#Goal-based SIP

[curiousquill1]

Learn how mutual fund portfolio analysis can enhance the efficiency of your tax-saving SIP plans by identifying underperforming funds, aligning with goals, and maximizing returns.

[indianfinance]

Plan Your Investments Smarter with This SIP Calculator

If you’ve ever wondered how much your monthly SIP (Systematic Investment Plan) could grow over time, you’re not alone. Most new investors jump into mutual funds without having a clear projection of their returns.

That’s where an SIP calculator can help.

📊 It’s a simple tool that shows you:

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A complete breakdown of your returns over time

After trying a bunch of tools, I came across one that’s both clean and super easy to use: 👉 https://www.finowings.com/Mutual-Fund/sip-calculator

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Why Use an SIP Calculator?

✅ Helps you plan for long-term goals (like a house, education, retirement)

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🔗 Whether you're starting your first SIP or just reviewing your investments, this tool can give you the clarity you need.

Check it out and let me know what you think!

[ambition-finserve]

Unlocking Financial Success: Finding the Best Mutual Fund Distributor in Beawar

In the dynamic landscape of financial markets, making informed investment decisions is crucial for achieving long-term financial goals. For residents of Beawar, a key concern is often finding the right financial partner to guide them through the complex world of mutual funds. In this pursuit, identifying the best mutual fund distributor becomes paramount.

Navigating the Financial Maze: The Need for Expert Guidance

Beawar, like any other city, is home to a diverse population with varying financial aspirations. Many individuals face a common challenge: the lack of financial expertise to make sound investment decisions. This gap often leads to missed opportunities and suboptimal investment choices. Enter mutual funds – a popular and accessible investment avenue for those seeking to grow their wealth.

Why Do You Need a Mutual Fund Distributor in Beawar?

Choosing the right mutual fund distributor is akin to having a financial guide by your side. Here's why you need one:

Expertise Matters: Mutual funds can be complex, with various schemes catering to different risk appetites. An experienced mutual fund distributor in Beawar possesses the knowledge to align your investment goals with the most suitable funds.

Customized Solutions: A skilled distributor understands that one size does not fit all. Every individual has a unique financial situation, so he/she customizes the investment strategy and the portfolio according to the needs. It can be a short-term or long-term objective.

Risk Mitigation: Investing always involves an element of risk. A proficient mutual fund sip advisor in Beawar helps you navigate these risks by providing insights into market trends and adjusting your portfolio accordingly.

Benefits of Choosing the Best Mutual Fund Distributor

Optimized Returns: With a deep understanding of market dynamics, the best mutual distributor can identify opportunities that maximize returns while minimizing risks.

Portfolio Diversification: It is a key investment strategy to help individuals minimize the risk and improve returns. A skilled distributor helps you diversify across different asset classes, ensuring a well-balanced and resilient portfolio.

Regular Monitoring: Financial markets are dynamic, and staying updated is essential. Your chosen distributor keeps a vigilant eye on your investments, making timely adjustments to capitalize on emerging opportunities or mitigate potential losses.

Conclusion: Partnering for Financial Success

Choosing the best mutual fund distributor is not just a prudent decision; it's a step toward financial empowerment. At Ambition Finserve, we understand the unique financial landscape of Beawar and are committed to guiding you toward your financial aspirations. Explore the world of mutual funds with confidence, knowing that you have a trusted partner by your side.

Embark on your financial journey with Ambition Finserve – Your Gateway to Financial Excellence.

[allfearstofallto]

When it Comes to You

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: 18+ MDNI, Yandere content, bribery, blackmail, Dub-con, Reader works at a brothel (is not a courtesan)

AN: I've just been watching a lot of apothecary diaries tbh and I needed to write something

A job is a job, you often thought to yourself as you tried not to cough from the smell of booze and tobacco, and mora is mora. You didn't have the luxury of denying yourself a single cent. Every little piece of gold, shiny and polished or scuffed and dirty was one step closer to your goal and another away from your debt. Away from him, who didn't try to hide that he was finding his pleasure in watching you drowning under the weight of your obligations.

You were to pour drinks. Whether it be tea, water, or wine. Scurry around the large main hall, entertain the guests waiting for their chances with a lady of the night and pour their drinks. Keep a smile on their faces and their pockets empty. Keep them distracted from just how much they were spending, keep their cigars lit, keep them cheerful and drunk. All simple tasks, in theory. In practice you ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, all while the guests leered at you like a piece of meat. It was dehumanizing, but it paid well and paid quickly. You'd receive a bag of mora at the end of every shift, the amount varying based on how well you'd done that day.

Most of it, you couldn't keep. After paying for necessities, you'd walk on your aching feet to the northland bank and pay off a bit more of your debt. You were barely chipping at the high fortune that you owed, but anything was better than the alternative.

And much to your dismay, the alternative was sitting at one of your tables. With that same empty eyed smile and one long leg casually crossed over the other. He tapped his finger against the rim of his empty glass, taunting you in the one place where he knew you couldn't retaliate. Another lady approached him, head bowed while she attempted to pour his wine, but he shooed her away just as quickly with a wave of his hand. He didn't want her, he wanted you. He wanted you to see and know that he wanted you.

You couldn't look angry, nor annoyed, anything less than an enthusiastic smile meant less pay. So with your lips curled too tightly, to the point of near pain, you kneeled next to his table and filled his glass with the cooled liquid. Ajax seemed pleased with your service. Although, he always seemed pleased when you were around. He kept a smile on his face in your presence , not because he had to, but because he wanted to, like he was incapable of looking anything but smug when near you. With that same expression, he took a singular sip of his wine before sitting the glass back on the table. 

“Stay,” he ordered quickly when he saw even the flicker of possibility of you leaving. You stayed kneeled next to his table as you were told, the last thing you needed was him complaining to your boss, a habit he'd made to keep you as in debt as possible. And Ajax was a high paying customer, one that they wanted to keep. His words were like law to your employers, anything less than perfection with his service would be met with the dock of your pay.

Ajax wanted you to be as poor as possible. He wanted you to be pressed under his thumb, to be weak to his will and in need of his favors. It was those same favors that'd gotten you into this mess now, and those same favors were only digging your hole deeper. You owed him a lot. Not him, per say, but the Northland bank. Usually owing money meant you'd be shaken down by a low level fatui foot soldier, yet Ajax had taken a particularly notable interest in you. One that did more harm than good. It bordered on obsession, although he'd play that observation off with a smile.

“You're late,” his words were followed by another sip of wine. He didn't have to tell you what you were late on, you knew he was referring to a payment. There was a happy chirp to the way he spoke, a playful sweetness to his tone that would've been charming, had he not been smiling at your misery.

“I paid yesterday,” you insisted. It was difficult getting your anger across with a forced smile on your face, but your strained voice and gritted teeth would have to suffice.

“You paid the principal,” he playfully tapped your nose with the cold tip of his finger and you resisted the urge to snap and bite, “Not your interest.”

“I was told I could pay it later, I'll have it by the end of the week,”

“Told by whom? Was it me?” He looked so proud of himself as he spoke watching you grow more and more frustrated while being unable to express it, “If it wasn't by me then it wasn't part of your arrangement.”

“I can pay at the end of the night if you wait for my shift to be over,” you sighed, letting the smile drop for only a moment. You thought it strange how sweetly the teller at the bank was when she insisted that you could pay the interest later. Against your better judgement, you listened. Why were you dumb enough to think you had allies on your side? To think that he wasn't still pulling strings, even when he was nowhere near.

An expression crossed Ajax's face. A familiar one. A bad one. The look he made when an idea struck him. Or, perhaps when he knew he'd finally be able to get what he wanted. That's the look he gave you, and felt your heart sink. 

“You won't make enough,” there he was again, saying those harsh words with a singsong tone, reveling in your misfortune, “With the late fee on top, you'll be short.”

You scoffed, letting the cheerful facade drop. There'd never been a late fee before, but Childe was insistent in getting what he truly wanted from you. Your one slip up was going to be your detriment, and his greatest achievement so far. You could see it in the sparkle in his dead, hollow blue eyes. He was anticipating just this, almost as if he'd plotted the entire thing himself. A conspiracy like that wasn't far off in terms of what the man in front of you was capable of, the one who was looking down upon your pitiful kneeling form in delight about the ownership of you that he dangled over your head.

“Take me as a client tonight and consider yourself cleared of this weeks payment-”

Your glossed lips parted quickly to stop his train of thoughts, but he cut you off by placing a finger against them. You couldn't see it, but you could feel the soft shade from your lips smear across his digit and onto your cheek.

“-and the next,”

You felt your world stop at this statement. Suddenly, the brothel that was so noisy and overbearing, was silent. Two weeks with no payment? Childe was never that generous. But he was also a man who was always two steps ahead. He'd been wanting to bed you since the day you walked into that bank the first time. All smiles with a hand resting too low upon your waist while selling you a loan that would essentially take your entire life to pay back. You were naive then. Naive and desperate. And somehow, you were worse now.

When things were rough and you knew you didn't have the money to pay him, he'd accept little things. A date. Handholding. A hug. There was even a day where he accepted a kiss upon the lips in exchange for a week's payment. 

A real kiss. 

He wanted you to initiate. He wanted you seated on his lap, your tongue in his mouth, he wanted to claim you completely, while making it feel like you desired it too.

The kiss was suffocating and vile, not romantic at all. It was a kiss that screamed ownership and possession, nothing close to a true affection. You couldn't even pull away when you wanted to, his hand was holding the back of your head, keeping you in place while he lapped at the inside of your mouth, slurping at your tongue while simultaneously tracing his fingertips over your cheeks.

“I don't take customer's, I'm not a-” you couldn't bring yourself to speak the word, but all he did was cock an eyebrow at your silence.

“Anything can be arranged,”

A deal that feels too good to be true, is usually just that. His smirk, mischievous and cold spoke of a desire that wouldn't end with one taste of your body. Silently, you were cursing yourself for even considering it. Having your head above the water, even if just for a week more would be like a balm to your soul, but at what cost?

“Two weeks?” You peaked up at him through your lashes. The way his smile spread told you that you were already making the wrong decision, but you didn't turn back, “You have to promise me Childe, do you mean it?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” his words made you feel even sicker as he mimicked the childish gesture.

His hand was outstretched to you, fingers long and lanky, still wet and cold from the condensation of his glass. The sight of that hand was familiar. The last deal you'd made with the man being the reason you worked yourself to the bone now. The last time you'd shaken that same, cold hand, you'd done something stupid. It was a bad deal. It was always a bad deal with him. There was always some hidden clause or play of words that you didn't decipher quick enough, always something hidden up his sleeve, especially when it came to you.

And despite your better judgement, you still shook his hand. Instead of feeling the weight of the world fall off of your shoulders, you only felt it grow heavier upon your already weak body. It was better to give it to him now, than have him take it later, right? Who knew what he had planned for you if you couldn't pay.

“Shall we take a room upstairs?” He pointed to the staircase. Only courtesans and their clients used those stairs. You were sure he knew that, yet he spoke as if he also knew that there would be one free for the two of you to use together, like he'd planned this very scenario from the get go.

The thought wasn't lost on you. Ajax always planned things to a tee, when it came to you.

[csainzoperator]

college bf! f1 drivers pt 1 ☆

summary: college bf! f1 drivers text messages with small written snippets based on the texts :)

warnings: fem pronouns, kys jokes, cursing, mentions of kissing, kissing, slightly suggestive, nicknames (baby, babe, love), typos (?)

read more below the cut !

charles leclerc

you grab a can of grape soda and search for a place to sit. you find a corner near the window, the fresh spring breeze rustling your hair. you sit down and wait patiently for charles. a few minutes later he's walking inside the canteen, towards you. he's smiling big and as soon as he reaches you, he grabs your face, placing chaste kisses on your cheek and lips.

"hey, baby" he greets you. you smile and reply "hi"

he takes a seat beside you and raises his eyebrows, like he's waiting for you to do something. you raise your eyebrows in return. he grumbles out a few words which you cannot decipher. you nudge him softly as you ask him to repeat. "i didn't get my kiss!" he says, rolling his eyes playfully.

"oh you big baby" you say as you grab his face a drop a few kisses on his cheek. your lipstick staining his cheek. you caress his cheek to wipe it away. "happy?" you question him. he nods, "very. afterall, i ditched my class to be here with you."

your smile fades a bit, feeling a little guilty as you had called him so abruptly. you shove him playfully, making him stand up "go back, the class would've just started. you can still make it"

he frowns. he shakes his head, "its not an important class, he's just doing some revision."

"revision is important! i just needed to see my boyfriend for a little boost. i'm good now. go!"

he reluctantly lets go. he places a kiss on your forehead and promises to come visit your dorm later in the evening. you smile up at him and reach for your soda, only to see it in charles' hand. he gives you a wink as he leaves, taking a sip from the can.

carlos sainz

the game had just ended, and you were so incredibly proud of your boyfriend. he had scored a goal for the team. the winning goal. you smiled in excitement, waiting for the team to let go of your boyfriend so you can congratulate him. he spots you standing nearby and excuses himself from his team mates. he walks over to you, picking you up as he reaches you.

you yelp in surprise and hold onto him tight. wrapping your arms around his neck, laughing. "congrats, baby. that was amazing!" he smiles brightly, kissing your cheek. "thank you, mia cara" he says. he puts you down gently and wraps his arms around you.

"you came" he says, kissing the side of your forehead.

"i wouldn't be anywhere else"

after a few seconds, you swat him away. "look at all that sweat. ugh get away from me" you complain, rolling your eyes playfully

he picks you up again, walking towards his car. "put me down, you sick fuck" you wrap your arms around him as he fastens his pace, making you laugh. "now i'm all sweat"

"gives us another reason to shower together" he says, a slight smirk making its way onto his face.

lewis hamilton

you pick your phone up as soon as you're done showering and putting on some comfortable clothes. you click on the face time button and set your phone up on the bed, pillows as the support. you wait for lewis to pick, which doesn't take long as he picks up in a couple of rings.

you smile at him "what's up, princess?" the words slip past you automatically, like you've said this to him a thousand times. which you have.

he grunts in mock annoyance. "come save me, i'm stuck here" he says, his face showing how he hated being in that party. you could hear loud snarky music in the background.

"i wish i could, i left my car for service" you smile at him apologetically. he groans and starts walking towards a balcony of some sort, or an open space. it was much more peaceful. you could hear him more clearly now.

"will you please stay with me on ft for a while? until my room mate decides to leave. which will be soon because he's drunk out of his mind." he says, sitting down on a stool. the night breeze making him shiver.

you spoke for a few minutes until his friend decided to leave. lewis said he'd be near your dorm after dropping his mate in the room. he said he desperately needed your hug.

george russell

you shared your live location with george. you were currently walking towards your dorm. you felt his strong cologne engulf you before his arms did. you smile as you walk with george, his arm draped around your waist. "well, hello there" you amuse.

"don't you ever scare me like that. do you know how much i died on the inside?" he questions you, giving your waist a squeeze. you kiss his cheek, hoping to calm his nerves. "i told you, baby! i fell asleep in the library. ms sanders woke me up. i was exhausted after that 12 page essay"

"its okay, i know. you need to rest, love. did you eat yet?" he questions, as you both enter your dorm.

you shake your head, "i had breakfast, slept through lunch"

he looks at you like you've grown two heads. he grabs your hand and starts walking towards the exit. you let out a chuckle "now where are we headed to, girl?"

he looks at you, giving you a mock glare. "girl? what happened to bf, love, baby, cutie?"

he tells you to wait near the exit. a few minutes later, he's there with his bike. he motions for you to hop on. you smile as you get on, getting comfortable behind him. "we are getting some food into that stomach of yours" he says, handing you your helmet.

you wrap your arms around his torso. you knew. you knew, even if he had the most important thing to do, he would drop it to look after you. not because you were his girlfriend. but because you were his priority. because you were important. and he was deeply, madly, desperately, messily in love with you.

max verstappen

you were in your university park, sitting under a tree. the guy you were supposed to be doing your political science project was doing anything but the project. you were not a patient person, and it was getting harder as the guy even kept touching your shoulder now and then.

to your rescue, your boyfriend was right there. he walked towards the both of you. he took his seat next to you, giving the guy a timid 'pls fuck of soon' smile. he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. he sat there as you guys actually started to discuss your project.

the guy clearly didn't get the hint as he still tried to make contact with you now and then. the third time, max was done with all the utter bullshit that he was witnessing. he pulled you closer to him

"you know, i would really like it if you got your stupid ass hand off my girl" he says, making the guy frown in annoyance. within seconds, the guy is scurrying off.

you let out a delayed laugh. you look up at max. he shrugs, giving you an innocent smile. "you can't actually say that, max!"

he kisses your forehead, whispering "i just did, baby."

he brushes your arm near the place where the guy touched you. "what are you doing?" you question.

"dusting off his filthiness from you. maybe we should get back to my dorm. shower the filthiness off after i watch you finish on my face." he offers his reply. you shove him playfully. "you're the filthy one"

he stares, kissing your lips softly, mumbling, "you make me."

the end

an: had so much fun making these. hope u enjoy!

[oatmealwrites]

NSFW Holiday Hoes: [Frat JJK AU] Gojo Satoru x F! Reader

Is it casual now?

Oncology student! Frat President! Fwb Satoru x Reader

holiday hoes masterlist here

regular masterlist here

Synopsis: Holiday season is always referred to as 'cuffing season' though he never really saw the point. Why want a real relationship when your casual affair offers everything he wants... or so he thought. Matching sweaters, gift wrapping, and sipping hot cocoa definitely isn't casual.. but it's all he wants for Christmas this year.

Tags: fwb, friends to lovers, Jealous! gojo, car sex, oral (m and f receiving), semi-public sex, helpless pinning on both sides, domestic fluff, shoko & utahime your roommates, wingman suguru, mentions of alcohol, some angst, satoru is bad communicator, making out, hickies, grinding, erection, face riding, missionary, p in v, creampie, aftercare, established relationship, fluff ending, 18+, MDNI

Word count: 11.5k (im cooking again)

