#also still trying to figure out her face so sorry if it doesn’t look like her 👉👈

[lostinlovingrevery]

Vans Valentines - Rookie Romantic

Trilogy! Logan X F! Reader

Vans Valentines

A/N: I'm not super proud with this one and I was honestly struggling typing it 🥲There's a lot of dialogue in this too. Also no Valentines banner for this yet either bc i'm being lazy about graphics lol. I hope you like the fluff tho!

Plot: It's yours and Logan's first Valentines, and he's panicking about what to do for you!

Warnings: Fluff, Logan is stressssing, other X-men, lil romance, some suggestiveness at the end but not really? Lot of dialogue

Word Count: 2110

Logan was freaking out. 

Strange isn’t it? The big bad Wolverine is freaking out because…

He doesn’t know what to do for Valentines.

“You don’t know what to do?” Scott raises a brow, and crosses his arms. A small smirk on the corner of his lips. “You mean mister “I don’t need any help” needs help to figure out what to give his girlfriend for Valentines day?” 

Logan felt flustered, rolling his eyes at Scott's mocking words. The tip of his ears turned red in embarrassment, as he brought a hand to scratch the back of his head. “It’s not like I don’t know what to get her, I just…” He sighs. “We haven’t been dating that long yet, I don’t want to blow it.” 

“It’s Valentines man, get her some chocolate and flowers.” Scott shrugs. 

“Is that what you’re giving Jean?”

“No.” He scoffs. “I got her tickets to see her favorite orchestra play live in Vegas. She always wanted to go there.” 

Logan's face fell. He scowled at Scott.

“I mean, I’ll give her flowers and chocolate too but that’s not the main gift.” Scott adds. “Just…Give her something from the heart.”

“Real cheesy Summers.” 

Scott shook his head. “Whatever, just don’t mess it up. We both know she’s a real romantic about these things.” He waved him off, turning and walking away. Logan frowned, crossing his arms and pinching the bridge of his nose. The anxiety he was hoping to cease was filling him to the brim. He let a small sigh.

Maybe Marie will be better help…

“Oh flowers! Get her favorite flowers! Jewelry? What about jewelry?” She smiles. “You could take her out to a nice dinner? Honestly anything goes, it’s really the thought that counts to us girls. As long as you put the effort in….” 

“So I was told.” Logan sighs. “Look, I could do all that stuff, I have done that stuff in the past. I uh…Never really cared about doing something nice for someone like that. I want to do something that means something. It’s her favorite holiday.” 

“You could get her something personalized?” Marie shrugs.

“What are we talking about?” Ororo walks into the room.

“Logan's trying to find something for his girlfriend-” Marie teases. 

“Watch it kid.” Logan shook his head. “I just haven’t figured it out yet. I’m looking for…suggestions.” Logan throws his hands up a weak shrug. “Any ideas?

“Really Logan?” Ororo scolds putting a hand on her hip. “You haven’t figured it out by now? Valentines is literally in a few days you know”

“I know! I’ve been thinking about it for a month!” Logan snaps, his voice nearly a growl. Marie and Ororo stare at him. “Sorry, sorry.” He says, brushing his hand through the curls of his hair. “I just…Want it to be…Special.” He gets out in frustration. 

“How about a weekend trip?” Ororo asks. “I had a boyfriend do that for Valentines. It was a really nice gift.” She smiles. 

“Maybe.”

“Whatever you do, just make sure it’s nice. You know how much she loves Valenti-”

“Yeah yeah.” Logan waved Ororo off, turning to walk out of the room. He didn’t mean to be rude, he did ask after all, but he was stressing out more and more. None of what anyone suggested sat right with him. He sat lost in thought as he wandered the mansion. 

This was yours and Logan's first Valentines. He wanted to do something nice for you, since he’s known for as long as you both been here that it was your favorite holiday. He actually did give you flowers last year for Valentines, but you were both still friends then- tittering on the edge of a relationship but he was too nervous to actually ask you out that time. 

This time he wanted to make it mean something- to make up for last year, feeling like he disappointed you by not officially taking you out that day. 

He happened by Hanks study. Maybe Hank knows something, since you two are good friends. 

He stepped inside, and Hank looked up from his desk, a blink of surprise. “Logan? Good to see you. Need something?”

“Yeah uh…Has my girl said anything to you about Valentines? Like…Maybe if she was expecting something?”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “No, not at all.” He shook his head. “I do know that she seems excited this year. Do you have something planned?”

Logan's expression told Hank what he needed to know. He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Just take her out for a date Logan. All she wants is to be with you.” 

Logan shook his head. “Looking for something a little more than that Hank.” He sighs, turning to walk out into the hallway. 

He wasn’t good at this. He had been wandering on his own for years and years. Alone.  Valentines would pass him by and he wouldn’t even notice unless he stopped at a bar that actually decorated with string hearts and “romance” deals on the whiskey. He’s not even sure if he ever even at least hooked up with someone on Valentines. It didn’t matter to him, wasn’t important. It was another day, in his long, fleeting life. 

Now that he’s got you. He sees the appeal of the holiday. Spoiling your loved one, making sure they know how you feel about them, the romance, the intimacy. All great. Except now the pressure of making sure he impresses you, makes you happy, really stresses him out. 

Faint memories of old relationships, where he gifted flowers, candy, and going out to dinner, leading to intimate nights spent together. Stuff that he didn’t necessarily put the effort into- things that he did because they were expected and he was content to just do what he could. He could do all that sure, and you’d probably love it. You weren’t picky, but you were a romantic and he felt like if he settled on his gifts, on his expression of love; you’d be disappointed. 

Lost in thought, he nearly missed Charles in his head, asking him to come to his study urgently. He put your gifts on the back-burner, as he made his way to Charles office, to realize his day was about to get worse. 

It was now Valentines, and Logan was begrudgingly walking up the steps to the mansion, having returned from a mission, that lasted nearly 4 days.

The chaos left him little time to get you gifts, just enough time to get you a bouquet of flowers which unfortunately got smushed when some jackass shoved into him. He went to get a new bouquet- and of course, that same jackass happened to snatch the last one. Valentines evening, figures they would nearly be out. 

He got up to the door, staring at the bouquet in disdain. He’ll make it up to you, he knows he will. Surely you understand what happened, right? 

Just as he went to open the door, it opened on it’s own, with Scott and Jean standing there, arms hooked with each other, dressed as they seemed prepared to go on a fancy date.

“Logan!” Jean smiled, then shot a look at Scott, who was smirking. “Welcome back!” 

“Yeah.” Logan gives a courteous nod, pursing his lips together. “You guys look nice.” He compliments, looking them up and down. Fancy, flashy outfits. Jean in a bright red evening gown, and Scott in a tux- with a red tie to match her dress; and supposedly his glasses too. 

“Thank you.” Jean smiles bigger, hugging Scott's arm a little closer to her. “We’re going out to dinner.” 

“Have fun.” He says, not very heartfelt in his words as he moved to step inside past them.

“Hey, she’s in the kitchen by the way.” Jean calls out over her shoulder. Logan looks back at them, as they were walking out the door.

“Hope you got something nice planned Logan.”  Scott remarks, and looked over his shoulder as well, glancing at Logan, the smirk still plastered on his face. Jean quietly hushed him and they disappeared down the walkway. Logan shut the door behind them, confusion on his face.

Why were they weird?

He made his way to the kitchen, past the various student couples flirting and necking throughout the halls and rooms, rolling his eyes at the young love the entire mansion has found itself in. Anxiety began to hit him as he began to realize how disappointed you were going to be. He stopped just before the doorway of the kitchen, preparing himself before he stepped in. 

Confusion filled him as he looked around. You weren’t in here. He must have just missed you. 

He turned to leave, before noting the patio door was cracked open. His brows creased, as he walked across the room, his hand reaching out to close it when he noticed rose petals on the floor. 

“What the hell?” He muttered to himself. Jean telling him you were in the kitchen, and Scotts remark….He had a feeling this had something to do with you. He stepped further out, walking along the scattered rose petals, stretching across the lawn- seemingly endless as he followed them. 

He sniffed, a could smell your perfume nearby, as well as the faint smell of food. A small smile grew on his face, as he followed a small path through the woods that the rose petals led him through. That’s when he came into the small clearing- where you were.

You’re back was turned to him, but he could see you were wearing one of his favorite dresses on you, and your hair done up. You seemed busy arranging the table, which had lit candles, plates, and bowls and decorative plates filled with his favorite food. Nearby, he heard music playing crooners and jazz. The clearing had lights strung up on the trees, lighting up the small area and creating a romantic ambiance that reminded Logan how much he loved you.

Silently he snuck up behind you, his arm quickly wrapped around your waist as he pulled you against him, a small gasp escaping you as he buried his face in your neck, taking a deep inhale of your scent. It had been a few days since he seen you after all, he missed you dearly. 

“Hi Lo…” You giggled, placing your arms over his and leaning back into him. “Happy Valentines day…”

“This all for me bub?”

“This? Oh, no. It’s for Hank.” You teased shaking your head, feigning as if you were serious. 

“Not funny.” He murmured, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. You turned around, placing your hands on his shoulders. His eyes quickly taking in your figure, reminding him once again why this dress was his favorite on you. 

“You like it?” You asked. 

“Like it? I love it baby.” He cooed, leaning in to peck your lips. “Um…” He parted from you, lifting the broken bouquet up. “These are..For you.” 

Your face lit up as you took the flowers into your hands, “Lo!”

“I…” He sighed in frustration, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. “I’m sorry, I didn’t do anything super…fancy. I wanted to, couldn’t think of anything and then that damn mutant went on a rampage over in-”

“Lo-” You hushed him, putting a finger to his lips. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone told me you’ve been stressing over it, so that’s why I took care of it.”

“Everyone?” Logan quirked a brow. Then rolled his eyes, as he felt his cheeks heat up. “No one can keep their mouth shut around here…” 

You giggled, cupping his face with your hands, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him again, distracting him from his irritation from everyone else. He smiled into your kiss, leaning forward into you, as his hand pushed against your back, as if he couldn’t get close enough to your persons. You parted with a gasp, eyes dazed from him. 

“Well, since you got this part covered.” He mutters softly as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I’ll make sure the rest of the night won’t be forgetful.”

You giggled at his insinuation. “I got a surprise for later, by the way.” You say. He leaned his head, taking a look at you questioningly. “You’ll like it.” 

He hummed. “I’m sorry again that I-”

“Logan, hush.” You stop him. “All I’d ever want is you. I don’t need a bunch of fancy gifts for you to show me you love me. I just want you.” 

He smiled, genuine and broad, he leaned closer to you again, pecking your forehead. “Same here, bub.” He responds softly. 

[sargeantsarmy]

EMMA BIRTHDAY !!!! (My queen <3<3)

[cursingtoji]

cw: office au, nanami x loser!reader, semi public, oral, praising, slight emotional dependency? geto version gojo version toji version

nanami is so in love with the little office loser. he doesn’t give you much attention when you first arrive, just another presence in the office. then he starts to, unwillingly, listen to the conversation of others about giving the new clumsy girl a little rough time.

nanami watches from the corner of his eye as you quietly accepts your boss’ request to work overtime, he frowns as your boss implies under many corporate jargons that it’ll be unpaid and you should do it for the team.

“so naive” he murmurs watching you smile.

he can’t help but become infatuated with you when watching your skirt raising when you try to reach a tall shelf in the communal kitchen.

“here” he catches the coffee beans bag for you, without even needing to extend his arm much. nanami arrives so quietly that his voice scares you and you take a step back bumping into his strong body behind you and leaving a tiny squeal out, “sorry, are you okay?” he puts his hand on your shoulder.

“y-yes, thank you” he gives you space and you turn around looking at him over the thick frame of your glasses. it reminds nanami of those ads where a gorgeous woman has a pair of glasses down her nose and the caption says something like ‘single hotties in your area’. he then understands the appeal.

he keeps himself busy most days, so one day as soon as he sends an email he relaxes on his desk rolling his shoulders and looking around just in time to watch you knock a box of staples off your table. he raises from his seat to go help you but he gets a call at the same time so he sits back down to answer it while keeping his eyes on you.

you kneel picking the small items one by one. he likes seeing you on your knees. then you push your chair and crawl under the desk, trying to reach a few staples that went under the cabinet, at this point you’re with your head down on the carpeted floor and your ass up, nanami watches it with lusty eyes, just agreeing and humming to whatever the person on the phone is saying while wondering if you remember you are wearing a skirt. he watches in awe the black semi transparent pantyhose you have on stretch at the back of your thighs and the panties peeking out from underneath it.

when you get up your hair is messy and your face is flushed, you don’t think most of it, just glad to have caught every little staple. meanwhile nanami pulls his chair closer to his desk so you don’t see the volume in his pants when you pass by after basically flashing him.

nanami knows he wouldn’t last long with you around. one night he also stays overtime and you, being the extreme people pleaser you are, bring him some coffee and different sugar packets since you don’t know how he takes his coffee, but even with this simple self-assigned task you still manage to screw up and spill some on his pants immediately apologizing and getting on your knees to clean it with your sleeve. the friction on his upper thigh is making him grow hard but your teary eyes is what pushes him over the edge.

“nanami-san, don’t go home too late” the last person in the office says stepping on the elevator and waving goodbye.

“have a good night” the blond manages to say over the desk divider that hides your figure. finally knowing you two are alone kento throws his head back and allow his muscles to relax and enjoy the warmth of your mouth as you suck him.

“that’s right, sweetheart, good girl” he praises with a guiding hand on the back of your neck. it’s so good to have someone praising you in this place that your eyes water with joy. kento never meant to nut in the office but here he is, watching his cum run down your chin.

you take the small bin under his desk to spit the incriminating evidence of his pleasure so you don’t have to swallow it, “here, let’s make the clean crew think that’s matsuda’s” kento switches the bin with the one under his coworkers desk.

he hates to admit but over time he starts to look forward the times you feel overwhelmed and come to him for affection.

which leads him to the tiny copy room way too many times, making you hold the edge of your skirt and pulling your underwear and tights down to eat you out on top of the copy maker.

“keep quiet, darling” he warns knowing fully well how thin the walls are.

although you have done many unspoken things to him in this office, nanami still flusters you. every time he’s near, your thighs start to shake and your clit throbs untouched.

“come here, i’ll show you” he motions you over his desk when you ask for help with a task. you watch him perform it on the computer screen, “now you try it” he moves his chair a bit to give you space to use his keyboard and as you bend over slightly to replicate his steps he uses the opportunity to feel the skin of the back of your legs since today you don’t have any tights.

“go back, click here” he corrects still touching you, his hand comes higher, laying just under your ass cheeks, “why are you shaking? type the code there” he says like he doesn’t have a hand under your skirt.

“s-sorry” you say when making a mistake.

“it’s okay, start over” he commands, now playing with the hem of your underwear, it’s hard to do what he showed you when you can’t even guide the cursor right.

nanami pushes the material of your underwear into your folds making out the shape of your pussy through it.

“do it again with this file” he points sounding so collected it makes you even more nervous, he rubs your core so lightly, it’s almost like he’s doing it for his own pleasure, like he’s trying to make out the shape of your clit with the tips of his finger only.

“save it, and send to yourself” as you finish the task he starts to pull down your underwear looking around to make sure no one is watching when he helps you step out of the white lacy material, “well done” he bends to pick your panties, giving your leg a quick kiss — since that’s the most he can do in the office during the day—, and putting the soaked fabric in his pocket.

“thank you” you smile and slowly make your way back to your desk, though your boss calls you middle way about a mistake you made on a file and to come to his office, now you wonder how you’re supposed to make it through the day not only without underwear but also dripping wet.

[hoshigray]

𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Going on a date with the guy who broke your heart is something you’d never thought would happen – especially on Valentine’s Day! But it’s just for him to be in your good graces again, nothing more…Yeah, go ahead and tell yourself that.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining + confessions - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - going on a date - sex in a public space; hotel room - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (sucking and swiping) - missionary position - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up + Gojo doesn't shoot inside) - pet names (baby, cutie pretty, princess, sweetie) - angst + fluff - cameos: Shoko, Mei Mei, Utahime, Geto, Nanami - mentions of tears and spit - humor bc I'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k (going out with a bang, jfc)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: final part to this short yet fun story !! tysm for the love you've given this series, it was a random idea that came to me last year and I'm so glad I was able to put more thought into it. all y'all's comments and rbs have been entertaining to read thru, love the support and engagement this story sparked with you, and I thank you sm for sticking around ccc: also!!! ty for 5.9k loveliessss mwah mwah~

and lol, yes, the title is based on the laufey song, hehe~

prev story » ❤︎

“Sorry, Satoru, Y/n doesn’t wanna see you right now — like, at all.”

“Oh, Gojo. Sorry, Y/n’s in no mood to talk to you right now. Said you better not make so much as a step past this door. Because if you do, I’ll have to charge your savings.”

“Hmph, you got some nerve, Gojo! Didn’t you hear from Mei Mei earlier? Y/n doesn't wanna talk to you…What the hell did you do this time?”

You could hear your roommates telling off the person showing up at the front door from your door. Before, they’d come to you and ask if you wish to give this person an audience for your presence. Yet you say the same thing: you’re not ready to converse with them. You’ll probably never want to talk with them again. 

It’s been like this for the past week. Ever since the little fiasco between you and Gojo — not to mention you slapping him across the face for his upsetting words — things between the two of you have been quiet as promised. The very last words you ever told him were to never speak to you again after publicly humiliating yourself by crying in front of him.

Outside of being the talk in everyone’s mouth (I mean, who wouldn’t gossip about one person slapping another after walking into them saying some mean shit about the other), you’ve been worried about by your friends ever since the incident. Your direct senior roommate, Utahime, was the first one to see you crying to yourself after coming home from classes and immediately called up Gojo to rip him a new one for making her junior roomie cry. Shoko was the passive one who listened to both sides yet still put your emotional state above anything else, telling Gojo white lies that you weren’t in your dorm room whenever he’d try to visit. And Mei Mei walked with you to your classes throughout the week in case the tall figure tried looking for you.

But it didn’t stop there. After that day, your Contemporary Issues course with Professor Naga was sheer awkwardness. The silent tension between you and Gojo was so thick that it effortlessly suffocated your peers and made it hard to concentrate — especially for the professor and your friends, Ijichi and Haibara. Outside of the class, you did your part in avoiding Gojo, and the same applies to the lectures you shared with him. No words, no greeting – not even a mere glance – were shared in his direction. It was as if your life mission was to avoid him at all costs.

However, this is Satoru Gojo we’re talking about. Although he respected your no-talking rule in the premise of lectures, he’d still try to get your attention once class was over. And even then, you’d bolt to the door to not give him the chance. He’d follow right behind you and have to maintain a respectable distance when Mei Mei was the light lavender eyes behind your back.

But what the hell did he expect? What he said hurt you to your core, so there was no way you’d want to speak with him again. He deserved that slap! The sting you inflicted on his face for a few minutes was nothing compared to the torment of your heart that’s been aching for a long while now. You can’t even look at Gojo after what had transpired. The pain he caused has been with you for a while, yet it still felt new and fresh to reflect on. 

And yet…your mind still can’t help but agonize you even more. Do you think it was easy to not engage with Gojo this entire time? Oh, it was the worst, both for your soul and mind. The memories of his smile and dimples would come up every often, pooling you deeper into your dread. The routine of him speaking to you with whispers when it was just the two of you — like he didn’t want others to find you in the comfort of each other’s presence — like it was sacred. And the way he said your name. It toyed with your heart whenever you’d reminisce it. 

“Y/n!”

Especially after how much has changed in your relationship with him, you really thought things between you and him were going for the better. Or, to be honest, becoming something a lot closer and personal. Something you grew to want with him as the days’ encounters and nightly calls went by. 

“Y/n...”

But you were wrong, lecturing yourself for being so dumb and naive for wanting such a thing. Amid the fun, you had forgotten what you two were and believed that you could change from that. Change with him. And yet here you are, broken-hearted, barely concentrating on your Word document on your laptop. 

“Hey, Y/n,” your brow twitched with the snap of reality, Utahime opening the door after knocking. “It’s the front door again; it’s—“

“GRRRAAAHHHHHHHHH!!” 

You were never one to shout within your apartment — Utahime’s eyes widened at the sudden shout of vexation. You stood up from your desk and walked past her, marching through the hallway. Mei Mei peeks from her shared room, and Shoko pours coffee in the kitchen. All three of your roommates observe you stomping to the door.

You swung the apartment door open with vigor, “I SWEAR TO CHRIST, GOJO, WHAT PART OF ‘DON’T EVER TALK TO ME’ DO YOU NOT UNDERST—…Geto?”

“Oh, hey there, Y/n. I was worried about you.” You were surprised to open the door and not find the unusual silver hair you expected. Instead, it was Suguru Geto, Gojo’s dark-haired direct roommate, rubbing his cold hands together that weren’t covered with his black windbreaker. Next to him was Kento Nanami, standing silently in his sand-colored trench coat.

“Hey, guys,” knowing they aren’t who you thought it would be, your shoulders relaxed with your tone. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Geto sighs heavily before telling anything. “We wouldn’t be here for a reason. And, after hearing what happened between you and you-know-who, I think you can guess why we're here, too.”

And then it hits — the realization of how these two’s abrupt appearance came to be. “…He asked you two to come and talk to me for him.” 

The two roommates look at each other for a second, and then Geto points behind him with his thumb to the stairwell door. You follow his finger, seeing the person you’re talking about watching you from the door window. You try not to contort your face into an ugly, exasperated expression in front of the other boys. So, you settle for a sigh to alleviate the stress growing inside you.

“Ugh. What is it.” You ask Geto with an attitude that wasn’t easily sheathed.

“Honestly, all I know is that he really – like, really – wants to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to him. So there,” you shake your head and backtrack past the threshold of your door. “Sorry you two came here for no reason, but I can’t—“

“—Wait!” Geto cuts you off and brings a hand on the door to stop you from closing it. You caught the intervention, widening the door again. Geto explains himself. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you—well, no, sorry. I get that Satoru said some things that hurt you last week. Believe me: I already lectured him hell and back for it when Shoko told me you came home crying, and you have every right to be mad at him right now…But—“

“Did he tell you what he said to me?”

“H—No, he didn’t,” your brow quirked at that response. He didn’t? “All he told me when I confronted him was that he messed up real bad and crossed a line.” 

“A line?” You enunciated after him. “That’s cute...Geto, he won’t tell you what he said because I caught him saying those things. That scumbag,” you averted your gaze to the door window, seeing Gojo gulp at your fierce eyes. “—knows what he said. And he knows that I told him I want nothing to do with him for that.”

Nanami was quiet throughout the entire thing, so it took you aback when he spoke. “And I’m on your side in that regard. You’re right, he is a scumbag; tactless, crude, borderline annoying—“

“Just borderline?” Geto points the word out to lighten the mood.

“And the type of person to get on someone’s nerves purposely. And with that, I don’t blame you for cutting him off. If anything, it’s what he deserves, if not more.”

You knew there was more to say beyond that. “And yet…"

“And yet,” Nanami picks it up. “…I’d be lying if I said that guy doesn’t know when he’s at fault. He can be prideful and childishly playful — albeit disrespectful to anyone he thinks doesn’t deserve it. However, he’s not emotionless, and if he is disrespectful to his friends, he knows when he’s in the wrong.“

“And take it from me, Y/n.” Geto comes in with the assist now that things are a bit calm. “Fucking asshat will take days to apologize to me for something stupid, and that’s if he feels like giving me one. But even if he doesn’t, I know he cares about me like any best friend…Like he cares about you.”

