fuck again. Why? Well, silly goose, you can’t really use the horn or even drive for that matter, if you don’t have arms, no? Oh wait, you can? Well, he’d make sure to discourage them from getting behind the wheel ever again. He’s good at threatening people into submission. That’s kind of a part his job.

He’d happily cuddle you afterwards. Wrap his big arms around you tenderly, stroke your soft hair and tell you how well you did and that one day you’ll own the roads. Even if he had to somehow close off the whole city so that you could drive stress free. Bomb threat perhaps? Terrorist threat? Murder every single driver registered as living in Manchester and close off all the entry roads into the city? Slash the tires of every single car? Johnny would surely help with that. Especially if he was doing it for his lieutenant’s bird.

Before Simon knew it, he was standing in front of the neighbour’s door, helmet in one hand, empty and washed out tupperware box in the other, knocking against the hard wood with the tip of his shoe. “Seein’ as yer not stayin’ over tonight, pet, can yer take that tupperware box next door? If yer don’t, I’ll only forget, yer know what I’m like, Si.” He once again couldn’t say no. He ate majority of the biscuits anyway, the least he could do was return the bloody plastic box to the owner. 

He heard snapping of the lock bolts as the key turned from inside and then the door opened, revealing you.

The air got knocked out of his fucking lungs, eyes opened wider, the grip of his hands tightened, afraid that he was going to drop everything he was holding as he stared into those beautiful eyes which haunted him every single time he closed his own, even to blink, since this morning. 

Looks like he didn’t have to spend his evening planning on how to find you at all. 

You were right here, under his fucking nose this whole time and he had no idea. Now staring up at him, chin darted up, head tilted back a little to accommodate for the height difference between the two of you. 

Future Mrs Riley was so much prettier when there wasn’t a car window in the way. 

You stood there, one hand on the doorframe, ready to shut it closed (good girl, look at you, staying so careful, he’s so proud of you), eyes narrowed a little as you studied his features, clearly not recognising him, but sizing him up. He was a stranger after all. 

Strangely handsome, but still, a stranger who was for some reason stood at your door, staring at you silently, making it impossible to tear away from his intense, dark gaze (was it dark or were his pupils just abnormally blown? Was he on fucking drugs? Nah, Simon was in fucking love, and when someone is in love, their pupils dilate. But how could you know sweetheart? Just stay oblivious for now.). You weren’t entirely sure why. Maybe because it felt like a challenge? First person to look away loses. As if you were both taking part in some dumb staring contest, but from the way he was looking at you, you could tell it wasn’t a fight for dominance. 

At least not anymore. 

Because as much as you always read in your silly books, the author describing that someone’s gaze softened, you didn’t really understand what that meant. Until now. Because a couple moments after your eyes met his, you could see it happening. 

The whole demeanor shifting. His furrowed eyebrows relaxed, deep set wrinkles disappearing from between them, although still leaving delicate lines in their place. The eyes seemed to have lost their sharp edge, that intensity remaining, but now having taken on a gentle way to it. They weren’t indifferent, cold, even scrutinising anymore. No. 

Simon cleared his throat, looking away first, down at the tupperware box in his hand. 

Something he rarely did. He was a manmade predator. He knew how to intimidate, scare, make someone feel like a little roach about to be squashed under his boot. But in this moment, standing at your door, he couldn’t help but want to drop to his knees and beg for you to walk all over him. Just to confirm this was not a fucking daydream and that for once, life has fucking smiled at him and said ‘hey, there you go, have it the easy way mate’. Walk over him like a fucking marching band, please, pet. Run him over with a car for all he cares. At the speed that you drive at, the worst he’d get was a couple broken ribs and a sprained wrist and that is nothing, lovey. He’s been through worse.

Fuck, you turning in the opposite direction on that junction this morning seemed to hurt worse. 

You still stared at him, curiosity flashing through your eyes as he dropped his, but you let yourself study his face for that quick moment. The slightly crooked nose, messy blonde hair that he clearly put no effort into styling, sharp jaw with a freshly trimmed beard, a few scars, a particularly nasty looking one that ran down the length of his cheek, a split bottom lip that was almost healed and a yellow bruise painted on the temple. 

Man’s been through shit.

“Hi?” You said quietly, a little hesitantly as you attempted to catch his eyes again, tilting your head to the side.

Simon’s eyes snapped back up to yours as if your sweet voice gave him the permission to indulge in the beauty that you oh so kindly provided and blessed him with.

He couldn’t believe his luck. Maybe he choked on one of the biscuits that turns out you made and now he was dead and somehow he made his way to heaven. Somehow. If he clawed his way into there, he didn’t remember that, but surely he wasn’t just invited. Not with all the fucked up things he’d done in his life. But if this was the promise of heaven, he’d happily do anything to experience even the snippet of it.

He needed to say something, anything that would make you stay, indulge you, keep you from shutting the door in his face, something that would portray all the fucking intensity of scrambled up emotions he was feeling right now. Fuck, would it be weird if he ran to his bike now and undid one of those nuts and came back asking for your hand? He couldn’t ask without a ring. He didn’t have anything on him that could imitate one. “Th’ biscuits were mint, pet.” 

You raised your eyebrows as he extended the tupperware box to you, realizing that he must have been the son Anne mentioned earlier when you dropped the sweet treat off. You assumed she was talking about Tommy, Tommy was often over.

Not this absolute behemoth of a man who, for a brief moment after opening the door, you expected to pull out an axe and just kill you on the spot. 

She spoke to you about him over a cuppa one day. Samuel was it? You’d never seen him, only heard about him, which made sense since he was a soldier who apparently spend majority of his life away on deployment or out at the base. 

Well, now he was here and he complimented the biscuits you stress baked after yet another unsuccessful driving lesson. You were surprised he enjoyed them. Thought the tears that streamed out of your eyes as you mixed the batter would have made them a tad too salty.

“Oh, I’m glad. Thanks, Samuel.” Big, well deserved pat on the back for you, showing off that you listen, that you know who he is, without him having to introduce himself. You’d known his ma for a few months now after moving next door to her. She almost immediately decided to kind of adopt you, after learning that ‘y’ were just a teeny thing, livin’ all on ‘er own.’.

He appreciated the try. Really. No, honestly. If you wanted to call him Samuel, he’d let you. Hell, he’d change the name in all his documents if it made you happy. “‘Ts Simon, love.”

And he fucking immediately wished he never said that and actually went with the idea of a name change, because the way your eyes instantly saddened broke him. There was that worry in them again that he saw in the morning. The expectation of punishment almost. Guilt. Upset. You looked as if you just admitted to killing his childhood pet, not accidentally calling him the wrong name. 

No, no, no, sweetheart don’t be upset with yourself. In his head he already promised himself to only make you cry for two specific reasons. This wasn’t one of them. Please don’t beat yourself up for it. He should have taken it back, the nervous stuttering of all the half words and sorries filled his ears and he wanted nothing more than to cup your flushed cheeks and kiss those words off your lips. 

Don’t be sorry, sweetheart, don’t apologize, not to him, not to anyone, ever. You tried. That’s all that matters. He can be Samuel from now on, really. Promise.

Just like when you mouthed the ‘I’m sorry’ through the closed window of the car. 

Poor thing. 

Guilt didn’t suit you.

But your name that you introduced yourself with in the midst of all that babble did indeed suit you. He chewed on it for a moment as he repeated it in his head, memorizing it, tasting it, almost choking on it as he finally said it out loud.

He watched your eyes wonder to his motorbike helmet as you tapped your thumb quickly on the lid of the plastic box that you held in your little, slender hands. 

Were you realizing who he was? Were you remembering the intimate (intimidating), heartfelt (angry) looks he was giving you as he stared at your reflection in the rearview mirror of your car? 

Surely you must realize.

He would recognize you just by your eyes anywhere. How could you not do the same?

Did you just not care? 

Were you truly this fucking oblivious? 

Or were you just pretending?

“Let me get you some more of those biscuits. As a sorry for getting your name wrong. I think I’ve got some left…” 

He stared at the open door as you rushed back into the depths of your house. 

Stranger danger, did your parents not teach you about it? 

But he wasn’t really a stranger was he? You shared someone in common. Anne told you about Simon. He was her fucking son. And she lived next door, it’s not like he would do anything to you, at least in your head. In his head he wanted to do everything to you. But you’d enjoy it, obviously. 

So at least both of you were sure that no hurt was on the cards.

He would never do anything to hurt his missus.

Now standing in the doorway, was he supposed to follow you? Was that an invitation?

He fucking hoped it wasn’t, because if he walked in right now, his claws would settle deep into the floorboards and he’d refuse to leave. Would you even want him to leave? Would you ask him to stay? He never stayed. He never accepted any food offered to him just like he never opted for the post fuck cuddles. That wasn’t something he ever wanted really. 

Nah, he had shit to do. Reports to write. Places to be. People to train. Guns to clean.

He was full, he didn’t need more biscuits. His mother fed him more calories today than his usual weekly allowance was during deployment. 

But then again, if his future Mrs Riley insisted, he’d gladly stuff those biscuits down his throat, even if it meant his stomach was going to suffer. He’d do it with a damn big smile. Just to show you how much he fucking appreciated you feeding him. Hoping that you’d feed him forever. Was your pussy a meal you’d consider giving him too? Because fuck, he’d devour it as a pallet cleanser between all the biscuits he was willing to eat. Just let him have a taste. Please. He’d make it worth your while. His face stuffed between your legs, hands tightly wrapped around your thighs, keeping you nice and spread open for him as he munched on you like a man starved, singing praises into your pretty cunt about how nice she tastes. Drinking up all the juices. Staying hydrated was important after all.

That’s when you could cry, lovey. He’d lick those tears right off too. Can’t let your sweetness (or saltiness in this case) go to waste.

“Come in, Simon, shut the door behind you, the draft’s chilly!”

Without thinking twice, Simon stepped into the house, shutting the door quietly behind him. Hearing his name in that sweet voice of yours was like a call to prayer. Like a call from the goddess who he swore to worship until the day he died. You were cold? Oh you poor, pretty eyed thing… Don’t worry, angel, he’d happily set himself on fire if his body heat itself was not enough to keep you warm.

~

hope you liked it!

requests open, I guess?

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@anonymouse1807

@shesneverreallythere

[satorusugurugurl]

Can you plssss write jjk men reacting to you spilling boiling water on yourself. Fluff but also smutt.. like y/n quickly takes off her shorts after it gets on her, cause it’s hot…THANK YOUUUU I LOVE YOUR WRITING 🙏🙏

JJK Men: That’s Hot!!

Summary: When you spill boiling water on your pants, the logical thing to do is to take them off!

Pairing: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru Nanami Kento, AFAB!Reader

Warnings: fingering, kissing, smut, difrry talk, unprotected smut, oral smut (F receiving) suggestiveness

Word Count: 5.1K

A/N: i freakin’ fell asleep and posted the title, the freaking title! 🤣 anyways! Here’s the full post! Nanami’s had me biting my lip! 😮‍💨

Gojo Satoru:

“Nooo!!” Satoru groaned as the kettle on the stove started to whistle. “I just got comfy!”Your blue-eyed boyfriend looked up from your chest, which he was pressing his face into. “Don't go; you can't just leave me.”

“Toru, it’s ten feet away.”

He pursed his pretty lips together before sighing overdramatically as he pulled himself away from your chest. Maneuvering your way from underneath him while he put all his dead weight on you was a struggle, but you somehow managed to pull out with a huff. Seeing you pull yourself up and off the ground, clearly winded from the effort it took to free yourself, had him smirking.

“Don't look so smug, asshat, or you can find someone else to motorboat.” You watched as Gojo stared at you blankly before pulling his phone out and texting someone. “Who are you texting?” you asked as you entered the kitchen.

“Seeing Suguru is free for motorboating.” You barked out, boating, pulling the whistling kettle off of the stove as Satoru’s phone dinged. “Oooh~ he said he could pencil me in on the twelfth—”

“The twelfth?” you cocked a brow in his direction as you went about preparing your mug and teabag.

Your boyfriend's silence had you peeking up at him as he dropped his long arms over the back of the couch with a pout. “Of never.”

You laughed out loud, from Satoru’s puppy dog eyes to the pout, which was a mistake. It was karma, deciding to act right then instead of making you wait. Being too busy laughing at the apparent suffering of your boyfriend resulted in knocking the mug over. And since you were pressed against the countertop. The second ill boiling water hit your upper thighs in a flash.

A screech left your mouth as you jumped back, thanking some higher power for reminding you to wear shorts. You yanked them down, grimacing as you kicked the slightly steaming fabric away, leaving you in nothing but your panties. Around that same time, Satoru rounded the corner, concerned, stitched into his features, only to be smacked in the face by your discarded shorts.

“Fuck!” you bent over, trying to see the damage the water had done. “Ooh fuck!”

“Hold on!” In a breath, Satoru had you up on the other counter, pushing you back slightly to examine your thighs. “Are you okay?” Long ivory fingers hesitantly moved over the tops of your thighs, searching for any discoloration. Thankfully, he didn't see any burns on your beautiful skin.

With the adrenaline and your heart rate slowing down, you took a deep breath, relieved to know you weren't hurt. You watched as Satoru rubbed his fingers over your sweet, soft skin, massaging his thumbs into the plump flesh of your thighs. You mewled softly, eyes rolling back at his thumbs' slow, tender strokes. How they inched closer and closer towards your panties, and how they went from sweet, gentle touches to hungry, fire-fueled need.