a/n: sorry this took wayy to long, it's been a hectic week and a half as I get back to campus. BUT, my writing schedule should finally be stable! enjoy~

~~~~~~~

The windows of the white Mercedes have been fogged over for the past 10 minutes, and there were occasional shakes of the vehicle when you both shimmied into the backseat. The radio plays a mix of top 40 and residual holiday music while a cold winter wind howls outside. People scurry around the parking lot to enter the large shopping mall while others shuffle into their cars to avoid the harsh weather; everyone oblivious to what was happening in this vehicle. 

“Fuck… just like that princess…”

With your lips around his cock and globs of saliva dripping from your mouth, Satoru sits partially beneath you with his thighs splayed apart. Baggy jeans tugged down to his mid thigh and the fabric of his sweatshirt bunched up in his fist for a better view, the sight beneath him is familiar and heavenly. 

Taking the length you couldn’t fit in your mouth in your hand, your head bobs up and down with your tongue laying flat. Sweet pre-cum coats your tastebuds and you can feel the swollen veins that litter his dick throb with increased blood flow. White strands of pubic hair don’t tickle your face, but surround his base; Satoru always makes sure to trim before the two of you hang out.

Sucking him off in the backseat of his car wasn’t the goal of meeting up with him on this chilly afternoon, though it wasn’t particularly surprising. A mutual agreement formed between the both of you, close friends who just happened to be a bit closer than most. 

“Nnfghh…s-shit…gonna fucking cum soon…”

Satoru winces in pleasure and his hips jerk forward to get just a bit more of his length into your mouth. Jaw beginning to ache from keeping it open and lips swollen from his abuse, your hands move to cup his heavy balls and massage them the way he always likes. A few more whimpers and curses leave his lips and Satoru moves to take another chunk of your hair away from your face and into a messy ponytail. 

“Ca–Can I come inside?”

You consider it for a moment, recognizing you had actually remembered to bring your lip gloss this time, and not minding to reapply after you swallow. There’s no verbal communication needed, you bring your mouth to his flushed tip and lick it a few times in approval. 

That’s all Satoru needs to see, bucking hips forward and guiding your head to jerk off his tip in a faster motion before furrowing his brows in pleasure. Hot ropes of semen pour from his cock and into your mouth; the salty and thick liquid a taste you’ve had several times before. 

Satoru fucks himself through his orgasm by gently guiding your head, before slipping out from your lips with a pathetic wince. Despite panting heavily with a mind half-drunk in pleasure, a warm hand cups your cheek while his thumb wipes away any cum that had missed your mouth.

You stay hovering over his softening erection and thickly swallow the semen on your tongue before sitting upright and bringing a hand through your unruly hair. Following the routine, Satoru slips himself back into his boxers and jeans before leaning up to the front console and passing you your water bottle.

The cool liquid washes any taste down your throat, and you swish the water in your mouth a few times before swallowing with a sigh. Silently, Satoru fishes his fallen sunglasses from the car floor and opens his cell phone camera to place them over his eyes and fix his own hair.  

“What time is it?” you ask, while wiping your lips with the back of your hand and pulling out your lipgloss from your jeans pocket. 

“Mmmm, almost 3:15.” Satoru slides his phone into his back pocket and confirms the keys and wallet are still in his sweatshirt pouch. “We should head inside.”

You run one more hand through your hair before slipping on your winter coat and opening the backseat car door. Wind pushes it open harder than you anticipate, and you dive out to catch it before it bangs into the very expensive car parked way too close to yours.

“Geez, tryna scratch my car?”

Satoru laughs while waiting for you to shut the door so he can lock it and walk alongside you to the mall entrance. Pulling your arms into yourself, the cool temperature makes your skin raw and pink.

“I was trying to not dent your door, idiot.”

“Hmm?” Satoru zips his parka up to his chin and smiles sheepishly at you. “That’s good. I was worried you thought I wouldn’t reciprocate and decided to take it out on me.”

You roll your eyes and increase your speed; Satoru’s step length is so long it doesn’t bother him to keep up at all. A few families and couples pass as they walk to their cars, huddled close together to stay warm from the winter wind.

Satoru leans in with a wolfish grin now splayed on his lips. “I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?”

You nudge him in the ribs and keep your head down to avoid the blistering gust that pushes your hair back. The man at your side laughs to himself, though you both know he means it. You and Satoru were in an arranged, casual, platonic, friends with benefits agreement; that doesn’t mean he ever leaves you unsatisfied though. Anytime you made him cum, he made sure to repay the favor with his tongue, fingers, or cock within 24 hours. 

“What are you even looking to buy here anyways? I thought you ordered your Secret Santa gift online.”

Satoru steps ahead of you to open the heavy glass entrance doors and pivots to let you enter before matching to walk beside you once more.

“I was going to, but all the delivery options would be too late.”

You hum in thought and head towards the mall directory to survey the stores; the shopping complex isn’t overwhelming as most people had already done their shopping before the holidays. Tracing the floorplan with your finger, you linger on floor 2 marked as the ‘home and appliance’ section.

Satoru sways next to you, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Who do you have anyways?”

“Nanami.”

Tapping on ‘William and Sonoma’, you follow Satoru’s gaze which stares at ‘Best Buy’.

“You have Inumaki, right?”

“Yep.”

You survey the time once more before starting towards the escalator. “Let’s hit your store first since it’s on the way. If we finish early, I wanna do some shopping.”

Satoru steps on the moving stair beneath you, but doesn’t need to look up to meet your gaze. “Aren’t we already shopping?”

“No, like shopping for me.”

He shrugs and the frame of his circular sunglasses slides down his nose slightly before a long index finger pushes them back up. The mall is still decorated for the holidays; seasonal music plays in the background while ornate garland sparkles with LEDs and hangs from every banister. 

“What were you thinking of buying for Inumaki anyways?”

“Well, Yuji always complains about his shitty microphone when they game,” Satoru says while following you off the escalator and into the electronics store entrance. “I figured a new mic would be easy.”

It’s actually a thoughtful gift idea; which comes as a bigger surprise than you expected. Sure, you and Satoru are close friends, but you always chalked him up to being the kind of guy who just hands you a gift card because he couldn’t figure out what you wanted. Though to be fair, you and him never really exchanged physical gifts; the both of you settled into your fwb agreement early on and only traded sexual favors and fantasies. 

“Alright then.” You look up at the signs hanging from the ceiling for a moment. “Audio equipment is aisle 7.”

Walking side by side, the two of you scan the racks of microphones for ones compatible with his PC and settle between two options. Satoru grabs both boxes and tilts his head between the two.

You glance between them. “The one on your left is way over budget. Isn’t the max like, $25?”

“Yea, but-” He holds up the expensive option. “But this one is in the color he likes.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t argue; knowing him well enough to understand budget restrictions were merely suggestions in his eyes. Satoru turns the box around and smiles when he notices there’s no obvious price tag that would make Inumaki feel bad upon receiving such a nice gift and turns for the checkouts.

“Alright, that’s one down. Where to next?”

Watching Satoru tap the gaudy metallic black credit card on the payment terminal, he shoots a wink to the cashier and smoothly slides to resume his place at your side.

“I’m thinking of checking out William and Sonoma?”

Your friend hums in agreement and follows closely at your side while you peruse the aisles of the baking and cooking equipment. Every price tag you turn over makes you wince, and Satoru isn’t particularly helpful as he skims through every cookbook he passes.

“Think you can make this one? Kikufuku sounds kinda hard–what’s that?”

Satoru cuts himself off and pads over to where you stand hovering over a very nice and very expensive Le Creset.

“It’s a Dutch oven; you can make a lot of things like bread,” you say, voice falling at the number of zeroes on the tag.

What you had figured out from your time with the man is that Nanami was an all around foodie with a particular favoritism for baked goods. Looking back, you definitely should've double checked the prices online before walking in; each one carries a price tag way out of the Secret Santa limit and your personal budget.

“$360? That’s not too bad.” Satoru flicks the price tag out of his fingers and lifts the lid of the turquoise Dutch oven. “I mean, I don’t know what I’d do with it… but Nanami would probably be into it.”

“It’s a gift for him, not you, idiot.” You sigh and run your fingers down the side of the glossy finish.

Satoru doesn’t mind the nickname and tilts his head before looking around the store and noticing an array of red sale signs. Silently he takes your hand and dejectedly you obey and follow him to the far back corner of the building.

“Just buy a broken one and fix it. Good as new.”

You raise an eyebrow before examining the clearance racks ahead of you; Satoru is already reaching on the higher shelf to pull down a pale yellow Dutch oven that was missing a handle. Same brand, though slightly smaller. He pops the lid off to reveal the unattached handle that simply needs some sanding and super glue.

“Woa… you’re a genius.”

“Yea, well, it’s no mystery why I'm at the top of the oncology department.”

“Hm? Suguru told me that you definitely bottom.”

Satoru scoffs and shoves your shoulder, murmuring about how you of all people should know how well he tops you. You pay no mind to his complaints; turning the ceramic instrument over and settling on the reduced price of $35.99 to be justifiable considering the budget.

The two of you head for the checkouts and return to the walkways of the mall, satisfied with your timing so far on the shopping trip. You lean against the glass railing and pull out your phone while Satoru mirrors your position and scrolls through a few messages.

“Can I come to your place after this?”

You hum absentmindedly and respond to the DM Shoko had sent you earlier. “Sure, why though?”

“Suguru is having Choso over for a board game and smoke sesh. Plus I don’t have any wrapping paper.”

You roll your eyes at his lack of preparation, but accept his self-invitation. Pulling up the roommate group chat between you, Shoko, and Utahime, your pulse stops at the most recent messages.

Sho(e)ko: He’s gonna be at the party @ y/n

Utahimeh: huh?? Who?? 

Sho(e)ko: that guy from the law dept. I think his name’s Higuroma?

Utahimeh: Higuruma. And he’s not part of greek life i thought?

Satoru waits for your response to his follow up question and finally looks up from his phone to see you immersed in yours. The lack of attention given makes him nudge your forearm down.

“Huh?”

The white haired man lowers his glasses to raise an eyebrow at you. “I was asking what other store you wanted to see. But–,” he makes a swipe at your phone but narrowly misses.

“–Hey!”

Now any other time Satoru would shrug and continue talking about whatever was on his mind. Any other time. It’s not rare for you to ignore to wave off his loud mouth, but seeing you so absorbed in something without letting him in on it was rare. 

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

You don’t reply, and instead slip your phone into your front pocket to avoid his advances. Satoru raises an eyebrow at you and shrugs in suspicion before turning his attention to the rest of the mall. “Alright… Now let’s finish this up. I hate crowded places.”

Without pressing further, you both make your way to a department store near the main entrance and you waste no time going through the after-holiday sale racks. Satoru lingers at the men’s cologne section before wandering back over to you and leaning against the metal clothing racks in boredom.

“Why are you shopping anyway? I’ve seen your closet…. There’s no room.”

You roll your eyes and keep dragging hangers down. “I have nothing to wear for the party.”

Satoru audibly groans at this and slinks further onto the rack; arching his back like a shrimp. With a couple more slides of the articles of clothing, you pause. Mistakenly placed on the woman’s racks was a clearance turquoise men’s cashmere sweater.

With wide eyes, you slide it off the the rack and hold it up to guess how well the size would fit.

“You’re gonna wear that to the party?”

“No.” You roll your eyes at him and hold the article up. “What do you think about this for Nanami?”

If Satoru was barely paying attention earlier, he sure was locked in right now. 

“Huh? But what about that other thing you bought? The… danish stove?”

“Dutch oven,” you correct before shrugging. “I dunno. I could always keep that and give him this. It’s like his signature color.”

Satoru eyes the sweater and then glances back at you for a moment; peeking out from under your coat was a knit turtleneck collar of nearly the same color. In the moments waiting for his answer, you don’t see the way his brain is working out a million different scenarios; all of which create an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

“Nah, go with the oven. A sweater is too much.”

“Too much?” You spin it around and eye the price tag of $27, still out of budget, but closer to the goal. 

Satoru shrugs and looks off at the other racks. “Yea like vibe wise. Don’t we need to find something for you to wear before you shop for him?”

Blinking a few times, you slide the sweater back into its new home on the women’s clearance rack and sigh lightly; though not having to buy a new gift does help the stress on your wallet. Satoru watches you now slide through the racks while an indescribable feeling washes over him as you still keep glancing at the men’s sweater in consideration.

You’re still working it out in your brain and Satoru can read it all over your face. Suguru was up late last night listening to music and smoking with Shoko; the lack of sleep and overstimulation from such a busy place is how rationalizes the thoughts going through his head. 

“Let’s get matching ones. For the party.”

The hanger on the rack screeches to a halt as you look up at him with confusion knit in your brows.

“Huh?”

Satoru licks his lips and speaks a bit slower, “Matching sweaters. We should get some for the party, it’ll be hilarious.”

Raising an eyebrow at the man, you drink in the way his glasses have slid down the bridge of his nose slightly and reveal his pale blue eyes. The electricity in them leaves you momentarily speechless as his proposal slowly works its way through your brain.

“Why though?” You look around the clearance racks as if you’re really considering it. “We won’t even find a matching set here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer your first question and instead ducks his head to point out the holly red cardigan you were currently hovering over. “We’ll match colors then. Nice and easy.”

You blink and look down at the sweater you were just considering and chew the inside of your cheek; before you can ask again why he wanted to match, Satoru is already making a beeline for the men’s section. 

Shifting through hangers himself, he wastes no time pulling off a cashmere luxury-labeled sweater in the same bright red color. A light jog to catch up to him, Satoru takes the cardigan from your hands and throws it over his forearm with his own sweater before looking for the checkouts. 

******

The ride back to your apartment was as normal as it could be. The radio played top hits in the background while you and Satoru talked about whatever came to mind; gossip about the newest pledge Yuji and his brother(?) Todo, updates on the amount of subscribers on Inumaki’s twitch, and jokes about how Yuta still couldn’t beat Maki at any drinking game they played.

By the time you turn the key in the lock and are greeted by the sound of music playing on the tv and the chatter of your roommates, you’ve forgotten all about your stupid matching sweaters.

“Hey guys!” Utahime waves from her spot on the floor in front of the wrapping paper. “Back already?”

“Yep! Got our Secret Santa gifts~ so no peeking!”

You smile at her and kick off your winter boots before shimmying out of your coat and placing the brown shopping bags on the small kitchen table. Satoru follows suit and makes himself comfortable opening your pantry in search of something sweet.

“Oh, you’re here?” Shoko wanders out of her bedroom and directs her attention to the only man in the room.

“Ya, Choso is over to smoke with Suguru.”

She shrugs at the reason and joins him in the kitchen to fill a glass of water and eyes the bags on the counter before looking at you.

“What’d you get?”

You unwrap the scarf from around your neck and place it with your coat on the hooks. “Secret Santa gift, and a sweater for me.”

Shoko takes a sip of the water from her glass and peers into the bag; raising an eyebrow, she turns to you again.

This time, Satoru finally pulls out a small canister from the pantry and shoots her a grin. “Oh! We’re gonna be matching– it’ll be hilarious!”

You scoff while Shoko fishes out one of the sweaters from the bag and raises it slightly. “It’s not an ‘ugly sweater’ though… so why’s it funny–”

“Hot chocolate anyone?”

Satoru cuts her off and slams the pantry closed before tapping the lid of the powdered beverage container. Shoko processes slowly, shoots him a knowing glance that you can’t quite read, and releases the fabric into the bag again.

Shoko walks over to grab some wrapping paper from Utahime, Satoru takes out a few mugs from the cabinet, and you stand beside him to grab a big enough pot to begin boiling some milk. The moment is calm and familial as you both work on following the simple printed recipe while your roommates prepare their last few gifts before the party.

“Mmm this calls for 2 tablespoons per person… Satoru you definitely put in too much.”

“It’ll taste better that way.”

You hum and stir the simmering pot regardless while your friends on the floor whisper amongst themselves. Satoru pays no mind to them either, fishing out marshmallows and whipped cream and placing them next to the mugs.

Despite the small shake of her head to stop Shoko, Utahime sighs and watches as the woman leans against the couch and waves her phone.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You murmur a hum and nudge Satoru’s arm to not spill while he ladled the hot beverage into each mug.

“You never answered us earlier! Higuruma was asking about what to bring to the Secret Santa.”

Time stops and you release from Satoru’s arm to spin and face Shoko with eyes wide open.

“No way? He texted?”

Shoko smirks and nods slowly while Utahime is looking between her and the man behind you with a worried expression. Sure, you thought Higuruma was hot, hell who didn’t? But to ask if you wanted anything for him to bring made a giddy feeling wash over you.

The way you seem at a loss for words and begin sheepishly trying to work out the logistics of the Uber ride with a questionable amount of liquor bottles, you miss the way Satoru stops dividing the hot cocoa and stares at you. There’s an unreadable expression on his face as an unfamiliar emotion builds in his guts. 

No. 

It’s not unfamiliar; he’s felt it before a million times over, even earlier at the mall. Satoru swallows thickly and reaches to coat the top of his hot cocoa with a thick layer of whipped cream and chocolate syrup before reaching to pass you a mug.

“I can drive you guys, if you want. It's gonna be at my and Suguru's apartment anyways.”

You immediately pause from your position hunched over your phone to compare rideshare app prices for a larger vehicle and look up at the man; his hand reaches out to pass you a serving of hot cocoa. 

“Huh? It’s fine if we,” Shoko motions between herself, Utahime, and you, “ride together. Aren’t you and Suguru going early to set up decorations and drinks?”

Satoru shrugs and replies as if it were simple. “Nah, that’s new pledges jobs this time. I don’t mind swinging by to pick you up. Besides–” he swings an arm around your shoulder. “-there’s no point in matching if we don’t show up together~.”

“Seriously?” you sigh to him.

“Yep.”

You raise an eyebrow at him and hover your lips above the rim of the mug to blow steam away before taking a sip. Shoko keeps a knowing glance on Satoru, which he returns, before slinking back down to the floor and assisting Utahime with adding the finishing touches to the present in front of them.

You move slightly to confront him once again and ask why he would drive you and your roommate so suddenly, when he slides to grab the paper shopping bags and moves to the apartment floor. Music continues playing in the background as you watch the way your roommates shuffle over to make room for the man as if he deserved a permanent seat.

The wind picks up even more, and you cozy into your sweater a bit more before padding over and taking the seat next to him. Silently, he pulls out the Le Creuset you had purchased while Utahime gets up to pour herself a mug and grab a canister of super glue for you to fix it.

While the group wraps gifts and chatter amongst yourselves, Satoru remains fixed at your side, his thigh resting casually against your own.

~~~~~~~~~

“Has anyone seen my hair straightener?” Utahime calls out from the bathroom while rummaging through the drawers under the sink.

“No, but I call dibs on the bathroom in 5 minutes!” Shoko yells from the window where she finishes her cigarette.

You pause in front of your bed surveying the various outfits that match the red cardigan that sits in the center. Dresses seemed too formal considering it was still a frat function, despite it being more intimate than their usual big blowouts. 

Dragging your index finger over a variety of different length skirts, you settle on a black mini and tight white cropped tee to go on top. Paired with black opaque tights, said holly colored cardigan, and cute black boots, you step out into the living to do a full spin.

“Hey! I said 5 min– woa.” Shoko bangs on the bathroom door holding her makeup bag in one hand and pre-game drink in the other while smirking at you, “Hot.”

“Thank you, thank you~”

You do a small 360 and move to the kitchen table to finish up the last few steps of your own makeup routine, laughing when Shoko wedges the door open to squirm inside. Utahime tries to nudge her back outside, but the two wind up elbow-to-elbow in front of the mirror to finish getting ready.

Satoru had texted an hour ago saying he’d be there by no later than 7 to pick you all up and looking up from your compact as you apply the finish touches to your lip gloss, the microwave clock reads 7:38 pm.

“I need more room! Does the back of my hair look even?” Utahime spins around to show it definitely wasn’t even and Shoko replies with a chuckle.

Before you can butt in to prevent an argument, there’s a set of knocks at the door. Keeping an eye on the two of them, you only glance away to peer in the peephole and unlock the door. Satoru shuffles inside, twirling his car keys on his fingers and kicking off his shoes.

“Oh, a new record. Only 40 minutes late this time.” You cross your arms. “And what’s with the sunglasses? It’s dark outside.”

Satoru wiggles off his coat and pushes his frames back up the bridge of his nose. “Did you miss me that much?”

You roll your eyes and walk back to the kitchen table to retrieve your compact while the man giggles a bit before finally drinking in the scene in front of him. He stands motionless at the front entrance still, watching the way you slide your compact into a small purse and stand to whisk together another pre-game drink.

Every curve accentuated with your outfit, your hair looks glossy in the warm light of the floor lamps, and your makeup is done perfectly to compliment your natural features; Satoru’s seen you dolled up a handful of times before, but this time the matching colors you both adorn make pause.

“Did you want one or not?”

“Huh?”

You look up from the pitcher of an assortment of soft drinks and hard liquor with frustration. “I asked if you wanted one like 4 times now.”

“O-Oh,” he says and shuffles into the kitchen a bit closer. “Sure, but a small one; I’m still driving after all.”

You nod and spin back around to pour half a cup while Satoru slowly walks forward at your side; dressed in the same holly red with a cashmere sweater and straight leg jeans, he can’t help but admire your outfit.

“Listen, Y/N–”

“–Don’t use up all my setting spray Shoko! Or I’ll– oh, you’re here.”

Utahime comes from around the corner and pauses when she notices the designated driver has finally arrived. The white haired man at your side laughs lightly and gives a wave while your roommate flattens out the rest of her outfit and moves to stand at your side to pour herself another glass.

“Are you gonna make it to the party if you keep drinking this much?”

“Yea.” She turns to you and takes the first sip of her third drink. “This is just precautionary in case it’s lame.”

Satoru moves his mouth away, despite being about to take a sip, and rolls his eyes. “It won’t be lame. It’s not the same as the usual open-house function we do, but it’s still a JJK party.”

Utahime seems indifferent at the response and takes another big sip while Shoko emerges into the kitchen as well. “Oh? Looks like our ride, or y/n’s ride, has arrived.”

You roll your eyes and take a few gulps of your beverage while Satoru watches your reaction with a gaze you can’t quite decipher. Utahime shivers at the joke and moves to collect her Secret Santa gift from the living room. “Please, stop putting that image in my head. I don’t want to imagine our roommate and him banging in this apartment.”

With a sigh, you move to grab your own Secret Santa gift and pass Satoru the one he had wrapped and left here. Shoko chuckles a bit and assembles her things while sliding out her phone. “Ah, we really should get going.”

Utahime shoots Satoru a glare and wraps an arm around you while he stares in a slight confusion as the conversation pivoted against him. You had agreed to the fwb after all, so why was he the bad guy in this?

Shuffling on shoes, combining liquor and wine bottles into one cardboard box (which Satoru is forced to carry), and triple checking everyone has their gifts, you all head out of the apartment. Light chatter amongst you and your friends as you walk through the lobby while Satoru fishes out his car keys, holding the box with one hand against his side, a clean white Mercedes sits in the resident spot near the front.

You raise an eyebrow and open the trunk for Satoru to slide in the box. “Why are you parked here? The visitor spots are open, and you don’t have a resident tag.”

“Hm?” He ducks and places his hand on the top of the trunk, ready to shut it. “I always park here?”

If he was telling the truth, you couldn’t hide the surprise. Has he always parked here? Before you can question it, Shoko has leaned up from her spot in the back seat to lean against the car horn and begin yelling through the open crack in the window.

“We’re gonna be later than we already are! Make out when we get there!”

You knock against the window to shut her up while Satoru lets out an honest laugh. “Well, you heard the woman. Wouldn’t want to keep her or you waiting.”

You shove his shoulder lightly and he lets out one more chuckle before walking around to sit in the driver’s seat while you take your place in the passenger seat next to him. By the time the car leaves the parking lot, your roommates are bickering amongst each other about song requests and bets on who the rest of the group had for Secret Santa.

Satoru’s hand rests comfortably on your thigh, drawing an array of shapes with his fingers as he handles the steering wheel with the other hand. The feeling is familiar, though the gentleness of the action is new. He wasn’t exactly discreet when it came to wanting your attention or physical touch, but it usually came before you two got down and dirty.

