#save the date sunday

[softerhaze]

(♪)

[jfkisonthemoon]

HAPPY SYCAMORE SUNDAY BROUGHT TO YOU BY NEW WORLD OF STEAM

TODAY'S SYCAMORE SUNDAY IS:

lucky luciano sycamore

[aberooski]

That piano version she just did really just shot How You Get The Girl even higher up on my list for 1989 and I already loved the crap out of that song aksksllsksks

Also before I Bet You Think About Me when she said she was gonna play a song she'd never played live before my heart stopped. I wailed in my bedroom. My entire life flashed before my eyes. I deadass thought she was gonna play Come In With The Rain and I was going to pass away right then and there I was HORRIFIED for my life. I ADORE IBYTAM but I was SO SCARED 😭😭😭 Taylor I'm not going to survive until June at this rate 😭

[sn0tcl0wn]

forgive me for the dirty hallway mirror and my greasy ass gremlin aura but check out this dope fuckin hat i got at the renn faire

[pearlywritings]

Intimacy records

synopsis: what kinds of horny stuff they have in their phones and which is the favorite?

pairing and characters: Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Dr Ratio, Gallagher, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Loucha, Sampo, Sunday (separately) x fem!reader

tw: SMUT, established relationship (marriage/dating), consensual recording of lovemaking, nudes, oral, lingerie, fingering, masturbation, public sex, breast play, shibari/blindfold, sex machine, creampie

word count: 4.3k+ words

Aventurine

Undoubtedly this man has a whole separate folder for intimate stuff. Of course, he demands you send him something on a daily basis - doesn’t matter if it’s a quick snap of your choice of lingerie in the morning, or recordings of touching yourself - but never enough to cum, it’s his job. Naturally he loves having reminders of you being at his mercy - thus there are also videos of you both (with primarily established consent). All that to say - he has quite the collection, so it’s really hard to pick a favorite, the most desire-arising one.

Maybe it’s a category actually - self-made media created out of bet. Who’ll cum first? Can you keep going without tearing up from pleasure for longer than 10 minutes? Is he patient enough not to touch your sexy self, while you masturbate in front of him? Who is going to be louder this time? These kinds.

”I hope you are ready to lose,” your lover smirks, making himself comfortable between your legs. Camera floats a little, as you chuckle behind it. With a momentary adjustment, the focus is on his face again and he winks, before turning to trail a little path of kisses across your thigh. The image jumps, when he sucks on the skin, and slightly trembles as you let out a sigh. Then it’s firm, as Aventurine wraps his arms around your thighs, his nose teasingly rubbing against your clit. Suddenly there is a lick, then your breath hitches…. And then he buries his mouth into your pussy. It doesn’t take much time for the image to begin shaking wildly, almost matching your debauched noises. There is squelching, there are award-winning male moans, muffled by your heat, soon there is a hand, your hand, reaching down and grabbing his hair. Phone strangely angles, hardly supported by just one hand, until it falls camera down onto the sheets. After that, there are just delicious screams of yours, chanting the name of your lover and begging him to stop, while he doesn’t listen, taking his reward for yet another win.

Yeah, he proved you can’t keep the camera focused while he is eating you out in that one. It’s truly a pity, that more than a half of what was going on, didn’t get recorded in image. Maybe next time you'll do better - oh... That's actually not a bad idea at all… Looks like you are in for another bet.

Blade

His situation is… quite peculiar. First of all, he has so little care for his own phone outside using it to get info for the mission, to the point ANYONE from the Stellaron Hunters can just take it and do whatever with it (Silver Wolf and Kafka practice it a lot). Even your relationship doesn’t change it much, he messages you rarely and quite shortly, preferring to save the conversation for personal interaction. 

However recently, Kafka has been putting a plan into action - the first step of which was banning everyone from getting into his phone (herself excluded). Then she’d start sending her colleague an occasional picture of a set of lingerie she’s oh so sure would look wonderful on you. Blade never answers, but he doesn’t tell her off either, and by the snooping she knows that the pictures get bookmarked, the links for the shops she attaches are visited, and sums of money are being spent.

Oh, and by checking the chat… She knows you get them delivered. Does she text you to shower you with compliments? She does. At first it was a little embarrassing and you asked Blade if he could, maybe, pay better attention to his phone??? But soon, when your lover started showing the telltale signs of jealousy... It became pretty hot (plus praise from THE Kafka? Ego-boosting).

Blade doesn’t voice it, but more than seeing you all pretty for him, he loves seeing you ruined for him, and doesn’t complain when you ask him to take a picture with your phone of whatever part of you, focusing on the marks, or the torn crotch of your panties, or something alike… There are times when he would text you with a simple ‘send me pictures with torn stockings’ or ‘yesterday. open nipples bra. now’ , because he knows you have them, and you deliver, because you know he loves them. 

Has his favorites:

Depicts your thighs, bitten and opened wide, while the black panties are pushed aside to let two thick, scar-covered fingers dive into your pussy.

Your body after one of the sessions - bra roughly pushed down under the mark-covered breasts, panties missing, one stocking still on the leg, but with multiple holes in it, and the other tying your wrists above your head.

A small video you insisted on recording of the man tugging onto your garter belt whenever he wanted your hips to push towards his thrust, threatening for the thin elastic material to snap.

Even though he doesn’t save them, he knows how to get an easy access to them, so for Blade it works quite fine (and Kafka’s plan does too, making Blade look less intimacy-repulsed and spicing up your relationship).

Boothill

A cyborg, whose only human part of the body is the head, and sex life… How can this be possible? 

Oh, trust me, it can. Sure, his bodily reaction differs, but he still is excited to get nudes from you, finally able to express through the text what he really thinks with that foul mouth of his. A voice recording of you dirty talking to him? Awesome. A video? You can bet his engine is overheating and vents are whirring.

But in all honesty, the ones he truly loves and returns to are the recordings of him doing stuff to you. Call him self-conscious, it’s not like he can bite back with a swear, but the reminder that he can bring you pleasure even now is sometimes necessary.

The lights are intimately dimmed, not enough to bring the room into utter darkness. Two bodies are lying almost intertwined with your back turned to the camera. The metal arm of your lover has sneaked under your side and around your waist, fingers digging into the plush glob of your ass, tugging on it, to further the spread which is created by your leg thrown over his hip. Your pussy is perfectly presented to the camera, puffy and slick, with two gray plated fingers massaging it. Digits slide up and down your labia, occasionally staying on the clit, to rub tight circles on it and elicit some sweet moans out of you, only to return to their previous ministrations, dipping the tips juuust a little bit into the quivering hole. Your back arches and body deliciously shivers from the contrast of his cool and your heat, and you softly whine, when he releases your ass cheek to give it a spank and then grab it again, unwilling to let the sight of your cunt escape his phone’s camera. You whimper something, muffled by his chest, but he remembers by heart what you were begging for. ‘Please, put your mouth on me.’ He will, in a minute, but right now he pushes both fingers to the second knuckle in, making you jolt in his hold, but not letting you go anywhere.

It’s captivating, how his inhuman digits disappear and reappear with every thrust he makes; slick-covered they look shiny, as if you polished them, and the cyborg shudders, imagining your tongue running around them. That’s one dangerous video, he may just give in to his want to see you and abandon the mission he was assigned to…

Dr Veritas Ratio

Unsurprisingly, Veritas’ phone doesn’t contain that much stuff in general. Maybe some downloaded articles, notes to put down later, if he doesn’t have a piece of paper at the moment, and very few pictures, mainly of his writings on the chalkboard. Don’t be discouraged though, of course he has pictures of you. Some selfies you took after “borrowing” his phone and ones he doesn’t have a heart to delete (but he will scoff at you, should you decide to tease him), and some very well-thought images he took on his own accord - he needs reference for when he decides to let his mind rest from research and focus on sculpting.

And one might think that such a reserved and cold man will not entertain storing anything explicit on his phone. Well, he indeed does not have any pictures and videos saved - if he wants, he can either find what you sent him via your chat or just demand your assistance. However… There is something that strangely became his way of concentrating when doing his research…

”Oh! Mh- *thrust* Veri- ohmygod! *thrust*”

“Wait- Aaah! I can’t! I’m sore! MmmmMMM!” “No, you can and you will. Now hold still, I can’t eat you out if you keep thrashing around.” “Oh Aeons!”

*Slick sounds of you going down on him, gurgling and choking on his girth, occasionally gasping to catch your breath, only to have his cock buried in your throat again*

“Baaaby… I miss you so much… Can I come to your office? I promise to be good… Just need to cockwarm you - nothing else I swear. Let me keep you company pleeease. Imagine how nicely it'd be to have your cock buried in my pussy, while you are working… Need to help you with stress-relief, it's gonna feel so-so good.”

“Oh fuck, o-oh, love, I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I’mcumMIN-” “Ngh, s-so…tight…” “Aaaaaaah~!”

“Veritas Ratio, if you come home in ten minutes, I will give you a nice massage and then ride you damn cock, till the only thing you can think about is not your work, but me. If you fail to do so though… I wonder if my threat to use some toys instead will work. Just know that your wife is very mad. And horny.”

It doesn't matter if the audio was taken while you were intimate or it was something you sent to him and he saved - he thoroughly enjoys everything your voice has to offer to him. And if instead of concentrated it accidentally makes him horny - he'll just play the next one, while undoing his pants.

Gallagher

Oh, this man is a menace. And a huge ass-lover. His gallery is full of pictures of your booty: clothed, just panty-clad or bare. There are shots with your body clearly being bent, ass up and back covered in his load. Videos of him fucking you from behind, with cock sliding in and out of your pussy? Obviously. Recordings of it jiggling as he spanks you? Would’ve been strange if they weren’t there.

However, in that vast collection of his, there is a video that’s most peculiar - one might say scandalous. It was one of those nights when he took over the bar for Siobhan and you came over at some point, all enticing and so sexy in that little dress of yours… He could not resist taking you right there once the establishment was closed. And it got on security camera...

Moans so loud, that they are reaching the recording device, are still of the delicious kind. Your back is arched over the bar counter, arms lifted and wrists tied by none other but Gallagher’s wine-red tie, and held by his own hand for good measure. The front of your dress is pushed down, revealing your pretty breasts, jiggling with every thrust of the man’s hips, and the hem of it has ridden up, baring your stomach and mark-covered thighs. Your lover is barely unclothed, pants and boxers pushed down just enough to free his cock and the tie, obviously, missing. The hand that is not holding your wrists, is grabbing onto your leg, under the knee, lifting it for a better angle, and showing off a lewd detail - your black lace panties hanging on your shin. You are looking positively debauched, and he is no better, groaning and cursing, with an occasional exceptionally rough trust that makes you scream and whine. There are teeth-gritted ‘slut’s and huskily chuckled ‘bad girl’s with your pleading ‘sir’s and ‘Gal’s, all of that deliciously seasoned with the clapping of the wet skin colliding. But nothing beats the moment of you cumming, depicted by no less than three cameras from all of the hottest angles…

Of course this footage was ‘confiscated’ by him with some dumb excuse for Siobhan (he doubts she believed it, given the knowing look and shit-eating grin she gave him), with all traces destroyed except just one copy thoroughly hidden on his phone. He thinks you two should repeat that - this time, however, he’d love to bend you over the counter with your back facing him…

Gepard Landau

Gepard would die if someone took his phone and got into his gallery. Poor man has to change the password weekly to throw Serval off his case (she was only teasing, but that made her brother paranoid). There is a reason for such behavior - while he is way too sweet and gentlemanly to suggest making sexy pics or, Supreme Guardian forgive, videos, he can't help but to be too whipped for you. 

This man dutifully saves every single photo and video of yours - nudes included.

You don't send them very often - you don't want to kill your darling husband. But sometimes the yearning is unbearable, and there is a suffocating need to show Gepard what he is missing while away on duty (you always leave a warning message though, so he could check it while alone and undisturbed).

No matter how red and embarrassed he gets, the man timidly admits that he enjoys this kind of attention. He is not beyond the earthly pleasures - he too has a favorite theme, that recently became more present in what you send him…

At first you looked so absolutely cute and domestic with his huge sweater on, the one you personally knitted for him - the beginning of the video didn’t look all that different from the photos you sent him just minutes before. But soon it becomes clear why you asked if he was alone, because once you position the phone and climb onto the bed, your full attire gets revealed. White stockings are replacing your usual home pants, and as your fingers grab the hem of the sweater and tug it up, the white panties from a matching set start peaking. The view is both pure and alluring, with the way your legs are spreading wide, and the sweater being pushed further up, baring your braless breasts. The hem gets secured between your teeth and both hands teasingly run down your sides, index fingers drawing circles around the tits, before squeezing them; as one remains right there, the other slowly slides down your stomach, disappearing under the hem of those flimsy panties. Imagination paints wild images - every next is hotter than the previous, and only your muffled moans of his name and rapidly rising chest are indicators of how good you feel with fingers pushing in and out of your pussy. And that damn sweater… You are not taking it off.

The Captain of the Silvermane Guards has one guilty pleasure - you, wearing his clothes. Domesticity, longing, finding comfort in something of his touches his heart and heightens his love and desire for you, almost making him consider taking a regular day off.

Jing Yuan

This man literally worships the ground his wife is walking on, so OF COURSE he wants to have as many pictures and videos of you as possible. It gets so boring and lonely when he is at work, after all. But don’t be fooled by his sweet and innocent smile, there are not only cute shots of you both or just you, he has sexy stuff too.

Man is obsessed with your chest. It’s his favorite pillow (thus so many pictures of him snuggling his face right between your breasts), his best stress-relief (photos and short videos of his big veiny hands cupping and squeezing your girls, with an occasional swipe of the thumbs over the erect nipples), his favorite place to leave marks on (no one can see them under the clothes, but just one tug of his finger on your collar and he is met with a delicious sight. Plus the photos he asks to send occasionally).

Loves, loves, loves, purchasing lingerie for you and when you demonstrate your bra-clad tits. He immediately wants them in his face, but there is the phone screen keeping him away.

But oh does he love recordings of playing with them.

Your body is steadily bouncing on your husband’s lap, creating a beautiful melody of skin slapping against skin. There is an occasional peak of his thick cock, covered in your juices, that immediately disappears again, undoubtedly swallowed by your pussy. One strong arm is wrapped around your waist, supporting you, while the other hand is palming at your left breast. The right one has fallen victim to his eager mouth, lips wrapped around the nipple, sucking on it tenderly, tongue toying with the overstimulated nub. His eyes are half-lidded when he looks up at you, moaning around your breast, when you tug on his luscious locks, trying to push him away, to give you a small rest. He is drawing back indeed, planting a soft kiss to the valley between the jiggling globes, and you sigh in relief, deceived by his affectionate action. Only for you back to arch and mouth hang in a loud moan, when Jing Yuan brings your other breast to his awaiting tongue, dropping both hands to your hips to aid you in speeding up your riding, sensing your nearing orgasm.

Maybe next time you should try recording him making you cum by playing with your chest only… Ah, just the thought makes his cock swell.

Loucha

As much as Loucha enjoys your company and more often than not allows you to accompany him in his journeys, there are times when he can’t take you with him. Which means he leaves for weeks, or sometimes a couple of months, going through the days without a single touch from you. Before getting into a relationship with you, he could survive without intimacy just fine, but now, since he knows the taste of affection and being spoiled by you, it’s getting hard.

