#pining pining all the pining!! 😭😭😭😭

[salemsinss]

(AN: 18+ MDNI reader is GN but there are some feminine terms. This is not really edited I wrote it during my lunch break, this is also my first time writing anything period 😭)

Something something I had a dream about this idea, Old Money!reader and Gardener!Simon Riley, he not only knows how to tend to your garden, but is great at tending to you.

Gardener!Simon Riley who love to get down a dirty adding new flowers to the garden beds on a weekly basis, and always comes into the kitchen for some water smelling like an absolute man.

Gardener!Simon Riley who is suspiciously always adding new garden beds around Old Money!Readers property, just days after they go on a nice a date.

Gardener!Simon Riley asking reader what their favorite flower is so he can get ready to plant them when they are in season

Gardener!Simon Riley surprising reader with a whole planter of their favorite flowers, and a herb garden next to the kitchen he had been secretly working on.

Gardener!Simon Riley he’s not great at expressing his feelings or emotions but he tries to tell you things via the language of flowers and gift giving.

Old money!Reader always thanking Simon for the beautiful garden with a peck on the cheek

Old money!Reader always waiting in the kitchen to have a glass of water ready for Simon to come inside, so they can give it to him and see him all roughed up from taking care of their land

Old money!Reader making lunches themselves for Simon specifically rather than having the help prepare him something

Old money!Reader hoping Simon is pining after them the same way they are

Old money!Reader kissing Simon on the lips as a small thank you the garden bed full of their favorite flower

Gardener!Simon Riley pawing at them like a beast while deepening the kiss, and forcing his tongue into your mouth so he can taste all of you.

Old money!Reader breathless when they pull away from the kiss pleasantly surprised by it

Gardener!Simon Riley who refuses to let go of readers waist and ass dragging them off to the garden shed

Gardener!Simon Riley who bends reader over a stack of bagged soil in the shed, nipping at the back of their neck and feeling the up, groping their ass and playing with the fatty flesh of their hips.

Gardener!Simon Riley who pulls down the readers pants, spreading their legs with a kick of his boot, “you’ve been driving me insane-“ he’d growl into readers neck before kiss along the nape and down their back

Gardener!Simon Riley who leaves a trail of kisses over reader’s clothing and down their hips and ass before he’s on his knees inbetween readers legs

Old Money!Reader who’s still a virgin shocked by the sensation of getting eaten out for the first time trying not to cum to quickly afraid of looking easy in from of simon

Gardener!Simon Riley who could care less about readers body count since reader wouldn’t be sleeping with anyone else anyway

Gardener!Simon Riley who gives reader a mind blowing orgasm within 3 minutes, slick covering his chin and nose, sticking to readers thighs as they shake and dig their fingers into the bagged soil in front of them

Gardener!Simon Riley who doesn’t stop with the first orgasm and keeps going till the reader is begging him to stop from overstimulation but is also so close to cumming a second time

Gardener!Simon Riley who drives reader to and through their second orgasm feeling the small amount of squirt dribble over his face and he smirks into their cunt over that

Gardener!Simon Riley who finally stops eating you out and pulls you back so he can kiss you hot, nasty, and sloppy style making you tase yourself on his lips

Gardener!Simon Riley cleaning reader up with his dirty wife beater and pulling their pants back up before kissing them again more gently and sweeter while patting their ass

Old Money!Reader who’s stumbling out of the garden shed on wobbly legs after two life altering orgasms face flushed as they head back inside and go make lunch for Simon just thinking about when they can do that again

[isleqt]

another gojo fic recommendation because its all i read honestly 🙄🙄

The writing here is excellent! the story is well cultivated and thought after omgmg. Its another unspoken thoughts friends to lovers thingy idiots, idiots in love. I wanna strangle and beat up satoru in this hes such a stupid little bitchh hes got no balls SAVE MY GIRL Y/N or save me wtv

THE emotions the pining the slow burn the tension, and the misunderstandings is horrid (ILOVEIT) The trio dynamic here is fiery and lets talk about the middleman, my one and only shaylaaa suguru 😞😞 fuck gege, his character development written and it being shown in povs always hurts me bro like what are these writers from ao3 eating to perfectly embody the pain and betrayal like these flashbacks killing me yall i actually cried 😭

(i apologize for putting this out here and yapping but i need to talk about it bc i cant tell my friends about this bc what business do i have still reading fanfics at this age?? oml)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39115551?view_full_work=true

[masorciereviolette]

T.W.O.G: Mourning Temptation & Sweet Surrender

Pairing: Post Salem Agatha Harkness x Reader

Warnings: Explict, Graphic Descriptions of Sexual Content, Cunnilingus, Reader had a MAD oral fixation ngl, Teasing, Mutual Pining, Mutual Unspoken Confessions // Acknowledgement, Possessive Behavior, Light Dom/Sub Behavior but it switches between them ngl.