The lightness of his touch while his eyes remained fixed on the road was so casual it almost wasn’t. When Shoko and Utahime shift to talk about Higuruma once again, you don’t bother to join the conversation, and Satoru’s eyes finally leave the road to glance over at you.

~~~~~~~~

“Oh, only an hour and 15 minutes late this time, Satoru. I’m glad I told you the party started at 7:15 and not 8:30.”

Suguru laughs from the kitchen island of their shared apartment while you all shuffle in through the door and remove your winter outwear. Maki and Nobara sit on the sofa in the living room while Inumaki and Yuta mix a few drinks and Yuji and Megumi organize the group’s gifts on the coffee table. 

You, Shoko, and Utahime branch off to greet Nanami and Higuruma in the kitchen while looking around for the rest of the group.

You dig around in the cardboard box Satoru had carried and take out a bottle of prosecco before passing it to Higuruma to open.

“Where’s everyone else?”

Higuruma places a careful hand on the cork and points it away from you as it pops. “Choso is smoking on the balcony and I think Haibara went with Todo to pick up Mai and the others.”

You hum in acknowledgement and open a few cupboards in search of a flute for the drink whichHiguruma fills up without needing the question as soon as you present it.

Across the room, Suguru and Satoru idly pour themselves a drink while the final preparations are being made.

“Soooo, you talk to her yet?”

Satoru raises an eyebrow and finishes his pour of the sweet concoction of fruit juices and rum before turning to his friend. “Who? And what about?”

Suguru cracks open a beer and shoots his friend a sideways glance with a ‘seriously?’ look on his face.

“Oh come on. If you’re gonna keep y/n at a distance, you can’t be all moody when another guy tries to make a move.”

Satoru scrunches his eyebrows and raises the cup to hip lips. “Huh? No one is making a move… and I’m not moody!”

“Yea you are.”

“No–”

“You’re gonna break the cup in a second if you keep gripping it that tightly.”

Satoru pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath; the plastic cup dents and creaks as his pressure lightens. Laughter rings out in the air as you, Higuruma, Utahime, and Nanami all crowd around the kitchen island giggling about something. The way your eyes shut with a large smile on your lips catches his attention before he notices the way the other men in the circle look as starstruck as he does right now.

It shouldn’t bother him; he doesn’t get to be upset when he was the one that proposed all those late night flings you’ve had were completely casual. When the two of you first hooked up months ago during a party, it was the first thing Satoru muttered once you both came down from your highs. Looking at his own reflection with the beverage in his hand, he can’t even remember why he had said it in the first place.

Sure, it was great to be fwb; he gets to know you in and out of the bedroom without any of the ‘responsibilities’ of being a boyfriend. Though watching you lightly shove the arm of a coyly smirking Higuruma, all the ‘obligations’ of being your boyfriend merge into benefits. He could be over there with an arm around your waist telling every guy in here to fuck off, he could be the one to take you shopping rather than shopping for other men, he could be the one you would wear matching colors with on campus, rather than as a lame party gag.

“You done moping yet?”

Satoru lifts the drink and take a few big sips, his eyes never leaving your figure.

“I fucked up, Suguru.”

“Ha!” The man at his side throws his head back and laughs, “I know. We all know.”

Satoru looks over to the balcony entrance, catching the way Shoko peers back at him with her arms crossed with a knowing glance; she only looks away when Choso taps her for a light.

“Well, what am I supposed to do? I’m the one that made it casual to begin with.”

It’s weird to see him so upset, and Suguru drops his smile at the melancholy feeling emitting from his best friend.

He places a hand on his shoulder. “Tell her how you feel. For real this time.”

“What if…” The plastic cup in Satoru’s hand crinkles again at the pressure and he drops his voice. “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

A loud sigh can be heard from Suguru’s lips as he shrugs. “Well that’s part of the whole thing; real relationships are scary like that. But–” He looks at the mess of emotions on his friend’s face. “That’s better than whatever you’re feeling right now.”

Satoru swallows thickly and nods slowly in agreement; he had been putting this off for too long now. With a long gulp of his beverage and supportive pat on the back from his best friend, he takes off to the kitchen with his sights set on you.

“No way? You guys went to the holiday market?”

Higuruma nods and motions to Nanami. “Yea, Yuji thought that would be a good place to introduce us.”

Nanami nods and takes a sip of his drink. “It was great; the food stalls were very impressive.”

You look between the two men and almost salivate at the thought of such good food before a heavy arm is thrown over your shoulder. Dragged into the side of Satoru, you look up and shoot him a confused glance.

It isn’t by accident or through a casual greeting for this display of physical touch. While you may see it as Satoru being his usual self, the two other men in the conversation understand the hint. Matching sweaters and his arm around you; Nanami and Higuruma don’t move any closer and pause to change the conversation.

“Hey,” you nudge into his side with a whisper-yell, “what are you doing?”

Satoru looks between the group, which is now immersed in another conversation, before dipping down to your ear. “I needed to talk to you.”

“So?”

“So–” His arm falls down to grab your elbow. “I need to do it in private.”

Raising an eyebrow, you take in the way he leans his head in closer before rolling your eyes and shoving his hand off of you.

“Seriously? Now? You can’t last another day or at least until my conversation is over?”

Satoru purses his lips and watches the way the open group has now isolated you both and turned into a three way conversation between Nanami, Higuruma, and Utahime.

“It’s over. Let’s go.”

You scoff at the brashness but don’t stop him as Satoru pulls you out of the kitchen and into the hallway. 

“Hey where is–”

“Yuji! I need your help with the music; the others will be here soon.”

Suguru pulls Yuji to the side and shoots his best friend one last look before pivoting to push the younger man back into the living room.

By the time the door closes and locks, you cross your arms and tap your foot impatiently at Satoru while he busies himself with awkwardly cleaning up his room. Awards from his research in oncology hang on the wall alongside an array of photographs from high school to present day.

Satoru shuffles to his bed, some dirty laundry sitting at the foot on the floor. A light gray comforter sits messy atop navy blue sheets, and the ikea paper floor lamp creates a familiar warm glow across the room.

“What’s this about Satoru? You couldn’t wait?”

“Yea.. something like that.”

The atmosphere is awkward and different than any other time he’s pulled you aside. Usually, he’d sweet talk you a bit and get a bit touchy before dragging you into somewhere more private and slamming his mouth on yours. The way he uncomfortably sits on his bed and can’t quite make eye contact reminds you of the first time the two of you ever had sex. Before it was casual.

He rubs the back of his head in thought while the tension makes you squirm where you stand. It occurs to you that this feels more like a friend in need of support rather than the physical prowess who you’ve come to associate with meaningless sex.

Your voice softens and you shuffle to sit beside him on the bed. “Hey… are you ok?”

“Yes– no…” he sighs and looks at his feet. “I don’t know…”

Your heart strings tug at the vulnerability in his voice and the sullen clicking of the vintage clock radio on his desk. “Ok… take your time Satoru. I’m not going anywhere…”

A mix between a chuckle and a scoff escapes his lips and the pained look he gives you is pitiful; he looks down for a moment more before slipping off his sunglasses and dropping them onto the bed.

“I want to end this.”

…. Huh?

“...What?”

“I want to end this.” He meets your gaze and motions between the both of you. “Whatever this is, or was, it’s done.”

You pause and blink at the man, worry and sympathy quickly becoming replaced with anger, embarrassment, and frustration. All the months tangled between the sheets and moments of genuine happiness in his company come crashing down.

“What..? Why?”

With eyebrows furrowed, there’s no way to hide the cold tone laced in each word you spit out; Satoru winces and shuts his eyes before taking a deep sigh.

“I just…. We have to, ok?”

“No, not ok.” You stand up from the bed and make some distance, hands curled into fists. “Not until you give me a real reason.”

Satoru looks at you with tired eyes and glances back at the floor. “There isn’t one…”

“So what then? I was just something to fuck until you got bored?”

He shoots his eyes up and frantically shakes his head. “What? No! That’s not it all.”

“Is there somebody else? Just kept me until you could swoop in and get in a real relationship?”

“N-No!” Satoru stands from the bed and raises his voice to match yours, an argument breaking out.

From down the hall, Suguru winces and motions Yuji to increase the volume on the speakers and offers people fresh drinks to stall for a bit longer.

“I know we’re casual, but I thought I at least meant something to you as a friend.”

“You do!”

Your brows twitch in frustration and hot angry tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Then why are you ending this–”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

…what?

You pause and pant to catch your breath, the silence deafening as Satoru stands pathetically in front of you tugging at his hair in frustration.

“I’m in love with you, ok?” He pushes chunks of it back, only to have it cascade right back down. “That’s why… we can’t do this anymore. It’s not casual.”

You breathe in and out slowly while your pulse shoots through the roof. Standing in the center of his room, the one you’ve been in a million times before, suddenly feels suffocating. When you don’t answer, Satoru peels his eyes off the floor and scans your face with a worried expression.

“Say something… please…”

You swallow and look at him cautiously. “Why… why didn’t you say anything that night?”

Satoru winces and looks back down again before rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands with enough force he’s seeing stars. That night. Why couldn’t he just man up enough that one night all those months ago?

It was the night he had finally mustered up the courage to ask you to a party as his date after months of pathetically trying to find a way to ask you out. Music blaring and alcohol flowing, the sight of you wrapped around his arms dancing was heavenly; the sight of nearly every other guy ogling you was hell. 

Liquid courage flowing through you, you had pushed him back to his bedroom and connected your lips to his. Matching the intensity, he had wasted no time in kissing you back; before anyone could wonder where the two of you had gone, you were making love in between his same navy blue sheets.

When the both of you came down from the high, it was the first thing out of Satoru’s mouth.

Let’s keep this casual, ok?

It hurt so bad to hear, and it hurt him even worse to watch the way your face fell in a dejected response. 

“That night…?”

You grab at the fabric of your skirt in an awkward and anxious energy. “Yea.”

“Because–” Satoru finally looks back at you and sighs, “I don’t think I can make you happy in any way that isn’t physical. I don’t bake bread with ceramic ovens, I don’t practice law and know how to get stupid corks out of wine bottles… I don’t think you would be emotionally happy with me.”

There’s another long pause as the anger fully slips out of you; your hands fall flat at your sides and Satoru finds solace staring at the white shaggy rug that lays beneath his bed to the middle of his room. 

“And you decided that without ever asking me?”

The sound of your voice makes him look up, and he winces, fully expecting you to reject him and tell him to fuck off forever. You take a few cautious steps forward and sigh lightly; taking his hand in your own, you tug at him to meet your gaze.

“Satoru, why do you think I said yes to being your date at that party?” A dry laugh escapes your lips and you watch the way your fingers intertwine with his. “I had been waiting months for you to ask me out… Shoko and Utahime laughed at me so much when I came home and told them you finally did.”

Satoru stays silent for a moment and creates a crease in his forehead from the way his eyes portray nothing but regret and sadness. “And I ruined everything, didn’t I? Pushed you away, and now there’s two great guys out there that would never make the same mistake I did.”

You look up at him and glance between his eyes before smiling gently. “I mean… probably.”

Satoru nearly releases the grip on your hand, but you keep your fingers firm. “But… the guy I like is in here.”

“In here?”

“Mmhmm.”

Satoru’s eyes widen and he searches your face for any sign you’re about to say it’s some sick joke before you lean up to capture his lips with your own. Your lipgloss smearing slightly against his mouth, Satoru’s lips chase after yours when you take a slight pause to breathe.

Hmpfh– 

The force of him stepping forward to continue the kiss has you walking backwards until your legs are plush against his desk. He leans in with more force and cups your cheeks to keep your mouth perfectly aligned with his; strands of white hair fall down at the angle and tickle your face.

The kiss is similar to the ones you’ve shared before, and it makes you wonder if every time you and Satoru had sex, he was hoping it was something more meaningful than a fwb. Lips against your own, his hands fall to grip your waist and keep you still against him; an erection hardening in his jeans against you. 

“F-fuck… Satoru..”

In the brief moment you escape his lip to whimper out, he meets his mouth against yours again and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. Parting for access, the hot muscle eagerly explores your mouth and leaves the fruity taste of pineapple juice on your tongue.

The sensation sets your skin on fire and causes arousal to pool in your panties while his hips rut pathetically against yours. His tongue rubs against your own and the messiness of the kiss leaves saliva dripping from both of your mouths; unable to move from being squished between Satoru and the desk, the pressure of the moment leaves your mind dizzy.

With one last exploration of your molars, Satoru disconnects his lips from yours and immediately moves down to the sensitive skin on your throat. Open mouth kisses litter the flesh under your jaw to the base of your collarbone before the man in front of you pauses and leans back slightly. 

“Is it… is it ok?”

Neither one of you had either left a hickey on the other person, having deemed it too intimate to leave claiming marks when neither of you were entitled to exclusivity. The question he poses has more weight than if he can leave a few bruises; he’s asking if you can be his.

Hot breaths leave his panting lips and you shiver from the sensation; looking up at the man, you take in the pink on his cheeks and the dilation of his pupils.

“Y-Yea.”

Knees nearly buckling forward, Satoru nods once and stumbles forward to latch his lips and teeth onto the delicate flesh of your throat. A surprised groan escapes you, and he sighs before sinking his canines into your skin and sucking the tender spot into his mouth. It’s a mix of pleasure and pain that courses through you at the sensation, one Satoru mirrors as his aching erection painfully pushes at the fly of his jeans.

He’s never been so hard in his life. Sure, he always remembered to thank his lucky stars every time you and him were intimate, but the idea of doing this as a committed pair makes his hips jerk forward in desperation. 

Lips releasing the flesh with a ‘pop’, his mouth moves to suck the pulse point under your jaw while his hands move from holding your hips to hovering just below your tits. Satoru’s mind goes fuzzy when he can feel your pulse on his lips and when your hands rest on his to push his palms to your breast.

The feeling of his mouth sucking dark bruises on your neck and the way his thumbs already know where to push down to grind your nipples through your bra leave you feeling drunk. When his erection grinds against your pelvis again, you lean your head further to the side and groan.

“S-Satoru..”

His lips ‘pop’ off your pulse and trail to find the next spot just under your ear. “Ye-Yea, princess?”

You shudder at the pet name and clench pathetically around nothing while his hands continue kneading your tits.

“Use your words”

Any other time the command might’ve made you a bit embarrassed, but leaning against the desk at his mercy while raging with desire, you don’t really care.

“I want you.”

Despite saying the words before a handful of times when the moment was intense, Satoru doesn’t miss the new implication and weight of them. He leans down to connect your lips again, whimpering when you tug at his hair impatiently.

“God, I could kiss you forever.”

“Ok, then do it.”

He smiles and leans down once to peck your lips again, before backing up and making room for the both of you to walk over to the bed. You're barely on the mattress when he pushes you flush against his pillows and splays your thighs apart to make room for himself. 

Sitting on your elbows, you drink in the sight of Satoru lifting his arms above his head to pull off the sweater and reveal a torso sculpted from marble. An array of scars litter the skin, some from stories you’ve heard and others from ones you’re sure to hear one day; a particular faded scar by his navel remains unknown.

“Sukuna fucking hit me on his stupid bike.”

He notices the way your eyes linger on his torso and pays no mind while his fingertips pinch the hem of your shirt to tug the cardigan and fabric off.

“Really? How?”

“Said he was gonna teach Megumi how to ride.” He drops your red cardigan on the floor to match his sweater and throws your t-shirt haphazardly behind him. “Fucking idiot clipped me and sent me flying to the pavement.”

Your fingers graze the scar once before dropping to outline the hem of his jeans and tracing the outline of his erection. Satoru sucks in a shallow breath and moves to release the button and zipper.

“Did it hurt?”

“Yea– felt like I got split in half. But..” He shimmies the fabric down and kicks it to join the other clothes before reaching behind you to release the metal clasp of your bra. “I’m feeling really good right now.”

You laugh slightly and pull him to another kiss, which he happily leans in for, before you part to wiggle your skirt and tights down. Both of you left in your underwear, the tightness of his Calvin Klein briefs leave little to the imagination.

Pre-cum staining the gray material darker, the tip of his cock is nearly pushing through the fly of the fabric from the intensity. Satoru isn’t sure if he feels light headed from the lack of blood flow to his brain or from the fact that your red panties are stained with arousal.

He pauses and sits back for a moment to peer over the bed and finally notice the way your bra had been the same shade. Gun to his head, if anyone had asked him the color of the fabric earlier, he would’ve been dead.

“F-fuck… did you match this, f’me?”

You wet your lips and nod once while Satoru feels as if he could die happily. The girl of his dream, matched her bra and panties to his outfit? In a silent vow to never fumble the bag ever again, he leans back down to capture your lips.

Leaning against his soft pillows and wrapping your arms around his neck, a squeak escapes you when he tugs to flip the positions over. Hovering over him now, his hands dig into the plush of your thighs and gently push you forward.

“W-what?”

“Get up here and sit.”

You pause and look down at Satoru who tugs at your thighs with a face drunk in desire; his biceps scoot you up higher until you’re hovering his face. Fingers wrapped around the base of your panties, you lean forward to grab his headboard while he slides them down your legs and off each ankle. 

He bundles the wet fabric into a little ball and reaches up to tuck it underneath one of his pillows.

“H-hey! Give it back, perv.”

“I will.. After you sit.”

His hands reach up to your hips and push you down onto his nose and mouth; the sensation immediately makes you gush in arousal. Satoru’s pointed nose nudges your puffy clit while his lips suck at your entrance before his tongue slithers in. You groan and curl your toes for a moment before trying to tense your thighs and stand; his hands immediately hold you still.

Leaning back for a moment, the scene beneath you is filthy. Satoru’s lips are swollen from the suction and your slick coats his mouth and chin; he looks up at you as if you had taken away something so very dear to him.

“Hey, get back down here.” He whines up at you, his eyes nearly black from the size of his pupils.

“B-but… i might crush–”

He pulls your thighs down lower and breathes hot against your pussy, licking a long stripe and peering up once more. “Then go ahead and crush me. As if I’d want to die anywhere else than under your fucking cunt.”

With one last tug, he pulls you down onto his face once again and continues his ministrations; the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. Tongue pushing into your sopping cunt with a disgusting french kiss while his nose lifts to grind against your clit once more. 

It takes one more tug of your hips before you take a deep breath and grab the headboard firmly, ready to finally grind. One sway of your hips instantly amplifies the pleasure; his nose rutting with perfect pressure before your effectively fucking his face.

Whimpers escape your and Satoru’s lips, the vibration further making your mind fuzzy. His tongue presses against the fleshly walls of your cunt in desperation to drink in every drop of your arousal while his hands freely knead the flesh of your ass as you grind. Hunching forward, you can vaguely makeout the scene beneath you; Satoru’s hair plastered his forehead with sweat while his eyes are screwed shut in concentration. The redness of his face makes you wonder if he can even breathe properly. 

“Ahhh… S-Satoru… gonna..”

He gently pushes up on your thighs and takes several deep breaths while trying to form a sentence.

“On my…cock… gotta cum on my cock… please princess..”

You whimper at the lack of stimulation after getting so close to the edge and peer back to notice the angry way his cock throbs against the fabric. The pre-cum patch even larger than before, you turn back around and nod once before swinging your thighs over his head to sit on his comforter.

Your arousal still coating the entire lower half of his face, Satoru runs his tongue over his lips to savor the taste before capturing you with a kiss once more. His tongue feeds you your own slick and, with a fuzzy mind, you barely process when his mouth leaves yours.

You watch the man slide off the bed and open his night stand drawer for the familiar box of condoms before dropping it.

“Shit. There’s no way…”

He leans in to reach around again before pulling back empty handed and dropping to his knees to feel around his jeans for his wallet. Unfolding it open, he sighs when there’s no foil in sight and runs a hand through his hair in desperation. 

“Guess my luck had to run out eventually.”

You sit on the bed and watch the scene unfold before raising an eyebrow. “Well… can’t we just get the morning after pill?”

“Huh?” He looks up and approaches the bed. “You’re ok with that?”

You’re so horny you’d be ok with anything right now; and the thought of missing out on orgasming again has you going feral. Satoru thanks his lucky stars when you nod in approval, and climbs back onto the mattress to place a chaste kiss to your lips.

He guides you to shimmy down and lay on your back while he reaches into the drawer to pull out a small container of lube; Satoru finally shimmies out of his briefs and kicks them to the floor to let his erection stand freely. It’s a sight you’ve always loved, a tidy bush trimmed at his base while a cock longer and thicker than any guy you’ve been with twitches with anticipation.

Pouring a generous amount of lube into his hand, Satoru gives himself a few generous strokes and massages the flushed tip of his cock before tapping it against your clit for good measure. Splaying your thighs apart with his knees, your legs lift to wrap around him while he crawls forward and slowly slides in.

“Nnnghh..fuck–”

 The burning stretch is one your pussy can never get used to, and your hands on his shoulder blade leave your nails digging into the flesh. Satoru slowly continues pushing in until his pubes are tickling your skin and he’s completely bottomed out inside you.

“Oh my go— fuck princess…. Ha… might cum just from feeling you…”

He sucks a new bruise into the side of your neck, giving you time to adjust while your cunt flutters around him pathetically in an attempt to accommodate his size. Waiting a moment, he finally slides out before pushing back in, with a light ‘tap’ from the headboard into the wall. 

The feeling is insurmountable, and any resolve Satoru had to take things slower seeps out of him as he thrusts in and out of your cunt with a bruising tempo; his tip slamming into your cervix. Legs still hoisted around his waist, the pubic hair on his pelvis grinds forward into your clit with each stroke.

“Aahhh Sator– mpfh”

His hand moves to cover your mouth while he continues bullying his cock into your snug cunt.

“Shh princess… can’t– haaa… can’t have them hearing you..”

Despite his attempt to cover your moans, there’s an audible ‘plap!’ plap!’ plap!’ from the sound of his heavy balls smacking your ass and the banging of the headboard into the wall. The wooden frame creaks uncomfortably, and Satoru bites back down onto your neck to avoid groaning.

Shit. Considering it feels this good without a condom, he would get a vasectomy if he meant he could always hit it raw.

“H-huh?”

Oops. Did he say that part out loud?

His hips snap into yours and long scratches make their way down his back, the pain only heightening the pleasure while his cock drills into you. Noticing the way your hips arch upward in search of more friction, Satoru reaches to grab a pillow and pull it under your waist.

The angle tilts your waist so perfectly, each snap of his hips grinds further onto your puffy clit while his tip bruises your g-spot. Your cunt gushes at the sensation and Satoru is left thinking a million different images to avoid cumming. Boring oncology classes, midday traffic, Yaga teaching said boring classes; his hips twitch pathetically at his impending orgasm.

“Y-you’re trying to milk me dry? Ha~.. gotta make sure you cum soon ngh too..”

He snakes a hand forward to rub mean circles on your clit and the feeling makes you throw your head back and groan exceptionally loud. The coil in your abdomen grows tighter, and you lift your hips to meet his thrusts in an attempt to reach your high.

“ahhh … S-Satoru, I’m gonna… c-cum..”

Satoru falls forward and continues hammering into your abused cunt while you scrunch your eyebrows and moan as your orgasm washes over you. His hips keep pumping his cock into you as your body twitches to ride out the high and tears prick at your eyes from the intensity. 

Your legs feel like jelly and, before they can drop, Satoru holds onto the plush underside to keep them up and grinds his pelvis up against yours a few more times. Before overstimulating can make you squirm, his pace gets erratic and he shudders desperately as hot ropes of cum pour into you.

Fucking himself through his orgasm, he snaps forward a few more times to ensure every last drop is out, and the sensation makes you feel borderline bloated. His erection softening, Satoru slips out with a wince and watches in a daze as his cum slowly drips out of you; without thinking, he dips an index forward to catch it and push it back in.

“Satoruu,” you whine from your fucked out position on his bed.

The man snaps out of his trance and reaches forward to grab a handful of tissues to wipe you both down. Semen leaks out of your cunt and onto the tissue while another piece absorbs the cream ring that was on the base of his cock. In silence, you both catch your breath and take in the moment.

Aside from condoms, it’s the first time Satoru’s ever been inside you without a barrier, and also the first time he’s fully cum in you without protection. Panting slightly, he lays against the bed and pulls you from your seated position and into his arms.

You trace invisible shapes on his pecs before looking up and realizing he was already staring at you.

With a light scoff you flick his forehead, “You’re staring, weirdo.”

“Hmm? Can’t stare at my girlfriend?”

The word makes you pause, the way it slips off his tongue so naturally makes you feel as if the title had been reserved for the whole time. You pause and take a deep breath.

“About that… I think we should keep this casual, Satoru.”

He sucks in a breath from above you and his eyes widen in shock and hurt; pretending to look off in the distance as if his heart wasn’t breaking, he shrugs in a forced manner.

“Gotcha~”

You sit up to lean over his face and capture his lips in a kiss before running your hands through his hair to push it back. Satoru sits up and shakes his head with a whimpered sigh. “Don’t do that! I already said I was sorry!”

Giggling slightly, you pinch at his arm to release you, but he makes no move to lighten his hold. 

“We have to get dressed and go back–”

“Call me my real title first.”

He nuzzles into your neck and places gentle kisses while his biceps keep you pinned into his chest. With a giggle you sigh and lean against him.

“Ok, can my boyfriend let me go so we can get dressed?”

“Hmmm, he’ll think about it.”

You shake your head and Satoru lifts his own to place a soft kiss against your lips, chasing after them when you part for a quick breath. It’s gentle and slow, one you’ve never shared until right now.

With a defeated sigh, he lets you stand up and dig through the clothes to find your bra and snap the clasp back on. He admires the sight before standing up and grabbing a fresh pair of underwear for himself and you from his drawers.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna give me back my own?”

Satoru raises an eyebrow and bounces on one leg to slide into the pant leg of his jeans. “What? I don’t remember you wearing any earlier…”

Knowing it was a battle you were never going to win anyways, you slide on his spare boxer briefs and throw your t-shirt over your shirt. Satoru reaches for his sweater while you shimmy your tights and skirt back on; he gives a few sprays of the cologne he knows you like and leaves his sunglasses on the bed.

Giving you a moment for one final smooth of your outfit, Satoru opens the door and takes your hand to guide you down the hallway back towards everyone.

“Why can’t we start already? I wanna know who has meee,” Yuji whines from the loveseat.

Suguru stands in the center of the living room trying to calm the crowd only pausing to notice the way his best friend saunters into view with you latched onto his arm.

“Oh, sorry for the hold up.” He slides onto the couch and tugs you into his arms to sit beside him. “My girlfriend and I had to get something sorted.”

He looks around to see the reactions of the crowd and raises an eyebrow when no one moves from excitement. Megumi rolls his eyes beside Yuji while Yuta and Inumaki cough awkwardly. Even Choso sits idly next to Todo as if Satoru were reporting the weather to the group.

“Did you hear? Y/N and I are dating–”

“We know.” Shoko interrupts and pours herself another glass of wine from the kitchen.

Satoru whips around to stare at her while the look Utahime gives you makes you want to instantly disappear; you tug on your boyfriend’s sweater but he takes that to mean you want to hold his hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“No, we’re like… together–together”

“WE KNOW!” the group yells in unison.

You slink into the sofa and wish to disappear while Satoru blinks in confusion and looks among the group. Suguru rolls his eyes and moves to sit beside you on the other side of the couch. “We all heard you in his room.”

If there was ever a time for a bomb to go off, it would be right now. Nobara and Maki snicker to themselves while Higuruma, Haibara, and Nanami stand near the window and shake their heads slightly. 

Suguru leans over to you both and shrugs. “I could only stall for so long; they got suspicious when the headboard was louder than my speakers.”

You squeak and sink into your boyfriend’s arms while he sheepishly scratches at the back of his undercut. “That loud huh?”

“Yep.”

He leans away from his friend and runs a reassuring hand over your shoulder to relax, the mortifying moment leaving you wondering if you could ever show your face on campus again.

“It’s ok, we just gotta be quiet next time–”

“Her neck is also completely purple with hickies,” Suguru interrupts once again before leaning back and taking a long sip of beer in the process. 

With one more curt nod, and cutting his losses, Satoru claps his hands and eyes the mountain of gifts piled on the coffee table.

“Well, now that you all know about my and y/n’s sex life and committed relationship, let’s get this Secret Santa started!”

A mix of groans and ‘ooos’ emit from the group; Utahime stands up to begin the process while Satoru keeps a comfy arm around your waist as you partially lay into his chest.

“I know the holidays have passed, but now that we’re all back on campus from break, I figured it would be best to do the exchange now. Is everyone ready?”

Yuji and Todo pump their fist up in excitement while Mai grimaces at the loud outburst. With the gift exchange beginning, you nestle into your boyfriend’s arms and rest your head on his shoulder.

A chaste kiss is placed on your forehead and Satoru runs his thumb absentmindedly across the skin on your thigh. 

“What color are we doing next?”

“Hm?” you hum, peeling your gaze from the excited look on Inumaki’s face as he revealed a new microphone, and focusing on the man beside you.

“For the first day of class, what color should we match with then?”

A grin breaks across your face and you admire his eyes for a moment. “Maybe sky blue?”

thank you so much for reading this installment of holiday hoes! i had so much fun writing this gojo one hehe

