#because like if his class had not been canceled i would not have been able to apply | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

erwinsvow · 16 days ago

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𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐞 — 𝐚.𝐜.

summary: you take care of lena, clean up around the house, and always leave dinner for him when he gets home late. and among constant and never-ending change, you are andrew's northern star.

pairing: andrew cody x babysitter!reader

word count: 13.3k

warnings: read carefully! age-gap dynamics, reader is said to have recently graduated college, i basically ignore anything from the show that wouldn't make sense in my perfect little world. smut—arm humping, oral sex, penetration, the tiniest bit of breeding if you squint real hard.

author's note: and here she is. also known as shea wants to write about doing things to pope's arms.

you used to complain if someone called you their nanny. you’re just a babysitter. this would not—could not—be your full time job. it’s just so demanding. you love the kids you take care of but the idea of saying that you’re a nanny makes it a little more real. like you wouldn’t be able to get out of this, despite how hard you’re trying.

you just don’t want to be a babysitter forever.

but the first time mister cody introduces you as lena’s nanny, you don’t think you mind it all that much.

babysitters are temporary—girls in high school looking for money to pay for coffee and nail appointments, covering date-nights and overtime at the office.

nannies are permanent—it’s a career. you’re responsible for the kid pretty much twenty-four hours a day. kids with nannies are rich, mom and dad too busy at work to be at home. from the little you deduced, nannies buy groceries and make three meals. they go to doctor’s appointments and organize play-dates with other nannies.

you do some of those things for lena. her uncle tries to take her and pick her up from school when he can, and when he calls to tell you that he won’t be able to make it every now and then, he sounds so sorry about it, you don’t know what you can do to reassure him that it’s okay. lena’s young, she doesn’t care about stuff like that so deeply. and she likes you, which helps matters a lot.

you had finished the last few classes you needed to graduate a couple months ago. before that, you’d have to tell mister cody no, i’m sorry occasionally, something that you really didn’t like doing. he seemed like he had enough going on without the babysitter cancelling.

and besides, after you had told him that your classes were done, you were supposed to tell him that you would be looking for a real job, something with your degree, that he should start looking for a real nanny for lena. you were supposed to politely, yet firmly allude to how you’d been scrambling with classes, finishing assignments in the car in between picking up his niece and after she’d fallen asleep at night. how you missed an important lecture because the pediatrician’s office was running behind an hour and lena’s grandmother wasn’t available to take her.

instead, the second you had met his eyes (which were terribly green and incredibly sad), you had folded, and told him you’d be available whenever he needed. and you thought maybe that would garner you a smile—and you’d been wrong. he had looked your way for about five seconds, muttered thank you, and walked away.

and maybe if you could resist those terribly green and incredibly sad eyes, you wouldn’t have wound up as a full-time nanny. life could always be worse—that’s the motto you’ve grown up with. there are so many worse things in oceanside than spending every day in a pretty house by the beach and taking care of a quiet little girl.

if not anything else, you could start making payments on your student loans, if you wanted. mister cody paid you in cash, and he paid you way too much, probably his way of apologizing for how much you had stepped up in the last couple months. but again, you didn’t really mind anymore. maybe if it was another family, you would care more about finding a real job.

but you like lena. you like her uncle, too, you think, as much as you can like a man who is virtually silent and stares at you like he’s boring into your soul when you’re making dinner. you like him because he’s good with her, you can always tell he’s trying his absolute best, his hardest with her. (it doesn’t help that he’s cute—cute in the way that strays are, like you wish you could fix everything wrong with him and reassure him that he’s doing enough, and tell him to stop staring and just come tell you what he’s thinking instead.)

the first couple months were the hardest. lena wasn’t eating, wasn’t sleeping. she hated school, hated all the things she had still cared for when her dad was alive. you’d tried bribing her with trips to the beach, the playground, ice cream with extra fudge and sprinkles. all the things that kids liked. but she wasn’t just a normal kid—and it seemed that you and her uncle were the only ones who understood this.

you didn’t realize you had such a maternal instinct inside of you. maybe it’s because the other kids you’d babysat in your life had been brats, sticky handed toddlers going through the terrible twos and making your life hell while you were trying to pass your classes. lena is the opposite.

she’s the saddest child you’ve ever met, and you know nothing that you or her uncle do is going to fix it overnight.

but progress comes in stages. the first step had been getting her to want to eat again. you’d sat on the couch next to her, watching a nature documentary that her uncle had probably left playing on the tv.

(he is a whole other can of worms—he doesn’t sleep or eat that much either, and one time you had come in really early to get some work done before getting her to school. he’d been awake, watching something just like this, at five-thirty in the morning. and when you’d asked him when he’d gotten up, he had shrugged, and murmured something that sounded suspiciously close to i don’t sleep. that’s your next mission, because you can only focus on one at a time.)

“you hungry, sweetie?” you didn’t want to be pushy. she wouldn’t like that, would only retreat further into herself. you wanted her to come to you when she was ready to eat. lena shook her head and focused back on the television. “okay. well, if you get hungry later, i’ll eat with you.”

lena says okay in her quiet voice, holding onto a stuffed animal and staring ahead. you wait a couple of hours—there’s always something to do in the house. you clean up, wiping counters and sweeping while she stays on the couch. you check in every now and then to make sure she didn’t fall asleep.

and then, thirty minutes before her new bedtime, she comes and sits on the chair by the dining table while you’re wiping it down.

“can we get pizza?” she asks, and you nod right away.

“of course we can. what kind do you want?”

another thirty minutes later, the pizza’s there, and you’re both eating slices of pepperoni and spinach. you’ve formulated your plan for the rest of the night—her uncle’s still not home, which means you can crash on the couch or stay awake. you decide to stay awake, since there’s no follow up text from him. if he wasn’t going to come home tonight, you’d expect the standard, concise message; won’t be back tonight. is lena okay?

and you’re stupid, because you think it’s sweet that he always asks if she’s okay. like you wouldn’t call him the second something went wrong, like he doesn’t believe that you’d trust him with that information before anyone else. but there’s no texts tonight from the contact you’d saved as andrew cody (lena’s uncle).

lena’s finishing her last slice and you’re cleaning up when you hear it—the rumble of his truck pulling up to the house. then a minute later, footsteps and the front door opening.

“what’s all this?” he asks, and you have to remember to find the words.

you don’t know why that happens when he comes around—you’re usually great with dads. maybe it’s because he looks tired, more tired than usual, at least. his copper curls are messed up, like he’s been running a hand through his hair all night. lena’s uncle is always stiff, but it seems worse today, somehow.

(another thought seeps in, an uninvited guest in your mind, about how you’d really like to take care of him. he just needs some sleep, a little peace of mind. that’s it. you’re still trying to figure out the best way to give it to him.)

“we got pizza, uncle pope,” lena fills in, setting down the last piece of crust you knew she wouldn’t finish.

“there should be enough for you,” you add, smiling at him. he doesn’t smile back, but you’re used to that at this point. and you can tell what’s about to come. “lena, can you go brush your teeth and get your pajamas on for me?”

she nods and climbs off the chair, running into her room.

“it’s past her bedtime,” he starts, taking a few steps closer to you. “and pizza for dinner-”

you interrupt him, even though you probably shouldn’t. you close up the box, setting it on the island and you go back to wipe the table.

“she’s not eating, mister cody,” you put the paper towel down, getting your bearings in order to face him, make the dreaded, never-ending eye-contact. “when kids don’t eat you have to meet them halfway. i thought this was better than her going to bed without eating at all.”

he keeps looking at you. you think you should be a little nervous, but you don’t get like that anymore. flustered, sure, but not nervous—lena’s uncle is just kind of a starer, and you’ve gotten used to it by now.

“i’m sorry. i’ll run it by you next time, i promise. i just wanted her to eat something.” he’s silent for a while, like he’s processing what you said.

“yeah. okay. thanks.”

you smile again, a small one. the kitchen’s clean now, or at least as clean as you can get it. you’re sure that when you’re back in the morning, it’ll be spotless, which you can only assume is one of mister cody’s nocturnal activities. you have a routine before leaving—you say goodnight to lena, make sure you didn’t leave anything behind, and tell her uncle you’ll see him in the morning.

he doesn’t normally say anything back, maybe a grunt of acknowledgement. so you’re surprised tonight, when you grab your bag and your keys and hear—

“have a good night.”

“you too, mister cody.”

it took time, but you’ve gotten her schedule better. she eats dinner with you now, whatever semi-healthy thing you can think of with the stuff in the pantry and the groceries you picked up while she’s at school. her uncle leaves money for that sort of thing—an envelope filled with hundred dollar bills. it’s labeled lena’s babysitter in stiff, neat handwriting and he told you to use it for copays and ice-cream and anything else that lena needs. but it feels wrong to use his money when he already overpays you, so you just use your own.

you thought he might not have noticed that the envelope isn’t getting any thinner, until one morning when you arrive and see him counting the notes in it with his head down. now you’re the one staring—watching his arm flex and the muscles move as he flips through the bills. he wears the same kind of shirts every day, short sleeve button-ups, and every day, you are subject to watch his forearms while he does whatever he does. it’s a cruel and unusual punishment.

the worst had been when you needed a box down from the cabinet, the one with the muffin tins and cookie cutters. he had appeared behind you and taken it down for you in seconds, carrying it to the kitchen for you. you had been staring then too, uncomfortable and slack-jawed and wondering why his arms had your mouth dry. (you know the answer, it’s just better to live in denial, you think.)

“good morning, mister cody.” you set your bag down on the sofa, heading inside to get started on breakfast. you open the fridge, taking out a carton of eggs and orange juice and avoiding looking right at him. you don’t need to be flustered before seven-thirty am.

“you haven’t been using this money,” he states. you wish you could figure out what his tone means—there’s no inflections, no emotion simmering behind the words. it’s just cut and dry, stating a fact.

“well, i-” you turn back and look up from the stove and your words die on your tongue. he’s standing up, looking right at you, a fist full of cash like he’s going to make you use it one way or another. a single vein running through his arms tenses. your gaze flickers from it to his eyes quickly, looking at you like he wants you to start listening to him.

“i, um, i had enough.”

“you should use it.”

“but you already gave me a lot, so i-”

“i want you to use it.” the way he says it, it’s not a request.

“right. i-i will. is lena awake?”

“she’s getting ready.”

“great. thank you.” you turn back to the eggs with a flushed face. and even though you’re not facing him anymore, you can tell he’s still staring at you.

“i might not be back tonight.” you turn around and meet his eyes again. terribly green, incredibly sad. you’re too far now to see the brown, but you know it’s there. “i…i’ve got some work. it’ll be late, if i do.”

“thank you for the heads up. i, uh, i’ll crash on the couch then.” you think he might say something else, but you’re not sure. it’s silent for a moment, while you get the eggs onto a plate and hurry into the hallway to get lena.

she comes out first, carrying her backpack. you follow with her hairbrush for once she’s done eating, getting her already packed lunch out from the fridge to sort into her bag. there’s a whole routine that you had learned when you first started babysitting her, and now it’s just a way of life. filling up her water bottle, checking the calendar on the fridge to make sure there’s nothing you’re missing, pulling her jacket from the closet if it’s cold outside.

you get the bottle out, glancing back at her uncle. he’s leaning in while lena takes a bite of the eggs, probably telling her that he won’t be home, and to have a good day, and all the other things you’re sure he says to her. then they hug, and you feel like you’re intruding.

he picks up his keys, which rest in the small blue bowl by the door where yours sit too. and without thinking, you call out after him.

“have a good day at work.” he doesn’t say anything back, but he looks at you before he leaves. you don’t even know what he does for work.

“ready for school?” lena shakes her head no like always.

the days are long, but the weeks are short. you bring lena to school, but they have a half-day, so there’s no point in going home for the day if you need to be back in a couple of hours. so you head back to mister cody’s place, focusing your attention on cleaning the remnants from breakfast. you check the fridge, making note of how much fruit and milk you have left, scribbling onto a piece of paper for later. and for once, you listen to him, taking a single bill out of the envelope and putting it into your wallet. there’s other hundred dollar bills in there too, ones you need to deposit.

it hasn’t been making sense lately. a lot of nannies live with their families because it avoids the wastefulness of paying rent for an apartment you hardly ever visit. you pay internet and electric for a one-bedroom that’s empty the entire day. and now that you’re done with classes, you don’t even need to work on anything late at night or even at lena’s house. you carry around a book with you, and you think you’ve even left a couple on the coffee table, just for the future.

you don’t know why you still have your apartment. well, you know why—mister cody has never mentioned you moving in. and he probably never will, because he doesn’t want you to. but it just doesn’t make sense the more you think about it. you show up between six and seven and sometimes you don’t go home until ten. sometimes you don’t go home at all.

after making your list, you rack your head of things you can do to occupy lena’s time today. the library has a weekly reading, and there’ll be other kids there. you like to pick things so she can get some company from kids her age, so she’s not only stuck with you and her uncle all the time.

closer to when school gets out, you get in the car, bringing in your emergency bag with a change of clothes and your toothbrush since you’ll be staying the night. it’s not an entirely uncommon occurrence, which is why the bag, and a couple others like it, is always ready to go. you go to the bank first, depositing everything except the single hundred-dollar bill you took today. then you drive by the park, see if they’re having any of those pet-therapy sessions today. and then finally school to pick up lena.

the rest of the day goes how you planned. you forget how exhausting it is keeping a little kid entertained for hours on end, unsure of exactly what her uncle pope and his brothers do with her sometimes, when you struggle to fill up a couple of extra hours. the grocery store—where you splurge and buy ingredients to make stove-top smores because lena asks and you’ll take your wins where you can get them—then the library, where you take out a couple of books for lena to read at home and smile when she’s talking with some of the other girls there, then the playground for an hour, before home for dinner.

you make spaghetti while she finishes her homework, and review her homework while she changes into pajamas. and then it’s time for the routine she loves so much, just like her uncle, a nature documentary about penguins while you toast the marshmallows on a fork.

an hour later, lena’s asleep in bed, and you’re scrubbing hardened chocolate off the counter next to the stove. you don’t want more work for her uncle when he’s back, and you’ve learned lena’s a heavy sleeper, so you get to cleaning. it’s not like, as pathetic as the thought is, you have anything better to do.

and then about two hours after that, it’s eleven-thirty. it’s right around the latest that mister cody has ever come home, so you’re pretty sure he won’t be back tonight.

the only thing you have to look forward to in your apartment is the shower you take after a long day. you’ll have to make do with the shower inside the room where mister cody sleeps, since lena’s is close to her room and filled with products for an eight year old, and at the very least, you need adult shampoo and soap.

the room is bare—you would have guessed it’s a guest room if you didn’t know better. you’re not nosy, but you look around, trying to see if there’s anything there that makes the room her uncle’s. you know there’s still another bedroom, the one her parents used to share, since lena sometimes goes in there when she can’t sleep. so this was a guest room, and now it’s mister cody’s, and now you’re lurking in it.

besides for a closet full of clean-pressed button up shirts and organized shoes, you can’t discern anything that makes this room his. there’s not a single thing out of place, from the garden-variety decor that someone else had picked to the artwork to the sheets. the bathroom is more of the same, the entire place having that lemon-cleaner smell to it.

you turn the water on and strip, trying to avoid thinking about how you’ll be sleeping on the couch after this. and even inside the shower, you stare at the two-in-one shampoo bottle and the old spice body wash—old spice. who would have thought?—like you can’t believe what you’re looking at. you inhale the scent for longer than you need to. wrap yourself in a clean towel that doesn’t belong to you. brush your teeth with his spearmint toothpaste. and then you open your overnight bag, and find nothing but sundresses and bathing suits.

it’s past midnight, and you’ve grabbed the wrong bag. you need to get up in about six and a half hours to get lena ready for school, and you’re not positive you have the correct bag in the back of your car.

hesitantly, you open one of the dresser drawers. there’s black and white t-shirts folded precisely, tucked in evenly. one drawer up there’s folded socks and boxers.

you chew on your cheek. he did say that he won’t be home tonight. there’s no way he would know you took anything if you ran a load of laundry as soon as you woke up and folded it after morning drop-off. he might not even be home until the afternoon or evening, for all you know.

your tiredness makes the decision for you. the couch isn’t that comfortable, and you refuse to sleep in the shirt and jean skirt you spent all day in. you take a white shirt and black boxers, and then sneak back in for a pair of black socks because the living room is cold at night. and then you set your alarm, turn on another documentary—this one about hummingbirds, wrap yourself in the throw blanket on the couch, and close your eyes.

andrew comes home at quarter to three. it would have been a lot sooner—he doesn’t like leaving you alone here at night with lena if he can avoid it—but he doesn’t always have control over it. a bullet had grazed deran and he’d spent two hours cleaning up that mess, and then they had to organize their splits before leaving. he had to make sure to stay for that—he needs the cash to pay you, rent for baz’s place, money to put into lena’s savings account.

but he hates leaving you alone in the apartment with lena. not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he knows now it’s not safe, not without him there. he likes to get you home early but it’s rarely the case, and then he feels like he should pay you extra since he’s making you drive home alone in the dark.

telling you to stay is a better option. you can sleep in his room—it’s not like he’s going to sleep in there anyways. but he doesn’t say that, doesn’t need the nanny thinking there’s something wrong with him too. so he settles for telling you to stay the night, and letting you decide where you’ll sleep.

you always pick the couch. and sometimes, he’s not back early enough, sometimes you’re already up making breakfast or gone out for the day with lena by the time he’s back.

but tonight, you’re asleep on the couch. he sets down the bag with the cash on the couch, hovering over you. the television is still on, stuck on a are you still watching? screen, covering up a photo of some birds. a breath leaves him when he realizes you’re watching what he always watches. you’re knocked out—he can tell since the front door opening didn’t wake you like it sometimes does. you’ve kicked away the blanket you usually use, and he thinks for a second he should just cover you up and let you sleep.

but he doesn’t. he stands over you, staring at your sleeping form. he doesn’t like it—how pretty you are when you sleep. it’s a distraction that he can’t escape, knows that the next time he closes his eyes, he’ll think of you. that the next time he sits on this couch, he’ll be able to smell your skin. you snore softly, chest rising and falling evenly.

and then he notices it—the plain shirt, black socks with a familiar logo. are those his boxers? and now he definitely can’t look away. he puts the pieces together—your hair is wet, meaning you must have showered and then put on his clothes before coming back out here. if you were going to do all of that, why didn’t you just sleep in his room?

yes, pope decides, he needs you to sleep in his bed. he needs the couch anyways, since he won’t be sleeping, so he might as well bring you inside.

he lifts you carefully, not wanting to stir you accidentally. his shirt is a little big on you, hanging off your shoulder. you stay sound asleep the entire short walk to his bedroom, not stirring even when he sets you down. you must have been really tired, but that makes sense, given the fact that you’ve been out all day with lena.

he thought about sticking a tracker on your car, but the first time he was taking care of lena, after baz, you had shared your phone’s location with him so he could keep track. you had offered it, voluntarily, saying something about how that’s common with babysitters now, and that you never go anywhere without your phone so he won’t have to worry about you leaving it at home.

you thought reassuring him that he would always have lena’s location in his phone would make him feel better. and maybe it had, but he’d never mentioned it again after that day, never brought up if he actually checked it or not.

(it’s not like you would know if he was using it, it doesn’t work like that. deran had explained it to him.) he did check it, pretty frequently, actually. he checked it after you’d leave when he got home, after lena was asleep. he’d watch your little circle drive home and pull into the parking lot of your apartment complex. it wasn’t as bad of an area as it could be, but it wasn’t that safe either. he liked to check it every now and then too, middle of the night, saturday evenings when he was home with lena and you got to leave early or had the day off.

he assumed, somehow, that you’d be in bars or parties at your college, maybe. but when he looks at your location late at night, you’re always at home. he checks other times too—but he’s just trying to keep you safe. (that’s what he tells himself—that finding another babysitter than lena liked and that he trusted would be a hassle. he needs to keep you safe.)

but it doesn’t seem like you like any of that stuff. he’s never seen you drink the beer in the fridge, though you offer one to him every now and then. you’ve met smurf and deran and craig before, like when you’d go to drop off lena before one of your classes, back before you had finished school.

you were smart—he knew that much. that was the kind of good example he needed around lena, someone who had gone through school and finished. he didn’t know what your degree was in, but it must’ve been something smart, something important. you were always typing on your computer and reading books. whatever it is that you studied, he wants someone in lena’s life that can help her with that stuff, stuff he doesn’t know much about, when it’s time.

you were smart enough to turn down every joint or bump that craig offered. you never accepted a drink from smurf that didn’t come from a can that you opened yourself. and baz used to tell him that you were just a local college kid, that you didn’t have any family nearby or anyone to occupy your time, really.

it didn’t make sense—pretty girl like you. he would have thought you had a boyfriend, but if you do, you’ve never brought him around. and if he didn’t live with you or live at that coffee shop you liked that was down the street from your apartment, then he didn’t know if you even had one. maybe he shouldn’t spend any time thinking about your hypothetical boyfriend, but that’s just what comes up sometimes when he thinks about you for too long. like right now.

you look peaceful lying in his bed. your eyes flutter quickly like you’re having a dream, and he sits on the bed next to you, watching you sleep. your hair falls across your face, and his finger twitches. he almost moves his hand to brush the hair away, but he decides not to, settling for just watching you for another minute or two.

the bed creaks slightly when he gets up. no one uses it much, so it’s a little weary. he doesn’t think the noise is anything, but your eyes blink open. the door’s open, light from the living room illuminating a sliver of the space.

he thinks he should get out before you can ask any questions, but he doesn’t, hovering over the bed while you look around.