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes, so you close them and shake your head. “He doesn’t care—“

“Yes, he does.” Nanami doesn’t let you finish that sentence. “Like I said: Gojo is many things, but he’s not an emotionless moron. Because I can tell that whatever he said distraught you to your core and made him feel bad about it — pathetically so.”

“…How do you know?” You don’t know why you asked that question; why the fuck should you care? The fucker in question is the one that broke your heart behind your back, so why bother?

“Because when he came home that day, Geto pulled him by the shirt, threw him against the wall, and yelled at him like no tomorrow. And he just stood there, letting Geto give him his rightful lashing. He even told him he didn’t deserve you as a friend, which I agreed with. But then Gojo said something after that…”

Again, this isn’t something you should be caring about. So why are you turning to Geto to ask, “…What did he say?”

“He said I was right, that he definitely didn’t deserve you.” Before the raven-haired boy answered, he exhaled through his nostrils. “And that what he said about you was, by far, the dumbest thing he’s ever done, which is saying a lot.”

“A whole lot.” The blond-haired boy jumped in. “Y/n, don’t take this as me vouching for him. But, if you could have seen the look on his face when he said that,” he nods when you shake your head ‘no’ again. “You would feel the guilt and shame pouring from him. It was pathetic to look at — pathetic for him to express. But it was real.”

And you know it’s the truth — not because it came from Nanami, but because you could picture the scene as if you were there. You could just imagine Gojo’s face, a dangerous move as your heart skipped with a twinge. You imagine the emotions he was expressing, your skin crawling thinking about his blue eyes – usually filled with life and light – appearing so broken and devoid of animation. 

“He does care about you — there’s no mistake about it. You two have been friends since freshmen year; he’d be an idiot to let those years go down the drain because of him. And that’s why we went along with coming here in his stead and asking you to talk to him.” You open your mouth, but Geto isn’t finished. “Please, Y/n. You’re the mature one, but you don’t have to act strong on this one. I can only assume, of course, but I’m sure you want this handled, too.”

He wasn’t wrong, yet at the same time, you couldn’t shake the heavy feeling that was weighing you down. 

“I…I don’t want to speak with him.” The two guys didn’t change their facial expressions. “Not now, at least...I don’t want to see his face right now.”

“Then how about a phone call later tonight?” Nanami proposed. “You two can talk it out with each other after you guys think about what to say to each other. You can even have the call while we’re sleeping so you can have privacy.”

“Ehhh, but I’m nosy.” Geto teases his sophomore roommate, making the younger blonde huff. 

“Not tonight, you are. Plus, you got a project to present tomorrow, so you need sleep.”

“Fair, fair…But seriously, Y/n, you should talk with him. If not for him, then for us, for Shoko, Utahime, Mei Mei, all of us. We don’t want you upset about what this idiot did this time. So, one talk should be okay, right?”

It should be okay. Keyword: should. However, the anxiety that you harbor within your limbs tells you otherwise. The pool in your stomach churning into a state you find uncomfortable to fight against. 

But concurrently, you couldn’t lie to yourself; a piece was missing in all of this. The resolution was needed — there had to be a way to see the entire picture in this matter. Otherwise, you’d be walking around campus mad at the person behind a door examining your reactions for the entire semester — no, the whole next year! You knew you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that. You can barely go through it right now. So, might as well get this off the table before it worsens…At least, that’s what you say to rationalize.

“…Okay,” you straightened your posture. “The girls have morning classes tomorrow. Tell him to call me at midnight.” 

Your answer sealed the deal, the two males dismissing themselves before you closed the apartment door. Your roommates peered around the corner once they heard the door lock, coming to ask if you were all right. You molded a faux smile and said you were fine, and yet you couldn’t tell if that was a lie to them or yourself. 

From there, the time felt so long to witness and experience throughout the day, watching one hour pass after the other. The sun had never settled under the horizon so slowly before, taking its time to draw the curtains of darkness over the Earth. And yet the time went fast simultaneously — the minutes spooked you every time you looked at the clock. 

Was this the universe’s way of toying with you for agreeing to talk to Satoru Gojo? It had to be. Your stomach doing somersaults didn’t help either; you could barely get through eating dinner because the dreaded talk bound to happen in a few hours was all your mind could think about. 

And then, when everyone was fast asleep ten minutes before midnight, your nerves couldn’t settle down. Five minutes before, you decided to take yourself and the phone to the bathroom (because the fan would be loud enough to tune out your conversation), needing the tiny space to yourself to pace back and forth and not to disturb Utahime snoring away. One minute before, you were sitting on top of the toilet, watching the seconds go by on your phone, praying that he wouldn’t call on the dot. He wouldn’t buzz you at the immediate stroke of twelve, right? He had to be doing something — anything else — hoping he’d spare you another minute if he could.

BZZZR!! BZZZR!!

However, that wasn’t the case. He called you right on the dot, and your heart jumped at the vibration from your phone. His display name was titled ‘do not answer this jerk,’ a change you made the day after the incident. Yet here you are, in the bathroom, and your thumb shaking over the green button. 

It wasn’t until the sixth vibration that you pressed the button with a sharp inhale, bringing the phone to your ear with haste. The silence was in the air for a couple of seconds, worsening your anxiousness. Until—

“…Hey.” He was the first to say something, thank God.

“Hi…..Where are you?”

“Outside my apartment, sitting on the stairwell...You?”

“In the bathroom.”

“You sitting on the toilet?”

You know what he was doing, making the conversation easier before getting to the hard stuff. Nonetheless, you admit it was working while your nervous state gradually deteriorated. “…And what if I am?”

“Then I’d say….Heh, actually, no. I can’t make that joke right now. Not when we’re like this.”

“Mmm, like this…” You hummed, the awkward tension filling the silence once again. “….Look, Gojo—“

“Before you say anything,” he cut you off, but you allowed it. “I have a lot I wanna say to you, and I want to get them out the way before I forget and never get the chance to say them to you…Can I say them?”

Your brows scrunched together, your free hand drawing reassuring circles on your thigh, and your teeth gnawing on your bottom lip. “…Go ahead.”

“Okay…So, first off,” you held your breath to brace yourself. “What I said about you on that day — I’m not gonna sit here and say I didn’t mean those things when I said them because I did. But NOT in the way you’re thinking.”

“Then what way did you mean them, Gojo?”

“I meant them in the implication that I was trying to protect what you and I had.” Had? “Our relationship was being questioned, some girl was asking about us and…I know you weren’t ready to have our business out in the world yet, so I thought….I just said what was believable with how everyone sees us since we’re always butting heads and shit. So, I said and meant those things to protect us in the heat of the moment. And then…I guess I got carried away.” 

“You guess you got carried away?” You repeated, your anxiousness now substituting for subtle anger. “…Just a little person angry at the world around them? So exhausting to deal with someone so boring and uncute as me?”

“Holy fuck, you remember it all—“

“Of course I did!” How could you not!? “And then — hmph, now this one I’ll never forget — ‘I’ve seen prettier, been with better, I feel sorry for the poor bastard who does end up with them’…” Your emotions were a mix of offense and pain, irritation and misery. Despite that, your voice maintained a calm tone, even if you wanted to do nothing but yell at the screen. Yet that wouldn’t solve this. “Gojo, the fact that I know all of that, verbatim, and have refused to talk, think, touch, or even look at you since them…To say you got carried away is just…like, holy fuck. Who the hell were you?” 

He didn’t say anything for a minute, but you couldn’t blame him. Being hit with his own words like that, any moral human being would stop and let that shit simmer into their skin. 

“…I’m sorry,” you wanted to call bullshit so bad, but not after he followed up with this. “Really. I’m so…so fucking sorry, Y/n. I know that shit wasn’t cool, and, to be honest, I expected more than one slap for that. I only meant it to save you the burden of gossip; believe me when I say that.”

“I—ahem…” Nope, you were not going to do this. Not tonight. “I want to believe you, Gojo. But I just…I can’t; it hurts my head thinking about it.”

“I know…I did that to you, and I’m so fucking sorry. My foot was too far up my mouth when I said all that, just one useless thing after another….And you know what’s crazy? I think my conscience knew me spouting shit wasn’t the right call. I mean, I literally walked with you to the class that day; what kind of friend does that and say shit like that afterward? And when I saw you….the way you looked so…distant? Just like that, everything that we had was just gone. I couldn’t see it — I saw absolutely nothing when I saw you. That scared me, seeing the happiness and the smile you had minutes ago just vanish with the flip of a switch. And I fucking did that. I knew at that moment that I lost you…..Y/n…? Are you crying?” 

You immediately moved the phone away from your ear, covering your mouth with the arm of your sweatshirt. The cries you tried to suppress poured out at that moment, and the pain that scratched your insides left your system with every sob and intake of breath. The tears damped the material, soaking them in as they rolled down your cheeks.

As ways to start the eve of your Monday, crying with the person who broke your heart on the phone was not one you expected to be one of them. It all hurt: the rapid emotions, the memories of that day replaying in your head, the genuine sincerity expressed in his voice. It was all too fucking much, your face heating up to a concerning level that you’d think you’d blow up.

You give yourself a few seconds before bringing the phone to your ear, “….What else?” 

“Huh?”

“You said—sniff—that you had other things you wanted to say to me.” A change of subject was necessary, not wanting him to notice the broken crack of your voice. “So, what else?”

The request took him aback, but he knew better than to question or fight you. “…Second of all, I wanna say – since I’m not sure I’ll ever get the chance to tell them to you in person – I want you to know that you’re more than what I said. There’s nothing 'kinda' pretty about you — you’re pretty all over. I’m not saying that to butter you up; it’s something I’ve said to myself all this time…Who am I kidding, saying I’ve been with prettier and better when I hurt the most beautiful and kindest one my eyes ever laid on….? Boring and uncute? Heh, you’re anything but. Sure, I say you're uncute when you nag at me to no end, but I don’t think there’s been a single day that I’ve thought you were a sore for my eyes. You’re too gorgeous for that.”

“Gojo—“

“I don’t deserve you as a friend, Y/n.” Your breath hitched. “Honest. I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now. And yet, you gracing me with time to spare shows that I really don’t have the right to have you close to me…I’m sorry.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he was honest about his apology. You felt it in your bones; your gut told you what Gojo told you was true. Your anger was nowhere to be found, but your guard was still up.

You slowly exhale through your mouth before taking your turn in the conversation. “So…Is that all?” 

“….”

“…Gojo?”

“….”

“Gojo? Are you still—“

“I like you.”

Okay, you lied; your guard wasn't up for that.

There’s no way he just said that. There’s no way those three exact words left his mouth and entered your eardrums. They kept ringing throughout your head, bouncing off the walls of your cranium with each repeated syllable. Your eyes widened by the second, your body coming to a complete standstill. And yet, the only thing that was moving and showed signs of life was your heartbeat increasing with the silence.

He likes you. The Gojo Satoru — your frenemy, annoying peer, and friend who enjoys your yelling and nagging — likes you.

“You…You what?” You heard him perfectly, but you wanted to confirm this wasn’t some joke.

“I like you.” He didn’t hesitate to replicate. “I do, I really do. I’ve liked you for….quite a long while, way before we started having sex together.”

“How long ago is that?”

“I think since the spring semester of freshman year when we had started to get a little closer before you became friends with Geto...Yeah, for a while now.”

“…Why?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you like me? 

You heard him sigh out a large breath before answering. “…To be honest, I just like how you…are you. Like, you’re not scared to be yourself around me. Many people I’ve known try to kiss my ass for me to call them a friend, and even then, those guys are assholes…But you, I don’t see that — I never saw that. You’d never kiss my ass; you’d always be down to tell me when I’m wrong or right. Being around you was different from other people; I felt comfortable around you like you were one of my friends.” 

You didn’t intervene, listening to every word he was to say. 

“Not to mention…Heh, you’re so cute. Like, actually. And pretty, and independent, and bright. I can’t count how many times I’ve been lost in my thoughts about you. Especially recently, you’re all that I can think about. I like how it feels to hold your hand, and your fingers look small against mine. I could never get enough of you talking to you; it’s one of the things I look forward to. And, holy fuck, the way you smile. I swear, you could kill me with that face of yours. And your eyes — I’m always told mine are so beautiful to look at, yet I find that impossible whenever I get stuck when you look at me….Y/n? Are you—You’re not crying, are you?”

You said in sniffles. “You’re such a fucking asshole, Gojo…”

“Huh!? Why??”

“You break my heart one day and then say all these things the next…Are you trying to tell me that stunt you pulled is that dumb thing where people say stupid shit about someone else because they like them?”

“Hey, I told you why I said them! Besides, those two bimbos were getting in our personal life, and we didn’t have anything to call our relationship, so…!”

“Sniff—And you! Why didn’t you tell me you liked me for so long instead of annoying me to no end?”

“I could’ve done that, but…I don’t know. I guess our relationship was easier the way we had it. Things were less complicated for you. Plus, you’re cute when you’re angry at me.”You had to scoff at that. Of course, he’d say something like that. He can be such a prick sometimes. “I was okay with how things were, being all naggy and arguing with you while secretly close to you. I didn’t want to change something we were used to into something more.”

“Mmm.” You could only hum to that sentence, letting his words sink in before saying anything. “…Would it have been a bad thing if it was something more?”

He didn’t answer immediately, indicating that he took the question in serious thought. “No…I wouldn’t have minded. But that decision was all yours to make.”  

“Gojo,” The words you were about to say were about to be so nerve-wracking that you had to take in a deep breath. Chewing on your lips while exhaling through an open mouth. “….Would it be a bad thing if I said….that I liked you, too? And that…I still like you—”

KA-BANG-BANG!!

You jumped at the sudden sound coming from the other side of the line, as it was not the response you were expecting, and you could hear him saying curses further from the phone. After a few brief seconds, Gojo’s voice comes back.

“Fuck, sorry, sorry! I just dropped my phone on the stairs!” He sounded so worried, as if he lost you. “You.…You like me?”

“Yeah, I do…” Gosh, you didn’t think this would happen, the heat on your cheeks expanding to your ears and neck. “I really do. And I’m also willing to forgive you. BUT, you have to prove your worth by redeeming—“

“I WILL!” Again, it wasn’t the reaction you were expecting! He replied with such momentous excitement that you could imagine the sparkle in his blue eyes. “I will, I promise! In fact, I have an idea; how about I take you out on a date?” 

Huh!? “A date??”

“Yeah, on Valentine’s Day, this Wednesday! I know this great place not too far from here, or maybe you wanna go to a small café to wind down from classes? You can pick—”

“Wait, wait! We have classes that day; we have our night class with Professor Yaga—“

“We could skip—“

“Hell. No.” You shut him down with quickness. “We’re going over some serious discussions that day for our papers on Friday; we’re just gonna have to do the date after class.” 

“Pfft, God, you can be such a geek sometimes.”

For the first time that night, you rolled your eyes. “Says the Digimon-fanatic talking to me right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He snickers at the phone, and your heart swoons at it. It felt like you hadn’t heard that laugh in ages. “So…Is that a yes?”

It had you thinking for a temporary moment; talking with Gojo again just felt so…familiar. It was something you’d been missing for the past week, accepting that you’d never experience it again. And here he is, inviting you on a date? This was, by all means, a weird night. An apology, a confession, and now being asked out? 

Regardless, you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to be by his side again. And with a chance like this, why brush it off? “Yes, I accept your date.” 

“Then it’s a Valentine’s date. Cool.”

“Cool.” You awkwardly repeated after him, becoming squeamish with the brief silence. “Okay, well, now that we talked. I need to get some sleep.”

“Mmm, okay. Go get your sleep, then. Be sure to think of me in your dreams~”

Your head is shaken again, this time with a smile. “Whatever. I’ll try…Think of me too, Satoru.”

“I always do, Y/n.” Jesus, the way he gently and affectionately said your name. Is this what it’s like to admit you like someone? “Good night.”

“Good night…Oh, wait! You said you had a joke earlier.”

“Hmm…Oh, yeah?”

“Well, now that we’re kinda on good terms…What was the joke?”

“Oh! I was gonna say it’s kinda a shame that you’re sitting on a toilet and not on my face.”

“Goodbye, Gojo.”

“PFFFT, No, wait, I’m so—“

CLICK!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As far as dates go about, this is one that Satoru Gojo was the most nervous about. 

As promised, after your class with Professor Naga ended, Gojo waited for you with his car on Main Street by your dormitory. He was already dressed for the date, adorned with a black turtleneck and jeans that matched his Chesterfield coat. But you had a few things you wanted to touch up on before going out for the night, so he texted back that he’d wait for you outside.

What he didn’t expect was being instantly shot down by you once you came down and walked to his car. Because holy fucking shit, you looked so fucking beautiful. If this was a “touch-up,” all the people he went on dates on must’ve not been trying.

You were wearing a black halter long-sleeve top; your collarbone and shoulders were out for his eyes to trace and breathe to hitch. Your arms were shielded by a hoodie that looked a bit big for you but did its job of protecting you from the cold winds. And black thigh socks that contrasted with the plaid skirt and the puffy boots. And…did you put on lipgloss on? Holy shit.

“So,” you’d say meekly to catch his attention since he’s examining your every feature. “I’m ready…” They were simple words, yet they had the power to have him stop leaning on the car and grab the door for you. You were chewing on your lip, avoiding his gaze that watched every step you took. “You’re staring, Satoru…”

“Hmm? Oh! Sorry...” He’d close your door and mutter, scratching his neck where the heat from his ears crawled around. 

And from there, the date began. The plan? He wanted to take you to some fancy restaurant, but you politely declined and told him you’d settle for dinner and a movie. And you two did just that, going to this burger joint that was popping off when you entered. You two sat at a booth by a window, enjoying your food and conversing about each other’s day.

“You did not have to do that.” You said in giggles, bringing a fry to your mouth. 

“I did, too!” Gojo replied after taking a big bite from his burger. “The fucker almost tried to dirty my basketball shoes; do you know how much those shits cost? Expensive as hell.” 

“Yeah, but to push your buddy to an ice bath because he almost dirtied your shoes?” You shook your head with a smile. “And all shoes are expensive these days, Satoru.”

“Yeah, well, mine were custom-made. So,” he takes another bite. “Serves him right.”

Gojo didn’t notice it himself, but you saw a bit of ketchup on the corner of his mouth. Tending to your friend’s obliviousness, you grab a napkin and stretch to him. At first, he thought you were giving it to him to wipe it off himself; nope. You did it for him, tenderly dabbing the condiment off his lip. 

And you didn’t even notice what you were doing until your eyes met his, instantly pulling your hand back. “Sorry! You just…had something on there…”

“Mmm, thank you…” he said it low, but you heard him. What you couldn’t hear, thank God, was the beat of his heart going at an unsteady rate. It took a minute for you two to shuffle uncomfortably for the conversation to flow back.

After the dinner was the movie, a random action movie that you two felt interested to see. And it wasn’t that bad of a film; the plot was pretty subpar, the acting mediocre, but overall, a good movie. 

However, Gojo couldn’t focus on the movie for lengthy periods because his eyes would usually drift to the right of him where you sat, surveying how engrossed you were watching the film that you didn’t notice him. God, even in the dark, you looked so gorgeous and cute. 

Sometimes, he’d glance at your armchair and look at your hand, the inner dialogue between himself on whether he should go for it and place his hand on top of yours. But he doesn’t do it. He wants to, but he can’t, not like this. It was killing him so much; the feeling of wanting to touch you and have you against him again was haunting him — they’ve been haunting him for the past few days now.

“Fuck…” he’d mutter under his breath, but you wouldn’t hear because of the sound of explosions coming from the theater speakers. He wanted you but didn’t want to mess this date up. He couldn’t afford to screw this chance with you, he just couldn’t. 

Once the movie was over, he’d walk with you to the parking lot where the car was parked. The chill winds of February crawl up on your bodies, and you bundle up into your warm hoodie. “Did you enjoy the movie?”

He hummed with a tilted head. “Meh, I’ve seen better. It wasn’t too bad. What about you; you liked it?” 

You looked up to ponder and shrugged, swaying side-to-side as Gojo leaned on his car. “Yeah, it was okay. There’s better stuff out there.”

“You just saying that to agree with me?” 

“No, maybe you’re reading my mind and copying my answers.” You give a tiny smug look, only for him to smile along.

He then asks, “So…did I do good with this?” He can’t lie; how you lifted your brow instead of giving an immediate answer made him a little nervous. And with the tilt of your head and turning your body fully towards him, you knew you had him in the palm of your hand. You hand him your verdict:

“I think so. You treated me to good food, didn’t try to poison me, and got a free movie ticket out of it.” You jokingly punch his chest. “Yeah, I liked this date, Gojo. Consider yourself redeemed.”

He snickers lightly, “Good, I don’t think I can take another day of you being mad at me.” That made you giggle; good. Things go quiet for a while, and he averts his stare downward. His eyes land on your hand, the thoughts from the movie theater teetering back to his head. Goddamn it, he really wants to touch you—

“I can see you staring through those glasses, Gojo.” And just like that, you propelled your hand to link with his, making the tall boy flinch. “Your subtlety is wearing thin.”

Your teasing tone evokes a chuckle disguised in a sigh from Gojo, his fingers slithering to intertwine with yours. “What makes you think so?”

You peer up to him. Fuck, your eyes were so beautiful. “You were practically staring daggers at me while watching the movie. Am I on your mind that much?”

“Yes.” You expected a different answer – something more playful – and it’s why you couldn’t breathe after he brought his face closer to yours. “Infintely.”

Suddenly, the cold air didn’t bother you anymore. The heat on your face blossoms across your cheeks and ears while maintaining eye contact. “Am I on your mind right now?” He nods, your noses barely brushing each other. You whisper to him, “What are you thinking about?”

“I wanna kiss you.” He closes his eyes; you can see from his shades. “I want to hold you like I did before.” The hand clutching yours gets firmer. “I want you…Just you.”

The way he has with words effortlessly pulls you in, his voice comforting to the point you allow him to put his other hand around your waist. You faintly reply before connecting your lips with his. “I want you too…Satoru.”

When he pecks your lips, a feeling you two feared was wiped off the Earth returns to warm your bodies. Your hands instantly go around his neck like usual, sighing through your nostrils as you permit to sink into his hold and kiss.

Gojo uses this to bring his hand behind your neck to keep you on him, the kiss becoming more passionate by the second. He licks on your bottom lip, a sign of wanting entry. So, you open and lick him back before he takes the initiative to put his tongue inside your mouth. And you moan into his lips — fuck, how he missed the sounds you’d make for him. It felt like forever since the last time he heard them. 

This moment brings the spark between you two back, the sounds of the world around you drawing out from your space. All that mattered was you being in his embrace and him having you with him like this again. It all felt right — being with each other — with nothing bothering this peace meant for you two.

So much so that Gojo took it upon himself to convince you to stay with him tonight at a nice hotel close by, where you two couldn’t get off each other the moment you closed the door to your room. Hot kisses are exchanged as you two remove each other’s clothing, Gojo undoing your bra and lifting you to place on top of the bed. 

His lips never leave yours, even when his hands play with your chest. Your legs wrap around his waist to pull him closer as he rocks into you. Your core down south experiences throbs that entail you want him, your horniness dialing up with every grind of his groin.