That’s when recordings on his phone come in handy, especially when there is no opportunity of a video call to indulge. And there is one he most frequently returns to…

Your chest is rising and falling, pretty breasts with perky nipples brought together by a wrap of a rope. Red and purple marks bloom on your skin akin flowers, some fresh, some from days before. Sweat shines on your hot skin, indicating just for how long the blonde has been torturing you with pleasure and denial. There is a small shake of the video, as your lover is establishing his phone, having just started the recording, and softly making you aware of how good you look - you wouldn’t know with that blindfold covering your eyes. Once the angle is perfect - capturing your arms, tied above the head, the arch of your back and thighs pushed together for stimulation, the man is joining you on the bed. It is cock-hardening, how you lift your head to find his lips, when you sense him leaning down, needily allowing him to indulge in a kiss before the game of orgasm denial continues. His hand meanwhile is creeping down your body, starting with caressing your cheek, fingers sliding down your neck, over the swell of your breast, thumb pushing against the nipple, eliciting a moan out of you right into his mouth, and then palm splaying on your stomach, traveling even lower, before it disappears between your thighs.

Loucha is a man of foreplay. There is nothing more satisfying to him, than indulging into your body before sinking his cock into your warmth. He loves making you squirm, completely at his mercy, drawing you right to the edge, and then denying you the sweet release, just to make you yearn, just to stretch the process out.

Sampo Koski

Sampo is nasty and that is not a secret. I am sure, if you were up for it, he’d suggest filming porn just for the giggles (and extra cash, come on, you both are fucking hot). There are teasing nudes and intimate videos, and it’s not a rare occasion of either of you texting the other with some found porn with a caption ‘let’s try it?’ and you do, frequently recording the process to compare later, and claiming that your performance is better.

However, sometimes it tends to not go according to the script (not like you usually have one). Sampo is chaotic and it’s not hard to lose focus with a lover like him, and these exact moments are Koski’s favorite. Despite being a Masked Fool, during these times he himself looks so sincere, it’s as unnerving, as it is exciting. Rewatching such videos and seeing how you mirror the look in his eyes, giggle with him, even crack a joke, all without ruining the mood - makes him believe he’s found his soulmate (and if you did film porn with him, he’d never share this level of intimacy with your viewers, it solely belongs to you two).

You are giggling, shaking your head with a wide smile, all the while lying on your stomach between his toned mark-covered thighs and leisurely fisting his hard, leaking cock with an angrily red tip. 

‘Sampo, please, be a little serious, we are trying to be sexy here.’

‘We are sexy! What’s not hot in shaping my and your pubic hairs into the lips?? They could kiss, when we fuck!’

‘You are unbelievable,’ you snort, trying to save the last bits of your composure, and leaning forward to mouth at his tight balls. This makes your lover pornographically (how ironic) moan, throwing his head back.

‘Mmm, yes, right there~ Oooh… If am soooo unbelievable, it must mean I am dreamy? How about I bring you to a Penacony, to a Dreamscape? I bet in your dream I’d be as good in bed as I am in reality.’

Your resolve snaps and you burst out laughing, letting go of his sack and pressing your face to his thigh, shaking, dropping the hand from around his cock. Sampo whines.

‘Come ooooon, I was so close!’

‘Shu-ah-ha-t-ah-uh-p,’ you manage through your laughter. The man pouts, but the gaze of mint green is summer-warm as he is looking down at your trembling form. Your voice is pretty, your cackles are pretty, and oh damn he is laughing too.

And these are just the first few minutes of the last video, the thing has a duration of half an hour, so, obviously, you didn’t stop there. That’s what Sampo Koski loves - no matter how cringe you become, it’s never a reason to stop the whole process. If anything it’s something to spark an even longer and intimacy-filled one.

Sunday

Keeping personal stuff on his phone is quite dangerous, given Sunday’s position. That’s why he owns two phones - his work one, and one to mainly contact you, his sister, and a small circle of the most trusted people. He is extremely good at handling the owning of two separate devices, never mistaking one for another, that people are often convinced he has only one.

But it’s his personal cellphone that interests us. Oh, does he have a whole collection of photos and videos of you, one folder in particular hidden just for good measure. Sunday is a collected and regal man, yet it doesn’t mean he has a hard time enjoying your teasing. Quite contrary, sometimes he welcomes it, loving the photos you send him from an outing, shopping for clothes, or better yet, lingerie, sending him multiple shots of different sets and asking him which he loves most, and which he’d like to see on you tonight. 

There are videos too, especially when he’s been extremely busy, and you are oh so needy, sending him short recordings of touching yourself, sighing out his name, begging him to come and help you. However, there is one he particularly likes…

Big silicone cock is being pushed in and out by the machine he purchased for you to quell your need when your husband can’t be there for you. You are on your stomach, with hips slightly raised and pushed backwards, chasing the toy, and he can see the perfect outline of your pussy, outer lips swollen and puffy, covered in a sticky substance, opening and constricting in attempts to accommodate the girth. Your moans are sweet, so-so sweet, hitting a high pitch, when the dildo falls out and a thick glob of cum substitute escapes your pussy. And then another, and another, messing your thighs even more, ruining the towel underneath you. Yet you don’t stop, reaching behind, and pushing the tip back into your tight warmth, making the toy pick its pace again. It’s squelching, it’s so dirty, but it’s so hard to look away. You give yourself creampie, after creampie, sometimes stopping to collect the substance and push it inside with your digits, fingering, moaning and whining for your husband, wishing it’s his cum sploshing between your walls, breeding you.

Yes, it’s his favorite, almost 4-minute video. Ever the neat freak, he can’t deny you look heavenly when ruined, on an equally ruined bed, begging for his attention and semen. You have to forget about the machine for some time, however, because since then Sunday has been truly devoted to breeding you.

[moonsick-lovelight]

dude I don't even like valentine's day as a concept (BOO AMATONORMATIVITY BOOOOOOOO) but I can't even spend it with my gf bc she works so I hate it even more

[reyalvr]

SHE’S MINE | 00

CATCH ME, I’VE FALLEN IN LOVE FOR THE FIRST TIME.

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers.

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, chaotic fluff, smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan, RUMORS isn’t related to anything that happens in this series

word count ┊ 798

author’s note ┊ YAY i finally wrote it! i really love the fake dating/marriage convenience trope and i’ve been itching to write it with kenji. this is highly inspired by one my favorite books of all time, terms & conditions by lauren asher! if you enjoy fake dating i highly recommend reading it. as mentioned at the top, this is only the prologue! i'll be putting out part one and the series masterlist asap hehe... as always, happy reading!

prev. | next

SOMETIMES YOU WONDERED IF ANYTHING YOU SAID EVER STUCK WITH KEN. For the past year and a half, you had the supposed “dream life” that every assistant yearned for. It confused you, really, as you tried to ponder on what part of your job was envious. Were the late nights drafting NDA breaches so desirable? What about the press statements after altercations, were those résumé worthy? You let out a deep sigh as you watched Ken from the TV in his dressing room, crossing your arms as you sunk deeper into the couch.

He was on a press tour for his latest collaboration, his overconfident persona charming everyone left and right. You had to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes when he used his signature flair to charm the show’s host. At least he was sticking to the script… for the most part. He wore the product, threw in a few adlibs, and of course, flirted. Be it a talk show host or a random photographer on the street, Ken always found a way to leave people smitten with him- save except you. 

It’s not like you were actively trying to hate him, he just made it so easy. At first you thought it was just some awkward phase, like he was just trying to adjust to working with a new team. But then he just kept doing the same things over and over again. A brawl with an opposing team member? Just another Sunday night. A rumor about having a fling with yet another supermodel? Sounds just about right. 

“I mean of course I have to thank my team,” Ken’s voice cut through your train of thought. “It was a dream of mine to play for the Giants as a kid, now I actually get to do it.”

Tone it down, asshole. You thought to yourself, noting the sarcasm laced in his words. Of course the general public wouldn’t have caught on, but you had no doubt his coach and the other players would. Then again, he’d been relatively untouchable because of his rank in the sports world. You poked your tongue into your cheek, shaking your head as you sat through the rest of his interview. The clock on the wall counted down the remaining time, the bright red numbers casting a reflection on the screen. Two minutes left, and all he had to do was to keep the act up…

…Until he didn’t. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was about to happen next. 

“Now I don’t want to hold here any longer, but you know I have to ask it,” The host teased, almost like an overexcited child ready to tattle. “Any special someone back home?” 

Ken chuckled, just like he usually did when asked the question. “Cheeky question,” He paused and grinned, his eyebrow raised slightly as he shrugged his shoulders. “What if there was?” 

“Well, is there?” The host pushed, his tone eager to have the Ken Sato answer such a juicy question. He gestured toward the crowd before he continued. “I mean there are a lot of fans here today who would love to know more…” 

“Yeah? And if I said yes, then what?” He replied, his smile growing brighter and his eyes shining. 

The crowd cheered even harder, itching to find out the truth. You shared the same sentiments, trying to figure out what the hell Ken was up to now. Did he have a girlfriend? If he did, why didn’t anyone know about it? You stood up straight now, your right hand deathly gripping the remote. What the hell do you have up your sleeve, Kenji Sato? Your inner voice seemed to yell as you waited for him to speak up. 

“I mean only time will tell, yeah?” The host replied, leaning back in his seat. “C’mon Ken, it’s not nice to keep secrets.”

Ken mimicked the host’s moves, leaning back into his sofa chair as well. He shrugged his shoulders, licking his lips as he fiddled with his fingers. He bit the inside of his cheek, and though it was brief you caught it. You knew that look; his look of contemplation. Your grip on the remote was still taut as your breathing seemed to quicken the longer he waited. Granted it was only a few seconds, but those seconds felt like hours. 

He tilted his head slightly then, his eyes staring directly at the camera. It slowly zoomed closer to focus entirely on him, and he let out a small laugh before he finally replied. His gaze was strong, and it almost felt like he was actually looking at you.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” He finally said, throwing in a lovesick smile for good measure. “And she’s the best damn thing in my life right now.”

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

[peachsukii]

In an attempt to swing back into writing...

For softie Sunday, I'm thinking about Bakugo and reader dating casually in their mid 20s - they both have been through past relationship bullshit and are hoping that this time, it would be different with one another.

It's been a few months, nothing crazy, but he's been working nonstop. Like, three to four days of back to back rescues, emergencies, and normal patrols that have him exhausted beyond belief. You two haven't had a lot of time to spend together recently, and he hates it. Running out the door in the middle of dinner dates or movie nights at your apartment, it ate away at him that his relationship was taking a backseat in his life. That’s how his last one ended, and he was goddamn determined to not let it happen again.

You had tried to tell him to go home and rest, but his stubborn nature kicks in and refuses. He tells you he'll be at your place by seven and that he'll just shower at your place to save time. Bakugo arrives at your apartment and the exhaustion is evident in his demeanor. He greets you with a gruff "hey" before coming inside, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before unloading all of his stuff to the floor. Your apartment is cozy as always, feeling like a second home to him in such a short amount of time. As you ask him about his day, he just grumbles something under his breath and shakes his head. “Be done in 15. Go pick a movie.”

Bakugo’s walking down the hall to your bathroom with his bag over his shoulder, and the way his body looks too heavy for him weighs on your heart. He works so hard, and yet, refuses to have anyone help him in return. It’s a bit impulsive, but you follow behind him. He hears your footsteps and shoots a glance over his shoulder at you.

“What’re ya doin’?” He asks curiously.

You take another step toward him and smile, a hand resting on his back. “Let me help you.”

He’s too tired to protest, to sleep deprived to use any of his default defensive mechanisms to shoo you away. He thinks for a second and sighs. “Alright.”

And it’s not like you two haven’t seen each other naked before — hell no. You do that any chance you get. But this? It’s different. It’s a new kind of intimacy being explored. The two of you strip down and jump in the shower together, and you can tell immediately that Bakugo’s unsure what exactly you’re doing in there with him. That is, until you reach around him and grab some of your vanilla scented body wash, lathering it in your hands and start to rub his shoulders. The emotion hits him like a truck in his exhausted state, fight or flight kicking in to run from this…but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets you massage the soap all over his body for him, eyes closed and the tension melting away as your hands explore every aching muscle.

Just when he thinks you’re done, you start washing his hair for him, too. A wave of unfamiliar affection drowns out his urge to swat your hands away as he focuses on the softness of your hands, how gently you scratch at his scalp and that it feels goddamn fantastic to be taken care of like this. It flips a switch in him, finally relaxing under your touch. Bakugo doesn’t even realize when you’re done until you’re titling his head back under the stream of hot water to rinse it out for him.

He’s not sure what good deed he’s done to deserve you, but he’s not letting it slip through his fingers this time. And who knows? Maybe he is learning how to love, and be loved, again.

[hurtspideyparker]

Peter places an envelope on Tony's desk.

Tony looks up confused, "huh? What's that for?"

"It's for you," he points awkwardly at the plain blue envelope, held closed with a Darth Vader sticker.

"It's not my birthday kid." He snaps the protective face shield back down as he picks up his soldering iron, sparks flying as he gets back to work.

"I know that I, uh. It's from, it's for. It's yours. I gotta go, see you later Mr. Stark!" Peter hikes his backpack up tighter as he skips out of the lab.

Tony grunts in acknowledgement without looking up, eyes focused on the searing metal in front of him.

* * *

"Tony? I thought you were gonna have dinner with me after Peter left," Pepper saunters down into the workspace in a flattering pair of jeans and baby blue blouse.

"I was. I am. He left like five minutes ago," Tony waves at her without taking his eyes from the computer he's typing on.

"Happy drove him home two hours ago. Come, have a nice sit down meal with me." Pepper wraps her arms around his shoulders from behind, kissing the top of his head.

"I can have a sit down meal. I'm sitting right now, bring the carbonara down here and it'll be a proper date," Tony replies.

"Yeah, you me and your computer. How romantic. Tony, come upstairs- what's this?"

Tony glances up to see her holding a blue envelope.

"Uh, it's the kids."

Pepper flips it around, "it says To Mr. Stark From Peter on the back."

Tony just shrugs and goes back to typing on his computer.

The delicate glue of the sticker is undone under Pepper's sharp nails as she opens up the envelope and pulls something from inside.

"It's illegal to open someone else's mail y'know," Tony teases.

"Tony this- god you are such an asshole!" Pepper smacks Tony on the back of the head with the envelope.

"Ow! What the- what did I do now! I was just joking about the carbonara thing... mostly."

Tony finally meets Pepper's eyes of scorn. She tosses something in front of him with a huff.

"Tony, he even used a Darth Vader sticker. Do you know how adorably geeky and topical that is? You have got to start paying more attention to the living breathing people in front of you instead of your machines. Dinner is ready, please come upstairs."

Tony watches her leave as the clack of her heels fade away with every step. He's not sure what Darth Vader has to do with missing dinner, but he's quick to get up and start to follow.

He pauses before he makes it out the door, turning to finish the last line of code before he forgets the function. He pushes something off of his keyboard to type and press save.

Tony can't remember the last time he looked up from his work long enough to consume solid food. He's so ready to carb-load with some Italian food, turning away from the computer and blue envelope.

Tony's eyebrows furrow. Hm. Darth Vader sticker.

Tony turns back around and picks up the envelope from beside his keyboard.

This must be what the kid was yapping about earlier. Tony sticks his hand inside and finds a card, pulling it out.

"Father's Day it is," the front says in bold lettering with a picture of Yoda crudely hand-drawn with a sharpie and green highlighter. Tony flips it open, "celebrate you we must" is written in the middle of the page.

Below is a message in smaller writing; "Thank you for everything Mr. Stark, we wouldn't be here without you!" with a blob of sharpie that looks suspiciously like it's scribbled out a small heart, then signed "From Peter, Dum-E and U" each name written in their own unique handwriting.

"Friday, what day is it?"

"It is Sunday June 16th, also celebrated as Father's Day in countries such as the United States, Canada, and the UK."

Hm.