i have suguru -> yuta -> choso next before this mini series ends & i'll be doing chapters for my longer fics (L, Aizawa) in between

likes/comments/reblogs all appreciated

-oatmeal

✌︎('ω')✌︎

[youraverageaemondsimp]

“Be Quiet.” // DILF!Aemond Targaryen x Babysitter!Reader // PART ONE.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 500 FOLLOWERS! (+200 now) so here is the awaited fic, celebrating a milestone <3 based on this poll, dilf aemond won at the end haha 💞

MDNI

WARNINGS: unprotected p in v sex, dubcon(?), oral (both f and m.), blowjob, cum eating, cum play(?), breeding kink, multiple orgasms, age gap (9ish years), DILF aemond, single father aemond, power imbalance(?), throat fucking, cunnilingus, lots and lots of kissing, + not proofread

WC: 7.1k (yeah...)

« part two // 🎄 special »

Getting fired from your job while trying to pay rent and gathering tuition fees isn't exactly ideal, you wanted to pursue a bachelor's degree after high school, but you didn't have enough money, coming from a family that was barely held by, nor were you eligible to apply for student because there were legal issues.

You moved out of your parents not wanting to financially burden them anymore, renting a decent apartment with just enough space for you to call it a 'home' you've been working for the past 2 years, a decent paying job but it was enough to get by and save up on the fees too, everything seemed to be going perfect until you suddenly got fired and your landlord decided to increase the rent.

You knew you'd have to cut into your savings to pay rent now, but you didn't want that, you halfway there to your goal, you were expected to get promoted and get higher pay, you calculated it, that it would only take one more year for you get enough amount to pay for the first few sems, and then maybe you'll be able to apply for a student loan by then.

But fate had different plans, and here you were on your couch scrolling through multiple apps to find any type of job, extremely desperate.

And that's when you saw it.

“Babysitter needed.” you thought how perfect of a job it would be considering the degree you wanted to so badly was based in psychology, child psychology specifically, and interacting with kids will probably give you some type of experience?

You quickly clicked on it and found the contact number, and decided to call it, you bit your lips nervously hoping they'd pick up.

“Hello?” you heard a cool voice say which sent shivers down your spine.

“Hello- yes uhm, Hi! I am calling because I saw the post on the app that said you needed a babysitter for hire?” you stumble over your words and mentally facepalm yourself for it.

“Yes, indeed. Are you interested in applying?” he asks and you quickly reply with a yes.

“Do you have any prior experience?” he asks and you reply with a quick yes, you've babysat a few kids throughout your highschool era for quick cash, as a way to not rely on your parents for menial things.

“Mhm alright, I don't want to bring your hopes up by saying you got a job, I'd like to have a personal interview first, if you do not mind.” he says and you say, thanking him and he hangs up the call.

You were fucking shaking.

It felt like applying for the first job of your life all again, the nervousness, the anxiety, the everything.

Aemond had saved your phone number and sent it to his assistant, Floris, asking her to run a background check on you, and to see if you had any criminal background, he read your name on the file that got delivered to him, sipping on his coffee while he scanned through your details.

You just turned 21, recently.

‘So young’ he thought, ‘Let me guess, she's probably looking for jobs in order to afford education.’ he guessed and he was exactly on the money with that one.

He wasn't that old himself, barely 30

He inherited his father's business at just age 23, being the only one capable of handling such pressure, his elder siblings couldn't stand a chance against him, and since then, he's maintained the Targaryen name perfectly.

He remembers falling in love with a woman older than him, he was 24, she attended one of the business parties he dreaded going to, Alys rivers was her name, they dated for 2 years before deciding to pace things up and get engaged since everything was going perfect for both of them.

Until Alys got pregnant, Aemond was overjoyed when he heard that news, but he didn't know that the child would suck the life out of her.

She died giving birth to their son, and he was devastated, being heart broken by her death, however he never once blamed his child, it was their choice to birth him, and it failed miserably.

But 3 years had passed since her death and he had moved on from her death, ready to love once again, yet it was extremely hard to find someone that wasn't after his money.

He knew he couldn't just live in the misery of heartbreak, and Alys would've wanted him to move on too.

His son, Aenys, recently turned 3 too, he inherited Aemond's purple eyes and silver blonde hair, typical targ features, but he saw how the softness of his nose, sharpness of his eyes resembled his mother.

But back to you at hand, he went through all your papers deeming you fit for the interview, he called a day later telling you the address where the interview would be held, his office.

Yes, his fucking office, as if you were applying for a job at his company, he justified it by saying that you were technically his employee.

When you got out of the taxi and looked at the company in front of you, it finally clicked in your brain that your employee was none other than Aemond Targaryen, and it only made your anxiety worse.

You went to the receptionist and told her your name, and she typed it in, giving you a small smile, telling you that you were exactly on time. She called his office to tell you that you were here and led you to his office. You looked around and noticed how big this company was, a bunch of employees working in their cubicles, typing away.

“Mr. Targaryen?” she called out and you heard a small ‘come in.’ Before stepping inside and pushing the door open for you to enter, you did and she stepped outside, closing it gently behind you, leaving you alone in the room with the man.

Aemond hadn't looked up from his files until the door closed, and when he did, he felt his breath caught in his throat.

“You may sit.” he says and you nod, sitting across him on the opposite side of the table, you felt so small under his gaze, it was so intimidating but you put up with it.

He began the interview by asking questions about yourself, and all relevant things, but there was one question that caught you off guard.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks and you furrow your brows, “Excuse me?” you question, noticing how odd of a question it is.

“Don't get me wrong, the previous babysitter had one, and she used to bring him to the apartment and…” he cleared his throat and you immediately caught on to what he was implying, “Oh! No! I do not have one, and even if I did I would not do that!” you reassure him and he gives you a nod.

He was fucking lying.

But you didn't know that.

The previous babysitter was an old lady, who Aenys liked a lot, but sadly she had to leave the city.

“I hope you know that you're expected to work full time? I leave for the office at 9AM and return back at 7PM, and you'll need to be ready to work those long hours, and sometimes I might not even return till late at night if there is extra work.” he says and you nod, and before the question can leave your mouth he cuts you off.

“Do not worry, you'll be paid for those extra hours.” he confirms and you nod smiling at him.

And then came your terms, which he agreed to, he made you sign a one year contract, and you did it without hesitation.

Frankly the pay was so high you would barely need to work 6 months to reach the full amount, but you still did an extra 6 months considering how having extra money at hand doesn't hurt.

And with a handshake, he accepted you.

You were practically going to spend most of your awake time with the kid, it sounds hectic but the pay was too good to pass up on, I mean, $80 per hour? fuck yes, you'd be having around $230k by the end of the contract. Aemond was filthy rich.

It was finally your day to go to his house and you already knew it was going to be big, but you were still shocked when you arrived to the destination, it was a 20 minute drive from your house, and it was located in the richest neighbourhood to exist in the city, you felt embarrassed getting out of your taxi at an area where everyone probably had their own cars, heck, a collection of them even, but you paid the fare and the guard got up to question you, you told him and he quickly nodded before letting you inside.

It was early in the morning, you came quickly so Aemond could show you around the house and introduce you to his kid, you stood there nervously as you rang the doorbell, Aemond had checked through the security camera before the door opened, revealing the house interior.

You quickly stepped in and he closed the door behind you. You expected him to have maids and a bunch of staff, but you were surprised when you found none. No wonder he asked if you can cook, you'd probably be doing all the work here besides the cleaning.

“Aenys is in his playroom, let me take you there.” he says cooly and you follow him, taking in your surroundings.

He opens the door to the playroom and you immediately find a kid, who you assumed to be older than 2, playing with his dragon toys, making rawr sounds, and yelling the word ‘dracarys.’ you smiled at the cuteness.

Aemond cleared his throat which caught the attention of Aenys and he smiled brightly before he jumped in his arms, “Papa!” he yelled, before he turned his attention to you and looked at his father in question

“Hey aeny, do you know how the previous babysitter had to leave town?” he asks gently and Aenys nods, “And papa needs to be away for work top right? So I got you a new babysitter who will take care of you.” he points towards you, explaining and Aenys looks at you tilting his head slightly

“Hey, Aenys.” you give him a small, waving your hand, he shyly waves back before he hides his face his fathers chest, you chuckle at the cuteness.

“I'll go give her a house tour okay? And then I will visit you once again before I leave, have fun darling.” He says and puts his son down, and Aenys looks at you once again, inspecting you, observing you, you smile at him once again, and this time he gives you a shy smile.

Aemond leaves the room and you wave a quick temporary goodbye to Aenys and follow him.

“Aenys, doesn't have a mother, or at least he had to grow up without one” Aemond randomly begins and you look at him confused. “My fiancee-” he sighs before halting his footsteps, “She- she had died while giving birth to him.” you watch as he takes deep breaths, “It's okay if you don't want to talk about it now, we have a lot of time anyway, just open up to me when you are ready, sir.” you tell him and he looks at you, giving you a nod and resumes the house tour.

It was fucking big.

Just like he said, he visited his son once more before leaving for work and the entire day you spent it with Aenys, getting to know him, observing his behaviour.

You noted that he was extremely shy at first but then he eventually warmed up to you, he still had his guard up of course since you were fairly new and a stranger in his life, you introduced yourself and he did the same.

He showed you all his toy collections, which you were genuinely fascinated by, he had so many dragon figurines and remembered each one by their name, his favourite was vhagar.

“It waass papa's once, when he was jus like mee.” he babbled cutely, the way he pronounced the words were so cute too, you swear you could die at it.

“Vhagar belonged to your papa?” you felt awkward saying the word papa, but you knew you had to considering that it was the term Aenys was used to, he nodded, smiling.

“Yesh! He gwave it to meh.” he says and you smile.

Aenys had quite a developed vocabulary for his age, though he pronunciation was a bit off, but you knew it would improve with time.

And just like that, you and Aenys grew close, he was always cheery to see you, you cooked and looked after him, feeding him vegetables in a way he would enjoy, and Aemond was surprised when he found out, considering Aenys refused to eat vegetables.

You put Aenys to sleep one day, singing him a lullaby and caressing his hair as he fell asleep in his bed, he watched you with big doe eyes, which were slowly beginning to get droopy as sleep overcame him. He closed his eyes and his brows were relaxed. You sat there for a while, watching him sleep, and you look at the time, 8PM, Aemond was running late, but you didn't mind, by the time he usually fell asleep, Aemond would've been there, listening to you sing to his son and when he finally fell asleep, you would leave, politely saying goodbye to Aemond, but this time you had stayed, since Aemond was late.

You noticed how Aenys eyebrows furrowed before you saw tears coat his eyelashes

“Mam… mama… I want mama...” he mumbled in his sleep and you swear you felt your heart wrench at that, then you heard small sniffles.

He was crying in his sleep.

Is this what usually happens after you leave? You felt extremely sad, you remember how Aemond had told you that Aenys grew up without a mother, how she had died during childbirth. You never really thought about it much but you realised how tough it must've been for Aenys, then suddenly you remembered all the times you played together or watched cartoons, how he would say the word "mother" longingly when he was referring to a mom dragon, or how he stared in a daze when a cartoon showed a mom taking care of his child.

He was beginning to notice an absence of a parental figure in his life.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sniffling getting louder, and Aenys was beginning to borderline cry out, you quickly picked him up and carried him, pacing around the room gently as you patted his back, his hand clung tightly onto the sleeve of your arm and he rested his cheek on your shoulder.

“Shhh, Aenys, it's okay.” you try consoling him but he kept repeating the words 'I want mama, mama.' in his sleep over and over again.

Not knowing what to do, you began to feel bad, so you did what you thought was the best.

“Aenys, Mama is here, it's okay hush now..” you coo gently into his ear and that's when he finally stops sniffling, 'mama?' he mumbles and you hum, “Yes, it's mama, do not cry anymore okay? Mama is here.” you caress his hair and he finally relaxes, you were so entranced in comforting him that your brain managed to ignore the presence of Aemond himself, who had arrived when you picked him up and paced around in a panic, he was going to interfere but then he heard you say those words.

You stopped dead in your tracks when you noticed him, heat climbing up your face as you realised he probably heard everything and also you were stricken with fear too cause you likely overstepped.

You gently placed Aenys down on the bed and got out of his room, anxiety coursing through your veins as you realised what you had done

But you were only trying to comfort him.

Aemond soon followed you out the room as well and you turned around to face him when he closed the door.

“I apologize— I'm so sorry—” you began.

“Don't. It's fine, I can understand why you did that.” he cuts you off, and you wince.

“He- he's been noticing.” you began and Aemond nodded, “I've noticed too.” he replies and sighs.

“Aenys has changed a lot since you've started babysitting him in a good way , and I've noticed it, he's becoming more and more aware of the world around him.” He moves to the living room, sitting on the couch and you do the same, sitting on the one opposite to him.

“I've made sure that he never felt a lack of anything in his life, but I guess it's only natural for a person to desire something he can't have.” he says.

“Aenys can have a mother, if you remarry, that void will be fulfilled somewhat.” you suggest and he looks at before chuckling “I've thought of that too, my mother said the same thing, but i cannot trust anyone, especially considering how many are after my money, who knows if they'll be kind to him, or whether Aenys will like them or not.” he sighs.

“That is true.” you agree with him and he looks at you.

“Unless… ” he begins, eye scanning your entire being and you look at him, your heartbeat quickening, just as he was about to say something, your phone rings and it cuts off the trance-like state you were in, and you look at it to see who it is.

It was a spam call.

But then your eyes bulge out of your sockets when you look at the time, “Holy shit it's late, I'm sorry sir but i have to leave now, or else it will be too dangerous.” you say and quickly apologise and he nods, dismissing you. That was the first night, sleep came to Aenys peacefully.

But it didn't to Aemond, he was lost in thought about everything, but then his mind wandered off to somewhere it shouldn't go.

The way you comforted Aenys stirred something inside you, the moment was perfect, you cooing in Aenys' ear that you were here, pretending to be his mother.

It was so perfect.

Almost as if you were made for that.

Aemond felt his heart flutter.

For the first time in years.

He couldn't help but accept the pull he felt towards you.

Aenys doesn't seem to remember the incident, probably cause he was literally just sleep talking so it was left at that, but you and Aemond however grew a bit close after that incident, he came back home early as he can, so he could spend time with his son and you, he was subconsciously trying to get his son used to both of them being around, both present in his life as parental figures.

You obviously weren't able to leave early just because he got home early because those were your mandatory hours, so it became your new normal to spend time with him and Aenys.

You couldn't deny that there was something definitely blooming in between you and Aemond, he would often throw appreciative comments in your way, which made your belly pool up with heat.

You noticed how he wanted to stay by your side, physical touch lingering, he had suggested that you 3 should go grocery shopping, and you found it odd considering he could literally order his clients to fetch them for him, but you agreed anyways, using it as a chance to get outside and let Aenys interact with other people. Aemond was heavily against sending him to the daycare, because he was scared for his son, it was understandable but it also set Aenys behind a bit.

“Mama, I want this!” you hear a kid yell at his mom and you watch as she refuses it gently, telling him no and that she will buy him the next time they come back here, and the kid just pouted, you chuckled at the sight.

You turned your attention to Aenys who was staring at the scene too, and you realised how he was in a daze once again as well, you looked at Aemond who also seemed to notice.

Aenys quickly ran in another direction and you panicked and almost ran after him before he was back in front of you again, grabbing the same toy the other child had grabbed earlier and showing it to you. “Ma-” he cut himself short before pushing the toy to show you “I want this!” he says and Aemond was confused at first and he was about to agree to buy that toy for Aenys until you butted in, “No Aenys, we can't buy it right now! We'll buy it next time when we come back here okay?” you say and he smiles sheepishly at you, before pretending to pout and put the toy back in a random shelf.

You chuckled at the childishness, he just wanted to feel the same type of experience that others do. Aemond knew it was just you both playing around, he didn't miss the way Aenys almost called you his mother, and it spurred him on further, the way you acted as a genuine mother.

Those type of random moments became often, and it pushed Aemond further and further to the edge, the way you would act like such a perfect mom made him want to bend you over any surface and fuck you, filling you up with his cum.

Aemond then suddenly started joining for lunch, he would usually eat at his office, but he made extra effort to drive home so he could eat with his 'family.' He loved your cooking, you made it taste like home, he would watch as you cut smaller pieces of fruits and vegetables for Aenys so he could properly chew and eat. He imagined how perfect you would be as his wife and like an official mother to his child, or better, children, all of these small things were pushing him to the edge

And soon it would push him off it.

Aemond cursed himself when he drove through the rain, already running late, he looked at his watch and read the time, it was 10PM, the meeting in the afternoon stretched over two hours long which set back the rest of his schedule by a lot, he quickly parked his hair before making his way inside his house, open the door with the extra key carried before shutting it close.

“Look Aenys! Dada's here.” he heard you say and he was immediately spun around, he didn't expect you to stick around this long, but then he realised it was raining heavily and you always went by taxi, there probably would've been no taxi available in this weather.

“Aenys didn't go to sleep yet?” he asks, undoing the suit he was wearing before throwing it on the couch, approaching both of you, taking Aenys into his arms.

“He wanted to wait until you got home, he was worried for you, though he seems tired hmm.” you pinch his nose playfully and he scrunches it up, “I'm not twired…” he says but then yawns earning a chuckle from both you and Aemond.

“I'll put him to sleep, you go freshen up.��� you say and Aemond nods, giving him back to you.

Fuck everything about that interaction felt too domestic.

And Aemond had lost his resolve.

He found you sitting on the couch, scrolling through something, he sat down next to you.

“What are you doing?” he asks and you look at him, “Trying to book cabs, but there are none available at the moment due to the weather.” you sigh before placing your phone down.

Aemond should've offered to drive you home but instead he offered to let you stay.

“You know you can stay over, I do not mind it.” he says and you look at him “Really? I don't wanna be a bother—”

“Oh please, you are never a bother.” he cuts you off and smiles at you. “You should freshen up for the night, you've been here since morning.” he says but you pout. “I do not have any clothes.” you say and he simply shrugs, “You can wear mine.” he pushes the buttons, wondering how far he can get away with it, he knew offering you to let you stay at his house already broke the employee boss relationship, hell, the moment he desired you was when it already broke.

“Mhm okay! Where is the guest bathroom?” you ask and he shakes his head, “The water heater is broken in that one, it's better if you use the attached bathroom in my room.” he says.

The water heater wasn't broken.

He was lying.

And you believed him.

He watched as you got up and made your way to his room, which was right next to Aenys', considering he has to react if something happens to him, he followed you inside opening the cupboards and giving you his hoodie and fresh pair of boxers which you thanked him for.

He left the room to give you privacy, but oh gods his mind was racing with all the thoughts.

He paced around, trying to contain himself, and he stood there in front of the door.

And then you opened it.

His hoodie reached to your thighs, and you looked at him, shocked to find him in front of the door, lips parted.

He snapped.

He quickly pushed you inside and shut the door behind you, slamming his lips against yours, and kissed you fervent hunger, you stumbled back and you almost fell but he caught you by your waist and pushed deeper into the kiss, moving his lips hungrily against your.

He pulls away, silently giving you a way out if you need it.

You should refuse this.

You should push him away.

But you don't, instead you wrap your arms around him and pull him into a deeper kiss, he groans when he feels you kiss him back, he pulls away once again, before grabbing you by your arm and pushing you onto the bed, making you fall on your back, your hoodie rising up, revealing your stomach, which he kissed lovingly before he pulled the hoodie even more further up, exposing your tits and pressing kisses to the nipples, causing you to gasp.

He pulls the hoodie off of you completely, and you raise your hands to assist him, he pulls off his shirt too, exposing his naked chest, and you bite your lip at the view, next he takes the boxes off you, doing the same, leaving you both completely bare to the room.

He pushes you upwards to the bed and crawls on top of you, kissing your face, neck, collar bones and valley between your breasts, his hands grab the flesh of your tits before he kneads them, massaging them, thumbs flicking the nipples making you arch your back.

One of his hands trails down to your core, dipping into the heat, he outright moans when he finds you practically leaking, collecting the arousal and bringing it upwards your bud. Rubbing small circles which makes you gasp.

He pulls his hand away and brings it up to lick at the wetness that has accumulated on the fingers, humming in satisfaction before he pressed kisses which travelled downwards until his mouth stopped right at your core, giving a small kiss to it to, you shivered when you felt his hot breath against it, the way the air he exhaled would hit your clit. He kissed the inner part of your thighs first, making you needy with want, wishing he'd just take you into his mouth.

And then he does, his tongue strides upwards from your opening to your clit, giving you one long lick before he captures your clit with his mouth, suckling on it, causing you moan his name loudly, both of his hands wrap around your thighs and he pulls them further apart, his fingers digging into the flesh as he hungrily devours your cunt, tongue flicking the bud constantly, you grip his hair and buck your hips, practically rutting against his face, you felt his tongue travelling down and lick at the wetness, the tip of his nose pushing against your clit, you felt your core tighten as the movement of his tongue sped up, causing you to topple over the edge and your orgasm hit you like a truck, making you whine loudly.

He greedily licked everything up before he placed wet kisses on your thighs, the residue of your wetness sticking to them before he sat back on his knees between your parted legs, you watched as he got up slightly, making his cock come into view.

Your eyes widened slightly, which didn't go unnoticed by Aemond, this stroked his ego very much.

He was big, bigger than any you've seen before, it was pale with a tip that was flushed pink due to the blood pumping, oozing precum out of it, he pumped his cock in his hand to ease the area, coating his dick in his own precum before he positioned it against your entrance, you bit your lip in anticipation but then you felt him slide against your folds, covering his dick in your wetness as well before slapping your clit with the tip of his dick, making you whimper.

He then lined himself against your entrance and pushed in, and you arched your back at the stretch, it was so delicious, you felt so full.

He leaned on top of you and gave you a passionate kiss, you could taste yourself on his tongue, making you taste the tanginess, he supported his weight on his elbows which were on either side of you, gripping yours, fingers intertwined with yours. You were locked in a missionary position, a position that felt intimate.

Then you felt him move, thrusting in and out at a brutal speed, causing you to moan his name, the thrusts made you jolt up the bed, breasts bouncing due to the force emitted from it, his grip tightening as he grunted on top of you, rutting into your wet heat, his hair dropped his shoulders, cascading around his face, and you gasped at how godly his looked like this.

Then you felt his tip hit your gspot, constantly, which caused you moan extremely loudly, “Fuckk! Ahh~ Aemond!” you mewled, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, his hand left one of yours to cover your mouth as he continuously slammed into you.

“Shh, be quiet, or he'll wake up.” he whispers, referring to Aenys who was sleeping in the next room and you nodded, you felt him pull his hand away but his thumb traced your lips, you opened your mouth which made him put his thumb inside and you sucked on him, and you felt him groan, then he pulled it out, hand going back to grip yours, and you bit your lip to hold back your moans from slipping out.

You felt your core begin to tighten again and it snapped once more, causing you to arch you back, pushing your breasts against his chest and he muttered 'fuck' feeling the way you clenched around him.

His thrusts begin to grow sloppy and lose their rhythm, indicating that he was close, “Fuckk, I'm gonna cum inside you.” he says and you whine, “I'm going to get you pregnant, watch you grow round with my kid…” he growls, thrusting into you again and again, “You're going to give Aenys little siblings, You will, right? He looked so lonely, I think he'd appreciate that.” he grunts and you nod quickly, mind too hazy to even comprehend or acknowledge the complications behind you agreeing to this.

“Good girl.” he says before he finishes inside you, and paints your walls white, shooting up his seed far into you, riding his orgasm out.

You felt him pull out and thought that was the end until he pushed you over onto your back, and sat on his knees, he grabbed your waist and pulled it up, and you immediately switched to supporting your on your knees as you arched your back, stretching like a cat, your hands on the side of you.

He groaned when he watched his cum drip down your thighs before he scooped it up and put it in his mouth, tasting your combined essence.

He was still hard.

So he wasted no time, shoving himself back inside you and you whined at the way your walls felt overstimulated, not knowing if you can handle one more orgasm consistently.

He sheathed himself inside your walls, and moved with fervent speed like before, his balls slapping against your thighs, the room was filled with erotic noises, he gripped your waist for support, until his hand travelled slightly upwards, catching one of your tits before gripping it tightly, and rolling the nipple in between his fingers.

“I can't wait to watch them swell.” he grunts.

“You'd look so pretty with my child in your belly, the way your tummy will swell? Gods fuck, that is a vision.” he moans

“Look at you, taking my cock so well, like you are meant to.” he notes, thrusting in and out, watching as the previous cum leaks out.

He clicks his tongue

“So much is going to waste, tsk, it's okay I'll fill you up again, make sure you get pregnant.” he groans and you moan, “Ye-yes fill me up.” you say, and he smirks at that, “Good girl, taking my cock like one.” he leans against you, your back pressing to his chest as he leaves kisses on the back of your neck, and you once again, topple over the edge for the third time.

He finishes too, inside you again.

You both fall besides each other on the bed, and realise the weight of the situation after the adrenaline and excitement of the moment fades away and the breathing becomes more stable.

“I- fuck.” Aemond begins not knowing what to say and you lay there quietly.

“Listen, ever since that day you walked in, I felt some type of pull towards you, I wasn't sure what it was, but it was as if we were meant to me, and I couldn't ignore the feelings brewing inside me.” you watch as he speaks.

“I- to put it in simple words, I fell in love with you. I really did, though it's fine if you do not share the same feelings, we can go back to pretending this never happened.” he confesses.

“I am in love with you too.” you confess, “I pushed these feelings away, because it wasn't appropriate.” you say and he looks at you this time.

Silence falls between you two.

A comfortable silence.

He pulls you closer and wraps his arms around you, hugging you, and you hug him back, the he places loving kisses atop you.

You felt something hard pressing against your inner thighs and you looked down, shocked to find him hard again, you chuckle.

“Again?” you tease and he playfully glares at you, “Yeah, you're so fucking irresistible.” he kisses your neck, hips mindlessly grinding against you. “I'm so sensitive.” you pout, but you get an idea, you quickly push him onto his back before getting on top of him, and then crawling down in between his legs, before taking his cock in your hand.

“Fuck!” he moans when he feels your warm hand wrap around it, before you gently tug on it, pumping your hand up and down, watching as the precum leaks out, you collect some with your tongue, poking the slight hole making him groan and grip the side of your head.

You trail kisses down to his balls, before giving them wet kisses as your hand pumps his cock, you lick a long stride up his length before taking him in your mouth, as best as you can, hands resting on his thighs to balance yourself.

You bob your head up and down, swirling the the tongue around him, pulling away time to time to breath before descending onto him once again, the grip on the side of your head tightened and you watched as he sat up slightly leaning on his elbow, before his hips thrusted upwards, and so you let him take control.

He collected your hair into a makeshift pony before gripping the back of your head tightly and thrusting his entire length into your mouth, the tip teaching the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, causing tears to well up in your eyes, you closed them and tried to breathe through your nose as he thrusted upwards and fast, essentially fucking your throat.

You felt him twitch slightly in your mouth, knowing he was close, you sucked him and hollowed your cheeks, he threw his head back at that, he felt steady pleasure rising within him before such a force expelled from his body, causing him to peak, shooting out ropes and ropes after cum into your mouth, you felt it hit the back of your throat, causing you to swallow unknowingly, before he slightly pulled out, cause the remaining to fall in your mouth.

He pulled out completely and watched your face, flushed and hair dishevelled, you held his cum in your mouth, waiting for his command, “Swallow.” and you did, obeying him, opening your mouth to show that there was none left, he groaned as he watched the remnants of his seed drip from the side of your mouth before he collected it with his index finger and shoved it back into your mouth, and you click his finger clean, he grunted before you upwards and kissing you, tasting himself in your mouth, hands squeezing your ass before he gave one of them light slaps, causing you to wince.