He breaks the kiss to playfully bite your lip so he can hear you yelp for him, placing his lips from your chin down to your neck. You say in shaky breaths, “Hahhh, Satoru, please touch me more…”

He lifts his lips from your clavicle, “Of course, princess; you know I always got you.” He then licks from your collarbone down to one of your nipples in a tantalizingly slow fashion, your body squirming from anticipating what he’s about to do. His tongue finds its way to swirl around the bud, having your hum to the wet touch. And when he decides to suck it into his mouth when it’s hardened, you gasp. 

But it doesn’t stop there, one hand tweezing the other nipple as he licks around the one in his mouth. The free one snakes down your abdomen to your skirt, lifting the material for his digits to meet the damp spot of your panties. 

You jerk at the feeling of him moving the material to the side, rubbing his bare fingers on your precious, wet cunt and clit. “Ahhnn! Satoru, Satoru—Mmmm…” He rubs around on your folds in circles before adding his forefinger smoothly inside, his slender digit efficiently rubbing your vaginal walls have you holding back whimpers. 

When he thinks you’re ready enough, he adds his middle finger inside. Both his digits scrape and graze around your inner walls, provoking silent screams to leave your lips. Your fingers find his hair to tug, which only has him suck on your breast more. 

“Hooohhh, mmmmh…Right there, right thereee…please—Ohooo…!” You moan to him, your thighs jerking with every scratch of his fingers in your chasm.

“Mmm…you close, pretty?” Gojo releases your nipple for a quick second, returning it inside his warm mouth after he sees you nod hurriedly. “Hold tight, okay? Lemme get you ready, sweetie…”

You cry at the increase in speed, the nails of his fingers scraping the velvety tender spots inside you. Your body jerks to him as your hands find his shoulders to pinch on. Gojo lets go of your bud once again to move his lips down south, spreading your legs to take a look at your mess.

“Holy shit,” he says with a bitten lip before he crouches down to kiss your clit after slipping your panties off. “I fucking missed this pretty thing so fucking much.” He licks your soapy folds up to your clit, drowning the delicate button with feverish laps of the tongue. It has you screaming his name, and he loved that so fucking much.

Gojo stuffs his face to your slit, drinking your essence while teasing the clit with fast swipes. Your wails get louder and louder, and he doesn’t make it any easier when he keeps your legs spread for him to continue his work. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum, I’m—“Ahhahnn!!”

That’s when you come onto his face, your cunt spasming with electric pulses and your legs shaking with every hit of your orgasm. And he keeps on sucking and licking your fluids; you’d think he’s sucking the life out of you. But you can’t blame him; the boy is starved for you.

He soon withdraws his face from between your legs when you’re done with wailing and crying, licking his lips and leaving off the bed to take out a condom, throwing his jeans and drawls to the floor. But then something is wrong, and you can see it when Gojo presses his lips into a thin line before climbing back to the bed and maneuvers on top of you. He aligns the glans of his cock to the entrance of your vagina, and it’s there that you notice he doesn’t have the rubber on.

“I…I forgot to bring a condom, sweetie.” He says to you in a tune that harbors slight worry, and you can tell from his azure eyes that he’s a little nervous about this step. You held back a giggle; for once, he looked adorable when worried about something.

“…How good is your pull-out game?” You ask, half-jokingly.

His white brows trench together. “Are you sure?” 

You nod and kiss him on the cheek. “I trust you, Satoru, so just be careful, okay?” 

He blinks at you, taken aback by your lack of resistance. Yet, at the same time, he knew you needed this just as much as he did. So, with that in mind, he pushes the glans into you, observing your breathing to gauge how much to propel inside. The tip of his length then bullies itself inside you, a sharp gasp coming from your sweet lips while Gojo moans at the raw feeling of you around him.

“—Hnnn! H–Hooooly fuck,” with every inch he pushes inside of you, the sensation of your pussy chills him up his spine. The rubber had been shielding this away from him, every dent and smooth tissue of you wrapping around him. Oh, fuck, this was a dangerous game to play. “Oh, shiiit, you feel so fucking good..”

You could agree with that notion, experiencing his naked girth inside you for the very first time. You could feel his veins graze against your walls, the curve scraping your spots tenderly. “Ohhhh, fuck, you too, ‘toru…Oh my God…”

Even starting with slow thrusts was a hard card to pull, the subtraction of the condom making this feel so new and fresh — a scary dance to do with two young lovers. He pulls his cock slowly til halfway up the tip and then rushes it back inside to your wetness. Your pretty purrs fly out with every movement.

Gojo takes this time to look at you with your disheveled figure sprawled out for him to see and pick at like eye candy. Watery eyes batting up at him with pleasure behind half-lidded orbs, your chest that he loves so much out for him to give a nipple another tweak, and your legs curling around him as his tempo increases. You’re so fucking beautiful, and he’s so lucky to be able to have you under him again. He wouldn’t want it any other way — he wants to belong to you and you with him. It’s a dream he’d kill to have with you.

“Y/n…” he says your name in a shaky breath, groaning at your slit clamping onto him so suddenly. “Can I…Be your boyfriend?”

You didn’t have enough time to react appropriately because Gojo hammers his cock into you with no warning. You scream out for him to stop, to wait a minute so you can give an adequate response! But no, he ruts into you like his hips have a mind of their own, forcing you to cling onto him for dear life as the curve of his length jabs you in places that have you rolling your eyes to the stars.

“—Ahahhnn!! Ahhh! W-Wait, Satoruuuu!!” Your words slur out with a hot breath, drool coming down your mouth with no control. “You want me….Mmnph! To be your—“

“Yes! Oh, fuck…yes!” He says with no hesitation, slamming his pelvis down to your pussy so fast that his balls smack on your taint. Oh, fuck, this felt way too damn good! “I wanna be yours, and I want you to be mine—Hooooh….No one else’s…!”

“Nnahh…!! Ohhh, my God, fuuuuck…!” Your heart beats eighty miles per hour, your whole body endures heat shared with Gojo, and your thoughts travel too fast to keep up. He wants to be my boyfriend? He wants to be my boyfriend! “…R–Really?”

“Yeah, really, really.” He smiles breathlessly at you, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s be a couple, yeah? I want you so bad; you drive me so fucking crazy—Hannhh!! Shit, shit… I don’t want to hide this anymore — to hurt my cutie anymore. Let’s make this official so I can be with you without worries.” He snaps his hips harshly, grinding his pelvis with the flex of his abs, provoking more horny howls to seep from your puffy lips. He lowers to whisper to your ear while a hand clings to yours on the side. “Whatcha say, princess, hmm? Let’s be together….Hmmm…!”

Holy fuck, this is not a confession you were expecting while having your insides churned out, with your crush between your legs, in the middle of a hotel room, on Valentine’s Day. Your mind was getting foggy enough from the hot commotion in your inner thighs — now your head was filling up with fantasies of being with Gojo as a couple! This was beyond bizarre, something out of a fucking movie! 

And yet, you couldn’t find any reason to say no! There’s no denying it — those feelings Gojo had for you were the same as you had for him. You feel so happy being around him, in his hold, whispering and expressing his vulnerable side to you, and you’d want to throw all that away? Hell no! 

“—Mmm, yessss,” you can’t help but shed a little tear at him, to which he readily dries away with a thumb. “Yesss, Satoru, I wanna be yoursss — please…take care of me!”

Gojo slams his lips onto yours, your mewls taken by hungry lips while his strokes go at a rapid tempo. You almost choke on his spit from the way your clit catches abrupt hits from his pelvis, and the tip of his dick pokes your fragile spots with precision. 

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ! You felt it; it’s coming. You felt it in your bones, the shivers crawling up your spine as you inhaled to prepare. “Maahhh! ‘Toruuu, I’m gonna cumm…! Quick, pull out—Oooooo!!” 

Thank God you gave him a warning. The tall other was too lost in the feeling that he was just about to come inside you! He removes his body off of yours to swiftly pull his member out, using his hand to finish the job for him, although he already misses the warmth of your cunt. 

He comes at the same time as you, his load shooting out from his urethra and spilling onto his hand. White fluids slide between his fingers as he continues to stroke himself off while your legs twitch and your slit contracts and flutters on nothing, letting the wave of your climax pass on through with every howl. 

The air of the hotel room cools your bodies after disconnecting your sexes off each other, and huffs and pants from heaving figures are evidence of you two trying to find your balance in the world. Sky-blue eyes lock in with yours, and he laughs in faint puffs.

He crawls his way back between your legs after wiping his hand, placing kisses up your neck and chin. “Hahhh, fuck, that felt way too good.”

“Mhmm,” you hum with him, letting him place his head in the crook of your neck. 

“Hey,” he traces a finger along your collarbone. “Wanna skip classes tomorrow?”

Your eyebrows draw upward. “One day of Valentine’s isn’t enough?”

“Nope~. Plus, I wanna make up a week’s worth of not being around you.”

“Pfft, sure,” you stifled a laugh. “But you need a single day to do all that?” 

He lifts his head with a grin. “Well, we don’t have enough clothes to stay here until Saturday.” He maneuvers himself to lie on his side. “Why? You doubt I can do it?”

“You’re free to prove me wrong,” you give him a sneer. “I suggest you start getting to work.” You didn’t expect your words to flip a switch, causing the snow-haired other to grab you by the legs to him. He restrains your hands above your head, and you can’t fight the giggles from his playful manner.

“With pleasure,” he claims your lips again, your sweet murmurs entering his ears.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Psst, oh my God, do you see that?”

“Holy shit, this can’t be real!”

“Woah…Am I in the right universe?”

“Satoru, I told you people would stare…hurry and let go of my hand—“

“Nope! I like where your hand is right now~.”

It was like this the entire day. Ever since your Valentine’s Day date with Gojo, things instantly returned to where they were supposed to be and more! It was amazing how one day could make the bitterness of the weeks prior dissipate with the February wind. There was nothing to be scorned about —nothing to be scared of — everything felt clear to you and the person you were holding hands with.

After that date successfully went well — and won your heart in more ways than one, you’ll admit — you and Gojo decided it was time to unveil the status of your relationship. No more secrets, no more hiding feelings for each other; you two were officially a couple, both in private and outward!

Spending two days alone together felt like a dream, being so close to each other without worrying about being seen and critiqued in the eyes of others. But now, back on campus grounds, you can’t go back on your promise and have to walk with your cheeks and ears burning as Gojo’s fingers tighten the grasp around yours. 

Of course, the change of pace was a complete shock to the students and staff on this Friday. The number of perplexed gazes and starstruck figures who stopped to look at the two of you was too many to count — hell, you even saw Professor Gakunaji’s eyes widen for the first time! It was all so embarrassing, being the talk on everyone’s mind after keeping a low profile for so long. And here you are, holding hands with the star basketball player, the guy everyone knew assumed you couldn’t stand being within arm’s length with, and now, the boy you want to spend the rest of your college life with, Satoru Gojo.

Who, by the way, is loving every single second of this — of course he is, the fucking cheeky bastard! You don’t think you’ve seen his smile and dimples never leave his face for the entire day. He was stuck to you like glue, walking you to your classes and immediately returning to your side after his lectures ended like a happy puppy. He knew you were a little overwhelmed with it all, but that wasn’t a problem because he’d happily make sure you didn’t think you were the only one going through with this. Plus, you just looked so fucking cute looking all bashful around him now that he expresses his love for you publicly. I mean, the way you were in shock after he kissed you on the cheek after walking you to your second class of the day with Utahime? Oh, he wished he had a picture! Especially with your roommate’s jaw dropped to the floor (which never closed throughout the remainder of class as she just stared at you) after seeing the startling, romantic interaction.

And now, here you two go, walking out from your last class of the day with Professor Yaga — who was caught off guard when you two walked in together with a lovey-dovey (mostly on Gojo’s part) atmosphere but gave you a small smile as you walked to your seats (which were changed because Gojo pleaded you sat next to him from now on) as Haibara and Ijichi exchanged cheeky glances at the observation. 

You two were walking down to the dining hall, where you planned to have dinner with Shoko and Geto and tell the two best friends of Satoru Gojo of your intimate relationship. But gosh, everything was going too fast! “Hey, Satoru—“

“Yeeeess~?” He says in a sing-song tune, too pleased with himself as he swings your hand to and fro with his. 

“Do we really have to do this today? Why not eat with Shoko and Geto tomorrow—“

“Huuuh!!? But I’m taking you out tomorrow!” You want to hide your face when passersby hear your boyfriend’s reaction, immediately swapping gossip when they’re out of your vision. “Besides, they’ll be hella busy studying tomorrow at the library, so today was the best option.” 

You nod aimlessly. Ughhh, this is just too much. I feel like my head is gonna implode. Then, you felt Gojo grip your palm tighter and put your walk to a stop, prompting you to look up at him again. 

“Hey,” he says with his signature smile, his dimples becoming more prominent now that you’re gazing up at him. “It’s gonna be okay, alright? I got you, and you got me, right?” And he brings you in for a tight hug that has you squeaking and your lips quivering from hearing people gasp at the display of affection. “And now that I finally have you to myself — officially! — don’t think for a second that you can ever get rid of me!”

On the one side, you really want this fool to let go of you so everyone can stop staring and you can get this dinner over with! And yet, on the other side, your heart was beating in such a tune that had you melt into his embrace, and the smell of his cologne made you hum to his chest. You can’t seem to fight the smile growing on your face and your hands coming around to hug the white-haired, lovestruck fool back. “You’re too silly, Satoru…”

“Uhh, are we interrupting something?” 

With haste, you and Gojo break the hug to see the owner of that familiar voice. To your surprise, it was Shoko greeting you two with a smile. Next to her was Geto, also harboring a sly smile on his face before you. 

You cough to clear your throat away from Gojo, who sneaks his hand on your shoulder to keep you close. “H–Hi Shoko, Geto! I see you guys beat us to the dining hall.“

“Yeah, we were wondering if you two would make it. But now,” Shoko’s brown eyes venture from the figures of Gojo and you being close together, “I can see that you two wanted a bit of time to yourselves.”

“Uhhh, oh, you know; we just wanted to walk together since we had our last class for today!” You try to move your shoulder away from Gojo, but his grasp gets firmer and firmer.

Geto laughs, “Oh, no need to act so shy on us, Y/n! It’s good to know that you two are back to being close and cool now. Especially now that you two are a couple.”

“Ohhh, c’mon now, we’re not—“ you stopped, your body going rigid, and everything suddenly fell silent. “Wait….You knew?”

Geto hums as confirmation. “Yeah? Gojo told me.”

Your face forms into confusion. Gojo?

“Me?” Silver brows hang up at the statement. “I never said anything.”

Shoko makes a slightly bewildered expression. “What are you talking about? Remember that photo that you sent to Geto on Wednesday, and—“

“Woah, woah, woah.” Gojo’s fingers tense on your shoulder. Oh, he knows he’s in trouble. You can tell as he silently removes his hand while you question his best friends. “What picture?”

“Uhhh, the one he sent when you two were out for Valentine’s?” When we WHAT!? “Hold on, lemme pull it up from our messages…Yeah, this one.”

The moment Geto brings out his phone and gives it to you, Gojo felt his heart dropped to his ass. Not that you could tell, but the aura of fear was enough to be picked up. What showed on the screen not only had your jaw drop to your feet, but the cutesy feelings you had a minute ago with Gojo faded. Instead, it was replaced with the growing irritation that had your fingers tremble.

Geto’s phone screen displays a message and an attachment from Gojo on the night of your date. Judging by the time, it happened when you assumed you two were sleeping. The attachment proves your point, showing your sleeping face peacefully on Gojo’s bare chest. And the man in question is shown groggily awake, holding his phone to take the picture while his lips are planted on your forehead. The message below the photo answers Geto’s question, “Yo, you two made up already?” To which the taller figure says, “Yeah, kissed and made up. :3”

“Gojoooo….”

Before you do or say anything, your shaky hands return the phone to its owner, which Geto takes silently while backing three steps away with Shoko. 

“SATORUUUU!!!”

You yell out his name without a care for the people around you who immediately look at you. You turn to where he’s supposed to be — supposedly by your side. But you’re not surprised to see that he’s gone, turning your heel to find that the snowy-headed figure was backing up with his hands up.

“H–Hey now, Y/n,” He says nervously. He better be nervous because your eyes showcased a wrath he wasn’t ready for. “Calm down for me, okay, princess?”

“You…Are so…FucKING DEAD!!!”

And it was there that you chased him down, running around the halls. Geto and Shoko watch with baffled expressions before they scoff with laughter. The same goes with the other students who witness the commotion, enjoying the familiar banter between you two. 

It’s weird to say that you and Gojo are officially a couple now, at least to the public eye. However, no one seems to be in denial of it or push it aside. If anything, they seem happy for you two, finally coming around to express each other’s love for one another in a better way than insults and shouts.

And your friends can say the same, enjoying the change of ambiance whenever you two are in the same space. No more trying to ignore the rambles and arguments between you two, no more tired eyes rolling around their sockets when you call each other names. Because they know those will happen anyway; nonetheless, it’s now in a better light that the banner of young love is finally open and hanged.

 It’s a love that you and Gojo can finally express, be free, and be happy with.

“COME BACK HERE, SATORU GOJO!!”

“NO, YOU’RE JUST GONNA HIT ME!!”

And you two wouldn’t want it any other way. 

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[wonderjanga]

Billy and the Robins

Marvel has met all the Robins up until now. Like, let’s say Billy has been doing this for like eight maybe ten years. This Billy as Marvel met Dick a year before he became Nightwing, met Jason all the way through until his death, met Tim, and met Damian. He’s also been able to connect them to their new vigilante identities almost immediately. Now, Damian still is Robin and of course, Tim going from Robin to Red Robin isn’t too hard to figure out but I can see him doing this to the other two:

*Nightwing just joins the Justice League and all is looking swell so far. His first mission is with Captain Marvel and he remembers the dude being pretty nice. The mission goes well and they’re on their way back to the Watchtower.*

*Two are talking about whatever*

Marvel: *Pauses mid convo and stares at Nightwing a bit before he does a little finger snap* “Oh! That’s where I know you from! You’re Robin! Dude, it is so cool you became your own hero. The blue’s awesome.”

Nightwing: *Has a mini-heart attack* “Wha? Psshh… Dude, I’m not Robin.”

Marvel: “Uh… Yeah you are? You guys have the same” *gestures to Nightwing*

Nightwing: “The same what?”

Marvel: “You know. The same” *gestures to Nightwing again* Nightwing: “You do know that doesn’t tell me anything… right?”

or

*Zatanna, her father, and Constantine are unavailable to help with a magic artifact. This led Bruce to begrudgingly ask Billy for help. At the scene are Bruce, Billy, Damian, Cassandra, and Jason. Bruce is briefing them on something Marvel isn’t listening to as he stares at Jason trying to figure out why he’s familiar.*

Marvel: *cuts Bruce off* “Aren’t you Robin number 2?” *ignores the stares as he looks at Jason.*

*silence from literally everyone*

Marvel: “Holy moly. You’re like 6’2.” (He says as if his Marvel form isn’t like 6’11. I love freakishly tall Marvel) “You used to be so tiny!”

Red Hood: *Gets hit in the face with a flashback*

//Flashback//

(Recently adopted Jason)

Jason: *sitting on a couch in one of the Watchtower’s rec rooms eyeing a box of donuts on a coffee table.*

Marvel: *walks into rec room with the intent to steal said donuts as food for Billy. Sees Jason.* “Robin?” *Walks over.* “You look… different.”

Jason: *fumbling for words, slightly surprised a hero came up to talk to him* “Oh uh- I’m not Robin- Your Robin. The Robin that you know.”

Marvel: “Yeah, well, that’s kinda obvious. You’re all skin and bones, kid.”

*The joke was met with no laughs and a look of hurt.*

Marvel: “Not- not that I’m saying it’s a bad thing! As somebody who frequently lived on ketchup sandwiches and sugar water at your age,” (as if he isn’t still that age, and still lives like that) “trust me when I say, I’m not making fun of you.” *grabs the box of donuts and offers it to Jason* “Look, why don’t you take one of these, or maybe a couple. I saw you eying them when I walked in. I’m sorry if you got upset at what I said.” *really doesn’t want Jason to cry*

Jason: *grabs two donuts. Chocolate and strawberry* “Why?”

Marvel: “Why what?”

Jason: “Why’d you live like that at my age?” (He finds it surprising this guy, this hero, lived like that at some point.)

Marvel: *contemplates whether or not telling Jason is a good idea for like 3 seconds before he throws it out the window* “I was homeless.” *shrugs*

Jason: “Oh. Me too.” *nibbles on one of the donuts*

*After a while of awkward conversation, Marvel soon gets Jason to open up and they branch away from the topic homelessness and spiral into other topics. Jason goes back to Bruce with a smile on his little face*

*After that, and a couple more encounters between the two, Marvel was the first person Jason bee-lined too at the Watchtower. Of course, not before saying hi to Wonder Woman. Greek heroes hold a special place in his heart for some reason.*

//End of Flashback//

*Under the helmet, Jason’s face slowly reddens in embarrassment and he just facepalms, not caring that he hit the metal of his helmet as he went through memories upon memories of little him following Marvel around like a little duckling.*

[d-z20]

Neighbourly Care part 4 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You go over to Agatha and Rio's for help with your Spanish class and they do help but you also get taught another lesson

-OR-

Agatha fuck you in their home office (while you practice Spanish with Rio) and when you make a mistake she stops fucking you until you get it right.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, Top Mommy Agatha, Daddy Rio, more smut, orgasm denial (Rio), squirting, praise, slight degredation, strap on use, even more smut

Words: 4.6k and 80% is you getting fucked

A/N: This one's for all you burnt out gifted kids out there. Also, my Spanish really isn't very good, especially when I'm writing gn!Reader in a gendered language 💀 I'm sorry if it's jarring.

AO3 | Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 5 | 6 | Masterlist

It’s the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and you’re sitting cross-legged on your bed, a growing sense of frustration gnawing at you as you stare down at your Spanish assignment. Your sweatpants are cosy and your cropped vest keeps you cool, but none of it is helping you figure out why this language feels so impossible to grasp.

Your workbook lies open next to your laptop, half-hearted notes scrawled across the page. The conjugation charts mock you, the verbs swimming together into an indecipherable mess. You sigh, running a hand through your hair before grabbing your phone and opening up the messages.

MILFs Anonymous

~13:26

You: any chance i can come over for some help? 😩

You stare at the screen, gnawing at your bottom lip as you wait for a response. It doesn’t take long.

Agatha: Try again, darling.

You: uhhh

~13:28

You: Necesito ayuda con mi español. ¿Puedo ir a vuestra casa, por favor?

Rio: Claro que sí, cariño :)

Agatha: You used Google Translate, didn’t you?

You: Sí 😁

Agatha: We’ll be back from shopping around 4—come over then.

The messages bring a small smile to your face, despite the knot of nerves tightening in your stomach. You can already hear Rio’s warm, teasing tone in the words and Agatha’s steadier, more composed presence offering quiet reassurance.

Your mind drifts back to Thanksgiving dinner. You’d mentioned, almost as a throwaway comment, that you were struggling in your Introduction to Spanish class. It had been enough to spark Rio’s interest—her eyes lighting up as she eagerly offered to tutor you. Her enthusiasm had been impossible to resist, especially when paired with Agatha’s wholehearted support.

“You’re welcome over anytime,” Agatha had said, her voice kind but with an edge of finality that left no room for argument. “You’ll get the help you need.”

And now, here you were, agreeing to yet another visit, the prospect of being in their presence again already making your skin tingle.

The clock ticks on as you attempt to focus on your workbook, but your thoughts keep drifting back to the two of them. You wonder what kind of "lesson" Rio has in mind and whether Agatha will be there to offer her own... unique form of support.