Tony stands there and stares at the card for longer than he'd ever admit before looking up at Dum-E.

"You help with this?" he asks, pointing at the card.

Dum-E chirps happily, twirling his claw around.

"Your hand writing's terrible."

* * *

Peter enters the lab slowly, an unsureness to him that's out of character.

It's Wednesday, his usual day for coming over to Tony's workshop. He hasn't heard anything from Tony since Sunday, not that he usually does. Still, the quietness has unnerved him. He's not sure what he was even expecting from his mentor; silence is probably the nicest response he could hope for after embarrassing himself like that.

"Hi Mr. Stark," he greets once he spots the older man sitting next to a complicated tangle of wires.

"Hey kid, can you go to the computer and run the command I have open for me?"

"Sure thing!" Peter says as he dumps his backpack onto the floor and jogs over.

The two get into an easy rhythm and Peter's practically forgotten why he was nervous in the first place when, "hey grab us some sodas will you," Mr. Stark asks him.

Peter walks up to the fridge in the corner of the room when he notices something new.

In the center of the silver metal lies a single piece of paper, stuck to the refrigerator with a plain magnet seemingly scrapped from some old hardware in the lab.

Tony has his Father's Day card displayed like some dorky parent whose kid got a half-decent report card, showcased on a fridge like a toddler's finger painted masterpiece.

It makes Peter so happy he can't wipe the stupid grin off his face the entire time he's grabbing sodas and delivering one to Tony.

The older hums a thanks without looking away from his project, but as Peter turns away Tony's own face contorts into a pleased smile all of his own.

The two share identical smiles all afternoon, hidden behind soda cans and computer screens.

[merakiui]

LONELY ESTATE.

sunday x (female) reader cw: nsfw, marking (hickeys), slight possessiveness from sunday, alcohol/intoxication, toxic exes, adultery, background marriage of convenience, an au wherein most of the canon is ignored in favor of plotless smut, all you really need to know is that sunday is still hopelessly whipped for you note - you and sunday are over—have been for many years. all it takes is one drunken mistake to rekindle a dangerous flame that should have been extinguished long ago. or: sunday invites his ex to his wedding. that goes about as pleasantly as you can imagine. // listen to cailin russo's 'lonely estate' if you would like extra vibes!! :D

If there’s one thing that trumps Sunday’s detestation of you, it’s his unshakable sense of duty towards his station. He takes immense care to craft a respectable image for the public, meticulously weaving words and actions together to become a pristine and untouchable chrysalis. Almost like a marble statue, perfection sculpted in his likeness. When you were dating, he used to echo the same advice: “A pleasant impression impacts one’s reputation and, by extension, the organization, occupation, and company one chooses to keep. You would do well to remember that.”

And remember you have.

It’s been eight years since you broke it off with him, but even now you hear his voice ringing loud and clear whenever you aren’t up to par with the standards you set for yourself. What can be worse than the voice of your own harsh critic? A voice that sounds remarkably like your ex-boyfriend, much to the consternation of your peace, and he’s so very keen to scrutinize every detail of your life.

You were hoping to save yourself a run-in with him, but the world (and Sunday) hates you. By the good grace of an invitation, you find yourself attending his wedding as a mostly unwilling guest. And it’s only because you’re doing the same thing he does: save face, lift your reputation, network��a brutal cycle.

That birdbrain was your initial thought when you skimmed the words cordially invite you to the wedding of Sunday Oak, and you immediately felt scammed somehow. He went and got married before I could, and now I have to sit in the audience and congratulate him. Gross.

So now you’re here, having sat through the ceremony and an obnoxious amount of platitudes, artfully dodging questions of, “You look familiar. Where do I remember you from?” You’re wearing a skin that’s only semi-immune to self-importance and schemes: a strapless black dress that wraps around your body like a smothering embrace. A matching choker is fastened around your throat. You don’t have glittering gems and pretty pearls, so costume jewelry fills in for what’s deceptive enough to pass as opulent authenticity.

This is the type of wedding that makes the headlines. Massive news for a massive event! Powerful people strut about and mingle in the ballroom beneath a coruscating chandelier, preening like peacocks when their feathers are smoothed out with obsequious flattery. You don’t fit in with anyone here. It’s another world—a world you’re relieved to have left behind all those years ago.

That was always the crux of your dynamic with Sunday. The imbalance. Different worlds. Different values. Different, different, different. And not the kind in which you make it work, fitting together like imperfect puzzle pieces in spite of difficulty—that love conquers all nonsense. Rather, it was the type of difficulty that’s reminiscent of oil and water. An impossible mixture.

No matter what, nothing seemed to blend. You’d melt into each other, but the physical and emotional amalgamation wouldn’t stick.

The fact of the matter? Sunday was primed for success ever since his and Robin’s adoption into the illustrious Oak Family. On the other side of the coin, you were primed for struggle and survival. For a litany of temporary work, a galactic hole wrenched open in your heart since your first failure, and as a result you continue to climb an unsteady ladder in search of a way to slice that pesky prefix off. Steady. You want to know what that’s like. At one point, you thought you wanted to know that bliss with Sunday. Not anymore, though.

This world is suffocating and reeks of too-expensive colognes that cloy like rot, and it’s bright in here—a blinding sort of light that sears through your eyelids to chisel away at your irises. You can’t endure another minute here.

I’ve played my part, you think, performing a sly sweep of the room. I applauded with the audience, I left my gift with the rest, and I’m telepathically sending good vibes. Time to make my grand escape.

You weave around a marble pillar, confident in the curtain call, only to stop short at the sight of an old nuisance standing just beyond the cluster of people cluttered between you—literally and symbolically, forever worlds apart. And grand your escape would have surely been had he not had the conscience to look your way at that exact moment. You watch as he excuses himself from his previous conversation, and then he’s maneuvering seamlessly around the crowd like a shark fin cutting through deep blue. They part with ease, offering him smiles and congratulations in succession.

Before you can think of running, he’s standing right in front of you.

“Miss (Name), good evening.”

“If it isn’t the man of the hour!” You flash more teeth than lip when you smile, the worst fake you’ve ever tried to force. “Congrats.”

Amusement crinkles the corners of eyes. “Are you enjoying the party? I must say it’s an unexpected surprise to see you here.”

“Coming from the guy who put me on the list, I highly doubt that.” You pluck a champagne flute from a passing waiter and school your temper into rehearsed refinement. “But it’s a very nice event, yes. I’m enjoying myself.” And then because you can’t help it, “The most handsome man in Penacony—married. Wow! Big news. What a dream. So happy for you.”

Every word is spoken with great strain.

Lifting the glass to meet ruby-red lips, you hold his aureate stare and take a long sip from the fizzy beverage. It crackles at the back of your throat in an explosion of aromatic alcohol. Sunday studies this display with a strange intensity, his gaze flicking from your face to your mouth, and then he settles on the lipstick staining the rim of the glass. Despite his phlegmatic placidity, a mask measured to muddle the manipulation lying just beneath the surface, you’re trained in Sunday’s tactics. If there’s anyone who can navigate these sides of him—the control and coercion, every unsavory facet—it’s you.

He breathes out a gentle laugh. “You’ve never possessed a penchant for dishonesty, especially not the successful sort.”

And if there’s anyone who can see through to your very soul, perceptive to a point, it’s your ex. He knows all of your best and worst qualities just as you know all of his, and much like the symbolism in wearing all black to a wedding celebration you’re a stain on his past.

It was a first relationship that was swiftly swept under dozens of metaphorical rugs. And if you’re ever brought up in conversation it’s always the angelic, can-never-do-anything-wrong Family head with his undesirable ex-girlfriend. 

“Look, this has been cute—all of this.” You gesture with your glass. Liquid gold almost sloshes over the rim. If any speckles your outfit, you can’t tell. The droplets are devoured by the dark void of your dress. “But I have places to be. Congrats again on the wedding.”

With a casual wave of your hand, you swivel around on your heel and take one step forward. His next words freeze you in place.

“Sardonic as usual. How could your most lovable trait slip my mind?” There’s a catty edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. Childish, almost, as if your very existence brings out the immaturity from all those years ago. Perhaps it’s still there and, rather than maturing, he just learned how to hide it. “How keenly you flee.”

Your fingers tighten around the slim stem of your glass, and for a beautiful moment you picture Sunday’s neck in its place. And then the spell breaks and you’re left to pivot sharply, a monstrous sneer cutting into your cheeks.

“Funny. If I recall, someone once said it’s what I do best. I guess I’m living up to the legend, huh, Sunday?”

“Nothing if not predictable, even at your most troublesome. It is as endearing as it is frustrating.”

“Ugh. Don’t you have a new wife to cozy up to? Or people to let stroke your ego? Go bother one of them. I’m not in the mood.”

“I couldn’t possibly do that. As host, it would be poor manners on my part to neglect a guest.”

The way he pronounces guest makes you think he wants to swap the word for a more fitting title, one that rhymes, but he refrains from doing so. Still, the hidden description brands itself onto your brain. Pest. Pest. Pest.

That’s all you really are to one another nowadays. A pest from the past. Thankfully, the feeling is mutual.

“Aren’t you oh-so-considerate?”

His smile does not add any shine to his already lightless eyes. To stave off the awkward, near-nuclear tension, you down the rest of your champagne. Sunday’s focus drifts once more, lingering squarely on your tongue as it darts out to wet your lips. You take notice of this and level him with a stern frown.

“Don’t jeopardize your marriage by being so obvious, or you might find yourself in the early stages of divorce. Be careful, birdbrain.”

As you brush past him, you catch his mumblings.

“As if I would fall for such blatant temptation. It’s simply unbecoming. Reckless behavior befitting that of utter fools.”

With that, Sunday flattens nonexistent wrinkles on his perfect suit and steps back into the crowd. You beeline right for the refreshments. If it’s a party on the Oak Family’s Credits, you’re determined to depart with a stomach full of fancy food and bubbly beverages.

No harm in letting loose tonight, you think. No work, no worries, no obligations. It’s a Sunday. Make the most of it before Monday.

Hours later, clutching a plate piled high with tiny cakes and skewers of cheese and fruit, you sway out of the ballroom. Diffidence cast aside, your body warm and wired with a giggly sort of inebriation, you stagger-walk until the music and thunderous din of too many conversations flushes out into a distant muffle. It takes a few more turns and a silly moment of mistaking your left from your right before you realize you are not nearing the exit. Instead, you’re just putting more space between the outside and yourself.

It’s quiet and cold in this hall, peaceful like the grave. Shadows settle in corners and beneath curtains. Maybe you’d find yourself unsettled if it weren’t for the snacks in hand. They distract you from any encroaching haunts.

The Oak Family Manor is more labyrinthine than you remember, but then it’s been years since you stepped foot in these walls. 

“Damn. Where the fuck is the exit?” you mutter, licking buttercream from your fingers. “This stupid house…”

Your surroundings tilt and blur in a dizzying splotch of color and shapes. You set your plate down on a half-moon table and grab at the wall for support. The motion of the world seems to settle momentarily like aquarium gravel sinking in a fishbowl.

And then a gentle voice slices through eerie tranquility: “Miss (Name), you’re lost.”

Forcing your eyes open, you cast your gaze over your shoulder. He looks like pure light in his white suit, a comparison that instantly sours in your stomach and darkens the drunken innocence scrawled on your face.

I must be in Hell if this is what they’re calling an angel.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“I’m flattered by your heartwarming greeting. Even when you’re three sheets to the wind, you always captivate me with your…unique ways of interaction, to put it lightly.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” Straightening yourself out, you cover the distance to reach him, heels clicking in time with your heartbeat, and jab a manicured finger at his chest. “You…”

With the tattered remains of your pride on the line, you refuse to admit your tipsy brain led you to who-knows-where inside your ex’s house. So instead you stare until the beginnings of a wry smile play at the corners of his mouth. He seems thoroughly entertained with your ineffective attempt at feisty intimidation. Wobbly as your legs are, you stand your ground and poke at his chest. The right words will come to you eventually. You’re sure of it.

Sunday’s slender fingers wrap around your wrist, preventing you from barraging his pristine suit with your immature prodding.

“Well?” he encourages. “You were saying?”

You examine his features for a long time—longer than what would be considered normal if you had your wits about you—and throw your head back to groan.

“You’re so irritating and you never shut up.”

“And you are stubborn to the core, hopelessly so. Shall I continue listing more of your flaws just as you have demonstrated them, or would you like a chance to defend yourself? I’m certain eight years is more than enough time for adequate self-improvement, but judging by your current state it appears nothing’s changed.”

He cuts you down with such a soft, matter-of-fact tone. You understand better than anyone why the absurdity of marriage could never apply to you and him.

Now properly irked, you try to pull your wrist free. Mischief curls his smile into that of a self-satisfied smirk. He holds firm—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to keep you still. If you weren’t so drunk, you’d realize he’s not really trapping you at all. It’s the type of grasp that would loosen immediately if you put just a smidge of force into ripping yourself free, and even then that would make your non-struggle appear laughable and feeble.

“Shouldn’t you be nicer to your guests? As a guest, this sort of behavior is simply unbecoming from the host,” you complain, mimicking him to the best of your ability.

“Well, I find it’s similarly unbecoming for a guest to carelessly overindulge and wander aimlessly in areas she doesn’t belong. That is to say, Miss (Name), it’s not very nice to explore a house without the homeowner’s permission. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Not my fault your house is dumb and big!” Puffing your cheeks out in a petulant pout, you finally tear your arm away. There’s no resistance on his part. “Just show me the exit and I’ll be out of your life for good, and we’ll never have to put up with each other again.”

With a tut, Sunday shakes his head at you like you’re a particularly stupid child who’s missed the lesson in a lecture. It’d be worse if he waggled his finger in your face and left you with an equally pettish, “Nuh-uh.”

“Or I could resolve to leave you here, disoriented as you are, to wander my house like a little lost, liquor-addled mouse.”

“Oh, please. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Sadistic…” The rest of your grumbling dies on your tongue. “Whatever. I don’t need your help.”

You intend to storm off and search for the exit on your own, but vertigo catches up to you and drags you back to a more humble stage. Again, you cling to the wall to steady yourself. Only unlike before you can’t bear to stay on your feet and so you slide slowly down the wall to sit on the ground, your legs folding up into your chest. With a defeated moan, you rest your forehead on your knees and pray for the world to stop twirling.

“Go back to your hoity-toity party and your pretty wife and your fancy food. I’ll find my way out.” You shoo him away with a limp hand motion.

Sunday remains silent, but you know he’s still there. You can feel his presence like a splinter wedged under your skin.

“You can hardly walk, let alone lift yourself off the ground. You’re about as stable as a baby bird learning to fly. Where exactly do you think you’re going to go in this state?”

“Home,” is your flat reply. And then you lift your head to peer at him through your lashes. “What do you care whether I can walk or not?”

Sunday crouches to your height to closely observe your glazed eyes, the part of your lips, the rise and fall of your chest. A cautious calculation passes over his face, waltzing elegantly through gold hues to form a pinched frown beneath his nose. A stagnant beat stretches between you and him. You know that blank slate of a look, inscrutable to even the most experienced detective. He’s practicing his words in his head, deciding which is an appropriate response. As his former partner, you’ve got a leg up on anyone hoping to solve the enigmatic Sunday. It’s a blessing and a curse.

“I don’t care. Not particularly. But it would be irresponsible to leave a guest—my ex-girlfriend—dead on her feet in a dark hallway. It wouldn’t look very good for me or the Oak Family.”

“Riiight. How could I forget? Always reputation first for the oh-so-flawless Head of the Oak Family.” A smirk sits slanted on your face. You tilt your head at him, coy. “No one’s gonna care about me. I’m not famous or rich or part of some influential family. Don’t pretend like it matters.”