“Satoru,” you softly purred, watching. I think I—mmm!” Your head bowed, your lips parted, as Satoru pushed his thumb up further towards the band of your underwear. “I think that I’m okay.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

His fingers pushed the flimsy fabric of your underwear to the side, toying with your slick folds. The sudden contact had you gasping hands, gripping the edge of the counter as Satoru’s lips down your neck, pressing the fist of touches against your sensitive skin. The feeling of his thumb against your core, your buck your hips against his hand, silently begging for more.

While teasing you would be fun, Satoru was feeling a bit impatient himself. So his skilled thumb moved further up your delicate folds, finding your clit in an instant. The gasp that left your mouth was music to his ears. His thumb moved up, rubbing circles around the bundle of nerves in teasing strokes, making your nails dig harder into the counter. With each stroke of his skilled thumb, your grip on the counter loosened as the urge to dig into his skin increased.

Seeing how you purse your lips together and how your eyebrows twitch fueled the fire in your boyfriend‘s stomach. A fire he would gladly kindle without any other thoughts. He pulled his hand away before any protest could leave your mouth, two fingers inside of your wet pussy, stretching you out.

“Oh fuck Toru—! Yes! Yes!” You cried out, arching your back against his chest, your eyes going wide as he began moving his fingers in and out of your heat.

“Fuck you’re so tight.” he whojed, pumping his fingers in and out of you at a faster pace.

“O-Oh god!” you whimpered as he pumped his fingers faster, his thumb moving up, rubbing your clit once more drawing out cries from you that reverberated off the walls of the kitchen. “Satoru!”

“Fuuck—fuck yes, baby, squeeze down on my fingers, and I’ll make you feel better.”

You were so drunk off his touch, but you did as he said, squeezing around his fingers, eager to see what he had planned to make you feel even better. When Satoru felt your slick walls constrict, he didn’t make you wait any longer. He curled those heavenly fingers up, pressing them right against your g-spot. Your mouth fell open, and your eyes wide as pleasure wrecked your body.

But he didn’t stop there.

Gojo hooked his fingers up and thrust them firmly against the spongy spot. He pressed into it with every jerk of his hand and wrist, pushing you closer to the edge with each stroke inside your walls and against your clit. The dual pleasure finally caused you to release. Your hold on to the cool marble countertop any longer. They quickly moved to his shoulders, which had been a wise decision on your part because the second Gojo felt the sting of your nails in his skin. He lost all control.

He began finger fucking you like a madman. His head dropped forward, teeth digging into your neck before moving up, grazing your ear, smothering the growls that flowed through him like a feral animal that had marked you as prey. Your toes curled, legs squeezing desperately around your boyfriend‘s hand as you roll your hips against him, chasing your release.

You didn’t even need to beg for it because Satori knew your body, and he knew you were close. “You gonna cum baby?” You could nip at your ear, drawing out a wanton and moan from your pretty lips.

“Y-Yes Toru! Pl—please I’m so close!”

“Cum on my fingers, cum all over my fingers, baby.”

Satoru took a step back, watching your face as you rode the waves of pleasure. His fingers were drenched with your slick, making them even easier to move in and out of you. Seeing your release all over his hand awakened a deeper, more primal need within Satoru. He needed to taste you, to be buried inside of you, God he wanted you, bad.

He continued slowly, working his fingers inside of you, helping you ride out the last waves of pleasure that wrecked your body. When your walls stopped constricting around him, you finally allowed yourself to open your eyes, looking up at Satoru, only to notice him looking down where his fingers were still buried inside of you.

“Baby,” you asked, “Baby, you good? Because I’m feeling great.” The sigh you let out was so sultry, so teasing; Gojo’s pretty cerulean eyes snapped up at you.

“Oh, you’re good?”

“Yeah, so good.”

“Oh, that’s great to know.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you, moving to grip both your thighs as he carried you back to the couch, plopping you down there. “So good to know because I’m not.”

His reaction had your chest constricting as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “What? Why? Did som—?!” Your string of questions was promptly silenced as Satoru shoved you back onto the couch before lifting his shirt, revealing his toned muscles.

“I was nice and comfy earlier.” His hands reached down, tugging his shorts down just enough to free his cock. “Now you’re gonna make me work to get comfy again.”

“Oh, yeah, I did that, didn’t I?” You purred, spreading your legs, allowing him to press his cock against your entrance with a hiss. “I can only assume it will take a while for you to find that sweet spot.”

“Oh, sweetpea, I’ll find it in record time.”

Nanami Kento:

“Mhmm~” You moaned, eyes rolling back as he licked your lips. “Ooh fuck.” You swallowed happily, glancing up at your husband, smirking back. “Ken~”

“I have perfected it.”

“You have!” You put the spoon you had just used in the sink of warm, sudsy water. “Fuck that Alfredo is perfection!”

Then again, so were the other times he had made it. This time, however, he had gone above and beyond. Maybe it was the brand of Parmesan cheese he had purchased or the butter he browned before adding heavy cream and cheese. But for some odd reason, this was the best Alfredo sauce he had ever made.

Your husband returned his gaze to the simmering pot on the stove. He used the whisk to ensure I didn’t burn at the bottom. He had an almost smug smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, which was almost uncharacteristic. But the man had a God-given right to be complacent, especially when he made a sauce taste as good as sex. Not only was he the god of cooking himself, but he looked like a sex god on top of that.

He wore a tight-fitting T-shirt, gray sweatpants that left a little to your imagination, and a black apron that hugged him perfectly. Saturday evenings were the best evenings when you decided to stay home to cook. You not only spent time with your husband, but you also had dinner and a show.

“Love, do me a favor and collect some of that boiling pasta water so our noodles won’t stick together.”

“Fuck, I love it when you took culinary science to me.”

“Oh yeah? Does it get my darling wife going?”

You were in the process of scooping boiling water into a mug to set aside. But the sound of your husband calling you, his darling wife, and you biting down on your bottom lip. The same lip that you had gotten busted by a curse on your most recent mission. So when your teeth made contact with your lip, you jolted in pain, dropping the ladle to rub at your mouth and bleeding lip, thus dropping the ladle of hot water all over the front of your shorts.

“Ow!” You cried out in both pain and fear that the boiling water was going to burn your skin. As quickly as it happened, your husband was quicker. He Move the pot of simmering sauce to the back burner, before moving, grabbing one arm around your waist while the other reached down yanking your shorts off.

“Love?! Honey, are you okay?”

You reached down, running your fingers over the top of your thighs, relieved that the hot, boiling water had managed to soak through your shorts and burn your skin. “Yeah! Yeah, I think I’m okay!” You sighed, eyes following the trail of your hands, further confirming that you were, in fact, all right.

“Are you sure? Positive?”

“Yeah, Ken, I’m okay.”

“Because you know, I’ve been taking excellent care of our aloe vera plant, and I don’t mind snipping off one of its leaves for you.”

What had you done to deserve such a sweet and caring man? “Yes, Ken, I'm positive that I’m okay.” You trailed your fingers up his chest. “I’m lucky you’re fast at removing my clothes. Otherwise, I’m not sure if I would be okay.” Your husband glanced down, looking at your bare legs. “I can’t remember the last time you took my pants off that fast. Maybe it was our fourth year at Jujutsu High? We are right when we took our relationship to further levels,” you waggled your brows at him, “and you had just gotten back from a weeklong mission.” Nanami smiled fondly at the memory of your younger days.

“I remember that; I think I had the driver drop me off right in front of your dorm; you kept teasing me through text messages.”

“I didn’t expect you to rip my clothes off of me.”

Nanami chuckled; returning to the stove, he grabbed two oven mitts off the counter, took the boiling pasta to the sink, and drained it into the colander. “I couldn’t help myself back then.” He hummed, shifting the elbow, macaroni, pasta, and colander thoroughly draining out of water.

“Oh, and you’re saying you have more self-control now?”

“Yes, I do.”

You cross your arms over your chest, watching your husband quickly construct the Alfredo chicken casserole he made for dinner. He puts it into a baking pan before adding the sauce and topping it with freshly grated cheese. You had an idea, an idea that requires his hands to be free. You wait until the casserole dish is inside the oven and your husband has removed his apron before licking your lips.

“Ken.”

Honey-brown eyes met yours, and you watched his blonde brow cocked. “Yeah—” his words trail off as he watched you lift your shirt, tossing it to the floor with your wet shorts. “Oh, what do you think you’re doing?” You reached behind, unclasping your bra, allowing it to fall to the ground.

“We need to spice things up and relive a few of our memories.” You see how your husband’s eyes darkened with me at your words. “Now, what was it? I said back then to get you so flustered?” You tap your finger against your chin and faux thought. “ I vaguely remember you being extremely frustrated on that trip. Something to do with Gojo—”

“Please do not bring that idiot up right now.”

It was like nothing had changed.

“Oh, right! You said something along the lines of how you would find a way to destroy Gojo. And I’m pretty sure I said something along the lines of, ‘Why destroy him when you can destroy my pussy instead’? Does that sound right to you?”

Your husband made no signs of confirmation or denial because he was too busy picking you up by your ass, carrying you to the nearest wall he could find. You couldn’t even make a sound of surprise because his lips had a hold of yours so fast he swallowed any moans. Your husband’s fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, holding you so tight. You were certainly going to have bruises later. You hit the back of the wall hard, and Nanami made quick work, ripping the flimsy fabric of your panties off.

“You know exactly what to say to push my buttons, don’t you?” His breath was hot against your lips, leaving you shivering, coding your skin, and making the tiny hair on your arms rise. “You know exactly what to say or how to get me to reminisce; just send me over the edge.”

You listened, and he reached down, wrestling fabric your pussy to throb in anticipation. “Well,” you swallowed hard, “I don’t exactly see you complaining.” Kento scoffed against pulling lips, feeling his twitching, leaking cock rubbing against your entrance.

“I have no complaints aside from one.”

“Oh, and what is that?”

To answer his question, he slammed inside of you, stretching your walls to the point that it was almost painful, but the pleasure overrode the pain as he shoved himself into your deepest parts. Your mouth, fate, eyes wide as he growled against your lips. You stayed still, both of you taking the other in. Your shallow breaths with his deep grunts as he tried to hold himself back. Nanami wanted to savor how you felt around his cock.

And it felt fucking fantastic.

“Oh my god, Ken.” You finally broke the unending silence. “You’re so fucking thick.”

“And you’re so tight; you were made for me. I never want anyone but you. Each time I slide inside of you, I lose myself and everything that is you. Your smell, the sounds you make, and how you grip onto me for life. I fucking love you.”

“I love you t-too—nngh!”

Your last words were cut off with a moan as Nanami slammed himself inside of you. His cock pulled all the way out, the head of his cock snagging on the tight muscles of your entrance before he pushed himself back in further, trying to go deeper than he ever had before. Nanami loved you; every part of him loved you.

And you loved him just as much. You cried out, digging your nails and shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist, holding him inside of you, making it hard for him to pull out. Not that he wanted to pull out. Being inside of you was like heaven on earth. If he could get away with staying in bed with you for all of an eternity, he would.

His eyes shut tight as he nipped and sucked at your shoulder, fuck you against the wall like you were nineteen-year-olds again. It was raw, full of passion and need because he remembered that night years ago. No matter how many years passed, you were still as beautiful as the day he asked you out. You both were shy back then. But now, you were fucking crazy for each other.

“Oh fuck!” You screamed, feeling yourself already dangerously close to climaxing. “Oh fuck—fuck, b-babe!” You tried to catch your husband’s attention, but he was so lost in how you felt that he barely heard you. “B-Baby!? I-I’m gonna cum! Oh fuck Kento! I-I’m gonna—!”

Instead of encouraging you or telling you to do it, your husband continued, slamming into the head of his cock, kissing your cervix. It was combined with his teeth, sinking into your skin, and had you cumming around his cock like the good little slut you were. You screamed, tilting your head back as you slid your nails down the back of his T-shirt. And even though there was a fabric between your bodies, Nanami could still feel the sting of your nails against him. That had his hips stilling as he roared into your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed as he came right against your cervix, filling you to the brim with his hot, sticky cum.

“Haaah,” you moaned in a daze, blinking as you dropped your head to look down at Nanami. “K-Kento nngh babe?” Your fingers ran through his silky blonde locks, trying to draw his attention to make sure that he was still, in fact, alive after that intense orgasm. “Honey?” Your question was not ignored. Instead, Nanami snarled again, slamming you down on the kitchen table towering above. “Ahh!” You squealed, laughing loudly as Nanami’s fierce, lust-filled eyes glanced at the clock on the stove.

“I have you for the next twenty minutes. I’m going to fuck your brains out; then we’re going to lay on the sofa, completely naked, wrapped in a blanket, while we have dinner. Giving you more than enough time to regain some form of composure before I take you in the shower and I fuck you so hard you’re going to have to call out sick.”

“H-Holy fuck Kento!? What’s gotten into you?”

You watched with wide eyes as your husband reached down, grabbing his shirt with one hand and ripping it over his head. “Love, nothing’s gotten into me other than just how much I love you.”

Geto Suguru:

“I’m home!” Geto announced as he entered your shared apartment. His eyes roamed, searching for any signs of the girls or you. But there was no nefarious giggles to be heard or that of chitchat her from the living room. “Anybody ho—?”

The sound of a pot being dropped rang out from the kitchen. “Oow!!” That was the sound of your voice.