Word count: 3.1k

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

A/N: I truly hope you enjoyed & if anyone is interested in more “past chapters” posted that relate to the present day story lmk! I apologize if it’s not all that great, I’m still trying to get a hold of writing explicit work without making it sound too Shakespearean- yes I HAVE received the critique before. I grew up on disgustingly cheesy romance novels and dr who, SUE ME✋🏽😭 This is technically a part 2 to a considerably long time stretch well after Agatha had fled Salem, In Part One you simply find out how The Reader & Agatha Met and it goes on from there. Hope you give it a shot! :)))))

The Weight Of Grief Masterlist & Extended Chapter List

Pt.1 Here (How they Met)

Summary:

You awaken to the unexpected warmth of Agatha Harkness still tangled in your arms, after yet another night of keeping her out of trouble. A woman who belongs to the shadows, the cold Salem nights, and the secrets between spells, she is rarely one to linger in one place for long—but here she is, her breath slow and steady against your skin.

What starts as teasing banter quickly spirals into something deeper, a charged game of control and surrender. The morning becomes a battlefield of touch and desire, where power shifts with every kiss, every whispered taunt, every slow, deliberate stroke of fingers against heated skin.

Yet, beneath the haze of pleasure, something more lingers—a silent war within Agatha, a flicker of hesitation at the idea of staying, of being more than a fleeting moment in your bed. The challenge is laid bare in her gaze, the weight of an unspoken truth pressing against the intimacy you share..

A slow warmth stirred against you, the weight of a body curled into yours, the scent of magic and something unmistakably Agatha lingering in the air.

Your fingers flexed against the soft skin of her bare back as awareness crept in, the quiet glow of morning spilling lazily through the curtains.

She was still here.

Agatha Harkness did not belong to the morning. She was dusk and shadow, midnight temptation wrapped in a purple cloak.

Yet here she was, tangled in your arms, her breath slow and steady against your collarbone. For a woman who usually carried the weight of the world, she looked almost peaceful like this.

Almost.

Her lashes fluttered, a slow drag before hypotonic blue eyes flickered open, already gleaming with mischief.

A smirk tugged at her lips as she shifted slightly, her leg slipping between yours, pressing close enough to make you exhale sharply.

“Well, well,” she purred, voice thick with sleep and something deeper. “Someone couldn’t keep their hands off me last night.”

Her fingers traced idle patterns along your side, her touch featherlight, teasing. But even half-asleep, Agatha knew exactly what she was doing.

“You could’ve left,” you murmured, sliding a hand up the curve of her spine, nails raking just enough to make her shiver. “But you didn’t.”

Her smirk deepened and she shifted, her knee pressing more firmly between your legs, the slow drag of the blanket doing nothing to cool the heat that pulsed between you.

Your breath hitched, and Agatha caught it instantly, her grin sharpening as she rolled her hips—just once, just enough to make you grip her waist in reflex.

“You’re dangerous,” you breathed, half in warning, half in surrender.

Her lips brushed your jaw, her breath hot against your skin.

“Mm, and you like that.”

It wasn’t a question.

Her mouth found the spot just below your ear, teeth grazing, lips pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses that made warmth pool low in your stomach.

You exhaled sharply, your grip tightening on her hips, but she only hummed in satisfaction, knowing full well what she was doing to you.

“Tell me,” she whispered against your skin, “how exactly did you earn the pleasure of waking up with me?”

You inhaled, trying to focus, but it was impossible with the way her body pressed against yours, the way her fingers dragged lower, teasing, never quite giving you what you wanted.

“You already know-” you murmured, tilting her chin up just enough to meet her gaze.

Her smirk faltered for just a moment, something darker flashing in her eyes before she reclaimed her power.

She straddled you fully now, pressing you deeper into the bed, her fingers slipping beneath the blankets, nails skimming your skin in a slow torturous dance.