I don’t matter. Not here.

Having taken umbrage at your remark and all that is left unsaid, he draws back. There’s a noticeable shift in his demeanor. Gloomy, maybe. Brooding? You can’t place it, but somehow you’ve nudged a sensitive subject.

“Perhaps my initial assessment of your character was lacking. You’ve an infuriating proclivity for getting under my skin. You always have—even now when you’re at your most vulnerable, you remain a perpetual pain in my side.”

“You sure don’t mince your words.”

His wings rustle, feathers and feelings ruffled. “I should commend your talent.”

“Gee, how nice. Hollow words from a hollow man. I’m honored.” But then you turn serious—or about as serious as you can get when you’re stupid-drunk—and lower your voice conspiratorially. “You should get back to your party. Won’t look very good if someone catches prim and proper, married-man Sunday with his ex in a dark hallway, all alone. Think of the ruuumors.”

You giggle because it’s funny. Not really, but it kind of is. Just a little.

What is funny, though, is the way Sunday stiffens, his jaw clenched tightly in disapproval. There’s only so much pushing he can take before he falls, a perfect statue chipped away and crumbling.

He kneels directly in front of you. “Do you intend to start a needless disagreement, or is the alcohol doing that for you?”

“Dunno.” You lean in closer without thinking and challenge him with a grin. “Wanna find out?”

Inches apart now, this newfound proximity doesn’t immediately dawn on you. Sunday hesitates, very obviously working out the underlying meaning to your snark.

“You would be ill-advised to play inane games with me, Miss (Name). I’m inclined to be merciless on account of the trouble you’ve caused and will inevitably cause should you continue this charade.”

“That makes two of us,” you whisper, shrugging off the thorny threat twined through his words. “Because I play to win.”

Acting purely on inebriated impulse, you grab hold of his suit and yank him towards you. Sunday stumbles and reaches out with his palms to catch himself against the wall. You close the gap and smash your mouth against his, leaving Sunday so stunned, in fact, that he can’t seem to function for a flickering moment. As if something in his brain was rewired when you touched him. There’s a sliver of hesitation, a brief separation, but then his hands peel away from the wall to seize your hips. The rest of your startled gasp is swallowed when he drags you closer, his reciprocation feverish and fervent, as if he’s waited ages to fulfill this fantasy.

Surprise slides into sensuality. You grab at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him, your lips meshing sloppily. Your lipstick smears in the process, but the messy state you must surely be in doesn’t cross your mind then. Nothing truly does when your teeth click together and he licks into your mouth like he’s trying to taste the syrupy secrets at the back of your throat. 

In an effort to have an iota of control over the situation, half-mad with barely suppressed desire, Sunday hitches one of your legs around his waist and presses inward, his body caging you against the wall. The sudden shift in position leaves you scrabbling for a new handhold, and your fingers dig into his previously smooth suit coat, now half-shucked, his shirt wrinkled and coming untucked. You jerk away to catch your breath.

Neither of you says anything, choosing to challenge the other with a scary amount of vehemence. Yours is notably dazed, drifting down to the way your clothed bodies connect. Sunday’s attention is pinned solely on your bedraggled appearance—your mouth, to be precise, and then your eyes. Your fascinating, fervor-glazed eyes.

Sunday snaps back to himself when you palm at the tent in his trousers. His wings fold in front of his face, as if to obscure his flushed expression. An impish grin blossoms on your lips.

“This is a first. You didn’t cum right away. With your weak dick, I would’ve thought you’d be a mess already.”

He looks at you, unimpressed by your vulgarity. “That was many years ago. I do believe I’m due for some level of leniency.”

“You’re the only guy I’ve ever known who cums from kissing. So easy,” you tease, hooking your arms around his neck to coax him closer. “It’s cute. The only part of you that’s honest.”

He does not deign to offer any sort of defense. Instead his hands wander over your thighs, hiking your dress further up to expose the plush, bare skin beneath. 

“Troublesome,” he chides and rocks against you, to which you respond in kind by grinding down against him. The friction leaves both of you shuddering. So close, yet still so cavernous. “Quite the corrupting influence.”

“Am I the best corrupting influence you’ve ever had?” you ask around a giggle.

Sunday exhales through his nose. “The worst. But also the most tempting.”

Somehow that sends a bolt of giddy energy through you, and you lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth. In your wake, a faint lipstick print is stamped onto pale skin. Sunday’s mouth falls open in silent protest. Something seems to register in his brain then because his awe slithers away into a stormy sort of disapproval. As if this mark is somehow worse than everything else the two of you have done.

“Messy. Always so messy,” he gripes.

“Oops. Sorryyy,” you whine, drawing the empty apology out. Gently, you take hold of his face and scrub it away with your thumb. Enticed by the smudges on your own lips, Sunday stares.

“Don’t apologize. I’m certain it looks quite striking on me.”

“Does it? I think it looks better on me. Red’s not really your color.”

He parts from you only momentarily to slide his gloves from his hands. Like the tide, he returns to meet your shore. The heat of your bodies is volcanic, and his hands sear your skin when he roams with ravenous fingertips. As if this is the only opportunity he’ll have to explore territory that was once charted. As if you might slip between his fingers like crystal-clear water in an oasis. Like you’re nothing more than a fleeting dream.

His mouth at your ear, he murmurs his taunt, “You’re right. The color of passion suits you well.”

“Less passion and more anger whenever I think of you.”

Laughter rattles in his chest. The snipe isn’t nearly as backhanded as you wanted it to sound. The syllables and semantics are slurred, scattered like raindrops fogging a windowpane.

“I ought to do something about that messy, misbehaving mouth of yours…”

“Yeah? And what’re you gonna do?”

“A few things come to mind. Care to guess?”

“Surprise me.”

His hands settle above your waist, almost folding over the expanse of your stomach. If he wasn’t so shackled to his restraint, you’d think he’d grab hold of your dress and yank it down to reveal your braless breasts for his starving eyes. Somehow he manages to reel himself in and chooses to greedily explore the slope of your neck and shoulder instead. One of his hands reaches up so that he can hook his fingers around your choker.

“There is beauty in simplicity. A pity it seems to decorate you so naturally. I could offer you a far more exquisite collar and then you would be unmistakably mine,” he murmurs, mouthing at sensitive skin like it’s an old habit he can’t shake. Maybe you’d tug his wings in admonishment for remembering all of your weak zones, for the mewl that’s ripped from your throat is so pornographic it has both of you taking pause.

“Stop… Stop talking.”

Sunday hums and consoles you with a playful nip to your neck. Warm, moist kisses trail along the length of it until he locates another spot—the same one he once lavished with love many years ago when you were both young and dumb and exorbitantly affectionate in private. You turn your head to offer more of your exposed neck. While he sucks at your bare shoulder, moving steadily over to your collarbone once he’s pleased with the bruise bitten into a previously unmarked canvas, you grab at his jacket. Sunday shrugs out of it with minimal difficulty, and the article is cast on the glossy floor in a forgotten heap.

Your breathing grows shallow, spotted with the occasional moan. They’re soft in Sunday’s ears, tickling like the very feathers protruding from behind his ears.

“More… Keep going,” you whine, hooking your other leg around his waist and yanking him closer. You grind against him, desperate to feel more of him. “Please, Sunday��”

His hands halt beneath your dress, and he lifts his head to study you, caught off-guard by your pleading. And then his features smooth out with surprising fondness.

“Of course,” he whispers around a gentle chuckle. “For you, my dear, I would do anything.”

Your legs are adjusted so that he can lean over you with ease, and when he captures your waiting lips in another hedonistic kiss you drag him down so that he can melt into you on the floor. Something sticks then. A sentiment unearthed. You’re not sure what it is.

You don’t get to find out, for the night and its pleasures finally catch up to you and the intoxication pulls you deeper into the shadows of unconsciousness.

The afternoon sun is high in the sky when you finally emerge from dreamless slumber, your body tacky and gross. Rubbing the crust from your eyes, you roll over onto your back and glance at the ceiling. Crapulence drapes itself over your heavy form like a shroud. In fact, you feel dead as you lie there on the bed, in an unfamiliar room that feels more like a morgue despite its homely furnishings.

And then the realization sinks into the marrow of your bones.

The ceiling. The bed. The silken sheets. The room. None of this is in your home and it wouldn’t be.

This isn’t your home.

Slowly, you sit up and feel the cushy mattress beneath your palm. Despite the fog clouding last night’s events, you manage to wade through most of it to reach a worrying conclusion.

Calm down. It could be worse.

You got drunk. That’s an easily proven fact, if the hangover currently kicking your ass is worth anything.

You tried to leave the party, but you took too many wrong turns and found yourself lost. You remember that because the journey filled you with so much irritation. So many memories etched onto the walls of that mansion—memories you were hoping to never revisit.

You ran into your ex-boyfriend, and he said something about mice or mazes… It’s so hazy, but whatever it was you’re sure it was nonsense.

And then…Sunday.

And then Sunday.

Sunday.

In a panicked rush, you pat yourself all over in search of any sign—an imprint or a mark or a scratch. Hell, even a scent! You sniff at your wrist and arm as if you’re going to find him there. Evidence of something very, very bad. You’re still wearing your panties and your dress isn’t in tatters on the floor. That’s a good sign.

“Fuuuck!” you hiss, grabbing at your face.

I hooked up with my ex. With my married-man ex! 

It could be worse? Correction: It is worse.

Before you can wallow in your internal self-flagellation any longer, a knock at the door breaks your concentration. Your heart drops down to your stomach. Scrambling like a headless chicken, you gather bunches of the duvet and hold them protectively in front of you. Fluffy defense.

Should I pretend to be asleep? Dead? Should I jump out this window and make a run for it?

“Come—” you cringe at the rustiness of your voice and clear your throat— “C-Come in!”

Please don’t be Sunday. Please don’t be Sunday. It’s a Monday, so it can’t be Sunday. Please, please, please.

The knob twists and the door opens, revealing the last man you want to see right now.

He stands in the doorway, simply watching you, after which he steps inside and shuts it behind him. His unsmiling features are much too impassive for you to discern anything other than perfect neutrality. Silence thickens in the room, and if it could take on the characteristics of smog you’re sure it would choke you. Awkwardly, you curl your fingers into the blankets and meet his cloudy stare.

You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat, or maybe that’s his heartbeat. Maybe both of your hearts are going at speeds so wild their resonance is an echo of a war drum. You’ve no idea what to say. Should you feign ignorance, pretend none of this happened even though it so clearly did?

This is bad. This is so bad.

Seconds stretch into minutes. You think you might have to break this ridiculous staring contest, but Sunday beats you to it.

“You’re finally awake. I was beginning to wonder how long you’d stay bundled up in bed.”

There’s a trace of exasperation. You understand what he’s really trying to say: You’ve overstayed your welcome. Make yourself scarce.

And he doesn’t need to be cordial anymore. Not when you’re both accustomed to the other. You’re not a guest anymore. The party has ended. Now you’re more like a trespasser or a particularly stubborn stain.

“You demon,” you snap, scowling at him.

His eyes narrow. If looks could kill, you’d be dead, revived, double-dead, and then reincarnated all so he could do it again.

“You seemed to think otherwise last night.”

Your flinch betrays your oblivious nature. Steeling yourself, you attempt to plead your case. “That… About that. It was a mistake. Obviously. It shouldn’t have happened. I won’t tell if you won’t, okay? I was drunk and…” You decide right then that you can’t do this, so you throw the covers off, hastily pull your dress down to its appropriate length, and reach for your purse and heels—both sitting patiently near the vanity desk. “I should go.”

Sunday’s eyes follow you like an immovable, haunted portrait. Just before you can stuff your feet into your heels, he reaches out. His hand falls upon your shoulder, and for a single second you think you should just log out of life.

“One moment. We have something to discuss.”

Not a suggestion. A command, spoken in that deceptively patient intonation.

“Right… No, yeah. You’re right. Okay.”

You peel his hand off of you and return to the bed, lowering to sit on the very edge. He steps in front of you and blocks your view of the door.

He gives you a stoic once-over before asking, “How much do you remember from last night? You must speak honestly. I’ll know if you lie.”

Like I’m in any position to lie right now, you birdbrain.

Shame bubbles in your heart like molten magma. You cringe all the way through the confession. “I drank too much and wandered off in search of an exit, but I got lost and then you were there. I think we talked. I don’t know. All I know is that one thing led to another and we kissed. And you…” You catch your reflection in the mirror then and notice the kaleidoscope of marks on your neck. Immediately, courage flaring up, you round on him. “You!”

Springing up from the bed, you point an accusatory finger at his chest. “What the fuck were you thinking?! You’re a married man! Freshly married. Not even twenty-four hours married!”

The clouds in his eyes shift into impenetrable murkiness. “If I recall, you were the one to kiss me. I’m hardly deserving of all the blame.”

“That’s great, but one tiny detail. I was drunk. And furthermore you didn’t have to reciprocate!” The horror from before returns. You feel along your body. “We didn’t. We… We didn’t, right? Go all the way, I mean. Tell me we didn’t.”

It takes him a second too long to utter a single word. You don’t like that.

“No,” he replies, but you’re not convinced. “We didn’t go all the way.”

“You’re sure?”

“Verily.”

You regard him dubiously for another moment, but eventually the doubt ebbs away and you heave a relieved sigh. “All right. Good to know. Let’s take our part of the blame, apologize, and put this mess behind us.”

“You make a valid point. Seeing as we’re both equally at fault, shall we resolve to forgive and forget?”

“Yes. Exactly that.” You stand from the bed, but this time it’s the stabbing pain in your head that stops you. “Fuck, this hangover sucks!”

“Don’t push yourself. You should take it one step at a time. You’re likely dehydrated, hungry, and still clinging to the vestiges of whatever remains from last night. Be careful not to trip over yourself.”

“Gee, thanks for your insincerity.”

Sunday rolls his eyes. “My sincerest apologies if I’m not falling to my knees with sympathy.” He folds his arms over his chest and frowns at you. “It seems you never do learn. Once more I’m left to put up with your antics.”

“I’m not asking you to. I can take care of myself,” you mutter, forcing your feet into your heels. “Just show me the way out of your labyrinth home and you’ll never have to ‘put up with my antics’ ever again.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Well, I’m not staying. You’ve lost your mind if you think that’s what I’m gonna do. No way am I gonna be a homewrecker. Fuck that!”

“You’re not staying, but I refuse to let you stumble out of here looking a right mess in your current state. Until you can comport yourself properly, you’re not leaving.”

“Oh my—geez, you’re insufferable! How does anyone put up with you? How did I put up with you?” You smack your hand to your forehead and groan. “I can’t believe out of everyone—of all the ex-boyfriends it had to be you.”

“Ah, I understand. This is quite the inconvenience for you, is it? The fault lies with me for being such an insufferable wretch.” Sarcasm drips from every syllable like venom. “Perhaps you should choose a less insufferable ex-boyfriend to sink your teeth into.”

You send him a foul look. “So glad we’re on the same page.”

“Gracious…” He sighs. “To think it was possible to forget just how much work you are.”

“And I forgot how much of an ass you were. Oh, sorry. Still are.” You rake your hands through your hair. “I can’t believe I actually kissed you. What was I thinking? I wasn’t! Ugh… This is the worst.”

“You should learn not to overindulge at formal events. Conduct yourself accordingly next time.”

“And you should learn not to kiss your ex-girlfriend back! Who was it who said I was the ‘most tempting’ influence?”

“You…” He scoffs and tries again. “You initiated it. I merely did my duty as a good host and reciprocated.”

“You were the one who put my legs around your waist! What was that about?”