You pulled away and breathed heavily, he smiled down at you, before he left the bed to clean both of you up, collecting the clothes and getting dressed before he pulled beside him in the bed, going to sleep while hugging your form.

You dreaded the next morning, wondering how you'll explain your relationship to Aenys, you woke up to an empty bed, you read the time, it's was just 8AM, you felt sad but then you quickly got up and went outside finding Aemond and Aenys awake, sitting at the table conversing, your heart warmed at the sight, Aenys spotted you and ran over to you, lifting his arms up, asking you to silently to carry him, and you did, you picked him up before placing a small kiss to his forehead.

“Mama!” he said and you froze, before you looked at Aemond, who gave you a small smile and nodded and your eyes softened at it, it seems he had done the explaining.

“Mama! Mama!” Aenys grabbed your face making you look at him and you chuckled, “Yes Aenys, it's mama.” you say and he smiles brightly.

“I'll go get ready for work.” Aemond says, getting up from the spot he was sitting on and coming over to both of you before he pressed a kiss to Aenys forehead, and doing the same to you and going inside his room and getting ready.

You put Aenys down on his chair and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, you made simple eggs on toast, and just on the time, Aemond came out of his room, looking all ready and you placed three plates down, along with fruits cut into small pieces of Aenys.

“I made breakfast.” you say and Aemond smiles at you, before sitting down and the three of you ate breakfast.

Applying for this job was the best thing you've ever done.

Who knew your life would change the course of it in the span of just a few months.

There were other things to discuss, and you knew it was plaguing Aemond's mind as well, but you both decided it will be best if discussed later and so you both basked in this moment, listening to Aenys babbles.

“So i hwave a mom now rightt?” he asks Aemond who nods, “Are you happy?” he asks and Aenys nods quickly, “Yesh! Aenys is wery hwappy! But…” he trails off and you feel your heartbeat quicken.

“I want a sibling too…” he murmurs

Oh gods.

Your eyes flickered over to Aemond who stared at you, you blush and look away as you remembered the details of last night.

“I wwant a swister… ! or a bwother!!! Hmm any is fine…” he babbles on, not knowing what he is asking for.

You look at Aemond again, who didn't seem to take his eye off you at all.

He smirks.

Oh fuck.

You quickly get up and collect the empty plates before going behind the kitchen counter and placing them in the sink, washing your hands, focusing your attention on them, until you felt arms wrapped around your waist before one trailed upwards towards your breast giving it squeeze, you quickly looked up to see Aenys was watching until you realised he was nowhere to be seen.

“He's in his playroom.” Aemond whispered in your ear, grinding slowly against your ass.

“Heard that? He wants a sibling so badly, surely you can't deny him right?” he asks, pinching your nipples through the fabric causing you to gasp.

He places kisses down your neck, before he spins you around and kisses you on the mouth, making you wrap your arms around his shoulder. He pulls away before kissing you on the cheek.

His phone rings and he notices the time, 9:15AM, he was running late which was the first for him, and it was his assistant calling him.

“Fuck, mood spoiler.” he grunts before shoving his phone back in his pocket before placing a kiss to your mouth once again.

“Don't think I'm done with you yet, it's gonna be one hell of a ride when I get back home.” he presses one final kiss to your neck before pulling himself away from you, granted it was so fucking difficult considering how he wanted to fuck you on the kitchen counter just moments ago.

You nod and follow him to the front door.

“Have a nice day, Aemond.” you say, and he smiles at you, coming to kiss you but then Aenys comes running towards you both.

“Is dada going to work?? BYE DADAAA” he screams and Aemond chuckles, before waving a small 'bye' to Aenys, and leaving from the front door.

He barely left and he already couldn't wait to get back home from work.

And you gulped, nervous in anticipation.

Oh seven hells.

———

[em1i2a3]

I Do Love You

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bob go to the mall to find a gift for Bucky’s birthday party, only to get sidetracked with a different goal by the end of the trip. (This is a continuation of ‘The Air That I Breathe’)

Warnings: None, just pure fluff, and the established relationship between Bob and the reader, but that’s already known lol.

Author’s Note: I really wanted to do a little continuation of this, just a little fluff for a Friday. Just to ease back and relax a bit. I also enjoyed writing the first part so I really wanted to add to it :) (Literally running out of Bob gifs lol, I’m grasping at straws!)

Word Count: 3,802

The mall was unusually quiet for a Saturday.

Not completely empty–just…Hushed. There were still groups of people drifting in and out of shops, with fingers skimming over fabric racks, and occasionally you would hear voices rising near the escalators–but the usual chaos that weekends brought to a standalone mall was missing. No screeching kids tugging at their parents arms, no lines trailing outside of the newest pop up stores, no teenagers crowding the food court in packs. It was just a soft, steady rhythm of footsteps over tile, the low hum of dimmed overhead lights, and the familiar hiss of the air conditions kicking on in long pulses.

It wasn’t what you expected. Youhad braced yourself for the crush of bodies and the wail of pop music blasting from every storefront. Instead, it was all muted colors and diffused light, like someone had dimmed the saturation of the world. The skylights overhead stretched long and pale, casting thin streaks of daylight across polished floors that gleamed from fresh wax. The indoor trees–fake, but convincing if you just glanced at them–were strung with twinkle lights that hadn’t been removed since the holidays. A janitor pushed a cart quietly past the fountain, which was still running strong despite the chipped tile at its base.

You and Bob walked in step with one another, hands clasped in the space between you, fingers laced with the kind of casual intimacy that had become second nature over time. Your free hands were occupied with your respective drinks–yours a black iced Americano in a clear plastic cup that you sipped absently, letting the bitterness bloom on your tongue like an anchor to the cool quiet of the day. Bob’s was a frozen vanilla cappuccino, already half-melted and turning to slush at the bottom. He’d chosen it after much deliberation, mumbling something about wanting to try something “f-fun and different,” and then proceeded to complain that it was “a l-lot sweeter than expected,” though he hadn’t stopped drinking it since.

The two of you rounded the corner past a perfume store, the sharp floral scent bleeding out into the walkway. Bob wrinkled his nose subtly, and you glanced sideways, noticing how his eyes scanned the stores as you passed–not with the sharp focus of a man on a mission, but the distracted softness of someone enjoying the moment too much to rush through it.

You hadn’t forgotten why you were here though because the original plan was still the same: find something for Bucky’s birthday that didn’t suck.

You and Bob had spent the last few nights curled up together on his bed, bathed in the dim glow of your phone screens and the quiet static hum of the compound’s late-night silence, clicking through endless websites. Etsy, Amazon, specialty gift sites, forums you weren’t entirely sure were even safe to be browsing–if it could be searched, you’d searched it. Bob would type every keyword you could think of, while you suggested ideas.

It wasn’t that Bucky was difficult to shop for–he wasn’t. Not in the way that, say, Alexei was, where the safest bet was to just get something oversized and vaguely related to food. Or Yelena, who just flat out told you what she wanted. No, Bucky was simple, but he refused to give any ideas because he didn’t even want a party in the first place.

You wanted something he could actually use. Something he wouldn’t just tuck onto the far right of his bookshelf next to the unopened shaving kit and that random bonsai tree John gave him as a joke. You’d considered knives, obviously, but he already had too many–and frankly, so did everyone else on the team. A leather jacket? Too obvious. A watch? He didn’t wear the one he had. Something from his past? That was even harder. You had an entire tab open dedicated to ‘gifts for men from 40s,’ and most of it felt either too kitschy or like it belonged in a nursing home catalogue–or it gave you an ad for a nursing home even.

Eventually, you had sighed dramatically and turned to Bob, who had a chip between his teeth and a frown carved into his forehead like the pressure of picking the perfect gift might take him out permanently.

“We’re going to the mall,” You surrendered. “It’s the last resort.”

So here you were. On a reconnaissance mission. Tired, slightly over caffeinated, and hoping divine inspiration would strike between the candle shop and whatever kiosk was now selling bedazzled phone grips.

Bob hadn’t complained though. Not once.

In fact, he’d seemed almost grateful for the excuse to get out with you, his hand warm and steady in yours, his thumb brushing lazy lines over your knuckles while you wandered past storefront after storefront.

“Y-You sure he’d want s-something practical?” Bob asked as the two of you paused outside a camping supply store, where a full-sized mannequin in camouflage held a cooler in its hand with a fishing rod hanging behind it.

”I think he would use something practical,” You replied, taking a sip of your drink, “He just wouldn’t admit to liking it, but at least he would be using the thing, and that would be proof he liked it.” Bob hummed thoughtfully, glancing between you and the window.

”So…M-Maybe something like a weighted blanket m-might do? He’s g-got sleep issues.” You tilted your head, eyeing the mannequin like it might come alive and offer you unsolicited advice. Bob was still looking at you, one eyebrow raised with that quiet kind of curiosity he reserved just for you.

“It sounds like a good idea,” You admitted, “But summer’s coming up…” You took another sip of your Americano, letting the ice clink against your teeth. “He’s gonna be sweating bullets if we get him something with that much insulation. And we both know he already sleeps like he’s one nightmare away from flipping the mattress.” Bob nodded slowly, brows furrowed in thought as he sipped the last of his cappuccino slush through the straw. The sound was loud and final.

“I’m p-pretty sure they have cooling o-ones. We c-can go look in o-one of those ‘A-As Seen On TV’ stores…I-If they have one in there.” You sighed and gave Bob’s hand a light squeeze.

“You know I can’t say no to you…” You muttered, though the corners of your lips twitched into a fond smile. “Alright. We’ll check. Worst case scenario, we get a knockoff Snuggie and a weird back massager we can pretend is from Alexei.” Bob chuckled, pleased with himself, and then you perked up slightly with a new idea.

“Wait–what if we did, like, a gift basket? Not one big thing, but a bunch of little things. Stuff that’s useful or fun. Like a tactical care package.” Bob’s eyes lit up.

“Th-That actually…K-Kinda sounds perfect.” You nodded, a little more energized now that you actually had somewhat of a plan coming together.

” A cooling blanket, maybe a multi-tool thing, some weird little gadgets that’ll make him roll his eyes but secretly love.” You gestured down the corridor. “C’mon. Let’s hit that ‘As Seen On TV’ store. Bet we’ll find all the gifts in there.” As you turned down the next wing of the mall, you passed a jewelry store.

You didn’t mean to glance.

But you did.

Just a flicker of a look—enough to catch the glint of warm light over polished silver, gold, and rose gold. A neat little display of rings rested front and center. Not gaudy or flashy. Just elegant. Meaningful.

Your eyes lingered on one in particular. Something small. Subtle. A band that glinted in the light with a barely-there pattern etched around its edges.

And that’s when Bob noticed.

You didn’t see him looking at you, but he did. Just for a second. His gaze shifted from the display window to your face, catching the soft change in your expression. That quiet, contemplative breath you took. The way your fingers curled gently around his. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

He just kept walking.

But his hand didn’t let go of yours.

The “As Seen On TV” store was tucked into a corner of the second level, sandwiched between a sunglasses outlet and a place that exclusively sold oversized hoodies with cartoon frogs on them. Inside, it was a chaotic collage of flashing signs, colorful boxes, and product demos looping on grainy monitors.

Within ten minutes you and Bob had collected a whole array of things in your arms. A compact ‘6-in-1 tactical pen’ that could break glass, shine a light, open bottles, and also had a hidden knife on the end of it. A cooling weighted blanket made with ‘NASA-Developed temperature control gel,’ Bob mentioned he was probably going to look into it when they got back to the compound, but you both knew Bucky would like it. You added a hand-held muscle massager because he complained a lot about shoulder pain, and you also got him a little fidget ring, as you noticed he would wring his hands a lot when he was focused.

By the time you got to the register, you were confident you had the makings of a half-sincere, half-affectionate care package that Bucky would grumble about, but use .

Afterward, you wandered to the food court, the late afternoon light softening as it filtered in through the high windows above. It was quieter than you expected. Most of the tables were empty. The two of you grabbed hot pretzels and a bottle of water to split, settling into one of the corner booths overlooking the fountain below. Bob tore a piece of pretzel and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

“S-So we have t-to put in the cake order still, right?” You raised your eyebrows.

”Shit. Right. We need to do that.” He nodded, licking salt off his thumb.

”Yelena m-mentioned it needed to be a s-sheet cake…D-Do you know how many people a-are showing up to this thing?” You bit the inside of your lip as you tore off a piece of the steaming pretzel, popping it into your mouth quickly and chewing.

“They say it’s going to be around fifty people, apparently,” You said around a mouthful of buttery salt. “I don’t know where they got the idea Bucky would want a fifty-person birthday party, but…You know Yelena and Ava.”Bob winced in agreement.

“O-Oh, I know them…”He said, eyes wide in mock horror. “I c-can tell they want this to be a b-big thing for him…” You snorted.

”If they ever find out when my birthday is, please, for the love of God, attempt to prevent them from doing this to me.” Bob smirked and reached across the table, taking your free hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like a slow, secret comfort.

“I-I’ll do my very best…” He said softly, “But…N-No promises.” You groaned, head thunking lightly back against the seat.

“Who am I kidding…You’ll fold like a lawn chair because of Yelena.”

“She has a convincing tone,” Bob admitted sheepishly, then took another bite of his pretzel and chewed in thoughtful silence.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The hum of the fountain nearby filled the quiet space between you, soft and steady. You could see a small kid tossing coins into it from afar, his mother half-distracted by her phone. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon sugar and frying oil, the kind of comforting scent that belonged to places like this–transient and nostalgic.

Then Bob shifted slightly in his seat, and the movement pulled your attention back to him.

“B-Before we go to the bakery to p-put in that cake order…” He began, carefully, like he was choosing each word with precision. “W-We need to make one more stop.” You tilted your head and raised your brows.

“Yeah?” Where?” Bob’s smile twitched slightly at your question, shy but steady.

“J-Just finish your pretzel,” He said, nudging your foot under the table. “I-I’ll take you there.” You arched a brow, tearing another piece of buttery dough and popping it into your mouth.

“Didn’t think you’d be the type to surprise me,” You replied with a teasing glance, chewing slowly, “You always get too nervous and end up telling me halfway through your plan.” Bob snorted through a crooked smile, eyes dipping to his lap for a second before glancing back at you.

“I-I can be sneaky s-sometimes.” He commented, with the smallest bit of pride in his voice. You both laughed–soft and easy. That kind of shared laughter that came with knowing each other’s rhythms, with time and trust and more late nights than you could count. It filled the little corner of your booth like a secret, golden thing. For a moment, the stress of the party, the people waiting for you back at the compound–none of it mattered. There was only the sound of the fountain, the warmth of your joined hands, and the last few salty, satisfying bites of a hot pretzel.

When you were both finished and had tossed the wrappers, Bob stood, pulling you gently to your feet. His hand stayed in yours, thumb brushing against your skin like a grounding line. Then he stopped a few steps from the table and turned to you.

“O-Okay…” He said, a little breathlessly now. His free hand rubbed the back of his neck. “C-Close your eyes?”

You tilted your head, curious now. “Really?”

“R-Really.”

You studied his expression for a beat–soft, a little nervous, but sure–and then gave in with a tiny smile, dropping your gaze and shutting your eyes.

“Alright. I’m trusting you not to walk me into a mall fountain.”

“N-No promises,” He muttered under his breath, just loud enough to make you snort. The next few steps were slow, careful. His hand was firm in yours, guiding you through the open concourse. The hum of the escalator faded behind you, and you could feel the shift in light–how it brightened a little with each step as you neared one of the storefronts with big windows and carefully positioned spotlights.

You felt him pause.

Then, just barely above a whisper: “O-Okay…Open your eyes.”

You blinked.

And found yourself standing in front of the jewelry store. The same one you passed on the way to the ‘As Seen on TV’ store. The one with soft gold lighting and velvet-ringed displays. The one you’d dared to glance at for too long. The one he hadn’t said a word about–until now. You looked at the store, and then at him. Your brows lifted slowly, your mouth parting just slightly.

“Bob…” His cheeks were flushed, but his eyes–those impossibly open, sea-glass blue eyes–were steady. There was a tremble in his hand, but not in his voice when he finally spoke.

“S-Since we have time…” He said, quiet but certain, “I thought maybe we c-could…Ring shop.” You didn’t answer right away, because the lump forming in your throat made it hard to breathe. But then your hand squeezed his, your smile softened, and you nodded once.

“Yeah,” You whispered, heart thudding somewhere beneath your ribs. “Let’s do it.”

And just like that, he stepped forward with you, into the golden light.

The store smelled faintly of polished wood and something floral–freesia or lavender, maybe–soft and expensive in that way that made everything inside feel just a little quieter. The lights were warm but diffused, and the cases gleamed beneath them like little glass temples, each one home to tiny artifacts of love and promises.

You stood beside Bob just inside the entrance, hands still laced, the silence between you held like a thread made of gold.

It was the kind of store you’d walked past a thousand times but never stepped into. You suddenly became very aware of your shoes, your breathing, the fact that you were holding half of Bucky Barnes’ birthday present in a tote bag. Bob gave your hand a little squeeze, and you looked up at him,

”You o-okay?” He asked, voice low. You smiled, a little stunned.

“Yeah. Just… I’ve never done this before.”

He leaned a little closer. “M-Me neither.”

That made you both laugh–nervous, but soft. It broke the tension just enough that you both stepped forward.

The glass counters curved around the perimeter of the room, broken up by matte black display stands that held small, velvet-lined trays of rings. Some with diamonds. Some without. Some that looked like they belonged in a royal family’s vault, others so simple they almost looked like silver wire bent into a promise.

Before either of you could make a move toward any of them, a store associate appeared–young, sharply dressed, and carrying an air of practiced calm. She smiled gently, eyes warm as they glanced between you and Bob.

“Welcome in,” She chirped. “Looking for anything specific today?” You hesitated. Bob, however, cleared his throat and took a small step forward.

“W-We’re just…Uh, l-looking,” He replied, shifting his weight slightly. “I-I mean–we’re here for rings of course. B-But not like–well…We’re g-getting ideas.” The associate didn’t blink.

“That’s a perfect place to start,” she said. “Anniversary? Promise? Something custom?” You opened your mouth, but Bob beat you to it.

“I-I want something that…That’ll represent our relationship,” he said, his voice gaining confidence the longer he spoke. “We m-may not have time to get married for a while–but…” He trailed off, causing the associate to smile and gently cut in.

”You wanted to make it official.”

“Y-Yeah. Exactly.” Something fluttered in your chest at how easily she understood. And how quickly Bob had agreed. She gestured to one of the nearby trays.

“Alright then,” She started, “Let’s look at a few options. Something durable but meaningful, right? Not too flashy?” You nodded.

”Sounds about right.”

“Great. We’ll focus on comfort-fit bands–platinum, white gold, titanium, something simple that could last through…Well, anything.” Her gaze flicked knowingly to Bob’s frame. “You two strike me as people who live a little out of the ordinary.” Bob laughed, soft and sheepish.

“Y-You don’t know the half of it.” She began laying out a few bands in a neat row–some with subtle etchings, others smooth and classic. She slid one tray forward toward you, and another toward Bob, encouraging you both to take your time. You picked one up between your fingers, the metal cool and slightly heavier than expected.

“Is this weird?” You asked quietly, glancing up at Bob. “To do this now?” He looked at you like you’d asked if the sky was real.

“No,” He said. “I-It’s…It’s us. That means it’s not weird.”

You smiled, ducking your head to hide how hard your heart was thudding. Bob’s fingers hovered over the tray for a long moment, eyes scanning the rings with a kind of reverent attention–like they were artifacts he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch.

Then, he reached out and gently picked one up.

It was a rose gold band–slender, but not dainty–with a single oval-cut tourmaline set into the center. The stone caught the warm lights above like it had been waiting for them all along. It shimmered with shades that shifted each time it tilted: black at its base, deep amber at the edges, and flecks of deep sapphire swimming just beneath the surface. Like a nebula sealed in glass. Like light and shadow arguing quietly.

Bob held it between his thumb and forefinger for a long moment, studying the way it shimmered. Then he turned to you and, with a shy tilt of his head, extended it in your direction.

“C-Can you try it on?” he asked, voice just above a whisper. “J-Just so I can see what it…what it’d look like on you.”

Your heart skipped.

He didn’t say it was an engagement ring, but he didn’t need to. You could feel the weight of what he meant in his gaze–how tender it was, how full of things that hadn’t been spoken yet. You smirked a little, but your fingers were steady as you took the ring and slipped it onto your finger.

It slid over your knuckle with a soft resistance and settled at the base like it belonged there. The stone shimmered in the warm light, casting rose gold tones into your skin and splintering them into color. Bob stared for a second longer than he probably meant to. Then his lips curved into a soft smile.

“It s-suits you,” He said, breathless. “The colours do t-too.”

You tilted your hand, watching the way the light shifted through the gem–deep shadows at the base, that strange gold glow, and a flicker of blue right at the center. Your head tilted, a thoughtful smile curling at your lips.

“It’s the colours of you, Sentry and the Void.” You pointed out softly, Bob’s eyebrows drew together slightly.

”I-I’m not blue though…” He replied, almost in a mock defence. You turned to him, with your brows raised. A smirk appears on your lips.

”Yeah, but your eyes are, you little Bozo.” That got him. He huffed a short laugh, eyes crinkling as he tried to suppress a bigger grin, but failed.

“O-Okay. That’s fair.” You both laughed then–soft and unguarded, laughter that cracked open the nervous stillness of the moment like sun breaking through clouds. The associate across the counter smiled faintly but stepped back a respectful distance, letting you both have it.

The moment.

The breath between laughter and everything it meant.

Bob glanced down again at the ring, then up at you, the glow of the store lights catching in his eyes. Something in him shifted–a soft settling, like he’d made some quiet decision in his heart even if he hadn’t said the words aloud yet.

“D-Don’t get too attached,” He teased gently, tapping the edge of the ring with a fingertip.”M-Might have to wait for the day where…You know…I m-make it official.” You blinked once. Then smiled, slow and wide, heart full and fluttering.

“Guess I’ll just have to wait and see then,” You murmured, voice low and full of something golden, as you continued to stare at the ring in absolute awe.

[world-of-aus]

Exposure

Pairing: Hockey Player!Bucky x Sports Photographer!Reader

Warning: A whole tall glass of angst my friends.

Author's Note: I try not to get in my head during the editing phase since it's been so long, but alas nothing different.. Anyway here's part II. Part III based off the schedule i've decided to go with will be out Tuesday! Enjoy my little puck bunnies!

The following day you arrived at the arena before sunrise. You soaked in the moment; the city still wore its quiet. Streets hushed, the skies heavy and gray, you liked it this way, before the buzz started, before the lights turned on and the world expected you to smile or answer questions that right now you weren’t sure you had the answers too. 

You slipped inside through the side entrance, badge clipped to the collar of your work polo, your camera bag slung high over one shoulder. Your footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, familiar and grounding. Your sanctuary. Game days were always louder. Busier. But the morning after? Just a few trainers and early risers. Equipment staff. And a few rookies running drills in the distance. 

And You. 

You made a beeline for the media room, needing the hum of your monitors and the soft click of your editing software like a balm to soothe the invisible ache beneath your skin. Shutting the door behind you, you flicked on the desk lamp, pulling out your chair as you took a seat opening the folder from last night’s game. 

You tried to maintain your focus as you sorted through the gallery, but your eyes kept drifting to that one photo. 

The one you shouldn’t have saved. 

Bucky, turning mid-play. Looking right at you. Looking for you. 

Your jaw clenched as you minimized the window, pulling up a different set; group shots, sponsor promos, post-game press conference angles. You worked through them all methodically, flagging and exporting, labeling for the Bruins’ socials and web team to go through when they had a chance. 

“Hey you, good morning.” You startle in your chair hand clasped to your chest as you turn your head to find the voice.

Dolores, one of the media team assistants, leans up against the doorway, smile pulling at her bubble gum pink lips as she holds two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. “Didn’t think anyone beat me in today, but i shouldn't be surprised, you were on fire last night."

You exhale a breath forcing a smile onto your lips. “Thank you. I - I couldn’t sleep.” 

“Ah. Game high?” she questions stepping into your office.

“Something like that.” You nod, “figured I could get a head start today sorting through last night’s gallery.” 

Dolores nods subtly as she hands you a coffee perching herself on the edge of your desk. “So,” she hums around a sip, “any thoughts on the new guy?” 

You keep your face neutral at the mention of him, “He played well, I think he’s going to be great for the team.” you answer holding back all you really want to say

“Well? Did we watch the same game last night?" she laughs. "He was an absolute machine out there y/n! Three assists, two goals, and that overtime steal? The team is obsessed already. Not gonna lie, I didn’t think someone with that kind of name recognition would be nice, but he said thank you to everyone last night. Even the janitor.” 

You stirred your coffee slowly taking in her words, everything you already knew, “That’s good.” you offer. 

Dolores eyed you, brow raised. “You feeling okay y/n?” 

You nod, offering up a smile, “I’m fine, just a lot on my mind with deadlines." Lie. 

“Cool, cool” Dolores trails off, perking up when she feels her phone vibrate. You watch the brunette pull her phone from her pocket, eyes lighting up, “Oh, group text from Theo. They want to set up the media shoot for Barnes. Headshots, player profile, some PR content. Probably later this week.” 

Your stomach dropped. Of course. 

“That shouldn’t be a problem, right?” You choke on your coffee. 

Dolores blinks brown raised in concern. “Okay, seriously you good?” 

You clear your throat, nodding your head, “Yeah, fine, fine.” Another lie. “Just went down the wrong pipe.” you smile. 

She gives you another wary look her finger hovering over her phone, “Actually you want me to cover the shoot when it’s scheduled? You’ve had the past few days stacked, I'm sure you could use a break.” 

You hesitated. A normal person would say yes. A sane one. But the photographer in you, the one who never backed away from a challenge, never let her personal life interfere with her work—sat up straighter. 

“No,” you said. “I’ve got it, Thursday, right?” 

“Thursday.” she confirms smiles kissing her lips as she gets to her feet. “Should be fun. Plus, he's easy on the eyes.” 

The smile doesn’t reach your eyes this time. “Yeah.” Dolores leaves without another word much less another glance back your way as she exits, your office door shutting softly behind her. Your eyes slip shut, forehead falling to rest on your hand. 

What am I doing. 

Four years ago, you had let yourself believe you’d have a life with Bucky Barnes. A future. He promised he wouldn’t forget you, and maybe he didn’t. But remembering wasn’t the same as staying. 

Now he was back. On your turf. Wearing the same jersey, part of the same team. A dream you once had.

But you’d wanted space. Needed time to collect yourself. after the splash of cold reality.

Instead; you were being handed time alone with him, a camera lens, and nowhere to hide. 

God how were you going to get through this? 

After the bomb was dropped on you your morning seemingly dragged. 

You buried yourself in editing, tagging, uploading and when your screen began to blur, you switched to shooting some behind-the-scenes content for the social team; quick snaps of the locker room being restocked, jerseys being hung, trainers prepping gear. Easy, harmless, no emotional landmines. 

Until the sound of skates on concrete echoed through the hallway just outside the tunnel you were walking through

You didn't have to look to know who it was. The low cadence of Bucky’s voice carried with it that distinct scrape of memory, warm nights and colder mornings, whispers in the dark, promises traded under streetlights and winter skies. You backed up, ducking into the supply room, waiting for the sound to fade. Your chest felt tight, like it had forgotten how to expand all the way. 

Coward, you thought, gripping the camera around your neck. This isn’t you. 

But your feet wouldn’t move letting the seconds tick by until silence reclaimed the hall. 

When you finally stepped back out, the air felt heavier, like it remembered him too. 

— 

Across the ice, Bucky had just wrapped drills with the second line and was toweling off when Sam skated up beside him. 

“You good tinman?” Sam asked swiping his own towel across his skin. “You’ve missed the net twice.” 

Bucky blew out a breath, shaking his head as if that would clear his mind. “It’s my first week Wilson, just settling in, getting used to the team.” 

Sam raises a brow at his friend. “That look like settling to you? I've seen you do better with worse.” 

Bucky doesn’t answer. Truth was, his head wasn’t in the drills this morning. Not with you somewhere nearby, probably avoiding every corridor he stepped foot into. 

He hadn’t expected you to be here. Had hoped upon, maybe. But seeing you last night? 

That had knocked the air right from his lungs. 

You hadn’t changed much, still had that quiet fire in you, still moved like you didn’t want to be seen and couldn’t help but draw every eye anyway. 

But your walls, they were taller now. Sharper. Like maybe he was the reason you had built them. He was.

Sam nudged him with his stick. “C’mon man. Don’t make me look better than you. It’ll mess with my image and you know how i feel about my image - i'll be downright insufferable."

Bucky managed a smirk, “yeah Wilson we all know how you are about your image.” 

“Damn straight you do, now get your ass in line and show them why they made that trade, let them know who you are."

— 

Later that afternoon as you checked the team calendar. The photoshoot had been scheduled for Thursday morning. You stared at the block of time like it might disappear if you willed it hard enough. Thirty minutes alone. In the white-wall studio. With him. 

It wasn’t enough time to prepare. 

It was too much time to survive. It was - 

A knock at the door jolted you your head peeking over your shoulder.