“andrew?” and god if it doesn’t sound different coming from your lips. you’re too tired to remember that you usually stick with mister cody, which is so formal it hurts. it sounds real, sincere, not filled with fear or anger or anything else. you haven’t even said anything and he thinks he’s losing his mind.

it’s just the way you say it. there’s no question attached, no demand, no sacrifice. just you, making sure it’s him.

“that couch is bad for your back,” he says.

he knows it is, the couple times he tried to lay down and stare at the ceiling. he’s always sore, muscles screaming and joints aching but he knows how to ignore it. he doesn’t think you should start feeling like that. feels angry at the very idea that you would be sore after spending a night on the couch, taking care of his niece, looking after baz’s house. doing all the things that he’s too busy to do.

you take care of things. you do a good job too—figuring out how to get lena to eat and sleep again. making sure her routine doesn’t go awry just because he’s gone on a job all day. you remember things that he doesn’t even know about—activities with kids after school and how the school has soccer practice starting soon. you think a couple steps ahead when it comes to lena, and sometimes, he doesn’t think you see it as a job.

like when you make enough breakfast for the three of you. leave dinner on a plate inside the microwave with a note on the counter. when you clean like it’s your house, make sure things stay in the place they’re supposed to, which is so much harder when there’s a kid around. he’s not stupid—it’s why he gives you so much money each week, shoves an envelope into your hand despite your protests. why the first thing he does after he gets his cut is make sure you get yours.

and as hard as the thought is to swallow, he doesn’t think he could do all of this without you.

“mmh-” you agree, making a soft noise. he wishes he could engrain it into his brain and replay it whenever he wants. “i thought you don’t sleep?” you ask, and he sees your lips turn up into a smile. he wishes the lights were on.

“i try,” he replies, realizing that he’s still hovering over you. he wonders why you weren’t scared the moment you woke up. “sometimes. i try.”

“do you wanna try now?” you ask, whispering. and he goes silent—because what is he supposed to say that?

you reach out in the dark for his hand, and he flinches, taking it back. but you don’t retreat, reaching out again until you’re grasping his fingers.

“try for a couple hours. i set an alarm,” you say, and the way you say it, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea. you have a way of convincing him, or maybe it’s just late and you’re tired, and your sleepy voice isn’t helping matters. nor does the fact that you don’t seem even remotely concerned that you’re inviting him to come sleep on the bed next to you.

you sit up a little, and he regrets even staying as long as he did. you need your sleep, unlike him. you’re still holding onto his hand, and your skin is warm on his. it couldn’t really be, but it feels like it’s burning his, where your palm rests against his, where your fingers twist with his.

“hey,” you start, slow and soft. “don’t think about it. just sleep for a little.”

“yeah,” he says. “okay. a little.”

you move over, and when he lays down—back straight against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling—it’s warm where your body was resting. you’re still holding onto his hand, not letting go. your grip is loose enough that he could free his hand easily, and even if it wasn’t, he could overpower you if he wanted.

but he doesn’t want to. and somewhere between your slow breaths and how you rub his knuckles, running your soft skin against dozens of old scars—because that’s his punching hand—andrew falls asleep.

you can hear it, his breaths getting steady, evening out. your hands stay together in the middle of the bed, between you, and you wonder for a split second how you’re going to deal with this in the morning, how you’ll make sense of this in daylight. the semblance of a professional relationship you had maintained this entire time might turn into dust in a couple hours. and then you breathe in andrew’s comforting scent, clean linen and saltwater, and fall back asleep.

the best thing about this house is the light and the waves. golden rays pour in through the half-way open blinds and you can hear the ocean crashing against the rocks in the distance. it’s the perfect way to wake up, even if it is six-thirty and your alarm is going off in the living room, where your phone must be.

you need to get up. you don’t want lena to wake up from the noise, even though you know she won’t—that girl can sleep through anything. it’s a problem for when she’s older, when she goes to college and there’s no one besides a roommate to make sure she doesn’t miss class. even half-asleep, you smile thinking about it.

and somehow, when you look on the other side of the bed, it hits you that it wasn’t a dream. andrew is asleep next to you, still in whatever clothes he was wearing throughout the day. a short sleeved button up and pants. you’re surprised that he didn’t fall asleep with his shoes on.

he looks very calm when he sleeps. the lines of tension on his forehead and around his eyes are soft when he’s like this, his hair a mess and cheek smushed against the pillow, against your hand.

he’s still holding your hand. it makes a certain kind of warmth rain all over you, flooding you from inside out. he’s on top of the covers and you’re under the throw blanket, and you don’t remember doing that, which means that he did.

an exhausted, half-asleep andrew cody covered you up before he fell asleep on top of the covers. he fell asleep holding your hand and your chest hurts because he won’t wake up holding it still, since you need to go turn that stupid alarm off.

he never sleeps, you know this. he’s never been asleep when you show up early, never heading to bed when you leave for the day. this bed is pretty much always made, sheets never rustled and not a pillow out of place because no one sleeps here. you hope you can start changing that.

you don’t want to pull your hand away from him. it’s so simple, so sweet that you can’t bring yourself to do it. that this whole time, andrew just needed someone to sleep beside him. you rest your head back on the pillow, continue staring, creepy as it is. you’ve never been able to study him like this before, have never been close enough.

the hand holding onto yours is softer than you’d imagined. the veins running through his forearm are thick and tense, even when he’s like this. you think it might be from how tightly he’s holding onto your hand, like even in his sleep he’s worried he might lose you somehow.

andrew cody has freckles—all across his arms and on his hands too. there’s a splatter of them across his nose and cheeks, places where he must have gotten burnt as a kid, maybe when he was lena’s age. the tips of his ears flush pink while he sleeps, and he snores. all things that make you smile, things that are so personal you feel your face getting warm, like you shouldn’t have access to that information.

you need to turn that god-damn alarm off, before it wakes him up. you think you’d rather die than disrupt the few hours of peaceful sleep he’s getting right now. so you wriggle your hand, trying to find the best way to get it out of his grip and make sure you don’t wake him in the process. nothing’s working, even in his sleep he’s thrice as strong as you. the generic alarm tone keeps going in the background.

you lean in, pressing a chaste kiss to andrew’s cheek, whispering that you promise to be right back. and for a split second he moves around, and you regain control of your tingling hand.

the bed creaks a little when you get up, but you do it slowly so it’s not too loud. walk to the couch as fast as your bare feet will take you, looking down and realizing you’re still in andrew’s socks.

(his shirt and boxers too, but you’re choosing to ignore that for now. if someone walked in through the front door in this moment, it would look like you and him were something other than a guardian and babysitter. you think you’d actually enjoy trying to see him explain to his brothers why you’re in his clothes head to toe. you might like this more than you think you did.)

you can hear the ocean again once the alarm is turned off. it’s a beautiful thing to wake up too, you think, pulling open the curtains and looking outside on the street. people are on runs, doing yoga on the beach, watching the sunrise with their dogs.

and inside, andrew cody is sound asleep.

the first part of your day is waking up lena. she grumbles and takes five, sometimes ten, minutes to get up after you go in there. in that time, you set out clothes for her and then head back to the kitchen. you have a habit of making sure her backpack has everything—the colorful pens she’s always telling you about and yesterday’s homework. if she forgot something at home, the school would call andrew, and then andrew would call you, and you hate adding more work to his life. so, you make sure it’s all there before she leaves.

then breakfast—eggs and toast if you’re running late, pancakes if you got there early. it’s seeming like a pancake sort of day.

you make the batter and then pull out the bag of chocolate chips and head back to lena’s room. you use the semi-sweet morsels as an incentive to get her up, which works like a charm. while she’s changing and brushing her teeth, you make three pancakes. two for lena, and the first one you peeled that’s never quite as good is for you.

lena comes to the table to eat her pancakes, and you tell her to stay just a little quieter than usual because her uncle pope is still sleeping.

“really?” she asks, and you feel something inside of you twist in discomfort. as if you had imagined before you met him, maybe he was sleeping, that maybe this was something recent. you smile at lena.

“yeah, sweetie, really.”

you bring lena to school, come back home, and check on andrew—who is still sleeping. you cover him up with the blanket you’d slept under and then make three more pancakes and some scrambled eggs. there’s no bacon in the house or you would have made that too.

you scribble it on the grocery list and then head back inside the bedroom, carefully perching yourself on the edge of the bed and maybe a little too comfortable, too quick, run your fingers through his messy hair. he sighs against the pillow and it makes you smile immediately. you keep going, fingers not stopping until you see his eyes fluttering open. you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, though you don’t want to stop either.

“i made breakfast,” you say quietly. andrew looks up at you, and then to your slept-in side of the bed. he moves, sitting up in the bed and you take back your hand tentatively. his hair is soft like you’d imagined.

he wipes his face with his hands, rubbing at his eyes. and when he looks at you, you feel any prudence that once was inside you melt away. well-rested, sleepy andrew cody, waking up in the bed you shared last night, while you tell him about the pancakes you made for him. you couldn’t have imagined this, for some reason, which makes it feel all the more real.

“what time is it?” he asks, in a gruff, sleepy voice.

“almost nine, i think.” he looks up at you quickly.

“lena?”

“i brought her to school already. you-you were sleeping. i didn’t want to wake you.”

“when did you get up?”

“six-thirty. my alarm. remember?” you do remember telling him about it before you fell asleep, one of the last things you had said in a conversation that feels like it was light-years ago.

“yeah.” you know better than to expect anything right now. he’s always been quiet, sentences curt and expressions relatively blank. you’ve had a few hours to simmer in it—think about what’ll happen tomorrow and next week and what it means to sleep in the bed next to the man whose niece you babysit. he just woke up a few minutes ago.

“well, there’s pancakes. and eggs. there’s no bacon but i’ll go get some later-”

“did you eat?” you catch his eye. perched on the bed next to him, you can see more than just green. brown too, around his pupils. not nearly as sad as they had seemed yesterday.

“yeah. i had one.”

“just one?” you don’t have an answer for that, but unusually confident, you stand up.

“i’ll have a bite of yours if you come eat with me.”

and though you couldn’t have imagined it last night, you end up leaning against the counter with andrew, splitting bites of chocolate-chip pancakes (yours drenched in syrup, his comparably dry as a bone), and luke-warm scrambled eggs.

he washes the dishes, and you put them away. it’s incredibly domestic.

“i’m sorry about your clothes,” you say, sliding a plate back into the cupboard. “um, i’ll wash everything today.” you had to bring it up at some point.

and then andrew turns to look at you. head to toe, he stares, gaze flicking up and down for what seems like eons. you don’t have a guess for why, maybe he’s trying to decide if he’ll accept your apology.

(he’s trying to memorize it, capture it like a picture in his brain, seal it up and hold onto it forever. how you look right now—his white shirt, with nothing underneath, which must be why he can see the outline of your breasts when you turn to put another dish away. his boxers, that you bunched up around your waist, his socks, one rolled up around your ankle and the other halfway up your calf. did you go to the school drop-off in his clothes, too?)

“and i can wash your jacket too, i’m sorry. it was kind of cold and i don’t know where my hoodie is. i-i’m sorry.”

he turns to look at you again. you seem worried, chewing on your cheek, waiting for his answer.

“don’t wash the jacket,” he says, and turns back to the sink. he doesn’t want it to stop smelling like you, but you don’t need to know that.

“yeah. sure. i won’t. sorry again, andrew.”

his heart thuds in this chest at the realization that you might never go back to calling him mister cody.

the two of you finish the dishes. he wipes up the counter while you put away lena’s things, and then he grabs his keys and puts on his shoes. you stand there watching, feeling awfully close to something like a wife watching her husband about to leave her for the day. and when you open your mouth, you can’t stop it from coming out.

“do you know when you’ll be back?”

“i’ll be here for dinner. can you pick up lena?” he doesn’t want to leave you, but there’s about ten texts and three missed calls on his phone that he needs to deal with. when he shrugs his jacket on, it does, in fact, smell like you. it might be enough to keep him calm the rest of the day.

“yeah, of course. well.. i’ll go start the laundry.” a vision of you peeling off your—his—clothes plagues his mind momentarily. “i’ll see you later?” you say, smiling hesitantly.

and without thinking too much about it, andrew comes up close to you, leans in a little awkwardly, and kisses your forehead.

“i’ll see you later.” he leaves you there in his shirt and socks, blinking stupidly at the door.

andrew does come back for dinner. you make an attempt at chicken parm at lena’s request, which really just turns out to be a sort of chicken parm-casserole situation, but lena likes it and the garlic bread tastes good, so you will call it a win for now.

while you’re simmering sauce and frying the cutlets, your mind flicks through everything you know about lena’s uncle. he’d never once been anything but nice to you—nice is one way to put it. polite is another. courteous, appropriate, reserved.

one night you had been waiting for him so you could leave, and he’d come home with lena’s other uncles. you had introduced yourself and smiled nicely, and when you left and gotten into your car, it hadn’t turned on. you remember debating if you should go back inside or just call triple a and wait, but somehow, andrew had known something was wrong. he had come out a few minutes later, told you that he would drive you home while his brother stayed at home and that he’d be back in a minute.

he’d dropped you off at home and told you he’d come get you in the morning. and you had slept anxiously that night, wondering what was wrong with your car and how much of a disturbance it would be to andrew to come get you.

but after the two of you had dropped lena off at school—again, disturbingly domestic—he brought you back to the house. and without any words at all, he worked on your car while you sat and watched. you held a flashlight when he needed it, and he said it shouldn’t happen again when he was done.

and you guess that’s the kind of man andrew cody is.

true to his word, andrew comes home in time to eat dinner with you and lena. after dinner, since it’s friday, you let her have a brownie and a half, the ones you’d made earlier that day. you have one too and you offer one to andrew, but he shakes his head, and you’re only mildly disappointed.

you haven’t been home, so you’re wearing one of the dresses from the wrong overnight bag you’d brought here. (your disappointment goes away when you notice that he hasn’t stopped staring at your exposed thighs since the minute he walked through the door.)

lena watches a cartoon before bed and you try to clean up the rest of the kitchen, but it’s hard, since andrew’s done most of the leg-work already. he tucks lena in and you gather your belongings—and true to your word, you did laundry and put his clothes back in the exact place you found them.

(you did steal another pair of socks, but you hardly think he minds now. he kissed you goodbye this morning like he was actually your husband, or something, and every minute you spend in this house washing dishes and scrubbing counters next to him is not helping. he stares at the straps of your dress like he could slip them off your shoulder with his mind, like it’s the only thing he’s thinking about. you don’t mind.)

“she’s out,” he says, coming back into the living room. you’re sitting on the couch, knees tucked to your chest while you change the channel to one of those documentaries you’ve been so fond of recently. you turn to smile at andrew and he comes and takes a seat next to you.

“that’s good. i can go soon.” but you make no effort to move, staring at the screen in front of you. this one is about sea-life, shades of blue flooding ahead of you both.

“you can stay,” andrew says, quiet like always. “if you want.” his voice is deep and gravelly, and the words he says scratch an itch somewhere deep inside of you, and the relief is visible on your body. you sink a little further into the sofa, knees falling next to andrew’s, thighs touching.

“if that’s okay with you.” you whisper it, as if saying it too loudly might make the entire idea crack open and fall apart.

you two stay like that for a while. you don’t know when, but andrew swings an arm around your shoulder, and you rest your head against his chest, collapsing into his comfortable grip. you can hear his heart beating, can feel every breath he takes. his hand brushes the top of your shoulder every time you breath, and his other hand is clasped with yours. you watch schools of fish and pods of dolphins, and you think that any other night, you could fall asleep like this.

“andrew?” you ask, still staring straight ahead. you brush your fingers over his knuckles like you had done last night, and you can feel his hand tense under your touch, until it finally relaxes. “do you want to go to bed?”

“yeah, kid,” he says. “let’s go to bed.”

and you’ll be damned if the domesticity doesn’t kick you in the stomach, sucker punch you in the chest and knock all the wind out of you. andrew turns the tv off, puts the remote back in the right place. and then he picks you up, and you make a quiet noise of surprise, underestimating him momentarily. you should know better.

one hand wraps around your legs and the other around your back, bridal-style (fitting, you think), and he sets you down on the creaky bed. you worry, how loud it’ll be and how you’ll have to be quiet but then andrew hovers over you, nothing but a tiny lamp brightening up the room, and you lose your train of thought.

“you sure you wanna do this?” he asks, that rough voice again. like you’ve thought about anything else for the last twenty-four hours. you nod quickly, bringing your hands to his chest, and then his arms, fingers tracing the sinewy veins and thrumming muscles up and down on both sides. his eyes shut while you do it, breaths getting heavy and deep. but you keep going—it’s only fair. you’ve only thought about it a million times.

“does that feel good?” you whisper, and he lets out a quiet, almost painful groan.

“y-yes,” and you smile, fingers moving on their own while you lean in for the kiss you’ve been waiting for.

andrew’s mouth is hot, and his kisses are like fire. as soon as your lips touch, he pins you all the way down, his body weight on top of yours. he kisses you the same way he had held your hand last night, the same way he held you on the couch, like you’ll slip away if he stops for even a second. your lips start to ache, but you moan quietly into his mouth, letting him swallow them while you still stroke his arms. one day, you’ll crawl into his lap and play with his hands until he’s sick of you, but today, you need to feel him.

you can’t do much from your position, but you can wrap your legs around his waist, one hand going towards his chest to pull at his shirt. he takes it off in one motion, yanking the fabric at the back until it comes off, messing up his hair while he pulls it. your free hand goes there, running through his hair again. you use it to steady yourself, gaining leverage while he keeps kissing you like there’s nothing else for him to do. like his life depends on it. he thinks it just might.

“an-andrew,” you get out in gasps, moving your mouth away for a second. “i need to breathe,” you pant, but he doesn’t stop, kisses your cheek and your jaw and buries his face in your neck. you feel the skin there between his lips, then his teeth, and you grip hard on his arm while he keeps going. you want him to keep going, you want to see the marks he leaves tomorrow and every other day. you want everyone to look at you and know that he’s the one who left them. and you think your wish is about to come true.

your fingers let go of his arms and he groans against your skin—there’s no words but you know he didn’t want you to stop. instead you guide them to both sides of his face, staring up at him and then bringing him back in for another kiss. you think you’d be perfectly content to do this forever, that you could spend hours, days, weeks in bed kissing andrew cody. that you’d be stupid to ever leave this bed, leave this house, when there’s a man here who kisses you like each touch of your lips is a prayer, like he’s here to worship.

he’s not hesitant anymore, not wondering if you’re going to pull away and walk out and ask to pretend this never happened. you keep your hands on his face, and then work down to his jaw and neck, clasping your arms around to keep him in place.

and his mind is empty. he thinks he should know what to do with you, with your labile body flush against his, all the things he’s been thinking about for the last months, if not at least what he was thinking since this morning. you’re still in your little dress, one of the thin straps fallen over your shoulder and dangling on the skin of your upper arm. he pulls away and you whine, another noise he wishes he could capture somehow. it’s a melody, one he wants to keep hearing.

you wish he hadn’t stopped the kiss, and you expect him to lean right back in after you both catch your breath, but he doesn’t. andrew’s hovering over you, eyes fixated on your shoulder, staring intently at the strap of your dress.

“andrew?” you whisper, the hand on his neck rubbing the tense skin there, wondering if you could get your kiss back. “is something wrong?”

his lovely eyes flicker up to you, staring while you swallow and wait patiently. maybe you’d been too eager, maybe he was having regrets—after all, you’re the nanny and he’s the dad and maybe you’d been too presumptuous in assuming that he wanted you as badly as you wanted him—

“no. nothing’s wrong.” you sigh a tiny breath of relief, it comes out before you even notice. but andrew is nothing if not perceptive, and he wraps his hand around your back and lays you back on his bed.

“why did you stop?” you question, flustered and embarrassed as the words come out, sounding like a spoiled child. but you suppose you had been spoiled these last few hours, getting everything you wanted—his hot touch, breathless kisses, the ability to finally see what the veins on his arms feel like under your palm.

he doesn’t answer your question, just flicks his eyes back to your shoulder. and then he leans in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the end of your collarbone, tracing more kisses down through the length of your shoulder, stopping when he reaches the skimpy cotton of your dress. you take deep breaths, watching it happen in front of you. he repeats the same with the other side, pulls the strap down like he’s unfolding a gift, kisses your skin like you’re his present. and you think you are.

there’s nothing between you two except your thin dress, and you pull on it eagerly, trying to get it off, when his hands come and stop on top of yours.

“you’ll rip it,” andrew says, fingers going towards the zipper in the back, undoing it slowly.

“i don’t care,” breathless, eager, unable to wait even another minute to get what you want. he pulls the zipper all the down, your dress falling off as your shrug out of it.

and you want another kiss, you want his touch, you want something, anything—but all you get is andrew staring at your naked body. and you think somehow this is worse than anything else, anticipation burning in your belly painfully. your thighs feel sticky and sore and your underwear is soaked through. and all he’s done is kiss you.

“you’re perfect,” he says quietly, and you feel your entire face burn hot. you don’t think you’ve ever felt like this before—and you know how andrew is. he doesn’t lie, he doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean.

you tilt your head up, pressing your lips to his for a moment, a soft kiss in contrast to the ones from earlier.