—

When the clock finally strikes 4, you grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder, calling out as you head for the door.

“I’m going over to Agatha and Rio’s!”

Your mom’s voice floats in from the kitchen. “Okay, sweetie! Your dad and I are out with Aunt Carol for dinner, so we might not see you when you get back. Make sure you thank them for all their help!”

“Will do!” you reply, slipping out the door and walking the short distance to their house.

Your heart pounds as you approach the door, excitement and nerves intertwining. Before you can knock, the door swings open, and Rio stands there, her eyes lighting up as she sees you.

“Right on time,” she says, her voice a little higher-pitched than usual. She looks slightly flustered, a flush on her cheeks as she waves you inside. “Come in, come in.”

You step through the threshold, noting how Rio shifts on her feet like she’s barely holding still. She gestures toward the hallway, motioning you ahead of her.

“Agatha’s in the office,” she says, her words rushed. Her lips twitch into a quick smile as she guides you down the hall.

The office door is already open, and Agatha’s presence is immediately noticeable. She’s reclining on a sleek leather couch, looking effortlessly casual in a soft rust-coloured jacket and a white top. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and there’s a small smile on her face as she watches you enter.

“Perfect timing,” she says warmly, her tone smooth.

Rio closes the door behind the two of you, crossing the room to sit at her desk opposite Agatha’s. She moves quickly but jumps slightly when she sits, her hand gripping the edge of her desk for a moment as she adjusts herself in the chair. Her cheeks are still tinged pink, and you can’t help but notice the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead.

“You okay?” you ask, sliding into the chair at Agatha’s desk.

“Fine!” Rio chirps, her smile a little too wide. “Let’s get started, yeah? Verb conjugations—your favourite.”

She flips open her own notebook, launching into a rapid explanation of present-tense endings. You do your best to focus, but something about her energy feels off. Her breath catches occasionally as she talks, and her legs bounce slightly under the desk.

Behind you, Agatha doesn’t say a word. You can feel her eyes on the two of you; her calm, steady presence is a stark contrast to Rio’s restlessness. When you glance back at her, she’s lounging like a queen, one arm draped over the back of the couch, her lips quirked in a knowing smile.

Rio’s voice quivers slightly as she explains another verb conjugation, her hands fidgeting with her notebook as though it’s the only thing tethering her to the moment. You do your best to follow along, but the tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Alright,” Rio says, her voice pitching slightly higher than normal. “So for nosotros, hablar becomes—”

“They deserve a break,” Agatha cuts in smoothly, her voice like honey.

Rio immediately stops talking, her eyes darting nervously toward Agatha, who is now sitting forward slightly, her hand resting on her knee. She pats her lap, her lips curling into a gentle yet commanding smile as her gaze lands on you.

“Come here, sweetheart,” she says softly, the words sounding so innocuous yet carrying an undeniable weight.

You hesitate for a moment before standing, your heart thudding in your chest as you cross the short distance to her. Agatha’s hands immediately find your waist, guiding you to sit sideways in her lap. She wraps her arms around you, holding you close as she presses a kiss to your temple.

“Much better,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your skin.

Behind you, Rio shifts in her seat again, her breath hitching audibly. A quiet whimper escapes her, and you glance back to see her biting her bottom lip, her fingers gripping the edge of her desk like she’s barely keeping herself together.

Agatha notices too, of course. Her sharp eyes miss nothing. “Continúa mi amor,” she speaks to Rio, her voice low and lilting.

Rio blinks rapidly, her cheeks flushing even darker as she nods. “Sí, mi vida.”

She fumbles with her notebook again, launching into another explanation about verb conjugations, but her words are stilted, her voice trembling slightly.

Agatha’s hand rests innocently on your thigh at first, her fingers lightly tracing small circles through the fabric of your sweatpants. You try to focus on what Rio is saying, but the warmth of Agatha’s touch is distracting. The circles grow larger, her fingers inching higher with every pass, and soon you feel her hand creeping up toward the apex of your thighs.

Your breath hitches, and you glance up at her. “What are you doing?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha smiles down at you, her expression sweet but laced with something far more mischievous. “Teaching you a lesson,” she replies smoothly, her tone teasing. “I haven’t forgotten about yours and Rio’s little escapade in the hotel room that morning.”

Your eyes widen in realisation, and as you shift slightly in her lap, you catch a glimpse of her phone resting on the arm of the couch. The app open on the screen makes your stomach flip—it’s the controls for a long-distance vibrator. You glance at Rio, who is squirming more noticeably now, her breath coming in shallow pants as her eyes dart between you and her notebook.

“Rio is going to learn to keep her hands to herself,” Agatha continues, her voice low and steady. “And you, sweetheart, are going to learn to control yourself.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and you swallow hard as she gives you a gentle nudge. “Stand up,” she commands softly.

You obey, your legs shaky as you rise to your feet. Agatha’s hands find the waistband of your sweatpants, her fingers tugging them down with deliberate slowness until they pool at your ankles.

“Mmm, such a good pet,” she hums, her praise making your cheeks heat as you step out of the fabric and sit back down on her lap.

This time, she adjusts your position, guiding you so that you’re sitting more squarely in the middle of her lap. As you settle, you feel something hard pressing against you through her pants, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Now,” Agatha says, her tone deceptively calm as she leans back slightly, one arm draped possessively around your waist. “Let’s see if you and Daddy can do as you’re told.”

You swallow hard, nodding as you try to focus on Rio, who looks just as flustered as you feel. Her cheeks are tinged pink, and she avoids looking directly at Agatha’s hand, which rests high on your thigh. Rio clears her throat, her voice trembling slightly as she continues.

“¿Cómo se dice... they speak... en español?” She asks, gripping her pen tightly.

“Ellos hablan,” you manage to reply, though your voice wavers when Agatha’s hand starts to move. Her fingers trail lazily up your inner thigh, barely brushing the fabric of your underwear.

“Muy bien, cariño,” Agatha murmurs, her lips brushing against your ear. “But don’t lose focus now. Keep going.”

Rio nods quickly, her words spilling out in a rush. “Y... y cómo se dice... we are speaking?”

You open your mouth to answer, but it’s hard to form a coherent thought when Agatha’s fingers are now teasing the edge of your underwear; her touch so light it sends shivers up your spine. Your hips shift involuntarily when her fingers dip below the fabric, and Agatha hums in approval, her grip tightening around your waist to hold you still.

“Estamos hablando,” you finally gasp, the words barely audible as Agatha’s fingers press more firmly against you.

“Perfecto,” Agatha purrs, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “But you’re trembling, sweetheart. Are you sure you’re concentrating?”

Rio looks like she’s about to combust, her leg bouncing under the desk as she stumbles over her next question. “¿Cómo se dice... uh... you are speaking?”

You try to respond, but your voice falters when Agatha’s fingers begin to move in slow, deliberate circles. A soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and you feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“Focus,” Agatha whispers, though her actions are anything but helpful. “Vamos, nena. Dime la respuesta.”

You choke out, “Tú estás hablando,” but your voice is barely steady. Rio squirms in her chair, her breathing uneven, and her gaze flickers to Agatha’s hand for the briefest second before she looks away again, biting her lip.

“Very good,” Agatha praises, her voice sending a thrill through you. Then she taps your hip, her fingers stilling for a moment. “Lift up for me, sweetheart.”

You hesitate, glancing at her, but the look in her eyes leaves no room for argument. You rise slightly, your legs trembling, and she reaches into her waistband, pulling something out—a purple strap larger than the one she used on you before. She pulls your underwear to the side before guiding you back down onto her lap.

The moment you’re seated again, you can feel it—hard and unyielding—pressing deeply inside you. Your breath catches at the sudden, overwhelming sensation, and Agatha smirks, her hands settling firmly on your hips to hold you still, ensuring you feel every inch. The pressure against your walls is unrelenting, a heady mix of pleasure and control that sends sparks shooting up your spine. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, each shallow breath catching as heat pools low in your belly, threatening to consume you entirely.

“Now,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry, “let’s see if you can finish your lesson without completely falling apart. “Adelante, Río, y no seas fácil con les.”

Rio’s throat bobs as she swallows hard, her wide eyes betraying the tension coiling in her body. Her voice is barely a whisper as she continues. “¿Cómo se dice... we spoke?”

You open your mouth to reply, but Agatha’s hands begin to guide your hips in slow, deliberate movements, each motion sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. The friction is maddening, stealing the air from your lungs as a soft whimper escapes your lips. Your pulse thrums in your ears, and your thighs quiver, every nerve alight with sensation as you struggle to keep your focus, the words slipping through your mind like water through a sieve.

“Ha-habla…mos,” you stammer, but your voice is shaky and breathless.

Agatha chuckles softly, her lips brushing against your neck. “Otra vez,” she says, her tone carrying a hint of mockery. “Try again, sweetheart. Say it louder. Let Daddy hear you.”

Across from you, Rio is barely holding it together. She rocks faintly in her chair, her thighs pressing together as if seeking relief. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip, and her free hand grips the desk so hard it looks like she might snap the wood in half. Her breath comes in uneven gasps; a small whimper escapes her as she fights to maintain her composure.

“Vamos,” Agatha whispers, her breath warm against your ear as she tightens her grip on your hips, helping you grind down harder against her. The tension inside you builds with every slow, deliberate movement, your body instinctively chasing the friction. A soft, needy sound escapes you, and you shiver as her voice washes over you, low and commanding, grounding you even as she unravels you. “No te distraigas.”

You let out a shaky moan, your head falling back against her shoulder as the sensations threaten to overwhelm you. Your heart pounds, your skin is flushed and hypersensitive, and every touch feels amplified, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Words hover on the tip of your tongue, but they dissolve into broken gasps before you can speak.

Just as your eyes flutter shut, lost in the haze of it all, Agatha reaches for her phone with one hand, tapping the screen. 

“Ughhhh, Aggie, no,” Rio whines frustratedly, her body jerking slightly at the sudden loss of sensation. She glares at Agatha, who raises a single brow in amusement.

“No tan rápida mi vida,” Agatha says smoothly, her voice dripping with authority. “You’ll wait until I say so.”

Rio bites her lip, her cheeks flushed, and you can feel the tension in the room thickening.

But you don’t have time to dwell on it—Agatha’s movements beneath you are maddening, each shift sending a spark of pleasure through you that makes coherent thought nearly impossible. Her hips tilt upward slightly with each slow, deliberate thrust, the firm pressure pushing you closer to the edge with every pass. It’s intoxicating, the way her body presses into you, filling you with a deep ache that you can’t escape. You try to answer the next question Rio poses, but the words come out in a garbled mess, your focus completely shattered.

Agatha clicks her tongue disapprovingly and stills your hips with a firm grip. The sudden lack of motion leaves you aching, your thighs trembling as you try to shift for relief, but her hold on you is unyielding. The throbbing heat between your legs grows unbearable, each second of stillness stretching endlessly. The whimper of frustration that escapes you only earns you a soft mocking chuckle.

“¿Qué dije sobre enfocar?” She scolds, her voice low and commanding. “Answer Daddy, or we stop right here.”

Your face burns with embarrassment as you force yourself to focus, stumbling over the words as you manage to form a proper sentence. Agatha hums in approval, but she doesn’t let you move again just yet.

“Good,” she murmurs, her hand sliding up your side in a soothing gesture. “See? You can behave when you try.”

She waits until Rio asks the next question before finally resuming her movements. This time, her hips push up into you more deliberately, slow and measured, as if testing your resolve. Each thrust presses into the perfect spot, a deliberate rhythm that makes your breath catch and your knees tremble. It’s almost cruel how slowly she moves, dragging out every sensation until you’re teetering on the brink.

Rio’s eyes widen, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She clears her throat and stammers out the next question, her voice barely above a whisper. “¿Cómo se dice... they danced?”

You open your mouth to answer, but Agatha’s hands start guiding your hips again, setting a slow, torturous rhythm that has you clenching your teeth to stifle a moan. The friction is maddening, each grind of her hips sending shockwaves through your body that leave you gasping for air. You feel impossibly full, the steady motion of her beneath you making your head spin as heat coils tighter in your core.

“I—I don’t—” you start, but the words dissolve into a whimper as Agatha’s fingers slip under the hem of your cropped vest, brushing against your nipple.

“Don’t stop now,” Agatha murmurs, her voice like velvet. “You can do it, baby. Say it.”

Your answer is a garbled mess, barely comprehensible as you fight to stay coherent. The thrusts beneath you grow slightly firmer, and she pinches your nipple, drawing a broken cry from your lips. The steady pressure and her soft words blur together, leaving you utterly at her mercy.

Across from you, Rio is trembling, her fists clenched at her sides as she rocks forward slightly in her desperation. She bites her lip, her cheeks flushed as she tries to keep her composure, though her glazed-over expression betrays her struggle.

Agatha notices immediately. Her sharp eyes flick to Rio, and her lips curl into a dangerous smile. “¿Qué crees que estás haciendo, amor?” she says, her voice cutting through the tension in the room. “Stand up. Legs apart.”

Rio hesitates for a moment before obeying, her movements stiff and jerky. She stands with her legs spread slightly, her hands clenched into fists as she tries to keep still under Agatha’s watchful gaze. The air between the three of you feels electric, charged with an intensity that makes your skin prickle.

“Good,” Agatha says approvingly. Her focus returns to you, and her tone softens. “Now, let’s finish this lesson with one more question.”

Rio swallows hard, her voice shaking as she asks, “¿Cómo se dice... we ate?”

Your mind is a haze of pleasure and tension, the words slipping from your grasp as you struggle to focus. Each deliberate thrust from Agatha beneath you sends fresh waves of heat through your body, clouding your thoughts and making it nearly impossible to form words. Your hips instinctively try to grind against her, desperate for more, but her firm hands keep you in place, controlling every movement.

“Co-com—” you stutter, but you can’t get the syllables out.

Agatha stills your movements suddenly, her grip on your hips tightening as she tilts your head to meet her gaze. The abrupt stop leaves you trembling, every nerve screaming for relief as the tension in your body builds to unbearable levels

“No te distraigas,” she scolds gently, her expression calm but firm. “Answer Daddy. Now.”

The commanding tone snaps you back into focus, and with a shaky breath, you finally manage to stammer out, “C-comimos.”

Agatha’s lips curve into a satisfied smile. “Well done,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. Then her hands slide back down to your hips, and she resumes the slow, deliberate rhythm that has you gasping for air. This time, her thrusts are more purposeful, each one pushing you closer to the edge, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Your vision blurs, your body trembling uncontrollably as you give in to the sensation.

“You’ve done good enough, sweetheart. No more questions. Now it’s time for you to enjoy yourself.”

Her attention shifts briefly to Rio, who looks like she’s about to unravel completely. “You,” Agatha says sharply, her tone brooking no argument, “will stay exactly where you are. Don’t move. Just watch.”

Rio’s breath hitches, her body trembling as she nods, her eyes fixed on the two of you. Her gaze feels like fire on your skin, but you’re too far gone to care, completely lost in the steady rhythm of Agatha’s movements and the way she keeps pushing you closer, her voice a soft murmur in your ear as you come undone.

Agatha’s hands tighten their hold on your hips, her fingers digging in just enough to anchor you to her. The slow, deliberate thrusts beneath you become a little harder, a little deeper, and the sensation sends shockwaves through your body. Each motion builds the pressure inside you, pushing you closer and closer to a breaking point that feels just out of reach.

“Such a good little slut,” Agatha murmurs in your ear, her voice a molten whisper that makes your toes curl. “You’ve been so good, finally learning some control.” Her lips brush against the curve of your neck, and her teeth graze your skin ever so lightly. “I want you to fall apart for me. Completely.”

Your body arches against her as she begins moving you faster, her hips meeting yours with a precision that’s almost too much to handle. The heat pooling low in your belly threatens to consume you, each thrust sending sparks shooting up your spine. You can’t hold back the moans spilling from your lips anymore, the sounds filling the room alongside Rio’s uneven breaths.

One of Agatha’s hands slips between your legs, her fingers circling your throbbing clit as her other holds you steady. “That’s it,” she coos, her tone laced with both encouragement and command. “Cum for me, darling. Let it take you over.”

Her voice, her touch, her presence—it’s all too much. The tension that has been winding tighter and tighter finally snaps, and the release crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your entire body trembles as the pleasure surges through you, every nerve alight as you cry out, the sound raw and unrestrained. The slick evidence of your release soaks into the fabric of Agatha’s pants, sdrenching her completely and leaving a visible mess against her thighs. She doesn’t seem to care—if anything, it only makes her smirk widen, a flicker of pride in her darkened gaze.

Agatha doesn’t let up, guiding you through every second of it, her hands and movements steady even as your body shakes with the force of your climax. She whispers soft praises in your ear, grounding you as the intensity leaves you breathless and utterly undone. “Look at the mess you’ve made,” she chuckles, her tone almost teasing as her fingers trail lazily over the damp fabric. “Such a good little thing for Mommy.” Her lips brush against your temple as she slows her movements, her hands now soothing rather than controlling. “So perfect. I knew you could do it.”

You slump against her, utterly spent, your chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Her arms wrap around you securely, holding you close as you come down from the overwhelming high. For a moment, the room is quiet except for the sound of your breathing and Rio’s soft, stifled whimpers from where she stands frozen, obediently still but visibly affected.

Agatha strokes your hair, her voice a gentle murmur against your ear. “You did so well, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.” Her lips press against your forehead.

You let yourself melt into her, your body boneless and your mind hazy with satisfaction. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you register Rio’s quiet, needy sigh, but Agatha’s warmth and the steady rhythm of her breathing lull you into a calm, contented state.

She slips out of you and holds you tight, her hands brushing soothing circles over your back as she presses gentle kisses to your temple. When she finally moves again, it’s to slip one strong arm beneath your legs and the other around your back, effortlessly lifting you into her arms. You can’t help but sigh and rest your head against her shoulder, utterly spent but feeling safe in her hold.

As she carries you toward the bathroom, her voice cuts through the stillness, firm but not unkind. “Rio, my love, go order us something for dinner—whatever you want.” Her tone leaves no room for argument, and Rio, still flushed and squirming with pent-up frustration, lets out a soft, frustrated sigh before nodding obediently.

“Fine,” Rio mutters, her voice tinged with both respect and disappointment. You catch the faintest hint of a pout as she heads toward the kitchen, her steps slow and reluctant.

The bathroom is dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting warm light over the tiles. Agatha sets you down carefully on the edge of the tub, steadying you as she kneels to turn on the taps, adjusting the water until it’s just right. As the tub fills, she helps you undress; her touches gentle but reverent, as though she’s still savouring every inch of you even in this quiet, intimate moment. When she lifts you into the water, you can’t help but let out a contented sigh as the heat soothes your tired muscles.

Agatha slides in behind you, her strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you back against her chest. The steady rhythm of her breathing and the warmth of the water lull you into a peaceful haze, her presence grounding you completely. She holds you close, her chin resting on your shoulder as her fingers trace lazy patterns along your arms.

“You were so good for me tonight,” she whispers softly, her voice low and soothing. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” Her lips brush against your temple, and you lean into her touch, the quiet intimacy of the moment filling your chest with warmth.

After the bath, Agatha wraps you in a plush towel, her hands steady as she dries you off, and helps you into a fresh set of clothes. By the time you return to the living room, Rio has returned with bags of takeout, her flushed cheeks, and the subtle shift of her legs betraying her discomfort. Agatha smirks knowingly but doesn’t say a word as she settles you onto the couch, pulling you snugly against her side.

The three of you share the meal together; the atmosphere warm and comfortable despite Rio’s occasional squirming. She shoots Agatha a few pleading looks, but Agatha only raises an eyebrow in silent challenge, her arm tightening around you possessively.

“Eat,” Agatha says calmly, gesturing to Rio’s plate. “You’ll get what you need—just not tonight.”

Rio huffs softly but obeys, though her fidgeting doesn’t let up. You curl further into Agatha’s side, feeling utterly content as the soft hum of conversation and the flicker of the TV fill the room. It’s a quiet, peaceful end to a long, intense evening, and as you drift closer to sleep, you can’t help but feel grateful for the comfort of the two people by your side.

READ THE NEXT PART

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y'all already know what I'm gonna say... please reblog and comment if you enjoyed. I love reading what you have to say about it, it really makes my day <3

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[greenorangevioletgrass]

tuesday in the park (a.d.)

pairing: divorced!art x reader

synopsis: your alone time at the park takes an interesting turn when a little girl breaks the quiet, but maybe... her dad is a good company.

warnings: language, smoking, mention of divorce, lily is an adorable lil oblivious cupid, sooo much tension tho, maybe smut in future parts? idk

notes: i am back and pathetic bitch boy art has officially given me a brainrot. this is also very self-indulgent and heavily based on my irl experience (except the fact that it's art, sadly) soooo... enjoy!

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City parks are fucking depressing. Especially the industrial type that’s square, and covered in concrete and has, like, four trees. They’re all well-manicured and hung with string lights, but there’s still barely enough greens to call it a park. And to add insult to injury, a Tiffany’s installation art currently sits at the head of the park—a giant diamond ring in a lush velvet box the size of a Range Rover. It’s gaudy as shit, and the massive Aston Martin billboard overhead is an assault to the eyes. You honestly have no idea why you’re sitting here.

Oh, right. It’s like 2PM on a Tuesday afternoon in some downtown office area, so there’s nobody else there. You can just sit and smoke and watch the water spout from the ground in pretty patterns. The steady rhythm of the fountain jets quiets the chaos in your mind.

Inhale. Exhale. As the fountain hisses and ceases, hisses and ceases…

And then suddenly… another pattern.

A pitter-patter. Like little footsteps. Quick moving, and then it stops. Right to your left.

You turn your head and see a little girl sitting right next to you. Her white sneakers look so small next to yours. She pushes a lock of dark ringlets off of her face as she watches the floor fountain in quiet curiosity and awe.

It takes you a moment to realize you still had a cigarette in your hand. You quickly stub it out as far from her as you can. “Uh… hello.” You frown at your own words, but how the fuck do you talk to kids in this situation?!

But the kid looks up and smiles at you politely. “Hello.” she nods and then returns her gaze to the water bursting in canon.

You’re even more confused. She doesn’t even seem deterred by sitting next to a stranger—willingly, at that. “Well, are you… are you alone?” 

“No. With my dad,” she answers, light as a feather.

“Oh, good. Good.” You sigh in relief and look around for any sign of a parent, adult, anyone looking for a missing child. “Where’s your—”

“Lily! There you are!” A man’s voice cuts through the dull noise of the city. You turn around to see him rushing over to the little girl, grimacing apologetically at you. “Sorry. I’m not a negligent father, I swear. I just… turned around and this little monkey’s run off.”

The little girl—Lily, apparently— giggles as her dad throws her a look, gentle but firm. “You said we could watch the water fountains, Daddy!”

“Yeah, but don’t run off like that…” He rolls his eyes, though you notice his sharp jaw twitching with a hidden smile.  And then, leaning into Lily’s ear but still loud enough within your earshot, “And you certainly weren’t supposed to invade this nice lady’s personal space—”

“It’s no trouble. I was just sitting here,” you quickly wave him off.

“Daddy, can I play over there?” Lily points at the streaming water at the center of the park.

The man pulls a face. “I don’t know, Lil—”

“Come on, Daddy…” 

“No way.”

“Just for five minutes. Please?” She bats her eyelashes, and you can immediately tell it’s her father’s Achilles heel. Because as much as you try to stay out of the conversation, you can hear the audible sigh coming from him, followed by,

“Fine. Five minutes, okay?”