Without hesitation, Geto rounded the corner just in time to watch you shimmy out of your shorts. He blinked at the scene unfolding in front of his eyes. An empty saucepan, which most likely contained water, rolled on the floor, the liquid spreading out against the tile. You danced on your tiptoes, avoiding the hot water as best you could while trying to undress yourself from the bottom down.

While you were dancing around, Geto noticed you weren’t wearing any panties, which wasn’t unusual considering you had been at home all day. It was a lovely sight to come home to see. Usually, it would be if you weren’t currently jumping around steaming hot water.

“Hey! Hold on!” Geto scolded as he noticed your toes inching too close to the water. “Wait right there!”

A flash of dark hair crossed your peripheral vision before you were scooped up into big, strong arms and carried to the living room, away from the dangerous water. “T-Thanks.” You gasped, leaning against the couch and sinking into its plush cushions.

“What were you doing?”

“Well,” you sighed, glancing down at your boyfriend, who was crouched on the floor in front of you, his hands resting against yours, dark eyes watching you very closely, eagerly awaiting to see what you had to say. “I saw this video on TikTok.”

“Oh my god, you and the girls’ obsession with TikTok.”

“Stop it; it’s something that we can bond over.” You sighed, Running a hand down your face. “Anyways, I saw a video for this adorable cat jello mold, so obviously, I bought it, and I was planning on making the super cute cat for dessert tonight, but I don’t think I had the pan on the stove all the way because I was uh—-I was a little distracted.”

“Let me guess.” Suguru smirked, “Watching more TikTok’s?”

“That point is irrelevant, but in my distraction, I didn’t notice the pan was on the stove all the way, so the handle got too hot. When I grabbed it, I freaked out and tried to put it back on the stove, only to end up spilling some of the water on myself.”

Suguru’s eyes shut down towards your bare thighs. “So that explains the impromptu show I got to see.” You reached out, smacking his upper arm with a pout, and he laughed at your pretty pout as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m sorry baby, you’re not hurt, right?” As if to answer his question, you ran your hands down your legs, searching for any source spots or visible burns on your skin.

“No, I don’t think so.”

His fingers followed the same traces your fingers made; only heat followed his touch. “You sure?” He coaxed, eyes leaving your face to focus on your skin. “Because I think—I see a mark right here.” You watched with curious eyes as his fingers traced over skin that had no visible mark or resulted in pain under his touch.

“I think it’s fin—”

“I’ll kiss it better.” He interrupted, head dipping down to press chaste kisses against the top of your thigh. You gasped at the sudden touch of his lips against your bare skin. “Oh, and would you look at that?” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shaking his head as his hands found another ‘sore spot.’ “My poor baby, you’re hurt here too.”

His fingers and lips continue to find little marks all over your legs from the top of your thighs down to your kneecap before slowly working his mouth down your calf to your ankle. By the time his eyes lined up, meeting your half-lidded gaze, he gave you a cocky smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing. There was something about teasing you to the point that you could no longer handle it, which always made him feral. He loved to get you so worked up you squirming underneath him.

Usually, on nights like this, when the girls are going to be home soon, he would work you up so that when they finally went to bed, you both were alone and in the comfort of your room. He could take his time and make up for all of the teasing. Suguru wanted you begging for him before the night was over. Only this time is going to be a bit different. The girls were staying with Tsumiki at Gojo’s house for a sleepover. Meaning the two of you had the whole apartment for yourselves.

So when Geto reached your ankle, he was about to pull away to go about changing and relaxing with you on the couch. Before he had a chance to move, you reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down to his knees on the ground before you. Your boyfriend blinked, eyeing you skeptically, waiting to hear what you had to say.

“You missed a spot.” Suguru watched as you spread your legs wide open for him, giving him a wonderful view of your slick, wet pussy. “Right—“ He choked on his saliva as you reached down, using your fingers to spread open your lips, revealing your entrance to him that throbbed with need. “Here.”

Suguru had no idea it was possible for words to go straight to his cock, below, and behold, here he was. His dick was hard enough, just teasing. From feeling your legs tremble underneath his lips to hearing the soft little sound from the back of your throat. For you spread yourself like that on full display made his dick hurt so hard it fucking hurt.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe for him to tease you a little more or to tell you to wait. You would excitedly tell him that you two had the apartment to yourselves and that there was no risk of anyone interrupting you. Suguru never gave you the chance to say any of those thoughts. After his brain had a second to process what you were showing him, the man sat back on his heels and took his half-up bun down. As soon as those dark strands of hair were free, Suguru collected all his long, luscious, shiny hair in one hand and tied it into a messy bun.

You gawked at the man in front of you, opening and closing your mouth before Suguru grabbed your hips with both his hands and yanked you to the edge of the couch. You inhaled sharply as you fell back, lifting your head just in time to watch as your boyfriend shoved his face between your thighs, tongue dipping inside of your twitching cum. He wasted no time and went straight to work., tongue, laughing at your click before slowly sliding down your slit to your entrance, where he teased your twitching hole with the tip of his tongue before slowly sliding it back up, swirling circles around your clit.

“Nngh! H-holy fuck!”

“Mmm~ how careless of me.” Suguru breathed out heavily against your swollen, sensitive clit. “How could I forget to kiss this better~?”

“S-Sugu!” Your back arched off the couch as his tongue kitten licked your clit. “Oh-Oooh fuck!”

The feeling of his tongue sliding inside of you had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You inhaled with a sharp gasp, your hand reaching down and digging into the dark strands of hair mostly tied into a top knot on his head. He growled into your sex, his tongue brushing over your click as he increased the pressure of his hold on your hips, drawing you closer to his mouth, which was seemingly impossible from how close you were to him. But if there was a will, there was a way.

Even if that way involved you grinding your hips over your boyfriend’s face, something he gladly encouraged. If you were to stop jerking your hips forward, you were sure you would continue to do so because of the way your boyfriend’s arms moved, rolling you and time with your thrusts; you knew this was what he wanted. To eat you out like a wild animal, to lose himself entirely in your juices, the scent of you, the sweet, tangy taste that coated his tongue.

Suguru moaned, his eyes growing darker with every stroke of his tongue over your walls. Those same dark eyes were transfixed with your face; his ears focused on you, everything you said, how you begged him to swirl his tongue, or how you wanted him to lap eagerly at your g-spot. If that were something you wanted, it would be something he would gladly give.

“Mmm!” He snarled against your sensitive Clint as he ground your hips harder against his face. His eyes never left yours as he tasted you in the most intimate way he could.

Seeing him so desperate, so hungry for you, had you losing all of your control. You pulled and tongue out his hair as hard as you could, ride his tongue like your own personal fuck toy. Suguru, he loved it. Seeing you lose control over yourself, over every ounce of power that you usually held onto, had him reaching down, pulling his cock out so he could stroke it in time with his tongue while his thumb idly rubbed circles and hearts over your clit.

“C-Cummin’ Sugu! I-I’m cummin’ oooh fuck!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as your juices squirted out, coating his lips, chin, and face with your release. You were so lost in your orgasm. You barely noticed the granted pleasure that emanated from between your thighs. That sound was a sound you were very accustomed to; it was the sound of your boyfriend cumming all over his hand.

“Mmm, fuck.” Suguru grunted against your pussy before he pressed a gentle kiss against it. “You taste so good.”

“Mm.” You whispered, slowly sitting up, ignoring the dizzy spell that followed your movements after the strength of your orgasm.

“You taste so good, Princess~” You hummed against, slowly sliding off the couch to straddle your boyfriend’s hips, his softening cock gently twitching back to life. “Hey~? What do you think you’re doing?”

“Saying thank you.”

Suguru learned back, slowly smirking as he eyed you. “Oh~? And just how do you plan on that king me?” He pursed his lips together watching you closely.

“The girls aren't going to be home this weekend, so I think I’m going to ride you all night.”

Suguru slowly blinked jaw falling open. “Wait what?” a sinister little smile graced your lips as you began slowly rocking your hips again at him.

“I'm going to make sure to thoroughly thank you~ for taking such good care of me.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

[luveline]

Helllloooo :) if at all possible, could I request a fic for when stripper!reader realizes that Spencer actually like-likes her? Maybe he finally makes a real move or plans a “fancy” date to show her how much she means to him? She definitely wouldn’t believe him at first/think she deserves it, but if it could be a happy ending, I’d appreciate it so much. 🥺🥺

🐈‍⬛ thank youuuu

ty for requesting <3 fem

He smells like coffee. 

"Hi!" you say, bending under the weight of his hug. 

"What are you," —he drags his face against your cheek— "doing here, I thought you were," —his hand cups your neck as he pulls away— "going to Moira's for the weekend?" 

"You sound so happy," you say, nonplussed. 

"Yeah I'm happy. Do you wanna stay over? We can go to the movies, or we can get takeout, we can do both." Spencer beams at you. "Sorry, I'm– I'm rushing. I'm just happy. Is everything okay? What happened to house sitting?" 

"Oh, nothing, she missed her flight," you say. "Can I come in?" 

Spencer ushers you inside. His apartment is cleaner than usual. He's actually had time to clean, it seems, the faint scent of disinfectant alive in the kitchen and fresh laundry folded on the table behind the couch. He follows your eyes. "I did the stuff you left, last time. But I ended up with like, three pairs of your socks? How did that happen?" 

"You didn't have to." 

"Why wouldn't I?" He goes to walk off but stops, twisting around to give you another hug from the side. "Tea?" 

Your face feels hot. "Yes, please." 

Spencer takes to the kitchen to make tea, one of your shared routines. He grabs the kettle from the cabinet, two mugs, and two teabags. You don't know why you stay in the living room as he fills the kettle. He's putting it on the stove when he says, "Oh, hey, I got you, uh– you liked my soap, right? The chamomile? So I got you some. It's in my room, and I got you some of your chocolates from Leaven." 

"You did?" 

You fail to hide your excitement. Spencer waves you away without looking. "They're with the soap."  

You laugh to yourself, leaning down to pull your sneakers off of your heels. You leave them by the couch and slip over the hardwood into his room, where your promised soap and chocolate sit on one of his desks. He calls them your chocolates, but you only ever tried them because he saw you looking at them one time and bought them as a surprise. You've been hooked on them ever since. 

You're thinking about what joke you can make to hear him laugh. Something on the nose about him ruining your future career aspirations or a flirty nothing, maybe. You just want me to fall out of shape so I can't work. 

The suitcase on the bed distracts you. Open, half packed. 

"Are you going somewhere?" you ask him, chocolates and soap held loosely to your stomach. 

Spencer takes the kettle off of the heat, bringing it to the two mugs to top them one at a time. "What?" 

"Your suitcase?" 

His shoulders tighten just so. "Well, there's this convention happening but I hate driving in the dark, so I figured I'd stay up there." 

"When, tonight?" 

"Yeah." He picks up the mugs and shoots you a smile. "But obviously I'm not going now." 

Obviously? Spencer rounds the side of the couch to sit down, murmuring for you to come and sit with him. You follow his order without question, setting yourself on the couch cushion beside him, and find there's little resistance in you to leave space between your thighs. He leans into you as soon as he's able and hands you your mug. 

There's something in his eyes. A warmth. A real affection. "I'd definitely rather be with you here than without you there. Even if there's a guest speaker who's actually managed to split shared arteries between conjoined twins while they're still in the womb." 

"You're interested in that stuff?" 

"Just for fun." He doesn't drink his tea. He probably didn't want any, a coffee mug already on the table, but he always makes two cups. You think it might be so you don't feel like you're an imposition. He's that special brand of thoughtful. 

"Can I ask you something?" you ask, your heartbeat a tangible thump under your skin. It's a silly question guided by a stupid thought, but you have to ask. You've always wanted to see other people's hands, so to speak, uncomfortable with the unknown. 

"Anything." 

You've exposed the most private parts of you and still it's hard to be vulnerable. It's easier knowing you're with Spencer, but not easy. "Do you like me?" 

Spencer doesn't do either of you the disservice of pretending he doesn't know what you mean. His voice is measured but shyness creeps in, an almost questioning lilt to his words as he says, "Well, yeah. I thought you already knew that." 

"I thought you… appreciated the aesthetic of me." 

"I do." He looks at your forehead rather than your eyes. "You know you're pretty, and your dancing, it's– it's pretty too. I think you're beautiful, but that's really not the only thing about you. You've been remarkably easy to fall for." 

His cheeks are suddenly red. A blotchy staining under his cheekbones and up over the bridge of his nose. He wouldn't lie, but the blush cements that he's telling the truth. Spencer really, truly likes you, enough to buy you the gifts that sit in your lap and to cancel trips. He'd rather stay home with you and drink tea on the couch than be anywhere else. 

"Spence, if you think it was easy for you, you have no idea what it's been like for me," you say quietly. That draws his eyeline back to your face. You smile at him gently. "No idea." 

He puts his mug down on the table to hug you. "Careful of your tea," he says, his smile audible.

You hug his arm to your chest with one hand. When he kisses the side of your head, you're pleasantly shocked. 

"I didn't realise," you say. "Sorry, Spence, I never–" Never thought you'd like me like that. "I didn't know." 

"I was just waiting for you to catch up." 