Wanda peeked her head in, holding a paper bag in one hand and a concerned look in the other. “I brought food. And if needed, unsolicited best friend wisdom.” 

You let out a tired laugh, lips turning up in a genuine smile as you took in your best friend. “You always know.” 

“Damn right I do.” Wanda grinned stepping in the door falling shut behind her, you watched as she plopped into the chair opposite your desk. “You didn’t answer my texts last night. Or this morning. Got worried, I assumed you either died or ran off to join a convent after New's broke." 

“I thought about it,” you said, voice flat. “The convent thing.” 

Wanda arched a brow and handed over a wrapped sandwich. “So, how bad was it?” 

You didn’t answer right away staring at the sandwich in your hands like it might crack open and reveal a solution to you. 

Wanda leaned forward, her voice gentle. “Hey, talk to me y/n.” 

You let out a shaky breath meeting your friends' eyes. “It’s like, he walked in and every part of me remembered. My body, my brain, my camera, my heart, they all remembered. And I’ve spent four years trying to forget. Four year’s Wands. "

Wanda’s expression softened. “Oh y/n..” 

“I thought I was past it I really thought I was. I thought I made peace with what happened. But seeing him? Looking at me like I’d never left his memory?” You blinked hard, shaking you head. “It was like time didn’t care about all the healing I’d done.” 

Wanda was quiet, letting you get it out. 

You set your food down, untouched, suddenly not feeling very hungry as the next words came. “He came up to me after the game. Said one thing. One thing that once upon a time i longed to hear."

“What did he say?” 

You swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t forget you.” 

Wanda’s eyes widened. “He said that?” 

You nodded tears pressing at the backs of her eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. “It’s not fair Wanda, why did he have to say that, I was okay, I healed – I healed.” 

Wanda reaches across your desk gently covering your hand with hers. “That’s not nothing, that means something.” 

Your watery gaze found hers. “It used to mean something. But he still left. And I stayed behind, picking up pieces of myself I didn’t know I’d dropped. I had to rebuild my life without him in it. I rebuilt it."

“I know,” Wanda said softly fingers squeezing. “But you don’t have to pretend you’re unaffected now.” 

“I’m not unaffected. I’m - unmoored.” 

The two of you sat in silence for a beat, the kind that wrapped around you with weight and warmth all at once. Pulling in a breath you wiped beneath your eyes with the tips of your fingers. “His media shoot is Thursday.” 

Wanda blinked. “As in you and him, alone in a room with your camera Thursday?” 

You nodded slowly. 

Wanda winced. “Do you want me to pull strings? Get someone else assigned?” 

“No.” You shook her head. “It’s my job. And it’s just thirty minutes. I can handle thirty minutes.” 

Wanda gave you a long, steady look. “It’s okay to break a little, you know. You don’t always have to hold the frame.” 

You offered a ghost of a smile. “Someone has to.” 

Thursday. 10:02 AM.  You adjusted the lighting rig with trembling fingers. The white backdrop behind you swayed slightly in the draft from the ventilation above. Everything was too bright, too clean. Too still. The silence felt artificial. Even your camera rested quietly on the stool beside you, waiting for you to break first. 

You kept checking the time. 

The media shoot was scheduled for 10 a.m. sharp. 

At 10:04, the door creaked open. 

You didn’t have to look up to know it was him, but you did anyway. 

Bucky stepped in, a little breathless, in full gear minus the helmet. His hair was damp from morning practice, pushed back in a way that should’ve looked unkempt but didn’t. His cheeks were flushed, and there was a half-smile on his lips, the kind that came instinctively when he didn’t know what else to do. 

It was like a body check to the ribs. 

He stopped just inside the doorway. “Hey.” 

You nodded attempting to tilt your lips up in a smile. “Hi.” Silence stretched between the two of you, taut and fragile. 

He moved a little closer. “You still shoot on a Nikon?” 

You blinked, he remembered. “Yeah, I do.” 

He gave a soft chuckle. “Thought so.” 

You swallowed. “Still wear the same brand of cologne.” 

That made him grin, unexpected, a flash of something that belonged to another life. “You remembered?” You shrugged softly, focusing your eyes on the camera instead of him. “It’s hard to forget something that used to be everywhere.” 

His smile faltered, faded. “Right.” 

You picked up your camera as youadjusted the settings. Your fingers didn’t shake this time. Not because you weren’t affected, but because the camera gave you purpose. And purpose, at least, gave you armor. 

“Let’s get started,” you said setting yourself up. 

He nodded wordlessly stepping onto the white tape mark on the floor. 

You raised the camera and suddenly everything slowed. The viewfinder filled with his face, older now, sharper, but familiar in a way that made your throat tighten. You forced yourself to remain focused; you adjusted, snapped. Click. 

He didn’t smile at first. Just watched you with quiet eyes, letting you work. Letting you look at him without looking directly. 

“Smile,” you said softly. 

He gave you a crooked one. 

Click. 

“Eyes up.” 

He tilted his chin slightly, gaze catching yours through the lens. The way he looked at you, steady, careful, made something in your pulse quicken.  

Click. 

A pause. You lowered the camera. 

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky said. 

You stiffened shaking your head softly, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea Bucky we should really just focus on what we’re here for.” 

“Too late,” he said gently. “Because I really want to.” 

You hesitated. Then: “Go ahead.” 

His voice was low as he asked the one question that had been ringing in his mind. “Why didn’t you write back?” 

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes widening slightly at his words. 

He stepped forward then just a fraction. “I sent letters y/n. A few actually. I left you messages. I didn’t just vanish.” 

You looked away, jaw clenched. “I know you didn’t vanish Bucky, trust me I know. You just became unreachable.” 

“I tried, y/n. I know I was busy; I know things moved fast, but I didn’t forget -” 

“Don’t,” you cut in, sharper than intended. “Don’t say that like it fixes anything.” 

He went still. 

You took a breath, tried again, quieter this time. “I didn’t write back because I didn’t know how to say I wasn’t okay. Not without sounding like I wanted to hold you back.” 

“You wouldn’t have,” he said with a shake of his head. “You never could have.” 

“But I didn’t know that then.” your voice cracked. “We were younger than Buck, and watching you become everything you dreamed of I wouldn’t be the one to hold you back from that - I needed to figure out who I was without you.” 

The room pulsed with silence. 

He stepped forward again, slower this time. “I never wanted to be someone you had to live without, I wanted your dreams.” I wanted you. 

You blinked hard, eyes burning. You would not cry. 

“I missed you,” he said, quiet and sure. “Even when I was surrounded by everything, I thought I wanted.” 

You looked up at him, camera still clutched in your hands. “I missed you too Bucky. But missing someone doesn’t always mean you get them back.” 

The two of you stared at each other, grief and longing suspended between the two of you like dust in a shaft of light. Then you lifted the camera again, as if to say: This is who I am now; without you.  

He nodded, understanding. And despite your treacherous mind and heart telling you to take back your words, to talk to him, you pulled your focus back in on the task and finished the shoot. 

Bucky didn’t leave the studio right away; even though you had turned away quickly after the last shot, pretending to check your gear, giving him an easy out his feet stayed planted on the white tape line watching you. You hadn’t forgiven him that much was clear, but you hadn’t shut him down either. You’d let him in, reminding him what it used to feel like to be seen by you; fully, quietly, completely. He wanted to know where to go from here, but his mind had no idea what the next step looked like. 

It wrecked him. 

“Barnes,” someone called from the hallway. Trainer’s voice. Break time. 

He hesitated for a moment wanting to say more but not wanting to push when you had just barely let him in. With one last longing look at your back he turned, leaving the same way he came. 

You waited until the door clicked shut behind him before sitting down hard on the edge of the backdrop stand. Your camera dangled from your hands, heavy and warm, like it had soaked up all the heat in the room. You felt hollowed out. You had held it together, and now you wanted nothing more than to fall apart. But there wasn’t time for that now, there was never time. 

Running a hand over your face, you catch the edge of moisture at your lash line. You wouldn’t cry. Not now. Not here. The shoot had gone fine. Technically perfect. But emotionally? 

A disaster. 

He still looked at you like you were the only person who mattered most in any room he walked into. You’d hated it how all you wanted to do was soak it up. You didn’t know which instinct scared you more. 

A soft knock on the door startles you. 

You stand quickly, wiping your palms on the back of your jeans as you watch the door creak open a head popping through. 

It wasn’t Bucky, It was Logan, the team’s media assistant. “Hey, you good? Coach wants selects from the player shoots by the weekend.” 

You nodded, “I’ll have them ready before then, no worries.” 

“You, okay?” 

You smiled. Too polished, too quick. “Yeah. Just been a long week, just about ready to get out of here."” 

He didn’t push. “Cool. Let me know if you need help sorting.” 

“Thanks.” 

When he left, you finally let yourself sit back down. And this time, you let your eyes close. 

Just for a moment. 

Just until the feeling passed. 

— 

Later that day, Bucky found himself wandering into the empty arena. It was quiet, ice freshly zambonied, light streaming through the upper windows in long, soft angles. He sat on the bench, helmet cradled in his hands, thinking about what you had said early that morning. 

“I needed to figure out who I was without you.” 

He’d never considered that you might’ve been drowning while he was flying. He’d thought you were the strongest person he knew. And you were, without a doubt in his mind, but strength didn’t mean pain didn’t touch you. He’d convinced himself the two of you were just growing apart. That the silence had meant acceptance. But now? 

Now he saw it for what it was: self-preservation. 

You hadn’t known how to be with him while he became someone else. And maybe, deep down, he hadn’t made enough space for you to stay. 

He leaned back, letting his head tip against the glass behind the bench. It was cold. Grounding. 

He didn’t know how to fix it. 

But he wanted to. 

For the first time in a long time, he wanted something more than goals, more than glory. 

He wanted to be someone you could look at without flinching. 

— 

That night, as you sat curled up on your couch, laptop open, Bucky’s photos pulled up on the screen you paused. Each shot was good. Clean. Professional. But sterile, in a way you hadn’t noticed while shooting. 

Until the last few. 

Those were different. 

Something had shifted between frame twelve and fifteen, his eyes had stopped performing and started speaking to you. 

The final image? 

It hit you like a sucker punch. He was looking straight into the lens. Not smiling. Not guarded. Just open. And somehow, impossibly, waiting. 

You stared at it for a long time, you should have deleted it, but you didn’t. 

You closed your laptop instead, falling to your side as you curled up further on the couch, your arms wrapping around a cushion like it might hold you together. 

You see, the worst part wasn’t that he was back. 

The worst part was that he still felt like home. 

And you didn’t know if you could survive losing him a second time. 

[hivemuthur]

To Be Known - Ch.2.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! Modern AU, set in London, current era but not very specific. It's just a love story.

<- previous chapter MASTERLIST next chapter ->

word count: 4,6K

warnings, or rather this chapter contains: one saucy Freaktor, smut in d/s dynamics, very slight barely-there miss-it-if-you-blink degradation, no crazy stuff yet just plain old sex, subspace/domspace, two people in utter delulu about feeling like that about each other after one night. So, kids shoo!

author’s note: Ok, this is us, eating the veggie meatballs. My knee is jumping because I really want to go look at the organization containers to sort out my storage room. So, for me this is sort of a filler episode :v Also, I made a playlist, if you want to listen. I think Sundays will be my days to publish this, if you like consistency.

Special thanks as usual to @rennethen for proof reading. Artist is @petitesieste ♡

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Oh, how he hates gatherings. Every second is so precious to him. Every single moment wasted on indulgence is one that could’ve brought him closer to whatever goal he was working toward with Jayce. But even Viktor is only human. So, after hundreds of whiny please and tons of pleading eyes from Jayce, he finally caved.

He begged Jayce for five more minutes, then another five, before relenting when his partner came at him with the intention of dragging him out of the lab by force—by the ears, or worse, by throwing him over his shoulder like a damsel.

He complained all the way in the cab, telling Jayce that he needed to vent before putting on his social face. He spent the first half an hour sipping his drink, unamused by all the conversations about superficial science and culture, forcing himself not to roll his eyes at Salo.

Until Mel’s eyes lit up with that familiar excited glint when she waved at you stepping through the door. Viktor stole a glance, then lingered despite himself, only turning away when your eyes began to roam the table. He couldn’t help but notice the one too-low undone button of your shirt, the crease in it, and your freshly applied red lipstick, making your mouth stand out the most. Pretty, Viktor thought, and immediately regretted not taking Jayce up on the offer of meeting you earlier.

But Viktor knew better than this. He knew better than to step his foot into the crack of a door that should remain closed. A man married to his work, he occasionally engaged in affairs to quiet the storm in his mind when it became unbearable. But here, dealing with a common friend and a potential disaster of what his usual practices might entail, he was, after a moment of thought, grateful that he hadn’t met you earlier.

And he worried momentarily that you would notice, or rather, feel the way his eyes burned into your throat every time you spoke. Or that you would notice the special attention he gave each time you cracked your fingers with a loud pop. When you rolled your spine against the back of the chair, he nearly sighed, but managed to swallow it down. Your frazzled demeanour and the way you spoke about your work had him both hypnotised and impressed—not only because every word spilled from your red mouth, but because he welcomed the thought of reducing this sharp, self-possessed creature to a whimpering mess at his feet faster than he could blink.

A theory formed in his head quicker than he would like to admit, based on loose evidence that made him think he might be wishing it into existence. Only one way to check. A perfect opportunity presented itself when your carefully held facade slipped through the overlapping voices of a tiresome conversation.

When he leaned in and rested his hand on your thigh, he thought nothing of it. When his nose brushed under your ear and he inhaled your scent, he still thought nothing of it. Even when you froze at the feeling of his arm crowding you, there still wasn’t a thought of conclusion clattering through his head. Yet once the command was served and you slipped back into laser focus, his cock knew before he did. It twitched insistently at the ghost of your fingertips passing him the bottle and at the sight of your parted mouth and hooded eyes as you ogled his throat.

And he had to hold himself back so dearly from yanking his hand higher, from gathering the damp evidence between your legs—before deciding, just this once, to leave it to faith instead of peering through the looking glass.

His own stoic veneer began to crack once when he learned where you lived, and then again when you agreed to share a cab with him. It felt as if he were asking whether you’d like him to fuck you stupid, and your answer sounded as if you were telling him that you’d like it very much—please, thank you. He watched your lips wrap around the question of when, not if, he wanted to go, and he said the first thing that tore through his throat faster than any other could. Now. Now. Let’s go now.

Immediately, desire followed the glance you gave him, and Viktor hoped pleasure would quickly follow desire. He knew soon enough—when he had you undoing his buttons, pushing your hands to his bare stomach like a greedy little thing. He had to stop you right there with a witty remark, hoping you wouldn’t take note of the sanctimonious edge to his tone.

Now, with you pressed against the elevator door, Viktor still profoundly believes that he is never wrong—except for the one to ten times he refused to meet you under the excuse of being buried under an avalanche of tasks. He is almost glad it’s only happening now, because you will be a massive distraction for his hard-working brain.

A perfect mirror of his desires, where you give everything he wants and take everything he gives. He doesn’t have to worry when his mouth lays waste to the remnants of your red lipstick, because you push yourself against him as if you’d rather exchange it for a tattoo of permanent bruise. He needn’t worry about his hands raking your thighs a bit too roughly, because your tights are already torn. In this moment, when you whine out his name after every tease he throws at you, he worries about absolutely nothing.

With his cane wedged under his armpit, he holds you tight by the ass, rutting into your hips, pretending it’s only to keep you from toppling out with a loud thump once the elevator pings open. A dozen ideas crash through his head the moment it does—from fucking you against the hallway wall (was his leg going to be this gracious today?) to yanking you down onto your knees and fucking your throat instead, smearing the last traces of red from your lips all over his cock, aching and straining in his pants. Holding your hair tight and praising you for each gag.

“Wait,” he tells you firmly when you leech onto his neck while he fumbles with the keys. You obey—not without a pout—but you stop, your arms falling loosely around his stomach. The moment the door cracks open, he sweeps you inside, locks it blindly, and walks you to the nearest soft seating—the bedroom is too far.

Greedy hands tremble as you yank the belt from the loops at his waist. Viktor chuckles, bewildered by your eagerness, but decides it feels nice to be wanted so openly.

His trousers slide down to his thighs as he sinks onto the sofa, guiding your hips to glue onto his. He groans at the lovely pressure of your weight resting against his cock—hard and leaking—and runs a flat palm up your legs, rolling your skirt higher. His fingers find the growing eyelet in your tights, thread through, and pull. The sound of tearing makes you gasp and giggle. It doesn’t stop there—three fingers hook into your underwear, sliding it to the side as he drags them through your folds.

A breathy hum escapes him. “So fucking wet. What a lovely slut you are.”

And you know damn well you are anything but. Sensible in your choices, reason always outshining need—where a sloppy one-night stand never seems worth the next-day headache or the risk of running late for work, which you love and cherish above all else. But from his mouth, it sounds like the highest of praises, sparking a searing greed that courses through your veins and drops between your legs as you grind against his cock, begging for more.

“Say it again.”

“Ask me nicely,” he murmurs with a smirk, moving his fingers into your hair and tugging at the nape, fixing you in place.

“Please, say it again,” you plead, your hands trailing tenderly along his face, catching at his lips before sliding lower to his neck as you tickle behind his ear.

Viktor memorises the shape of your mouth when you say please—yet still, he wishes to see it in the flesh more. He brings your head close, rubs his nose against your cheek, and inhales, eyes fluttering shut.

“My gorgeous little slut. Oh, you look so fucking pretty,” he breathes against your lips before sinking his tongue between them. The connection he feels is instant, almost uncanny. He explores your mouth freely, licking at the roof, nipping at your tender flesh through hums and chuckles when your hips roll over his. A torturous drag along his clothed cock where your dampness seeps into the fabric, mixing into one.

Your fingers drop lower, tugging at the waistband of his briefs. You break the kiss and ask needily, “Do you want to—?” Take these off and give me your cock. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, shaking his head—a promise of something else exciting you stupidly. “Be a good girl and make yourself cum like this first.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Utterly possessed by the sight of him beneath you, you wrap your arms around his neck, bring your face close enough for him to feel the way your brows scrunch in focus, and rut your cunt into his lap. An embarrassing amount of slick leaks from you, drenching his underwear, adding to the delicious friction you’re chasing until your core is swollen, twitching, clenching around nothing—as if you could pull his cock inside by sheer force of will.

Viktor watches, transfixed, eyes wide with admiration, hoping he can hold out until he’s truly buried deep within you. Each time he mutters a lewd remark, you feel an invisible fist closing around the muscles of your lower abdomen, sending a nearly painful pang through you, making your hips jolt and stutter.

“I knew I had to fuck you the minute I saw you,” he murmurs, brushing your damp hair back—his touch light, its kindness contradicting anything that falls from his lips. Your eyes roll in a full circle, each word choking spasms out of your core.

“It’s hard to be in charge all the time, isn’t it?” His voice is smooth, full of temptation, dripping sugar straight into your ears. It’s within reach, a release of all your worries for you to grasp as he holds it out to you on an open palm. Indulgence you realise you need so dearly to stay sane. You feel like you’ve found a missing piece of a puzzle, something that will make you whole by taking something else away.

His fingers slip beneath the torn fabric of your tights, kneading the flesh of your ass as he guides you over his lap, grinding, rolling—each movement pressing your swollen clit against the hard ridge of his cock. You whimper in response, clutching at his neck, nails biting through the skin leaving crescent dents.

“Do you want me to fuck you stupid?” His breath ghosts over your cheek, hot and unrelenting, each word a hook that tugs something deep in your belly.

You nod, frantic, but it’s not enough for him. His grip tightens, forcing you to slow, to drag yourself over him with purpose, until each pulse of pleasure is unbearably sharp.

“Use your words,” he murmurs. “Tell me what you need,” Viktor says with a raw and honest intention. He means every word.

You moan, lips parted, head falling back. “Yes—yes, I want it. Please.”

He groans, full and pleased, drinking in the sight of you becoming undone above him. He loves this—the feeling of being alive and kicking as control seeps from someone to him. His hands squeeze greedily at your flesh, guiding you down harder, and he smiles when you shudder from the pressure.

“It’s alright, you don’t need to worry about anything,” he soothes, voice dipping into something dangerously gentle. “Just cum for me.”

A helpless little cry breaks from you, your movements turning more and more jerky. Each filthy drag against him sets you hot, your body writhing, helpless in his hands.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, voice drenched in satisfaction, watching the pleasure ripple through you, your thighs clenching and tightening around his. When you come—wrecked, panting against his mouth, clinging to his neck—Viktor feels it like a gift. Precious. Just for him, given willingly and gratefully. He keeps it close and doesn’t show to anyone.

It’s nearly enough for him to have you settle and cool down, slumped against his chest, looking an absolute mess—hair still damp, coat ruffled, skirt twisted around your waist, shirt full of creases, tights torn, makeup smeared across your face. A perfect picture to summarize his work.

As you blink, your eyelashes tickle his neck, and Viktor noses into your forehead, urging you to look up at him. “All good?” he asks when you do, his grin is loose, toothless, completely at ease.

Slowly, you blink again and nod, painfully aware of how hard his cock still is beneath you.

“Can you get up?” Viktor murmurs, tucking your hair behind your ear. With another quick nod, you scramble from his lap, and he groans at the loss of contact.

A pleading hand reaches for you, and you take it, helping him up. He sweeps his cane from where it lies abandoned on the floor. A wave of self-consciousness floods you as you glance at him—at both of you—realising that neither of you had undressed, not even slightly. Clothes wrinkled, hair messy. Viktor pulls up his trousers and fastens the buttons, uncaring, just enough to manage a safe walk to the bedroom. He doesn’t comment on how wet his briefs are. Only in his head.

Taking your hand again, he leads you through the apartment in silence. Were you not so utterly fucked-out, you might have tried to steal glances, to memorise every detail of his space, let it tell you things about him he might not say aloud. But the short walk passes in a haze, and you doubt you’d be able to find your way back on your own.

When you reach the bedroom, he motions toward the adjacent bathroom. And when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, your hand flies up to clasp over your mouth.

Dark streaks run down your cheeks—whether from rain or tears, you can’t remember. A stain of pink smudges past the border of your lips, spreading to your cheeks and chin. Your neck is marked with his lips and teeth, blooming in angry colours.

Abruptly, you wash your face as best you can, grabbing a random towel to dry off. A brief concern flits through your mind—that this might be his ass towel—but the thought is quickly followed by another: you don’t care.

You peel off your tights and, for whatever reason, roll them into a ball and shove them into your coat pocket. Only now do you notice the undone button of your shirt, revealing the bridge of your bra.

One deep breath. You shake off your coat, drape it over your arm, and step out from the bathroom, shoes in your other hand.

Viktor is sitting on the bed, waiting. He’s taken his coat off too, and when he looks up at you, you catch sight of the mark you left on his neck. Much less impressive than the ones you’re sporting.

“Come.” He beckons you forward, and you abandon your belongings right where you are, tossing them onto a nearby chair before closing the distance in a few short steps, as if he’s coaxing you by a leash.

Once you’re within reach, he seizes your hips, pulls you close, and breathes against your stomach. “Do you wish to stop or continue?” he asks, hands sliding back to cup your ass.

He already knows the answer, but hearing you say it makes it better. He can see you sinking into the space he wants you in, and the sight grants him a sense of fulfilment—different from the satisfaction of cracking open some nagging problem in the lab with Jayce. Incomparable. Not better or worse, but this—this feels close to best.

He’s certain the alcohol burned off somewhere between the cab ride and you writhing on his lap, but he still feels faintly drunk. Just on something else. And when his eyes meet yours—dazed and dark with want—and your lips mutter a shy, “Please, continue,” he has to supress a dumb smile and possibly a triumphant yes slipping from his mouth.

“Good,” he says instead, unzipping your skirt. It falls to pool around your feet. Next goes your underwear.

You just stand there, letting him undress you, heart hammering in your chest. Your breath hitches as his hands brush over your belly, undoing the remaining buttons of your shirt. Then, he slides his palms flat up your sides, reaching for the back of your bra. With a single twitch of his fingers, it unclasps, and all you have to do is shake everything off to be completely bare.

You stare at him expectantly when he mutters, “Sit,” and pats the space beside him. Thoughtlessly, you obey, eyes never leaving his. “Undress me,” he commands, though the words come out too breathy to be firm.

It’s all so easy. Completely violating your usual paradigm and you wonder if that’s exactly why the momentary exit of this recursion tastes so sweet. It’s heavy on your tongue when you swallow, blink slowly and naturally give yourself into every gentle order. It coats your insides with warmth as you truly feel like there is nothing you need to worry about and whatever Viktor says is the law.

Calmly, you bring your hands to his buttons, undoing them one by one, exposing his chest. His sternum juts out between flat pectorals, the skin dipping above his clavicle. As you slide his shirt off his back, your fingers trace over those hollows, lingering.

Viktor hums in appreciation, then stands, stepping between your legs. His hands settle on your shoulders as you fumble with the buttons of his trousers—then pause, distracted by the bruises marking his lower abdomen.

One is faint, yellow and brown blooming across his pale skin. The other is fresh—an angry smear of red and purple beneath the porcelain layer.

You brush tentative fingers over it, your mouth already forming a question, but Viktor takes your hands and guides them back to his crotch. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

You nod, brows still knitted, before sliding his trousers down along with his underwear, revealing his cock for the first time. Viktor doesn’t say a word—just threads his fingers through your hair, cradling the back of your head, and gently guides you forward. He doesn’t force, doesn’t push. Just holds.

Your cheek presses against him, the warmth of his half-hard length seeping into your skin. He’s hot beneath you, smooth, and when you exhale, the shift of your breath makes him twitch.

You close your eyes and let yourself sink into it, hands coming up to grip his hips. His ribs expand with a slow inhale, fingers stroking lazily at your scalp. Not urging, almost longing. The weight of him against your face makes something in your stomach swell—desire-adjacent, but warmer, gentler. Intimate in a way you hadn’t expected back in the cab.

Viktor purrs, deep and satisfied, as if you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. His head tilts back, eyes slipping shut as he breathes into the ceiling, holding onto you and wondering how he’s found something like this at the world’s fucking end. He might still be drunk after all.

He grows fully hard just from the warmth of your skin. With a long sigh, he tilts your head up so that your chin rests against his stomach. “Lie down for me,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek, eyes molten.

You crawl back onto the mattress on your hands and knees, feeling oddly exposed. This doesn’t feel like just any one-night stand, and a small worry appears—that the mistake you were so willing to make might not be so easy to shake off. Viktor follows, moving more gracefully than you expect, and only now do you notice the brace hugging his knee. He catches the shift in your expression and repeats, “Don’t worry about that one either, hmm?”

Leaning over, he pulls open the bedside drawer and retrieves a condom—a mundane little gesture that has your eyes tracking the movement of his hands. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch as he rolls it on, then shiver when his palms slide from your thighs to your sides. He braces himself against you as his head dips in, settling between your legs. His eyes flick up to yours, a smile curving his lips, before he lets a slow stream of spit drip onto your cunt.

You watch, wide-eyed, until you feel it hitting your skin, slipping snugly into your slit. Your mouth falls open when he drags his fingers through the mess, spreading it over your folds. An occasional fingertip dips inside, shallow and teasing, just enough to make you gasp. Each time it does, your muscles contract, trying to keep him in.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So needy.” It’s meant as a tease, but his voice holds too much wonder.

He leans back, one hand wrapping around the base of his cock, dragging the head through the slick he’s worked into you. The touch has you trembling, thighs twitching when he presses forward just enough to catch at your entrance before pulling away again.

“Do you really want me so much?” His lips curl, tone bordering on mocking, but his thumb strokes your hip as if in apology. You nod, resisting the urge to shift your hips down and take him in yourself. “So desperate… squeezing around nothing.” He tsks, shaking his head.

And then, finally, he pushes inside.

It burns from all the work you’ve done on yourself, grinding against his underwear. He stretches you inch by inch, even though you can feel how much he wants to just slam deep inside—leave you breathless, fill every empty space inside you.

Once hilted, Viktor sighs, deep and shuddering, and strokes your stomach before pressing your torsos together. His forehead rests against yours for just a moment before he shifts, hooking one of your legs over his good hip. He considers how to fuck you—how to test the waters without messing you up too much. So far, everything he’s said has had you writhing for him, mussing his hair and leaving wanting open-mouthed kisses everywhere, which is why he decides to tread a path he’s already mapped out for himself.