“so are you,” and you kiss him again, smiling against his mouth. he feels it, though he doesn’t smile back. and when he pulls away, he looks down at you, naked and willing in his bed, smiling up at him and telling him he’s perfect, when you don’t even know half the monster he is. “you are,” you repeat, watching andrew’s eyes as he thinks a million thoughts in his head, carries a million burdens on his shoulders. “even if you don’t believe me. i think you’re perfect.”

you feel cheesy saying it, though you know there isn’t another man in the world who needs to hear it more. you can hear him make a noise of protest, like he doesn’t think you mean it, and incredibly desperate for him to believe you, you sit up.

your hands go to sturdy shoulders while you try to get him to move, until he’s sitting back against the headboard and you can crawl onto his lap. he’s silent, watching you as you do it, exposed body flush against his skin, and yet, you don’t feel scared. you don’t feel embarrassed, or worried. you just want to make him feel good.

you start with a kiss to his jaw. andrew’s body tenses under yours, the slightest bit of contact making him groan and buck up, his hands tight on the soft skin of your waist to keep you both steady. you work your way down to his neck, pressing kisses everywhere in your path.

“do you want to know what i’ve thought about you?” you ask, though you don’t wait for an answer. you kiss down his chest, stopping at the strong muscles of his chest and the old bruises and scars that cover some of them. “i thought that you’re so good at taking care of your family.” you move down to his abs, more kisses, hearing more noises from andrew that you never would have thought he would make for you. he takes shuddering breaths, not replying to you but grunting from pleasure while you keep going. “i thought that you’re so good to me. that i don’t have to worry since i know i can always come to you.” you think of your car and the money he gives you and how you woke up in bed despite falling asleep on the couch.

finally you make your way to the waistband of his jeans, undoing the belt with surprisingly steady hands. he reaches down, his hands covering yours for a moment, but you stare up at him with your glassy eyes, not even pulling the entire belt off, just enough to get you what you need—what you want. and then you undo his zipper, tug down his boxers, and take his girthy length into your hand, stroking up and down while still staring up at him.

“can i take care of you, andrew?” and you don’t realize how it must sound to him, his head thudding back onto the pillow. you press a gentle kiss to his leaking tip, both hands wrapped around his dick and stroking while you wait for your answer.

“y-yes, yes-” and you don’t wait any longer, taking as much of andrew into your mouth as you can fit. you drive your mouth up and down, your hands twisting around the base, everything wet and warm and sticky from your spit. and you think you would do this forever, that you would do this everyday if you could hear the noises he makes and how his body takes the pleasure you give him. you gag around him, feeling his hand snake into your hair, pulling you off gently. you smile up at him, though you’re sure you look like a mess, hot tears running down your cheeks and lips shiny and wet.

but you don’t stop—licking up and down until you bring him back into your mouth. you can feel how embarrassingly wet you are right now, can feel yourself leaking onto your thighs and the sheets, wanting friction as badly as you wanted to make andrew feel good right now. and then you hear it—andrew’s moan, louder than any of the other noises and full and from the chest. he bucks up into your mouth and you take it, ready to hear what he sounds like when he finishes, when he pulls you off of him.

“andrew—” you whine, as though you were the one about to come. he pulls you up, naked bodies pushed against each other, and kisses you until you feel light-headed.

“not until you do,” he murmurs, and you feel dizzy all over again.

“but i’m not done,” still eager to kiss the rest of his body and tell him how good he is, until he starts to believe you. you wrangle out of his loose grip, knowing full well if he wanted to stop, he could have. he could pin you down and do whatever he wanted to you and you wouldn’t be able to fight him, a thought that makes you feel like you’re going to faint. but you resume quickly, starting at his shoulders—stopping to admire all the sunspots spattered there—and starting your journey again, working down his bicep and to his freckled forearm, the ones you stared at whenever the opportunity presented itself, the one you thought about all the time.

andrew doesn’t know about that, and you’re not sure you can bear to tell him. it feels too revealing, despite how you’re naked on top of him, your breasts pressed against him and wet pussy on top of his hard, leaking dick. but sure—that’s what you get nervous about.

you stop and trace all the veins with your fingers, feeling him pulse underneath you, repeating on both sides. he’s got his head tilted back, soft groans filling the empty space between you as you keep going. if they’re this sensitive for him, you can only imagine what it would feel like for you, especially the one leading down to the middle of his wrist—and then the words slip out before you can realize you had said them out loud.

your face goes hot again. he looks up at you a little confused, and you have to stop yourself from collapsing and burying your face into the pillow next to you.

“andrew?” you ask, shy and embarrassed and yet not stopping yourself at all.

“you… you like my arms?” he says, and you feel your face heat up.

but so many things have happened already that you couldn’t have even dreamt about twenty-four hours ago, so you think it’s worth a shot. (that’s a lie. you have dreamt about this, so many times that you’ve woken up in your bed covered in a cold sweat, that you’ve burned through a vibrator and ruined pillows imagining what it would be like to rub yourself against his veiny arms. you guess you’re about to find out).

your fingers trace the length of them again.

“i like everything about you,” you say quietly, understanding just how silly you sound. “but we don’t have to do anything.” you try to cover your tracts, worried you’ve just messed up the incredible time you’ve been having so far littering his body with kisses and feeling butterflies in your cunt from the fact that andrew will be inside of you soon.

“how would you-” andrew starts, and you watch him carefully as he gets out the next few words. “do it? how?” and it’s just cut and dry way he speaks, though it’s really going to your head (and other places) right now.

“well, i-”

“show me.” oh.

you feel yourself pulse and throb in response to his words. even below you, you can still feel how hard andrew is. you try to start positioning yourself, but you must be moving too slowly for him, and you feel his hand on your ass, grabbing you and pushing you up to his chest, face to face. he lays his arm next to you, watching your naked body as you try to balance yourself between it, his free arm on your hip, keeping you steady.

when you lower yourself, just an inch or two, just until you feel the ridge of his forearm and you can decide what to do after realizing that you are, in fact, doing this, andrew curses under his breath.

“fuck, you’re so wet.” he can feel it. feel you, on his arm, leaking, for him. you take a deep breath, pressing your hands against his chest to keep your balance, moving your hips up and down slowly. and your eyes flutter shut because fuck, if it isn’t better than every fantasy you’ve ever had.

you hadn’t known that your pathetic attempts to recreate this at home would have never lived up to the real thing, and now you realize you’ll never be able to go back to anything else but andrew, that no one else could make you feel this way. months of pent-up desire leave your body as you rock yourself against him, finally getting the stimulation you’ve been craving.

when you open your eyes, just for a second, you see andrew, his eyes glued to where your pussy meets his arm, his breaths heavy and deep, like he wouldn’t look away from the sight before him for anything.

and then you feel the veins rub against your clit, and your eyes roll back into your head. you keep going, trying to muffle your moans and sighs, but you can’t get the image out of your head—andrew staring at you, like he wanted this as much as you’ve wanted it, like he needs to see you cum like this. you start going faster, the friction and the slide from your juices making it easier and the veins rubbing at you just the right way—

he leans in, putting one of your peaked nipples into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it, before letting go and repeating the same with the other one. but it’s really when andrew starts talking that you’re pulled over the edge, his hand hot on your back.

“please,” he says, and you feel yourself falling into it, hanging onto every raspy word, so much better than you could have ever dreamed, “-i-i need you to cum for me. i need to feel you, i need to see it, please-”

and you do. you always listen to andrew, all the white-hot tension wound up in your belly releasing, flooding your entire body with the relief you’ve been wanting all night. your body tightens up, stopping, but he moves you with the huge hand on your hip, makes you rub on him all through it, pulling your body like you’re a toy for him.

your mind is empty while your toes curl and uncurl, thighs aching and sore in this position. andrew ushers you towards him, and you collapse on his chest, heaving and sweaty and tired—and the realization hits you that he hasn’t even been inside of you yet.

he kisses you while he has you trapped in his arms, your eyes shut as you breathe him in, moan into his mouth and let him swallow it.

“y-your arm,” you get out, realizing you’re not speaking in coherent sentences. “i’m sorry-”

“why?” he asks, and you shut up instantly. “didn’t know you liked them that much.”

he laughs quietly, a sound you have only heard a few times. you laugh against his chest for a moment, before pulling him in for another kiss. this time, it deepens, and he gets you on your back in front of him before he pulls away. you stare up at him, mind empty and chest heaving, seeing how his eyes stay on your tits, and you reach up, putting your hands on his chest while he hovers over you.

“it might hurt,” he says, and you feel your entire body tighten, your walls clench at his words. there’s nothing but truth behind his statement—it’s not meant to be arrogant or boastful, he’s warning you. it’s going to hurt, you know it is—you could barely fit half of him in your mouth and it took you both hands to be able to comfortably stroke him.

but the way he says it elicits a fire in you, and suddenly you need him now, no matter how much it hurts.

“i don’t care, andrew, please,” you beg, staring up at him. he still hovers, licking his lips and staring at your how tits bounce while you beg him to fuck you—a thought that he cannot process, even with you splayed out in front of him. he brings his arms out, fingers teasing your sensitive nipples until you’re covering your own mouth to avoid being too loud and you think you’re going to black out. (even in the dim light you can see the shine on his forearm from you, and the memory of it takes over your mind like a twister.)

“i have to stretch you out first.” the words possess your body like a demon. andrew takes your knees and spreads them apart, and no matter how hard you try to close them, you can’t compete against him. when he slides in one huge finger, your eyes roll back. he slips in so easily, the noise is obscene. the second finger goes in just as quickly, but there’s more resistance. two of his fingers are at least three of yours (if not more, you think, and then you want to faint again). the stretch is delicious, your pulsing walls realizing that this has been what you’ve been craving all along. that no toys or pillows or fingers of your own could ever compare.

when he slips a third finger in, he doesn’t change the pace. just keeps pushing them in and out of you like you’re a toy he’s testing the limits with, seeing how much you can take before you break. there’s no instructions for you besides to sit back and take it—and your toes curl and your head spins at how good he feels. the stretch hurts, but you want it so badly, you hear yourself crying out and saying incoherent things. you think you see andrew smile from where he is, watching your cunt suck his fingers in, his entire hand coated in your juices.

and when he hovers over you, bringing his tip to your entrance and prodding against you for a moment, you think you’re in heaven. he’s so flushed, tips of ears and his cheeks pink, sweat coating his body, just like yours. you can only imagine how hard he is, how you’ll get to feel how hard he is soon enough. his eyes stay at your pussy, pushing in, just barely, but you need more. you bring your hands to his arms, holding onto him while he slides in, and when you feel him push all the way in—so much bigger than you could have imagined, three of his fingers is nothing compared to this, nothing, nothing, nothing—he’s on top of you and kissing you.

whatever noises you make are tuned out—your ears are ringing and you can’t hear anything besides andrew’s grunts and moans as they come into your mouth. you keep kissing him, pulling on his lower lip and feeling his tongue on yours, but your entire body goes slack when he starts on a brutal pace, pulling all the way out and slamming into you. the bed is creaky, and the only noise besides it is the obscene one—the squelch of your soaking wet cunt taking andrew all the way, the repetitive slap of his skin meeting yours. you feel everything—the pressure of his hands while he holds you incredibly tightly, the fullness in your cunt that makes it feel like you can’t breathe.

and then andrew kisses your lips and makes a noise that makes you leak even more, and you know you’ll be just fine.

“i-i want-” he starts, and you feel him slow down the pace slightly.

“please, andrew,” you beg, and he resumes, fucking into you with an intensity that reminds you how badly he wants you, how long he’s wanted this. it reminds you of every time you caught him staring, every time you smiled at him wondering what he was thinking. and now you think you know—maybe he was thinking about something like this.

“i want another one,” he says into the skin of your neck, feeling him lick the sweat there and kiss the skin. “i want to feel it while i’m inside-” and god if you can’t comply. you want to do every single thing he tells you for the rest of your life, you don’t want to make another decision without andrew cody.

he changes the position, pulling out of you for a second and making you whine again. (spoiled, you think, he’s spoiled me for anyone else forever.) he holds both of your knees up and spreads them wide and wraps your arms around them, keeping them in place. and then he slides back inside of you in one swift movement, making your eyelids flutter shut. he doesn’t get right on top of you, leaving space between you that makes it impossible to lean in for a kiss, and you keep whining, impossibly and irrationally angry that you can’t kiss him, wondering why he wants you like this, when you feel his fingers circle your clit slowly—then quickly.

your head falls back onto the pillow. andrew can feel you pulsing around him, walls clenching every time he rubs your sensitive clit, and that’s what he wants, that’s what he needs, wants to feel you cum around his dick and squeeze him even tighter than you are right now. wants to see how you look completely fucked out, wants to see if you can give him a third. (he’ll get it, he decides, later. he’ll give you a chance to breathe, get you water after this. all the things he would do to take care of you, just like how you deserve, how a husband would take care of his wife.)

because at the end of the day, isn’t that what you two basically already are? you couldn’t be a girlfriend, because you have to get comfortable around a girlfriend.

no, he thinks, watching your fucked-out, flushed body take him like you were made for it. you already know him, know what he likes and doesn’t like, know how to make him feel good like you had been inside of his head already. you have been inside. you’re all he thinks about. that’s a wife, that is something that is forever, what the two of you have.

he doesn’t realize how hard he’s going, how fast, or how you’ve been squealing with your entire body tensing while he was stuck in his thoughts about you. this time when you finish, it explodes through you, the electric current staring from your core and spreading to every finger and toe. you jolt, legs shaking and head heavy, the after effect rolling through you while andrew keeps fucking you, keeps going even though he should probably stop. you’re incoherent, writhing and crying and feeling completely numb and like your entire body is burning all at once.

and when you blink open your watery eyes at andrew, smile sweetly and reach out for a kiss, one that he happily gives you, you say it quietly.

“i love you, andrew.” and you feel his thrusts stutter, his body weight almost collapsing on you. you feel andrew cum, feel it filling you up while you listen to his quiet moans and run your hands over his tense muscles, saying sweet things that he can barely understand in this state.

he rolls over minutes later, not pulling out until you were done kissing him. the room is filled with nothing but your heavy breaths. you need a shower, and you need to sleep.

you curl up on andrew’s chest like you had been on the couch what felt like a lifetime ago. you play with his fingers and he runs his other hand up and down the expanse of your arm. you can hear birds outside—and you know you need to get up soon, but you can’t find any words.

“you think that was enough?” andrew asks, and you look up at him with a confused expression. he looks at you with so much sincerity you feel like crying. your andrew.

“what do you mean?” you ask quietly, still not sure what he’s even talking about. your head is spinning and your eyes are tired—every part of you is tired.

“we can go again after you get some sleep. it might take more than once.”

“andrew?”

“you don’t have to worry about it. i’ll figure it out. i won’t stop until i put a baby in you.”

♡ thank you for reading

#why am i so nervous about this #pope cody #pope cody x reader #andrew cody #andrew cody x reader #andrew pope cody x reader #babysitter reader

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covenofagatha · 2 months ago

Text

Do I wanna know? (Part 6)

Agatha surprises you with a visit

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: fingering, strap, sex, mommy kink, fluff, it's almost all smut

You’ve just gotten back to your dorm room Friday afternoon after all your classes when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

It’s been a rough day with a pop quiz in Chemistry that you definitely failed and your group chat for the World History project has been blowing up, mostly with excuses as to why your other members haven’t been able to do their share of the work, so you can only imagine what it is now.

And to make matters worse, you had gone to your dad’s last night for dinner and when you had gone to the bathroom, you had found a box of condoms under his sink when you were looking for more toilet paper. It hit you like a train but you had fixed your face in the mirror and not said a word to him or to your mom when she inevitably called you after it to ask how it went. You didn’t want to talk to Agatha about it either, just because she had been married to him and it felt weird to complain or vent about that.

The only thing you want to do is collapse into Agatha’s comforting embrace and have her hold you. You are so fucking exhausted.

When you pull your phone out, you breathe a heavy sigh of relief when you see that it is Agatha. Your stomach warms. You’ve watched the video she sent you on Tuesday more times than you can count—you’ve touched yourself to it more times than you could count as well. After you got back to your dorm after dinner with Carol, she had sent you the second half of the video, in which she filmed herself coming while moaning your name.

You can still hear her breathy gasps and it’s been very distracting the past few days.

Hey, hon! Hope your day has been good. Would you be able to go to your car and send me a picture of your license plate so I can get it registered for when you come to stay with me?

You flop onto your bed and close your eyes for a few moments before whining quietly. She hasn’t texted you since this morning and now all she wants is for you to go back downstairs and take a picture of your car? Your mind is screaming at you to just do it tomorrow but you reluctantly sit up with a groan and trudge outside. At least now she’s talking to you.

The sunlight blinds you and you squint, rounding the corner of the building, and trying to remember where you parked. It’s been a few days since you drove and now you accidentally walk down the wrong row about three times.

Until you finally spot the front of it and you grumble as you walk around it and freeze—Agatha is standing right there in a casual gray blouse and black pants. Her hair is loose and catches the sunlight, making it appear a lighter shade than it is. Her blue eyes are full of joy.

“What…what are you doing here?” you ask, completely dumbfounded, but your heart swells and you laugh, taking a step closer to her and reaching out your hand to touch her just to make sure you’re not hallucinating.

She’s really there.

“Surprise?” she says sheepishly, holding out her arms and you laugh, completely giddy, as you jump into them. The force almost knocks you both down but she catches you with an oomph. You breathe in her scent and feel her hair tickle your cheeks and her fingers gently stroke your back and you can’t believe that she’s actually here.

Why is she here?

You pull back and scan her face. “I thought you had meetings this weekend.”

Agatha smiles and cups your cheek lovingly. “I did but then they got cancelled for tomorrow—something about the client having food poisoning? I was able to get out of work early today and thought I would come see you. And,” she leans in, a wicked grin on her face, “I got a hotel room.”

She slides her hands to your lower back so she can hold you tighter against her and with a sharp inhale, you feel a hardness in her pants. Your brain suddenly goes foggy and your knees almost buckle.

“Fuck,” you breathe and she nods. You feel an ache start to grow in your cunt. “Can we go now?”

Agatha chuckles and takes you by the hand to lead you to her car. You don’t have anything besides your phone and your keys, but the only thing on your mind is her.

You know you should ask about her job and New York and how she’s been doing, but it’s hard to concentrate over the thrumming of arousal in your veins and you squirm restlessly as you watch her fingers curl around the steering wheel. It’s only been a week and it’s not that you haven’t had an orgasm at all—it’s just so much different, and better, now that she’s here.

Agatha clearly feels the same urgency with quick glances to catch your eye and twitches of her hands like she’s trying to resist touching you. You have no doubt that she would already have her hand down your pants if it weren’t for the last time she tried to do that and almost crashed. She presses on the gas pedal harder than she needs to and the car shoots off down the road.

It’s as if the stoplights know where you’re going and are determined to make you wait—you hit every single red light and each time, Agatha and you both groan like you’ve been denied the world’s greatest luxury. At one point, she gets so fed up with it that she makes a right turn, a U-turn, and then another right faster than the light changes.

The air is thick with heat and tension and unspoken words brimmering just beneath the surface of the silence and finally, finally, she pulls into the parking lot of the Westview Inn, one of the nicer hotels in the town.

You both throw open the doors and when you begin following her to the entrance, you can feel the stickiness between your thighs that has pooled from the anticipation. Your stomach begins to twist, butterflies fluttering for no reason, and your palms feel clammy.

But then Agatha turns back to smile reassuringly at you from the front desk where she’s checking in and you push it away. You wipe your hands on your pants, eyes darting down to check out the swell of Agatha’s ass. There’s the sudden image of your fingers digging into her skin as she thrusts into you and you shift, antsy now with desire.

“Thank you,” Agatha says, voice curt and short, to the receptionist, before swiping the keys from her hand and walking back toward you. She breezes past you and you jog to catch up to the elevators. Agatha taps the roomkey against her hand impatiently while you wait and finally, the doors ding open.

She clicks the button for the fifth floor and the moment the doors shut, she’s pressing you against the side and her mouth is on yours. You moan and the sound is swallowed by her and her tongue is moving against yours and you close your eyes to soak her in. She tastes of cinnamon and coffee and you suck on her bottom lip to savor it.

The elevator stops and Agatha practically drags you by the hand to room 513. Your shoes are soft against the plush gray carpet, low lights on the plastered walls, and you wonder how many other people come here for a romantic rendezvous with their lover.

This is the hotel that Agatha stayed at after she moved out of the house she shared with your dad and walking down the hall gives you a sense of déjà vu.

The room looks exactly the same. The fuzzy dark carpet, the small kitchenette, square table with two chairs, and the mossy green couch across from the television. Past the combined living room and kitchen is the narrow hallway to the bedroom, doors to the bathroom and the closet facing each other on the sides.

The only real difference is the painting that hangs in the living room. The one in Agatha’s old room was of a dock on a lake. This one is a ferris wheel.

You can’t help but think it’s almost fitting. Even though so much has changed since then, ending up back here like you have something to hide is a full-circle moment.

Will you ever get off the wheel?

Once you move to New York, you assure yourself. There won’t be any more sneaking around, if that’s even what this is.

“Just like old times,” Agatha says fondly. You smile halfheartedly, the thought of no real progress being made yet sobering you up just a little, but then she pulls you in closer and kisses you softly. The hardness in her pants presses against your upper thigh and you lose yourself in the feeling of her.

She cups your cheeks to deepen the kiss and you wrap your arms around her shoulders. You pour all of your emotions into it—the joy at seeing her and how sad you’ve been without her and how much you’ve missed her and how much you love her.