[ireneispunk]

Just a Taste

Moder AU Aemond Targaryen x female coworker reader smut (requested)

request: 'Hi Irene! Can I request a lovely smutty modern aemond x reader where they're friends but not quite. Reader thinks aemond is annoying and aemond thinks reader is cute so he teases her a lot. They're at a work party and Aemond gets annoyed when others tease and flirt with her so he drags reader off to another room and marks her as his. Thank you thank you!'

w.c: 3278

c.w: SMUT 18+, frustration to lovers (??), oral f receiving, unprotected p in v sex, aemond and reader work together in modern au, me not knowing how grown up office jobs work :)

a.n: thank you so much for the request! sorry it too me so long but i hope you love it!

i'm starting an aemond and jacaerys perma taglist cus of my inconsistent positng teehee, let me know if / which you wish to be on!

You groaned taking a look at the time on your monitor, it was somehow only halfway through the day. You typed away endlessly, watching as the minute ticked to 1pm. You exhaled, before making your way to the break room, greeting the few other members of staff in there. You heard the shuffling as some people made their way in or out, clicking on the kettle for your tea. You felt a presence behind you, and you already knew who it was before looking. “What do you want Aemond? Just to admire the view?” You spoke, throwing a teabag in your mug. He scoffed lightly, stepping to the side of you and leaning his palm against the counter.

“I came to offer my condolences,” you turned your head to face him and raised your eyebrows. His light hair tied back in its signature bun, shirt sleeves half rolled up. “I heard Robberts accepted my proposal over yours.” He spoke so smugly, begging for a reaction out of you. You turned to the fridge, pulling out the milk and rolling your eyes once he couldn’t see you.

“Yeah, I did hear about that unfortunate slip in his judgement.” Your fingers tapped upon the countertop, waiting for the hot water. “Though I do recall it was my last four? Was it? That beat out yours.”  A small chuckle left his lips as his arms folded across his front.

“I do love when you bare your teeth and indulge me.” He said lowly only addressing you.

You puffed out a sigh, turning to put the milk away. “If you spent half as much time on your research as you did being insufferable maybe you’d have a better shot.”

“You wound me.” He dramatically placed his hand over his heart.

“Mmm, that’s the idea.” You spoke almost absent mindedly, opening the cupbpard above you to find the sugar jar empty. You let out a frustrated groan, tilted your head back and closing your eyes.

“Are these something you’d want?” You turned to face Aemond, his large hands holding out small sugar packets. Your eyes went wide, noticing it was the good brand too.

“Where did you get those!” You exclaimed, a smile reaching your lips.

“Linda’s desk.” He replied, smirk across his face. Yours dropped slightly. Linda.

“Linda from accounting?” You groaned remembering the time you used the unassigned parking spot she claimed was hers. “I think she might actually spill blood if she notices them gone.” He laughed and as you reached for the packets he pulled his hand back, you furrowed your brows and looked up at him before trying to grab them from him again. He lifted them up above his head, the movement untucked the front of his shirt slightly. You couldn’t even fight the immediate urge to look at the exposed skin, his toned stomach and light happy trail brought a warmth to your face. You tore your eyes away returning them to Aemond’s, he eyed you with a small smirk playing at his lips.

“Give me the sugar Aemond.” You tried to speak in a stern manner but found it hard to considering the heat across your cheeks. He tilted his head to the side slightly, looking expectantly. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms leaving your palm open. “Please?” You questioned. He smiled widely place the packets in your palm, his fingers grazing over yours ever so slightly. He made his way out of the breakroom as you tried to simmer your racing heart. You watched as he paused for a moment, turning back around to you and resting his palm upon the door frame.

“See you Saturday.” He said with a smirk. You shot him a puzzled look, before realisation washed over you.

You grimaced lightly, “Wouldn’t miss it.” You said flatly. He poked his tongue into his cheek in amusement before disappearing off behind the wall.

You cursed under your breath as you made it back to your desk. A hand slamming down on your desk made you jump and look up. Your office friend stood above you looking expectantly. “A little birdy told me you haven’t made some boring excuse to miss the party tomorrow!” Her excitement reverberated through your cubicle. You shot her a ‘keep it down’ glare as she threw her hands up and squatted next to where you sat.

“I forgot to orchestrate a family emergency, but there’s still time break a bone.” You took a sip of your drink. She huffed, pushing your arm lightly.

“The financial year ends on the same day every year… I think you just wanted the excuse to see Aemond again.” She giggled watching your eyes go wide.

“Absolutely not! He is the bane of my existence, I’m pretty sure he is punishment for whatever I did in a past life.” You couldn’t lie to yourself though, ever since Aemond joined your firm it had made things more entertaining at some points, if not a whole lot more frustrating too.

She raised her brows, peering over the top of your desk slightly to ensure the coast was clear. “The punishment could be a little less delicious don’t you think?” You scoffed, trying to become absorbed in your work. She rose to her feet and was a few feet away from your desk before turning back to exclaim, “Ooh! Wear something sexy!”, Your jaw hung open, but no words fell out. Your colleague beside you raised a brow at you as you face flushed.

It felt as if hours had passed as you sat upon your bedroom floor upon a mess of clothes. You watched as the clock ticked, you were technically already running late to the “it’s not mandatory but we’d love each and every one of you to show up and celebrate with us!” party. Your head looked between two dresses laid out in front of you, one black and the other in your favourite colour. The black was the obligatory ‘there but unused funeral dress’ you had, the other verged on being the perfect dress. You put it on one last time and looked in the mirror, it was tighter than what you were used to, short but not so short you had to worry, and the colour complimented your complexion perfectly. You felt beautiful in this dress and glanced back at the black one once more deciding whether to play it safe. You phone chimed upon your bed, and you opened the message from your friend.

It was a mirror selfie in the bathroom with a drink in hand. ‘Don’t pussy out.’ The message read. You rolled your eyes before another message chimed through, ‘ps. bar has free drinks’. You laughed lightly before sliding your heels on and grabbing your jacket. You replied back with a short ‘on the way’ before climbing into your taxi.

You arrived at your office building, the height seeming daunting all of a sudden. You passed a few faces you knew, smoking besides the entrance, and exchanged a few hellos. Your shoes clicked across the marble floors as you made your way to the lift. A nervousness bubbled within you as it went past the floor you worked on up to one of the top floors that served as a function room. The doors opened and to your relief, revealed a bustling party. You stepped out paused at the top of the small set of stairs that led down to the main floor and eyed the room. You vaguely remembered the layout from your first week and tour of the building, but you had never seen it in action, and you couldn’t deny it looked good. The one empty bar was replaced with two mixologists pouring various liquids, the lights were dimmed, with lamps and string lights casting a warm glow upon the room. The music was loud enough to engulf the room but did not deafen you. You fiddled with your sleeve for a moment, scanning the room for your friend, before pulling your jacket from your shoulders and leaving it with the others. Your fingers grazed against the cool metal banister as you stepped down the stairs. Your heart pounded in your chest, feeling it click with every step of your heel. Maybe it was your late arrival, your dressed up look, the lull in music as it changed tracks, or a combination of the three but you caught the attention of a few pairs of eyes on the floor beneath you. Your eyes looked towards the floor before a loud voice calling out to you made you jump. You looked up to see your friend with a wide grin across her face waving out to you, her exclamation had attracted the attention of a few of your coworkers as they glanced between the two of you. You quickly stepped down the rest of the stairs to meet her and shushed her, linking your arms. You both made your way over to the seating at the bar as she rambled incessantly about all the unmissable things you had missed.

You pushed yourself up onto the barstool and smiled at the bartender as your drink of choice was slid towards you. You watched as your friend laughed through her stories before quickly exclaiming she needed to use the restroom again. You smiled to yourself, you were glad she was here or else you’d find it harder to be comfortable. Just as quickly as she left, another presence joined you. You looked up, seeing Aemond leaning with his back against the bar. His eyes shamelessly scanned your body, appreciating the parts he had never seen before, and admiring how your dress fit you. His eyes met yours, his signature smirk plastered across his lips. “Can I buy you a drink?” he questioned.

“It’s an open bar?” You retorted; brows furrowed.

“Then I can buy you two.” You laughed at his ridiculousness but nodded your head. Aemond smiled to himself, he earnt a genuine laugh from you, and it was the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. You took a moment to take in his appearance, a dark shirt covering his chest with the top button undone, his long silver hair cascading over his shoulders instead of thrown into a bun. A faint blush painted your cheeks as he caught your eyes on him, yet he did not taunt you as he usually would. The conversation flowed between you, about work, shows, both of your overly competitive sides showing at times. Your head threw back in laughter at one of his remarks, your hand gripping his forearm as you laughed. As soon as you noticed you removed it and placed it back around your drink. Aemond watched you intently. You never wanted to give anything away, never reveal that you wanted him too, yet your body betrayed you.

Your time was interrupted as one of your colleagues joined you on your other side. He addressed you directly, then nodded his head towards Aemond who merely rose a brow. “Hi Alex.” Your response was blunt, this was the first time he’d spoken to you in months. Unlike Aemond, you felt disgusting under his gaze, his eyes never met yours, opting to settle on your breasts even as you spoke.

“Is there something you need?” Aemond spoke, a hint of annoyance in his voice. You looked towards him, fingers digging into the edge of the bar.

“Oh, yeah. Big boss wants you. Something about the appraisal on your report.” Alex grinned, he seemed happy to watch Aemond curse under his breath and walk across the room towards your boss. You smiled flatly taking a large sip of your drink. He continued to talk at you, not realising your disinterest from your ‘oh really’, ‘wow’, and ‘cool’ roster of responses. It felt as if hours passed but in reality, it had only been a few minutes. Never so badly had you wanted Aemond glued to your hip.

Aemond stood talking to his boss, trying to hurry the conversation along so he could return to your side. Every time he looked back to the bar, anger bubbled from within him. “So by next Monday?” Snapped him from burning holes into your back.

“Yes, Monday.” He answered immediately catching a few people off guard. His boss thanked him and Aemond shook a few hands before making his way back to you. His fists clenched beside him as he weaved through the huddles of people. He knew you didn’t care for Alex. He listened to your laugh; he knew it was your fake laugh because he had made you laugh properly all evening.

You jumped slightly at the sudden feeling of a hand upon your shoulder. You looked up to see Aemond with a look on his face you had never seen before, pure anger. His fingers burned into your flesh. “I need to borrow you for a moment.” He didn’t allow you to respond before he had pulled you by your hand from the bar stool and back towards the stairs. You struggled to keep up with his long strides in your heels as you called his name. He pushed open a door to a room you had never been in before to reveal a dark desolate meeting room. He swiftly shut the door and clicked the lock on it, turning to face you.

“Aemond what-“ He cut you off with a kiss, his hands reaching the sides of your face. As you registered what was happening your pressed both hands against his chest and pushed him away. You watched his face, your chest rising and falling at a quick pace. You felt hunger take over your body and stepped back towards him. “Kiss me again.” You whispered. Moments as the words left your lips his hand returned to your cheek and his lips brushed yours before kissing you deeply. His lips fit against yours in a perfectly satisfying way. His body pressed against yours, pushing you until the backs of your thighs hit the cool table. He pulled his lips from yours as they found your neck, tongue running across the softness beneath your ear. You let out a gasp as his teeth grazed across your throat, biting slightly and kissing every mark he left.

“Sit for me.” He spoke between kisses. Aemond’s tone spread a heat in your lower stomach. The sound of champagne popping snapped you out of your haze, eyes shooting towards the door.

“But what if someone knows.” You whispered. You bit your lip, as Aemond’s fingers brushed the hem of your dress and against your thighs.

His lips left your neck as he looked you in the eye. With nothing but the moonlight glowing up the room, he looked angelic, with a devilish smirk upon his lips. “The music is loud enough. Sit.”

You nodded, sitting upon the table, the cool lacquered wood hitting your thighs. He placed one more kiss upon your lips before sinking to his knees in front of you. He pushed your knees apart, settling between your thighs. Chills ran over your body as he peppered kissed from your knee to your upper thigh. You watched him, nervous look on your face. His hand reached your lower stomach and pushed against it slightly, “Lay down, you’ll enjoy it more.” He mumbled against your thigh. You swallowed, laying back against the table and trying to ignore the thudding in your chest. His fingers hiked the edge of your dress around your hips, a small groan escaping his lips at the sight of your clothed pussy. He placed kisses at your inner thighs before placing an open-mouthed kiss over your clit. You felt a jolt travel through your body as he slid your panties to the side. He hummed, his middle fingers grazed upon your pussy before delving inside, slowly bottoming out within you over and over. A gasp escaped your lips as you felt Aemond’s tongue latch upon your clit, circling it softly. You propped yourself up on your elbow, you free hand making its way into Aemond’s silver hair. Your fingers gripped the strands, pulling him closer to you. His tongue responded by picking up the pace as he angled his fingers upwards, grazing that sweet spot inside of you. Your stomach tightened as Aemond raced you towards your peak. You looked down between your legs to meet his gaze already watching you, causing your orgasm to wash over you. It took all of your strength to not clamp your thighs shut, letting him coax a final few moans from your lips.

You watched as he rose to his feet, towering over your body splayed out upon the table. You sat up, hand snaking around his neck to pull him back into a kiss, much hungrier than before. Your hands ran down his chest, the softness of his shirt hiding the strength of his chest. Your fingertips untucked the shirt from his trousers before you felt Aemond’s hand across your cheek, his thumb resting upon your chin. Pulling back from the kiss, you watched as he undid the buckle on his belt, pulling it from his waist in a way that made your cheeks flare. It clanked to the ground, as he pulled his trousers down enough to expose his cock, your jaw going slack at the sight of it. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips found yours as he lined himself up with your pussy. You jolted slightly as he inserted himself, a loud moan leaving your lips as he filled you up. His thrusts started slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size before you brought your legs up and wrapped them around his waist. His forehead rested against yours, as he hissed slightly at the new angle. Aemond’s pace quickened as your relaxed into his arms, moans leaving your lips that delicately grazed against his.