“Perfect fit,” he whispers, almost reverent, before drawing back and sinking in again, and it’s so achingly slow. His elbows rest on either side of your head, caging you in, and when your neck arches, his hand comes to cradle your nape. A thumb strokes there, soothing as he rocks into you, eyes locked onto your face, memorizing every reaction.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises, voice thick, his hips rolling deeper. “You don’t need to worry about anything.” Hot breath sears across your throat before his teeth sink in, deepening the colour palette there.

“Only about being a good slut, yes?”

The words make you clench around him, and you grasp his hair, pulling his mouth close to yours, just as he expects. You breathe countless yeses against his lips, the panic of being so close to someone bleeding into the tremendous pleasure of being seen.

The more you squeeze him, the more Viktor groans, pressing closer, his weight pinning you down. He takes his time, thrusting deep and sluggish, grinding his groin against your clit. It’s a sweet torture that builds in your lower belly, spreading through your body in rays, buzzing beneath your skin, curling at the tips of your fingers and toes.

You are convinced your brain has turned to mush when all that leaves your mouth is a blabbering mess. Please and fuck and yes make the occasional appearance, but most of it is just senseless mewling, intermingling with the wet, squelching sounds of his cock pumping into you.

Viktor chuckles—breathless and hoarse. “So far gone already? Is this all it takes?” His words are laced with teasing, but there’s an edge to them, a tremor beneath the mockery. He’s losing himself, too.

His hips roll with a strain, and you jerk beneath him, body seizing, jaw slacking in a soundless cry before you gasp in the air he’s stolen from you.

“Good girl,” he rasps, watching your expression twist between desperation and bliss. His hand at your neck tightens, enough to coax a bruise and enough to keep you where he wants you. His other hand slips between your bodies, fingers seeking out your swollen clit. “Come on, almost there.”

The pressure tips you over the edge, white heat flooding through you in an orgasm so intense it borders on painful. Your back arches, nails raking down his spine, and a strangled moan tears from your throat as you convulse around him, gripping him in a vacuous trap. The squeeze wrenches a ragged noise from Viktor’s throat, and makes his hips stutter.

He had meant to pull out, to spill onto your stomach or your tits in a final act of marking, but the way you tighten around him wrecks that plan entirely. A guttural curse breaks from his lips, and he buries himself to the hilt, spilling into the condom with a shuddering groan.

For a moment, he stays like that—pressed flush against you, panting into your ear, his lips catching your earlobe with each breath. His fingers loosen around neck, sweat-slicked hair plasters to your cheek. He seems as far gone as you are.

Then, slowly, he gathers himself, pressing his lips to your throat—soft kisses, tender. His tongue flicks out, tracing the marks his teeth have left, soothing them with lazy strokes.

“How are you?” he murmurs at last, voice spent.

But you are falling, deep and fast. Lodged into a space you don’t know. The world around you feels distant, sounds muffled like they’re coming through water. Your limbs are heavy, yet weightless all at once. There’s warmth—his body, the sheets, the lingering pulse of pleasure still rolling through you—but it feels separate, like it belongs to someone else.

Breathing feels slow, difficult. You need to put effort in it. You blink sluggishly up at him, trying to gather words, but they slip through your fingers, elusive. Nothing hurts. Nothing feels. There’s a quiet in your mind, vast and still, as if you’re floating untethered.

Viktor watches you closely, his brows knitting together. His fingers trace your cheek, then down your arm, grounding and gentle. “Still with me?” he asks, softer this time, concern weaving through the exhaustion in his voice. “Water? Bathroom?” His offers come one after another, and you nod to each without really knowing what it is you need.

Without knowing if this should be happening at all, you let him help you up, his hands steady at your waist as he guides you toward the bathroom. But the moment you reach the door, panic claws up your throat. You press a hand to his chest, stopping him before he can follow.

When he protests, brows furrowing, you manage to breathe out, “Please,” and he hesitates. There’s reluctance in the way he steps back, but he lets you go. He waits, slumping onto the bed, his chin resting in his palm as his knee bounces. It’s a please he doesn’t like.

Inside, you turn on the tap and brace yourself against the sink, staring into the mirror. Your lips are kissed red, your neck outright bruised, dark blotches blooming against your skin. The sight should make your mouth fall open, but your muscles won’t move.

You wash your face again, use the same towel, caring about its purpose even less than before. You feel nothing and everything at once. It’s terrifying and lonely and you have no idea what to do with it. Instinct—the real, honest one—tells you to run back to him and cuddle into his lap. Rest your cheek on his knee and let him pet you until your lids get heavy. But there is another, learned and unnatural that keeps you here, in the bathroom, calculating and worrying about how needy you are about to come off as.

When you step outside, the vacuum begins to suck you inward, hollowing you out. With the wrong instinct at hands, you reach for your coat and shoes. You need to leave.

Viktor shoots you a questioning look. He stands up, limps toward you, fingers curling gently around your arm beckoning you to pause. “I can’t let you go home now,” he says in a calm voice, as if there is something he knows that you don’t.

“I—” The excuses pile on your tongue, desperate and clumsy. “I should get back. I have… work, and—”

“I’ll wake you,” he says simply. “But you should stay.”

“I… I don’t have any clothes,” you grasp, even as you clutch your coat tighter.

“We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

"Viktor, I—" Your voice wavers as fear grips you, tight and suffocating. “I don’t have time for… I’m so busy, I can barely—” You cut yourself off, frustration spilling into frantic gestures. You can’t even articulate it—this sense that you’ve made a mistake, that none of this should have happened, that you shouldn’t have come to Mel’s party in the first place, because this… this is way too frightening.

Something flickers across Viktor’s face, subtle but unmistakable. Something that sinks, just slightly, despite the euphoria he’d felt only moments ago. It’s swept away with the wave of your hands, and he curses himself for letting you alone into that bathroom.

He forces out a chuckle, but when he speaks your name, it’s firm. “I am not asking you to marry me. I am busy too.”

The words land sharper than he intends. Regardless of everything that has happened tonight, this one little remark you give him is enough to slam his defences back into place. So instead of just asking you to stay, he adjusts, laying out another path. An emergency escape.

“This… doesn’t have to go anywhere,” he says, voice quieter, careful. “But trust me when I tell you, you will be very sad if you go home alone now.” His thumb strokes absentmindedly over your wrist. “Stay. I promise I will wake you. Francis Crick is close to South Bank—”

“Okay.” It slips from your lips before you can stop it, before your mind can twist itself into another reason to leave.

Viktor exhales and nods, taking the coat away from you and hanging it around the chair. Then he takes your hand and leads you to the bed and you feel momentarily guilty that he had to walk this distance without the cane.

He lets you in first and you push yourself all the way to the edge, feeling like you are invading his space in a way that is too much. This sudden neediness, this sensation of dependency—it’s a perfect stranger. Making you fragile in a way that you haven’t felt in the longest time. End even though it carries a warmth with it, it comes unbidden, and you want to deal with it on your own, as you always do.

But Viktor doesn’t let you. He enters your space as if he knows you are too confused to ask. He slides himself clumsily next to you, squeezes his arm under your neck to cradle your head under his chin. Wraps another over your waist and traps you, hooking his leg over your hip. Then hums, knowing, all balmy against your skin and you feel like crying.

The sound of your name, spoken with patience, reaches you through the fog. It drifts through the quiet, settling beside you like a warm weight. He says it again, and again, until you shift and finally look at him. Your noses brush as he tilts his head, voice soft.

“You can tell me how you feel, you know that?”

“I don’t,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “I barely know anything about you.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Viktor exhales a quiet chuckle, his fingers coming to brush at your temple. “Well,” he muses, “my name is Viktor.” His knuckles trace lightly down the side of your face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m a scientist. Jayce’s friend and colleague.” His lips quirk, his voice low and steady. “I like documentaries and books.”

The way he speaks has your eyes rolling dismissively, but deep down you know what he’s doing. Each piece of himself he offers, no matter how obvious, grounds you back into reality.

“And I know exactly what is happening to you,” he murmurs. “And it’s alright. It’s supposed to happen.”

You swallow. “How do you know that?”

Viktor yawns, entirely unfitting to the scene, but he can’t help it. Lazily, as if it’s a fact known to all humanity, he offers you the biggest piece so far. “Because I’m feeling the exact opposite.”

You consider for a moment and furrow your brows. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Nothing.” His fingers slip into your hair, absentmindedly playing with the strands. “Just feel it. It’s… nice. You are safe.” His voice drops lower, like a secret meant only for you. “It’s nice to be empty of everything for a bit.”

Your breath shakes as a question propelled by a child-like logic follows. “Does this mean you feel full?”

“Eh, something like that.” There’s a pause. Viktor’s fingers continue their slow movements in your hair, a soothing touch. Then, his voice lifts again, gentler still. “Does anything hurt?” You shake your head.

“Anything you didn’t like?” He hesitates, then curses himself for asking. He tells himself it’s ego-driven, or maybe just his scientific mind searching for data, for some answer he shouldn’t be seeking in the first place. This was meant to be a single night, wasn’t it? Again, you shake your head.

Encouraged—by what, he’s not sure, his brain or his heart—Viktor presses on. His thumb skims the edge of your jaw. “Did it feel… right?” The question so timid, yet falls with a loud thump, pulled by gravity equal to that inside a black hole, because he has no idea what he’s tempering with.

Yes, you imagine yourself saying without hesitation. Yes, your body screams as you nuzzle into him, making yourself small, trying to crawl into his chest. Yes, say your arms wrapping around his waist and your feet pressing to his calves. “Yes,” you whisper shyly into his neck and it’s enough. Nothing follows, only Viktor’s pulse, loud and heavy in your ear. Sleep takes you with a few long exhales and you can make out his arm leaving you once to reach to his bed stand, setting the alarm. Then nothing, as you float, tethered.

[bagdaddyb]

Streamer Life

Pairing: Emo!Streamer Wanda x Fem!Reader

Summary: Just a little fluffy tid bit.

Wanda took a hand off the keyboard and ran it through her hair as she spoke to her chat.

"I don't think this armour works for my build chat, it has crit but I'm giving up aoe and leech and my build is based around those."

She picked up her coffee taking a sip as she continued to inspect the armour and her chat.

"Yea I could move around my jewels but I like what I'm running now I'm tanky with good dps."

You walk in the room from Wanda's right with a plate of food, the new season of her game dropped and so far she'd been gaming for six straight hours. You were out of frame of her camera but also just out of her line of sight. You set the food down on Wanda's desk once you approach which catches Wanda's attention, turning her gaze to you she smiles softly. Her rare shows of pure emotion reserved for you alone. She hits the button to mute her mic and turns towards you.

"Hi baby."

She says sweetly and you hum back returning her smile.

"Hi, you haven't eaten all day I brought you some food. How's it going?"

You ask running your fingers through her hair. The action visible on stream.

"Good, I'm grinding new gear trying to solidify the build I made, I might have to respec though when it comes to ubers."

You hum and nod once more, gamer lingo was slightly foreign to you but you enjoyed listening to Wanda's passion for the game.

"Have you been drinking water love? Not just coffee I hope."

Wanda goes silent causing you to give her a look.

"I'll refill my water jug right after this."

You hum again not impressed and Wanda smirks at you.

"Thank you for the food baby."

"Always."

You reply running your fingers through her hair once more. Wands takes a moment to glance at her chat, the comments blowing up with 'hi mom'. Wanda chuckles and looks back to you.

"Chat is saying hi, do you want to greet them?"

You nod and Wanda unmutes. Wanda addresses her chat showing off the food you brought her and speaking on how you're the best girlfriend anyone could ask for. You pick up a little bit around her desk before stepping around and into frame. You wave silently at chat and they explode. You ignore it running your fingers through Wanda's hair once more.

"Alright I'm going, I love you bub."

You say before kissing her head and walking away.

"I love you too."

Wanda says lightly before turning back to her game and chat. The chat is blowing up 'they're so cute' 'where can I get a girlfriend like that' 'goals' 'omg clipped it'.

"Chill chat chill."

Wanda chuckles out.

"Be right back the misses wants me to refill my water jug then we're back to the grind."

Wanda walks away smiling, entering the living room she comes over to bend and give you a few kisses.

"What would I do without you?"

"Starve or dehydrate which ever came first."

Wanda just laughs at your response, kissing you once more.

[curiousquill1]

How Mutual Fund Portfolio Analysis Helps Optimize Your Tax-Saving SIP Plans

Mutual fund portfolio analysis is more than only a buzzword—it’s an effective device for investors trying to align their money with smart, tax-saving techniques. Especially for those engaged in tax-saving SIP plans, knowledge of the portfolio's shape, fund overall performance, and alignment with long-term monetary desires could make a huge difference. It’s not just about returns—though Systematic Investment Plan returns are important—but about maximizing every rupee's efficiency.

Understanding the Basics of Tax Saving Through SIPs

Tax-saving SIP plans, in particular the ones making an investment in ELSS (Equity Linked Savings Scheme) funds, provide a twin advantage—potential wealth creation and tax deductions beneath Section 80C. But choosing any SIP without a deeper analysis can lead to missed opportunities. That’s where Mutual Fund Portfolio Analysis enters the picture.

When done right, this analysis doesn’t just focus on past performance; it looks at fund allocation, sector exposure, risk levels, and consistency—helping investors choose SIPs that deliver better Systematic Investment Plan Returns while keeping tax efficiency in mind.

Why Blind Investing Doesn’t Work

Jumping into SIPs just because they offer tax benefits may result in short-term relief but long-term regret. Many plans underperform due to poor fund manager decisions or mismatched risk profiles. By using Mutual Fund Portfolio Analysis, investors gain clarity on whether their chosen fund is a true fit for both tax-saving and wealth-building goals.

Aligning SIPs with Long-Term Financial Objectives

Tax planning should never come at the cost of financial growth. SIPs should not only reduce tax outgo but also work in sync with major milestones like buying a house, retirement, or children’s education. A detailed portfolio analysis can filter out inconsistent funds and highlight those with strong historical Systematic Investment Plan returns and steady performance.

Key Metrics to Review in Portfolio Analysis

Fund Manager Track Record

Consistency in Returns (3-year, 5-year CAGR)

Expense Ratios

Top Holdings and Sector Exposure

Risk vs. Reward Ratios

These indicators give insight into whether a fund fits within a larger financial and tax strategy.

How Risk Profiling Impacts Your SIP Choices

Risk appetite varies by individual, and so should fund selection. Mutual Fund Portfolio Analysis helps categorize SIP options based on risk tolerance. Tax-saving SIPs aren’t one-size-fits-all. Some funds are equity-heavy, while others may have a more conservative tilt. Picking the right one could mean higher Systematic Investment Plan returns without stepping out of your comfort zone.

Diversification Without Overlap

It’s tempting to start multiple SIPs across different tax-saving funds, but without analysis, this can lead to overlap—investing in the same companies through multiple funds. Smart portfolio analysis spots duplication and ensures true diversification, giving your investments broader exposure and improved return potential.

Reviewing and Rebalancing Regularly

Tax-saving investments shouldn't be a "set and forget" affair. Annual review using portfolio analysis ensures the SIPs are still aligned with current goals and market realities. Rebalancing helps shift funds away from underperformers and into better-performing opportunities.

Avoiding Common Mistakes in Tax-Saving SIPs

Investing without checking fund overlap

Ignoring long-term consistency of returns

Picking funds only based on current top rankings

Not reviewing SIP performance annually

Each of these missteps can reduce the effectiveness of even the most well-intentioned tax-saving strategy.

When to Seek Professional Advice

If understanding financial ratios, beta, or sectoral allocation feels overwhelming, professional help is worth considering. Many certified financial planners offer mutual fund portfolio analysis as part of their advisory. This adds an expert layer to your tax-saving strategy, ensuring you’re making well-informed choices.

Using Tools and Platforms for Portfolio Analysis

Several fintech platforms now offer user-friendly tools for investors to assess their portfolios. These tools give breakdowns of fund exposure, performance comparison charts, and personalized suggestions for optimizing Systematic Investment Plan returns.

SIP Returns and Tax Efficiency: A Delicate Balance

The highest-return fund isn’t always the best choice for tax-saving SIPs. Sometimes, slightly lower Systematic Investment Plan returns in a more consistent and tax-efficient fund can offer better real gains. Analysis helps find this balance—focusing on post-tax outcomes instead of raw returns alone.

Real-Life Scenario: How Analysis Changes Outcomes

Consider two investors: one chooses a top-rated ELSS fund based on a friend’s advice, while the other uses detailed Mutual Fund Portfolio Analysis to select a consistent performer aligned with their goals. After 5 years, the second investor not only saves more tax but also sees smoother Systematic Investment Plan returns, while the first experiences volatility and underwhelming results.

Final Thoughts: Plan with Insight, Not Guesswork

Tax saving is a long-term game, and SIPs are a fantastic tool to play it. But without Mutual Fund Portfolio Analysis, it’s like navigating a maze blindfolded. Every rupee saved in tax and gained in return counts. Taking the time to analyze can turn a good SIP into a great investment journey.

FAQs

1. What is the best way to do mutual fund portfolio analysis? Use online tools or consult financial experts to review fund performance, expense ratios, holdings, and risk exposure.

2. How often should SIPs be reviewed for tax savings? At least once a year. Rebalancing ensures the funds are still aligned with your goals and tax needs.

3. Can I switch ELSS funds mid-way through a SIP? Yes, but be mindful of the 3-year lock-in. Each SIP installment has its own lock-in cycle.

4. Is a higher return always better for tax-saving SIPs? Not necessarily. Consistency and tax efficiency often yield better long-term outcomes.

5. Do all SIPs qualify for tax benefits? Only SIPs in ELSS mutual funds qualify under Section 80C of the Income Tax Act.

[kamiversee]

── SEX FOR BUSINESS ──

CHAPTER FOUR: For Tolerance

{ Synopsis } — A tale in which you refuse to align sex with anything more than an act committed for the benefit of status gain. You’re a whore by choice and it works… until it doesn’t?

{ Chapter Content } — language, drinking, flirting, sexual tension, & a very patient Kusakabe.

{ Pairings } — jjk (office) men x f!reader, gojo x f!reader, nanami x f!reader, higuruma x f!reader, shiu x f!reader, kusakabe x f!reader, & ino x f!reader.

{ Word Count } — 5.2k

[ m!list ]

——SPOILER ALERT, YOU DO END UP doing something with your assistant that night. Though, if anyone asks you, it was completely an accident! You didn’t mean to end the night with his head in between your thighs and his tongue working your cunt like a man starved but… when he offered to ‘help’ you, you just couldn’t resist.

Who would resist a man like Kusakabe when he’s so fucking attentive. He hangs off of your every word even more when the two of you are outside of the office. And (un)fortunately for him, you are quite the talker with a bit of alcohol in your system.

It’s almost humorous, really. The way you tell him things without him even asking as the two of you sit at a bar together later that night after work. Not even twenty minutes passed after the two of you began drinking and you were already singing like a canary, spilling out all sorts of details concerning your sex-life troubles.

It’s kind of embarrassing to look back on but in the moment you truly couldn’t hold yourself back. The moment he said, “So, you gonna tell me what was bothering you today or did you come all the way out here in hopes I’d forget about it?” You knew you were fucked.

You didn’t even hesitate, a small knowing smile had spread across your liquor-slicked lips right as you took another sip of your perfectly crafted drink and began your rambling. “I haven’t had sex.” You’d told him bluntly.

The words spilled out of your mouth faster than the alcohol had even settled into your system. You don’t even know if that drink had affected you yet—with the way the truth came out, it honestly seemed like you’d been dying to tell him that.

Kusakabe couldn’t help but clear his throat, huffing out a laugh to hide his surprise at your bluntness. “You-, you haven't had sex?” He snickered a bit, moving his hand to wipe the smile off his face before resting his cheek against his knuckles as he looked at you. “That’s your ‘physical personal issue’? Seriously??”

“Yes,” You replied with a shrug of your shoulders. “Why do you sound so confused? Going months without getting laid is a serious hindrance, y’know.”

He snorts, “For who, you?”

You roll your eyes at his way of teasing you for it but you can tell he’s genuinely intrigued by this whole thing. For one, based on the shock on his face, it was clear he wasn’t expecting someone like you to have issues with… well, this. From his perspective, you seem like the kinda woman who always gets what she wants, when she wants, and how she wants it. To which he’s not wrong to assume about you.

It is true. You do get what you want, when and how you want it. At least, you used to until you got into this company and found yourself at some sort of sexual blockage. It’s like when artists experience art block or when authors experience writer’s block—you have the tools to get what you want but, some almost invisible force is preventing you from obtaining it.

With every goal you have concerning one of those stupidly handsome men at that office, there’s something or someone standing in your way. And it doesn’t make things impossible for you or anything, just difficult.

Once Kusakabe gets a hold of his chuckling, you hear the way his laughter airily fades out before his eyes become more sincere with you. “Okay, so… Permission to speak casually, miss?” He asks.

You’re busy swallowing another swig of your drink in hopes of washing away your frustrations before you shrug again. “I just told you I haven’t had sex, obviously you’re allowed to speak casually with me, Kusakabe.”

He shrugs right back at you and his lips curve into this relaxed little smirk, “I was just asking to make sure.” His eyes just barely watch the way you’re going through glass after glass at a slightly alarming rate, wondering at what point he should get you to slow down. “So, how long’s it been?” He asks.

You tip your head back a bit as you let your most recent gulp simper against your throat, humming slightly at the feeling of that first buzz radiating throughout your body. “Uhhh, like… four-, no, maybe five months?” You tell him.

Kusakabe simply nods his head and takes in your words for a moment. Then he scoffs faintly, “Damn. M’guessing it’s getting unbearable now or something?”

“You have no idea,” You sigh. Based on the slur in your voice, he should’ve known to stop you from talking here. “My fingers aren’t cutting it anymore,” He watches as you push away your now empty glass, your third glass might he add, and then slump your head down onto the cool bar. “And the toys I have are fine but, it’s not the same.” You blurt out further.

Your assistant merely bats his lashes at you a couple of times before letting out another sigh. He lifts his head up from his knuckles and carefully moves both of his hands over to your head, forcing you to pick your head up, “Okay, first off, don’t lay on that—it’s dirty. And secondly,” Once you’ve got your head just barely held up, he slides out of his stool to stand. “You’re drunk.”

Pulling away from his hands in protest, you shake your head at him, “No m’not.” You mumble, trying to straighten yourself up in your seat to act like you don’t feel that numbing sensation thrumming through your veins right now. Then you extend your hands out and lightly push him away.

His feet barely move back against the floor and he snickers at the way you’re acting right now. Kusakabe throws his hands up defeatedly for a moment before burying them into his pockets and letting you do your thing. “Did you hear what you just said to me?” He asks.

It’s slow but, you manage a nod. “Uhuh, I told you I haven’t had sex in months, and that masturbating isn’t cutting it anymore.” You repeat. Part of you wishes you were simply tipsy at that moment so you could see the look on his face as your words hit his reddened ears again.

Pushing yourself out of your stool, you knew where this was going and you knew he was going to be that tendering assistant you know him to be and escort you home now. It’d be bad for you to sit here saying the things you're saying out loud like that. You represent a decently known company and the last thing he wants is for the wrong person to overhear your drunken rambles.

Unfortunately for him, the moment you stand up, you stumble forward and get closer to him. His hands instinctively move to your arms to brace you but with the way you lift your head and look him dead in the eyes, he could already feel the sweat building up on the back of his neck.

Then came your words, so shameless and unfiltered whilst you stare directly at him, “I need dick.” You drunkenly tell him.

Kusakabe can’t tell if he should laugh or scold you for this. What’s left of his sober mind is telling him to slap a hand over your mouth to stop you from saying anything else like that. Yet, what’s shouting from his tipsy brain is that if he touches you any more than he already is, he’ll just be torturing himself.

Just the thought of clasping a palm over those lips of yours makes him feel dirty. He blames that on what you just said. Maybe if you hadn’t told him about your issue, he wouldn’t be feeling or thinking the way he is. Hell, even with his hands on your arms, he already feels like he’s doing something inappropriate.

Steadily, he lets his eyes fall shut before taking a deep breath to gather himself. With a careful squeeze to your arms, he opens his eyes and leans closer to you just so he can speak softly, “I’m gonna get you home now, okay?”

You blink, almost as if there wasn’t a single innocent thought in your head anymore, and then tip your head to the side, “And then what?” You whisper back to him.

Kusakabe finally lets out a laugh and then respectfully starts to move your arms. He tosses one of them up around his neck and then places a hand on your waist, pulling your body close to his side so that he can walk side by side with you and ensure you don’t stumble all over the place—especially considering the heels you have on right now.

“And then I’m gonna get myself home,” He tells you.

You don’t even get the chance to say anything else before he starts walking with you.

Because you drank more than you initially intended to, there are quite a few details you don’t exactly remember. Like you don’t remember who the hell paid for all those drinks, nor if Kusakabe drove the two of you to your place or if he ordered an Uber, nor do you remember what other sultry little comments left your lips during the ride home.

And while you don’t remember, Kusakabe was sober enough to handle and recall every little detail. For starters, he obviously paid since he’s the one who invited you out. Then he called for an Uber and rode with you all the way to your apartment complex and he ignored every drunken whisper along the lines of ‘I wanna be fucked’ or ‘you said you’d help me, right?’ since he knew where a reply to any of those would get him.

The last thing he wanted was to entertain any of your intoxicated whims. So, he was pretty much silent during the ride to your place.

Now… he was going to let you walk yourself up to your apartment but after watching you wobble about five steps away from the car, he dismissed the driver and hurried out of the vehicle to help you.

·  ·  ──────── ·𖥸· ────────  ·  ·

Which is how he ended up all the way upstairs with you.

You were on his arm again and it took you like five minutes to find the right key to your door, the entirety of which Kusakabe prayed no one would walk by and get the wrong idea because all he wanted to do was watch you get in safe. 

Then he was gonna call another Uber and head home. That was the plan. Nice and simple.

But, of course, dealing with a drunk you is something he could have never prepared for. 

As soon as you unlock your door—which he had to guide your hand through because you were too busy mumbling god knows what and missing the keyhole over and over—he let you walk inside and he was about to pull your door shut for you but you turned around and grabbed him by the tie before tugging him right inside.

Just his luck, really. After pulling him in, you shut your door behind him and locked it with a simple utterance of, “Stay.”

He doesn’t know why he listened to you or what the hell was wrong with him but, at that moment he didn’t move a muscle. The only thing in motion were his eyes as he watched you back away from him and walk around your dark apartment. 

It took you a moment to flick some lights on and it wasn’t until he saw you kicking your shoes off in the middle of your walkway that he let out a long sigh. At least you weren’t all over him or doing anything out of pocket. Then you walked over to your living room and that’s when he finally willed himself to move away from your front door.

Your apartment was pretty big but, he’d been over enough times to remember the layout well enough. Which is why when you rounded the corner into your living room instead of heading in the direction of your bedroom, he was naturally concerned.

Once he made his way around that short corner, he spots you laid out against your couch in the most uncomfortable-looking position imaginable. With the way you were laying, you were bound to have all sorts of body aches the next morning if he left you like that—not to mention the layers of work clothes you still had on.

Kusakabe nearly curses himself for caring so much. Yet, the fact that you commend him for any, if not all, small acts of kindness he does for you is one thing that keeps him motivated to move and carry himself on over to you. 

He finds himself standing in front of your couch now, tilting his head as he looks down at the way you’ve got your head angled. The way you were laying genuinely looked like it hurt already. Yet there you were with your eyes closed and your body idle.

“Ma’am,” He calls out slowly. “You can’t sleep like that, c’mon, get up.”

You barely move your hand to dismiss him, “Leave me…”

His shoulders sink a bit and he tries not to laugh at you again, “You’re gonna wake up upset if I leave you like this.”

“Why?” You mumble into the couch cushions.

Kusakabe crouches down, “‘Cause you’re laying in the most ridiculous position I’ve ever seen.” Then he extends his arm out a bit and lightly taps you on your shoulder, “At least fix yourself.”

With a groan, you shuffle against the couch to turn your body around to face him, properly bringing the rest of your leg onto the couch and bundling yourself up slightly. Your eyelids peel open and you notice he’s now eye level with you, keeping his head tilted so that he can look at your face properly. 

“Happy now?” You ask sarcastically.

“Almost,” He replies, “Jus’ need you to get up now.”

You roll your eyes, “Ugh, why? I’m laying down properly, what more do you want from me?”

Kusakabe cracks a grin before straightening the way he’s holding his head, “You can’t sleep in those clothes.”

“...Oh,” You instantly frown at him. Then, it’s steady but you manage to draw a smirk onto your face as you move against the couch to lay on your back, “So, you wanna see me naked then?”

He snorts, “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what I heard.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Only a lil’ bit.”

“Sure, beautiful,” Kusakabe says all too casually. 

Before you could even work up some sort of reply to him, he was already placing his hands on his knees and pushing himself to stand up straight, “Alright, get up so I can help you to your room.”

Scoffing at him, you shut your eyes again, “No.”

“You’re really gonna make me do this, huh?” You hear him say.

“Do what—hey,” You’re cut off by two surprisingly strong arms scooping your body up from the couch as if you didn’t weigh a thing.