“Mm,” she hummed, tilting her head. “I do know….”

Her lips hovered just over yours, not quite kissing, just close enough for you to feel her breath.

“But I do love hearing you say it.”

The anticipation burned hotter than the morning sun spilling through the curtains, her presence pressing in from every direction. You weren’t sure if it was her magic or simply her—but it hardly mattered.

Your patience snapped.

You caught her wrists, rolling her beneath you in a swift motion that had her gasping—only for her surprise to melt into something sultry as she arched beneath you, her smirk returning full force.

“Oh,” she whispered, a challenge laced in every syllable.

“Feeling bold, are we?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you kissed her—hard.

The smirk vanished, replaced by a sharp inhale as your lips crashed against hers, hands sliding up her thighs, fingers gripping roughly, you guided both legs around your waist.

She responded instantly, pressing up into you, parting her lips just enough for you to taste the heat of her sigh. You run you tongue across her bottom lip, nipping softly.

She wasn’t the only one who knew how to tease.

You dragged your mouth lower, across her jaw, down the column of her throat, nipping at the sensitive skin there until she gasped—a real, unguarded sound that made something in you tighten.

“Now,” you murmured against her pulse, feeling it race beneath your lips, “tell me, Agatha—how exactly did you earn the pleasure of waking up in my arms?” You teased back

She let out a slow, breathy laugh, her nails digging into your back as she pulled you flush against her once more.

“Oh, darling,” she purred, voice thick with wicked promise.

“Let me show you.”

Agatha moved like she was casting a spell, weaving touches and whispers into incantations you had no hope of resisting. Her hands mapped the planes of your back, her nails dragging just enough to leave a tingling heat in their wake.

The air around you shimmered, charged with the remnants of magic, or perhaps with the sheer gravitational pull that existed between you.

She rolled her hips again, deliberate this time, drawing a low, desperate sound from your throat. Her smirk returned at that, knowing and wicked, but you refused to let her keep the upper hand. Not this time.

Your fingers traced down her sides, feeling the smooth heat of her skin beneath your palms. She shivered, just slightly, and you filed that knowledge away for later.

Agatha Harkness was a woman who commanded power, who wielded control like a blade. But here, beneath you, tangled in blankets and morning light, there were cracks in her armor—tiny fractures where something softer, more vulnerable, shone through.

And you wanted to see all of it.

Leaning in, you kissed her again, slower this time, drawing it out until she sighed against your lips, her body softening beneath yours. One of her hands slid up, threading into your hair, her grip firm as she tugged just enough to pull a quiet gasp from you.

“Still think I should have left?” she murmured, her voice husky and edged with amusement.

You hummed, dragging your lips down her throat, pressing lingering kisses along her collarbone.

“I think,” you mused between kisses, “that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.”

Agatha stilled for a fraction of a second. Not enough for most people to notice—but you did. It was a flicker, a whisper of hesitation that she buried almost immediately, tilting her chin up, letting you worship her the way she deserved.

Your hands explored her, tracing the curve of her ribs, the dip of her waist, the warmth of her bare skin. Every time she sighed, every time she melted just a little more, it felt like a victory. A battle won in a war that neither of you truly wanted to end.

She was intoxicating. The way she arched into you, the way her breath hitched when you bit down gently on the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. The way she pulled you closer as if she couldn’t stand the space between you.

“Mm,” she hummed, fingers trailing along your spine.

“You’re playing dangerous games, darling.”

You grinned against her skin, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat

“And what exactly is the danger?”

Agatha’s fingers tightened in your hair, tilting your head up until your eyes met hers. The mischief was still there, but something deeper lurked beneath it—something that sent a shiver down your spine.

“The danger,” she murmured, dragging a thumb along your lower lip, “is that you might actually make me want to stay.”

The confession was light, almost teasing—but you felt the weight of it, the truth hidden beneath the velvet of her voice. For all her power, for all her confidence, Agatha was not a woman who allowed herself to belong to anything or anyone.

And yet… she was still here.

You met her gaze, holding it, letting the moment stretch between you. No spells, no games, no teasing. Just the quiet truth of her body beneath yours, of your hands on her skin, of the way your heart beat in time with hers.

“Then stay” you whispered.