Sunday bristles at that. His cheeks flare with heat and his wings shudder. “That—” He stops himself to string together a coherent excuse. “That was a natural reaction to your… Ahem. It was nothing more than a rash move on my part.”

“I’m not gonna argue and play the blame game with you. Whatever it was, it happened and there’s not going to be a repeat.”

Upon hearing that, a half-smirk settles on his face. “There won’t be a repeat. I’m a married man now.”

You gaze at him, unamused. “My condolences.”

His smirk widens. “I assure you my delightful wife is happy and content. She will want for nothing.”

“Good for you. Both of you, in fact. Congrats,” you grind out. “And when Wifey makes a little mistake and cheats, it’ll all cancel out. That two-negatives-make-a-positive shit. She kisses someone and you tongued it with me. You’ll be even and free of guilt.”

Sunday scoffs. “Your irreverent reasoning is not appreciated. Do not trivialize a serious situation.”

“What? You want me to make it harder than it already is? Is that it?”

“It’s not nearly as simple as ‘canceling out,’ as you’ve put it. A kiss holds a certain level of significance. You shouldn’t dismiss it so flippantly.”

“You should if you’re drunk and there weren’t any feelings and—right, how could I forget?—when it’s with your ex!”

“It’s not that easy,” he asserts, his voice straining.

“Why? What makes it so difficult? Enlighten me.”

“There are feelings involved… Emotions.”

“Lust is the only valid emotion in this situation. What else could there be? What other emotions?”

“It’s…complicated. You were drunk and I was swept up in the moment. That’s all.”

“Doesn’t sound all that complicated when you phrase it like that.”

“We were both slightly under the influence.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why do you care so much?” he asks, turning the verbal knife on you.

“I don’t care.”

“You clearly do. A fraction of you does, at least, considering you’re so hellbent on pushing this matter.”

“It was a stupid mistake and it’s never happening again. You’re married, and I’m going to go back to my life and pretend all of this—” you gesture between him and yourself— “never happened. End of story. I’m done pushing.”

“You intend to move on?” he questions, a scintilla of skepticism hiding within those words. “Just like that?”

“Precisely like that.” You scowl at your face in the mirror and wipe at the lipstick smudged on your jaw. Dragging your purse onto the desk, you fish through it for the tube to reapply a fresh coat.

Sunday affords you a few precious seconds of silence and then he opens his mouth.

“You’re an appalling liar.”

“Brilliant deduction, detective.”

You twist the tube shut and retrieve a bottle of concealer to dress the marks from last night. Leaning towards the mirror, you work hastily to apply layer after layer. Enough to put them out of your mind for the commute home.

“It won’t take a detective to understand that your attempt at feigning nonchalance is not working in your favor.”

“Obviously! It pisses me off that it had to be you.” You tilt your head to examine the stretch of your neck. “You just had to mark me all over… Damn devil.”

In the mirror Sunday watches you carefully, enchanted by the way you stroke the little brush along your skin and blot out every bad lust bite. Because you can’t call them love bites when they weren’t put there with love and care. Or maybe they were. You’ll never know and you don’t want to.

The gloom dissipates in his gaze once you’ve covered all of them. But then the breath sticks in his throat when you, without warning, lift your dress to check for more. His eyes are drawn to your inner thighs like a hawk is to a mouse, and then he turns away with a rather loud cough. One of his wings folds over his face to shield you from his view.

“Don’t you think you’re being a touch too…thorough?”

“Oh, grow up. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” Finding no marks, bruises, or fingerprints, you drop your dress and exhale noisily.

“You’re acting as if you’re inspecting a crime scene.” Peeking out at you through a veil of feathers, Sunday allows his shoulders to droop. “Are the dramatic theatrics really necessary?”

“Sorry. Did you wanna inspect it for yourself since you’re the criminal who left me like this?!” you exclaim through grit teeth, turning on him with a frigid scowl. 

Sunday meets you halfway with a glare of his own. Gold hues rake over the area where his marks lie in wait beneath a thick coat of makeup. Classified in the most thrilling, disturbing way.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Look, I don’t care what you do to get off. If you wanna fuck your wife and pretend it’s me, you do that. Oh, but then that wouldn’t be very perfect-and-loyal-married-man of you, would it?”

He stays on your crimson lips for a drawn-out breath. “I was right,” he mumbles. “You are the worst.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Shouldering your purse, you stride past him. “I should get going.”

He hesitates, fingers twitching at his side, but he quickly folds them under his arms. Back to prim and proper, sharp as a needle, full of abhorrence for you.

“Yes, you should. Run along and put this encounter out of your mind, if you would be so kind.”

“I intend to.” You flash him a nasty sneer.

On your way out, though, you stop. Maybe you want to play at being the bigger, better person. Or maybe you genuinely are grateful. Either way, you soften the animosity in your voice enough to get the admission out.

“And…thank you. For looking after me.”

You flee from the room before he can say anything. With daylight brightening the mansion’s maze-like halls and your sobriety, you’re able to recall the path to the front door.

All of this, you think, stepping out into the sunny afternoon, your arms wrapped around yourself in a self-soothing hug, was not worth the hangover.

From the window, Sunday watches you depart until you’re officially gone. Sighing, he allows the curtain to fall into place and glances at the unkempt bed.

“Of course,” he murmurs, smoothing his hand over the wrinkled sheets. “You’re welcome.”

[harmeu]

GUILT

(HSR MEN X READER) (ANGST)

(GN!READER) 

Synopsis: You and Sunday were dating but then you overhear him talking to those who work with him about how you’re just a pawn for his games.

SUNDAY:

Soft footsteps echoed as you walked through the halls of where your beloved boyfriend Sunday lived. Though a feeling of unknown dread crawled onto you as if warning you of something soon happening.

Click. Click. Click.

Your eyes lit up as you heard your boyfriend speaking to those who worked under him and you couldn't help but eavesdrop. The curiosity of how he acted when he wasn’t around you dwelling in your mind.

“It’s simple. I’m using them. They are just one step closer for me to get closer to my goals.” Sunday said with a calm smile, hands gently tracing his desk looking down at the men who were talking to him.

You were confused.

What were they talking about?

“Sir..are you sure? Aren’t they attached?”

“My so-called significant other is definitely attached. Though that benefits me. Much. More. Easier. To manipulate.”

You paled.

He was using you.

Tears bubbled up in your eyes and you held your hand to your mouth to stifle any noises of sadness that were threatening to come out.

Hitching and turning on your shoe you make a dash for it unaware that Sunday caught a glimpse through the slit of the door open with his eyes. His wings twitched in surprise and soon lowered as a disgusting feeling of shame hit him.

It was an oddity for Sunday.

“Oh dear.” He murmured out making his way out to find you.

Synopsis: Aventurine and you dated but when he bets you in a game everything goes downhill.

AVENTURINE:

You catch your boyfriend, the renowned gambler betting as usual. You told him his hobby wasn't good. But as if that would stop him. Eventually you gave up and just let him do what he wanted despite worry filling you each time he pushed a chip forward with his iconic trademark smirk. 

“Babe..” You murmur out unease written all over your face.

“Oh! Hey darling~ this man just won’t seem to give up..even after I basically drained his savings. He’s penniless and now putting bets on things he doesn't even own!” Aventurine chuckled, holding his head amused.

“Maybe you should stop? It's getting intense, no.?” You worriedly whisper out.

“Oh no no no sweetheart. Once you go in. You can’t come out.”

“Huh?” You fluster.

“In gambling! What were you thinking of?” His smirk grew and became more toothly as you spluttered but it soon died down as Aventurine noticed that the man he was gambling with was slowly earning his chips back.

“You pull up a tough fight.” Aventurine spoke and you just knew he was going to pull an impulsive move. 

“Seems my chips have vanished. What a shame. Yet I do not intend to lose. I bet..my darling sweetheart right here.” 

You flinched at his words staring at him with a ‘did you really just say that’’ look making Aventurine smack back into reality.

“Oh..doll wait I didn’t mea-”

He got cut off by you walking off.

Ping! New message!

(AVENTURINE HAS SENT $1,000,000)

Synopsis: Dating Dr. Ratio was nice. Though he puts more time with other matters, neglecting you.

DR RATIO:

You hadn’t seen your boyfriend Veritas in a while because of him either studying, working, teaching others, or doing something other than hanging out with you. You're aware of his passion to join the Genius Society but he can work on that while hanging out with you too right?

You felt left out.

So you decided to make your way to his office excited to see him but also a bit nervous due to the thought of him brushing you away to work on something else.

You knocked.

“Come in.” You hear his British pompous voice making you crack a small smile not hearing it in a while.

“Veritas..” You open the door smiling but it broke as you saw him writing down something in his notebook not bothering to spare a glance at you.

“What is it? I’m quite busy.” He whispered out, still looking engrossed in his work.

“Do..you want to hang out? It’s been a while and I’ve been worried about you overworking yourself. And I miss seeing you.” You blush at your own words staring at him.

Veritas sighed, dropping his pen and rubbing his temples.

“Dear how many times must I have to tell you that I am busy?” Annoyance is apparent in his tone making your eyes droop in defeat.

“Oh. Sorry. I just wanted to ask..since it's been such a long time.” Another sigh left Veritas as he ran a hand through his hair and finally made eye contact with you.

“I’m doing work at the moment so please leave me to it.” He picked up his pen again taking a glance at you but his eyes widened as he saw your vulnerable expression of defeat. You nodded softly and shut the door leaving.

Veritas stared at the door, his heart clenching in what he just did. Guilt poured onto it.

“My lord.” He murmured holding his now aching head.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Steady Love (Slight NSFW)

Synopsis: After Joe learns of a secret that you've been keeping from him, he has a big decision to make on whether the relationship is worth saving and if he can accept it

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Do not engage if underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Joe was deep in thought as he was on a popular restaurant's website looking at their menu to see everything that they offered. He knew that you, his girlfriend, was extremely picky and had a shit ton of allergies and had to make sure they had options that you could pick from.

He was convinced that your diet consisted of chicken nuggets and iced coffee and got on you all the time about it. His goal was to take you there for date night seeing as you had both been busy all week and now you were going to spend the weekend with him before going to his game on Sunday.

The restaurant had amazing reviews and the person who had told him about it and also made the reservation for it was Ja'Marr who was also on the phone, as Joe had put it on speaker so that he was able to talk to him and look at the website at the same time.

“I think Y/N is hiding something from me.” He blurted out as it had been on his mind for the last few days and he thought that he was going to explode if he didn't say anything to someone soon. He figured that telling one of his best friends was a good choice.

“Wait, what? That was random. Why do you say that? Your girl literally worships the ground you walk on and you do the same thing with her.”

“Something just seems off. I find her sometimes going to a different room to answer her phone, which she protects with her damn life by the way.”

“Don't we all? That doesn't mean anything.”

“No, not like she does. And do you know that I've never stayed at her place before?”

“Huh? The two of you have been together for what seems like forever.” Ja'Marr asked as he was moving around his kitchen and trying to find something to snack on.

“A few months but it's weird. Whenever I propose the idea, she immediately shuts it down. Claiming that my house is closer to her job, which is true but I don't know.”

“I think you’re paranoid and probably thinking too much into this. Y/N is amazing and she can do no wrong in my eyes.”

“Because you love whenever she cooks and tells me to invite you over too, but what if I'm right?”

“Hey! That just happens to be a plus but if you're right then confront her about it and the two of you act like adults and go from there. Just keep in mind she's making me salted caramel cookies next week. Don't mess up my supply.”

“Your supply? You act like we're talking about drugs when we are literally talking about cookies. And she just seemed so stressed out this week so the last thing I want to do is send her over the edge.”

“When it comes to her cooking, it might as well be crack! It's addicting! Look, if it comes up then you two talk about it and if it doesn't just wait for the right time. I'm sure that there's a good explanation to all of this.”

“I'm ignoring the part about the crack.”

“But you didn't ignore it because you just mentioned it.”

“Talking to you should not stress me out as much as it does.” Joe replied as he rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

“Keep in mind, YOU called me and I made the reservation for you so be nice!”

“Mm hmm.”

“Look, just let me know how it goes once you talk to her.”

Later on that evening, the two of you were now sitting across from one another in a secluded corner of the restaurant sharing the dessert that you had picked out. Joe wasn't one to eat a lot of sweets during the season, however for you he'll always make an exception.

You held your fork up to Joe's mouth and was encouraging him to take a bite but he was looking at you suspiciously before looking at the dessert and then looking back at you.

“Joey! Open!”

“Um.. what is this again?”

“It's a pistachio cheesecake. It's good, come on taste it.”

“It looks weird. And wait! Aren't you allergic to pistachios?”

“No, I got an allergy test done recently and apparently I'm not allergic anymore.”

“How reliable is that? The last thing I need is your throat closing. Do you have benadryl just in case? I'm about to call 911 so that they can be on standby.”

“I planned for my throat to close around something else tonight, but yes.” You told Joe as you winked at him.

Being caught off guard by your comment, his eyes went wide but he quickly recovered as he sent a smirk in your direction.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Mm hmm, I haven't seen you all week so I'm excited to spend the entire weekend with you which also includes plenty of activities that do not require clothes. This week was a lot and I really needed to be around you so this was absolutely perfect. Did you pick the place or did Ja'Marr?”

“We'll definitely get to that later. I know this week was a lot for you and there were a lot of things happening so I'm happy you're spending the entire weekend with me. And yes, it was Ja'Marr’s idea. I had never been here before and he recommended it.”

“Doesn't surprise me since you're such a homebody. I'm going to have to make him more cookies for that one.”

“All of my snacks and streaming services are at home. What do I need to leave for? And no, absolutely not. He's starting to stalk me just for your cookies. Any time he calls me now it's about you and your cooking. First thing out of his mouth is if you were at my house and if you cooked anything and if he can come over.” Joe told you as he laughed with you joining in with him.

“Okay, now open.”

“This better not be nasty.”

“Joey! Stop acting like you're five and open!” He did as he was told and slowly started to chew with his head nodding in approval.

“It's not bad, but I know something that tastes even better and I've been craving it all week actually.”

“What? You said you had never been here before.”

“I was talking about my girlfriend sitting on my face.”

—

“Get over here and stop running from me.” Joe told you as he pulled you back onto his California king bed since you were literally about a few centimeters from hitting the floor.

“I am nowhere done with you. Keep in mind you talked all that shit in the car on the way back and now look, a whimpering dripping mess underneath of me. So wet for me.” He whispered in your ear as he once again inserted two of his fingers into you, pumping them at an even and slow pace knowing that it would get you that much closer.

His fingers slipped out and he held them up to your mouth as you opened and sucked on them.

“See how good you taste?” Joe asked as he leaned down to place several kisses on your lips and slipped inside you at the same time making you gasp and quickly wrap your arms around his neck.

“Look at my pretty girl, she's taking me so well.”

He placed his hand around your neck and slightly squeezed, but not too tight as he increased his pace moving in and out of you.

Your moans were the only thing that you could get to come out of your mouth because of how much pleasure that you were in and knew that you being sore later was inevitable.

“Taking me so well that she can't even utter a single word, huh? This dick got you speechless?” Joe laughed, but was caught off guard when you suddenly flipped him onto his back and began to ride him.

“Damn, wasn't expecting that.”

“Not quite speechless, but you're about to be once I finish riding you.” You explained to him as you smirked with him taking hold of your hips in order to help guide you.

“Come on then, princess. Let's get to it.”

It was now three in the morning and you were wrapped into Joe's tight embrace when your phone began to vibrate violently on the nightstand.

Quickly picking it up to look at it, you were startled go see that it was Jayson, your daughters father and slowly moved from Joe in order to hopefully not wake him up and went into the master bathroom and closed the door behind you to answer it.