Agatha starts to walk backwards, pulling you with her, and you don’t ever want to let her go.

The king-sized bed is so perfectly made that it almost feels wrong to mess it up. Agatha must be thinking the same thing because she pushes you gently against the wall and slots a thigh between yours for you to grind on. She tugs on your bottom lip with her teeth and you groan, slowly rutting against her leg. The pressure on your clit is delicious but fleeting and you hike one of your own legs up to get a better angle. Agatha’s hand slips to the back of your thigh to hold you up like that and she presses her thigh against you harder.

“Agatha,” you pant, “I need you.”

She smirks against your lips and her fingers slide up, now splayed against your hip, and she helps you move against her, helps you settle into a rhythm. The pleasure is dulled by the three layers of fabric separating your cunt from her leg but you grind down harder to feel more. Her other hand strokes up your side, her heat seeping through your shirt, and it makes your core feel like molten liquid. It feels like the room is spinning, like you’re drunk on her, and you whimper into her mouth.

“What do you need, baby?” she murmurs. She pulls back from you, just a hair, so her gaze can smugly flick from your eyes down to your swollen lips and back up.

You take her hand from your side and without breaking eye contact, drag it down your body until your fingers pause at the waistband of your pants. She toys with the hem, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Is this what you want?” she asks innocently, dipping the tips of her fingers down inside. You moan at her bare skin against your public bone and nod frantically. She chuckles, breath heavy, and slides her fingers further until her middle finger is resting against your clit. You sharply inhale and she smiles. “How about this?”

You keen when she presses against your clit and rubs a small circle around it, your hips jerking. Her hand is now sandwiched between your cunt and her thigh and you slightly pull up so she can have a little more room to work.

She watches your face carefully as she moves her fingers to tease at your entrance through your panties, watches how your jaw slackens and your teeth find your bottom lip. Her eyes are hooded as they scan your face and the heat in them sends currents right to your cunt.

“Please,” you whine. Agatha leans in to ghost her lips over yours as she pushes her fingers into your entrance slightly, soaking your underwear even more. You gasp.

“I know you can do better than that,” she says in a low, taunting voice and expertly peels the gusset of your underwear to the side.

Your hips rock but her fingers are hovering just out of reach from your cunt, but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off them. “Please, Agatha,” you pant, chasing her lips with your own before pulling back, “I need you to fuck me, I’ve missed you so much, please mommy—”

Two of her fingers plunge into your cunt and your jaw drops with a guttural moan. Your eyes roll back in your head and your walls clench around her tightly. She lets out a small gasp and her forehead drops to rest against yours.

“Fuck, baby, I’ve missed this—I’ve missed you,” she groans and draws her fingers out of you. Your hips buck to get her touch back and she quickly resheathes her fingers inside you. She curls them and finds your special spot, the spot she always intuitively knows how to find because she might know you better than you know yourself at this point.

Her thumb swipes at your clit and you spasm, back arching off the wall and burying your hands into her dark locks. You hike your leg up higher against her waist with her help so she can get deeper and the pressure in your core makes you see stars. She’s moving fast and rough and you yelp when she twists her fingers inside you harshly.

You pull her even closer against you, crash your lips onto hers, and moan into her open mouth. She returns it, tongue sloppily stroking yours, and you feel light, almost like you could float away.

But you’re grounded when she starts to rub your clit and your core muscles tighten. Her lips trail down your cheek and to your neck where she sucks on your skin. A thrill runs through you at the thought of having marks from her, so when she goes back to New York you can look at your reflection and remember that she owns you. That you’re all hers.

She scrapes her teeth along the length of your jugular and then bites at the juncture of your shoulder and neck and you make a strangled noise.

And then Agatha stills her fingers inside you with a wicked grin and you struggle to keep the rhythm going, furiously grinding back and forth and trying to make up for the stimulation you just lost. With each roll of your hips, her fingers are forced deeper and she bites her lip while she watches you.

“Agatha, please,” you beg, pleading with your eyes, and she smirks.

“What is it, baby?” she coos and slowly begins thrusting into you again. Your head falls back against the wall, mouth agape. “Need mommy’s fingers to fuck you good? Need mommy to fill you up the way only I can?”

You nod frantically and she smiles, satisfied.

“That’s my girl.”

She scissors her fingers and then curls and then pauses to fit a third one into you. You keen again, wetness squelching with each of her thrusts. You’re so full and tension is spreading throughout your whole body. You gasp each time she drives her fingers back into you and you’re a panting, shaking mess.

Just for her.

“Agatha, mommy, I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna come,” you babble and she huffs out a laugh and rubs your clit faster. Sparks fly in your stomach and up your spine and your cunt grips her fingers.

She pulls your leg that’s bent at her waist up even higher and her fingers reach a new depth inside you and the tension in your body explodes and you come all over her hand with a long moan. Her fingers keep fucking you, slowing down only the slightest bit, until you have to weakly push at her shoulders to get a break.

Agatha pulls her fingers out of you carefully but you still wince at the sudden emptiness before bringing her hand out of your pants and holding up her glistening digits to the afternoon light streaming in through the blinds.

Without being asked, you grab her wrist and envelope her fingers in your mouth, moaning sultrily at the taste of yourself. Her pupils dilate even more, almost no blue left at all, and she tugs her fingers out and sucks them into her own mouth. It’s like the air gets kicked out of your lungs when she closes her eyes and hums, like the mixture of your pussy and your saliva is too much for her to bear.

When her fingers slide out with a wet pop, you drag her to you again by her hair, connecting your lips in the middle and your faint taste on her tongue dances with the hint of cinnamon.

She pulls back, spins the two of you around, and then gently pushes you toward the bed. You take the hint, stripping off your shirt, underwear, and pants in the process, and watch in awe, perched on the edge of the bed, as she takes off her clothes too.

“Did you drive all the way here with that on?” you tease, nodding your head to the harness around her hips with your favorite purple strap-on protruding from it.

Agatha chuckles and strokes the length with her wet hand and you can see the smears of your juices along it. “Don’t be silly. I put it on once I got here. But thinking about it the whole drive? Fuck.” She moves closer to the bed like a lion stalking its prey. She stops right in front of you and tilts your head up by your chin even though your eyes keep darting back down to the toy. “Almost had to pull over to take care of myself.”

Your breath catches at the image of her in her parked car on the side of the highway, hand furiously working in her pants.

She smirks. “But you’re going to take care of mommy, aren’t you? Once mommy takes care of you?”

“Anything you want,” you say earnestly. Everything is already yours.

“That’s my good girl,” Agatha says softly and your insides grow warm. She strokes your cheek, a moment of gentleness in the otherwise hot and heavy sea you’ve been swimming in.

You yearn for more, but the ache inside your cunt is throbbing. The toy is only a few inches away from you when you look back down and you grab ahold of the tip and pull her to you.

Slowly reclining back onto the bed, she follows until she’s looming over you, arms bracketed around your head. Your fingers are still wrapped around the strap-on and you start to stroke it. Judging by the way her face contorts with pleasure, she can at least feel the base rub against her clit with each drag of your hand.

Agatha leans down to pepper kisses to your chest. She runs her tongue along the edge of your bra, a trail of goosebumps following in the wake, and you moan softly. You angle the toy so the tip is pressed against your clit and you raise your hips up to rub. It feels so good against your sensitive nub and you can feel how slick your inner thighs are. The wetness between them only keeps growing.

It doesn’t take long for you to work yourself up again but Agatha either doesn't notice or wants to drag it out, as she merely moves to mouthing at your nipple through your bra.

So you grip onto her shoulders and tense your body and flip so she’s on her back and you’re on top of her.

Agatha chuckles adoringly and runs her hands up your sides and fiddles with your bra. “Take it off, baby,” she rasps. “I want to see you.”

Heat flashes through you and you nod, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. Agatha swallows hard and cups your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples.

She’s still in her bra, a lacy green one, and you paw at it, desperate to see her too. She chuckles and sits up for a moment, unclasping it and then shrugging it off her shoulders. Her nipples are hard and pointing, a dusty rose color, and you can’t resist the urge to bend down and suckle on one of them. She moans and arches up beneath you, pushing the toy against your pussy and you grind down. You scrape your teeth against her, enjoying her sharp breath, before settling back onto her lap.

You reach between you to position the tip at your entrance and sit down just slightly. The head of the toy pops in and your head falls back at the stretch.

“Fuck,” you groan, slowly starting to bounce on the tip to get used to it. Your walls burn but eventually accommodate the length and girth and you’re able to slide all the way down. You stay seated, feeling how deep she is inside you and Agatha begins to rub at your clit soothingly.

“Such a good girl, taking mommy’s cock so well,” she croons and you clench around her. Every breath you take, you can feel her filling you up deliciously. You nod, more to yourself than to her, because it’s been awhile since you’ve had anything so big in you. “Think you can start moving?”

You rock forward in response to her pressing on your clit hard and moan when the toy presses against your g-spot. “Yeah, mommy,” you say breathlessly and slowly sit up, your cunt lips dragging against the toy.

She looks at the strap once just the tip is left inside you and lets out a guttural sound—it is absolutely coated with your wetness. Heat flares inside you and you take the length back inside you, moving down easier this time.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby,” she says when you begin to build up a steady pace of riding her. She thrusts her hips up with each of your drives down and you’re both panting and sweaty in no time. Agatha rubs your clit and you stop for a second to swirl your hips around, feeling her in every ridge in your cunt, and you groan loudly.

“Mommy, feels so good,” you whine, resting your hands on her ribcage to get more leverage to continue moving up and down on the toy. You dig your nails in and when you slide your fingers up to play with her boobs, you delight in the indents in her pale skin.

“I know, baby,” Agatha grunts, pistoning her hips up hard now and making you gasp each time. She’s hitting so deep inside you and there’s an intense, hot pressure feeling inside you. Your movements grow sloppy and gradually turn into short, shallow rutting because your muscles are starting to get stiff, but you try to persevere. “You’re taking mommy’s cock so well, fuck, honey, you’re so pretty—such a good girl for me.”

Her words make you stutter and you whimper while you writhe on top of her. She sees your struggle and grips onto your hips before flipping you over, a role reversal mirroring your one from earlier. The toy never leaves your cunt but you clench around her tightly when she shoves your legs up and you bend your knees to cross your ankles around her lower back. Agatha drops to her forearms, face merely inches away from yours, and she begins driving the strap into you over and over roughly.

There’s no thoughts in your head and you think you’re babbling something incoherently because she’s smiling down at you, cheeks red, forehead vein throbbing. Her nose brushes against yours and she’s breathing into your open mouth, you’re breathing her air right back, and she suddenly slows her pace down. Her eyes scan your face with a seriousness you haven’t seen before.

“What—mommy—Agatha—” you gasp and she stops entirely, toy hilted all the way in you. Your walls clench around her, trying to get her to start moving again, but she has a strange look on her face.

Agatha strokes your hair and meets your eyes. “I love you,” she whispers and your breath catches in your throat.

“What?”

She laughs like that’s a ridiculous thing for you to say and kisses you softly. Your clit throbs.

When she pulls back, you study her. She’s not looking at you with any expectation, just honesty. “I love you, too,” you say softly.

She smiles and thrusts into you, just once, but it’s deep. Your walls tighten and you inhale sharply.

“I said it before, you know,” you tell her and Agatha thrusts again. “When we were on your couch.”

She begins to pick up her pace, but keeps it gentle. Loving. “I know,” she admits and you gape at her. “I didn’t know if it was just a spur of the moment thing. You didn’t say it again and I didn’t want to freak you out by asking about it. But—” Agatha kisses you before nipping at your bottom lip, “—I’ve been wanting to say it for a while.”

You roll your hips up to match each of her thrusts and feel a pleasure greater than almost anything you’ve ever felt before. She reaches down between you to rub at your clit again and your walls convulse.

“I have, too,” you say and she smirks, scooting up closer to you which forces your legs up higher and allows her to get even deeper. Her fingers slip off your clit with how much of a soaked mess you are and you arch your back off the bed. Your vision blurs from pleasure and electricity races underneath your skin.

“Fuck, baby, I love you so much,” Agatha groans, her other hand digging into your hip, keeping you angled up as she pounds into you. With the way she’s faltering ever-so-slightly, you think she might be getting somewhere too. “You’re so fucking perfect—fuck, you’re mommy’s good girl, want you to come all over my cock, honey, please—fuck, I’m gonna—”

Your moan interrupts her as you come, any resolve you had left absolutely shattering, and there’s a gush of wetness from your pussy that soaks her stomach. She groans and falls apart too, her lips crashing onto yours, messy but perfect and even though you need to breathe, you don’t pull away.

You never want to.

She fucks you through both of your orgasms, whispering “I love you” over and over, but the words never lose their meaning. You say it right back and it overlaps until everything bleeds together and then her mouth is on yours again for what seems like hours.

When you start to shiver, Agatha pulls out of you gingerly, smirking at the pool of liquid beneath you. You remain on your back, absolutely spent, while she climbs off the bed, unfastens the harness straps, and slides it down her legs. Your clit throbs weakly at the pink lines on her skin.

She leaves the bedroom for a moment and comes back in with a washcloth. It’s warm and wet and you gasp when she cleans your cunt off. Agatha winks knowingly and you giggle.

“Do you think you can get up for just a second?” she asks and you groan exaggeratedly before rolling off the side onto your feet. She playfully swats your ass before pulling the duvet down and gesturing for you to slide under the covers.

You happily do and the moment she gets in next to you, you curl into her and she tucks an arm around you. Your eyelids feel heavy but you fight them because you want to spend as much time with Agatha as you possibly can before she goes back.

But her warm fingers lazily stroke your back and she leans down to kiss your forehead before whispering again, “I love you,” and you fade off into sleep.

Taglist: @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 @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @vyvvycg @upsidedowndanvers @agathaallalongg

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #covsfics #do i wanna know

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luveline · 6 months ago

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would you be able to do hotch’s adult daughter meeting the team?

—Hotch introduces his daughter to the team. 1.3k

“Aaron?”

He’s grateful you didn’t call him Mr. Hotchner, but dad might not hurt. “Everything okay, honey?” he asks the phone.

“Sure, um. This might be presumptuous and, like, embarrassing for me, but my last class got cancelled and I was wondering if I can come to your office today?”

He feels his brows rise of their own accord. He checks his watch. You’ve picked a good day to want to come. “Sure, it’s quiet here.”

“You don’t want me to explain why?”

“Presumptuous and embarrassing for me, I thought it might be to see your dear old dad.”

You laugh funny on the other side, like Jack when he’s surprised. “Kind of. I do want to see you, but I was wondering what it’s like. In the FBI, I mean.”

“You’re interested?”

“In working there?” you ask.

“It’s fine if you were, you don’t have to worry.”

“It looks too intense for me, but… yeah, I guess I want to know what you do all day. I don’t know anything about that part of your life, and it’s such a big part of it.”

He’s trying hard to say Yes to you at every opportunity, and this yes is easy. He sends a car to get you because he can, preparing himself for a lot of fawning and surprise. The BAU team, namely, Spencer, Derek, JJ, Emily, Dave, and Penelope, know who you are, but the office itself has little knowledge of you. There was chatter the day you turned up here unannounced. You haven’t been to the office since.

He exits his office and finds Spencer, Emily, and Derek in the bullpen doing their paperwork, among other things. Derek’s peeling an orange. Spencer has his nose in a book despite a hand on the computer mouse.

“Are you ready?” he asks them.

“For what, the round table?” Emily asks.

“Y/N’s coming into the office.”

Three backs straighten in unison. “The kid?” Derek asks with a grin. He’s the only one who’s actually met you, and it drives the others mad with jealousy.

“My kid, yes,” he says. He can’t help smiling. “She wants to see what we do. Please don’t show her anything with blood or gore, though. Please.”

“Scout’s honour,” Emily says, standing from her desk to brush herself down. “Out of everything that’s happened when I started here, is it strange that this is the craziest?”

“It’s up there,” Spencer says.

“It’s certainly the nicest surprise I’ve had,” Aaron says, not quite missing the look Emily and Derek share even as he spots you at the office doors with your visitor’s pass clipped to the belt of your skirt.

He walks to meet you, lest the sheer sea of faces intimidate you. “Everything okay?” he asks.

You pull your jacket tighter around you, but it’s not a warm thing —if anything, it seems to be a stiff cardigan, grey and white plaid with ornate buttons. “It’s freezing out there.”

“You’ll feel much warmer in a minute. The heat has been on high all day, JJ’s orders.” He slips his hand behind your back and shepherds you to the bullpen. “Honey, these are some of the members of my team. Supervisory special agents Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid.”

“Emily,” Emily says, thrusting her hand forward to shake.

“Spencer,” Spencer adds, managing to escape a handshake as Derek steps in.

“Derek Morgan,” he introduces himself, shaking your hand with a warm smile. “I can see now why you were reluctant to tell me what you were here for.”

Your smile goes sideways, like you’re startled, but pleased nonetheless, “I– honestly, I thought you’d make me leave if you heard what I had to say. It’s still not believable.”

“You sound like him,” Spencer says. “Not masculine, but–”

“Mellifluous,” you and Aaron say at the same time.

“Exactly.”

“Freaky,” Emily says, though her smile is brilliant.

When Aaron sat the team down to tell them, it wasn’t because he necessarily wanted to. He loves you as any man loves their child even if he still has mountains to learn about you, and the urge to brag about you doesn’t go away, but he was hoping he wouldn’t have to answer so many questions about you at the time. As far as anybody in Aaron’s life knows, he and Haley haven’t ever split, it was a private parting, and so the first thing he sensed from everyone was a shift in image. “I didn’t cheat on Haley,” he’d said quickly, with a suffering sigh, “we were broken up at the time.”

“Like, on a break?” Emily had asked, cringing.

No, not really. Aaron assumed he and Haley were broken up permanently when he slept with your mother, but that brief relationship cemented for him that he loved his now-wife. Now that the team know he’s not an adulterer, the only thing he has while presenting you to them is pride.

“Y/N’s class was cancelled today, so I’m going to show her around the office and give her some insight into what we do here,” he says, catching your attention with a grin. “It’s not as though you need today's lecture, hm? She’s nearly the top of her class.”

You shake your head at him, beaming but mortified, “Don’t.”

“If she didn’t work so hard–”

“He’s trying to get me to quit my job,” you tell the others. “He’s overbearing.”

“We know,” Emily says.

“I just think that now is a time for studying, and you’ve worked hard enough already.”

You shift marginally closer to him. Most people wouldn’t notice, but Aaron does, and he suspects his team do to. “I’m fine doing both,” you say.

He’s sure he’ll win the argument one day. For now, he escorts you through the office to the round table, then his office, pulling you into Rossi’s office for a charming hello and then to JJ’s, where you’re greeted with excitement and a disarming amount of love. Aaron forgets sometimes how much he and his team have been through together. You really are a good surprise.

“Where are we going now?” you ask, following Aaron down a long corridor.

He smiles. “You don’t have a sensitivity to high-pitched noises, do you?”

Your confusion is plain on your face. Aaron takes you to a familiar door, placard reading in big, black letters: PENELOPE GARCIA, BAU TOP TECH AND DATA ANALYST. It’s surrounded by pink heart shaped stickers.

He knocks the ajar door politely. “Garcia?” he asks.

“Sir?” Penelope says back.

He eases open the door with his foot. Penelope turns in her chair, blonde hair in windswept curls, her lips painted a pink-orange.

“Garcia, this is Y/N, my daughter.”

Penelope’s mouth falls open. “I know who she is,” she says, nearly monotonous.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say. “I’ve heard so much about you. I love your trinkets,” you add, nodding at her wild desk.

Penelope gives Aaron a pleading look. He nods.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god!” Penelope says, rushing forward to throw her arms around you. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

You laugh and bow gently under her weight. “Me neither,” you say sincerely.

“Oh my gosh. Oh my god,” she says, pulling away to smile at Aaron, “she sounds like you, you weren’t kidding! How is it possible that she sounds like you?”

“Strong genetics?” he suggests.

“I’ve never been this happy in my life,” Penelope says.

He watches you take Penelope’s excited hand and thinks, that makes two of us.

“You’re so adorable, I’m looking for Hotch in your face but you don’t look like him at all. But your clothes! You’re so cute, like a baby politician!”

“I’m almost twenty three.”

“So young,” Penelope fawns.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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strawberrynightmere · 1 month ago

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andrew graves x reader, who broke up with him during the time he was trapped in the apartment because of how he kept ditching her for ashley, so we got fed up and ended it. a little while later, he escaped and goes looking for us and finds us, breaking into our home only to find us having a make out session or like mid sex with some random guy and gets all angry and jealous, threatening to kill the guy if he doesn’t leave. and then it resorts to smut, and he ends up killing that random guy after he’s done with us 🙂‍↕️

Not Over Yet [Yandere Andrew Graves X Female Reader]

TW⚠️: yandere tendencies, canon divergence, breakup, stalking, murder, non-con, smut/nsfw/nsft/18+, reader is not taking place of anyone, female reader,my writingn, etc.

A/n: I'm taking a backseat on writing Julia!reader, though I have one more Julia!reader request to write.

"Again, seriously!?" You ask in disbelief as Andrew has canceled your plans again! And why would that be?

"Can't Ashley just drag Julia to this shit since they're dating!" Right, he was ditching you for whatever load of bull Ashley was pulling.

"They're not talking to each other right now." Gee, you wonder why.

"Ugh. Forget it!" That's the last thing you said before leaving.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"This isn't working out." You said with all the courage you could muster up.