The little girl bolts off to the fountains, tiny hands reaching out to the jet streams, testing out how strong it is. Figuring out the fountain pattern and stepping on each jet right as it shuts off, one foot after the other. It makes you wish it was socially acceptable for adults to do that, too. 

“You’re free to sit and watch her from here, if you want.”

He looks at you, like really looks at you for the first time. At your rolled-up button-down, the chain around your neck with a pendant he can’t see under your collar. But mostly at your kind eyes—weathered, witnessed, but somehow not judging.

He pushes his short blond hair out of his face the same way the little girl does, and the similarity almost makes you laugh… if you weren’t so worried about making a fool of yourself in front of this handsome man. “You sure? I… didn’t want to intrude.”

You shake your head softly and scoot over on the steps, allowing him just enough space to sit down.

He notices the stubbed cigarette between your forefinger and middle finger. “You got another one on you?”

It takes you a beat to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh!” You reach for your pack of Camel, and offer it to him, one cigarette stick already pushed out for easier access.

He takes it with a polite smile, but then pauses upon realizing he has no lighter either. “Um, do you mind if I borrow—”

You lean in as he puts it between his lips, one hand cupping the light from the breeze, and his heart stops at how close you are. Close enough to notice the gloss on your lips. Close enough to get a faint whiff of your floral perfume.

(And unbeknownst to him, your heart stutters a little, too, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you fumble lighting your own cigarette.)

“Thanks, um…” he trails off. 

You tell him your name, and he repeats it almost thoughtfully. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s chasing the taste of your name as it leaves his mouth.

He nods. “I’m Art.”

He does look like it. The navy blue sweater hangs just right on his broad shoulders, understated but high-quality. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing a sleek black Piguet around his wrist. A simplicity to complement his refined features. His bone structure is cut like the gods, but the permanent frown etched between his brows, casting a shadow over his deep-set eyes, tells you that he is facing the troubles of man. And the awkward way he’s holding his cigarette makes him look like a boy. Of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with,

“Nice to meet you, Art.”

He can’t remember the last time somebody said that to him and meant it. And right now, sitting in this concrete park alone, he can see no pretense coming from you. No ass-kissing, no sizing-up, just a genuine kind gesture of a stranger. And it makes him so fucking relieved. 

“So what brings you out here?”

“Work, actually. A meeting,” Art replies somewhat vaguely. He’s not really keen on divulging the details of sponsorship and endorsement deals. Not when you don’t seem to know who he is. “Lily saw the park from the window and insisted we check it out when we’re done.”

“Ah, does she normally tag along with you to work meetings?” You ask with a playful glint, although the unspoken question of his whole situation is well heard. “She should. She looks like a great negotiator. Just saying.”

He chuckles. “Maybe she should. My, uh…” Art stops himself before he could say ‘wife’ because Tashi isn’t that anymore. Not his wife because they aren’t married anymore; not his coach either, because he doesn’t play tennis anymore. “Lily’s mom and I take turns every other week.”

And there it is. Your lips pull up into a soft line, not quite a smile but a gesture of understanding. “Must be tough.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a lot of changes. But she’s doing okay, I think…” Art pauses, “I hope.”

You follow his gaze and look at Lily, who must be playing some kind of Indiana Jones fantasy scenario with the water fountains. Not an ounce of care in the world. “She looks like a tough kid.”

“She is.” Art smiles bittersweetly. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to my sob story. What brings you to this park?”

The air that pulls both of you in releases, and you lean back on your elbows against the concrete. “Oh, I just finished work and I… needed some air.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an interpreter.”

His eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Like the Nicole Kidman movie?”

“Exactly.” You point your half-cigarette at him, and share a tentative smile with him.

“Do you do, like… high-profile, UN-related assassination investigations, too?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s not nearly as cool in real life. Most of it’s pretty boring, like contract negotiations and focus group discussions…”

“But the stories you must’ve heard, right? Or do you just… zone out at some point?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes you end up shutting off your brain and go on autopilot.”

“But not today?”

You smile ruefully at him, and he knows the answer. You take a thoughtful puff of your cigarette. “It’s… a bit hard when they’re talking about… how they had to jump off of the ship and swim across the channel in the dead of night, because they would rather die in the open water—a couple of them did— than die working in the fishing vessel…”

“Fuck.”

“And I know it’s not really meant for me—they’re talking to my client sitting next to me. But when they look you in the eyes and speak to you…” you trail off, taking a long drag of your cigarette.

Art takes it as a cue for his cigarette, too, although he notices you tapping the ashes off one, two, three times. “Must be tough.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him for quoting your own words back to you. “Ah well, it pays the bills. Besides, I get to clock out at 2PM on a Tuesday and enjoy this…” you inhale through your teeth disdainfully, “beautiful, brutalist… Soviet-core park.”

He laughs, the real kind of laughter that throws his head back, and it warms your heart enough to laugh, too. “It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”

“It’s bullshit! And what the fuck is that horrendous giant ring doing here?” The two of you cackle over the installation art across the park. “And that billboard… it’s ridiculous.”

Art’s laughter dies down on his lips as he looks up at the billboard in question. The Aston Martin “Game Changers” campaign from last year. Fuck. Even when he’s completely separated from Tashi, her presence still looms over like a panopticon.

You turn to him with a smile still etched on your face, completely oblivious to the storm in his head. “What?”

But he looks ahead, too caught up in the hurricane to hear you. He just… looks up at the billboard, his face darkens.

Oh.

You feel silly for not putting two and two together—you’ve been staring at the billboard mindlessly for a good fifteen minutes, goddammit— so you tread very carefully. “That, uh… Lily’s mom?”

Art looks down on his lap, as if not daring to look at Tashi’s picture. Or at Lily, or at you. “Yeah.”

There’s no right word for it. There’s no coming back from this, nothing he can say can make this better, and he can’t help but kick himself for fucking up. What he is fucking up, he’s not entirely sure. But he’s not ready to end this conversation with you, not on such a weird note.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like…” because you can’t. Losing a spouse is hard enough, but to have it out there in the open…

“It’s tough,” he nods in confirmation, and you smile feebly at his attempt at a callback to your little inside joke. To the moment where things are fine, all things considered. 

If the air ebbed and flowed earlier, it must’ve just… froze now. You don’t even remember the cigarette in your hand until the ash falls onto your hand and you gasp at the sudden heat, putting it out on the ground.

“I’m sorry. I should get out of your hair—”

“Do you wanna get a drink some time?”

The question catches both of you off-guard, eyes blinking at each other in shock. He didn’t think he heard you right, and your mouth seems to work faster than the filter in your brain.

Your face runs hot, and you chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry. You probably don’t wanna hear that—”

“I do.” He’s not sure which question he’s answering. Maybe both? Definitely both.

“Oh! Um…”

And right in that moment, Lily comes padding over with squelching steps in her shoes, completely drenched but over the moon. “Daddy, Daddy, that was so much fun! Can we come back here? I see lights on the floor, and I think the fountain lights up at night!”

Art puts out his cigarette under his shoe, chuckling at his daughter,  “Baby, you’re soaked! Did you try to take a shower there or something?” immediately wringing water out of her hair.

“I’ll take a real shower when we get home.”

“Well, duh. But I don’t want you to catch a cold… come here.” He crosses his arm to grab the hem of his sweater and tug it over his head to put it on his daughter.

The girl looks thoroughly unamused as the clothing item falls halfway down her calves and the sleeves nearly touch the ground. “Daddy, this is ridiculous.”

You grin, and you can’t help but wonder how much of that sass came from Art. “Looks pretty chic to me.”

He nods at you, glad that you’re backing him up. “Thank you.” He then turns to Lily pointedly.

Lily half-smiles at you. “Thank you,” although she still isn’t quite convinced.

“I’m sorry, we really gotta go. But how do I, um…” he trails off. Gosh, he was hoping to do this out of Lily’s sight. Lily’s sight means Tashi’s sight, and he’s not ready for that talk just yet.

“Take my card.” You whip out a neat stainless steel case, and slides out a white-and-blue business card. Your name is printed in a sleek black font, right above ‘Interpreter’ in a smaller case. Your email and phone number follows.

His fingers brush against yours as he takes it, and he prays to God or whoever is up there that he doesn’t give anything away to you or Lily. Not a quirk, not a peep. Just two strangers connecting by chance.

“Thank you.” He nods evenly as he pockets the card, trying to contain the butterflies in his stomach—he’s always thought he was too old for that by now, but maybe… just maybe… “You have a nice day.”

“You, too.” You squint up at him under the sun, and then smile and wave at the little girl. “Bye, Lily.”

She waves at you as Art sweeps her up into his arms, and you don’t let yourself turn all the way around to watch them leave. Instead, with one final look at Art’s “Game Changers” billboard ad in the distance, you grab your pack of Camel and light another cigarette between your lips.

[spinninhavs]

make you mine

matt sturniolo

ꜝ haven’s notes / when i can’t figure out what to write i look at madison beer’s discography and get to work . also sorry if this lowkey doesn’t make sense 😭

ꜝ genre / smutty smut

ꜝ pairing / bestfriend!matt x fem!reader

ꜝ warnings / first person pov, reader is a bit drunk, softdom!matt, bathroom sex, unprotected sex (don’t raw dog it), praise, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, hair pulling, degrading if u squint, not proof read, and pet names (baby, princess, angel, sweetheart)

unfortunately, nick had finally convinced me to go to the new hottest new club in downtown LA. he had been yapping to me about it even before he turned 21. so when i told him i would go, he was super excited. but now here i was, sweating from the heat caused from everyone dancing and jumping around.

before the chaos happened, i was a few shots down, just enough for me to be a bit tipsy. since everyone was pushing, shoving, and dancing, i quickly got separated from nick and chris. the club was packed since a famous dj was performing, i didn’t even know who he was anyway. but since it was so crowded i couldn’t even take my phone out and call nick. it was honestly super overwhelming. i push through the girls in skimpy dresses and the boys with unbuttoned shirts that were both glistening in sweat until i finally reached somewhere i could take out my phone. my sticky back pressed against the wall as i click call on nick’s contact. i waited for a few seconds before i was sent straight to voicemail. “great” i huff, putting my phone back in my tiny purse. i walk over to the bar that had a mini sort of line. “what can i get you?” the bartender asked me with a gentle smile. “i’ll just get a beer.” i smile back as i hand her a $20 bill. “you can keep the change” i say before grabbing the beer from her. i clicked it open as i look around the room, trying to see a familiar face. it didn’t take me long before i saw matt standing awkwardly against a wall.

i knew matt hated loud club parties like this, i still can’t figure out why he even came. i push and squeeze my way towards the brunette boy who had his hair sticking against his forehead. “matt!” i say over the music as i finally got to him. “oh hey” he smirked a little bit. “i can’t find nick or chris, nick isn’t responding my calls.” i say, standing next to him. “i can’t find them either, can i get a sip?” he cocks his head towards the beer can in my hand. i hand him it and he basically drank almost everything. “matt!” i giggle while slapping his chest gently and grabbing the can back. he laughed it off as i take a small sip. the blue, purple, and black flashing lights were almost blinding me, my eyes squinting a little bit to manage my vision. “i wanna leave” i sigh softly, feeling his arm swing around my shoulders. “me too.” he mumbled before grabbing the beer again and drinking the rest of it. “dude! you owe me $20.” i pout while taking the now empty can and shaking it around to hear nothing. “i’ll pay you back soon sweetheart” matt smiled while looking down at me. the beer and the shots already started making its effect on me, moving me from being tipsy to drunk. i smile shyly at him before i drag my attention back to the large amount of people. i didn’t even know what i was looking for, my mind was blurry and my vision wasn’t the best too. “wanna dance?” i ask him while tossing the empty beer can in the trash. he nodded with another soft smirk. “im down.” he replied, grabbing my waist and gently. matt pulled the both of us into the sort of middle of the club.

it was a bit spacious so we could dance freely. i spun around and i got surprised when matt grabbed my hips. since my mind was still fuzzy and i had no clue what i was doing, i decided to start grinding my ass on him. i could hear him laugh faintly as i did so. i look over at him from over my shoulder and smiled gently. i turn back around and before i knew it, he closed the space between us by kissing me. i didn’t know how to react. i wouldn’t say he’s a bad kisser, but he’s my bestfriend’s brother. i place my hands slowly on his face and i kiss him back gently. he pulls away for a second before looking down in my eyes. i giggle at him before leaning up to kiss him again. matt ran his hands down my body and stopped on my ass. “matt” i mumble while pulling away. “what?” he smiled back at me. “can we go to the bathroom?” i say softly, but loud enough for him to hear me clearly. he nods rather eagerly before wrapping his arm around my shoulder to protect me as he pushed through the large groups of people. we got to the bathroom, which was gender neutral so that was perfect. as soon as matt closed the door he quickly placed his lips on mine again. my tongue grazed over his bottom lip lightly before he took my tongue into his mouth. we could still hear the faint music in the back but our heavy breathing masked over it. thankfully, the bathroom wasn’t disgustingly dirty, it was very clean surprisingly. his hands ran up and down my body while he struggled to find the zipper of my dress. “wait—we—are—gonna—do—this—here?” i ask in between kisses. he pulled back slowly. “would you rather do it in the car?” he asked while tilting his head to the side. “im good.” i giggle before i went back to kissing him. my body pushed against him and my hands guided his to my zipper. he eagerly pulled the zipper down and put my dress to my torso.

“so pretty.” he whispered while trailing soft kisses along my neck. i paw at his shirt that had the first two buttons already undone. he pushes me back against the bathroom sink that had a small counter. matt helped me take off my panties and he put the small article of clothing in his back pocket. he pushed the small zipper of his jeans down before he unbuttoned them. i watch him in awe as he pulled his jeans to his mid thigh. he grabs my hips and turns me around gently so im now looking at ourselves in the mirror. he slowly pulled down his boxers, i felt his tip slap my pussy lightly. he runs the tips of his fingers through my glistening core. i shiver to the feeling, making him giggle a bit. “all worked up already?” he taunted. i nod slightly, still watching him from the mirror. he aligned his tip with my entrance and easily slipped in. i whine a bit as i adjust to his size, he planted a small kiss on my shoulder as i did so. after another minute or so, he started to move his hips against my ass slowly. i til t my head back slightly so he could place his chin on my shoulder. matt’s tattooed arm wrapped around my waist so he could hold me in place. “look at you, taking your bestfriend’s brother so well.” he cooed in my ear as i clam around his cock tightly. my jaw goes slack to his slow but sharp thrusts. i moan out a small ‘fuck’ under my breath, my head falling forward in pleasure.

matt used his free hand and pulled my hair up in a makeshift ponytail, forcing myself to look up into the mirror. “want you to see yourself getting fucked.” he whispered softly, his arm wrapped around my waist moving down to toy with my clit. i let out a choked out moan as i felt him in my stomach basically. my eyes flutter shut to the overwhelming pleasure. his hips snapped harder against my ass now, my velvety walls squeezing around him perfectly like a glove. “mmh fuck” i whimper, my face contorted from how good he was making me feel. the brunette boy groaned softly in my ear as his tip kissed that sticky patch that sent me right over the edge. my knees buckle, struggling to keep me up from standing. his slender digits continued to toy with my sensitive bundle of nerves that made me whimper nonstop. the small bathroom filled with the sounds of my pussy suctioning his cock and my pathetic little squeaks, mixed with the faint loud music coming just from right outside. “doing so good f’me angel.” he moaned softly. “‘m close.” i whisper from under my breath as his pace starts to fastened. “you can last a little longer f’me, right baby?” he whispers into my ear, his lips grazing my earlobe slightly. i nod quickly, not really sure how much longer i could last.

“i need words princess” he groans quietly, making me let out another choked moan. “yes” i say breathlessly as he let go of my hair. “atta girl.” he hummed, both of his hands resting back on my hips. i saw him look down in awe at the recoil of my ass hitting his pelvis, just for him to start thrusting more sloppily into me. “mmhh can i cum? please—“ i beg as we make eye contact from the mirror. “hmm” he hummed gently, just to taunt me a bit more. “alrighttt, cum for me sweetheart.” he laughed cockily. my lower abdomen muscles tightened as the pit in my stomach quickly disappeared. i came on his cock but, he didn’t stop. my eyebrows knit together from the slight overstimulation i was receiving. “‘m almost there.” he grunted under his breath. before i knew it, he stopped his hips deep inside of me, painting my gummy walls white. he panted softly before pulled out, letting the mixture of our cum start oozing out of me. “i told you i would pay you back.” matt teased as he reached over to grab some toilet paper to clean me up. “didn’t expect you to pay me like this.” i laugh at him while i start to fix up my hair.

ꜝ taglist / @flouvela @strnzzvsp @mattscoquette @mattsluttywaist @sweetstars-posts @submattenthusiast @xoxo4chrisss @conspiracy-ash @mxqdii @deftonesmatt @bambi-slxt

[covenofagatha]

Do I wanna know? (Part 3)

Agatha and you have a talk about the future

Word count: 4k

Warnings: 69, oral, smut, angst (hopefully not as much), why would you ever talk about feelings/problems when you could just fuck instead

“What? What part?” you ask, your voice sounding unfamiliar to your own ears. “If it’s the City, it’s fine, that’s not far away, you could even stay here.” 

Agatha purses her lips. “It’s in Albany.” 

Your stomach drops. Two hours away by car on a good day, about four by train. Agatha has a pitiful look on her face and you want to scoff. 

Of course she’s feeling sorry for you. 

“Honey,” she starts, cool and calm as ever and it makes you fucking enraged. She reaches out to touch you again — why does she keep trying to do that? why doesn’t she realize that she isn’t going to fix anything? — but you shove her aside and scramble off the couch, beginning to pace with your head in your hands. 

Is this better than the affair? She still lied to you. She still didn’t tell you about it, she’s still looking to get out. “Why didn’t you say anything?” you demand, pausing to look at her. 

Her jaw tightens. “I didn’t — I didn’t want to before it got real. I wasn’t even sure I was going to go, but my friend reached out and it’s a really good opportunity. The company took me out to dinner last night as an informal interview and I ended up staying the night. I didn’t think you’d come here, I thought you were mad at me or something. Baby, I was really worried about you.” 

In any other situation, you’d feel touched by her concern, but it really just pisses you off even more. This isn’t about you. “I thought you were having an affair,” you say again and her face falls. 

“I would never—”

You don’t even want to hear it. “Look, don’t change the subject, okay? The point is, you did this huge thing without even telling me and now — what? You’re moving to New York?” 

Now she seems unable to meet your eyes, an uncharacteristic shyness radiating off her. “I haven’t even gotten the job yet.”

Your mind starts to whirl with the possibilities. “If you get it, are you going to take it?” 

There’s a thick silence that hangs over you two for a moment and you can see the vein in her forehead pulse as she thinks about it. But her hesitation is all the answer you need. 

“Okay,” you breathe. You don’t even know where your head is at — you’re so fucking mad, but you’re also so relieved that she isn’t cheating, but then now there’s this wrench that could possibly mean the end of things. You’re not going to let that happen. Dropping to your knees in front of her and finally touching her of your own accord with your palms flat on her legs, you earnestly look at her. “We can…we can figure it out, we will figure it out. I can come down on the weekends or you can come here or — I can transfer! I’ll transfer to somewhere in New York and we can get an apartment, just the two of us, and obviously I won’t be much help with the rent because it’s expensive as shit there—”

Agatha pulls you up by your cheeks and kisses you, effectively shutting you up. You lose yourself in the feeling of her lips against yours and you moan softly, everything slipping away for just a moment. In these five seconds, it’s just the two of you and nothing else can come between you. 

But then she breaks away and sighs heavily, resting her forehead against yours. “You just started school here,” she says gently. “I can’t make you give that up. Don’t you like it?”

You shrug lazily. “It’s the first week. I’m not too attached. I’m sure somewhere there will be just as good.” 

“What about your parents? What would you tell them?” 

Why does it feel like she doesn’t want you there? You can’t help the frown tugging on your lips. “I’ll just say that I don’t like it at Westview. I’m sure I can come up with something. They’ll just want me to be happy.” Agatha makes you happy, but there’s a flicker of doubt growing in your stomach.

She cups your cheek and leans back so you’re able to see her eyes. They’re blue as the ocean, full of emotion, and glassy. “Why don’t you give it a few months, hm? I don’t want you to throw away your school and your family just for me. If you really don’t like it, then we can talk.”

“What if I just drop out of school and become your trophy wife? I’ll be such a good one, I’d wear nothing but an apron all day and make your favorite foods and then I can sit on your strap while you eat dinner.” You play it off like a joke, but deep down, you would be more than willing. You hope she says yes. 

Agatha huffs out a laugh and sniffs, tracing a finger down the skin of your face like she’s trying to memorize it. “Wear a short little maid outfit that just happens to ride up and show off your bare cunt when you’re on your knees cleaning the floor?” 

You hum and close your eyes in pure bliss at the thought. “See, now you get it. It would be so perfect, right? 

“So perfect,” she agrees, but her smile lingers until it’s wistful. There’s a longing pang inside you, one that threatens to tear you open, but you push it down. “I know I haven’t gotten it yet, but I won’t take it,” she says quietly after a moment and your brows furrow in confusion. “If you don’t want me to take it, I won’t.” 

Every single morsel of your body is screaming for you to ask her to stay. It would be so easy, and then you could just pretend that none of this — the suspicion, the lies, the sneaking around — never happened. Everything could go back to the way it was before. 

But the slightest fear that she would start to resent you for it creeps into the back of your mind. Sure, she might not mind at first, but over time when her job here gets old and she’s unhappy, she’s going to blame you. She’s going to start to hate you for holding her back, and what if you’re not worth it? 

The last thought hits you like a punch to the gut. Are you enough to keep her content if she stays? Are you enough to keep her happy? 

You’re paralyzed and she’s looking at you expectantly, like it’s an easy fucking decision. You want to complain that it’s not fair for her to put this on you, that she should want to be with you so badly that she willingly gives up the new position for you, but maybe she’s having the same doubts.

The only thing you know is that you don’t want to end up like your parents, with a loveless marriage and a cold, empty house despite the family living in it and the bitter silence of words left unsaid haunting every moment. You don’t want this to become an open wound that festers until Agatha hates you for it. 

“If it’s a better job and if you want it, you should take it,” you say, almost surprised by how eerily calm your voice sounds. 

Agatha looks taken aback for just the slightest moment but nods. “You’re sure?” 

No! Stay with me! I fucking love you! 

“Yeah,” you rasp and she bends down to kiss you again, so sweetly that it hurts. She murmurs something against your lips but you don’t even think to ask what she says because you can’t stop the nausea climbing up your throat. 

You jump back and run to the bathroom before vomiting in the toilet. You sink to the floor, shaking and sweating and trembling, and you’re vaguely aware of Agatha’s hands in your hair, holding it back, and telling you that everything is going to be alright. Is it?

She gets a wet washcloth and holds it against your head while you don’t move from your position, waiting to see if you have to puke again. 

“Had too much to drink last night,” you mutter, feeling like you’re drunk all over again, when she asks if you’re feeling okay. “Thought you were cheating.”  

You hear a heavy sigh behind you and tears prick your eyes. Is she disappointed? Does she think you’re being just a stupid kid? “I wouldn’t, honey. I wouldn’t do that. I promise. I—” She stops and strokes your hair instead.

It feels like there’s something she’s not saying, but maybe you’re just reading into it. 

And then there’s your I love you while she was fucking you, still fresh in your mind. Do you say it again? Do you ask if she heard it? Or just wait until she says it first?