“Jayson, what's going on?”

“It's Nalanie. She won't stop crying and she's simply asking for you. She kept asking me to call you and wouldn't take no for an answer.”

“Just hand her the phone.”

“Hello?”

“Mom! I…” She started to say, but couldn't continue her sentence without crying.

“I'm coming, okay? Be there soon.” You comforted her and quickly hung up as you made your way back into the bedroom to still see Joe resting peacefully.

You quickly started moving around with the use of the flashlight on your phone to be able to see and this made Joe wake up and he quickly sat up to reach over to turn on the bedside lamp.

“Uh? Baby? What are you doing?”

“Looking for my clothes, I need to leave.” You told him as you had discovered your outfit that you had worn earlier all the way by the bedroom door suddenly remembering that Joe wasted no time in taking it off of you.

“Why? What's wrong? Did something happen?” He asked while you were hurrying to get dressed and you ignored his question. Not on purpose, but because you had no idea what you were about to walk into once you left there and went and got Nalanie.

Seeing how frantic you were, Joe pulled you over to him since he was sitting on the bed still to try and calm you down.

“Joey, I...”

“You need to breathe for a second and then tell me what's going on with you. You have me worried. What can I do to help you?”

“Just…. let me go please. I want to tell you but…”

“But what? You tell me everything. Or at least I thought you told me everything.” He replied as he took your smaller hand in his large one.

You hesitated before you answered him and it was clear by the look on your face that you didn't want to. The man in front of you had always been honest with you since the two of you had gotten together and it was necessary for you to do the same thing in return. He never deserved to be lied to despite your reasoning for it.

In your mind, you didn't necessarily lie to him, but you definitely didn't tell him the truth either.

“I just got off the phone with my daughter. She was crying and scared and I could barely make out what she was saying. I need to go get her from her father's house. I promise to explain more after I know that she's okay.”

“Wait, what? You’re joking right? Since when do you have a daughter?” Joe asked dumbfounded and he was waiting for the punchline of the joke that just came out of your mouth.

“Since I got pregnant when I was a teenager. Joey, I promise I'll explain but not now. Move so I can get up.” You said as tears were threatening to fall down your face.

“So you mean to tell me that you lied to me? And you've been lying to me this entire time?! I knew that something was off with you and I was right! What else are you hiding?! Are there more kids that I don't know about? Why would you lie about something like that?”

“Nothing. I'm not hiding anything else, I promise.” You said as you slipped on your shoes.

“Hmm, your promises have now been proven to come up empty so I don't want to even hear it. Just do what you have to do.”

“Joey…”

“No, I don't want to hear it. I hope your daughter is okay, but….”

“But what?”

“How am I supposed to be with someone who lies to me? Especially something as big as that?”

“It’s not that simple. I'll explain if you just give me the chance.”

“Oh, but it is. Get your stuff and you can leave.”

“I… fine.” You told him as you grabbed your overnight bag from the chair in the corner and your cell phone that had been placed on the nightstand after you had gotten that frantic call.

You looked at your keys and quickly took the key to Joe's condo off and left it on the nightstand that was closest to his side of the bed.

Without another word, you walked out of his bedroom and down the steps to eventually make it to your car. Once your belongings were in the backseat, the water works that you had been trying so hard to hold in, made themselves known and it was like a dam had broken.

After sitting there for a few minutes and giving yourself a pep talk, you made your way to Nalanie's father's house to make sure that she was okay.

It didn't take long before you were knocking on the front door and it was whisked open by Nalanie herself who then placed you in a bone crushing hug as tears were still streaming down her face. You rubbed small circles along her back as you kissed her cheek in order to get her to calm down.

“Lady Bug, are you going to tell me what's wrong? I'm here now and you're okay.”

She slowly nodded her head and broke her embrace from you and moved to the side so that you would be able to come into the house. Once she did, you were greeted by Jayson and his wife Sabrina who had come from the kitchen in order to greet you.

“Hey, she’s been like this for the past hour. Won't say anything to us. All she wanted was you.” Sabrina told you as she hugged you.

You nodded your head before also hugging Jayson, but Nalanie stayed quiet.

“Lady Bug?”

“Can we just go home?” She quietly asked and the first thing you did was nod.

“Go get your things and meet me back down here.”

Nalanie took the steps two at a time before Jayson looked at you and sighed.

“I was trying to handle it without us calling you, but I didn’t know what else to do. Anddd I just realized I ruined date night for you. How's you know who by the way?”

“Very upset with me because he found out about her like this before I could tell him properly and I think we just broke up? I had literally planned on telling him in the next two weeks or so and I was going to tell her too. But it's not important right now. What is important is my daughter so, if he can't accept her then he's not the one for me.”

“He's probably more upset about finding out in the way he did and not the fact that you have her.”

“Either way, we're probably done, so…”

“Don't give up on him so easily, he may surprise you.” Sabrina said before walking back into the kitchen.

“Just see how it plays out. This is the happiest that I've ever seen you and I would hate for you to miss out on that. Just give him time to process.” Jayson told you and you simply nodded as Nalanie reappeared with all of her bags in tow.

Nalanie said her goodbyes to her father and Sabrina and you picked one of her many bags up off the floor to carry outside. You never understood why she needed so many bags for a three day weekend, but then again she was your child and simply took after you when you thought about how you would do the exact same thing.

The two of you were now home and as soon as you opened the door, you wasted no time in asking her what was wrong.

“Okay, out with it.”

“I got my period and got really scared.”

“Oh, Lady Bug, that is nothing to be scared about. It happens to everyone that has a uterus.”

“I know that I could have asked Sabrina, but I just wanted you. I remember you telling me about what to do if you weren't around and it happened so I took a pad from underneath the sink. I'm sorry that I took you away from whatever you were doing.”

“Don't apologize. You needed me and never ever apologize for needing me. So, how about this?”

“What?”

“Take a bath, put on pajamas and we'll sleep. When we wake up, I'll do your makeup and your hair while we watch Mean Girls?”

“Ooh, deal! Can we make popcorn too?”

“Of course we can and then we're going on a snack run. You can't be on your period and not have a supply of chocolate and ice cream in the house.”

It had been almost an entire two weeks and Joe's finger kept hovering over your number as he debated on calling you while he sat in his living room.

This had happened ever since he had told you to leave that night. The guilt crept in not too long after he had heard you close the front door and he debated on running after you, but decided against it.

He admits that he should've given you a chance to explain everything, but in that moment he was too mad to even listen to one. He couldn't begin to wrap his mind around how you have a daughter.

His mind kept going to you and quickly decided that after practice was over and he was home that he would call you and hopefully you wanted to talk to him, but he honestly wouldn't blame you if you had told him no.

Thinking that it was now or never, he pushed down with his thumb on your number and the phone began to dial.

It rang for a while and Joe was about to hang up, before he heard your soft voice come through the phone.

“Hello?”

“Um, hey.” Joe responded hesitantly.

“Surprised to hear from you. Did you dial the wrong number by chance?” You curiously asked as you were fumbling through your kitchen cabinets looking for ideas on what to make for dinner for you and Nalanie.

“No, I wanted to talk to you. Are you busy right now?”

Startled by this, you placed the box of macaroni noodles on the counter and sat down at the island, trying to take in what he had just asked you.

“No, not at the moment. I'm free to talk.”

“Uh, can we do this in person? I would rather do that than talk on the phone.”

“Sure, I can be over there in 15 minutes.” You told him as you glanced down at your watch. After going over there to see him, you would have to go straight to Nalanie's middle school to pick her up from practice.

“Okay, I'll leave the door open for you.”

It didn't take you very long to get there as you had anticipated, but the anxiety of seeing Joe again after the two of you had left things was starting to kick in.

Maybe this was a formal break up?

No, he probably just wants an explanation and as far as you could tell he was long overdue to hear the truth from you about everything.

Reaching his condo, you pulled into the driveway before getting out of your car and walking up to the door. Turning the handle, it was open just like Joe had promised and a deep breath escaped your mouth before turning it and walking inside.

You found him in the living room and he gave you a small smile before getting up to hug you which caught you off guard. You tightly hugged him back just in case that was the last time that you were able to do it.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

The two of you were now sitting next to each other and Joe was the first to speak.

It was time to get it over with. Now or never.

“Y/N, why would you keep something like that from me? And you've done it for MONTHS. I'm just trying to understand.” he asked you, trying to make sense of the situation. He simply couldn't believe that you lied to him and lied to him about something as big as this.

“I wanted to tell you when I felt that the time was right. Please understand that. I had actually planned on doing it soon, but then everything happened so…..” You quietly said, but all he did was shake his head.

“And when did you exactly plan on doing that? At this rate, you probably weren't about to tell me until we got married.”

“That is not fair and you know it!”

“I knew something was up when you would go to another room to answer phone calls, never let me stay at your place with you and always shut down the idea when I asked, leaving early from date night. I care about you, so you could at the very least let me know what was happening. Even if you weren't ready for me to meet her.”

“I just didn't want her to get attached to you just in case we didn't end on the best terms. It's happened before in the past and I don't want her to be disappointed again. And I also didn't know how you were going to take it.”

“Hmm, I would have dealt with it because I love and care about you. But I see that you obviously don't give me enough credit. If something or in this case, SOMEONE is important to you, they're important to me too. How old is she anyway?”

“She just turned thirteen.” You quietly said and Joe's eyes went wide.

“I still can't believe you tried to hide the fact that you have a child from me.”

“Like I said, I was going to tell you. If you don't want to be with me anymore because I kept this from you, I get it. I think you made that pretty clear two weeks ago. I ultimately was just trying to protect her.” You quietly said feeling defeated.

Even though Joe was definitely upset with you, he moved closer to you and took your hand in his and started rubbing small circles on the back of it.

“What's her name?” He asked and from that point on, the light in your eyes returned.

“Nalanie Rue. But I've always called her Lady Bug. When I brought her home from the hospital and we were walking outside with her to get into the car, one landed on her nose and it's been her name since. I never call her by her real name unless she's in trouble, which isn't often. She's a really good kid and I honestly couldn't have asked for more. I'm really proud to be her mom.” You confessed as you told Joe about your daughter.

“I see the way you lit up when I asked you about her.”

“I got pregnant when I was 15 and was obviously scared out of my mind. I tried to hide it from my parents for a while but then my mom noticed that I wasn't using the tampons or pads she would put in my bathroom every month for me and she confronted me about it. They’ve always supported me even though I know deep down that they think that I robbed myself of my childhood, which is fair in a sense. I couldn't really go out with my friends unless I took her with me.”

“And you get along with her father? I'm assuming he is in the picture since he's the one who called you first?”

“Yes, he was there from day one when I told him and didn't back down. He's a year older than me. He got a job and would buy her as much as he could. Jayson. He's amazing to her and they have a good relationship. We're still close and he’s married now. But his wife treats Nalanie like she's hers and that's the best thing I could have asked for. I really lucked out because I know a lot of other people aren't as fortunate. My only prayer was that whoever he decided to marry would do right by her.”

“When did she meet his wife?”

“Literally right before he proposed to her and that was something that we both agreed on, but she did know about her. We never bring anyone around her unless we're absolutely sure that they'll be there for the long haul because both of us have messed up in the past with that. We want to protect her like I said before.” You honestly said and Joe was taking in everything that you had told him.

“And I told Jayson about you, but not Nalanie. From his perspective and the way that I talk about you he's really happy for me and all for it. But he did say that he wanted her to meet you. It might also help that you're his favorite player but who knows.” You said to Joe and a small smirk broke out onto his face.

“You're the one calling the shots here. I just want you to do whatever you're comfortable with. I would love to meet her whenever you feel that the time is right. But Y/N….”

“Hmm?” You asked as you turned once more to look at him and he sighed before answering you.

“You can't keep things like this from me. We've been together for a while and you know better than anyone how much I'm going to be there to support you with whatever is going on in your life, just like you do for me. No more secrets. Promise me. I get your reasoning behind it, but you having a daughter was not going to be a dealbreaker for me.”

“Promise. No more secrets from here on out.” You replied back to him as he leaned over to place a kiss on your forehead. He relaxed into the couch as you brought your head slightly to the left to be able to lean against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Do you want to see what she looks like?” You asked Joe at the same time that you had reached for your phone, not really waiting for an answer.

You never wasted an opportunity to show off your daughter and let people know how proud you were of her.

Joe nodded as you went to your gallery and pulled up the most recent photos of the two of you and moved it closer so that he could see it.

“She literally looks just like you.”

“My little twin. Everyone says the same thing when they see her except she's a little taller than me. She is literally my baby. I cried when she turned thirteen. I can't wrap my head around me now having a teenager.”

“And you’re going to do such an amazing job with her. I can see that you already are.”

“Well if you're ready to meet her, we can do it tomorrow. It's Thursday and she likes football just as much as her parents do.”

“How about football and an ice cream date? Does she like ice cream?”

“She does. Mint chocolate chip is her favorite and I always tell her how weird she is because I never met a kid that said that was their favorite flavor. Oh, and I should tell you something….”

“That's wild that she likes that flavor, but what is it?”

“The Bengals are her favorite team and for good reason but…”

“But what?”

“Ja'Marr is her favorite player so she is going to interrogate you about him.” You confessed as you stifled a laugh and Joe held his hand over his heart pretending that he was hurt.

“But I think the two of you will get along just fine.”

“Oh, and I think you'll need this back.” Joe told you as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the key that you had left on his nightstand.

Staying over with Joe lasted around forty five minutes until you told him about going to get Nalanie from practice. Once you had picked her up and the two of you were eating dinner and watching Netflix, you figured that it was a good time to tell her about meeting Joe tomorrow and nudged her to get her attention as she was sitting next to you on the couch.

“I have something that I want to tell you.”

“Okay, I'm listening. Is everything okay?” She replied as she turned to look at you.

“Everything's fine. I want you to meet someone really special to me tomorrow after you get home from school. We're going to get ice cream and…”

“MINT CHOCOLATE CHIP!”

“Yes, you can have that disgusting flavor and we'll watch Thursday Night Football with him.” You told her as you turned up your nose and she promptly stuck her tongue out at you.

“That is literally the best flavor of ice cream, you are such a hater. But wait a minute… him?”

“Yes, him.” You replied as you nodded your head.

“Hmm, I have to approve. I need to make sure that he's good enough to be in a relationship with my mom. If the two of you are in a relationship that is.” She said as she narrowed her eyes at you suspiciously.

“We are and I forgot how overprotective that you can get but I definitely think that the two of you will get along really well. You two like a lot of the same things including football.” You said as you thought about her probably wanting to go to every Bengals game once she meets Joe.

“In my eyes, only very few people meet my expectations of being good enough for you. And I want to see you happy, but you look happy so I guess he's doing something right so I'm okay with it. And I know he must be important because I never meet anyone that you date.”

“And be nice. No interrogating.”

“No promises.”

You and Joe agreed to meet at one of your favorite ice cream stands that wasn't too far from your job and you found yourself going there sometimes when you got a break to destress by eating a treat that you knew was going to satisfy your craving. It also had a small park nearby and that's where you planned on meeting him.

Nalanie was actually bouncing off the walls and very excited to meet the mystery man, or it was the fact that she was going to get ice cream in the middle of the week.

It was probably the latter.

The two of you were in line and you were about to pay for your ice cream as well as Nalanie's when you felt a presence behind you. You got a whiff of the cologne that you grew to love so much and knew that it was your boyfriend. Joe then slipped the cashier his card as you shook your head and smiled while Nalanie was looking around confused.

“Wait, mom, where's your man? Is he late? I thought he was supposed to be here already. And why is Joe Burrow here? Wait! Is Ja'Marr here too?” She asked as she was looking around to see if she could spot her favorite player.