Your nails dug into the top of his back, eyes screwing shut as a flurry of praises escaped your lips. Aemond groaned, pulling you impossibly close, your breasts pressing against his chest and his head finding the crook of your neck to torment again. You dropped your head to the other side, allowing him to explore your neck as he fucked you. As another orgasm approached you, your fingers found his hair once again, pulling lightly as pleasure took over your body. Your legs crossed behind him as his thrusts repeatedly edged you closer. A final scream of his name and your pussy tightening in pleasure caused him to curse and bury his hips deep into you, filling you with his seed. His breathing was raggedy as his head rested upon your shoulder, lazily kissing it.

You adjusted your dress, eyeing your dishevelled reflection in the reflection of the window. A familiar pair of hands met your waist, sliding around to your front. You sighed as his chin rested upon your shoulder, turning your head to face him. You admired the way the moon illuminated his light hair, the faded scar that ran down his cheek framing his beauty. “I can’t think of anything worse than going back out to that party.” You hummed, placing your hands over his.

Aemond laughed lightly, turning you to face him and weaving his fingers between yours. “What if we didn’t?” He questioned, his usual smirk finding its way back to his face. You hummed inquisitively. “There’s no party at my place.” He shrugged lightly. You thought for a moment, before grinning and pulling him by his arm, a genuine smile of adoration planted firmly upon his face as you did.

[nameless-jamie]

I love the PA series!! So so good! The dynamic between them <3 if you ever write more of them, I’d love to see your take on a role reversal type of situation where Jamie has to help his PA (maybe she’s having a bad day or something like that).

Thank you for all your writing <3 and hope your week is going okay!

Tissues and Tea

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, flirting

A/N: Hello! Thank you for this great request. I hope you like what I made out of it. I'm doing fine, I hope you have a great rest of the week and enjoy your reading. <3

Y/N should’ve stayed home. She knows that.

But the thought of leaving Jamie Tartt to his own devices for a full day? Unsupervised? With a match coming up and at least three emails that need responses before noon? Absolutely not.

So here she is, standing outside his house, sniffling, a little wobbly on her feet, but determined. Her usual pencil skirt and blouse combo were exchanged for some jeans and a loose hoodie. She rings the doorbell and barely has time to brace herself before Jamie swings the door open, wearing—of course—nothing but gray sweatpants and a cocky grin.

"Ew, you look like death."

"Good morning to you too," she grumbles, brushing past him into the warmth of his house.

Jamie shuts the door behind her, frowning. "Nah, for real. Why d’you sound like a ninety-year-old chain-smoker?"

She ignores him, heading straight to the kitchen counter where she usually sets up her laptop. "I’m fine. Just a little cold."

Jamie narrows his eyes, watching as she unpacks her work things with shaky hands. "Right," he drawls. "And I’m fuckin’ Cristiano Ronaldo."

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her head was throbbing and she could not take any banter today. "Jamie, I’m fine."

"You’re not fine," he counters, stepping closer. "You look like you’re gonna pass out. Actually—" He pokes her arm and she loses her balance a little. "—yeah, that’s definitely wobbly behavior, love."

She swats his hand away. "I just need to get through the day, then I’ll rest."

Jamie scoffs. "Yeah, not happening." Before she can argue, he grabs her laptop and walks off with it.

"Jamie—what the hell?!" she croaks, chasing after him.

"Oi, don’t strain yourself," he teases, holding it above his head like a schoolboy dodging a playground fight. "You’re sick. Ya need to rest. And lucky for you, I’m a proper gentleman, so I’m gonna look after ya today. Call me your personal assistant."

She blinks. "You? Taking care of me?"

Jamie gasps, mock-offended. "What, ya don’t trust me?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Rude," he mutters, placing her laptop high up on a shelf, far out of her reach. He puts his hands on her shoulders and shoves her towards the living room "Now, let’s get ya on the couch, yeah?"

She knows she should fight this, but honestly? Standing for this long is exhausting. And Jamie's 50.000-pound-couch looked comfy ass hell. So, reluctantly, she lets him guide her to the couch, where he throws a ridiculously big fluffy blanket over her.

"There," he says, hands on his hips. "All cozy. Like a little babeh."

"I can’t move," she deadpans, buried under the weight of the blanket.

"Exactly." he pulls the finger-guns at her.

She glares at him, but Jamie just grins.

A beat of silence, then—

"Want some tea?"

She exhales. "That would be nice, actually."

Jamie beams, disappearing into the kitchen. A minute later, she hears cabinets slamming, the sink running, and Jamie muttering "fuckin’ hell, where’s the sugar?" under his breath.

"It's in the second cupboard on the left," Y/N shouted as loud as her croaky voice let her.

"Got it!"

When he returns, he hands her a mug with the smuggest expression. "There ya go, love. My specialty."

She takes a sip—and immediately grimaces. "Jamie."

"What?"

"This is just hot sugar water."

He frowns. "Nah, it’s tea."

"The teabag is what makes it tea..." she narrows his eyes at him. "Let me guess, you don't know where the teabags are?"

"I could put some leaves from my kitchen plant in there. Same thing, innit?" he scratches his neck embarrassed.

She sighs, setting it down. "You’re lucky I’m too weak to fight you right now."

Jamie plops down next to her, looking way too pleased with himself. "You are lucky, actually. Not everyone gets personal Jamie Tartt care."

She gives him a tired, but teasing look. "Oh, so this is an exclusive service? Where do I complain? Is there like a hotline or..."

"Hey don't get sassy with me, you booked the VIP package. Special treatment. No refunds." He smirks, then leans in a little. "Want me to tuck ya in?"

"Jamie."

"I’ll do it proper, promise. Maybe even sing ya a lullaby."

"Jamie."

His smirk widens. "Or, if ya prefer, I could be your personal hot water bottle. Y’know, for extra warmth."

"Jamie."

"What? No cuddlin' ?"

She rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch—because despite everything, he is making her feel better.

He watches her for a moment, his teasing expression softening just a little. Then, without thinking, he reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Y’know," he says quietly, thumb brushing against her temple, "you spend so much time lookin’ after me. Someone’s gotta return the favor, yeah?"

Her breath catches.

It’s the kind of moment she’s always tried to ignore—the kind where Jamie isn’t just the flirty, cocky footballer she works for, but something more. Someone who cares about her. Someone who, if she let herself believe it, might actually love her.

But she’s too tired to overthink it today.

So instead of pushing him away, she just leans into his already open arms, lets herself relax under the ridiculous blanket, and mutters, "Fine. But if you try to feed me soup, I’m leaving."

Jamie grins. "Nah, love. I’m terrible at soup."

And with that, he settles in beside her, her head on his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Y/n's silent snores fill the room and Jamie sighs satisfied. Yep, he's refusing to move from this position—ever again.

[suugarbabe]

[Chapter 7]

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: SMUT, dom!reader, sub!mattheo, male!masterbation, 18+ content below the cut, MDNI!!

Warmth. That’s what you felt pressed against your back and across your middle as you slowly started to blink your eyes awake. You were confused at first, thinking maybe you were dreaming the sensations that you felt, but looking down at your waist and seeing the tattooed hand that was splayed across your stomach confirmed: Mattheo had stayed through the night. You stretched your arms out in front of you, stretching out your muscles from sleep and the other previous nights activity.

Mattheo must have thought you were trying to get up from the action, his arm that was wrapped around you instinctively pulling you closer to his chest. His face burrowed into your neck, breath fanning against your skin as his breathing stayed even. You allowed him to embrace you a little longer, getting lost in your thoughts, thinking about what everything in the last 12 hours meant. Were you and Mattheo together now, like officially together? Would he tell the others? Were you even allowed to talk about it? You tried your best to fall back asleep, if only until Mattheo woke up, but your mind wasn’t slowing down.

Reluctantly peeling his arm from you slowly, you slipped from the bed, putting on your slippers and heading down to the kitchen. You knew Gimball would make your morning tea for you if you asked, he often makes it for you before you even wake up, but he must have known not to do that this morning. You also didn’t have a house elf at your old place, and you liked the routine of doing some things for yourself still.

As if he expected the change in routine, you walked into the kitchen to see Gimball working on breakfast, but your favorite mug and tea bag sitting on the counter while a kettle was on the stove. “How did you know I’d be down here, Gimball?” You questioned the small elf playfully. Without ceasing his movements he replied to your question, “Gimball knows many things Miss Birdie, especially that Master Mattheo does not like to be disturbed in the mornings.” You smiled at this, cheeks tinting the slight pink at the realization that Gimball knew Mattheo was in your room. Ripping open the teabag and placing it in your mug, you tied the string to the handle before walking over to the whistling kettle.

“You’ve known Mattheo a long time, hmm?” You asked it as if you hadn’t seen into Mattheo’s memories, wanting to see what the elf might say. With a snap of his fingers an array of plates and kitchenware appeared on the large center island, “Gimball has been with the Riddle family for three generations, he remembers Master Mattheo’s birth, taught him his schooling. Master Mattheo is a good man, good man Miss Birdie.” You hummed in acknowledgement, smiling as you poured the hot water into your mug, “Was he good in school?”

You were just fishing for any knowledge about him now, anything you knew he probably wouldn’t tell you, at least not right now. Gimball nodded as he set up all the breakfast food and teas for everyone, “Oh yes, Master Mattheo is very smart, very smart indeed. Very observant, but I’m sure Miss Birdie has already come to knowledge of that.” You huffed out a laugh, nodding your head, “Oh yeah, almost too observant for his own good if you ask me.” Gimball let himself smile at your statement, something you didn’t see him do often. With another snap of his fingers, the food arrangement disappeared from the center island. You knew it was now on the large dinning room table, awaiting everyone in the house as they individually made their way down.

Gimball looked at you again, “Master cares very deeply about Miss Birdie.” You nodded your head, “I know Gimball, he really looks at us like a family. It’s a nice feeling.” Gimball shook his head, waving his small finger in the air, “No, Miss Birdie misunderstands Gimball. His care for her is different than the others. Master Mattheo is not always good with his words. Sometimes he cannot express how he feels properly. Master was not allowed to say his feelings when he was little.”

You opened your mouth to ask him to explain further, to tell you what he meant by his last few statements but the opening of the kitchen door caught your attention. You turned at the intrusion, only to see Mattheo standing in the doorway, now completely clothed for the day in a pair of black slacks and a white button up rolled to the elbows, displaying the veins and tattoos that decorated his forearms. You were clearly gawking and if Mattheo noticed (which he probably did) he was polite this morning and chose not to acknowledge the fact.

“What’re you doing in here?” was his question instead. You turned back around, only to see Gimball had apparated away. Turning back to Mattheo you held your mug up to your lips, taking a small sip, “Tea.” He quirked an eyebrow, “You know Gimball would’ve made that for you.” You nodded, “I know, but I like to do it myself sometimes.” Mattheo held the door open for you to exit, following close behind you as you did so. “You left me this morning, woke up to an empty bed and pillows that smelled like you,” he whispered in your ear, giving your hip a light squeeze. You smirked at this, not being able to help your quip back, “Mmm, what a bummer of a feeling. Thankfully I was still in the house and you didn’t wake up like that only to find me gone for days on end.”

Mattheo’s eyebrows shot up, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek as he suppressed a smirk. “We’ve got an attitude this morning I see,” he spoke as he sat down next to you at the table. You shook your head, “I would never get an attitude with you, Mattheo.” He huffed out a small laugh then, pilling food onto his plate and choosing not to respond. Soon the others started to trail in, thankfully most of them still in their sleepwear making you not feel like the only one.

Once finished with breakfast Mattheo placed a small kiss on your temple, stating he needed to go to the club early to take care of a few things before the night started. He took Pansy and Draco with him, leaving you at the table with Blaise, Theo and Enzo. The three wore devious smirks, Enzo’s eyes down at his plate avoiding yours. Theo, however, had no shame, pointing his fork at you while he talked, “So, sorella, have a good night?” You glared at him, “Fine, thanks.” Theo gave you a knowing look, “Enjoy it with anyone else?”

This question caused Enzo to choke slightly on his sip of orange juice, the other two men not holding back their laughter. “Serves your right, Enzo,” you stated harshly. The lanky man held up his arms, “Hey, I never said anything!” You rolled your eyes, “But you were smirking like you thought you knew something and obviously agree with Teddy.” Blaise tapped his fork on his glass, grabbing everyone’s attention, “Alright alright, lets stop teasing the poor girl. If anything did happen, which were not saying it did,-”

“or didn’t!” Theo pointed out. Blaise nodded, “Or didn’t,” you rolled your eyes, “can we all just agree that tonight is going to be interesting as hell. Well for us,” he gestured between himself and Theo and Enzo, “maybe not for you, Birdie.” You furrowed your brows in confusion, not understanding the implications of his statement. “Why is tonight going to be interesting for everyone but me, Blaise? What’s happening?” Theo couldn’t stop himself from laughing, clutching his stomach and rearing back in his seat. Enzo gave you a sad smile, “Because there’s a new dancer coming tonight. The one you covered for quit and Pansy said the new one is coming for her first shift this evening.”