The challenge flickered across her face, the war between temptation and self-preservation. But then you kissed her again, slow and deep and full of unspoken promises, and just for now, just for this moment, Agatha Harkness surrendered.

Trailing your fingers teasingly up her inner thigh, you nipped her bottom lip. Stopping just before reaching where she wanted your touch the most.

Agatha let out a small gasp, her back arching slightly as she felt your fingers dancing ever so teasingly along her inner thigh.

"You're playing with fire here, darling," she hummed, a hint of warning in her already lust-filled voice. "And you just might get burned."

You smirked, trailing your fingers higher, but still stopping just shy of where she desperately wanted to feel your touch, skimming your fingers over the damp fabric. Leaning in, you nipped at her earlobe before whispering

"Isn't that half the fun of it though? Feeling that heat, that intense, blazing desire until it consumes us both and we're left with nothing but ashes?"

You hummed before scraping you nails teasingly against her skin

Agatha inhaled sharply, her thighs trembling slightly at your words, at the promise of more.

"You talk pretty, I'll give you that"

she murmured, reaching up to grip your hair, tugging your mouth back to hers in a hungry, demanding kiss.

She dominated the kiss, her tongue invading your mouth, laying claim to you in a way that made your toes curl. You melted into the kiss, your hands gripping her hips, pulling her impossibly closer.

Agatha's fingers drifted lower, teasing the waistband of your undergarment, her nails dragging against the fabric. Close enough that you could feel the warmth of her hand radiating through the thin material.

"But words are wind, baby. It's actions that matter,"

she whispered against your lips, her voice a low, seductive rumble that seemed to vibrate straight through your core. Her words were a challenge and an invitation, a dare to show her exactly what you were capable of.

She was playing the game now, but the stakes were higher than ever before. It wasn't about teasing flirtations or cliched come-ons. This was raw, carnal lust and unspoken promises of pleasure so intense that it might just ruin you for anyone else

You felt a thrill of exhilaration at her challenge, realizing this was the moment of truth. Surrendering to instinct, you delivered your own brand of action to teach Agatha the depths of your desire for her.

Trailing your fingers across her cloth-covered sex, you felt the dampness, knowing your touches and words weren't in vain. Agatha gasped softly at the intimate contact, her hips subtly tilting up seeking more.

"Actions speak louder than words-"

you murmured, moving your delay no more. In one swift motion, you pushed the fabric to the side, circling her clit teasingly. You ran your fingers down through her soaked folds before plunging two fingers deep into Agatha's slick heat, fucking hell—she was absolutely dripping.

Agatha cried out, her voice conduits of carnal pleasure as her walls clenched around your invading digits. "Fuck!" she gasped, her head falling back against the pillow as she gripped your shoulders.

Emboldened, you began to move your fingers in earnest, stroking that spot deep within her that made her toes curl and her back arch.

Agatha's hips rocked into your hand as you pleasured her, a litany of breathless moans and whimpers leaving her lips.

"Yes— "

she hissed as you curled your fingers at a particularly sensitive point inside her.

"Just like that. Don't you dare fucking stop—"

Grinning wickedly, you complied, your thumb finding her clit once more and rubbing slowly as you thrust your fingers in and out of her fluttering entrance.

Her breath hitched as the stimulation intensified. The wet sounds of your fingers plunging into her sex, her labored breathing and whorish moans filled the room.

"I-I'm..." she gasped as her body stiffened and trembled beneath you.

You knew she was close, so you rubbed harder, faster, determined to make your lover fall apart completely.

"That's it,"

you urged, your voice low and encouraging.

"Let go for me..."

With a strangled cry of your name, Agatha did just that, coming undone as her climax crashed through her. Her sex clenched around your fingers rhythmically, gushing fluids as waves of pleasure washed over her.

You worked her through it, continuing to stroke until the last aftershock subsided. Pulling your fingers free, you slowly brought them to your lips, making a show of cleaning the essence of your lover's climax from your fingers.

"You are divine," you praised wickedly.

Agatha was left panting as she stared at you with glazed eyes, a blissful smile on her kiss-swollen lips.

"And you, my dear are far more dangerous than I first thought."

You leaned in slowly placing a soft kiss to her lips

“I want to taste my prize…..“ you hummed against her teasingly, fingers slipping beneath the ruined fabric clinging to her hips, peeling them slowly down her thighs you mindlessly tossed them aside.