"What isn't working?" You had a feeling he knew what you were going to say. You take a deep breath before answering, "This. Us. We're not working out."

There's silence on the other end of the phone. You bite your bottom lip, begging in your mind for him to understand. You know very well he won't.

"I know the quarantine has been a pain in the ass, but it's not a good reason to break up."

"It's not the quarantine! I had enough time to think, and I realized that I don't want to do this anymore." Again, silence on the other end. It's really unsettling.

"No."

"Andrew, I'm serious. I can't do it anymore." You didn't let him get one word in as you continued. "I can't be with someone who puts me in last place." There is no reply.

"This is for the best. Goodbye, Andrew." And you hung up. A moment passes while you stand still, eyes sting with tears that are threatening to pour out at any given moment. Sniffing could be heard as it came from you.

You collapse on your bed, and all the feelings you've bottled up just break out. You spent a part of the day crying.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"Go flirt with him!" A friend pressured you to talk to a random guy at the club.

It's been a month th since you broke up with Andrew, and now your friends finally got you to go clubbing with them, despite the fact you all had classes in the morning.

After some pushing, with a little help from alcohol, you were finally able to go up to the guy one friend pressured you to.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Hooking up was not something you initially planed, you wanted to at least get his number and talk, but this isn't half as bad.

Making out on your bed as you feel his hands going up your dress.

*Thunk!*

The guy collapsed on top of you, and I the moment of your confusion, you see someone standing above you holding a cleaver. Once you realized it was an angry Andrew that just broke into your apartment, you were going to scream, but he covered your mouth.

"Not a word." He threatened.

Andrew removes the unconscious guy from you and drags him out the door. You assume someone is outside your apartment, as Andrew says something before coming back in.

The whole time, you have been afraid to move.

"Care to explain what the fuck that was about?" Andrew asked as he pinned you down.

"Were you seriously going to cheat on me?" His grip on you tightened.

"Andrew, we broke -"

"Shut up!" He cut you off.

"We. Are. Not. Fucking. Over." As he said that, Andrew started biting and sucking on your neck and collarbone. He raised the hem of your dress and exposed your underwear.

You really shouldn't feel turned on by this.

Andrew stopped biting your neck once he took off your underwear. Holding your thighs apart, he starts to aggressively lick your clit. Every time you felt his wet muscle drag itself there, your mind goes a bit crazy.

You ended up squirting over his face.

"So quickly." He said. "You were as deprived as I was." That's unfortunately true. There was only so much that phone sex and your fingers could do.

Before you know it, Andrew had his pants down and was thrusting his dic into you like a wild animal.

And you were loving it.

Digging your nails on his back as you feel him hit that was gonna make you cum. And with the final hit, you came.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Waking up to a headache and aggressive doorbell ringing, you use your pillow to somehow get out of Andrew's hold and adjust your clothes.

You opened the front door and it was one of your friends who was ringing the doorbell.

"Sooo? How did it go?"

"Well, we were in the middle of it.... and then his girlfriend called." You lied.

"What an asshole." And she bought it.

"Anyway, I kicked him out, then drank a bit, and then passed out." You continued with your lies.

"You poor thing."

"I think I'm gonna skip my classes today." That is the only truth you said in this conversation.

"Honestly, I would too if my night turned out like that." You bid each other goodbye.

When you closed the door, Andrew was standing there.

"How did you sleep?" You asked. Andrew just grunted and hugged you.

A/n: And that's all folks!

#tcoaal x reader #andrew graves x reader #yandere andrew graves #x female reader #female reader

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thewildernesschooses · 21 days ago

Text

My Man, a readerxtravis oneshot

a criminal lack of travis content. he’s so fun to write! oh well, i guess i have to be the change i want to see in the world and whatever.

reader and travis knew each other before the crash. You weren’t friends but something changed out there.

Travis was a dick, there was no denying that. You knew that before the crash and you had no expectations that a freak accident would make him kinder. But this was beyond the pale.

He didn’t get to be a dick to Javi like that. You understood that he was grieving, even understood how his complicated relationship with his father was making this worse, but he needed to buck up.

Javi was a good kid, he was stubborn sometimes but who wasn’t? You cared about that little boy, you babysat him back when you were JV. When Travis was recovering from his surgery there were so many appointments and hospital stays. Coach didn’t want to cancel any practice and god forbid he let his assistant coach assist him in coaching a varsity game.

You guys would order pizza and watch Pixar. You didn’t even have a license yet so you couldn’t do anything fun. Javi was always nice though, a sweet boy who listened well and never wanted to cause any fuss. You weren’t ever particularly good with kids but Javi was an easy person to be around. That’s why when Travis started to wrestle Javi too roughly you lost your shit.

You stormed out of the cabin to hear Travis yelling at his brother to spit something out, you can only assume he’s talking about that stale gum Javi couldn't let go of. You were actually going to talk about it with him after lunch, about coping with grief, but of course, Travis was too impulsive to move slowly.

“Hey, dickwad, let him go!”

But it was too late, Travis had forcibly opened Javi's mouth and made him spit out the gum. You were hoping he would be able to voluntarily release it, that it would help Javi psychologically accept the loss like how you talked about in AP psych. Obviously, Travis could only get into the bullshit health class where they don’t teach you anything about being a normal, decent person.

Javi didn’t react well. He stormed off and you were going to follow him until you looked at Travis and your heart broke for some reason.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” You knew he knew that. “The world is only going to get harder on us, the least you could do is be gentle with him.”

Everyone still seemed to be committed to rescue but you knew it had been too long. You went a weird way on a sketchy private plane. Nobody knew where you were and it increasingly looked like you only had each other.

Travis looked up from the ground with his big, sad eyes. “I…I just wanted him to stop smacking on that gum and…I don’t know.” You believed that he came in with no solid reasoning or plan, that sounded on brand for him.

You stepped closer because he was talking quietly. You kept going until you were closer than you had been in the four years you had spent catching rides home with Coach Martinez because your mom worked late. “Listen, you should find him in a little bit and apologize. I know you don’t mean to hurt his feelings but you need to cut all of this out.” Travis didn’t even have the heart to argue with you. “I know this sucks worse for you than for anyone else but with coach Ben’s leg, you’re the man here. You need to be level-headed and strong. Not just for Javi, but for all of us.”

All of Travis’s life, he had only wanted to feel like a man. Out there in the real world, he had failed. He wasn’t athletic and for a good portion of his adolescence, he was literally medically advised against exercising or lifting weights of any kind. When all the boys in middle school were doing push-up contests, he was going to orthopedic specialists for back brace fittings.

But Travis’s spinal fusion was successful, even if the healing was brutal. And he was seeing a place to prove himself. He needed to show his dad he could step up and be a man. He could take care of Javi and the girls and he would go back and take care of his mom too. This is the last time he and his dad will be in the same place and Travis will leave here a man if he can help it.

He oddly wanted to prove it to you too. You were around when he was worse off. One of his father's little pets he liked to keep from the team. You saw how debilitating the pain was before the surgery, saw how recovery was slow and isolating. And you saw all the in-between at school. Flex.

He never quite put together that you would have a lot of insight on him but now that he thinks about it, you may be the person to know the most. Which is sad because you don’t even seem to like him that much.

He takes your advice, though. Javi doesn’t accept it immediately but it seems like they eventually figure it out from your point of view. Of course, Travis is the same angry boy but he’s trying to temper himself into something stronger, less likely to break.

Travis keeps coming to you for advice. You’re not sure why, you never got along. You spent fifteen minutes with him 3 days a week (at the very least) for the last four years and you had developed no camaraderie during that but desperate times, you guessed.

It started with just his relationship with Javi. You were his babysitter after all and the kid talked about you like invented the Lion King DVD. You were more sensitive to him than Travis naturally was. Neither of you would acknowledge that this was the dynamic Coach Martinez and his wife had but you both felt the weight of it. You were the closest thing Javi had to parents out here. It didn’t matter if either of you liked it, you were mom and dad.

After a while, Travis started to ask you about more things. What plants were edible, how you mended things so well, what you did to make his dad like you so much. You didn’t have a clear answer for the last one. Travis seemed to know what you meant when you said you had no idea how Coach felt about you except for the fact he trusted you enough to watch over Javi. He was a man that spoke more with actions but that meant so much was left unsaid. You wished you had asked him why he took a shine to you. You weren’t the best defender. Was it pity for not having a dad? Or a mom that worked too much? You’ll never know now.

Then things got complicated when he started coming to you about a girl. He wouldn’t say who he needed advice about but you could assume. He had spent so much time alone with Natalie, it could only be her.

It made sense too. They both had a compatible jaggedness that seemed to slot together well. They both had to feel the pressure of being hunters, and the judgment when they came back empty-handed.

You weren’t expecting for it to… affect you. You couldn’t tell what it was at first. Initially, you thought you just didn’t like the idea of some poor girl being subjected to Travis’s courtship. Then you realized that he had grown and someone out here could maybe have a lovely relationship with him. Then you thought it was an extension of that irrational judgment, that the hunters should be focused on game and not frivolous crushes but even that was off base. You thought he and Nat deserved some respite.

It wasn’t until you were making sure Javi was tucked in well on a cold, rainy fall night that you realized it was because you were jealous. Travis slept one spot away from you with Javi in the middle and you looked at him already looking at you two. You thought about how glad you were he wasn’t closer to the door with Natalie.

Neither of you looked away for a minute. It felt so domestic like you were over at his house while his parents were out. Watching Bambi after Javi had fallen asleep halfway. What it maybe could’ve been if either of you had given the other one a chance.

You looked away first to make sure Javi was breathing deeply. You went to bed with the heavy feeling that you were helping push the boy you liked towards a much prettier girl, with more experience and bravery than you would probably ever have the chance of gaining at this rate.

The next day, you and Travis were stringing up herbs to start drying them in the meat shed when he asked, “How do you let a girl know you like her and not have it blow up if she doesn’t like you back?”

“Well, I don’t know how to answer that because no one’s ever liked me like that.” It was painful to say out loud but if you weren’t willing to admit that here and now, where would you?

He stopped what he was bundling and looked incredulous. “You mean, you’ve just never had to tell someone you don’t like them, right?

And man did that make you feel like a loser. Even perpetual virgin Travis was in disbelief at the lack of play you got back home. “No, that’s not what I meant,” you said quietly, cutting off some twine.

It was silent for a minute. God, he was awkward. Why did you even like him? He was just looking at you all weirdly and he hadn’t gathered the next bundle so you had idle hands.

He obviously deduced that you had a slight (massive) thing for him. You were too obvious last night, forcing him to play house with you. You were practically Misty Quigley-level delusional.

“I’m sure some guy has been pining after you and you just don’t know.”

“Oh yeah, that’s why I wasn’t rejecting boys left and right back home, I’m just too intimidating for anyone to ever confess to me.” The sarcasm was plain in your tone. “I’m just too pretty and smart for anyone to ever believe they could have a chance with me, is that right?”

“I know you’re trying to joke right now but you’re not wrong.” He said it all fast, like the words tripped out of him. He made his eyes go all big and soft which made it impossible for you to continue being aloof with him.

“Shut up, you don’t have to lie and make me feel good.”

“What if I’m not? What if I know for a fact that I’m right? That there is a guy out there pining over you.”

You laughed. It was torturous because the delusional part of you believed he must be talking about himself but you knew better. You didn’t get the boy in the end. You don’t get what you want.

“Yeah. Who? Sean from trig? I watched him pick his nose and put it under his desk like two weeks before our plane crashed, I’m good.” Joking usually helped you out in situations but it seemed to frustrate Travis further. He must be really weirded out by your liking him.

Travis took the twine and the knife from your still hands, the task abandoned long ago. He got close to you, the way you had gotten close to him that first time. “No. Not Sean. Me. I’ve been pining after you in these stupid woods and you’re the only one who can’t see that!”

“You mean Natalie? You’ve been asking me for advice on how to make her like you for weeks!”

Travis started pulling at his hair. It had gotten so long out here and had made him unfairly attractive. He shouldn’t distract you like this during serious conversation. “I’ve been asking you for advice on how to make you like me! Jesus Christ, aren’t you usually smart?”

“Oh.” Wow. That was not what you were expecting at all.

“Oh? What does that mean?” You never told him how to tell the girl without making it awkward so he didn’t know what to do after this. You just frustrated him into transparency like you usually did.

You were looking at his face for a moment, checking if this was a trick or something. When you only saw sincerity, you said “I like you too.” He exhaled, apparently waiting on bated breath for your answer.

He took the hand that was holding the twine and held it between his, just holding it, warming up your fingers. He stepped more into your space. He whispered, “I…I don’t know how to do this.”

You returned his intensity with your eyes, really just dropping down the walls you had built around letting your feelings for him show.

“I don’t know how to do any of it either. I was telling the truth when I told you no one has ever liked me like that before.”

He scoffed, “Their loss.”

“Yeah,” you quietly laughed out. Anything louder would’ve felt like yelling.

Then he kissed you. It was both of your first kisses, but he kissed you like a man. He put one hand on your hip and another caressed the side of your neck as he dropped that last physical boundary between you too. You couldn’t go much further because of your mutual inexperience and general breathlessness but it was more than satisfying to you both.

You would both have to leave the shed soon. You needed to check on Javi and talk to him about his whittling. You were trying to talk to him about historical events and books you remembered from school. Fall had come and he should be back in school.

You both lingered. Finally having some type of resolution to anything felt significant out here where things get started but never properly finished.

“So…Are you my girlfriend now?”

You grinned a little. At least this thing between you was good, sacred.

“Yes, and you’re my man.”

#travis martinez #travis martinezxreader #travis x reader #natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets fics #yellowjackets x reader #travis martinez x reader #x reader

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schemmentisimpasours · 2 months ago

Text

Daddy? Daughter Dance

*Get ya head out the gutters y'all. Not the daddy you thinking just some cute Mom Melissa Fluff*

Original Request:Hi, I have a Mel x reader prompt:Reader has a daughter (her and Mel can be or not in a relationship) and Mel shows up in the daughter’s dance class, and in a parents night. Then the reader realizes Melissa is the one

Summary:You are terrified for the upcoming Daddy Daughter dance until Melissa offers to step in and you realize your love may run deeper than you thought

Next Chapter

Masterlist

You dreaded the day you picked your daughter up from dance practice and a little pink slip was clutched tightly in her hand. It was that time of year Daddy Daughter Dance. Last year your daughter had begged to sign up with her dad and he promised that he would. Yet a week before practices began, he canceled citing something to do with his girlfriend and suddenly you were out $80 and had a heartbroken five-year-old who only wanted her Daddy. This year the dance studio opened it to more than just dads trying to make it more inclusive to the families that had two moms, single moms, and some non-binary parents. Your heart had overjoyed at this new inclusion that made your daughter a little more relaxed about having two women figure in her life caring for her but you also knew you couldn’t do it.

Working overnight was exhausting but it was the only thing that paid you enough to support Amari in dance, have a decent house with a small backyard, and keep your older beater Subaru running. You were able to get your daughter to dance and back barely in time to sign onto your computer. There was no way you could commit to even more practices at a later start time. It would break your heart to tell Amari that yet another parent dance would pass her by until she climbed in the car and said the most unexpected thing.

“Can I ask Melissa to dance with me Mommy?” She asked before buckling her seat belt.

You and Melissa had been dating for over six months having met at Kindergarten round-up when you had started making jokes about the other parents under hushed breaths. Melissa had heard you and had immediately taken to your sarcasm and wit. It was quick and easy with the red head like falling in love with someone you had known your whole life. Amari had been overjoyed to have the “weally nice Ms. Schemmi” that her teacher Ms. Howard talked so highly of over at her house every day.

Melissa had taken to your daughter easily, as you expected she would. Reading her bedtime stories when work got out of hand for you. Making easy heat-up meals to add some variety to her diet of chicken nuggets and ramen noodles that she had been addicted to since she was four. Playing Barbie dolls with her and allowing Amari to practice her very very subpar makeup skills on her. Melissa loved your daughter like her own it was clear but Amari had always been hard to read. One moment she was so excited the be living with you and other days she was screaming to go to her dad who maybe called her once a month. She had never taken to any of your other partners in the past claiming that “you two timing Daddy” when in all actuality it was your ex who did the two timing during your time together.

As you regained your composure from her question you stared at her through the rearview mirror, “You really want Melissa to dance with you, honey?”

“Yeah, she is my Mamma,” Your heart melted at your daughter's words, “You still Mommy though. Can't get rid of you.”

You laughed because you couldn't tell if the last statement was a disappointment to her or a compliment and in that moment Amari reminded you so much of Melissa. You promised your daughter you would ask her in the morning when they got to school. You had practiced what you were going to say all night. However, the plan went right out the window when Amari ran right up to Melissa pink paper in hand.

“Mama! Mama!” Amari yelled running right to the redhead.

At the sound of her voice, Melissa turned looking for you and Amari. However, she froze when she realized Amari was calling her Mama. She was pulled from her daze tears etching the corner of her eyes as Amari explained what was happening.

“Will you do the Daddy-Daughter dance with me, Mama? They are letting Moms do it this year and I think we should do it. Pleaseeee.”

“Of course my lil cannoli. Anything for you. Hand me the paper and I'll sign us up at lunch,” Melissa smiled pushing a beaded braid behind Amari’s ear.

“I love you Mama!” Amari said giving her a tight squeeze before coming to kiss you goodbye.

She slipped into Ms. Howard's classroom as you stepped up to Melissa. A single tear was rolling down her cheek. You wiped it away with your thumb.

“Mel if you don't want to…”

“No I want to do it. I absolutely want to do it,” Melissa said looking at the space Amari had just vacated, “Just never thought I would get the chance to be a Mama.”

“Well you are one now,” You smiled kissing her cheek, “I think she might be putting a hit out on me so you can be her only mom. Still can’t tell.”

“That is my girl. I totally have a guy for that too,” she said and you both laughed.

Melissa kept her word signing up for the dance on her lunch break. She pulled out her calendar scrawling all the dates for practice and rehearsal down. One the first day of practice you were pacing in the living room your nerves getting the best of you. Melissa had never once let you down on her promises but your ex had lied so much when it came to Amari that you had learned to expect the worse. But Melissa pulled up to the door with plenty of time to spare.

You smiled at her pulled up into a high bun with a Philadelphia Eagles shirt on paired with simple black leggings. She kissed your cheek as you studied her outfit.

“Had to buy new damn leggings for this dance class. Didn’t want the little cannoli commenting on how shabby my other ones are,” Melissa said holding you in her arms as you both waited for Amari.

“She thinks that all of clothes are shabby,” You laughed, “Be safe my love.”

“Always,” She responded before Amari launched into her legs.

Melissa took Amari to every dance practice from then on out allowing for you to have some calm moments to get ready for work. They came home every day smiling and full of laughter. You knew that you loved Melissa but every time she walked through the door holding Amari’s hand you fell a little bit more.

Weeks went by till it was finally time for the dance. Melissa had already taken Amari out to get her outfit for the dance however all of it had been kept secret from you. As you sat in the second row of the auditorium you fidgeting nervously waiting for your two girls to come out. You swore your heart stopped as they came onto the stage with the other families.

Melissa was one of the only females in this group but she stood out for different reasons. Her red curls pooled around her three-piece emerald green suit. The pants clung to her every curve giving away a black vest that showed off just enough cleavage to barely past children dancing appropriately. On top of the vest was a matching emerald green suit jacket that hung open and loose around her.Amari stood next her smiling the biggest smile you had ever seen. Bun pulled up into the requirement for the dance recital Melissa had bought her a black bow with silver sparks to go with it. The emerald green dress your daughter wore had silver jewels across the top with a big princess tool skirt that you knew Amari was dying over.

You cried during the whole performance as you watched Melissa twirl, spin, and lift your daughter high in the air. They looked so happy together and in that moment you knew that you were going to love Melissa forever. When the dance was over Melissa placed a kiss on your daughter’s head and after their bow Amari rushed of for her next performance. A couple of moments later Melissa joined you among the crowd wrapping her suit jacket over your shoulders.

As soon as she leaned in to kiss your lips you blurted, “Marry me.”

“Finally,” Melissa smiled cupping your face gently, “I thought you would never ask.”

#Mommy!melissa #Mom!Melissa #Mom!Melissa Schemmenti #Melissa Schemmenti #abbott elementary #Melissa Schemmenti x reader #Meliss schemmenti x original female character #Melissa schemmenti x you

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nekosanhwa · 1 year ago

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Hi! Can I request a Saiki x reader where the reader can cancel out any psychic’s abilities if they’re within a certain distance from them? Can you trickling in some fluff in there to? Love your work!!

— hi thank you for requesting and liking my work <3 I was super into the idea and enjoyed writing it 😁 sorry that it's kinda short tho. I hope you enjoy it and it's what u hoped for !

pain in the ass — saiki kusuo

➤ the new transfer student is able to nullify saiki's abilities effects on them from a certain distance and it frustrates him

content ! — gn reader. cocky reader. salty saiki. saiki trying to be mean. some fluff ^^

pk's newest transfer student was an utter pain in the ass.

the moment [name] stepped foot into the classroom, saiki knew something was wrong with them. maybe it was the fact he had heard their thoughts while they were on their way to class before they completely disappeared a few classes down the hall.

or maybe it was the cocky look they sent saiki when he was in confusion as to why he couldn't read the new students thoughts, as if they knew. either way, [name] was a threat to saiki.

his suspicions were only proven right when during roll call, they hadn't heard saiki answer the teacher with his telepathy when he was called on.

while he wouldn't have been too thrilled, saiki would've understood if the reason he couldn't read [name's] thoughts was because they were an airhead like nendo, but [name] was obviously not an airhead.

not when they'd purposely cross into what saiki called the 'seven meter barrier' (which wouldn't allow him from using his powers on them) whenever he tried to get farther from them.

not when they'd purposely brush against saiki when leaving their desk, which would cause saiki's powers to glitch. it was obvious [name] knew more than they let on and it was frustrating.

after a full week of this and an attempt to use psychometry with no results, saiki called on [name] to meet him at the school's rooftop with his telepathy, finally frustrated enough to confront them. the moment [name] got there, they were cornered by a slightly visibly agitated saiki.