You shrugged your shoulders, stuffing another piece of fruit in your mouth, “Okay, so? I don’t care about that. I only danced that one time because Mattheo said I couldn’t. I like bartending with you Enzo. Why would a new dancer make me upset?” Theo leaned both elbows on the table, clasping his hands in front of him as his tilted his head to the side, “Because this girl is proper fit, like, thank you fucking Salazar fit.” You rolled your eyes, “Again…so? All the dancers are fit, Teddy. You’re just a horndog.” Blaise jumped in, “Mattheo used to have a reputation…with dancers.” You stiffened slightly, but waved your hand telling him to continue, “It’s stopped since you came around, for some reason,” he raised his eyebrows slightly, “Everyone’s just curious to see how it will go.”

You placed your fork on your place, dabbing your lips with the napkin from your lap before standing, “Mattheo’s a big boy. I don’t control him, he can do what he wants. Like I said, there’s nothing going on between us, I’m just like the rest of you guys to him.” Theo snorted at this, while Enzo groaned. Blaise just shrugged his shoulders, “Whatever you say, Birdie. Just know if you feel like fighting, I’m on your side.” You couldn’t help but laugh at everyone’s dramatic reactions, “Thank you, Blaise, but I’m sure that wont be necessary. Everything’s going to be fine.”

And it appeared so for the first few hours you were at the club. You and Enzo worked together restocking the bar while Blaise and Theo sat on the stools, going over plans for different ‘business trips’ and other ordeals. You didn’t push it, but did try to sneak a glance or two at what they were working on. You had grown apparently too close to Theo those few days because he immediately caught you. Giving you a playful scolding for even trying.

Nothing seemed a bother until you went to put up two new bottles of rum and nearly slammed into the side of Enzo. “What are you-” you went to question but Enzo’s large hand palmed the top of your head like a basketball and turned it until your line of vision was the same as his. Immediately you felt like your body was on fire with rage.

Across the club Pansy was standing with Mattheo and a brunette woman. She was wearing what you would barely consider clothing in a skirt so short it was practically knickers and a top that was so small you figured there had to be a spell put on it for her breasts not to be spilling out. But that wasn’t even the bother as most of the dancers dressed in similar attire. What was bothering you was the way Mattheo was interacting with her.

It wasn’t like he was coming on to her, but it wasn’t like he was being her boss either. Though it was very apparent that she was coming on to him. Touching his arm, twirling her hair between her fingers, biting her lip. And Mattheo wasn’t helping, leaning slightly in to her touch, giving her a devilish grin. “What a fucking slag,” the words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them and Blaise nearly choked on his drink.

“Mattheo or Trixie?” Theo asked, knowing that using the girls name would probably instill more rage in you. Your eyebrows shot up, a scoff leaving your lips. Enzo groaned, “Oh c’mon, Nott. Don’t rile her up more.” You opened your mouth to respond but it only dropped further in shock when you saw Mattheo tuck a stray hair behind Trixie’s ear. The three boys followed your gaze, all beginning to mumble amongst themselves about how everything was going to play out.

Jealousy is a sexy look on you, Princess, Mattheo’s voice rang between your ears as your eyes snapped to meet his. The fucker had the audacity to smirk at you before giving his attention back to the girl. You slammed a glass down on the counter, not breaking it but definitely causing a sound loud enough for all eyes to turn to you. “Oi, watch it, Birdie. Do you have any idea how much those glasses cost?” You hadn’t noticed Draco walk up to the bar before your actions, too focused on the growing grin Mattheo wore at your increased rage.

Then an idea popped into your head, a definitive way to get back at Mattheo being a right prick. You walked from behind the bar, coming now to stand in front of Draco who only eyed you suspiciously. “Hi Dray,” your voice sickly sweet, “Have any dinner plans?” Draco looked to the other three boys, obviously asking for an explanation of your question. Theo rolled his eyes but Blaise only chucked, “She’s plotting something to get back at Riddle. Seems like your her pawn, Malfoy.”

Draco raised his eyebrows as he looked down at you, “This true, Darling? You trying to use me to get back at cousin? What’d he do- ohh, I see now.” Draco glanced over top of you at Mattheo still talking with Trixie, his focus slightly less strict now that he noticed you grab hold of Draco’s bicep. Meeting your eyes again Draco shrugged, “You know what, fuck it. Matt’s been a dick to me lately, serves him right.”

You sealed happily, clasping your hands together, “Seriously? Oh, Merlin, thank you so much!” You wrapped your arms around Draco’s middle, smushing your face into his upper abdomen. “Easy, there. Don’t want him to kill me before we get to the main event,” Draco joked. You pulled back, smile still evident. Enzo just shook his head, “You sure bout this, Angel?”

Nodding, you walked back round the bar, “Oh I’m sure. Wanna go around 9, Dray? There’s no way he’d leave in the middle of busy hours. You can handle the bar yourself tonight, right Enzie?” You turned to your friend with pleading eyes. Enzo nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll make Pansy help if needed.” You hugged Enzo now, who let out a low chuckle and patted your back.

“I’ll leave a dress for you in the dancers changing room, you’ll get dressed here and I’ll make sure he sees you before we leave,” Draco was looking down at his phone as he spoke. You nodded, “Okay, sounds good.” He sent you a wink before walking back towards the office. You looked at the clock, noting you had four hours to get through before you could implement your plan.

Those hours seemed to drag, Enzo constantly reminding you to not watch the clock and just work. When you saw it was 8:30 you gave Enzo’s arm a light squeeze to let him know you were going to get ready. In the changing rooms you saw a garment bag with your name etched on it. Always showing off money, huh, Draco, you thought in your head. Unzipping the bag your face was graced with a smirk. Inside hung a velvet ruched bodycon minidress in a deep emerald green. The chest a sweetheart neckline with a slightly deeper plunge.

Slipping it on you were delighted with the outcome. The dress contouring every curve of your body, hiding the insecure bits and accentuating your assets. Doing your hair in loose waves and applying some light makeup, you slipped on the black heels Draco had included and walked out of the changing room, nearly running into the one person you’d hoped would see you.

Grabbing hold of your waist, Mattheo eyed you questioningly, “Where do you think you’re going?” You rolled your eyes, which only irritated him further, “Don’t worry boss, I’m not dancing. I’m just going to dinner.” This didn’t make Mattheo stop worrying, if anything he worried further. “Dinner? With fucking who?”

“With me, cousin,” Draco walked into the hall, clad in a pair of sleek black trousers and a black button up, “My, my, you look ravishing, darling.” You peeled Mattheo’s hands from your hips, turning to the blonde boy now, “Thank you, Dray. You ready?” Draco nodded, holding out his arm for you to take. You looped your arm in his, glancing over to Mattheo once more to see his face in a deep scowl, jaw clenched. You smirked, flashing him a wink. Jealousy looks sexy on you, Matty, you thought to him just as Draco apparated to the restaurant.

As expected, dinner was wonderfully expensive and posh. Draco surprisingly keeping conversation with you quite well. You even complimented him on it, “I didn’t think I’d ever see this side of you Draco. It’s…nice.” Draco snorted slightly, “Figured I’d give an effort since you’re going to be my family one day.” You smiled, “Awh, aren’t we already family Dray? All playing house in that big manor?” Draco shook his head, smirking now, “I meant with what’s going on between you and cousin.”

You rolled your eyes, “Why does everyone keep saying shit like that? I’m sure he doesn’t treat me any differently than any of the other girls he’s shagged.” Draco’s grin grew two sizes, “So you guys have fucked? More than once or…?” You glared at him, “You’re insufferable.” The blonde just smiled more, “You know I’ve known him my whole life, seen him with a lot of girls, and I mean a lot of girls-” You cut him off quickly, “Thank you Draco, move on please.” He snickered lightly, “I’m just saying, I’ve never seen him act like he does with any other girl he’s been around except you. He’s kind of always seen women as a means to an end, like they’re just there for him when he wants them to be, then he can throw them away when he doesn’t.”

A frown painted your face, not wanting to see Mattheo in that kind of light, but knowing Draco was likely telling the truth. Draco continued, “He’s protective over you, not like he is with the rest of us. It’s like…possessive. Obsessed. He used to be really off the wall wild with every trip we made with the business, but now he’s doing more strategic planning, like he doesn’t want anyone to get in to much danger, like he has something to look forward to when he gets back.”

Your chest warmed with this new information, “You’re really close with him.” Draco nodded, “We were best mates growing up. Mum’s are sisters, but his was always off with his dad, you know him,” you nodded with a grimace, “so he would stay with my family a lot. Even had his own room at mine. I know we call each other cousin but he was practically a brother to me growing up, until I went away to school. His dad didn’t let him go to Hogwarts, wanting to train him like some sort of secret weapon for the war.” You nodded your head, remembering the memories you intruded on with Mattheo.

“He used to beg me to teach him everything I learned during summer Holiday. He caught on so fast too. Used to keep my old textbooks and practice with Gimball while I was away. When the war came he was really conflicted. Hell, we all were. I’m surprised you even came to the club after everything that happened. Didn’t you know…about us?” His question caught you a little off guard. Sure, you had known of Draco in school, he made it practically hard for someone not to know him. And you knew slightly of the others, just that they were similar to Draco, purebloods with family members that were devoted Dark Lord followers, but it had been a few years, everyone kind of grew up, looked a little different. Everyone but Draco, sticking still to his signature looks.

You shrugged, “I knew of the club, knew it was wizard ran, but I didn’t know by who. I definitely didn’t know you guys worked there. Had no real clue about Mattheo at all until Pansy told me. Voldemort definitely kept that secret well.” Draco nodded. You looked up from your plate now, meeting his eyes, “If Mattheo really saw me in the way you imply he does, why was he flirting with a dancer earlier today.” Draco’s lip twitched like he was holding back a smile, “Sometimes old habits die hard. Sometimes we get scared of the feelings we have because they happen so deeply, like nothing we’ve ever had before. And sometimes, when we’re especially stubborn, we just need someone to put us in our place. Take charge, so to speak, to prove to us that they reciprocate what we’re feeling, even to the deepest of depths.”

You quirked an eyebrow at his words, questioning if you were really understanding what he was saying. Draco sighed slightly, “I know Mattheo. I’ve seen him in many stages of life, many emotions, good and bad. He’s never allowed himself to feel as deeply about a person as he does for you because he knows once he starts falling, he’s never going to stop. If you feel the same, you have to show him. If you want what he wants, prove it to him. But you have to play his game. Don’t be a pawn, be a gamekeeper. Show him who’s boss, I’m sure he’s tired of the title.”

Draco paid the bill before taking you both back to the manor. Like a gentleman he walked you to the steps leading up to the rooms. “Thank you for tonight, Draco. It was lovely.” Draco smiled down at you, placing a friendly hand on your shoulder. He leaned in close, giving you a peck on your cheek and whispering in your ear, “Anytime darling.” He gave you a curt wink before walking toward his office on the main floor. You turned round, heading up the steps and walking into your room.

He had probably hoped to startle you, but you had almost expected him to be there waiting for you. “Have fun tonight, Princess? Fuck my cousin? Was he good?” You huffed a laugh, taking off your jewelry and setting it atop your dresser before turning to face him. “Don’t be brash, Mattheo,” you looked him over, sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. His hair was disshelved like he’d been running his hands through it. Which he had been while waiting for you and Draco to come home. The thoughts in his mind spinning wildly about what could have happened.

You walked towards him across the room, him standing to meet you when you pushed him back down, crawling into his lap. “Draco and I just had dinner,” your fingers started to delicately undo the buttons of his shirt, all the way down before pushing it off his shoulders, “just like I said before we left.” He grunted, unconvinced, his hands going to your waist but you pushed them off, “I didn’t say you could touch me.” He tilted his head slightly, looking at you with a sly grin. You reached between your bodies, unbuttoning his trousers and sliding down the zipper.

You stood up then, Mattheo going to follow once more but you tsked at him, “Sit and take off your pants, briefs too,” you leaned down and whispered in his ear, “I want to see all of you, Matty. Can you do that? Can you be my good boy.” Mattheo felt his cock twitch at your words, at your directions. He wasn’t sure what was happening but he knew he wanted to find out. You walked back towards the bed, just a few feet away, slipping your dress off your shoulders to reveal your bare breasts and black thong to the man across from you.

Mattheo couldn’t help but groan at the site, his cock standing at attention as you slid your panties down your legs before you climbed onto the foot of the bed and turning to face him, legs spread open wide so he got a full view of your glistening cunt. Mattheo groaned at the sight. “You can touch yourself, Matty. Go on,” you encouraged and he followed directions, instantly grabbing hold of his thick cock and pumping himself, “Show me what you wish you were doing to me,” you let your hands cup your breasts, squeezing them lightly causing Mattheo to groan at the view, his eyes rolling, “because tonight you don’t get to touch me at all.”

His eyes shot open then, hand stilling on his length. You pouted at him, mocking his frown, “Don’t stop now, baby. I was enjoying the view.” You lightly slid your hand up the insides of your thighs, giving yourself goosebumps. Mattheo watched with hungry eyes as you took two fingers and glided them through your folds, coating your fingers in your slick before rubbing your clit lightly. “Keep touching yourself, baby, let me see you,” you started applying more pressure on your bundle of nerves, slight whimpers leaving your mouth as Mattheo started slowly guiding his hand up and down his length once more.