Agatha swallowed hard, her lights eyes darkening with renewed desire at your words. She gripped your face, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched and your noses brushed.

"Then take your prize, darling,"

she breathed out, her voice a husky, lust-filled purr.

"Taste what you've done to me."

With that, Agatha spread her thighs wider, baring herself completely to your hungry gaze. The sight of her glistening folds, still slick and swollen from her recent climax, made your mouth water.

She looked debauched and breathtaking all at once.

You didn't hesitate. You couldn't. The temptation was too great. Agatha watched, panting softly, as you settled between her legs. Her sweet scent filled your nostrils, the aroma of her arousal thick and heady.

You started slow, trailing teasing kisses along her inner thigh, taking your time to appreciate the smoothness of her skin. Agatha squirmed beneath you impatiently, one hand fisting in your hair.

Pleasing her was fast becoming your favorite hobby. You loved seeing her come undone, loved hearing the desperate sounds she made as you slowly pushed her to the brink.

And so you took your time, alternating between soft kisses and gentle nips, until she was writhing against the bed.

When you finally reached her core, Agatha was practically mewling, her hips undulating in a silent plea for more.

You smirked up at her devilishly before you licked a long, slow stripe up her weeping slit, softly sucking her throbbing clit between your lips before releasing it with a pop.

"Ohhh divine mother..."

she groaned, Her voice breaking on a gasp as you took your first real taste of her. The flavor exploded on your tongue. Sweet, tangy, and utterly intoxicating, like the finest ambrosia.

It was just as sinful and addictive as the rest of her, and you knew you would never get enough.

Reveling in the way Agatha shuddered and writhed at the first flick of your tongue against her pussy, you dove in to feast on her, lips and tongue working in tandem to drive her wild.

You plunged your tongue deep into Agatha's hot, clenching center, reveling in the slick heat that embraced and drew you in. Your hands gripped her ass, kneading the firm globes as you ate her out with renowned fever.

Agatha's head tipped back as you pleasured her, a symphony of high-pitched moans and breathless cries filling the room.

Her thighs quivered and clenched around your head as you took your time wringing orgasm, after orgasm from her willing body.

The taste of her arousal flooded your mouth as she came undone against your questing tongue and lips time and again, you savored the gift of her pleasure and intoxication as she surrendered herself completely to your every touch and whim on every level imaginable.

Throughout the sensual onslaught, Agatha's hands gripped your hair, sometimes pushing you closer, often tugging you back as the sensations you stimulated within her became too intense for her.

You held on stubbornly, refusing to ease up on your loving assault of her sweetness, you could taste the ecstasy she achieved and relished oh so much in the tremors and aftershocks of bliss that rocked her trembling body in your arms.

Finally, Agatha slumped back against the bed, boneless and sated. Her chest heaved as she gulped in lungful of air, her eyes glazed and unfocused in the afterglow.

You crawled up her body slowly, kissing every inch of skin as you went, until you were lying next to her once more.

You brushed sweat-damped waves back from her face, cupping her cheek as you met her stunned gaze.

"Such a good girl "

you praised softly, brushing your lips against hers. Agatha could taste herself on them, that telltale flavor of her pleasure lingering and arousing her to no end.

"Coming for me so beautifully. I have a feeling I'll be tasting you a lot more often from now on"

You purred, giving her a wicked grin and a nip at her bottom lip.

Agatha managed a breathless, blissful laugh at your declaration, her eyes sparkling with mischief even as exhaustion and satisfaction clouded them.

"When you put it that way, I look forward to it.."

she murmured, a wicked little smile playing about her kiss-swollen lips.

She lifted a trembling hand to your face, her fingers trailing down your cheek in a intimate caress that made your skin tingle.

Agatha studied you for a long moment, her gaze intense and unreadable, before leaning in to capture your mouth in a slow, deep kiss that tasted of a promise kept... and a thousand more yet to come.

You kissed her back fervently, pouring all of your pent-up passion and desire into the embrace. It was a silent acknowledgment of the shift that had occurred between you both - a metamorphosis from silent admirer to fierce, unabashed lover.

You wanted Agatha with every fiber of your being, and now that you had a taste of paradise, nothing in this world or the next would stop you from devouring the whole damn orchard……..even if it kills you.