"who are you and why are you immune to my powers ?"

you let out a surprised laugh. "straight to the point, I see", you replied teasingly, taking a step forward. the motion forced saiki to step back and out of his hovering position and he glowered at your [height] form. you started pacing, wanting to rile up saiki, before finally answering.

"you see, you're not the only one of your kind. must be a hit to your ego", you giggled, agitating the boy further, "and I've been taught to deal with people like you", you continued as you stopped infront of him and jabbed your finger into saiki's chest, emphasizing the 'you'.

you smiled teasingly at him as his scowl grew deeper before slowly dropping your cocky demeanor and addressing him genuinely.

"however, it it bothers you too much that I can cancel your powers at a certain distance, I can't stop doing it altogether. I can tell you don't use your powers to gain things from others but rather because you can't control some of them," you said, backing away from the pink haired boy infront of you and moving to stand with your arms crossed behind your back.

saiki glared at you. "do whatever you want", he spat with a scowl on his face before turning and heading to the rooftop door.

behind him, you jumped and called out to him. "nice to meet you, saiki!", you shouted, furiously waving at him despite him having his back to you, "you're definitely one of the most interesting psychics I've met."

saiki stopped once out the door, a barely visible blush crawling up his cheeks, before he shook his head and headed down the stairs.

"good grief, what a pain"

#tdlosk #saiki no psi nan #saiki k #saiki kusuo #kusuo saiki #saiki x reader #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #kusuo saiki x reader

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achilles-rage · 10 months ago

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Good Luck Charm: Chapter 6

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: you go to the coffee shop with elijah, making you miss your meeting with evan. he has many questions the next day, which means some feelings are revealed.

word count: 3.1k

previous chapter

series masterlist

A/N: i have nothing to say other than i love how this turned out. enjoy<3

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, inexperienced!reader, race inclusive!reader

The next Tuesday, you’re at the coffee shop with Elijah like you planned, and he will not stop asking you questions. You happily answer them at first, but the more he asks, the more ridiculous his questions get, until you’re explaining the most basic points of the class to him. You’re also a little pissed off because you were supposed to hang out with Evan today, but it was long past the time you were supposed to meet him, and you had to text him and tell him you wouldn’t be able to make it.

He’s talking so much that you don’t even have time to read Evan’s texts, asking you where you are and if you’re okay. As bored as you are, you don’t want to be rude and check your phone. You have a fake smile plastered to your face as you listen to him speak, chiming in every now and then, but your thoughts are completely on Evan.

“I really appreciate you helping me out. I’ve been meaning to talk to you since the start of classes.” Elijah tells you after a couple hours, leaning closer to you across the table as your eyes widen slightly. The smile drops from your face. Evan was right, you think, maybe this isn’t about class at all. You’re not used to this kind of attention, so you’re surprised at his words.

“Oh?” you ask in a soft voice, nervously, as if speaking quietly enough would make him drop the subject. You aren’t looking forward to this. If you hadn’t met Evan, you’re sure you would’ve been giddy at the idea of Elijah wanting to talk to you, but he hardly compares to the stupid blue eyed man you’ve gotten to know. Plus, Evan’s words about not wanting you to go out with him are currently echoing through your head.

“Yeah. I was actually wondering if you wanted to hang out again? No class work. Like, a date?” he asks, his voice full of hope as he looks at you expectantly. You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to think of what to say.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I liked helping you out, but, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” you tell him softly with an apologetic smile on your face, as if raising your voice any more would make your words any more harsh. He clears his throat, looking down at his empty coffee cup as he nods.

“Yeah, right. Of course. No problem.” he says awkwardly. He starts packing up his stuff quickly as he stands up, and you watch him with guilt in your eyes. As happy as you are that you can finally leave, you feel bad.

“I’ll see you in class?” you ask, starting to pack your stuff up, giving him a small smile. You don’t want him to feel bad, and you dread the awkwardness you’ll have to endure for the rest of the semester. He’s nice enough, but you just can’t get your mind off of Evan.

“Uh, yeah, right. I’ll see you later. Thanks again.” he says quickly, giving you a nod before leaving the coffee shop. You get up slowly, giving him a minute before you leave and make your way home. You were supposed to meet Evan over an hour ago, and he’s probably already at home by now. You don’t want to make him walk back to campus to meet you, so you decide not to text him. You’ll see him tomorrow, anyway.

“Why couldn’t you hang out yesterday?” Evan asks immediately when he sees you, falling into step with you as you walk out of your class, his brows furrowed. He’s learned your schedule by now, and he knows where to go if he wants to talk to you. And he desperately wants to talk to you about this. You haven’t cancelled on him in the almost 4 weeks you’ve known each other, and you didn’t give him a reason when he texted you. You told him you were sorry, but you didn’t feel like typing out your whole explanation over text. Knowing him, he’d probably call you immediately, wanting to know every. single. detail.

And you really didn’t want to deal with that over the phone.

“I went out with Elijah, he had a lot of questions, we stayed late at the coffee shop.” you tell him, rolling your eyes with a smile as you see his jaw clench instinctively. He raises a brow and gestures for you to continue, hoping this story doesn’t end how he thinks it might. He really hopes you staying late doesn’t mean that you were having a good time, and he was losing you.

“He, uh, asked me out.” you mention after a moment, ducking your head slightly as you keep walking, waiting for his reaction. He’s probably going to say “I told you so,” and you don’t want to hear it.

He stops walking and grabs your arm to stop you too. He spins you gently to face him, ducking his head slightly to match your height better.

“What did you say?” he says through gritted teeth, his jealousy bubbling up as he thinks about you alone with Elijah. His hands on you, rather than his own.

“I said no.” you tell him, biting your lip as you wait for his reaction. You assume he’ll be relieved, having clearly stated his dislike for the guy, but you selfishly want to pretend he cares about you not going out with him for more reasons than just a general dislike for him.

“Why?” he asks after a moment. He’s staring at you intently, eyes trying to search for any sign of you actually liking Elijah.

“You said you didn’t want me to.” you state, shrugging as if that was the only reason you needed. He lets out a quiet sigh and looks down, nodding slowly as he shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling slightly relieved.

“Was there any other reason?” His eyes dart up to your face again, licking his lips as he waits for your reply. You shrug, biting your lip as you avert your gaze from his, your skin heating up as you think about what to say. He takes in your nervous stance, and the gears are turning in his head as he tries to figure out what you’re thinking. Maybe he was right before, he thinks, maybe you did like him, and that’s why you’re so nervous around him. As you start to stutter out a fake response, he grabs your wrist and tugs you into an empty classroom.

“What are you-” you get out before his lips are on yours, using one hand on the back of your neck to guide you up to him. He’s holding you firmly, but gently enough that you can pull away if he’s painfully wrong about your feelings for him.

Your lips meet his in a dizzying kiss and his other hand moves to your hip, pulling you flush against him. He groans softly as he feels your chest and tummy push against his torso, and he tilts your head further up into the kiss.

It takes a moment for you to kiss him back, eyes wide as you realize that his lips are on yours. You close your eyes after a moment, kissing him deeply. He bites down on your lip gently, making you gasp softly, which allows him to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your mind goes blank as you kiss him, and you’re unsure of what to do, other than put your hands on his chest and kiss him back. He’s resisting every urge to take you in the middle of this classroom, and after a minute, he turns you and pushes your back against the door he kicked closed after he pulled you in. You whimper softly as your back hits the door, trailing one of your hands up his chest to his jaw and arching your back slightly as you try to somehow get any closer than you already are.

You continue to kiss him for a little longer, until you feel his hands slowly going from your hips to your ass, squeezing it roughly. You suddenly realize where you are and what you’re doing, and pull back with wide eyes, looking up at him nervously.

“We can’t.” you whisper. You trail your hand back down to his chest as you look up at him, noticing the lust in his eyes.

“Why? We’re alone, no one is around.” he teases softly, slowly leaning back in again to meet your lips. You push him back softly, shaking your head with a small laugh.

“Not here.” you whisper, feeling your stomach fill with a newfound nervousness. Location aside, you’ve never done anything like this before, and you feel you’re just now remembering that. As much as you want to keep kissing him, you’re filled with dread. Scared that you’ll do the wrong thing.

“Then where, princess? Where can I have you all to myself?” he asks desperately, itching to have his lips back on you, pulling soft whimpers from your pretty lips. He ducks his head as your eyes wander down to your hands on his chest, smoothing the fabric down to keep yourself grounded.

“I don’t know.” you reply, voice barely audible.

“I wanna take you back to my place. Now.” he tells you roughly, the hand on the back of your head moving to your jaw and tilting your head up. You can’t help but smile at his eagerness, but you can’t ignore the way your stomach is churning.

“I have class in an hour.” you try to reason. You really do have class, but you’re mostly just too nervous to continue this right now, and you figure it’s an easy way out. You feel like you need to hype yourself up to what he’s alluding to.

“Skip it. It’s only the fourth week of classes, you have some time to catch up. I can think of something else much better for you to do than sit in class, anyway.” he purrs, lowering his face to your neck, kissing it softly.

“You’re a bad influence.” you tease softly, but you can’t help but tilt your head back as he kisses you. You move your arms to wrap around his neck, resting your forearms on his shoulders as your hands dangle behind his head.

“You have no idea, princess. Just wait until I get you alone in my house. You’ll see just how bad of an influence I can be.” he whispers in your ear, smirking to himself. You may be stubborn, but all he’s thinking of right now is how you’d look sprawled under him on his bed, and he’s dying to get you to agree.

You bite your lip, trying not to let a noise escape your mouth as your heartbeat quickens. You’re fighting the urge to give in, and you know you should push him away. He seems to pick up on you trying to keep quiet, too focused on his mouth on your neck to respond, and he leans back to meet your gaze. He sees the unsure look in your eyes; your eyes wide and pupils blown as you look up at him, speechless.

“You’re so damn cute when you get all shy, princess, but don’t think that it’ll save you when I take you back to my place.” He knows this will make your breath catch in your throat and stutter out your words, and that’s exactly what he wants. It’s becoming clear to him that you’re not completely used to this type of attention, and he wants to make you squirm.

“Save me from what?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. Your brain is so fuzzy from the kiss that you can barely think, his suggestive tone going completely over your head.

“From everything I plan on doing to you when we get there. I have a feeling you’ve never been properly taken care of before, and I’m going to change that.” He smirks down at you as your eyes widen slightly before you look down. He knows you’re on the edge of giving in, so he asks you again.

“Please tell me you’ll come with me now.” he all but begs, a sense of urgency in his voice. He feels the stiffness in his jeans, and he would do just about anything to get you to go home with him. Now.

You feel your hands shaking slightly as he looks down at you, waiting desperately for your answer. You swallow and let out a shaky breath as you weigh out the options in your head. On one hand, you want to go with him so bad, imagining how his hands would feel on you. But on the other hand, you really do have class, nervousness aside. Your nerves are at an all time high as you think about being alone with him in his room, trying to keep up with his very obvious experience. You close your eyes for a moment before opening them again and speaking.

“I can’t.” you whisper as you look back up at him, feeling a little bad when you see his face fall. He nods after a moment, clearing his throat and backing away from you.

“Okay.” He’s not angry, far from it. He’s a little disappointed, but he can sense your nervousness, feeling the way your hands were shaking slightly while they rested on his chest. He isn’t going to push you into it. That’s the last thing he wants to do.

“Are you still good to go to the library later?” he asks after a moment, trying to ease your nerves by pretending that everything is normal. He smiles softly when you nod.

“Good. I better go, I was supposed to be in class 10 minutes ago. Got distracted,” he says with a grin, winking at you. “See you later, princess.”

He turns and opens the door, but stops suddenly as if he forgot something. He turns back to you, grabbing your chin and bringing your lips to his for a quick kiss, then pulls back and turns back to the door.

You nod mindlessly, still thinking about the way his lips felt on yours. You blink slowly and lick your lips, feeling yourself lower back to reality once you can’t feel his presence anymore. You’re still reeling from the kiss, and your knees feel weak as you slowly make your way outside to a picnic table in the courtyard. You pull out your laptop and try to do some work before your next lecture, but your thoughts are consumed by how he felt pressed up against you.

When you meet at the library later, you’re finally able to calm your nerves, but your heart starts to race as soon as you see his face. You’re not sure how to react around him now. This is completely new to you, so you try to act the exact same as before he kissed you.

He tries to go at your pace, resisting the urge to kiss you as you try to focus on your assignment, but it’s hard. His eyes keep making their way down your body, and he can’t seem to take his eyes off your soft tummy. Your whole body makes him weak, but he thinks he likes your belly the most. He likes how it moves when you laugh, and how he can see its soft imprint when you’re wearing something more form fitting. All he wants to do is touch and kiss it until you’re giggling and squirming under him.

You try to ignore the way his eyes are moving down your figure, as it’s making you even more nervous and shaky, but it’s almost impossible. You keep your eyes on your laptop, as he speaks to you, pursing your lips as you try to remain as neutral as possible.

“What’s got you so jumpy today, princess?” he teases, resting his head on his hand as he leans on the table, body angled at you.

“Nothing.” you say, trying to keep the smile off your face as you see his smirk from the corner of your eye. He parts his lips slightly as he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, eyes glancing down to your lips yet again.

“That’s harsh.” he teases, which makes you laugh softly and shake your head. You momentarily forget that you’re supposed to be nervous, and you turn to look at him with a glint in your eye.

“Do you have to be like this all the time?” He chuckles softly, shrugging.

“You love it, and you know it. I like making you squirm.” he affirms, leaning closer to you. You look back at your screen, laughing softly, until you realize the time.

“Don’t you have practice soon?” you alert him, which makes him groan and tilt his back. His mind is so occupied by you that he completely forgot about practice. He knows he can’t miss it. His coach would kill him if he skipped, but he wants to stay here with you.

“Yeah, whatever. I guess I should go.” he huffs after a moment, taking one last opportunity to check you out. You let out a sad sigh. You know he has to go to practice, but you really don’t want to part ways with him yet. You start to pack up your laptop, standing up as he does.

As soon as you exit the library and are about to part ways, he stops you, making you look up at him.

“Good luck kiss for the road?” he asks in a slightly teasing tone, but his eyes are hopeful. You laugh softly, nodding as you lean up on your toes and giving him a quick peck. He tries to deepen the kiss by putting a hand on your jaw, but you pull away, looking around campus in slight embarrassment about your PDA.

“Go to practice, Buckley.” you tell him sternly, but he knows you’re not being serious because of the smile plastered to your face.

“Yes ma’am.” he replies smugly, giving you one last peck before he takes a few steps back, winking before he finally turns and walks toward the stadium. You watch him for a moment with a smile before you turn and start walking toward your apartment. You can’t wait to tell your roommate about your day, knowing you won’t be able to hide it from her for long.

next chapter

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mirisss · 8 months ago

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Atz reaction to their s/o being financially broken

Ateez x gn!college/university student! reader

Thank you for the request! I’m sorry it took so long for me to write this but I hope you enjoy this! I wasn’t sure if you wanted this to a poly relationship or not so I wrote it as if the relationships are separate, so each ATZ member has their own s/o.

Wordcount ≈ 1.2k

Warnings: Anxiety, overworking, exhaustion, financial problems, (Not that angsty though,)

Reactions under the cut

Seonghwa, Yeosang, Mingi, Yunho, Jongho

He had noticed that you didn’t seem to have a lot of time to hang out with him recently as you constantly had to study or work. At first, he didn’t think much of it, thinking it was just because of exam season that you were so stressed. But once this kept happening for over a month, he could barely reach you, you never answered his calls, or barely any of his texts, only answering “Sorry, busy studying, talk to you later”. He understood that something must be going on, his first thought would be if he had done anything wrong so one night, he went over to your apartment, knocked on the door but no one opened it, he assumed that you were at the restaurant/bar where you work so he went over there. Once at the door to the restaurant, he saw you running around inside, immediately noticing that you looked sick and feverish, you didn’t even notice him as he stood in front of you. One of your colleagues noticed him, quickly ushering him over.

“You should really convince them to go home, they’ve been working double shifts for two weeks, and even trying to pick up more shifts every now and then,” He was shocked to find out just how much you had been working. He walked over to you, gently putting a hand on your shoulder, “Hey, love, can we talk?” You were surprised to see him but said yes and went to the back of the building, where he technically wasn’t allowed to be as a non-employee but you were with him so it was fine.

“What’s wrong?” You asked as you finally sat down for the first time in probably 12 or 15 hours. “That´s what I want to ask you, your colleague just told me you’ve been working double shifts for 2 weeks straight, you look sick, you definitely have a fever, you’ve been distant for over a month, I just want to understand what’s going on,” He saw tears beginning to form in your eyes. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” “It’s obviously something, please, (Y/n), tell me what’s going on, I’m your boyfriend, you should be able to rely on me,” You sighed and then proceeded to tell him everything.

“My landlord raised my rent a lot about a month ago and with my old schedule, I couldn’t afford the rent or the cost of uni and everything so I had to start working more to earn enough not to be evicted, but having to work for 20 hours each day doesn’t leave a lot of time to study or sleep so I’m falling behind on classes and I don’t know what to do because no matter what I think of, there’s no solution that actually works,” He just looked at you in shock. “Why haven’t you told me about this? I could help you, I have asked before to move in together, that would help a lot with the cost of living for you,” “I can’t just rely on you for this, it’s my problem,” “Hey, we’re in this together, besides, I earn enough to support us both for a while so that you can focus on studying. I love you, (Y/n), it pains me to see you so overworked, I want to help, so please rely on me,” You couldn’t say no anymore, fatigue, fever, and finally feeling like you could have some rest catching up with you so you just nodded, whispering, ‘yes please’, before falling asleep with your head on his shoulder.

Hongjoong, Wooyoung, San

They would never let it come to the point of you being financially broken or exhausted mentally, nope, these two are just very attentive or their partner and would notice the second something seemed to be off with you. The first clue was when you canceled last minute on a date he had planned for over a week, to celebrate the anniversary of your first kiss together, he would take you to a fancy restaurant, something you usually enjoyed but this day you canceled on him the morning of the date just saying “I’m not feeling like doing something fancy”. He was shocked but nonetheless, he canceled the booking at the restaurant and asked if you should just order takeout and a movie night at his place, but you shot that down too with the excuse of exams coming up.

The second, and final clue to something being wrong, was when he walked by the office where you work part-time, in the middle of the day, when you definitely had classes, but he found you at the office, looking more stressed than ever before.

“Hey, love, what are you doing here? Don’t you have classes today?” “Oh Joong/Woo/Sannie, um, no, I, um, don’t” It was obvious that you were lying to him, and he wondered why, as it never happened before. “I know you’re lying, (Y/n), what’s actually going on?” You just sighed, looking down at the ground. “I’m too embarrassed to tell you,” “I won’t judge you, honey,” “I’m going to be evicted from my apartment, I took a pay cut about a week ago and with it, I can’t afford to pay rent, and my landlord isn’t one to be understanding of me being a student so they’ll kick you out the second even a penny is missing from the rent. So I’ve been taking on more shifts here, even trying to find another part-time job at a café or something, but with that, I can’t go to classes, so I’m falling behind, and I just want to die, because I’m failing everything, even our relationship,” You were crying and almost hyperventilating at this point. He pulled you into a tight hug, to try and comfort you. His heart was hurting, how hadn’t he noticed earlier that it was this bad? “Jagi, no, you’re not failing our relationship, come live with me? You wouldn’t have to pay rent that way,” “I can’t just let you pay for everything,”

“Then how about this, you move in with me, you keep your part-time job here but you back to your regular schedule, you can pay a fourth of the rent for my apartment, that’s about equal looking at what we each earn, and that way you still have plenty of time for classes, and for me, your boyfriend,” “How can I say no to that?” “You can’t, I’m just that irresistible,”

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number1jeonginstan · 2 years ago

Note

Sucking on Minhos fingers while he's got you in a headlock... Hehe

A/N: THIS WAS SUCH A GOOD REQUEST!!! At first, I didn't know what to write, so that's why I took so long to fulfill it. I usually try and imagine scenarios in my head and then play them out in my writing, and it finally hit me while I was re-watching Chainsaw Man today. I really hope I did you justice and you enjoy it because I think this might be my favorite fic to write to this day!!!

WC: 2.7k (1.6 is literally smut...)

Minors don't interact, 18+

Pairing: Roomate!Lee Know x afab!reader

Warnings: Lee Know calls the reader a slut, cum eating, mirror sex (just a bit), head lock, protected sex (for the first time ever), idk what else?

It was a normal night between you and your roommate Minho, he would spend every Friday cooking for the both of you guys while you caught up on assignments. It was a good arrangement because you hated cooking, and it was his favorite pastime. In return, you would wash all the dishes and make dessert for the both of you. Baking had always been your favorite, and you loved trying new recipes with him, and he did the same when it came to new dishes.