When you slid two fingers inside of yourself, eliciting a gasp from your lips you didn’t miss Mattheo’s low, “Fucking hell”, glancing a look at his desperate eyes. Pumping your fingers you couldn’t help but tease him more, “You’re being such a good boy for me, Matty. Oh, fuck, my fingers stretch me so good, but not as good as when I’m stretched around you, Oh, god, Mattheo.” Hearing his name fall from your lips while he watched you pleasure yourself was his idea of torture. Your hips bucked against your hand, your clit hitting your palm with every grind and building the familiar heat in the pit of your stomach, “Fuck, Matty, I wish I was about to come on your cock, but you just had to misbehave this afternoon, didn’t you?”

His nostrils flared at your words, speech stuttering as his thumb swiped over his slit, eyes glued to your fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, “I-I’m sorry, Princess. I didn’t-”

“Shut up,” you moaned out, looking up to see himself pumping his cock faster. You could tell he was close by the amount of precum leaking from his tip. “Stop touching yourself,” you commanded. Mattheo groaned, but listened to instructions. When you saw he had stopped your bucked your hips faster, chasing your high until you were tumbling over the edge into your orgasm, “Fuck, oh fuck, yes.” Mattheo’s dick twitched at the sight of you coming undone, your thighs quaking, clamping shut on your hand as you rode out your high, still pumping your fingers in and out of yourself before you slowed down, catching your breath and making eye contact with him.

You slid your fingers from your cunt, your juices glistening to where Mattheo could see it across the room. “Come taste, baby,” you held your fingers out for him. Mattheo clambered over quickly, immediately latching his lips to your fingers, tongue swirling around your digits to get every last drop. His lips left your fingers with a pop, hands going to grab your thighs to spread them back open for himself. You slapped his hands away, scooting yourself backwards until you reached the head of the bed, leaning against the pillows.

You spread your legs wide, patting the space between them. “C’mere, Matty. Come sit right here, back to me.” Mattheo crawled over to you, lips quickly attaching to yours in a feverish kiss. His palm against your cheek and fingers splayed on the back of your neck holding you steady as his tongue explored your mouth, groaning at the taste of you still on his tongue. With all the mental strength you could muster you push him away, slapping his face lightly.

Immediately Mattheo started apologizing, “I’m so sorry, Princess, I couldn’t, fuck, I just couldn’t help myself.” You shook your head at his ramblings, making a spinning motion with your finger indicating to him to turn around and get in the position you instructed him to be in before. Mattheo turned around, lying against your chest. You delicately ran your nails along his thighs, his cock twitching at the action. “I was going to let you cum, maybe even help you, but you broke a rule.”

You grabbed Mattheo’s hand, guiding it back toward his aching cock. As he stroked himself again you ran your nails lightly up his sides, his muscles twitching in your wake. You continued to talk to him, tease him and get him further to the edge, “Last night you were so good to me, making me feel so full.” Mattheo let out a low groan as you trailed kisses along the side of his neck, his strokes becoming quicker, “Love it when you grip my thighs, spreading them open as you sink your big cock into my tight little cunt.”

Mattheo let out a shuddered breath as his thumb swiped over his tip. You grab his wrist then, stopping his movements. He let slip a pathetic whimper, begging you for release, “Fuck, please, Princess, I need to cum so bad.” His chest was heaving, head resting back against your shoulder. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp, “Do you deserve that, Matty? Do you deserve to cum after blatantly flirting with that fucking slag right in front of me, hmm?” Mattheo groaned, “Fucks sake, I said I was sorry, you went out with c-cousin I should be p-punishing you.”

He stuttered over his words as you raked your nails up his thighs again, massaging just near where he wanted your touch but not giving in. “We just had dinner, just talked. If you thought it was anything more you would’ve hurt him by now.” You released his wrist, allowing him to pleasure himself once more. “Go on, baby,” you wrapped one arm around his shoulders, the other grabbing hold of his hair, pulling his head back with force. “Tell me who you’re thinking about when you touch yourself, is it her or is it me?”

Mattheo let out a guttural moan, “Fuck, Princess, it’s you. O-only you.” You started kissing up his neck again, biting the taught skin before licking to soothe it, making sure to leave a few marks. “Every time I think of you, fuck, and now I have the image of your tight little cunt stretching around my cock so perfectly. I never want anything else, oh gods.” You could tell he was close now, hips bucking into his hand. You brought your lips close to his ear, breath ghosting over his skin, “Cum for me, baby. Be a good boy.”

At your command a deep grunt left his throat, hot ropes of white shooting from his tip and on to the duvet in front of him. Coming down from his high he relaxed into you further, chest heaving as his breathing slowly evened out. You ran your fingers through his hair, kissing his temple. “Fucking Salazar’s sake, Princess, you trying to kill me now, hmm?” You smiled into his skin, “You did this to yourself, sir.”

He smiled lightly, “I said I’m sorry, Princess. Merlin, if I'd known this is what would happen from some simple flirting I would’ve never started.” He turned round, resting his head on your chest now. You hummed lightly, “I think you more than liked what just happened.” Mattheo pinched the side of your bum lightly, causing you to squeal. He turned his head, resting his chin atop your chest before leaning up slightly and catching your lips in a chaste kiss one, two, three times before laying his head back down.

You stayed like that for a moment before he broke the silence, “The boys say I’m growing attached to you.” You smiled slightly, hands running through his messy curls, “Do you agree with them?” He nodded, “Scares me how much I care about you, Birdie.” You frowned slightly, though he couldn’t see it, “Why does it scare you?” His eyes fluttered shut, you playing with his hair soothing him. He slid his hands beneath the underside of your shoulders, holding you as close as possible, “Means I’ve got something to lose.”

[varpusvaras]

None of the Queens are devoted tea drinkers, not in a way that they would have strong opinions on how to drink their tea, aside from what to not put in it (Roy still gives tea with milk a very long stare even if he doesn't say anything).

It's about more than just liking tea as a drink, though. It's about the process of making it, the practised routine of it, the feeling of simple, grounding safety it brings.

It's also about the company.

It's just past five in the morning. Dinah is still up, sitting at the kitchen isle. The house is quiet.

She must've dosed off a little, because she notices Jason in the kitchen only when he is already in there, putting water in the kettle. He has Roy's hoodie thrown over his shoulders, and he says nothing as he puts the kettle on and starts to silently go through the drinks cabinet. Most of the tea in there is his, so he picks through the variety with ease.

Dinah comtemplates telling him to go back to sleep. They've all gotten back home just a couple of hours earlier, after running back to back missions, first on their own and then together. Jason has a rather nasty looking bruise stretching over his brow and temple, and Dinah knows that he hoodie is hiding a wrist brace beneath it.

She doesn't say anything. Everyone has a hard time falling asleep after being up and running for so long from time to time. Today, it's her and Jason. It's nice to have someone with you when dealing with that.

The kettle clicks. Jason takes out two mugs and pours water over the teabags. Dinah watches as he mixes in a good spoonful of honey to the other mug, the spoon clicking softly as he stirs.

He then takes both of the mugs and brings them over, setting the one with honey in front of her. He then sits down, a couple of chairs away from her, and looks at his own tea.

"I heard from Barbie that you were with the birds earlier", he whispers, his voice a little rough with sleep that will not yet come. "It's chamomile with honey. Helps with a sore throat."

Dinah takes her mug. It's warm against her hands. The morning is not cold, but the warmth is comforting, anyway.

She takes a sip. It's soft and sweet, and the taste of the honey stays for a bit after she swallows.

"It's good", she whispers back to him. "Thank you."

Jason hums, just as soft and sweet as the tea. From the corner of her eye, Dinah can see his lips turn up ever so slightly, before he hides behind his own tea. Dinah smiles as well, before taking another sip.

[bloodb3nders]

part three.

| shota aizawa (eraserhead) x fem!reader |

wc: 4.4k

warnings: same as masterlist

a/n: for my sake, pretend the dorms were implemented after USJ attack or some.

NOW PLAYING: fortnight t. swift

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

you silently put your teabag into your mug, tying the string of it around the handle as you watched the tea leaves burst in color against the hot water. you carefully picked up the mug, before making your way out of the teacher’s lounge, to your classroom. the school bell rang out, and you started to quicken your pace so you wouldn’t keep class 3-a waiting. as you made your way through the halls of the school, you made a mistake of briefly glancing into class 1-a, and in doing so, made eye contact with none other than izuku midoriya.

“blue phantom! blue phantom!” the student cried out, and you internally groaned as you begrudgingly walked up to the classroom, hoping shota wouldn’t chide you for interrupting his class. after what you’d heard him say, you’d gone out of your way to try not to bother him, whether it was taking different routes from him around the school or making sure not to sit at his table during lunch. however, it seemed that young midoriya was very insistent on you coming into the homeroom class, as he waved you over eagerly.

you slowly stepped into the classroom, giving a small wave to aizawa, who just looked away from you. this action did not go unnoticed by his students, who spoke up. “ms l/n! thank you for healing our teacher!” ochaco uraraka called out, and a few others thanked you in agreement with the brown haired girl.

“oh, uh, of course! it was nothing!” you responded, feeling slightly awkward as the students praised you.

“yes, thank you, ms l/n,” aizawa spoke, and your eyes widened at his voice.

“of course, I know you’d do the same,” you said softly, offering him a small smile.

“I knew it!” midoriya spoke, and your head whipped towards him. “what?”

“you guys both went to UA together! and you debuted at the same time. I didn’t know mr aizawa had any friends!!” he spoke, and you had to lock in and keep your composure to ensure you wouldn’t laugh at the very end of the boy’s statement.

“yeah we thought he was too grouchy for anyone!” another student called out, and your jaw dropped slightly.

“now, now students, mr aizawa is very kind and friendly, don’t pick at him,” you tried to start, but the kids simply laughed. you sighed in defeat, offering shota a quick apology before slipping out of the door as fast as you could, and beelined for your classroom.

however, izuku midoriya was hellbent on discovering what exactly was going on between you and shota. it’s not that he was trying to pry into his homeroom teacher’s life, he simply was just doing research on his teacher’s early hero debut days. and so, the young student sat in the common room of the class 1-a dorm, pulling up all the earliest videos he could find by searching eraserhead and blue phantom. a few videos popped up, and he immediately started watching them, which attracted the attention of his fellow students. before he knew it, the whole class of 1-a was crowded into the lounge, as midoriya connected his laptop to the TV, projecting the old fights on a bigger screen.

“woah! I didn’t know mr aizawa, present mic, and blue phantom all worked together! that’s so cool!” mina ashido exclaimed, and the class murmured the same, attention locked on the tv as they watched their teachers fight villains. they watched on as the three of you effortlessly took down villains together, with you and present mic doing most of the press work after. they watched fight after fight, as the three of you, still rookies, constantly worked together, creating a formidable force against crime in the city.

“wow! they were really great! I wonder why I don’t see them together much now,” ochaco spoke, and midoriya hummed in agreement.

“well, I suppose present mic and mr aizawa both went to come teach at UA while blue phantom stayed on the hero scene,” he offered, but his voice faltered, as if that reason didn’t exactly seem right. little did he know, as he pulled up the next video, hs question would be answered. as he clicked play, a silence fell over the class as they watched the fight in front of them ensue.

two villains, one with a strength quirk and another with some sort of laser quirk took to the scene, destroying a town square as civilians ran, screams echoing through the air. before more damage could ensue, present mic, erased head, and blue phantom showed up on the scene. although he couldn’t make it out, midoriya watched as the three of you quickly shouted some plans to each other, before diving into action.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

you quickly made a force field around shota, shielding him as he quickly eased the laser’s quirk, rendering him powerless as present mic unleashed a loud yell at him, which rendered him incapacitated. suddenly, you moved in blue orbs rising to your hands as you landed a signature blue phantom smash, easily knocking out the villain with the strength quirk. the three of you regrouped, a smile plastered on your face at the easy takedown.

“piece of cake!” hizashi cried out, before less than a moment later, he went flying out into the air. “hizashi!” you cried, as you flew up into the air, chasing after him, leaving shota on the ground. you managed to catch up with hizashi, who grabbed onto your arm as the two of you made a crash landing on the roof of a building. you groaned into the gravel of the roof, slowly pushing yourself up and off the ground, looking to hizashi who only lay a few feet ahead of you, doing the same.

“what was that?” you asked, brushing your legs off as you got up. before you could respond, a man, clad in black appeared in the sky, wearing a dark mask. “silly little heroes, they couldn’t have sent any from the top ten to stop me?” the figure said with a dark laugh, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

before you could react, hizashi immediately released a scream at him, but the villain quickly flew about his sound waves, and in a few seconds, flew into you, punch landed to your gut as you barely had time to react. however, once you were in the air, you activated blue orbs, catching yourself, before flying back towards the villain, meeting his punch with your own, and an explosion sounded throughout the air, smoke flying around you as you were flung back on the roof.

the air was knocked out of you as you hit the roof with a thud, and you groaned in pain at the harsh impact. you figured maybe a bruised rib, but nothing you couldn’t handle. you flipped around on your back. as you saw the villain near you, black smoke billowing from his hands. you braced yourself from another hit, forcing blue orbs into a force field around you, but it never came. you looked to the side, and your heart lepton for joy as you saw shota, hair standing up, eyes fiery as he nullified the villains quirk. in that instance, present mic released a deafening scream, and the villain fell on the top of the roof, bending over in pain.

aizawa went to tie the villain up after hizashi’s attack, but as the villain was seemingly unfazed, and grab shota’s wraps, causing his gaze to leave the villain, and your eyes widened, bracing yourself for another attack. however, it wasn’t dodged at you, as the villain blasted shota and hizashi off the roof. “no!” you cried out, as you watched your friends be blasted into the building nearby. you assumed a fighting stance as the villain closed in on you. “you’re the one who works for all might, aren’t you?” he asked, and you grit your teeth.