*************************************************

[theflyingfeeling]

A small thing but the fact that Aleksi liked the new Olli pic 😭💕 (he’s the only one who liked it and he doesn’t even follow the account 🥺)

oh but 🥺🥺🥺 what if it's because he's always checking Olli's tagged posts 🥺🥺😭 because he missed Olli and his stupid face 🥺😭😭

[mroddmod]

they are like puppies. 2 me

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

I spent all day on this, now I'm gonna go spend the rest of my Halloween with my family, I LOVE YOU GUYS, HAVE A GOOD HALLOWEEN!!!!!

I lost the ask this was supposed to be attached to :'(

Woah, actual communication??? Between these bozos?? More likely than you'd think 🙏

Previous!!

Next!!

First!!

[nenoname]

It's still interesting that TBoB called more attention to Stan's control over his mindscape (And if you go with the interpretation that the lost pages are partial truths that are heavily influenced by Bill, then he's the one insisting that only someone with training should be able to have that much control over the mind.)

Meanwhile we have a memory!Stan. Someone who apparently knows too much and is rather aware for being a simple memory.

From the Wheel of Shame, we know Bill was able dig up all kinds of dirt on Stan but... that wasn't why he was there in the first place, was it?

Bill couldn't find the code immediately despite a memory of Stan opening the safe being a few hours old at most and decided to have Mabel try find it for him (The original concept of the ep had it far more hidden but this was likely cut because of time constraints)

Ford did experiments on Stan's mind which likely meant using Project Mentem and actually looking around his mindscape, and his only reaction was to comment on his jokes-- despite what little we the audience know being enough to render us sobbing wrecks

(yes I refuse to shut up about this part cos the book's intro is extremely underrated)

Stan was able to replace his memories of Ford with the swingset instead and managed to hide Ford in his Bar Mitzvah memory. And that's not even mentioning the lack of visible Portal and Stan o' War which noticeably show up in Ford's dreamscape (the broken swingset manifesting anyway pains me tho)

He subconsciously has misdirects for his secrets that are both silly and manages to disturb everyone too

And while Bill-as-Soos being bored by the vending machine memory is a joke that's basically the crew's way of going "hey remember the thing way back in the first ep that's going to show up in the next one?" and in-universe appears to be Stan slipping up, it's interesting that they had Stan input the wrong code when it's consistent literally every other time its inputted (especially when it shows up correctly in the very next episode)

It's even possible that the safe code that Bill found could have been a misdirect too but we'll never know since the safe got blown open by dynamite.

Stan was able to buy time by making his mind blank despite being genuinely terrified when Bill enters his mind (to the point that he breaks character and uses his own voice to yell), and could conjure up his living room (in colour opposed to his mind's regular greyscale) to make sure Bill didn't have enough room to flee, slamming the door in his face before the effects of the memory gun kicked in.

(EDIT: Random door analysis here)

And maybe the twins eventually told him that Bill had already been inside his mind after their W3 reunion, but all we know was that his conscious self was left in the dark for ages and wasn't really aware of Bill until Weirdmageddon.

TBoB showing McGucket's dreamscape also brings up the idea of the effects of the memory gun manifesting differently to each person. To Stan's mindscape, the memory wipe manifests as blue flames which immediately brings to mind Bill's powers but it's a far lighter shade (maybe to more closely match the memory gun and its eventual fade to white?)

The end of TBoB and the website poem also firmly reminds us about Stan's connection to fire but there's also the question if Stan himself is actually aware of it...

[noodles-and-tea]

You’ve just got this real magic, capturing the sunshine summer of childhood in the tiny Pines twins. Like I am fully convinced I could show the overcast sky one of your pictures of Stanley and the sky would be like. Pack it up clouds, time to get back to the sun.

Ohh thank you :(((((

[knockknockwhosthereartistism]

Dipper and Mabel’s parents should count themselves lucky it took 40 years for these two losers to reconcile

[seiwas]

cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.

[sunsestart]

This IS basically journal 3, right?🤨

[dandeleon]

HAPPY FIDDLEFORD FRIDAYYYY‼️‼️:D

[hereissomething]

ah yes, the toxic hate triangle

[theflyingfeeling]

Yeah of course not drawing any serious conclusions but it’s nice to imagine things😁

As I said, this blog is extremely pro 'imagining things' 😌

[intothehandsoffate]

listen to me. Listen. I believe so much in fiddauthor shacking up in the mansion. E Stan.