If she does. You can’t get these stupid insecurities and doubts out of your mind and it’s killing you. 

“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up again?” she asks gently and you shake your head. “Come on, why don’t we get you into the shower and then into bed?”

You want to protest just to be petulant, but you’re just so fucking tired. “Okay, mommy,” you say and she sharply inhales, but pretends to be unaffected. Good to know that you can still get to her after you look like you’ve just been through hell. 

She turns the water on and you numbly wait until she guides you up and helps you undress before you step into the shower. You almost buckle to the ground but Agatha holds you up, the sleeves of her blazer getting soaked, but she doesn’t even notice it. 

It’s an awkward position, her on the outside of the tub and you barely standing up inside it, but she rubs your skin and you slowly feel warmth returning to your body. 

You’re about to ask if she’ll get in with you — you see the way she can’t stop looking at your tits and you’re suddenly longing to feel her on you, a reminder that she is yours — when a phone rings. 

Definitely not yours; your phone is always on silent. 

Agatha curses and tells you she’ll be right back before disappearing from the bathroom. The cold feeling starts to grow back in your stomach, creeping up to your throat and gripping tightly. 

“Yes — this is she!” you hear her say from the other room, her voice getting louder as she comes back into the bathroom. You look at her with wide eyes and she gives you a tight smile. “Oh, I did? Well, thank you very much, that is wonderful news.”

The person on the other line starts talking and you can only catch quick muffles of it, but from Agatha’s face, you already know. 

“Of course, yes, hang on just one second,” she says and presses her phone against her shoulder to give you her full attention. Eye contact with her feels like a stab to the gut. “Honey, are you sure you’re okay with this? You can say no.” 

Can you? 

It’s on the tip of your tongue — it would be so easy to ask her to turn it down, so easy to ask her to choose you. She’s waiting for an answer but each drop of water on your skin feels like a chant: no. no. no. You know Agatha’s trying to remain neutral, but you can tell she wants the job, by the way she’s twitching her fingers and the barely concealed pleading look on her face and the way she’s holding her phone so tightly it’s making her veins pop out all bluish and purplish. 

It’s clear that you cannot say no. 

You’re not sure she would ever forgive you, and you’re not sure you would ever forgive yourself. You can’t ask her to throw away this opportunity, not for you. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you say hoarsely, feeling a lot like you just signed a death warrant. 

But plenty of people do long distance, and two hours really isn’t that bad. Plus it just means that with all the waiting, the sex will be even hotter. Her moving away doesn’t mean anything. 

And you can transfer at the end of the semester, so really you just have to make it a few months. 

Agatha’s beam is one of pure gratitude and you know you made the right choice, but she’s back to talking on the phone and your little moment is interrupted. “Oh…two weeks? Of course, I can totally do that.” 

A flash of panic bolts through you and you mouth two weeks? at her. She purses her lips and shrugs apologetically, like that’s supposed to make you feel better. 

The rest of her phone call is blurred out by your sudden inability to hear anything but the rush of the water that has suddenly become so loud it’s taken over all your thoughts and you don’t even realize that she’s hung up and cleaned you off and gotten you out of the shower until you’re shivering and naked and Agatha’s wrapping a towel around you. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” she murmurs because you’re now uncontrollably shaking and you think you might be crying a little. “Everything’s going to be okay.” She presses kisses to your forehead and cheeks and nose, muttering the same sort of sentients, while the towel around you slips to the floor when you throw your arms around her and cling to her like she’s your lifeline, like she’s everything you’ll ever need, and she holds you back so tightly you think you might fuse into one being. 

The two of you stand there like that until your skin gets clammy and pruney and your eyes are raw. When you finally pull back, your muscles ache and the front of Agatha’s clothes are absolutely soaked, so you tug on them until she gets the message and begins to strip. 

Her blazer comes off, and then she untucks her blouse from her pants and slowly begins to unbutton it, each time revealing more of her perfect pale skin. You can see the faint outlines of her ribs and then her stomach, the red bites from two days ago still there, albeit faded. 

There’s no mistaking the “M” though. A hot thrill runs through you despite the solemn air between you and a fire starts to flicker to life in your stomach. You reach out to trace your mark as if in a trance and Agatha’s breath hitches. 

Swallowing roughly, your eyes dart up to meet her already-dark ones. “We should talk about the job, right? Figure out what it means for us?” you ask, but even as the words leave your mouth, you can feel the atmosphere shift into something else. 

“Right,” Agatha nods, but she can’t stop looking down at your pebbled nipples — from the cold or from her? 

When she surges forward, clasps your cheeks, and pulls your mouth to hers, you know that it’s both. The kiss is messy, teeth knocking against each other and her tongue invading your mouth and breathing each other’s air, and you wrap your arms around her neck to bring her even closer. She didn’t get to take her pants off yet, but it feels absolutely delicious when she slides a thigh between yours and you grind down onto it. Your nipples brush against the fabric of her bra and you can’t help but moan into her open mouth. 

Fire roars beneath your skin, spreading to all over your body, and you suddenly just need more. You need her to overwhelm all your senses until you can’t fucking think about anything else, not the job, not her moving, not the fact that you could’ve stopped this but didn’t — you just want her. 

She grabs onto your hip to guide you against her leg and you whine as she sucks on your tongue. Her other hand comes up to cup your right breast and roll your nipple and you mewl and jerk against her. She tugs and it feels directly connected to your cunt because you pulse and it only gets worse when she flexes her thigh underneath you. 

“Bed — bedroom, please,” you choke out and her mouth doesn’t leave yours, walking you backwards into the bedroom and not stopping until the backs of your knees hit the bed. 

Agatha pushes you down onto it, the duvet beneath you instantly getting wet from your dripping pussy, and she shimmies off her pants and underwear and sinks to her knees in front of you. It’s a sight to behold, her looking up at you from the floor like she wants to devour you, like she would hang the stars and the sun in the sky for you and it still wouldn’t be enough. The power running through you from the heat in her eyes and the ragged heaving of her red chest and the way she tosses her hair over her shoulder is enough to drive you mad. 

“You’re so perfect,” she breathes and it only makes you wetter. You buck your hips against the bed, trying to get some stimulation to your now-aching clit, but it’s not even close to enough. 

But it’s not even five seconds later when she leans in, inhales the scent of you deeply, and then drags her flattened tongue through your folds, making you keen and arch your back. She is so good with her mouth and she never fails to remind you. 

“Fuck, Agatha,” you gasp, and you usually don’t call her by her name during sex, normally opting for mommy, but you need the intimacy right now. You need to feel like this is real. 

She groans into you and teases her tongue around your clit, never quite touching it, and you bury your fingers in her hair and gently pull on it. Her eyes flick up to yours as a warning and you loosen your grip. Agatha gives you an almost imperceptible nod and rewards you with one long lick to your clit and your head falls back. 

You can no longer hold yourself up when she thrusts her tongue inside you, and you fall back onto the bed, instantly clenching around you. She feels so fucking good, her tongue curling inside your cunt and her nose brushing against your clit, and you angle a leg up on the bed so she can reach deeper inside you. “God, yes,” you sigh, and your orgasm is slowly starting to build up with each roll of your hips and each time your stomach tightens. 

But something is missing — you can’t help your thoughts from straying and you just need more. 

So you stop her and she looks up at you, the entire bottom half of her face and nose absolutely covered with you. Your clit throbs and you sit up.

“I need — I want — wanna taste you too, Aggie,” you whine and you’ve never used that nickname before, but you think she likes it because she lunges up, capturing your lips with hers again, and knocking you straight back onto the bed. 

She nods while still kissing you, whispering, “Fuck, honey, how are you so hot? How are you so perfect for me?” 

You clench around nothing and you claw at her shoulder blades frantically, knowing what you need but not how to ask for it. 

But Agatha knows — she always knows what you want, except for when it really counts apparently. She gets off of you and scooches on her knees until she’s situated behind your head, facing your body. And then she moves to frame your face with her thighs, her glistening cunt hovering right above your face, and she bends over to pry your legs open before leaning down and sucking on your clit roughly. 

You squirm and palm her ass to pull her down to your mouth, and at your first lick through her folds, she moans right into you, the vibrations making you jump. Eating her out while also being eaten out is an experience like no other you’ve ever had. Every single thing you do to her affects her, which in turn, affects you. 

The positive feedback loop has both of you sloppily mouthing at each other’s cunts, mimicking motions while also losing all sense of rhythm, and when she digs her fingernails into your thighs and scrapes her teeth against your clit, you let out a high-pitched sound that has her riding your face furiously. 

Agatha is getting louder too — you can feel it more than hear it, and you are completely drunk on her smell and her taste and how good she’s making you feel. You dip your tongue into her entrance, stroking against her convulsing walls before swirling around her clit and she pauses what she’s doing for a moment to just breathe heavily against your pussy before diving back in. 

All thoughts of anything else are completely out of your foggy mind and you feel like you’re floating, not able to focus on anything else besides Agatha. 

If you would’ve known that your dad having an affair would have led to you having the hottest sex with the hottest woman ever, you definitely wouldn’t have been so mad about it. 

“Oh, god, baby, you’re so good,” she says into your cunt and it only makes you grind up harder. She matches your intensity, riding your face fast, her clit dragging against your tongue. You groan in agreement and her stomach glides against your nipples while hers do the same and you know that it won’t be long before either of you cum. 

She nips at your inner thigh before plunging her tongue inside you and it has your hips bucking. “Fuck — Agatha,” you cry, barely able to keep eating her out because of how stimulated you are. Pleasure is racing through every ridge of your body and your head is spinning. 

“That’s right, honey,” she pants, lathering her tongue all over your clit. “Cum for me.” 

The tension inside you snaps and you cum, riding out the immense wave as she continues lapping at you and you suck on her clit, triggering her own orgasm. There’s a gush of wetness all over your face and she keeps rolling her hips, chasing the last tendrils. 

That was one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had, you think, and when Agatha flops down onto the bed next to you, breathing heavily, you think she might agree. 

“Fuck,” you say, completely wiped out, and Agatha chuckles weakly in response, reaching a hand out to rest her fingers against yours, not quite interlocking them. The two of you lay like that for what feels like forever, just soaking in the silence and the comfort of being right next to each other. 

You’re not sure who moves first — maybe it’s a mutual decision, but eventually you slide up to the pillows and Agatha turns around and moves next to you. Rotating onto your side, you hear the sheets rustle behind you and right on cue, Agatha’s arm snakes around you, holding you close enough to her that you can feel her heartbeat against your back and her breath on your neck. 

She kisses the top of your ear and you snuggle back against her. You know that you should put on clothes and clean up your mess, but for right now, you just need to feel her against you. 

“We’re going to be okay?” you ask timidly. It seems like it was so long ago that you were spiraling out of control because you thought she was cheating. 

Agatha’s arm tightens around yours. “We’re going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.” 

And you think you might actually believe her. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @vyvvycg

[hysteria-things]

Reverse countertop scenario where instead of you getting eaten out while seated on the countertop, Matt gets sucked off 🫣

TEMPTATION (part one)

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dilf!matt x babysitter!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: one heated moment crosses between you and forbidden desire.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, slight size kink if you squint, oral (male receiving), subtle face slapping (he taps her on the cheek once), praising

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,766

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: first dilf!matt fic of the collection :D

(dilf!matt au originally by @luvs4matt)

you’ve met matt through one of your mom’s work friends, who was talking about how her son needed a babysitter because of how busy his work has gotten. against your will, your mother gave you the job, saying that it’ll be a fun and new experience.

because you like kids, you genuinely didn’t mind. you’ve only been nannying for a few weeks now, and the routine isn’t that bad.

you drive to his house every weekday, arriving at seven on the dot. you wake up his five-year-old daughter (who is already fond of you) and make her breakfast along with getting her ready to drop her off at school.

she’s a cutie who looks a lot like her father—with his blue eyes and brunette hair—but she has a bubblier personality and is much more talkative. on the other hand, matt keeps to himself, and rarely says more than three sentences to you: “good morning.” “don’t forget to pack her lunch.” “see you later.”

on this particular day, a couple of hours after dropping his little girl off, you realized you had forgotten something at matt’s house. cursing to yourself when you notice, you drive back to sleuth your way into grabbing what you left and leaving.

however, when you walk through the door, a familiar figure is kneeling in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattoos and grunting as he’s fixing something under the sink.

you pause, genuinely surprised. he always leaves for work when you arrive at his place at your scheduled time. today, he hid from you upstairs the whole morning that you didn’t even acknowledge he was home. you stare at the gruff thirty-year-old for a few beats, not knowing if you should make yourself known or just sneakily retrieve your item and head back out.

so, instead, you swallow a lump in your throat, and start walking slowly to the living room hoping he doesn’t notice you. with the short weeks that you’ve been working for him, you’ve always felt intimidated by his presence. matt doesn't immediately catch on, but as he listens to footsteps getting closer to him, he perks up. he turns around, just in time to see you starting to walk toward the living room.

he raises a brow, his arms now crossed. “i thought you left already.”

jolting from his voice, you turn around to see him still in the kitchen by the island, but he’s gotten closer to you. “i-i forgot my wallet.” you stutter, scratching the back of your neck. “i’m sorry. i’ll get out of your hair when i grab it, i just didn’t know you stayed home today.”

he eyes you, looking up and down in silence for a second. he lets out a groan, not exactly happy that you're back here, but he's not angry. just… annoyed. “when did you realize you forgot your wallet?”

your face burns up when he looks at you like that, his eyes mesmerizing but also frightening at the same time. your anxiety rushes through your veins, fingers playing with the necklace around your neck to try and calm your nerves.

he’s just so intimidating.

“after i dropped evelyn off at school, but i didn’t have time to grab it until now.” you start, trying to not sound shaky. “she had a rough morning getting ready today, so i was scattering my stuff everywhere trying to help her get back on her little feet. i’m sorry again. i’ll leave the moment i grab it.”

matt lets out a frustrated sigh when he hears about his daughter having a morning like that. “i thought i heard the commotion from upstairs…” he trails off. he takes a moment to breathe and to think, looking you up and down again, trying to figure out why you're shaking. “you're nervous.”

“it was a weird morning.” you still fiddle with your necklace. “other than her tantrum, she was good.”

a huff escapes from his nose, still looking at your figure as he thinks. you’re so damn small compared to him. it's almost adorable in a way he won't admit to himself. “she had a tantrum this morning? why? what started it?”

looking around the room, you shrug. “it was typical friday stuff.” you say, still nervous that you’re talking to matt rather than hearing three sentences from him. “she didn’t want to get out of bed, then she didn’t like the clothes i picked, whined about how she didn’t want to go to school, then she started crying when i carried her backpack to the car when she wanted to carry it.” you think back to this morning before continuing. “we were also running late and that makes my brain a mess, hence why i forgot my wallet, but after a small pep talk when i strapped her into her car seat, she got better.”

the man nods as you explain the events from earlier. you were pretty, in his opinion—he was looking at you from head to toe. a thought seems to hit him, and he bites the inside of his cheek. his next sentence comes out in a much more gruff tone. “come here.”

your eyes grow wide as you blink at him, your heart rate picking up from nerves. “w-what?” you stammer.

letting out a soft sigh, he repeats himself. “you heard me. come. here.”

when you slowly start to walk over to him, you rub the sweat from your palms onto your jeans. you don’t get too close, but you’re not too far, either. he watches as you walk over, his eyes not leaving your body. the thought that he could easily pick you up with one arm in an instant makes him laugh internally. you stop about a foot or so in front of him, standing there with wide eyes. “closer.”

you put your shaky hands behind your back, shuffling even closer to him with a million thoughts running through your brain. did you do something wrong with evelyn? did you forget something important that you needed to bring to school for her? are you going to be fired for forgetting your stupid wallet?

matt’s eyes dart all over your face as you step closer, his jaw clenching for a moment as his eyes linger on yours, then your hair, your nose, your mouth, then your body again. you are so small. it’s very clear with the way you’re shaking and the anxiety clear on your face that you are nervous. “closer.” he says again, his eyes flicking to your necklace for a moment.

smirk tugs at his lips as you step closer, his eyes locked onto you. you’re now standing directly in front of him as he leans on the counter, his height is much more intimidating up close, but you can’t make yourself pull away. it’s like he has a magnetic pull, causing you to stare at him with awe.

he watches your every move and the way you tremble. “you’re shaking.”

“i-i just want to grab my wallet. if i interrupted something important, i’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

the chuckle in his throat is ticklish as you struggle to get any words out. “take a deep breath. calm down.”

surprised by what he said, you somehow listen and take a couple of deep breaths. well, he is the father to a toddler, after all. you’re sure he deals with a lot of temper tantrums that involve guidance in breathing. after a few inhales and exhales, you calm down just a smidge. “i’m sorry.”

matt watches as you finally start calming down, a slight sense of satisfaction washing over him as you do. he’s not exactly sure why, but he liked watching your shaky body slowly come together again. “you don’t need to keep apologizing, y/n.”

“sorry.” you reply, mentally punching yourself in the face when you say the word. “it’s a habit.”

although, your name rolling off of his tongue has between your legs tingle, but you try to blink away the dirty thoughts and ignore it.

he scoffs. you are so damn polite; it’s almost cute. “stop apologizing.” he orders, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, his brows furrowing as his thumb grazes your lip. “how old did you say you are again?”

your breath hitches when he touches you, but instead of backing away, you stay put. your lashes bat in his direction as he continues to rub on your bottom lip. “twenty-one.” you exhale, as if you were holding your breath this entire time.

“you’re such a pretty young thing.” he whispers, hand moving down to your throat as he gently kneads at the flesh. “you must be so innocent still.”

grunting when he squeezes at your neck, you subconsciously glance down at his groin, where you can see his growing hard-on. your eyes widen, chest heaving and licking your lips. the pooling in the middle of your thighs only escalates, clenching them together.

this is your boss, y/n. stop.

“do you trust me?” he blurts out, a smirk growing wider once he notices you staring. he has you right where he wants you: at his mercy.

“yes.” and that’s true.

he grabs your hips and pulls you closer, leaning into where your noses are touching. “lift your leg.”

complying, his hand reaches under your thigh when you raise your leg to rest on his hips. you gasp, feeling his bulge rub against your clothed clit. he grinds against you swiftly. “you feel that? that’s what you do to me; every single time i see you.”

“fuck.” you exhale, subconsciously rutting your hips more into him to feel more friction.

“dirty girl.” he whispers, one of his hands reaching up to squeeze your breast while the other that’s resting on your thigh moves to the waistband of your pants. “do you want me to touch you here?”

you throw your head back, nipples peeking at his touch. “please.”

matt groans, leaning down to nip at that spot below your ear. a high-pitched whine leaves your lips, his fingers slipping under your panties. the pad of his pointer rubs at your bud, and you moan softly. he keeps leaving wet kisses on your jaw, toying at your clit. “so fucking wet.”

you keep moaning, clenching around nothing when he plays with you faster. this plus the rubbing of his dick against you makes you want more, but you fight it off. he removes his hand after a few seconds, leaving you aching before bringing his fingers to his lips. he laps at your juices, humming approvingly.

then, his eyes darken, voice extra demanding. “get on your knees.”

while you’re getting on your knees, the pumping of your heart is the only thing you seem to hear, matt starting to unbuckle the belt of his jeans. as you patiently wait, he unloosens it and his pants drop to his ankles along with his boxers. your mouth waters at what’s in front of you, being put under matt’s make-believe spell. he’s big—really big—and you can’t help but stare at it longingly.

tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he smiles a genuine smile. “open your mouth; good girl.” he cups both of your cheeks, sliding his cock agonizingly slow between your lips. he lets out a long groan the more his inches fill your mouth until you gag once his tip nudges at the back of your throat.

“awe.” he coos, wiping some drool at the sides of your lips with his thumb. “that’s not even all of it.”

you bob your head, moaning around his length at how good he feels in your mouth. slurps and gags continue when you go faster.

he grunts and hisses at your sudden change of speed. “ah, slow, slow.” he fists your hair and taps you on the cheek, causing you to wince and stop. “i said slow.”

matt hasn’t had his dick sucked since his ex, which had to have been over a year ago. hell, he hasn’t had sex since her. he was getting sick of his hand doing the pleasure for him, but the warmth of your mouth is a reminder that you’re here.

your eyes tear up when he lets go of your hair, the stinging there for a few seconds before you move again, this time at the slow pace he requested. he nudges your head up, forcing you to look at him through your lashes as you resume to suck him off.

“that’s it.” he exhales with a moan, back pinned against the countertop. “good girl, listening to everything i say.”

he licks his teeth as he stares down at you, your doe eyes going into his soul as you’re stuffed full with his cock. if only he had his phone nearby, he would take a picture of this.

it’s quiet, except for his groaning and the wet sounds. his mouth is agape, his dick disappearing in and out of those plump lips. deep down, he thinks he’s using you to get off, but little does he know, you wanted this as much as he did. it’s like he wants this image engraved into his mind forever.

without even realizing it, you start to bob your head faster again, gulping more of his cock in the process.

“mmph, fuck, wait.” he pants, voice getting higher when his dick twitches. “s-slow down. slow, slow—” he lets out a long groan, grabbing the back of your head to move it down to his pelvis. you gag for the last time, his cum shooting down your throat all at once. you relax your jaw, making his seed easier to swallow. “so fucking good. such a good girl.” he pants again.

when he pushes you off, you cough as you try to catch your breath from being able to breathe again. matt’s still looking at you, but this time with his original stone-cold demeanor. his eyes flick over to the stove clock. “it’s 2:45 now. you should probably start getting ready to grab evelyn soon.”

with that, he pulls up his undergarments, zips them, and walks away.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

matt’s seen walking towards the front door through the window of the white picket-fenced home when you park the car, and you take a shaky exhale. seeing him after what happened makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand, but you don’t know if it’s in a good or bad way.

because, well, you enjoyed what you two did. a lot.

after another short breath, you get out of the driver's seat to open the back door. avoiding matt forever is impossible, so you’ll just have to toughen up and deal with it.

evelyn’s kicking excitedly, the top straps unbuckled already when you reach to undo the bottom half of her car seat. just as she hops down onto the driveway, the front door opens as if on queue.

of course, she leaves her backpack and the little mermaid water bottle behind as she bolts to her father. “daddy! daddy!” you hear her squeal excitedly, closing and locking the car doors once you grab her school stuff.

matt scoops up evelyn with ease and kisses her on the head. he smiles down at his daughter, asking her a whole bunch of questions about the school day. he nods and pipes in here and there to keep the conversation flowing as his little girl rambles on. you notice how matt gets when he sees evelyn, and his demeanor completely changes. he’s happy and engaged, eyes showing the love he has for her. it’s so fucking adorable.

“what do you want for dinner, missy?” matt asks, adjusting her in his arms when she starts to slip.

you silently watch the interaction, not wanting to ruin their moment as evelyn brings her finger up to her chin to think. it takes her a few seconds, but she says something along the lines of ‘the dinner of champions.’

“dino nuggets and mac and cheese?” he questions with a quirked brow. “but you had that last night.”

evelyn puts her hands together and pouts, giving him the best puppy dog eyes she can muster. unfortunately for her father, that trick will always work on him.

he sighs, setting her down. “i suppose so…”

“can y/n stay for dinner?” evelyn tugs at matt’s pants as she pleads. “pretty please?”

you hesitate with your answer, because you don’t know what’s in store if you stay longer than usual. “oh, i don’t—”

“you should.” matt quirks a brow, turning to face you. “it will be fun, yeah?”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @mattgirl4lyfe @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @freshsturns @etershine @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew @sturnsmadl @starz4star

[justauthoring]

jerk [2].

because bakugou katsuki is a jerk but he's also unfortunately your soulmate.

a/n: the LARGELY requested part two! honestly, i'd be willing to write more parts if people wanted :) this part ended up being more about the girls and y/ns friendship but i couldn't help myself - if you guys want some fluff with bakugou for future parts, just let me know!