“what about it?”

“I love killing sidekicks,” he growled out, and you inhaled sharply, before bumping your fists together.

“bring it on,” was all you responded, as you charged at him, exchanging blows with the villain. you’d never faced a villain with this much power, and you felt yourself shake with every punch you received. even a blue light smash wasn’t enough to take this guy down, and you found a flame of fear inside your chest as you continued to brawl with the villain. you were pretty positive you had a few cracked ribs, and you prayed that hizashi and shota were okay. “this all you got?” you jeered at the villain, and you saw anger twist on his face as he came at you. you focused all your energy into your hands, and cried out as you put all your force into a finishing blow, and as your fist connected with the villains chest, you were sent back in an instant, and you hit the fire escape of the building, and sunk to the ground. your vision blurred for a few moments, before you opened them, villain’s body on the ground a dozen feet from where you are.

shota and hizashi were in front of you in an instant, shota giving you a quick luck before heading to the villain, while hizashi crouched down in front of you. “orby, you good?” he asked, and you groaned in response. however, a loud boom echoed from behind hizashi, followed by more black smoke. “shota!” you cried out, shoving hizashi to the side as the smoke parted, and the scene in front of you ripped your heart in two. right before your eyes, the dark villain was shoving the man you loved into the gravel, trying to grind his head, specifically his eyes into the ground. you watched as he landed punch after punch, and a scream ripped through your throat.

before you could process what your body was doing, you were on your feet, pain in every step as adrenaline pumped through your veins, a blue light, stronger than any you’d been able to produce before flowed out the palms of your hand, as the villain looked up, a bone-chilling grin on his face, challenging you. "y/n!" hizashi called out but you didn't hear him, as your feet started carrying you, faster and faster, rage flowing through your body as another scream ripped through your throat. calling out your special move, your first collided with the villain, a sickening crunch ensuing as your knuckles found his fist. the two of you were thrown back by the force after, and your vision went white as you felt yourself falling through the air.

a single sound pierced through the air as your body plummeted through the air, shota screaming for you as he whipped his wrap down towards your body, despite his battered and bloodied figure. your vision came back for only a moment, as you looked up at the scene before you. the look of horror shota and hizashi stared, the desperation in shota's eyes as he willed his wraps to you. you forced your hand up in that moment, just millimeters out of reach from his wraps. he was safe, and that was all that mattered. even if he never knew how you felt, at least he was alive. because of you. and so, accepting your fate as you plummeted off the side of the building, eyes shutting as you felt darkness take over your entire body.

a choked scream left shota aizawa as he watched you barrel towards the ground, wraps barely out of reach from you. watched as you crashed into the ground, a buzz of blue light going with you as a blue explosion came from the ground as you hit with a deafening crash. his mind went numb, and he could hear hizashi trying to urge him to move, but his body froze in place as he watched the smoke from the roof of the building. police had just broken in through the fire escape, and he heard the voices of other pro-heroes behind him, who he assumed had successfully tied up the villain. but none of their voices reached his ears, only the pained sound of your scream before you were sent spiraling down a high-rise.

once again, another one of his closest friends, was now gone. without a trace, without a goodbye, not another moment to spare between them. but worst of all, he had just watched as the girl he'd loved since she'd been stupid enough to heal the tiniest scratch on his hand fall to her death. all for him. and what did he have to show for it? a bruised face and some broken bones? pathetic, shota thought to himself, as he felt hizashi pry him off the side of the roof, walking him over to the police, whispering something into his ear that he still couldn't quite hear.

cause for a fortnight there you were, together, living in a bubble that the three of you were untouchable, a lesson you hadn't seemed to learn after oboro had died. accept this time, you were pro heroes, and surely you were far stronger than you had been during your second year of UA. but here he was, with nothing to show for that progress except for some broken bruise and half a heart left in him.

unfortunately, the heart break and the pain of loss would've been easier to deal with than with what actually happened.

the words that attacked shota barely registered in his mind as the police were informing him on your critical state. apparently at the last moment, your quirk had unexpectedly activated, or at least that's what they thought, and the freak explosion of blue light had somehow broken your fall to prohibit your death. you were in critical condition, but the doctors were certain you'd pull through. said that you were extremely lucky to have had a sort of failsafe, but none of these words reached shota's ears.

you wouldn't even be in this state if it weren't for him.

for overestimating the villain and letting him exploit his weakness. for not fighting back hard enough. for not telling hizashi to stop you from fighting after you'd clearly spent yourself. for not diving off the side of that building to save you. for not telling you how much he actually cared about you. how he could listen to you ramble for hours, how he secretly loved seeing you push your limit with your quirk, how you would fall asleep on his shoulder whenever the three of you had a movie night at hizashi's house. how you always looked at him like you believed in him. like he could do anything. like he strung the stars in the sky.

his mind was made up before the question even came into his mind.

he would never be your friend again. because even as just friends, it was clear to shota, that you would only ever get hurt if you were too close to him.

and so, he distanced himself from you. didn't visit you once, ignored your texts and phone calls, temporarily moved out of the apartment, avoided all of your typical patrol routes, and a few years later, gave up hero work altogether to teach at UA. to redeem himself and save the students, implement some sort of levelheadedness you hadn't had. he'd watch your journey from afar, suppressing every urge to reach out or to even look up your name online. to not track your progress, only digest news about you if it happened to be on. he and hizashi would fight over this time and time again, but this was the only way to keep you safe, away from him. you deserved a life with people who could protect you. and it was clear to shota aizawa that what you needed wasn't him.

it was foolish to think that someone of your caliber would ever want to be with him anyways.

of course, once he thought he'd sealed all the old wounds and feelings, it all came unraveled when he heard you'd be teaching class 3-a for the year. especially when shota aizawa realized once again that despite all his best efforts, you simply couldn't stay away from him, and instead, healed him, once again. but even after that, he knew he couldn't give in. the farther away he kept you, the safer you were. and even though you'd never the spot in his heart that was saved only for you, he swore to himself he'd never give you the chance to find it. you'd become a pro-hero and work with people far stronger than he could ever be. because that's what you deserved. and that's how he'd keep you safe.

"mr. aizawa?" a voice called out to him, and he turned to see izuku midoriya standing in the doorway of class 1-a. "what is it, midoriya?" he asked, and his student gave him a nervous look.

"i know it's not my place, but you're not very friendly to blue pha- ms. l/n," the green-haired boy spoke, and aizawa didn't dare respond, choosing to let the silence play to his advantage. his play worked, and the boy couldn't help but ramble on, desperate to fill the silence.

"it's not that you have to be, but well, i saw the videos of the two of you and present mic when you all were rookies and, i guess i just don't understand what seemed to tear you all apart. i know she was in a serious accident, but none of it makes sense," the green hair boy spoke, and aizawa sighed.

"some people just grow apart. it happens," was all he said before turning away from the boy, effectively ending the conversation.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

you nervously gulped as you sat with the other teachers, awaiting the class 1-a pair trainings. you’d unfortunately been subbed in last minute, and now you were about to face midoriya and bakugo, which based off what hizashi had told you, were always at odds with each other. all might owes you big time for you stepping in for him. something about an errand to run in Tokyo that you were pretty sure was bs, but oh well, here you were. you watched the screen while you were sat next to midnight, watching some students best their teachers, and others fail. after watching mineta weirdly best midnight, you slowly rose from your seat, ready to take to the training ground.

you walked into the training area, surveying the tall buildings around you as you activated your quirk, and you started to hover in the air, blue orbs propelling you upward. the two students entered the arena, and you locked in to the villain spiel like you’d seen your fellow teachers do. you let some of your blue energy encompass your body, and your eyes glowed a darker blue through your white eye mask. “aw, they sent some itty bitty heroes to stop me? I’d like to see you try,” you spat out, which earned a deafening explosion from bakugo, and you immediately formed a protective bubble around yourself, as the explosion roared around you.

“tell me, do you not know how blue orbs work?” you asked as the smoke from the explosion settled, the students looking slightly frazzled that the explosion hadn’t even touched you. “you can use them at will to fly, to punch and blast, to make force fields,” midoriya immediately called out, and bakugo scoffed. you laughed darkly, and midoriya swore he felt a shiver go down his spine.

“yes, but essentially i can will these orbs to do whatever i want. will it into whatever i please. it leaves me an endless supply of power that you will never defeat,” you spoke, and you kind of cringed at this whole villain act you had going on internally. bakugo rolled his eyes at you. “if your quirks so powerful, then come and get us, shitty villain!” he cried out at you, and you sprung into action, sending two orbs out towards the boys, who as you predicted, quietly started running away from you. you zoomed to them, blasting them both into different buildings, glass shattering in the distance as you left them, heading towards the exit to guard it.

you crossed your legs into a meditative position, and enclosed yourself in a blue force field as you cleared your mind. you knew you were supposed to be a little hands off in this battle, allowing the two to work together to pass their final exam. hizashi had told you shota put them together purely based off the fact that they had a horrible relationship. so you assumed it was best for you to force them to work together to defeat you, by crushing their spirits a bit first. so you waited, clearing your mind and focusing on your breathing, honing in on the energy swirling around your body.

you quickly did a blue light scan, a flash of blue spreading through the training grounds, and you picked up some movement in an alley a hundred feet away from you. you sighed, and quickly zoomed through the city center, as the two came out to face you. battle ensued once more, and you quickly dodged punches from the two as they attempted to tag team you. this went on for a minute or so, before you caught midoriya’s foot, and sent him flying backwards. in the split second that you did that, bakugo sent a roaring punch into your side, the explosion sending you flying into the air, and you quickly caught yourself, landing on the top of a nearby building. you grunted, rubbing your side slightly from the burn on your side. in a mere matter of minutes, both of the students met you on the roof, ready to attack you.

shota watched on the screen as you, once again, were on a roof, squaring off against two students instead of a villain instead. something felt eerily off about the whole situation, and he couldn’t stop the way his pulse spiked suddenly at the whole situation. it was too familiar, taunting him as he sat, watching the battle ensue.

they were only two students. you were the number eight pro-hero. surely you had a plan, right? that's what he kept repeating to himself as you matched the students, blow for blow, explosions echoing in the air as flashes of green, blue, and orange painted the sky around you. with sweat on your brow, you focused more energy into your movements, hoping that by frustrating bakugo and draining the hope from midoriya, victory would soon be yours. however, you started to notice how the two had started coordinating attacks, communicating with their eyes in a language unknown to you.

suddenly, a plan formed in your mind. it wasn't necessarily a good one, a tricky one, but if you executed it, you'd win this whole match and these two students would fail. not that you were trying to get them to fail, but, you were getting kind of pissed off with all the constant close combat explosions you were having to dodge and shield yourself from. so, you let your actions grow a little sloppy, faked some winces, started to act like you were slipping during your punches. the students picked up on this, and you saw bakugo's eyes light up with joy at the slight change in your actions. in a quick twist, you quickly kicked midoriya off of the roof, acting desperate, as if you couldn't handle fighting the two of them for much longer.

bakugo's blasts became more intense, and you feigned weakness, letting yourself be grazed more and more with each punch that came your way. he shouted something ridiculous about you being a shitty villain, before he played right into your hands, landing a loud punch that shot you backwards, and you forced yourself to go limp.

shota's mouth went dry as he watched you plummet from the air, the scene before him reminiscent of the incident that happened a few years ago. "hizashi, we need to stop this now," he said firmly, and and hizashi laughed at him. "you're dumb if you think she'd been ko'd," he said, flashing shota a grin. heart racing, he watched as you dropped towards the ground, body lifeless. his eyes quickly flickered to the ground as he spotted midoriya looking up at your body, eyes wide, a scared look on his face, as he stretched his arms out, power flashing through him as if he was preparing to save you. even bakugo, still on the roof, had an ounce of worry behind his eyes, watching as you fell.

you could sense the energy radiating off of midoriya, and as soon as you heard his quirk begin to activate, you snapped to life, meeting him with a final blow, throwing him into the ground as you reactivated your quirk, feet hitting the ground softly, before you blast off back into the sky, heading straight for bakugo, who nearly doubled over in surprise at your resurgence. he quickly blasted away, and the two students tried their best to pass their final exam.

in the end, you let them pass. you'd felt a bit bad about the trick, but midoriya was such a sucker, you knew he'd saved you if you'd played dirty. walking back into the watch room, you gave a thumbs up to the other professors as you sunk back into your seat, exhausted. the matches were over, but you really just needed a moment to sit, think, and detox from the fight.

"some stunt you pulled there," shota spoke, voice low, and you opened one eye at him.

"it was planned," you responded cooly. "midoriya can't help but save people, i just exploited his weak spot," you added, and shota grunted.

"can't tell if that's smart or reckless," he responded, and your other eye fluttered open, fully looking at him now.

"sometimes you've gotta make reckless decisions to save others," you spoke, voice quiet, almost above a whisper. "that's my job," you added, voice an inch louder.

"'m sorry for being a dick lately," he spoke, and you raised your eyebrows slightly.

"i already forgave you for that," was all you said, pushing off of the chair, and making your way out of the room.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

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