This week, he wanted to try out a sous vide steak. “Can you pass me the butter please?” Minho said across the kitchen. “Yeah of course!” you said, walking across the kitchen to pass it to him. “Thank you!” he replied back, basting the steak that he had searing on the stove with the butter you just passed him.

You went back to sitting on the barstool, continuing to work on the assignment you had due for your Journalism class at midnight. As you continued to work, Minho continued to cook. He was making a side of vegetables but needed your opinion on whether or not they were seasoned enough.

“I need you to taste this,” he said, holding up a fork in front of you. You were so immersed in your assignment that you just opened your mouth, waiting for him to put it in your mouth. He did so, and before you could notice how he stared at the fork leaving your mouth you said “I think it needs more salt, just a pinch, but it’s good.”

He just coughed and nodded, turning away, not letting you see how his ears turned a bit red at the tips. “Yeah, let me add some more salt and then we can sit down and eat.”

“That works for me!” you replied, finishing up the assignment at hand and submitting it. You close your laptop, pick up the plates, and place them on the table in the middle of your apartment. “What kind of wine do you want to drink tonight?” you asked him, looking in the fridge. “Red would go best with today’s steak,” he replied cutting up the steak into pieces on the cutting board.

“Alright got it”

As you took the first bite, you moaned to him how good it was. “I think this is your best recipe yet,” you told him while taking a bite of the vegetables. You didn’t realize that your little moan caused him to cough up a bit of his wine.

To distract himself from what just happened, he told you how Jisung had accidentally spilled coffee all over himself at work and he laughed so hard that he spilled some on himself too. You told him about your week too, how classes were kicking your ass too.

“Oh, and this dude in my literature class asked me for his number.” You took another bite of the steak. He was fuming a bit, but not wanting to show it he casually asked “Did you give it to him?”

“I didn’t want to be impolite, plus he seemed nice so I did. He invited me to get dinner with him tomorrow.” You said while taking a sip of your wine.

“Did you say yes?” he asked, annoyed you were giving your number out to total strangers.

“I told him I would most likely be able to, but if something came up I would have to cancel and he said that was totally fine, why?” you replied, a bit confused as to why he was so interested.

“Oh, I was just wondering, it’s been a while since you’ve been on a date.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s why I wanted to go out. I’m tired of being stuck at home constantly.” Before he could interject, you quickly spoke up again. “Not that I’m tired of hanging out with you, I love spending time with you. I just want to look pretty for someone, get all dressed up,” pointing down at yourself, “not just in sweats all the time.”

“That makes sense,” Minho scoffed, and you could hear a bit of undertone in his voice.

You decided to ignore it, collecting both of your dishes as you finished them. “Do you wanna play the new episode of Chainsaw Man while I bring the flan?” you asked

“You made flan again?” he asked while walking over to the couch. “Yeah, I knew how much you liked it last time, plus my friend gave me this recipe to perfect it.”

“Oh, that’s nice, thanks for thinking about me.” he was already sitting down so you couldn’t see the grin that was plastered on his face. “Hey, don’t be so egotistical, I liked it too,” you said while bringing over two bowls of it.

You guys sat in silence, eating the flan while the episode played in the background. Minho would occasionally look at you, watching your little reactions to what was playing on the screen in front of the both of you.

“Damn, I wish I was Denji,” you said loud enough for Minho to hear. It was a scene of Himeno putting him in a headlock. “You want to be choked?” Minho asked, not sure if he understood you correctly.

“I mean, it seems weird, but also, I really want to try it,” you shrugged to Minho.

“If you want to try it, I can put you in a headlock” he replied back with no hesitation. “I mean, I don’t think it will choke you or anything, but I am pretty strong so if you want to…”

Before he could even finish his sentence, you quickly replied with a “Yes!”

“I mean only if you are comfortable with it, if you don’t want to I mean we don’t have to” you rambled on.

“I don’t mind as long as you are comfortable with it, just tap my arm if it’s too much.” He said, pausing the show and patting the spot next to him. You crawled to him, sitting on your knees right next to him. What you didn’t realize was how flushed Minho had become, he could feel his pants tighten a bit at the thought of him in his arms.

“Can I sit in your lap you can do it from behind?” you asked innocently, your doe eyes looking up at him. He swore he groaned out loud, but he stopped himself, composing himself and just nodding.

You climbed into his lap, your back facing his chest. You felt his arm wrap around your throat, your bicep slowly squeezing it. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay kitten?” and you just whimpered in response. This is the first time he’s ever called you that and you can feel yourself getting wet in his lap.

You began to squirm, causing him to groan behind you. “Fuck, don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“What if I want to start something?” you tilt your head up, trying to get a good look at your roommate's face.

You had never realized how beautiful he was, you knew he was attractive. It was evident, he was one of the best-looking men you had ever met, but his beauty astonished you in that moment.

Before you could even say something, he flipped you around. “Fuck kitten, you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do this. Seeing you in your tiny shorts and big t-shirts around the apartment. That one time you took my shirt and wore it around the house, I swear I was hard that entire day after seeing you.”

You just giggled at him, “Oh baby, this is no laughing matter, maybe I should shut you up?”

You just nodded up at him, as he slipped his fingers in your mouth. You began sucking on them, wrapping your tongue around both digits, wetting them with your saliva and he just groaned above you. “Fuck baby” he just groaned thinking about how well you would take his cock in your mouth.

He slipped his digits out of your mouth, placing a kiss on your lips. One kiss became another and another, and then it turned into a heated make-out session. In the process, he had flipped you on top of him and you began grinding on his semi-hard cock.

“Fuck baby you feel so good, but let’s get off the couch okay?” you just nodded at him, still feeling lightheaded from his mouth on yours.

You both got up, him picking you up, tossing you onto his shoulder. Before you could protest, he began walking to his room. You began writhing on his shoulder, wanting to be put down. “Stop acting like a brat,” he said while smacking your ass.

“Minho!” you shouted, eliciting a chuckle from him. “If you act good, I’ll take care of you, but if you act like a brat, I won’t let you cum.” You quickly shut up, allowing him to throw you on the bed. He hovered above you, placing kisses on your neck, and moving down to your thighs.

He took off your sweatpants, leaving you only in your oversized shirt and panties. He began to lift your shirt only to see you not wearing a bra. “Had these out just for me, and I had no clue? What else are you hiding from me, baby?” He asked, sucking on one of your nipples causing you to moan. “You just wanted to act like a slut, hoping we did this, is that why?”

“Yes Minho, just wanted you” you moaned again as he moved onto the other breast. He just groaned, you were good to him, too good. He moved down, kissing your stomach and then your thighs. You rubbed them together, wanting some sort of friction.

“No, keep these open for me kitten, I want to see your sweet little cunt.” He said while pulling down your panties. “Fuck baby, this pussy is so wet, tell me who’s doing this to you.”

“You are Minho, only you can do this to me.” you moaned as he liked a stripe against your pussy. His lips catch your clit, sucking on it causing your legs to shut. “Kitten, what did I just say?”

“To keep my legs open for you.” You were hiding your face behind your hands, a bit ashamed of how wet you were for him, how much he turned you on. “So, let’s keep them open okay? You can be a good girl and do that for me can’t you?”

You just nodded, opening your legs again. “Fuck, you taste better than any dessert you’ve ever made me.” He said while licking your pussy another time. “You are going to let me eat you for dessert whenever I need it aren’t you?”

“Yes Minho, I’ll let you do anything to me” you moaned as he started putting his veiny fingers inside of you. He began fucking his fingers inside at a quick pace, still sucking on your clit and all you could do was moan.

He hadn’t even put his cock in you and you could already feel yourself cumming. “Please Minho, too much, I’m gonna cum.”

“Then be a good kitten and cum on my fingers, then I’ll make you cum on my cock. You can take more than one round, can’t you baby?”

“Yes, can be a good girl for Minho, please can I cum, please sir let me cum” you moaned as his fingers hit that particular spot in you causing you to go over the edge, your entire body shaking as you came over the edge, cumming on his fingers.

“Minho, need your cock, please need it inside of me.” you pleaded and he was in awe. You had just cum, but you were still begging for his cock. He was going to have fun with you.

“You just came and already need my cock? How much of a needy slut are you? You just want your hole filled at all times?” He scoffed at you. He was still fully dressed as you were fully naked underneath him. You pawed at his shirt and he just laughed. He took it off, along with his sweats.

You could see how hard his dick was through his boxers, your eyes widening a bit, trying to hide your reaction by covering. He chuckled at your reaction, releasing his fat cock from his boxers, taking a condom out of his drawer, and tearing the foil with his mouth.

“Yes, just a slut for you sir, I need you, need you in me.” You spread your cunt apart with your fingers, trying to show him where you needed him most and he just groaned.

He slowly pushed his tip inside of you, knowing how eager you were. He was also eager, his dick hard as soon as you moaned his name the first time. “Fuck baby, this pussy is so tight, don’t know why I didn’t fuck it beforehand.”

He slowly pushed his dick inside of you, your cunt squeezing it tight, making it hard for him to fully still inside of you. “Baby I need you to relax so you can take my cock. You can be a good kitten for me and do that right?”

You simply nodded, taking his fingers into your mouth once again, wrapping your lips around his digits, causing him to groan as he finally entered you fully. “Fuck baby, you feel even better than you taste.” You simply moaned, feeling so full as he was fully inside of you.

“So good Minho, feel so full” you moaned, feeling so full of him you couldn’t help but clench around him. “Please move, I need you” You looked up at him, his fingers going back into your mouth and he couldn’t control himself. He began thrusting into you, causing you to moan around his fingers.

“Fuck this pussy is so tight, gonna fuck you all around the apartment from now on. This pussy is mine and mine only, you got it?” You just nodded as he began thrusting into you faster.

You were on the verge of cumming, but Minho pulled out before you could. Before you could protest, he flipped you around, your ass up and face at the end of his bed looking straight at the mirror in front of you. “I want you to see how pretty you look on my cock, how my cock is making you dumb, how good it is making you feel.”

You felt yourself going dumb, the only thing on your mind was Minho and his cock. “Minho, fuck it feels so good.” you moaned, feeling him hit that spot inside of you. “Yeah, kitten? Look at who’s making you cum, look at who’s making you dumb on their cock.”

“You are, you are making me feel this good” you moaned as his thrusts got harder. With one more thrust, you were cumming on his cock.

“Fuck, this pussy is to die for” he groaned, continuing to thrust into you trying to get to his own high. After a few more thrusts, he could feel himself getting ready to cum. “Where do you want me baby?”

“In my mouth,” you said with no hesitation. You wanted to taste him like he tasted out. “Fuck kitten, you are going to be the death of me” he took off the condom, wrapping his hand around his cock. With a tug of his cock, he came into your mouth. You swallowed all of it, showing him and he kissed your lips.

You both fell back on his bed, him wrapping his arms around you as he covered you both with his blanket. Both of your clothes still splayed on the floor of his room. “That was… unexpected,” you said.

“A good unexpected or bad?” he asked a bit scared of your response. “Definitely good,” you said while kissing his lips. He grinned, “You better cancel that date tomorrow because I’m the one taking you out tomorrow.” You just hummed, playing with his hair.

Minho didn’t need to know that no one had actually asked for your number, you were just trying to make him make the first move.

taglist: @sclassstay @minhosify

(my perm taglist is open, also sorry for forgetting to add my tag list, it just slipped my mind, so sorry)

#skz #stray kids #straykids x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #straykids smut #ju <3 answers #skz lee minho #skz lee know #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know #lee minho #ju <3 writes

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flightfoot · 7 months ago

Text

Marinette is the second-biggest liar in Miraculous

Marinette's fascinating. She says she hates liars, but she will freely use lies to get things to go the way she wants - sometimes to help others, and sometimes to help herself. To the point that I'd argue Marinette's a Guile Hero, even. Outside of cases where NOT lying would have catastrophic consequences (e.g. Marinette needs to tell a lame excuse in order to go be Ladybug), she'll lie to try and avoid embarrassment or to help accomplish some goal she has.

The show doesn't often focus too heavily on the fact that Marinette's lying during these, so I feel like they're overlooked a lot, but I'd have trouble telling those lies, personally, since I really don't like lying. Something really needs to at least be true from a certain angle in order for me to feel comfortable saying it.

Anyway, I've decided to go through all the episode transcripts to document these cases in order to get a clearer picture of them, and try to figure out what it means for Marinette. I'm not going to include cases where Marinette's lying to herself, lying so that she can run off and fight the akuma, lying to try and trick an akuma into a position where they can be defeated, lying to maintain her secret identity, or things like that, though there will be some gray areas, of course.

Darkblade

While most of the time when Marinette's late to class it's due to her doing something as Ladybug (which she obviously can't tell people, so she has to lie), she'll lie even if she's late due to things she COULD explain, like when she was working on a trap for her diary and lost track of time.

(Marinette enters the classroom.) Marinette: Hi! I'm sorry! I-uh, I-uh, the bus, (Marinette starts coughing), dry throat!

The Mime

Marinette accidentally deletes the video of Ladybug talking to Alya, so instead of fessing up to the mistake, she steals Alya's phone so she can recreate the video, lying to Mylene about why she has the phone when asked.

(Marinette's phone rings.) Marinette: Hey there, Mylène! Mylène: (from phone) Do you have Alya's cellphone? Marinette: Uh, Alya's phone? Ah! There it is! It must have fallen down off her bag! Silly girl. Alya: (from phone) It's me! I'm here too. Marinette: Oh! Hi, Alya. You're on speakerphone? Hmm.. 'kay, I'll give it to you later on...at the show. See ya! (Tikki looks at her deceivingly.) Marinette: Don't look at me like that. This is all gonna work out! I think...

Marinette does fess up at the end of the episode at least, since she couldn't recreate the video.

The Collector

I'm not counting Marinette's lie that she used to return the Grimoire, since she stole it at Tikki's behest for good reason, and it was best that she not hint at the truth of how she obtained the book.

I AM counting Marinette lying to Fu though, because while I understand why she did it, telling him the truth was a viable option.

Master Fu: How did you discover this book, Marinette? Marinette: (Marinette has a flashback of Adrien with the Miraculous book.) I... uh... I found it, lying on a bench in a park close to... close to the school. Master Fu: You didn't see who it belonged to, then? Marinette: No. No, I...didn't. (Tikki looks at Marinette in a bewildered manner.) Master Fu: What a shame. For a moment, I thought we were about to discover the identity of Hawk Moth. We would've had a chance to defeat him. Marinette: Uh... I could investigate if you want.

Prime Queen

While Marinette double-booked herself as Ladybug and as Marinette and her not being able to say that she double-booked herself is partly why she was driven to lie, Marinette DID have other viable options for dealing with the situation she'd created for herself. She could have just gone to the bathroom, called either the network or Chat Noir, and said that something came up and she had to cancel. I don't know that that would have been the better option per se given how many people would have been disappointed by that, but it would certainly have been the more responsible choice.

Marinette:(Stutters) Oh, I forgot to err, tell my bakery something. They're in the parents downstairs. Do you mind keeping an eye on Manon while I'm not here? Alya: Don't you mean tell your parents something in the bakery? Marinette:(Continues stuttering.) Err, right. Well, err, sometimes, it can take a while - they don't always understand even when I explain. Err, actually, it's not their fault, they... Alya: Marinette? Marinette: Yes? Alya:Go! Marinette: Right! (Marinette then leaves with running down the stairs and starts talking to Tikki.) Alya's such a good friend, I feel so guilty for inviting her over just so I can leave her with Manon - then again, Alya is Ladybug's biggest fan - she'd be crushed if her favorite superhero didn't turn up for her favorite TV show.

Glaciator

This one's a weird example. I'm not sure why Marinette even lied about this. Maybe for privacy's sake? It's not exactly a secret that she loves Adrien though, and she's not doing it out of denial.

Marinette:(stares at the ice-cream) Uh...um. No! I- There's been a mistake! I'm not in love with anyone. And I think I just lost my appetite. (hands the ice-cream back) André: Why of course you are, my little one. When there's love burning in one's heart, André knows it from the start. Enjoy your ice-cream, Marinette. I know he'll be here. (Marinette stares at her ice-cream with a sad look on her face) Ivan: Green eyes like mint... Who could that possibly be? Marinette:(to André) Thank you, but you've got it all wrong. I don't have a- (She suddenly hear a whistle. She turns her head and sees someone walking who has the same clothing as Adrien) Adrien? (But it turns out to be Wayhem. She sighs)

...okay so this other part from Glaciator isn't a lie, but I think is something I need to note, considering some of the things Marinette does down the line.

Ladybug: Listen, I don't wanna play around with your feelings. It would be the same as lying to you. I don't wanna do that. You're more than a partner, Cat Noir. You're my friend. And I'd never wanna lie to a friend.

Like I fully believe Ladybug meant this at the time so she wasn't lying, but man this did not age well.

Troublemaker

This is another "Marinette lies to avoid embarrassment" scenario. She's not ready to confess to Adrien yet.

Marinette:(interrupting Adrien) Oh, so you watched the show, then! (laughs nervously) Well, uh, look...about what you saw on the show last night — the totographs, in my room— Adrien: You mean the photographs? Marinette:(assertively) The grotographs, exactly! (meekly) It-it's not what you think. (pauses) See...I'm really into fashion, and, umm... Adrien:(leaning forward with a piercing, impish glare) Are you lying? Marinette: No! I'm so not into you—I mean, sure, I'm interested in you, but, um, not in that way; well, you know, ha-ha-ha-ha...ha ha!

Gigantitan

Marinette does lie to Adrien about why she came to the park out of nervousness, she does this a lot.

Marinette: I came here to do some sketching! (holds out her sketch pad) I can't believe we've run into each other here! Hey, would you like to—?(She and Adrien hear his bodyguard honking the car horn impatiently) Hang pout? I mean, hang about? No, hag out? (The bodyguard groans again) Oh, forget it. (chuckles) Better not keep your guard waiting. Adrien: Uh, okay. (Marinette sighs when she realizes she still couldn't ask Adrien out. Her friends are all annoyed at her as well.) But we can take you home if you want it.

Befana

Marinette does lie to her grandma about liking her candies in order to spare her feelings, which isn't really a bad move, but it didn't turn out well either.

Marinette: No! No, it's awesome! I can make this work. It's perfect, grandma. Thank you. Gina: Your Nonna has also brought you your favourite candy! (she places a tin in Marinette's hand) Marinette: Oh! (she laughs uncertainly) Gina: You still love them, right? Marinette: Yes, yes of course...

Gorizilla

I guess this is another "lying out of embarrassment" deal, though I'm not sure why she even bothered with Alya, she's FULLY aware of how enamored Marinette is with Adrien.

Commercial voice and Marinette: Radiant. Carefree. Dreamy. Adrien... (Both Marinette and Tikki suddenly hear the phone. Marinette pauses the video to pick up when she sees that the caller ID shows Alya.) Alya: Marinette, I've been waiting for you for fifteen minutes! Where are you, girl? Marinette: Uh, I was deciding which swimsuit to wear. (chuckles) (The video from her computer starts playing again.) Commercial voice: Radiant. Carefree. Dreamy. Alya: Uh-huh. And the Adrien's ad helps you pick out a swimsuit, girl?

Style Queen

This is another case where Marinette's lying because she's nervous and scared, she doesn't want Audrey to turn on her.

Audrey: What is this? Marinette: Uh… (nervous laughter) Chloé: Uh, Mom, this is Marinette Dupain Cheng, the loser! And this is a hat she made, because she thinks she's a designer. (holds the hat upside down) She even signed it, look. Marinette: I— It's not me, it's another Marinette! I was just bringing it to, uh— Nathalie: Marinette! We have to go. (Marinette takes the hat and runs off with her face buried in the hat)

Reverser

This is another case where I'm not even sure why Marinette lied? Honestly she seems to do it instinctually when she panics. She could've told Adrien the truth about her and Marc wanting to see whether Nathaniel likes the book Marc wrote.

Marc: Do you think he likes it? Marinette: Look at his face, of course he does. Adrien: It's rude to spy on people. Marinette: Eh.. (quickly spins around) No! It's not what you think at all! It's just that... it's gonna be... eh... Nathaniel's birthday soon and, ehm, Marc and I wanted... to give him a disguise... I mean, surprise! Adrien:(not paying it) Cool! (winks) Very typical of you, Marinette. Well, if you need any help with that, let me know. Marinette: Sure won't! (higher pitched voice from embarrassment) Sure will. (slumps) Marc: You're just as shy as I am, aren't you? Marinette: Just do as I say, not as I do, okay?

Anansi

Marinette wants to make sure Nino wins the arm-wrestling competition so Nora will take him seriously, so she sabotages Nora (and uses a lie to give herself the opportunity to do so).

Nora: Really? Is that all you got? Alya: She's gonna rip his arm off. (shakes her head) Nora:(fake yawns) Marinette:(gasps) Over there, an akuma! (points past Nora) Nora:(turns her head to look where Marinette pointed) What?! (Marinette grabs Nino's and Nora's hands and pulls them towards her, so Nora loses the wrestling.) Adrien: And the winner is… Nino! Marinette:(fake sheepishly) Oops, my bad; it was just a fly.

Marinette does fess up to Nora afterwards, thankfully.

Bakerix

So here, Marinette wants to get Roland to open back up to her father, and she's pretty sure telling the truth will get her frozen out (which she is most likely right about) so she resorts to trickery.