Then your eyes fly open and you’re met with your assistant’s face much closer to yours. He’s holding you in a princess carry and doesn’t even bother to look at you as he starts walking.

You keep your arms folded beneath your chest the entire time he carries you, considering the fact that you were quite comfortable where you were until he decided to move you all rudely. His hands hold you tight and you don’t think for even a moment that falling from his arms is a possibility.

Kusakabe carries you out of your living room and off to your bedroom without one word, lightly tossing you down onto your mattress in what felt like the blink of an eye. You land with a little huff and he remains silent as he turns for your nearby drawers.

“Which one do you keep your night clothes in?” He asks eventually.

He’s got his back to you now so he misses the way you sit up and swing your legs off the bed, kicking your feet back and forth in thought for a moment. Your lack of a response makes him look back over his shoulder and when he notices you stuck in your head, he rolls his eyes and starts opening drawers.

As he does so, he’s muttering all sorts of things to himself—wondering why the hell he cares this much. You were in your room safely; that was his main goal, so does he really need you to change? Hell, he can only imagine how much of a hassle you’re going to give him trying to get you professionally out of your clothes and into something more comfortable.

The sound of something soft hitting the floor suddenly makes him turn back to you again but this time his breath gets caught in his throat and he immediately averts his eyes and shoots up to his feet.

He’d been met with the sight of your back profile, shirt and bra completely discarded to the floor, and hands moving to work your pants off next so, he doesn’t think he could’ve turned his head away from you any faster.

Kusakabe can feel his heart picking up and he almost doesn’t want to say anything. But, he knows he can’t stay here after that so, “I’m gonna leave now, miss. I’ll see you tomorrow morn—”

“No,” You decline.

All he can do at this point is look up to your ceiling because what the hell is he supposed to do with a no? What more could you possibly want from him?

“Goodnight,” He says anyway, despite the stiffness preventing him from moving.

It’s quiet for only a second longer before he hears the sound of your feet shuffling against the floor. It sounded like you walked away so, he carefully glances back again. This time you’re nowhere in sight and your bathroom door is open with the light on. Following this is the sound of water running, assumably from the sink.

Kusakabe lifts a brow and opens his mouth to call out for you but you exit the bathroom faster than he expects you to. Luckily for him, you’re not completely naked like he feared you’d be but you are clad in some expensive-looking white bathrobe.

At this point, he doesn’t know what to say to you. He’s left simply watching you while feeling both confused and curious at the same time.

You walk over to your pile of clothes and kick it over into a vacant corner, nearly tripping over your own feet as you step away from it. Then you spare him a glance and let out a disappointed little sigh, “Fine then, goodnight, ‘Kabe.”

Your assistant narrows his eyes at you, wondering where the hell that nickname came from before he awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck. He’s still unsure of what to say so he keeps quiet as he turns to exit your bedroom.

He barely makes it five steps out the room before you leave right after him and the only reason he doesn’t actually leave your apartment this time is because he catches you heading over to the kitchen in the corner of his eyes and something tells him he shouldn’t leave you just yet.

So, he doesn’t.

Instead, he turns on his heels and paces over to follow you into your kitchen. He walks in at the perfect time because he catches you at the opposing end of your island with a glass placed on the counter and a bottle of wine in your hand.

“Oh my God,” He groans as he walks right on over to you. The bottle is snatched out of your hand faster than you have time to react and you end up standing there with your fingers still curled into the same position as if the item never left your grasp. “Are you doing this on purpose?” He scoffs.

You might still be intoxicated but you swear he sounds annoyed by you now. “Doing… what on purpose?” You ask slowly.

Kusakabe hides that bottle of wine somewhere out of sight before turning back to you, unintentionally coming almost face to face with you as he leans down a bit, “Pissing me off. You act like a child when you’re drunk.”

Standing there, all you manage is a slow blink of your eyes and he thinks he’s about to lose it. “...I’m bothering you?” Your voice is soft now and within the span of seconds, Kusakabe finds himself conflicted.

On one hand, he’s annoyed by the way he can’t turn his back away from you for ten seconds without you doing something stupid, and on the other hand, you keep giving him this look that makes strong waves of heat creep up to his face. 

“You could’ve left, y’know,” You add on.

He deadpans. “And leave you here to get yourself wasted? Over what again-, oh, that’s right. No sex.” Kusakabe makes his voice a bit higher just to mock your earlier confession to him.

You’re not exactly fond of him doing so, “If you’re jus’ gonna make fun of me for it then I regret telling you anything.”

You don’t know how he does it but, he has a surprising amount of patience with you. Hence why he allows himself to grin at you and soften his tone, “I’m not making fun of you.”

“You mocked me.”

“I did, but I-,” He cuts himself off with a sigh—probably the millionth one of the night, “Okay, listen. You’re gonna go back to your bed and go to sleep and I’m gonna leave. It’s late.” He says simply.

You shrug, “I’m not tired.”

Silence befalls the two of you again and this time he takes a deep breath, working up that patience of his again before exhaling his next words, “...Of course you’re not.” Your assistant straightens himself up and then shoves his hands into his pockets, “Alright so, what do you want me to do then? Huh? ‘Cause I clearly can’t leave you alone in the state you’re in.”

Without even thinking, words come spilling out your mouth, “Stay with me until I sober up.” You suggest.

That’s… actually not a terrible idea, he tells himself. He’s dealt with you so far and the worst that’s happened is you stripping while he was in your room but, seeing as you’re already in something comfortable, that shouldn’t happen again. And aside from that the only thing he has to tolerate is that mouth of yours.

You said some absurd things during the car ride home that he can’t quite forget but he’s doing his best to push that memory back. Plus, he doesn’t know if he just imagined some of the things you said in that vehicle because surely as his boss you didn’t blatantly ask him to fuck you at one point. 

…Right?

All things considered, Kusakabe doesn’t take too long to answer you with a casual hum of, “Okay.”

Your eyes practically light up, “Wait, really–”

He moves away from you before you do something silly like try hugging him, and turns toward your fridge. You’re surprised he agreed so easily considering how difficult you’d been—even drunk, you were aware of how much of a handful you could be.

Kusakabe grabs a bottle of water from your fridge and returns to you shortly before pouring some into that glass of yours from earlier. Then he holds said glass out to you, “Drink.”

You stare at the glass in his hand for a moment, your gaze lingering along his smooth skin and your mind wandering back to how those same hands felt on your arms and your legs all throughout the night. From the bar when he’d stopped you from fumbling into him to the way out of the establishment as he held your waist, to his hands hovering over yours and guiding your fingers to the keyhole earlier, and then to when he’d picked you up not too long ago.

Now that you think about it, for someone who’s rather lazy, he does a lot for you.

A pair of fingers snap and you blink out of your thoughts as he thrusts the cup toward you again, “Take it, c’mon.”

You don’t even lift your hands yet, just your eyes as you look up at his face. You’re too intoxicated to read his expression properly but he doesn’t look irritated by you anymore, just a bit tired. He’s even got light bags under his eyes and fuck his skin is so clear, you’re almost jealous. Then there’s those deep brown tufts of hair atop his head—you wonder what it’d feel like to run your fingers through-

The sound of your name-, not miss or ma’am but your name spills past his lips and you don’t know if you’re just drunk but you swear he’s closer to you. Then a finger meets your chin and your head is tipped up, the cool rim of the glass meeting your lips gently as your assistant lets his impatience get the better of him.

“Mh,” You hum in surprise as he begins to tip the cup. Water meets your top lip just barely before you open your mouth and take small sips, your lashes batting a bit before you meet his eyes.

Kusakabe looks almost too focused as he makes you drink water. The touch on your chin is gentle but his grip on the glass is tight and you can tell he focusing solely on your mouth. After only a few seconds, you try to pull back a bit in protest—not because you need a break to breathe—but simply because you want to be defiant, and he shifts his palm to then grab a hold of your jaw.

You feel him lightly tug you back to him and his voice is low. “Please just drink for me,” He requests all softly, watching the way you relax your mouth and cooperate with him a bit more. “There you go,” He unintentionally praises, “Can you finish it?”

You give him a slight nod of your head and drink in larger gulps as he continues holding the glass up for you and tipping it as you go. 

When you’re done, he pries the cup from your mouth and his thumb moves on instinct to swipe right under your lower lip. You feel the thin of his nail graze you as he does so and you unconsciously lean into his touch a bit more. The whole thing was a lot more sensual than it should’ve been but, neither of you seems too concerned with that in the moment.

You’d kept your gaze on his face the entire time he stared at your lips and both of you seemed a little too caught up. Kusakabe couldn’t help but admire that thin layer of saliva resting on your lip, wondering distantly how it would taste-, how you would taste. You’d probably let him kiss you right now based on the flush in your cheeks and the way you’re looking at him.

God, the moment he meets your eyes he can feel his heart growing heavier in his chest. It was in that particular moment that Kusakabe swore to himself he’d never let you get drunk around him again because he’s definitely not imagining the way you’re looking at him like you wanna fuck him right now.

Not to mention the way you’ve been looking at him like that all night too. It’s like he can read every thought swirling through that pretty head of yours. Sure, you were drunk but, even so, it was obvious you wanted him bad.

It’s with that realization that he retracts his touch from you and pulls away. 

With hopes you’ll sober up sooner rather than later, Kusakabe clears his throat a bit while he goes to place the empty glass in your sink and then exits the kitchen. As expected, you come following behind him shortly after and you trail him around your apartment.

He makes his way back into your room and heads straight to your bathroom, shutting off the water you’d left running from earlier and then flicking the light off. You watch him walk over to your small pile of discarded clothes and he picks them up to drop them off into their proper hamper of dirty clothes. He knows you’re following him and watching him but, he doesn’t say a word.

After that he leaves your room and shuts the light off in there too, making his way toward the living room again.

Once he’s in there, he plops himself down on the couch and motions for you to come sit down as well. You don’t protest or argue, having lost your defiant energy since the whole water thing. You can’t even think straight if you’re being honest, and this time it’s not because of the alcohol in your system.

It’s actually him. The way he was looking at your mouth a few minutes ago, rubbing his thumb under your lip with this hungry expression plastered all over his face. How could you be expected to keep your thoughts in check? And that praise, the way he spoke so softly and held your jaw—fuck, your thoughts are becoming more and more lewd by the minute.

You’ve managed to sit down not too far from him and now you’re staring blankly at the TV as he scrolls through channels in search of something to put on. 

From this point on, the tension that lay between the two of you was strong. You know he felt it but you also knew that as long as you weren’t in your right mind, he’d never make any sort of move on you. 

Hell, even the distance between the two of you on the couch was respectable enough for him to be able to breathe without feeling like he was too close to you. For the first five minutes of sitting there, you can admit you were a bit annoyed that he was so far from you but that doesn’t remain that way for the rest of the night.

After all, he does end up in between your legs…

How you get to that point from here is almost intimate but, it definitely wasn’t on purpose. If either of you are being completely honest, once he’d found something to put on the TV and the two of you sat in silence for quite a bit as you watched whatever media was playing… you should’ve known you’d both fall asleep.

And that’s remotely how everything changed. Despite all your drunk actions and words, nothing could have been more bold than the sleeping version of you who later wakes up with herself positioned right on top of her assistant.

The cherry on the top? He was holding you nice and close—arms around you as you lay your head against his chest and your legs intertwined with one another. 

It was probably the most cliche probability the two of you could have ended up in. Now the remainder of the night depended entirely on which one of you would wake up first and how you’d go about handling the position you’re in.

Spoiler alert number two; Kusakabe’s the first to wake up. Well, more specifically, his body is.

m!list | last chapter | next chapter

[cooneyscross]

Leah williamson pleaseeee🙏🙏🙏

Enchanted - Leah Williamson

Leah Williamson x singer!reader

summary - You write a song about England's captain after meeting her briefly at an event not expecting her to share your feelings

Last night had gone by in a blur, you hardly remembered anything that happened. Everything except the short conversation you had shared with a certain blonde. You had accidentally bumped into whilst walking around causing her to spill her drink.

After the first glance, you were captivated by her. She was literally the girl you spent your spare time dreaming about after your last relationships had failed drastically. For the last 24 hours she was all you could think about your thoughts consumed by the short conversation you had shared.

Lights, camera, smile. You were walking around the large area, sipping from your third glass of champagne already and you weren't even half way through the event. You were exhausted from your recent concerts at Wembley, you would've much preferred to be at your apartment watching movies and eating junk. But instead you were being forced to smile for too many cameras.

You were contemplating pulling a sickie and getting an uber home but your mindset switched when you felt yourself collide with another body. 'Shit, I'm sorry.' You look up at the girl in front of you who's previously full glass was now all over the ground and their shoes. You were lost for words, she was hands down the most gorgeous girl you had ever laid eyes on. 'I can get you a new pair, if you'd like.' You offer but your voice is hardly a whisper, your hearts heavy beats probably more audible as nerves take over.

'It's fine, I'll probably never wear them again.' She laughs, the blondes laugh is the greatest laugh you've ever heard, you make it your goal for the night to hear it again. 'Have we met before?' She asks, a quizzical look meeting your gaze.

'I think I'd remember meeting someone as pretty as you.' You blurt out, eyes widening and hand slapping over your mouth once you realise what you just said.

She chuckled at your flustering. 'You think I'm pretty?' She teased a small smirk painting her face.

'No! Yes! I mean, please just forget I said anything.' you say shyly looking down at your feet as you went bright red. The cute blonde let out a laugh. Little did she know how cute you really thought she was.

'I'm Leah by the way.' The unfamiliar girl introduced holding her had for you to shake.

'I'm Y/N L/N.' You say back shaking the girls hand watching as her jaw drops.

'No way am I shaking the Y/N L/N's hand.' She said her voice a pitch higher from excitement. 'I feel like the worst person on earth for not recognising you sooner.' you laughed lightly before you were taken out of the moment by another voice calling Leah's name.

'Leah, I've been looking everywhere for you, let's go you have training early tomorrow.' He says drawing Leah's attention away from the you, you looked to the new man who hadn't even acknowledged your presence, but that didn't matter all that mattered was that Leah was leaving and you had no clue how you were going to find her again.

Leah began following the new man but turned around to face you again. 'It was enchanting to meet you, y/n.' Leah smiled before walking off. Yes it was very enchanting.

Her last words she spoke to you had left you in shock, almost as much shock as when you realized that Leah was in fact the Leah Williamson, you felt like an idiot for not recognizing the English footballer sooner.

But still you couldn't stop thinking about the six words that had such an affect on you that you decided to write a whole song based off them, hence why you spent 5 hours last night writing and rewriting the lyrics to your newest song. One you knew would make the fans go crazy over, but you hoped Leah wouldn't find it to weird.

yourinstagram just posted

liked by oliviarodrigo, hallebailey and 1,930,546 others

yourinstagram last night was sparkling✨

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sadiesink prettiest girl evaaa

yourinstagram says you

madisonbeer miss you y/n/n

yourinstagram come to london mads 🙏

username the things I would let her do to me

user73 the bi panic is real

maddieziegler ugly

yourinstagram 🪞🪞🪞 username02 i want a relationship with my best friend like the one they have yourinstagram trust me you don't user23 help she's so unserious

wosofan77 did anyone else see the pictures of her and leah together

LW6 yes! leah looked like the biggest fangirl

y/n'sbiggestfan is it just me or does the caption sound like a new song lyric????

yourinstagram 😏

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During a meeting with your publisher a few days after you'd finalised your new song and recorded it so it was ready to be released, you were sitting around doing nothing when a loud ping interrupted your daydreaming.

Your jaw dropped.

leahwilliamsonn started following you!

A loud scream left your mouth and you instantly rung your best friend Maddie, who you'd already told everything to involving the Leah situation.

'What do you want now?' Maddie's grumpy voice asked but you didn't care about how pissed she sounded.

'Leah followed me!' You squealed into the phone earning a groan from your best friend.

'Woo.' The american said in the most unenthusiastic, most sarcastic tone you've ever heard.

'You should be happy for your best friend.' You say childishly pouting.

'I would be if you hadn't called me at 5:50 on a Saturday morning, you know this is the day when I have a lie in.' She complains causing you to make an 'o' shape wit your mouth, you'd forgotten about the time difference between London and America.

'Sorry!' You apologise but only momentarily sympathising with the girl before returning to, in your opinion, more important matters. 'Well now you're awake, will you atleast give me advice on what to do. I don't want to embarrass myself.'

'I couldn't care less what you do, just follow her back or something. It's not that deep.' She tells you and you can tell by the way she yawns she just wants to be back in bed.

'Ok, sorry for waking you up. I'll let you get back to your beauty sleep now.' You say waiting for her to say goodbye but instead she just hands up. You roll your eyes, before opening instagram on your phone and hovering your finger over the follow back button next to Leah's profile which you had already spent hours stalking on a fake account. You repeat the words Maddie had told you in your mind a couple of times before manning up and pressing the button. After a while when nothing explodes you let out a breath you didn't realise you'd been holding.

Your publisher then returns to the room holding a couple of papers which she hands to you. 'You know the drill Miss L/N, I love the song and can't wait for you release it. It's going to be a hit.' She smiles and you grin back.

'Thank you so much for all your help, it doesn't go unnoticed.' You tell her. You both say goodbye before you head home.

For the first time in your career, you were releasing a single that you hadn't told the fans about. You didn't really care what they thought, you just prayed that a certain blonde footballer would like the song and not find it creepy.

yourinstagram just posted

liked by sadiesink, leahwilliamson and 3,476,891 others

yourinstagram E N C H A N T E D

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maddieziegler proud of you

yourinstagram 🫶🏽

y/n'sbiggestfan I was right!!!

liawaelti love the song!

katie_mccabe11 so does another Leah... victoriapelova she is going to kill you katie user27 help what are they on about

user43 does anyone know who this is about??

maddiezeigler 🙋

taylorswift 💜

yourinstagram no way your freaking kidding me

oliviarodrigo 🐐🐐🐐

leawilliamsonn 💙💙

upthegunners LEAH?!

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Your song was going viral, fans were going crazy over who you had written it about. But you didn't care, you were still obsessing over the fact that Leah hadn't just liked but also commented on your post. Maybe that meant she didn't find it weird, or maybe she hadn't put the pieces together it was about her.

Surely she had though.

You had made sure to let all your friends know how Leah had interacted with your post, but much to your dismay, most of them hung up mid call. So now you were left alone with a bottle of prosseco, celebrating your latest hit.

You were still wondering what Leah was thinking about the song. You were kind of stressed whether the Arsenal star was finding it creepy how you'd written a whole song about a girl you'd spoken to for the best part of ten minutes. But those worries were put to rest when you checked your instagram.

leahwilliamsonn just posted

liked by bethmead_, stephcatley and 92,370 others

leahwilliamsonn I was enchanted to meet you too

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katiemccabe_11 Leah the simp

leahwilliamsonn piss of McCabe

keirawalsh Leah's in loveeee

leahwilliamsonn i regret posting this now

leahfanpage the way I screamed

user65 bro same, this was not what i was expecting

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leahwilliamsonn sent yourinstagram a message...

Part 2? (also sorry this is terrible)

[simwithshan]

"Me Time" Calendar Traditions Mod (PUBLIC - 10/9TH)

Hi everyone, I am thrilled to introduce my latest mod, "Me Time" Calendar Traditions. This mod offers a straightforward and clean experience for your Sims, enhancing their calendar with structured activities to accomplish.

Each "Me Time" activity requires your Sims to complete just one specific task based on what you've scheduled. For instance, if you've marked Friday as "Beach Day," your Sim's goal is to head to the beach.

I designed this mod to be incredibly user-friendly, ensuring that it can be enjoyed without any added pressure. After all, the purpose of a scheduled planner is to simplify life, right?

"Me Time" Calendar Traditions includes 12 activities for your Sims to add to their calendar:

Cafe Day: Enjoy a visit to the cafe, whether alone or with friends.

Beach Day: Head to the beach for a relaxing day, alone or with company.

Lazy Day: Take a well-deserved nap to complete this tradition.

Gaming Day: Dive into some gaming to fulfill this activity.

Meal For One: Prepare and savor a meal exclusively for yourself.

Novel Reading Day: Spend quality time reading a book.

Picnic Day: Unpack your picnic basket and enjoy a delightful meal outdoors.

Tend To Plants Day: Show some love to your plants by tending to them.

TV Series Day: Watch your favorite TV series or shows to mark this day.

Thrifting Day: Explore the thrift store and create a unique outfit. Note that this requires certain expansion packs to work correctly.

Paint & Sip: Engage in either painting or enjoying a drink at the bar to complete this activity. You can choose one or both based on your Sim's preferences.

Live Stream Day: Open up a livestream from your tech/gaming career to participate in this event.

You have the flexibility to install only the traditions you prefer, allowing for a customized experience. Keep in mind that certain traditions may require specific expansion packs to function correctly. If you do not have Highschool Years, than you know Thrifting would not work for you and etc. Most of these traditions are compatible with the base game. 

Additionally, I recommend using the "Zebru - More Icons" mod to enhance your calendar with a variety of icons for a visually pleasing experience.

Here is a video link on how to use the mod

DL

[lenacosse]

You are in love

pairing: jake peralta x reader

cw: none

word count: 1600

summary: literally just based off the song you are in love by taylor swift, was written so quick but i love it

════════════════

One look dark room, meant just for you

“Jakes staring again,” Amy hummed nudging you to look.

You made eye contact with Jake who quickly looked away, your face went red and you tried to hide your smile.

“He wasn’t even looking at me.” You reply, shutting down Amy’s ideas.

“If you say soooo,” she blew you a kiss and stumbled over to the bar.

Before you knew it Jake was over sitting beside you, you smiled and took a sip of your drink.

“Hey.” Jake said.

“Hi.” You replied.

“Having fun?”

“I guess, just very loud in here,” you shrugged.

“I can’t believe you’ve been with us for three years now,”

Time moves too fast, you play it back

“I remember how shy you were, how you were scared of Holt.” Jake teased.

“Shut up Jake.” You playful shoved his arm, then resumed fidgeting with the buttons on your coat. “I remember you being oh so adamant to help me.”

Buttons on a coat, lighthearted joke

The two of you went back and fourth, Jakes only goal was to torment you. Something he done very often, you didn’t mind you thought he was funny but never would you admit that.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Jake asked.

“Actually yeah, I’ll call a cab.”

“No need, I’ll drive us I haven’t been drinking.”

“Okay.”

No proof, not much. But you saw enough.

Jake stands up and holds out his hand to help you up, this of course had your face turning red and your heart thumping. It was the little things he done that mislead your heart, there were times where you swore your feelings were mutual. Maybe you were wrong, but sometimes you allowed yourself to dream.

Jake even went as far as opening the car door for you, usually you’d roll your eyes at the gentleman approach but for some reason it was sweet when Jake done it, as much as you’d joked that he was a womaniser you knew he was far from that.

Small talk, he drives.

“So how are you enjoying work recently? Feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” You ask as Jake drives.

“The usual, busting drug lords, bringing down the mafia, saving the world day by day.” Jake replies.

“Ha ha very funny Peralta.” You roll your eyes, and his only response is a bashful grin, one that you know will reply in your mind.

Coffee, at midnight.

You and Jake went back to your apartment, you read the clock which hits midnight as he hands you a mug of coffee.

“Gonna be up all night,” Jake jokes.

“Oh I can image, you high on caffeine like a little child.” You tease, Jake just pulls a mocking face at you.

You go sit out on your balcony, Jake follows behind you and you sit in a comfortable silence drinking your coffee.

The light reflects, the chain on your neck.

“The moons reflecting on your necklace,” Jake says, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Really?”

He says, “look up” and your shoulders brush.

“Look up,”

No proof, one touch. But you felt enough.

As you do you brush shoulders with Jake, the touch sending chills down your spine. It was as if he sent electrical waves coursing through your body, it just solidified your undying commitment. You ever longing attraction. It spoke volume.

You can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out.

A comfortable silence emerged yet again over you both, that happened often with Jake. It’s not that you it was awkward but because you simply didn’t need to talk. As you watched him admire the moon the feeling that settled in your stomach grew, you found yourself reflecting on your feelings. It was simple. That feeling was heard in the silence that feeling was felt on the way home, and you could see it with the lights out. There’s was only one answer.

You are in love.

True love.

════════════════

Morning, his place.

You and Jake had been on your second date together, he asked you out two weeks ago. It came out in a complete blur.

You and Jake had just chased down a fugitive on the run, you ran two blocks which included jumping over fences and dodging hotdog carts. God this job was going to kill you. But finally you got the guy as a result of you lunging forward and landing on top of him knocking you both to the ground. Jake arrested him and you turn to make your way back to the car when he calls out for you.

“(Y/N)?”

You turn around, “yeah?”

“Go on a date with me tomorrow night?” He blurts out in one breath. You didn’t catch a word.

“What?”

“Go on a date with me tomorrow night?”

You couldn’t stop the stupid grin that overtook your face, of course you said yes. The date had gone so well, so well that when you got home you stayed awake all night thinking about him. And of course you had no hesitation asking him out for another date.

Burnt toast, Sunday.

Now you lay in his bed, slowly waking up. Although when you hear the fire alarm you jump up and run to the kitchen.

“Jake?! What the fuck!”

“Burnt toast…” Jake pulls a face and grabs the toast from the toaster, the toast which is fully cremated.

You look between Jake and the toast, the situation of course has you both laughing as you make him sit down. You from now on are appointed to make the food. You sit together on his couch eating toast (not cremated of course).

“You wearing my shirt?”

“I can take it off if you want… sorry it was just the first thing I grabbed.”

You keep his shirt.

“No why would you apologise keep it. Looks better on you.”

“Just my ex, got mad when I used his stuff.” You shrug, you didn’t realise how much that upset you until Jake lifted your chin.

He keeps his word.

“I promise I’ll never get mad at you,”

And for once, you let go, of your fears and your ghosts, one step, not much. But it said enough.

Usually you didn’t believe promises, but how could you not with Jake? Jake who was fiercely loyal and dedicated, Jake who would do anything to make someone smile. You knew he would keep his promises, and two months in that still withstood.

════════════════

“Jake!” You squeal running down the sidewalk.

He catches you and grabs your waist.

“You completely dodged the mistletoe.”

You kiss on sidewalks.

You roll your eyes and turn around, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close. You share a passionate kiss, one that has your head fuzzy and lips swollen by the end of you. When he pulls away you blush like an idiot and take his hand, you walk towards the car.

You fight, then you talk.

“No but seriously,” Jake starts as he gets into the car. “Why did you dodge the mistletoe. Is it about your family again?”

“Jake we’ve had this conversation.” You sigh as you turn on your engine and start the car up.

“I know but I don’t understand, you bring me to family events but you refuse to introduce me as your boyfriend.”

“Because it’s not that simple!”

“What’s not simple? All you have to say is ‘mom, dad this is my extremely handsome boyfriend Jake’ see easy.”

“Jake be serious come on,”

“Sorry. But please just tell me what’s so wrong with it, are you embarrassed of me or something?”

“How can you say that? Of course I’m not embarrassed of you Jake.” You sigh. “I don’t tell my family because I can’t handle them ruining this for me. Every time I’ve been happy they ruin it for me, either it’s them discrediting me becoming a detective because my sister has became a doctor, or it’s them making me feel bad for feeling sad when someone disappoints me, or most frequently it’s them picking apart all of my boyfriends because god forbid I’m happy for once. That’s why Jake. That’s why I refuse to introduce you as my boyfriend because I refuse to let them put things into my head.”

“I’m sorry, I had no idea.” Jake rubs a thumb over your hand.

“No it’s not your fault, I should have told you.”

════════════════

One night, he wakes

You smile looking at Jake before returning to your book, the lamp on your beside table dimly lights up the room. And again you find yourself staring at Jake, who’s so peacefully sleeping. His features outlined by the light, making him look ethereal. You were staring so intensely that you almost didn’t notice him waking up.

Strange look on his face

“Why are you looking at me like that.” You softly laugh, “everything okay?”

Pauses, then says;

“You’re my best friend.”

And you knew what it was.

The simplicity of the words has your throat stifling. You could recognise that realisation anywhere.

He is in love.

You knew he shared it too.

You can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out.

Finally you weren’t alone in this. You shared it, the love lingered all around. It was heard in the silence by both, it was felt on the way home by both, and it was seen with the lights out, by both.