“Lady bug, this is my boyfriend Joe and Joe this is my daughter Nalanie.”

“It's nice to meet you Nalanie, your mom has told me all about you.” Joe told her and she slowly nodded her head up and down indicating that she was still taking everything in.

At that moment, her eyes went wide.

“I.. wow… It's nice to meet you too. I had this whole speech in my head to interrogate you with but now I can't remember a word of it.”

“Nalanie! I said NO interrogating!”

“He seems like he would be able to take it anyway.” She told you and you shook your head at her.

“I didn't bring Ja'Marr, but maybe next time. Since someone did tell me that he was your favorite player.”

“Don't be jealous, you're a close second.” She replied as she smiled.

Over the next several months, you watched as Joe and Nalanie grew closer and was happy that they were building such a good relationship with one another. There were even a few conversations that had happened regarding the two of you moving in with him and of course Nalanie was all for it, but you on the other hand wanted a little bit more time before you came to a final decision about it. Joe told you that there was absolutely no rush and that the offer would stand.

It was currently Friday and you were stuck in traffic due to an accident as you were on your way to get Nalanie. You didn't want to keep her waiting and since it was her weekend with you instead of spending it with her dad, you quickly asked Joe if he could get her for you.

You- Joey, I'm stuck in traffic, could you go and get Nalanie for me? But only if you aren't busy. I owe you for this.

Joey- You don't owe me anything and of course I'll go and get her. We'll wait for you before we decide on dinner.

You- Thank you, I love you 😘💕

Joey- I love you more and be safe.

Nalanie was surprised to see Joe instead of you as he pulled up in his Porsche, but quickly slipped into the passenger seat as Joe had leaned over to open the door for her.

“Hey, where's my mom? Not that I’m not happy to see you or anything.” She told him as she brought the seatbelt across her body.

“Stuck in traffic so she asked me to come and get you. We'll decide on dinner once she gets back. How was your day at school?”

“Hmm, it was okay, but this boy Cody is convinced that girls don't know more about football then boys so we got into an argument at lunch about it.”

“Did you know that there are more women who actually watch it then men do?” Joe told her and she quickly nodded.

“See!? And that's what I told him. I was firing off all these stats about my favorite players, you were included, and he was just looking at me like he didn't know what I was talking about.”

One thing Joe knew Nalanie was passionate about was football and sports in general and that you and her were never one to back down from an argument or discussion regarding it.

“He sounds like he talks a big game, but can't back it up.”

“I'm convinced that his head is full of air instead of a brain.”

“You literally sound just like your mother.” Joe told her as he laughed and came to a slow stop at a red light.

“I have a question. Well, two actually.”

“Ask away.” Joe told her as the light turned green.

“Well first, when are you going to marry my mom? She's really happy with you and I can tell.”

Hearing Nalanie ask this caught him off guard, but he quickly composed himself.

“Hmm, funny you should ask. Can you keep a secret? And I also wanted to ask you something.” He said and she quickly nodded.

“I already got her ring, just have to plan when I'm going to do it. And I wanted to ask your permission too, because I feel that it's important.”

“Really!? Well you already know that my answer is yes. I already consider you my bonus dad and that's a plus. This is the happiest that I've ever seen her. What does it look like? Can I see it?”

A million thoughts were running through Nalanie's head about how excited she was about the entire thing. She finally felt that now her family would be complete.

“I have it hidden in my room, hoping she doesn't find it but I'll show you later. What was your next question?”

“Are you two going to have a baby? Or babies? I like the idea of at least three. I want a sibling or siblings to play with.”

“I… you are so full of questions today.”

“I only asked you two questions and you are definitely stalling. I guess all that media training has led you to be able to learn how to dodge questions.”

“I'm not dodging the question!”

“Lies! Then answer it!”

At that moment, Joe's phone rang indicating that it was you and quickly answered it as Nalanie made a face at him.

“Saved by the phone call. But I'm definitely going to ask again later.”

It was around eight at night when you were painting Nalanie's nails on the floor in the living room while Joe was sitting on the couch behind both of you and she noticed that you kept glancing at her.

“Uh, mom? Everything okay? You literally only do that when you have something that you want to tell me.” She asked as you were now painting a second coat. This also caught Joe's attention and he quickly looked over at you.

“Well there is something….” You said as you gestured for her to put her hand in the nail dryer.

“What is it?” She asked as she looked between the two of you and you looked at Joe to give him permission to tell her.

“I think that the role of being a big sister is going to look pretty good on you.” Joe told her and her mouth was now hanging wide open.

“Now I see why you didn't answer my question earlier.”

“Wait, what question?” You asked her and she sent a smile in your direction.

“I asked him when the two of you were going to give me a sibling, but I see that was clearly already in the works. I want at least three by the way.” She told you as she pointed to your midsection.

“Umm, we'll have to see about that and we wanted to make sure that everything was okay before we said anything about it.”

“Well I'm excited for that obviously and now I guess there's only one more part left.”

“And what part is that?”

“The part where you two get married and then we'll be a family for real.”

Taglist:

@hoodharlow

@a-moment-captured

@wickedfun9

@dandelionwrites8

@keiva1000

[avenshine]

troublemaker, i love the trouble! + ( hsr men )

requested! | what happens when you simply cannot stay out of trouble, and you feel like it’s becoming too much for your boyfriend?

warnings: hurt/comfort. never write for argenti/boothill before and written before his release, possibly ooc for both. longer than usual, please enjoy! <3

while he admires you, argenti simply cannot fathom how you always manage to get in trouble. even if you’re not always the start of it. it doesn’t bother him saving you, but it seems to get to you, a lot. no matter how many times he assures you it’s fine, you feel guilty. you apologize, and he understands — it’s fine, he insists. he sets up a cute dinner date for the both of you one day, trying to really help you see that everything is fine between you both.

dr ratio feels a little different towards this. while he understands things come with troubles, he would constantly quote “it’s more trouble than it’s worth”, he tries to not mean it too harshly, he wishes you could stay out. and at some point, you start to feel a little upset with that, feeling as if you’re bothering him. and of course, he picks up on this. he starts with an apology, “i’m sorry, i know you can’t help it; i’ll do my best to be more cautious of my words.

being a member of the ipc, aventurine knows the feeling of trouble following wherever you go. so he’ll try his best to get you out of it, or even try to be there to prevent it, but of course he gets busy with his work — so it’s not always possible. he does make sure to reassure you that you’re not bothering him by getting in trouble, as long as you can make sure, almost like a promise, you stay safe, he’ll do the same.

sunday is simply just concerned, constantly asking how you get into this, or that. and when you explain it, he sighs softly, wanting to just put you in bubble wrap or something, cause in the end, he just doesn’t want to see his precious angel hurt. as of recently though, you feel like you’ve been causing too much trouble around him, and that it’s a bother, and voice this to him. he immediately wraps you into a tight hug, kissing your forehead. he whispers to you, “my sweetest angel, you’re never a bother. i can promise, no, guarantee it, just please stay safe, okay? that’s my main concern.”

for his absolute darling, boothill will create the trouble with you (given it’s safe), he simply cannot help it, it’s the most fun he’s had in a while! at some point though, he stops. and you figure it’s because he’s tired of you as a whole, which is simply not the case. it isn’t until he pulls you aside, asking you if you were upset with him & many things along those lines. you shake your head, and he’s immediately comforted. but when you ask him in turn if he’s upset with you and that’s why he doesn’t wanna create trouble anymore, he repeats you, shaking his head before speaking. “my darling cutie, i just felt like stopping, but if you wanna, and it would make you feel better, we can stir some up right now!”

[reasonsforhope]

Article

"The Democratic Party largely coalesced around Vice President Harris as its likely new presidential nominee on Monday [July 22, 2024], as she kicked off her campaign by promising to prosecute a forceful case against Republican nominee Donald Trump and defend the legacy of President Biden.

Hours after she delivered remarks laying out some of the themes of her campaign, Harris secured pledges of support from a majority of Democratic National Convention delegates, a forceful show of unity behind her presidential campaign that signals she is likely to officially become the party’s nominee next month.

“Over the next 106 days, we are going to take our case to the American people, and we are going to win,” Harris said during a visit to campaign headquarters in Wilmington, Del., where she was greeted by a group of energized staffers for Biden’s now-abandoned candidacy. Harris accused Trump of wanting to “take our country backwards to a time before many of our fellow Americans had full freedoms and rights.” She added, “we believe in a brighter future that makes room for all Americans.”

Biden dialed into the impromptu meeting, using his first public remarks after dropping out of the presidential race Sunday to thank his staff and ask them to support Harris with “every bit of your heart and soul.”

“The name has changed at the top of the ticket, but the mission hasn’t changed at all,” said Biden, who joined remotely from Rehoboth Beach, where he has been recovering from a case of covid. “We still need to save this democracy. Trump is still a danger to the community. He’s a danger to the nation.”

The high-energy, highly unified setting reflected the broader sentiment across the Democratic Party, in which Harris’s swift ascendancy has upended an already tumultuous and unpredictable presidential race. After being exhausted by weeks of turmoil and infighting over Biden’s prospects, relieved and newly energized Democrats across the country rushed to embrace Harris’s candidacy and unite around the goal of defeating Trump.

Less than 36 hours after Biden abruptly exited the race and endorsed Harris as his successor, hundreds of state delegates, the majority of Democratic lawmakers and governors, a group of state party chairs, and several influential interest groups threw their support behind Harris, as other potential candidates said they would not challenge her. Top congressional leaders followed suit, with Senate Majority Leader Charles E. Schumer (D-N.Y.), House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries (D-N.Y.) and former House speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.) expressing support for Harris on Monday.

While a small number of Democrats have advocated an open, competitive process, Harris appeared to have an inside track Monday to quickly securing the nomination ahead of the party’s convention next month...

After celebrating the extended infighting and discord that plagued Democrats in the aftermath of Biden’s halting performance at the June 27 debate, Trump’s allies watched Monday as Democratic leaders quickly fell in line behind Harris.

“I’m excited to fully endorse Vice President Harris for the next president of the United States,” Kentucky Gov. Andy Beshear (D) said Monday on MSNBC’s “Morning Joe” program. “The vice president is smart and strong, which will make her a good president, but she’s also kind and has empathy, which can make her a great president.” ...

Democratic Govs. Gretchen Whitmer of Michigan, J.B. Pritzker of Illinois and Wes Moore of Maryland also endorsed Harris on Monday, joining a growing list of potential rivals for the nomination that instead opted to endorse her candidacy. Govs. Gavin Newsom of California and Josh Shapiro of Pennsylvania, each considered potential candidates, both endorsed Harris on Sunday.

Democratic leaders on Monday unveiled a new virtual process for selecting a nominee to replace Biden that would conclude by Aug. 7, ahead of the nominating convention in Chicago next month. The dates for the virtual process will be announced on Wednesday.

The private doubts about Harris’s vulnerabilities and less-than-impressive polling numbers largely remained unspoken Monday as Democrats appeared eager to consolidate around a candidate and head off a messy competition for the nomination 106 days before the Nov. 5 election. During her visit to campaign headquarters in Wilmington, Harris was greeted by more than 100 staff members who gave her a standing ovation. The room was covered in newly printed signs that read “Harris for President,” though at least one lingering “Biden-Harris” sign stood as a testament to how rapidly the presidential race had shifted.

Campaign aides said more than 28,000 new volunteers had signed up to lend support, more than 100 times the typical number. Harris, who has been traveling around the country, planned to continue her campaign travel this week.

Trump had built an advantage in polls of key swing states and has at times appeared frustrated with Biden’s exit from the race, lamenting Sunday that he had to “start all over again” after long focusing on Biden...

Harris’s operation raised a record $81 million in the first 24 hours after Biden dropped out and endorsed his vice president, aides said. A group of tens of thousands of Black women gathered on a virtual call Sunday evening to showcase their support for Harris’s bid to become the first woman of color to be president...

Harris has already begun leaning into her background as a prosecutor and state attorney general as she began to cast the race against Trump in a new light.

“In those roles I took on perpetrators of all kinds,” she said. “Predators who abused women, fraudsters who ripped off consumers, cheaters who broke the rules for their own gain. So hear me when I say I know Donald Trump’s type.”"

-via The Washington Post, July 22, 2024

[moody-alcoholic]

Freaky Friday

+18 MDNI explicit content

Its Friday which means I try writing new things. This week ✨double penetration.✨ I really had a scene like this envisioned for the finale of missing piece but I couldn’t wrap my head round it. Anyway thought this week was the perfect opportunity to give it another go! I pulled what I had saved in my drafts folder and cleaned it up, it’s definitely something…

Summary: Ghoap x reader. 2.5k words. Johnny suggests some fun in the bedroom.

CW: +18 MDNI explicit content Smut, sex, threesome, double penetration (ass & vagina), oral (M&F receiving), overstimulation, PiV sex, anal, spanking (it’s like once), grinding/ dry humping, little bit of aftercare.

Masterlist - AO3

Enjoy ya filithy animals <3

“How ‘bout we try double penetration.” Johnny says over dinner one day. You almost choke on your carrot.

“Fitting conversation for the dinner table as ever Johnny.” Simon says shaking his head as he forks more food in his mouth. You chuckle as Johnny winks at you. 

“I’m serious though, if you want to of course?” He says tipping his head to the side looking at you. You look over at Simon who sips on his glass of wine.

“I don’t know maybe. It seems complicated.” You feel yourself blushing as reach for your wine glass.

“I’ve been doing some research and I think I've got it figured out.” Johnny say smiling and putting another fork of food in his mouth. 

“Watched an instructional video did you?” Simon asks raising an eyebrow.

“Many, and I think I've cracked it.” He says pointing his fork at Simon

“It would be easy, Si you can take the front I'll take the back. You wouldn't even have to do anything love, just sit there and take it.” Johnny explains bluntly. You think about it, it did sound interesting. Something you thought would come up eventually anyway given the situation of the relationship. You didn't expect it to be over Sunday dinner though. Maybe that’s why Johnny went to so much effort, to ease the blow of bringing it up.

“Okay, we could try. I have Tuesday off next week. How about then?” You look round the table. You feel like you could see a smile forming on Simon's lips. Maybe he was more up for it then he seemed to be.

“Its a date.” Johnny says raising his glass

—------------

When Tuesday rolls around you’re strangely nervous. You don’t want to be a disappointment, but if Johnny meant what he said that you would basically just have to hold onto Simon and they would do the rest. This is definitely the most adventurous thing you’d done with them so far. Also the thing that’s required the most ‘prep’ work.  

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Simon asks you quietly as you come out the bathroom.

“Yeah, are you?” You ask trying to hide the nervousness in your voice. 

“Yeah, just remember if you want to stop just say. You know how enthusiastic Johnny can get.” Simon says. You smile nodding and he wraps his arm round your shoulder as you walk with him into the bedroom. Johnny is stood in just his boxers patting down the sheets on the bed. This is the first time you’ve planned for sex. Most of the time its just spontaneous. 

“Okay Simon sit on the end of the bed.” Johnny says. 

“What no foreplay?” Simon asks pulling his shirt off. 

“Oh, they’ll be foreplay. I just need to see how this works.” Johnny says as Simon sits down on the end of the bed. You go over to him as Johnny instructs you to sit on his knees facing Simon. You follow the instructions Simon’s hands wrap round your back and he holds you in place. Its not the most comfortable position with Simon’s large thighs. He scoots back on the bed a bit and you straddle over his waist smiling at him as you feel his cock twitch between the layers of fabric.