Tikki: What are you waiting for, Marinette? Marinette: If I tell him who I am right away, he won't listen to me, just like with mom. (rings doorbell) Rolland: (through an intercom) What do you want? Marinette: Uh... I'm... a friend? Rolland: I don't have any friends. Marinette: This won't be easy. (rings doorbell) Rolland: What do you want? Marinette: Hello, sir. It's the mail lady. Rolland: Do what you usually do. Throw the mail in the trash. (Marinette looks over, sees the mailbox empties into a trashcan. She sighs, then rings the doorbell.) Rolland: What do you want? Marinette: It's for the firefighter's calendar? Rolland: Ah, doesn't need the fire. I hate calenders!

I find it interesting that Tikki actually calls Marinette out for her attempts to infiltrate, including her lying.

Tikki: You sure you should be sneaking in, lying, and pretending to be someone else? You've never met your grandfather, you don't know how he'll react! Marinette: Well, it's not exactly a lie. After all, I am actually- (loses her balance) Delivering the! All the uh! (catches herself) The flour! What really matters is that he comes to dad's birthday party, and that they both make up. (Pushes the front door open, then whispers) Hide, Tikki! (She examines the house as she walks in, noticing all the old-fashioned technology and furnishings)

And of course, she continues to lie to Roland after getting in. I'm not actually sure what her plan was here? I guess to build up some sort of rapport with him before revealing the truth.

Rolland:(startled, turns around) You're not Gilbert! Marinette: No... I'm, um, Germaine! His cousin! Rolland: Hmm. Aren't you a little young to be delivering flour? Marinette: I'm... an intern! (giggles) I'm doing a flour delivery internship, because some day I wanna own my own flour shop! Rolland:(frowns, and turns back to his dough) It's good to be ambitious. You can put the sack down now. Have a nice day. (to his mouse) Soot! (the mouse brings over a bag of soot) Marinette: So you're a baker then, huh? Rolland: Are you a flour delivery girl or a nosy detective? Go on! Put the bag down and be on your way! Marinette: That oven you have there, it's a '72 La Pegnole, Right? It's a rare woodfired model! They only made a few hundred of them! Rolland:(spins around) How did you know that? Marinette: My daddy- uh, um- My bready, bread history teacher taught us that. Rolland: Well, that's new. (incredulous) You need bread history classes to become a flour delivery person now? Marinette: You bet! You have to study for ten years to be a delivery person these days! Rolland:(throws his hands up, then returns to kneading) Good luck with your internship, Germaine. Now put the sack down and have a good day!

Weredad

I'll let Marinette's initial lie about being in love with Chat Noir slide because she panicked and only said that because she believed it was the only way to conceal her secret identity, though there were better options, she just didn't think of them.

I AM counting the way she reacted to Chat gently turning her down though, she had time to think that one through and she went way overboard.

Cat Noir: Anyway, I'm afraid my heart belongs to someone else. (Marinette looks up) Even if she keeps rejecting me. (She looks towards Cat Noir) Even if she loves somebody else. I'm in love with Ladybug. (to Marinette) I'm really sorry, Marinette. (Her parents recoil in shock.) Marinette: (excitedly) Oh, this is so— (She remembers she's supposed to be heartbroken.) Uh… (She looks at her parents.) So sad! (grabbing Cat Noir, dramatically) Oh, to think I spent all this time following you everywhere to tell you that I loved you Cat Noir! (cries) I am so miserable! (weeps on table) No one will ever love me! (Her father looks sad and concerned) (into her hands) I'll end up all alone with my hamster, (running to the stairs) and its name will be (inhales) Loneliness!! (She slams the door and continues crying)

Marinette: (singing) La, la, la, la, la! Ah, such a relief, Tikki. Phew! He's not in love with me. (Tikki looks disappointed)

She really didn't think through how her overreaction here would make Chat feel at all, or how it might cause her parents to act towards Chat.

Silencer

For Silencer, I think Marinette lied here because she didn't want to bring up what seemed to be a love confession that he might not have truly meant as himself. I do still think she should have told him since he directly asked her what he said and because what he said still affects her behavior towards him, so he deserves to know, but I see why she didn't at least.

Marinette: (grabs ahold of Luka before he goes onstage) Luka? Did you really mean those things you said when you were akumatized? Luka: I'm sorry, Marinette, but I don't remember. What did I say? Marinette: Uh, oh, nothing. It was nothing at all. You were possessed by Hawk Moth's akuma.

Christmaster

So this is another "lie Marinette's telling out of embarrassment", though it's also a kind-of pretend-lie, like when Alya claimed to Manon that she was secretly a unicorn. With little kids the line between lying and playing pretend gets blurry at times.

Marinette:(thinking) Uh, look I can't tell you that these are the gifts I've made for Adrien's next 35 birthdays. Cause you'd tell your brother Nino and he'd tell Adrien and Adrien'd think that I'm totally crazy! Wait, maybe I am. (To Chris) Hmm. I can't tell you I'm one of Santa Claus's elves on a secret mission and that I'm looking after one of his boxes of gifts. You wouldn't be interested though; because gifts are for babies, right? And you're a big kid. Chris: That's a lie! Marinette: What, that you're a big kid? Chris: No, that you're one of Santa Claus's elves! Marinette: I can't say anything more.

I do find it interesting that Tikki called her out on it though.

Tikki: A Christmas elf on a secret mission, seriously, Marinette, don't you think you went too far this time? Marinette: I know, Tikki, it was pure ridiculousness. But I couldn't tell him the truth about the gifts. Besides, I simply told Chris a nice little story, which hopefully will teach him some patience. (She picks up the felt dolls and walks to her desk. Tikki looks unsure.) Speaking of patience, I've got an idea of what I can give Adrien for his 50th birthday! Give me a hand?

There's also some follow-up with Chris at the end of the episode.

Marinette: Sure will! It'll be awesome. We're really good buddies. (Alya closes the door) I know I shouldn't have told you that I was one of Santa's elves. But you were acting like— Chris: A baby, I know. Mommy says lying is wrong. So from now on, we'll always tell each other the truth, okay? (He puts out his pinky)

Ikari Gozen

Most of Marinette's nonessential lies are white lies because she's nervous or embarrassed or she thinks it'll help the situation.

What she does in Ikari Gozen is not that. While I don't think she was actively thinking in terms of "I want to hurt Kagami," that was mostly because she wasn't thinking of Kagami as being an actual person with feelings that could be hurt. It's amongst the worst things Marinette has ever done, though she DID at least realize she was being an ass by the end and tried to make it up to Kagami.

Tikki: Marinette, this isn't fair to Kagami. If you won't be her friend, she won't be able to play. Marinette: Yeah, right. She's so smart, I'm sure she'd figure a way around it. Probably even do it twice as fast by herself. In fact, I bet I'd just slow her down if I went. (gasps) Of course! You're right, Tikki! If I stick with her, I can make us lose. And then Adrien would never see Kagami win and they'll never fall in love. Tikki: Uh, come to think of it, perhaps it would be better for you not to go. Marinette: Hide, Tikki! The game is on! (runs over to Kagami) Kagami! Woah! This must be fate! I mean, what were the odds of you and I being paired up? One in ten million at least. Right? So awesome! (chuckles) Kagami: You didn't look too happy about being my secret friend, though. I saw you turn around and walk away just now. Marinette: (her eyes twitch) I-I actually thought I'd, um, gotten the place wrong. I totally hadn't seen you yet. No way! Really, I'm super excited to play the game with you. (smiles nervously)

Party Crasher

So Marinette didn't feel like telling the other girls the truth about wanting to investigate what all the boys were doing.

Marinette: (senses something is wrong, gasps) Oh! Uh... speaking of excuses, I- I- forgot that I was supposed to help my... grandpa bake a cake for one of his mouse's birthday today. Sorry, Mylène. Catch you later, girls! (takes off) Alya: Did I miss something, or is it bad excuses world championship today?

Tikki actually asked Marinette about it later on. Turns out she lied in order to spare Mylene's feelings.

Tikki: Marinette, this isn’t the way to the bakery. Marinette: No, Tikki, I just said that so I could lead my investigation undisturbed. Tikki: You lied to your friends...? Marinette: I didn’t want to upset Mylène. It was her idea to plant the trees this afternoon. But something totally fishy’s going on. All the boys are unavailable with really lame excuses, and trust me, I know a lame excuse when I hear them. I’ve turned into an expert at them since I became... you-know-who. (winks) I know, I’m gonna call Ivan. He can’t lie to save his life. If there’s something secret going on, he’ll definitely blab.

Marinette comes up with a plan that involves more lying, which again, Tikki calls her out on.

Marinette: All the guys are together at Adrien’s place, so why can’t I be there too? I’ll just pretend I was passing by and, uh... Tikki: Yet another lie? Marinette: Just a half truth.

Marinette's not allowed in since it's boys-only, so she disguises herself and lies in order to crash the party.

Marinette: (in a fake accent) Hi there! It's a-me: Marino! Your neighbor! I heard there was a party going on here, a guy's-only, so I'd like to come-a too, because, uh, I'm a guy. Heh! In fact, it's hard for me to walk with all these guy muscles of mine. Hehe! (The gate opens. She cheers in her normal voice) Aha! (goes back to her fake accent) I mean, hoo hoo! (walks inside and into Adrien's room)

Marinette, as well as Nino, both admit that they weren't exactly honest this episode.

Nino: (to Marinette) Things would probably have gone differently if I hadn't lied. Marinette: I wasn't completely honest today either, but... Nino & Marinette: ...I did it for Adrien. (laugh) Marinette: If we hurry up, we can still plant trees with the girls.

The Puppeteer 2

So this is another case of "lying to avoid embarrassment".

Manon: Really? But I thought you and Marinette were boyfriend and girlfriend. (Marinette squeaks) She has lots of photos of you all over her bedroom. Adrien: (laughs) That's because she loves fashion and I'm a fashion model. Manon: But then why are there so many hearts drawn on them? Marinette: (laughs nervously) Those aren't heart! Those are, uh, upside-down spades! I was just coming up with some new, uh, patterns, for my fabric designs. (covers Manon's ears and leans towards Alya with clenched teeth) You told me you wouldn't tell Nino!

Ah, the honesty of little kids, always making things difficult.

Adrien: Were you serious when you were talking to the statue? I mean... me as a statue? Marinette: Serious? Me? (fake laughs) You gotta be kidding! I'm the queen of pranks! (fake laughs) I knew you were playing a prank on me, so I just wanted to get you back! Gotcha!(laughs forcefully) Adrien:(slowly) So you didn't really mean all the things you just said? Marinette: Of course not, I was role playing! I was in love with a statue, not with you! (stands) If I'd feel anything for you, it wouldn't be like for that statue, rather like, for a... regular human being! (fake laughs)

Again, more lying to avoid embarrassment.

Shanghai Special

So here, she's lying about wanting to reconnect with her roots because she thinks her parents will think it's lame/creepy for her to want to fly halfway around the world to follow Adrien. Though she does genuinely end up connecting with her roots and enjoying her time with her great-uncle.

Marinette: (enters) Mom! Sabine: (turns to her) The package! It'll never make it in time! Marinette: Yes it will, because I'm gonna hand it to uncle Wang myself. (Tom and Sabine look perplexed.) You see, because it's high time I visit my uncle in person! Because my uncle- (trips over the package and gets up.) It's my roots. And I've been trying to connect to Adri- I mean, my roots - for so long! And he keeps- I mean, they - keep eluding me. (Tom and Sabine look at each other) And without him- I mean them - without my roots- I mean, I feel incomplete! (She covers her face with her hands and peeks from between her fingers.) Sabine: Marinette, are you saying that... you want to go to Shanghai?!

Truth

Obviously Marinette lies a lot in this episode for secret identity reasons, but she also just does it out of embarrassment.

Luka: Thanks for the photos of your bedroom (Marinette checks phone and discovers the accidentally-sent pictures by Ziggy) and of Adrien. Marinette: Ah, my room! Yeah, I- uh- it's full of photos of Adrien because I uh... I'm using them for fashion pics for my blog and I need your opinion on them because I know you have great taste, Adrien. Luka: My name is Luka. Marinette: Haha yes of course, Adrie- I mean, Luka. You're Luka, obviously, hehe, because you're you, and I am me, Marinette. Hehe, uh, I'm so sorry, it's just that I've been so busted- uh I mean, busy!

Gang of Secrets

I'm not gonna list every instance here, but Marinette's pretending to be okay to the point that it goes beyond "lying to herself" and more to "is afraid to let anyone in and is lying because she's scared."

Marinette:(crying) Alya: Marinette? Have you been crying? Marinette:(whilst faking the emotion) Me? Crying? Are you kidding? I'm super happy! Let's celebrate and have a party! I'm so happy!

Crocoduel

So this is a case of Marinette lying because she's panicking and wanting to get out of the situation she's in. She asked Juleka to somehow disinvite her own brother from their shared birthday, assumed that she had managed to do it, and when she showed up and found that Luka was there, she flailed. She claims to Alya that she doesn't want to talk to Luka because she's afraid he'll get akumatized if he hangs around her and they're not dating, with knowing that she broke his heart, but honestly it mostly seems to be because SHE can't handle being around him, knowing she broke his heart. Luka's handling the situation just fine.

Luka: Hey, Marinette! Marinette: (panics and runs away) Excuse me! Sorry! I've got something to do! It's super urgent! Yep! Bye! (falls on the stairs that leads below the deck) I'm okay!

Ephemeral

This is another case where I think Ladybug REALLY screwed up. She's not telling a malicious lie per se, but she's trampling all over Chat Noir's agency with nary a thought to whether he has the right to decide things ABOUT himself FOR himself, since she's afraid he'll make the "wrong" choice. Honestly I think this IS probably the worst thing she's done to date, even the Big Lie she tells in season 5 is more understandable in my opinion.

Cat Noir: Oh, yeah! So then, why did you need me exactly? Ladybug: Well... actually, it's kind of linked to what happened today. I've given it a lot of thought ever since I became guardian, you know? (leans on the fence) And, I've realized that... you were right after all. (turns to Cat Noir) We should tell each other our secret identities. Cat Noir: But, aren't the secrets supposed to protect us? Ladybug: I thought so. But when you didn't show up today, I didn't know how to locate you because we can't communicate when we're not transformed. If something bad happened to one of us when we're not heroes, we could know about it. It would make us stronger. We'd be able to defeat Shadow Moth quicker! Cat Noir: (walks towards Ladybug's side) So, we're doing this, for real? Ladybug: Yes. Cat Noir: Wow. Okay. You go ahead, m'lady. Guardians first! Ladybug: No, you first. Cat Noir: Let's do it together. (Viperion listens to their conversation while he's in the sewers.) Ladybug: No, I mean it. You go first. I'm... feeling kind of... awkward.

I know Ladybug actually going through with this plan was overwritten in the new timeline, but this WAS still her plan, she just got interrupted before she could put it into effect, so I still count it against her. It was really screwed up how easily she was able to lie to Chat here while appearing totally sincere.

Strikeback

Ladybug briefly tries to pretend that she misspoke and has no idea what Chat's talking about when he catches her talking to Rena Furtive, but she sees that he's not buying it and fesses up. She really doesn't directly lie about someone knowing her identity, Alya helping them out secretly, etc, during season 4, but she definitely keeps it secret when she shouldn't have.

Ladybug: Nice one, Rena. Cat Noir: (surprised) Huh? Rena Rouge? Where is she? Ladybug: Uh... Rena who? (Cat Noir squints in annoyance.) Ladybug: Fine, she's hidden. It's best you don't know where, it's too—

Destruction

Alya's trying to get Marinette to stop spiralling and watching news footage about Monarch, but Marinette's doing so anyway and lying about it so that Alya doesn't lecture her.

Alya: (in the video blog) Now that Shadow Moth stole almost every Miraculous and told us people to call him Monarch, with all these powers, what is he planning? (The real Alya enters the room's trapdoor, much to Marinette's panic.) Alya: Marinette, what did we say? Marinette: (pauses the video, stuttering) Th-The video launched itself! Alya: (sarcastically) Of course, it did. (goes back to her normal tone) Hey, you want some fruit with your tea?

Elation

So this one is a combination of Ladybug lying to try and get what she wants and her lying to try and make her behavior look normal.

Ladybug: Let’s at least kiss before we say goodbye! (kisses Cat Noir on both cheeks) Cat Noir: (steps backward, causing Ladybug to fumble on her feet) What are you doing? Ladybug: I always kiss four times. Come to think of it, actually, four is a little stingy. How about eight? Cat Noir: (steps away) I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not gonna work, m’lady. We’re partners and friends. Ladybug: Wait, what's up with you? You have a new girlfriend or something? Cat Noir: (gasps and laughs) You’re testing me! Could I tell you if I had a girlfriend. No, because the less we know about each other, the harder it is for Monarch to win. So, did I pass the test? Ladybug: (dejected) With flying colors.

Derision

Here she lies to avoid going to school, since Chloe's set on making her life miserable. I don't blame her, honestly.

Sabine: Aren't you eating, sweetie? Marinette: I have a tummy ache. Can't I stay home today? Sabine: Hmm... Yesterday, your foot hurt, and the day before that, it was your head. Come on, chin up. You only have two weeks of school left with her. She probably won't even be in your class next year. Marinette: Three years in a row, Mom. Why would my luck change now? (stands up from the table and bumps her cereal bowl, spilling milk on the table, her clumsiness thriving yet again, to which Sabine simply smiles)

Emotion

I'm not sure even Marinette totally understood why she so desperately wanted to crash the party in this episode, her explanation to Tikki didn't really make sense to me. She wanted to support him and let him know that not telling her was alright or something?

Chloé: (upon seeing Marinette and scrutinizes her) Oh! You're new! What's your name? Marinette: Uh- Zoé! My name's Zoé! Chloé: Yyyuck! Just like my half-of-a-sister. But at least you have style! How rich are your parents? Rich? Very rich? Immensely rich? Of course, otherwise you wouldn't be here! (grabs Marinette's hand and pulls her along across the dance floor) It's too bad we can't bring out underlings with us. I'm sure these tin cans can serve properly but we can't make fun of them! (grabs a drink from a Tsurugi robot and kicks it) So lame! What's your underling's name? Marinette: Um- Chloé. Her name is Chloé.

Conformation

Here, Marinette lies about wanting to check on Adrien. I'm not entirely sure why? Like, does she think her parents might try to stop her...? I think is one of her "panic-lies", where she lies instinctually when scared even when there's really no good reason to do so.

Marinette:(Runs downstairs and passes by her parents watching TV on the way.) I have an errand to do. See you later! Tom:(Blocks the door.) A-Aren't you going to eat something before you leave? Marinette: I'm not feeling very hungry, dad. Sabine:(Puts her hand on her husband's shoulder.) It's understandable that Marinette would have a poor appetite after Adrien's departure. Tom: But breakfast is the most important meal of the day! (Pulls out an enormous bag filled with croissants.) Marinette: Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, don't worry, I– (Experiences another flash of pain and grabs her head.) (Tom and Sabine look at their daughter with concern.) Marinette: This has... nothing to do with Adrien. I'm fine! I promise. Besides, he's just in London, he's probably doing great, there's no reason to worry. I was just heading out to meet up with my friends. (Takes the bag of croissants from her dad.) And that mountain of croissants comes at a perfect time. Love you both! (Walks out.) (Marinette's parents follow her outside and watch as she leaves from the top of the staircase.)

Re-Creation

This is the biggest lie Marinette's ever told, one that's likely to reverberate through the series for seasons to come. Lying about not knowing who Monarch is and about Gabriel being a hero. Marinette didn't lie all that often during season 5, but she did tell the biggest lie of all.

Marinette: You're not wearing it? Adrien: (while fidgeting with the rings) When Ladybug gave it to me, she told me how my father helped her to defeat Monarch, at the cost of his life. I don't know if I'll ever manage to be like him.

Action

Here, the class decides that they need to lie to gain an audience with the plastic guy. Marinette is there spokesperson, which makes sense since with Lila gone, she is by far the most experienced and accomplished liar in the class.

Marinette: Yes, it is him! Adrien Agreste in the flesh! (gestures to Adrien as he smiles) Amazing, right? (as Nino breaths a sigh of relief) And as it turns out, we're escorting him, all of us, to his meeting with Mr. Bertrand King. Adrien: Right, that's it. I'm uh...(looks towards Marinette for help) Marinette: Here to discuss new advertising campaigns for the Morpho fans. Adrien: Right. Marinette: We're his personal team of... (coming up with an excuse) ...delivery and cleaning people. (the Guard just stares. He then takes a look at Kim, Max, Adrien who smiles with Marinette, Alya, Ivan and Mylène.)

So some surprising results from this. Marinette barely lies in season 1, but she does so quite a bit in the following seasons, especially season 2. I didn't realize before that Marinette has this tendency to lie instinctually when she's panicking, even if she doesn't actually need to, it seems like it's become a defense mechanism for her.

Marinette's definitely a Guile Hero who can and will lie when convenient, sometimes out of embarrassment, sometimes because she's scared, sometimes to attempt to spare someone's feelings, sometimes to try and gain control of a situation, and sometimes just to get what she wants. Most of them aren't *bad* lies really, but she's definitely not the super honest person she sometimes gets painted as, both in the show (by Adrien, which makes sense, he thinks highly of her) and by the fandom. She may hate liars, but that doesn't mean she won't use it as a tool when she thinks she needs it.

#miraculous ladybug #ml analysis #marinette dupain cheng #for future reference #Some surprising results when I actually looked through and documented every time Marinette lied #Not counting when she's doing it necessarily for things like secret identity reasons #I was right in my supposition that she lies a lot and pretty casually though

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