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader

part one. part three.

“You’re hiding something from us.”

There’s a beat of silence, then another, then another and when finally, you realize you should say something, you blink, sputtering out a barely believable; “no i’m not.”

Mina and Jirou glance at each other, then behind them at the rest of the girls, and you feel a layer of sweat build up when you realize all of your female classmates are here, surrounding you, demanding an answer. And you’ve never really been all that good at lying before, it’s how Bakugou was able to figure out the whole “i’m your soulmate thing” rather quickly and it had only taken him as long as it had because, well, it was Bakugou.

So, to put it bluntly, you’re screwed.

“Come on, Y/N,” Mina laughs, “that wasn’t even remotely believable.”

You know it’s written across your face, your eyes wide and your lips parted and you’re sure you look like quite the picture in that moment surrounded by every single female student in your class, a group of girls you considered your friends but were feeling considerably more like your interrogators in that moment. 

But you have to at least try.

“I’m not hiding anything,” you repeat, this time taking special care to make sure your voice is even and somewhat believable. “I’m just… tired. It’s been throwing my balance off. Sorry guys.”

You really are because you have been weird recently and you were hiding things (even if you were desperate for them not to know that) so the sincerity was there and it seems to be enough because they all glance at each other, frowning, and you can literally see the determination fade as Momo speaks up first.

“You have been leaving to train a lot,” she agrees with a solemn nod. “It’s no wonder you’re so tired. But you should still try to get some rest, don’t push yourself so hard.”

You let out a breath of relief, trying not to let it show as some of the girls shuffle back to walk away, until—

“Wait, that reminds me!”

It’s Jirou who calls it out and you feel yourself freeze.

“She hasn’t been training!”

Eyes widening, you turn to look at Jirou. She’s grinning your way, her figure pointed in your direction, clearly pleased she’d caught you in your lie.

“Jirou,” Uraraka calls out, confused. “What are you–”

“Two nights ago when she left to go training, I followed her, thinking we could train together… she wasn’t there.”

They gasp. Literally gasp.

“Now that you mention it,” Froppy nods, finger held to her chin in thought. “I haven’t actually seen her in the gym very often… nor does she look particularly like a person who’s just trained when she comes back.”

Their eyes fall on you and you take a step back.

“Y/N—”

And then you just run.

-

“I can’t believe she just ran!”

“I know!”

“Guys, I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“Who?”

Mina’s lips are left parted at the sound of Kirishima’s voice, all the girls turning to face him in the living room where he’s sat with the rest of the class.

“Y/N,” Mina explains with a huff, falling into the couch dramatically. “She’s been ditching us constantly and always leaving right after we return from class with some excuse. When we tried to ask her about it today, she lied and then when we caught on to her lie, she ran! Literally just bolting down the hallway before we could even blink.”

Kirishima frowns, glancing over to Denki on his left.

“That doesn’t sound like Y/N,” Deku calls out from across the room, head tilted in curiosity. “Especially to lie to you guys.”

“I know!” Mina calls out, throwing her hands up in exasperation. 

“Like I said,” Uraraka speaks up, trying to remain calm. “I’m sure she has her reasons. Maybe something’s wrong…”

“You think she could be in danger?” Shoto asks, quirking a brow. 

Uraraka shrugs; “I don’t know… I hope not.”

Everyone falls silent, worried expressions plastered on their faces.

“Wait, Kirishima… bro.” Denki calls, reaching to shake Kirishima aggressively, to which the red-haired boy swats his hands away, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Hasn’t Bakubro been disappearing a lot too?”

All the girls straighten out.

Kirishima just shakes his head; “Bakugou is always disappearing. You know he doesn’t like hanging with us a lot.”

“No, Denki’s right,” Sero nods, “even if he isn’t hanging with us, he’s usually in his room or in the gym. Recently, he just completely disappears.”

“I guess you’re right…” Kirishima frowns.

“Wait,” Jirou calls out, “what are you saying? That Bakugou is disappearing with Y/N?”

“That’s crazy,” Mina brushes off. “I’ve never even seen the two talk to each other unless they’re forced to–wait.”

Everyone's eyes snap to hers, wide.

“What?”

“You don’t think… no. It’s not possible.”

“Oh my god,” Denki cries out suddenly, leaning forward with a manic look in his eyes. “Bakubro is hurting Y/N!”

“Wait–”

“No way!” Kirishima calls out, turning to Denki. “Bakugou is a lot of things, but he would never hurt somebody intentionally. Especially not a girl. That’s not manly. Right, Midoriya?”

“Right,” Deku nods confidently, before pausing; “I think?”

“Hey!”

“Guys, no!” Mina cuts in, shaking her hands widely before her. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay…” Momo nods, “then what?”

She leans in, pausing for dramatic effect. “He could be… her soulmate!”

There’s silence, then, “no way.”

Mina’s face falls; “why not?”

“Bakugou? Having a soulmate?” Jirou snorts, “I doubt that.”

“Everybody has one!”

“Okay, the odds of him actually caring about his soulmate are slim to none,” Froppy offers in response.

“Yeah,” Deku nods, “I've never once seen Kacchan show interest in his soulmate like… ever.”

Kirishima shakes his head; “even I have to admit that’s so not manly.”

Everyone shuffles around agreements but Mina is quick to argue; “have any of you guys ever seen Bakugou’s soulmate mark?” Slowly, one by one, all glancing at each other, the guys shake their heads. Mina then turns to the girls. “Okay, have any of you ever seen Y/N’s? Cause she’s never shown or told me.”

The girls all shake their heads.

“So how can you really know?” Mina raises a brow, “I mean, Y/N is always so secretive about her mark. She refuses to tell me.”

-

“Bakugou, we have—”

“Katsuki.”

Coming to a sharp halt, lips left parted, you blink up at Bakugou.

With a grin, Bakugou gently shuts your mouth with a hand to your jaw, laughing lightly; “say Katsuki. That’s my name.”

You can feel your cheeks warm, profusely, and a burst of heat flood through you as you pull yourself from his touch, avoiding his gaze. “Katsuki,” you oblige with a huff and a pout. “We have a problem.”

“Yes?” Bakugou asks, raising a brow your way as he lowers the weight’s he’d been lifting.

“The girls are onto us!”

Bakugou just stares down at you. “What does that mean?”

Exasperated at his obliviousness, you huff, stretching your hands out before you for emphasis as you stare up at him, wide-eyed. “They know I’ve been disappearing after class a lot. I tried to tell them I was training, which I guess we usually are but Jirou caught on to that being a lie too and now they’re onto us!”

Bakugou just blinks. “But what do you mean onto us?”

You let out a cry; “Katsuki! They’re gonna know we’re soulmates!”

“So?”

Pressing a hand to your face, you can’t believe your situation. Not only were the girls onto you, they knew you were lying, which made you feel awful and if they found out that you’d been spending all your time with Bakugou… well that was bound to bring up more questions. Questions you wouldn’t be able to avoid. Questions that would ultimately lead to them finding out Bakugou was your soulmate.

A hand gently reaches for your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face as Bakugou crouches to meet your eyes directly. 

“Why is it such a big deal?” He asks gently, an odd tone that you’re still not used to hearing from Bakugou yet. His face remains neutral but there’s patience lingering in his eyes as he waits for you to explain why you’re so upset.

And you do. Your lips part and the words are at the tip of your tongue until, suddenly, you can’t say anything.

Nothing leaves your lips.

“Y/N?”

“I…—”

“You don’t want them to know?”

Blinking, you bite your lip. “It’s not that, it’s just…” But again, you can’t find the words.

“You don’t trust them?”

“Of course I do,” you argue instantly, “they’re my best friends.”

“Okay…” he says slowly, and then his face twists, “are you… embarrassed of me?”

Meeting his gaze, you frown. “...No,” you whisper, and you mean the words.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I…” Shoulders falling, you frown. “Nothing… I guess.”

“So,” he says, “let them find out!”

Sputtering, you lean back; “it’s not like you’ve told Kirishima or any of the other guys!”

“It’s none of their business,” Bakugou shrugs, letting go of your wrists to set his hand on your head. “But if it makes you feel better, I'll tell them.”

You find yourself silent with disbelief once again, Bakugou’s words echoing in your mind paired with the look in his eyes. Just staring down at you.

Looking at you.

Like you’re his whole world.

-

“I’m sorry.”

They blink at you.

“I’m sorry about running away yesterday.”

Another blink.

“And I'm sorry I’ve been lying to you guys for the past few weeks.”

Slowly, all the girls glance at each other, trying to gauge the situation, before Uraraka is the first to speak up.

“It’s okay,” she assures with a smile, setting her hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We appreciate you apologizing. We were just worried.”

“We wanna make sure you’re okay,” Jirou adds, smiling shyly at you. 

You take a look at all of their faces, seeing the sincerity staring back at you, before settling on Mina who still has a hint of hurt in her eyes but there’s also hope.

Well, here goes nothing.

“Bakugou’s my soulmate.”

Silence echoes, once again, before.

“What?”

“I knew it!”

“Bakugou!?”

There’s a mix of words, gasps of disbelief and shouts of question thrown out at you as all the girls rush towards you, swarming you, desperate for answers.

You laugh a little at their reaction, and that catches their attention.

“Y/N?” Mina asks, confused.

“I’ve been sneaking off to see him,” you explain to her, meeting her gaze, before letting your gaze drift. “I didn’t say anything because I’m still adjusting to it myself and I still don’t know how to feel about it. But I realized it isn’t fair to lie to you guys like that and that I want you guys to know because you matter so much to me.”

“Y/N…” Uraraka mumbles, tears welling in her eyes.

Her expression mimics many of the other girls before suddenly there’s a body slamming against your own, arms wrapping tightly around your waist as you stumble back, trying to catch your footing.

“Oh. My. God!” Mina screams, you wincing at the sheer volume, as she pulls back, grinning brightly at you. “You have to tell us everything!”

-

The next morning, you’re sitting at the island in the kitchen eating breakfast, chatting to Mina, Jirou and Kirishima. The rest of the students trickle by, some making breakfast, some in the living room, all in their own conversations, until suddenly it all stops.

It takes you a moment to realize Kirishima, Mina and Jirou are no longer listening to you, head turned to their right and following their gaze, curious, you blink when you realize it’s Bakugou they’re staring at. It’s not like he’s doing anything particularly odd, nothing except for the fact that his gaze is directed on you and he’s heading straight for you and then suddenly, he’s right in front of you.

His gaze drifts from you, to your plate, back to you; “who made you that?”

“Nobody,” you say slowly, still stunned. “I made it.”

He’s grabbing the plate before you can say anything else, pressing a kiss to your forehead that has your cheeks burning before turning and making his way to the fridge.

“I’ll make you something better,” is all he says in explanation.

Your gaze slowly drifts from him to Mina and Jirou who are grinning widely at you, before there’s the shout of;

“Did Bakubro just kiss Y/N?!”

“And offer to make her breakfast!”

“Wait,” Kirishima suddenly calls after Sero and Denki, turning to Mina and Jirou, “why are two grinning!?”

“All the girls are!” Deku exclaims, pointing at Uraraka and Froppy in front of him.

“You guys knew?”

“Of course,” Mina grins, sending a wink Kirishima’s way before shrugging. “Isn’t that right, Bakugou? You and Y/N are soulmates!”

Everyone expects him to ignore her or tell her to shut up, but instead, he pauses in what he’d been doing (cracking an egg for you), turning his head over his shoulders to meet your gaze before smirking. 

“That’s right.”

And chaos follows.

Utter and complete chaos.

[suntoru]

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍?!

✧˚ · . alt title: getting jealous of a little kid trying to steal ur man!!

cw: gn! reader, pure fluff, crackfic, maybe swearing, not proofread, idk what else please cut me some slack for wriothesley and nuevillettes part i haven’t gotten that far in genshin

─ ✰ 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 notices your little pout and glares to the small child. the little girl’s clutching onto his hand tight, sending him adoring gazes as she nuzzles into him softly, smirking deviously at you when she thinks your boyfriend isn’t paying attention. he’s a little confused at first, but manages to connect the dots. ah. so that’s what it is. his lips curve into a small smile as he notices your jealousy, thinks you’re the cutest thing in the world. he places the now scowling child into adeline’s care for a bit, before making his way to you with a sheepish smile.

“dearest… are you in need of some attention? my apologies, it seems i have neglected you for a bit too long. how about a walk together… just you and i?”

─ ✰ 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 is a girl dad, you can’t convince me otherwise. the little girl is giggling in his arms, squishing his cheeks as they play princesses and knights. for some reason, the girl is set out for you, side eyeing you every time you try to get close to kaeya. so with a sigh, you sit and watch them play with a small huff. after a while, kaeya hands the five year old some mora, telling her to go buy a snack from a nearby cart and that they’ll play again later. she excitedly runs off as he saunters over to you with his signature smirk. he scoops you up into his arms, holding you flush against his chest. “you’ve got some real competition, hm?” he lets out a charming laugh as he teases you lightheartedly.

“don’t worry my love, you still own my heart… for now.”

─ ✰ 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 loves playing with little kids. they remind him of teucer and his other younger siblings, forgetting about his harbinger duties for a moment as he plays hide and seek with the little girl. she shyly hands him a flower she picked herself, blushing slightly. he feels his heart melt, feeling a sense of protectiveness was over him as she clutches his leg tight. he’s unaware of your pout until the child reluctantly has to go back home for supper, his concentration snapping back to you. he grins at your frowny expression, tugging you into his arms, squeezing you tightly.

“aww, y/n, are ya jealous? ahaha, so you are! …stop pouting, i’ll make sure to give you some extra attention tonight~”

─ ✰ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 does not like the little kid either. sorry, what were you expecting? he doesn’t like any kids at all, unless it’s your kid. reluctantly, he entertains the child for a bit, attempting to hide his annoyed expression as the little girl tugs at his hat, giggling loudly. he also finds himself glaring coldly at the five year old every time she sticks her tongue out at you, climbing into his lap as she refuses to look at you. at this point, he just wants to go back to you, but the little girl cries every time he attempts to stand up. he almost smiles when the child’s mother finally finds the little girl, speed walking over to you as he allows you to cling onto him softly, frown instantly melting away.

“hmph. what an annoying brat. …our kid would be much cuter.”

─ ✰ 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀 smiles at the small child as she draws a picture of her and kazuha holding hands. he allows her to play with her hair, acting as a father figure to this sweet little girl. it’s almost like a perfect family… except this demon child hates you. she steals all of kazuha’s attention, and whenever you try to initiate affection, she drags him away possessively. …you never thought you’d have a five year old compete with you over your boyfriend. if not for kazuha’s patience, you might have lost it. he pulls you into a corner with a knowing smile, peppering your face with kisses as he chuckles softly.

“dove, there’s no reason to pout… you’ll always be my muse, alright? so stop frowning… a smile suits you much better.”

─ ✰ 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 frowns slightly seeing the girl cling onto his arm. …where are her parents? should he leave? …no, that would possibly put the child in danger… but at the same time, it’s taking away his time with you. he allows the little girl to stay, observing curiously as the little girl blushes ever so slightly while playing with his hair. …strange. this small creature acts so much like you, yet seems to hate your guts… he turns to you, surprised to see you grouchy. standing up, ignoring the girl’s protests, he tilts your head up with his hand, gorgeous amber eyes boring into yours.

“…have i done something to make you upset? tell me, so i can fix it.”

─ ✰ 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎 knows. this little bitch knows what he’s doing… it’s been a peaceful few weeks, why not stir it up a little? he holds her teensy tiny hand in his, feeding her delulu in further, and spends what was supposed to be your date with him into a play date with the little gremlin. it’s seven when the girl falls asleep, finally paying attention to you. he smiles mischievously at your grouchy pout, pulling you in closer as a soft melody starts playing, spilling you around as you waltz around the room.

“…ah? so you knew i was teasing you? …i have to make it up to you now? very well. how about a nice massage and some cuddles tonight?”

─ ✰ 𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌 stares at the child. …why is it so attached to him? kaveh and you were right there, with open arms, beaming at the little girl… and now sobbing as the child ignores you… not knowing what to do, he continues reading his book… but it’s not long before she tugs his sleeve, asking for him to read her a book. he obliges, reading to her in the most monotonous voice, it would be more surprising if the little five year old didn’t fall asleep. looking up, he sees you scowling at the little girl, and he feels his heart warm the slightest bit.

“…what i read her? the extensive analysis of the color brown: the non-illustrated edition. simply fascinating.”

─ ✰ 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇 cooes as the little girl bats her eyelashes, beaming so innocently, his entire heart melts. this little girl is his now, sorry parents!! you snooze, you lose. when you whisper to him how you think she hates you, he audibly gasps. this sweet little angel? no way!! he shows her all around his office, the secret projects he hasn’t even shown you yet!! they have a field day with that. when the sun sets, he reluctantly gives her back to her very grateful parents. his eyes sparkle at your pout, squeezing you tightly.

“oh, you wish to know what the classified architecture is too? …it’s… our future home. for me and you.”

─ ✰ 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 visibly softens at the little girl tugging his shirt. unbeknownst to most who believe he is as stoic as he is in the court, he seems to be very soft and gentle. he allows her to clumsily braid his silky strands, keeping the hairstyle on for the day, ignoring the confused stares he gets from fellow passerby. however, when you try to give him a peck, she pushes you with a glare, clinging onto his sleeve! your mouth visibly drops, and you don’t know whether to laugh or be mad. neuvillette is equally as shocked, scolding her lightly.

“beloved, are you all right? …no? shall i kiss it better?”

─ ✰ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 expected the five year old to go running into your arms, screaming and crying. after all, he certainly looks like a scary man, having quite a tall stature, covered in scars as well. but no, she innocently beams at him cutely asking to play tea party. so that’s the sight you walked into, a small child, wriothesley, and a handful of barbies surrounding the round table, all having teacups. the girl glares at you, telling you you can’t join, as your smile drops. this little roach… who does she think she is? before you can say anything, he pulls you to the side, whispering quietly.

“babe, we’ll have our own tea party date later… yes, yes, i promise.”

©kaeffeinee 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddie-spooktober day 3: apples | rated: G | wc: 998

“Wow, he’s really good at that.” Robin remarks as Eddie sloshes back up out of the bucket with yet another apple caught in his grin, “Who'da thunk, huh?”

“Yeah…” Steve breathes, watching Eddie’s hair drip down over his forehead and down his neck, “He’s really good with his mouth.”

Robin chokes on her most recent swig of cider, “I’m sorry, what?!”

“Uh…” Steve feels his face turn hot, “Huh? I didn’t say anything.” He moves to turn away back into the Hoppers’ cabin, an excuse of the bathroom or a new mug of cider ready behind his teeth and Robin on his heels

“Oh no you don’t; you explain yourself this instant Steven Marie Harrington!” She demands, voice much louder than he’d like it to be, “What did you just say about Eddie Munson’s mouth??”

“Nothing that anyone—especially the Eddie in question—needs to hear! Quiet down!” He whispers in a harried tone.

He pulls her into Hopper’s tiny bathroom, snapping the door shut behind him.

“You have a crush on Eddie Munson?! Our Eddie Munson?”

Steve leans back against the door and sighs, letting himself sink to the floor. “Still too loud.” he says, not actually meaning it.

She must’ve been able to tell that he’s trying to stall, so she sinks onto the shallow edge of the tub to wait. One of her knees knocks against the bowl of the toilet, the other against the wall.

“I think I have for a little while now. Since spring break at least.” he confesses, now that he’s in the proper position to do so, here on the bathroom floor.

“You found time to get your first crush on a guy since figuring out you’re bi, and it’s during yet another upside-down related catastrophe.” Robin states rather than asks. “You’re something else, Dingus.”

“Gee, thanks for your support.”

“You have it always, obviously,” she waves him off, “Just surprised that the first I’m hearing about it is when your horny lizard brain tells me for you.”

“It’s been getting really annoying lately.”

“What, having a big gay crush on someone? I feel you.”

“No, lizard brain is being really annoying lately. But yeah, also that.”

Steve’s gaze is stuck on the slightly mis-matched piece of linoleum between his feet, but sees Robin nod her head in his periphery.

Neither say anything for a solid 45 seconds, until: “So what are you going to do about it?”

“Something… eventually… maybe…” he hedges, “Just ‘cause he’s into guys too doesn’t mean he’s into me.”

“Oh yeah, of course he isn’t.”

He rolls his eyes at the sarcasm. “I’m being serious Robin.”

“Me too.”

Steve finally looks up at her.

“Don’t give me that look, I’m being serious about my sarcasm, Steven. Of course Eddie’s into you; you saw how he was flirting with you during the whole Vecna fiasco!” Robin flails her arm around in emphasis, “How he’s been flirting with you ever since.”

“What if that’s not just for me though, he’s annoyingly charming to everyone!”

“He may be charming,” She grimaces (“Hey!”), “But that doesn’t mean he’s out here flirting with anyone!”

“He just feels comfortable with me.”

“Everyone our age knows about Eddie, Steve, and he’s still been his same dorky self with all them. You’re the only one he’s been flirting with nonstop.”

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but closes it again. 

Damn, she’s got a point.

Eddie never calls Jonathan ‘sweetheart’, or Argyle ‘big boy’... he’s heard him say once that Hopper was his first crush when he’d had one too many drinks, but she’s right.. Eddie’s only flirty with him.

Steve suddenly feels all swoopy inside. And it must show on his face somehow, because Robin says “Ew gross, you’re thinking about him aren’t you?”

“No, I’m thinking about Hopper– of course I’m thinking about him!” Steve grins, then pushes him up off the floor. “Okay, okay, I just have to make it through the rest of the day, and I’ll ask him out tomorrow when he comes in to bother us for a free rental at work.”

He looks down at Robin, searching her face for any sign that it isn’t a good plan.

She nods, “Good. Now where are you going to take him?”

The answer to that one was simple, “Movie date at my place.”

Robin snorts, “A bit presumptuous, eh Stevie?”

The floaty feeling in his gut turns into a boulder, “I mean— That’s not what— Obviously I’d love it to—” he cuts himself off for the last time at the smirk on her face. “Oh fuck you.” He shakes his head in fond exasperation as he turns, heading back out of the bathroom.

Robin’s teasing him still when the back door opens and Eddie waltzes in, the round, decorative basket Joyce had been using to put all the apples people fished out of the barrel in his arms and a(nother? The same?) apple lodged in his teeth.

He spots them and puts the basket down on the island, spinning dramatically to lean onto the tabletop to face them.

His hand comes up to grab onto the apple, snapping off a bite and sucking away the juice as he takes it away from his mouth, “Hey Stevie, Birdie,” he says over a mouthful of crunching fruit.

Steve blinks once, then turns to Robin, “I’m not going to survive 'till tomorrow.”

Before she or Eddie can react, Steve is striding across the room and pulling his sodden friend to him in a tart, apple-flavored kiss.

Robin says something about being lookout, but Steve’s too busy feeling Eddie’s mouth on his.

Until Eddie pulls back that is.

“Shit– Eddie, I’m so sorry, I—” Steve stops when Eddie’s finger comes up between them.