Johnny comes up behind you standing between Simon’s legs his hands squeeze your ass. You hear Johnny hum as you look down at Simon laid back propped up on his elbows. You start grinding up against him, feeling his cock grow in his pants. You lean down to kiss him as Johnny runs his hands up your back under your shirt. You sit up letting Johnny take it off over your head and fling it to the side. Simon’s face lights up as your breasts fall free and you move off him so he can take his trousers off. You’re kneeling on the bed as Johnny strips his boxers off.  

“Why don’t you sit on his face?” Johnny asks. You look down at Simon who nods. Guess you’re trying two new things tonight. You pull your underwear off and straddling over Simon’s face. His hands reach up and grab your ass you look down as him smiling as you let him lower your body onto his mouth. His tongue licks from your entrance to your clit, you let out a moan reaching forward for something to grab. You don’t find anything instead digging your nails into your thighs. It feels weird, this new position. Simon’s strong his arms holding your legs securely in place. You move one of your hands to your breasts cupping one and squeezing the nipple, it sends waves of pleasure down to your already aching pussy.

You hear Johnny behind you, the guttural sounds coming from his throat as he pleasures Simon. It’s hot, the noises he’s making sending vibrations through your body, not helped by the fact Simon keeps moaning making your clit spasm with each suck. You wish you could turn and see, you stop trying to grind on Simon’s face as you moan feeling yourself getting closer to the edge. Your nails are dug deep in your legs as you tip your head back, thighs accidentally squeezing Simon’s head as you cum. You feel him groan under you as you loosen your legs hearing Johnny chuckle behind you. You’re still panting when you flop your body to the side hearing Simon suck in gasps of air. 

“Sorry.” You say between breaths. Simon smiles looking over at you laying next to him, the pulsating between your legs is fading but the ache is still there. You scoot yourself down the bed and roll over so you’re face to face with Simon, who’s propped himself back up on his elbows. You both look down at Johnny who has a smirk on his face, knelt between Simon’s legs watching you both with his hands still working Simon’s shaft. You give Simon a quick kiss then you sit up swinging your legs over his stomach.

You feel Johnny grip your waist pulling you down to meet Simon’s pelvis. You reach behind you feeling for his cock. Your thumb circles around the familiar tip, your hand thrusts down, already so wet with a mix of Johnny’s saliva and Simon’s precum. You kneel up and over him guiding the tip to your entrance. You look down at him he’s still up on his elbows as you ease yourself down on him. You watch his expression change as his eyes roll back and he lets his body flop down. You move up and down on him feeling Johnny come behind you, hands wrapping round to your breasts, squeezing your nipples. It makes you moan Johnny’s name and Simon’s hands find your thighs.

“Feel good?” Johnny asks breathing down your neck. You hum in response as he starts kissing your neck, tongue dancing over the sensitive spots. You don’t need anything else you don’t even need to play with your clit you could just ride Simon and let Johnny play with you until you cum. You said you would try this though and honestly how hard can it be.

Johnny gently angles your body forward a bit and Simon looks up feeling your change in pace. Your body now arched forward slightly means Simon’s cock is hitting a new spot that's making clench down on him, he can feel it too becoming more vocal his hands squeezing your thighs. Simon’s beautiful moans are making it harder to concentrate. You get distracted by the sound of a drawer opening behind you, and what sounds like a cap of something. 

“Lube,” Johnny says as he sees you trying to turn. You feel one of his hands on the bottom of your back as you hear the other rubbing lube over his cock. You stop bouncing when you feel Johnny’s hand run between your ass cheeks. You clench again you don’t mean to. Simon sits up one of his hands coming round your back. You don’t know how he can be comfortable but he presses his lips to yours as his tongue works in your mouth Johnny’s fingers press up against your hole. It feels strange but you're too distracted as you moan in Simon’s mouth. 

“So soft.” Johnny breaths his other hand running up your back. You pull away from Simon as you feel Johnny’s finger on your ass replaced with the tip of his cock. 

“You ready?” Johnny asks you look at Simon and feel him twitch inside you. You realise he's been doing all the work grinding his hips into you. 

“Yeah,” you reply. Your arms wrapping round Simon’s neck. Johnny presses his back up against you as he slowly pushes into you. You gasp, it feels like all the air is sucked out your lungs. Johnny pauses as you clench round them both. 

“Fuck love,” Simon says breathing into your neck. 

“Christ, you feel amazing.” Johnny says pushing in a little further. You let out a moan feeling shivers run up your body. Your hips start buck against Simon feeling his cock pulse against your dripping walls. You can feel yourself slipping round his hips. Johnny pushes up inside you with one last thrust. It feels good, you feel full like you’re almost too tight being able to feel each movement from them.

Johnny was right as soon as him and Simon got comfortable all you really has to do was sit there. It took a few seconds to get used to it but before you knew it you were a painting mess your head slumped in Simon’s neck. One of Johnny’s hands ran up your hair lightly gripping it as his fingers massaged your scalp. You feel each thrust they’re making as your bodies all become a hot sweaty mess.

Sometimes their thrusts are in sync and its like fucking fireworks as moan out. They’re getting faster and you’re being bounced around more. Hearing Simon and Johnny moaning while their both inside you is amazing, its almost too much you’re starting to feel overstimulated. You know Simon is close by his painting and tight grip on you. 

“Johnny..” you breath as you tip your head back. He turns his face to kiss your cheek. You try to move your head as you do his lips meet yours. Its hot and sloppy your lips trying to stay together while you’re bring moved around. You’re not going to last much longer. Johnny seems to be able to tell as he increases his speed as Simon struggles to match him. Now Johnny is almost picking you up in his arms and bouncing you on them both.  

“Christ, Johnny..” is the only warning you get from Simon before he cums, its a few thrusts later you feel yourself cuming too, the feeling of Simon’s cock throbbing inside you pushing you over the edge. You call Simon’s name as you cum feeling Johnny resting you down on him while he continues to fuck you from behind. Simon flops down on the bed. His hands still gripping your thighs, you watch his chest rising and falling as he takes deep breaths.  

“Did so fucking well taking us both.” Johnny says he's almost feral pushing down on your lower back bending you forward. You feel Simon’s spent cock slip out of you and he moans. Its a completely new feeling now having just Johnny inside you, you feel almost empty. You moan at the praise as your clit starts rocking against Simon’s half hard twitching member. He’s almost shaking from overstimulation maybe you should get off him. But it feels too good you’re still so sensitive if this keeps up you’re going to cum again.

You plant your hands on Simon’s chest, you can feel his heart racing as you try not to dig your nails into him. It just feels too good and you bend over completely your head resting on his chest. Simon’s arms rub round your back. You hear Johnny grunting behind you as you angle your hips to chase the pleasure building inside you. You’re incoherently moaning and calling names as Simon’s hands brush over you. You listen to Johnny’s moans, and praises telling you how good you’ve been.

The orgasm takes you by surprise you squeeze your eyes closed moaning into Simon’s chest. Johnny cums too as you’re clenched around him so tight he has to almost fight to keep inside you. You’re panting wet mess on Simon’s chest, Johnny bent over your back, you can feel his chest pressed up against you his heart racing. You both just lay there on top of Simon, Johnny feeling like a warm weighted blanket. 

“Move Johnny,” Simon says after a few seconds slapping Johnny’s thigh.

“In a second Si,” Johnny replies between breaths. You chuckle which makes him move you let out a yelp as he pulls out of you, your whole body tingling with overstimulation. Johnny slaps your ass which makes you jump and you go to sit up but Simon keeps his arms around you keeping you in place. 

“I’m going for a shower, there’s room for more.” Johnny says, you know he’s winking at Simon you can almost hear it. A shower does sound nice, you let out a long breath and Simon loosens his arms so you can sit up. You almost slip off him your thighs coated in your slick and cum.

You move to get off the bed Simon stands behind you. Your legs are wobbly as you both make your way to the bathroom. They have a big shower, maybe that was on purpose it means it’s perfectly comfortable for all three of you. You enjoy being pressed against their bodies as you wash each other. It’s a different kind of pleasure, feeling their hands run over you almost fighting each other for touch over your sensitive spots.

You let the steam make you sleepy your body always pressed against one of their chests, with the warm water splashing on your back you could nap right there. When you exit the shower your body feels heavy and you almost slip on the tiles. Someone grab's your arms pulling up up. It’s Simon he throws a towel over you and scoops you up in his arms. 

“Bedroom or sofa?” He asks.

“Bedroom.” You yawn. He puts you down and you dry yourself off as you pull on some underwear and a shirt. You crawl into bed as Simon grabs some clothes for him and Johnny.

“Don’t let me sleep too long, I have work tomorrow.” You say as your head hits the pillow. Simon chuckles.

“Okay, we’ll wake you up for dinner.” He says as he steps out the door. 

“I love you Simon.” You call. 

“I love you too.” He replies as he closes the door.  

——————————

I really don't know how I feel about this but I tried. XD

[irisintheafterglow]

satoru got his big break with the library desk employee. so what? university!suguru lost the bet, sure, but for some reason his interest in you didn't leave his mind. he'd known his best friend was crushing hard since the first time they'd entered the library and the pretty student smiled at satoru from behind the front desk.

i think i'm in love. suguru, hunched over a chemistry textbook, glances at satoru from the corner of his eye.

it's literally their job to make you feel welcome, genius.

but what if they, like, truly love me? he's dumbfounded by his friend's rose-colored delusion.

you're a doofus.

he continues thinking about it long after the study session concludes (a one sided session, since satoru insisted how he could woo the front desk assistant for the next two hours) and follows his normal routine of heading to the rec center to blow off some steam. he barely thinks twice about scanning the barcode on his phone at the entrance gates when the hairs on the back of his neck stand stick-straight. someone is watching him.

he scans the lobby and finds a pair of eyes across the floor, halfway hidden by a large counter for the member services desk. the eyes disappear before he can register who exactly was staring and you hope he didn't spot you as you duck behind the safety of the counter. suguru narrows his eyes but doesn't think twice about it.

the following week is when he makes the bet and hatches his plan to get satoru to shut up and take some of his money in the process. it felt like an easy victory: suguru knew he wasn't terrible looking, and you must've been interested considering how much you stared at him. he wasn't big on the school's dating scene and reserved his limited energy for whatever makeouts he found at his frat house's parties; to him, winning your naive affection would be a piece of cake. all he had to do was get your number and satoru's money would be his. simple enough, is what he thought.

but for the life of him, he could not catch you.

since the day he caught you staring, he noticed every time he entered the gym that you were looking and would duck away before he could so much as blink. at first, he lingered and waited for you to pop back up from behind the counter, but ended that strategy when he was asked if he was loitering on the property. the one time he approached the counter, you had conveniently disappeared to throw the intramural jerseys into the dryer...for the ten minutes he was waiting around for you to return. again, he was accused of loitering and forced to move on.

any progress with the rec worker? satoru whispered as he browsed for an interesting-enough looking book that he can make up small-talk over. he picks up a random one, something about technological advancements in ancient china, and tucks it under his arm.

i wish, suguru lamented. it's like they know i see them and are purposefully avoiding me so they don't have to talk to me.

i told you, i'd give you 'worst resting bitch face' if we could choose senior superlatives in high school, satoru reminds him with a thoughtful expression. also, you're in a frat! frat guys' reputation on campus isn't exactly the cleanest.

you're saying i need to look nicer? he examines his hoodie decorated with large iron-on patches of his frat's greek letters. it didn't look too dirty, he'd run it in the wash just last sunday...

i'm saying you need to look friendlier and less like a fuckboy.

oh. makes sense.

that's rich coming from you, suguru counters without acknowledging that maybe his friend was right. if he was going to woo you and hopefully knock down satoru's ego a few notches, he needed to be a little less...frat-like?

wordlessly taking the advice, he skips the loud philanthropy week shirt and opts for a plain muscle tee for his next gym session. black shirt and grey sweatpants shouldn't be too arrogant, right? he even practices his smile in the toothpaste-stained bathroom mirror until it's warm enough to save the titanic from the iceberg. tying his hair back so you can see all of his friendly face, he doesn't give you a moment to duck away when he steps through the doors at exactly 5:30pm.

he turns his head as soon as he steps into the air conditioning.

you're already staring.

he stares right back for a moment before pulling the corners of his mouth up ever so slightly, just like he practiced.

you gasp slightly and he thinks today is the day that you finally let him approach you.

unfortunately, his clothes, hair, face, and smile are enough to induce a nosebleed.

fuck!

by the time he rushes to the counter, eyes wide with panic, you've already shuffled away into the back and another worker informs him of your bloody-faced status. a little coyly than to go unnoticed, he notes to himself, but accepts his loss anyway and plans how to try again the next day.

after two weeks of putting on his plainest clothes, tying his cleanest hairdos, practicing his warmest smiles, and hurrying his fastest steps to get to the counter, suguru is absolutely ashamed to report that he's made zero progress.

interestingly enough, other girls at the gym had started to notice his changes in behavior and wardrobe, but he couldn't muster any energy to return their flirtations as they brush their fingers against his exposed biceps. all he could think about is you, and the way your eyes seem to sparkle when he meets them from across the lobby. he's snuck glances at the pens you abandon when you escape, the stickers on your water bottle, and the way you wear a special button on your uniform shirt every friday. you seem to always have a granola bar wrapper lingering on the desk, the same flavor each day but changing every week. he was learning so much about you without ever uttering a word, and it was killing him.

when satoru announces triumphantly that he finally got a date with the library attendant, suguru doesn't even blink. with his lack of progress, it was only a matter of time before his plan ultimately backfired and satoru was the true, smug winner of the bet. still, despite the earnings paid and the yapping continued, suguru wanted to talk to you. he wanted to learn about your interests, your goals, your life. he wanted to solve your mystery that he'd unknowingly forced himself into, and he'd be damned if he didn't at least get your name before the semester ended.

after months of waiting for you to talk to him, he swallows his pride and goes to the gym half an hour early.

"hi," he says carefully while you finish up whatever was on your computer screen.

"hi there, how can i help y--" when you finally meet his eyes, your practiced smile drops into pure shock and you take several moments to snap your face back into place. "i...um...how can i--oh!" you whirl around to your nearest coworker at a whiplash-causing speed, rambling quickly about how you forgot to inflate the volleyballs for the playoffs or some bullshit. thankfully, your coworker just blinks at you and then says that they can take care of it, patting your shoulder reassuringly and giving suguru a knowing look. before he knows it, it's you and him, just the moment he's been waiting for, and he has no idea what to say.

"i'm sorry that i--"

"i was wondering if you--"

you both tumble over your words at the same time and he chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. his bicep flexes with the motion and he catches your eyes rake it over. fearful of another nosebleed, he drops his arm abruptly and blurts out whatever words he can before you can scurry away.

"get dinner with me."

"i-i'm sorry?"

"i was wondering if you wanted to, you know," he shrugs sheepishly and is suddenly glad that none of his friends are there to tease his embarrassment, "get dinner sometime."

"you want to go on a date with me," you echo in disbelief. he nods slowly like any sudden movement would frighten you. "but...but why?"

"i think you're really pretty," he replies simply.

"but i've been hiding from you for the past--"

"two months, one week, and four days," he finishes for you before he can think about what he's saying. "i mean, not that i'm counting." your face finally breaks its shell of surprise and you burst out laughing. suguru thinks it's the best sound he's ever had the privilege of experiencing.

"so, just to be clear," you confirm when you've caught your breath. "i've been avoiding talking to you because seeing you look so good gives me nose bleeds. and now you want to get dinner with me?"

"i can bring copious amounts of tissues just in case, but yes." his expression becomes gravely serious, like he was giving you a request on his death bed. "please, say yes."

if it meant seeing how brightly you smiled when you finally murmur a yes, he would go through the entire bet with satoru three times over.

here u go @damb-it <3 hope you like it - sincerely, a library guest services attendant