Eddie chews once, twice, a third, then swallows down the rest of his bite.

Ah.

“Okay,” Eddie breathes once his mouth is clear. “Now, where were we?” He tosses the apple over his shoulder and descends upon Steve once again.

divider from @saradika-graphics!

[verstappen-cult]

I would LOVE a part two of the birthday drabble if ur open to that? maybe how max tries to ask for reader’s forgiveness? maybe asking Charles for help but he’s just like “no u gotta figure it out on ur own this time buddy” bc he’s mad at him too?

PART ONE. Max totally blanks on your birthday plans and it’s not pretty.

Max is pacing around the kitchen when you wake up the next morning. When his gaze snaps up to meet yours, you can see the bags under his eyes. You think about reaching for him when you remember what happened, so, you simply walk past him to make some coffee.

“Good morning, schat.” He whispers, looking down. You’re still very much hurt but seeing him like this breaks your heart. 

Maybe you’re being too mean, giving him the cold shoulder and not even meeting his eyes, but you also think about what your best friend said last night when you called her crying. He needs to sort out his priorities and give you what you deserve. And you also need to stand up for yourself, you’ve let Max get away with similar things in the past and it’s time for that to stop. 

“Good morning,” Charles says as he enters the kitchen. He looks at Max but doesn’t say anything when he sees his eyes filled with tears. You’re hurt but he’s angry. “Want me to drive to your appointment?” 

“Mmh.” You nod, taking your cup of coffee and going back to your room. 

Charles opens the fridge and tries to look busy waiting for Max to get the fuck out of the kitchen. But that doesn’t happen and he is forced to close the door and face his boyfriend. 

“Have you talked to her?” Max asks him, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“Yea’,” Charles simply answers, trying to choose between an apple or banana for breakfast. You or Max are the ones always cooking because Charles just can’t do it, but you’re not in the mood to make breakfast and he’s definitely not gonna ask Max. “I’m not the one who fucked everything up.” 

“I’m sorry, okay? I just—I didn’t forget, but there were—”

“I don’t fucking care, Max. It was her birthday! It was supposed to be special but instead of enjoying the one day—the only day she really asks for our attention, she cried all the way home.”  

Max feels like crying again. He feels awful but doesn’t know what to do to make things better. 

The Dutchman opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Charles holds his palm up, shutting him up. 

“I won’t tell you what to do, you need to figure that out by yourself.” 

Charles storms out of the kitchen, leaving a sad Max behind. 

You don’t say goodbye when you leave but Charles, at least, tells him that they should be home by eight, to not wait for them because they will be having lunch together. He doesn’t ask Max if he wants to join. 

Max doesn’t know what to do. 

You’ve never been this angry before. Charles is a different story, they’ve been racing their whole lives together, so, he has seen parts of Charles you don’t even know. 

Max thinks about calling his mom to ask her for advice, God, even calling his sister, but rejects the idea because he knows what they will say. 

It’s all his fault. Stupid Max, stupid SimRacing—

Max gets up from the couch, he doesn’t know how much has passed since you left, but the sun is already sitting down. 

When Max enters his streaming room he wants to cry again. And he does. 

He cries as he disconnects everything. He cries when he smashes the camera onto the floor. He cries while throwing a chair across the room, crashing against the wall. He cries looking at the mess he made, the mess he is.

Max falls to the floor and cries, and cries, and cries, until he feels two strong arms around him and soft words spoken into his ear. 

“Max, breathe with me, please,” Charles begs, caressing his back and lifting his chin up with his free hand. Max’s gaze focuses on his face as he imitates his boyfriend, inhaling and exhaling slowly. It takes some time, but Max eventually stops shaking. “Oh, Max. What did you do?” Charles sounds so broken and disappointed, Max doesn’t want him to feel like that. He’s done so much already. 

Max starts crying again. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Charles wipes his tears and kisses his eyelids. 

Max doesn’t deserve this. 

“Hey, love.” Max turns his head around at the sound of your voice. You crouch down next to him, a soft smile dancing on your lips. “Would you drink this, please? For me?” He doesn’t need to be asked twice. You guide the glass to his lips and he drinks the water — with a little bit of sugar you always add when you’re not feeling okay. 

Max wants to talk, he wants to apologize again, he wants to scream at you and Charles for being so attentive with him when he doesn’t deserve it. But he feels so tired, all he can do is lean into your touch when you cradle his face with both your hands, palms comfortable against the stubble on his cheeks. 

“We’re gonna buy new things and me and Charles will help you set everything up, okay?”

Max wants to scream. Instead, he barely has the voice to say, “I don’t want any of this. I fucked up because of this stupid shit.”

“Max,” Charles calls his name, moving around so he’s sitting next to you. “You love it.”

“I love you more.” He simply says, looking between you and Charles. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…” He lets silent tears fall down his cheeks. 

“I know you’re sorry.” You lean to leave a kiss on his forehead, then, you look directly into his eyes. “I’m still hurt, Max. I won’t lie. We need to have a long conversation, the three of us, but I don’t want you to quit something that you love and enjoy so much. I just,” You notice you’re crying when Max wipes the tears with his thumb. “I want to be a priority in your life.”

“And you are!” He wants to smash his head onto the floor. “God you,” He takes your hand, lips quivering. “and you,” He takes Charles’s hand then. He guides them to his chest, just where his heart is. “are the most important people in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

There’s still so much to say but, for right now, you just want to be as close as possible. You’ll have plenty of time to figure out how to go from here.

[tender-rosiey]

to be honest, idk how you did it but you truly got me stoked over heian era husband! sukuna. i hate the man with most passion (bcs of what he did in the manga), but i couldn't help but giggling, crying, kicking my feet with butterflies in my stomach every time i read your husband!sukuna stories. your writings are *chef's kiss*, i read all of those more than twice already.

idk if you're currently open for request or not, but i want to ask, are you comfortable writing angst/hurt no comfort stuffs? bcs my mind keeps imagining what and how the husbands (gojo, geto, sukuna, nanami) react to their wife (y/n) got klled right in front of their eyes? perhaps bcs of their enemies or something, the enemies know you are their weakness (imagining sukuna, the king of curses, who's feared by most, or satoru who's known as the strongest — turns out have a weakness that he himself perhaps is not aware of is so mindblowing(?)) anyway, you don't have to write it if you're unable to, no worries and no pressure!!

"YOU— WHO I HAVE LOVED TILL LOVE BURNED"

— when you die in front of gojo, geto, nanami, and sukuna

a/n: hehe i am so glad that you like my heinaera!sukuna MWUAH 💕 we gotta ignore what he is doing in the manga 🧍‍♀️ also sorry in advance y’all, but I lowkey had a blast writing this; hope you like this anon <333

GOJO SATORU:

satoru stood outside the operations room, anxiously tapping his feet on the floor.

he clutches his hands tightly, and his eyes are trained on the door, fixated on your cursed energy that he can feel through the door.

you were going into labor, after long 9 months of waiting.

the two of you were going to finally meet your baby girl. the same girl that the two of you would talk to at night, whispering and giggling amongst yourselves.

he knew that the pregnancy was hard on you, and that’s part of the reason why he is relieved that this day has come.

the moments are long agonizing, and what kills him on the inside are your screams of pain as you try to push out your daughter.

he wanted, so desperately, to be with you in the room, but the doctor decided against it; they thought that it would be better to free the room as they worried that there might be a risk in the labor.

that worried him, but he had no choice but to abide by what they said. finally, the sun smiles upon him, and he hears the cry of his daughter.

he stands up, grin overtaking his face, and eagerly awaiting being let in.

he waits.

and he waits, but nothing happens, and he stops the first nurse that goes out the room, “what is happening? is my wife okay?”

the nurse splutters and nods, before dashing to another room. he doesn’t believe her for one second, and so, he tries looking into the room through the windows on the door.

he can’t see anything, but he can still feel your cursed energy. that’s the only thing that calms him down.

but, he can’t find it in him to sit back on the chair. he leans on the wall beside the door, and his nails dig into his knuckles, almost making them bleed.

he doesn’t snap out of it, until the doctor walks out, lowering his mask, “mister gojo—”

he walks past the doctor and heads inside.

“y/n!” he calls out, but he is met with the sight of the nurses covering your figure with a white cloth. his eyes widen, and he grips the wrist of one of them, “what are you doing? she is not dead.”

the nurse’s brows furrow, and her expression turns into of one of pity. he snaps his head towards you then at her, “she is not dead. I can feel it.”

he can still feel your cursed energy, so they must be wrong.

he looks down at you and cups your face gently. he moves your face to his direction, and he whispers, “pretty girl, you did so well, but you gotta wake up now.”

your face is limp in his hand, and his eyes grow frantic, “y/n?” he urges, “please say anything, yell or scold me even.”

he rubs his thumb across your cheek as he chuckles nervously, “love, I can feel your cursed energy. the prank you’re playing is a bit too much, no?”

“mister gojo,” one of the nurses calls out, “I think it’s from her.”

he looks up, and he sees your daughter in the nurse’s arms. she is wailing loudly, and—the nurse is right—she is emitting your cursed energy or remnants of it, he realizes now.

“mister gojo, you need to have skin-to-skin contact with your daughter,” she speaks softly, gently handing the little girl to him.

he takes her, wordlessly, and he mindlessly opens his chest to hug his daughter to it.

the nurses exit the room, and satoru is left to stare at you.

he sits on the bed, one arm holding your daughter and the other hand holding your face. he speaks up lowly with a small and quivering smile, “wifey, come on, wake up. our daughter is here.”

said girl lets out a small huff, and satoru finds himself biting his lip as he lays his forehead on your own.

“come on, y/n,” he begs, “she even looks exactly like you,” he pulls you closer, “you cant do this to me—please, not you too.”

GETO SUGURU:

the businessman sighs, “I won’t pay more than what I offered. geto. my words are final.”

“and who are you to be making orders? geto asks, resting his elbows on the desk, “I could kill you with the flick of a finger, so either you give me the two million yen—I know you can provide—monthly, or you can say goodbye to this life and empire you built.”

the man taps his palm and sighs, “I assume that we won’t be reaching the outcome I want?”

geto tilts his head with a smile, “come on, you still have the power of choice.”

the man stares at geto for a second before speaking up, “your wife is a lovely woman,” he grins, “too bad she has to depart so early.”

at the moment, for the first time since that incident, geto feels his heart drop to his stomach.

he jolts up, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him into the nearest wall, “what nonsense are you spouting?”

geto’s grip on the man’s throat quickly tightens.

the man is barely able to choke out his reply, “y—your dear sweetheart has been poisoned, since she went to your ‘usual’ café spot, and my men were there,” he grins manically, “better go and try to get your goodbyes, while you’re at it.”

your husband throws him on the floor and releases his most brutal curses to eat him. the man’s screams are ignored, as geto hurriedly runs to the café.

his heart beats violently against his chest. how did his curses not notice anything? how could he let you be in danger?

he slams the door open and yells out, “y/n?! y/n, do you hear me?!”

the café is empty, and the only person present there is you. the others having long fled.

you look so pained, letting out labored breaths and furrowing your eyebrows in discomfort. he kneels beside you and gathers you in his arms. he rises to his feet, but halts when you let out a pained shriek.

“I am sorry, honey, I know, just hold on,” he comforts. you shake your head and bury your face into his chest. he tightens his embrace on you and quickly starts running out.

“suguru, it hurts—moving hurts,” you cry, and it makes him kiss the top of your head firmly while nodding, trying to comfort both himself and you.

he thanks the heavens that he arrives at the estate, and he gently places you on the bed. he looks back at manami, “call all the healers and doctors, now!”

he looks down at you, and he grips your hand with it and presses it to his lips. he murmurs softly, “you will be okay; don’t worry,” he clutches your shirt.

he repeatedly apologizes and brings you fully into his arms. he watches your breathing slow down, and he feels your skin get colder. your expression starts to relax little by little.

it sends geto into a frenzy. he snaps, “where are the doctors?! why is no here yet?!”

manami runs inside and pants, “a-all the doctors have been k-killed.”

geto stops feeling the tips of his fingers, and he looks down at you. he starts breathing frantically, “then get anyone! anyone who knows about poison!” he cups your face and shakes you lightly, “y/n, please open your eyes.”

“suguru,” you say weakly, and he instantly lowers his head, so he can hear you better. you whisper softly, “I love you.”

he nods repeatedly, “and I love you too, so you have to stay awake, so we can say it again, yeah? come on, y/n.”

he moves your hair away from your face, his hands shaky as he falters, “can you say it again? one more time.”

your body stills in his arms, and he shudders, “just o-one more, y/n…” he closes his eyes, burying his face in your chest. your arms are limp, and he is left hugging your body.

everybody stays silent, and they watch geto not leave or loosen his hold on you.

he looks up slowly at manami and speaks lowly, “round up everyone that had an affiliation to that scum; those filthy monkeys will pay for what they have done.”

NANAMI KENTO:

nanami heaves a sigh of relief when he spots yuuji, “are you okay?”

the young boy nods frantically, and nanami looks around him then at yuuji again, “is y/n not with you? have you seen her? anywhere?”

yuuji shakes his head, regretfully, but nanami takes a deep breath, “it’s fine; let’s search for her together, okay?” he assures.

yuuji smiles and nods, determined, “yes!”

nanami barely manages a reassured nod of his own, his mind focused on finding you. in fact, he starts running, eyes quickly scanning each street and corner for any sight of you.

he clenches his jaw, remembering what you said before taking this mission.

“kento, I have a really bad feeling about this.”

he dismissed your worries and pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. he hummed softly, “I know, but we have to do it. if things go bad, then we have gojo present anyway.”

gojo is not present. shibuya is slowly turning into a city full of blood and corpses, both non-sorcerers’ and sorcerers’. he regrets not listening to you, but what else could’ve been done?

all he can do right now is find you and make sure you’re okay. that is his first and most important priority.

“nanamin, I found her!” yuuji screams excitedly, pointing at you who was busy thwarting off the myriad of curses charging at you. at the sight of you, nanami’s body relaxes, and he lets out a small smile.

you punch a curse back to a building, so you can finally turn to your husband.

“kento!” you grin and start running towards him. you throw yourself into his arms, and he—as always—catches you. he pulls you close and takes in your presence, burying his face into your hair.

he lets out a small breath.

“I am so glad you’re okay,” he says, but then he feels a strange wetness on his hand. he pulls away slowly and looks down at it. his eyes widen in alarm.

it’s covered in blood.

he looks up at you and mutters, “y/n, are you hurt? where are you hurt?”

“I—I don’t know,” you look up at him, “I can’t feel anything, k—kento; I don’t want to die,” you plead, and he quickly tears off a part of his suit to cover your wound and trying to stop the bleeding.

yuuji quickly goes to try and find shoko.

he hugs you closer, applying pressure to the wound, while pressing gentle kisses to your hair, “you…you won’t; don’t worry.”

you grip his shirt weakly and look up at your husband. you manage a small smile, “have I told you how handsome you are?”

he chuckles weakly, trying to stabilize his voice, “mhm, but I would like to hear you say it again tomorrow; can you do that?”

you nod slowly, “yeah…”

he stays silent for a second and grips you a bit tighter, “do you promise?”

your breathing starts slowing, “promise,” your body relaxes against his, and you feel his hand go to hold your own. he massages your ring finger and raises your hand to his lips.

you close your eyes with a smile, “I love you, ken.”

“I love you more,” he replies instantly. you stay still, and nanami embraces you with the entirety of his body, burying your face into his chest.

he clenches his jaw and whispers, “so much more.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

the king of curses dodges another attack with a full-blown smirk on his face. he swiftly turns and slashes the person till they drop into pieces. his chest heaves with excitement.

that is until he catches the smell of your blood.

he turns behind him, and he is greeted by a sight that he would usually take the time to relish in: a myriad of dead bodies, some piled on top of each other, and blood splattered and spilled everywhere.

he ignores of all that as his feet take him to where he senses your cursed energy.

he sees you standing in the middle of the bodies, and your stance is weak. you’re clutching your side, trying to stop the bleeding. he slowly walks towards to you and teases, “what happened? the queen got hurt?”

you let out a small chuckle, “shut up; it’s a minor injury, nothing worth noting.”

that is until the skin over your chest starts bubbling, and your heart explodes. the blood splashes all over him, and your body drops lifelessly to the floor.

sukuna’s eyes lock with your own blank ones, and he can’t process all the feelings he has.

his chest starts heaving particularly quickly, and his jaw clenches. he bends to his knees—something he never thought he would do—and raises your head towards his, searching for a glimpse of your cursed energy.

his eyes bore into your own as he speaks your name roughly.

“stop playing games, y/n!” he barked, shaking your head in his hand, but you grace him with no response.

“haha! I took out your dear wife; what will you do about it now, you monster?!”

sukuna eyes’ snap to where the voice came from.

he then decides that he will put that man through torture that is not even close to the amount of fury in his chest. sukuna is silent, as he gently lays your head down and walks towards the man.

the sorcerer’s smile starts crumbling, and he quickly falls on his back while trying to move away from sukuna.

“s-stay back, or I will kill you!” he attempts to threaten, but sukuna’s expression is blank. blank being a permanent furrowing of his eyebrows and his lips are pressed into a thin line.

the moment the sorcerer turns his back, trying to flee, sukuna cuts his feet.

sukuna doesn’t give him the chance to scream and wordlessly stomps on his back. little by little, he presses harder on the man under him.

he continues until he hears the cracking of bones and coughs full of blood. sukuna watches as the man tries to claw at his feet, in attempt to escape.

“I will make you suffer ten times over for what you have done.”

and it goes down in history as the biggest carnage sukuna has ever committed.

it didn’t stop at that man.

it extended to all the villages surrounding the vicinity. every sorcerer met a crueller death than the one before him. the single women were eaten, and the married ones were slaughtered.

no man was to enjoy what he was stripped of, and he would let the world remember your name along his through the passage of time, and he would make the temple he erected in your name stand tall forever.

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[moonstruckme]

Could I request poly marauders x reader who was always judged at home on what she ate when she was little, and now subconsciously hides her food from the marauders (like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it) I completely understand if you’re not comfortable doing this req!

Thanks honey!

cw: reader experiences shame around eating "bad" foods

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“You know what I could use right now?” Sirius asks about halfway through the film, right on schedule. “A little treat.” 

You smile, and James hops up gamely. “I’ll see what we have,” he says. Remus chuckles as you and Sirius both turn around on the couch, watching eagerly as James goes into the kitchen. “Ice cream?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know already. 

“Obviously,” Sirius confirms. 

James opens the freezer. “Alright, we have rocky road…half a pint of mint chip…rum raisin—Remus, you’re an old man.” Remus shrugs with a little smile. You think that he’s probably just glad no one else wants anything to do with his flavor of choice. “Also plain vanilla, and…” James pauses, moving things aside and reaching into the back of the freezer. “...chocolate cherry. This yours, angel?”

You’d forgotten you’d bought that. “Yeah,” you tell him, “but it’s open to everyone, of course.” 

James sends you an odd look. “Why’d you have it back behind the frozen peas?”

“I didn’t know it was back there,” you say with a shrug. “I just put things there automatically, I guess.” 

There’s a crinkling sound as James moves more bags of frozen vegetables aside. “There’s also a box of thin mints and an ice cream sandwich.” 

“Ooh, can I have that?” Sirius asks, giving you a pleading look. 

You smile at him. “Course you can. And Jamie, would you bring me the chocolate cherry, please?” 

James still has a funny look on his face as he shuts the freezer, bringing you and Sirius your frozen treats. You turn around once he hands it to you, finding Remus watching you with a similar expression. 

“What?” you ask, popping the lid off your ice cream. James squishes between you and Sirius, the four of you barely fitting on the couch. 

Remus looks like he’s turning something over in his head. “Why was all that back behind the frozen vegetables, love?” 

You shrug, happily sucking ice cream off your spoon. “I dunno. I just put it there, I guess.” 

“It just…” Remus shrugs, and he’s wearing that tiny smile he does when he’s trying to make light of something he doesn’t consider light at all. You tilt your head bemusedly. “It makes it seem like you were trying to hide them or something.” 

“She’s always hiding food,” Sirius says airily, munching on his dessert. “Like the oreos behind the soup cans.” You all look at him, and he stops chewing. “Was that not something we all knew?”

“I don’t…I didn’t think I was hiding anything.” You cross your arms, feeling defensive without really knowing why. There’s a whole number of things you don’t know about yourself, apparently. 

“It’s alright, darling,” Remus says soothingly, placing a hand on your thigh, “just so long as you don’t think you have to hide anything from us.” 

“I don’t,” you say, but you’re looking at your lap and your face feels hot. You don’t, right? Why would you? 

“Sorry for calling you out like that, babe,” Sirius says through a mouthful. “I figured it was intentional, and you just didn’t want us to eat your food. Nobody here cares what you eat, y’know.” 

“I know,” you promise him. “I guess…I just get a little embarrassed sometimes. Like, if I pig out, I don’t want everyone to know because suddenly a whole box of oreos is gone or whatever.” 

“First of all, as if we would even notice,” James scoffs, giving you a friendly shake by the shoulder. “And second, it’s like Sirius said—we don’t care what you eat, sweetheart. Or how much of it. If you want to eat a box of oreos, that’s your business. That’s not even that many oreos.” He shakes his head like you’re silly. “No one’s going to judge you for it.”  

It’s not surprising to hear him say that, and yet you can’t make yourself believe it’s true. Your boyfriends may not say anything about your eating habits—to your face or even to each other—but there’s no way that if they knew every detail, they wouldn’t think it was shameful. 

“Also,” Remus says, arching an eyebrow, “I don’t love the phrase ‘pig out.’ There’s nothing wrong with having a treat—”

“Duh,” Sirius cuts in, toasting with his half-eaten ice cream sandwich. 

“—and you shouldn’t feel like you have to hide things like that from us,” Remus finishes with a nod to appease Sirius. “If you don’t mind me asking, did you put your food in hiding places before you moved in with us?” 

You gnaw on your lip as you think back to pints of ice cream stowed in the ice cube dispenser when you lived at home, eating before your parents got back from work and quickly putting it away again when you heard cars approaching. Back then, you’d hidden dishes in your room too, evidence of food you knew wouldn’t be approved of crusted onto plates and bowls you were keeping stashed there until you could wash them without anyone noticing. 

“I guess so,” you say, and you can feel Remus’ eyes on yours but can’t bring yourself to meet them. You don’t know whether your shame is for your love of junk food or the odd habit of secrecy you’ve fallen into because of it. It might be both. “I used to do it when I lived at home, but I didn’t realize I was doing it here.” 

“That’s alright, sweetheart,” James says hastily, panicking in the face of your solemn change in mood. “So long as you know we don’t care, it’s not like you hiding it is hurting anyone.” 

“It’s hurting me,” Sirius protests. “We had ice cream sandwiches, and I had no idea!” 

You laugh, and James visibly relaxes. “Alright, I’ll try to stop putting things way in the back so that you can find them. I’m not trying to hoard, I swear.” 

“Keeping all the good stuff for yourself.” Sirius shakes his head at you. “That sweet face hides some pretty selfish tendencies, huh?” 

“Actually, could I grab a few of your oreos?” Remus asks before you and Sirius can really get into it. “That sounds pretty good right now.” 

“Yes!” you say. “Yes, please, have as many as you want. Sorry I kept them to myself, it wasn’t on purpose.” 

James takes your jaw in a big hand, pressing a slobbery smooch to your cheek. “You’re forgiven, sweetpea.” He raises his eyebrows. “If I can have some of those thin mints.”