#sure they would like to be their own people again and not be stuck together but. what can u do

[barcaatthemoon]

complicate me || leah williamson x reader ||

Coming back to Arsenal was a mistake, but you and Leah manage to make an even bigger one together.

18+

You had always known that you wouldn't be at Manchester forever. A three year loan was a pretty long time, and for a moment, you had hoped that it would become permanent. Arsenal had let you stay the couple years, but with Jonas out, management ended your loan early. They wanted you back in red, not that you could blame them. There were a lot of important games coming up, and even if you technically couldn't play in a couple of them, you were still an important piece for practices.

It felt weird for you to walk the training grounds at Arsenal by yourself. Jen was gone, and she had always been the person you could count on to still be your mate after everything. Leah had kept most of your friends after the breakup, and then you hadn't exactly helped your case when you just up and left after everything.

You could still remember the way that Caitlin had practically begged for you to stay with the team. If it wasn't for Jen, you probably would have been convinced to stay. A part of you regretted leaving, but you knew that you hadn't been in your right mind with Leah so close after everything. At the time, it all seemed like too much to be reconciled, but now you were hopeful that things could be fixed.

You'd never in a million years get back together with Leah, no matter how good she looked. It didn't matter how many drinks you had on a team night out. After the first couple to celebrate wins, however, you promptly decided that you'd be a loner at Arsenal. With Jen in California, you had lost your personal voice of reason, the only person who could truly keep you away from Leah for your own wellbeing.

"Come on, you have to come over. You never do anything with the team, everybody's gonna think that you hate them," Caitlin pleaded with you. The two of you had been going back and forth for the past week about you coming to the party she was throwing with Katie at their place. It was a bye week, so everybody was free to enjoy the weekend. You knew there would be a lot of drinking, and that was what scared you. You had always been able to hold your liquor pretty well physically, but you made absolutely terrible decisions sometimes.

"Cait, nobody wants me there. Let's face it, they barely even want me playing here again," you reasoned. Caitlin could see you start to move to get up and rushed to grab onto your wrist. "Caitlin, I don't want to argue about this."

"Then don't argue and just come over for a bit. You don't have to talk to anybody but me. Just please, I miss you. I've missed you since you moved and iced everybody out," Caitlin said. She gave you her best puppy dog eyes, and if it was anybody else, you probably would have just said no. But because it was Caitlin, you gave in despite your better judgement.

That afternoon when you got out of training, you went straight home and immediately called Jen. You had hoped that she would convince you not to go, but instead, she had fully agreed with Caitlin. You hated hearing how it was a good idea to bond with the women you'd be spending the next two seasons of your career with. Once your contract was over, you could go somewhere else, but for now, you were stuck at Arsenal.

A lot of things had changed since you left. The changes may not have seemed like much to people who had been around, but they had definitely taken you by surprise. The big one had been Caitlin and Lia. Caitlin had been clinging to Katie's side when you arrived, and Lia was stuck by Lia.

Years before, you had been close with Lia, even closer than Lia and Leah were. Now, you just had Caitlin, who you had only befriended because of Lia. It hurt for the Swiss woman not to even look your way, but you couldn't imagine how it looked to her. You were sure that everybody had gotten Leah's side of the story, which you weren't calling bullshit, but you knew had to be biased.

"You look good. Leah's staring," Caitlin said as she nudged you.

"Whatever." You brushed off Caitlin's comment, but only to force yourself not to glance over at the blonde. You couldn't let yourself get sucked over there, not when you knew where it would end up. Leah had an uncanny ability to complicate everything in your life, and she had been doing it for years now. Your relationship had been far from perfect, but you were happier then. Now, you were miserable while she was getting a chance to live her best life.

"(Y/n), I didn't think you'd come." Katie looked just as surprised as she sounded. Caitlin swatted at the Irish woman's chest, but Katie seemed unphased. "I'm glad you came. It's been boring without my favorite drinking buddy."

"Do you really want me to drink you under the table this early into the night?" you asked teasingly. Katie scoffed at that, but didn't deny that you usually did win the little competitions. You watched as Katie sent Caitlin a pleading look before Caitlin just nodded. Before you could react, Katie grabbed your hand and led you into the kitchen where the alcohol was.

You let Katie pick the alcohol, and thus, your competition began. You should have known better than to start drinking like this so early into the night, but you wanted to have fun. It had been so long that you believed that you deserved to have a good night out. Several shots later, and you found yourself having to help Katie stumble out of the kitchen.

"Katie, you promised you'd stop at 5," Caitlin huffed as she took her girlfriend from you.

"Hey, it's not my fault that she did doubles," Katie slurred. Caitlin glanced over at you, who just barely had a rosy tint to your cheeks. You didn't seem too out of it, so Caitlin left you there to make Katie sit down and eat something with the hope of sobering her up a bit. It couldn't have been more than maybe 30 seconds of you being alone for Leah to find her way over to you.

"I see that you're enjoying yourself," Leah teased. Your eyes narrowed at her, but your anger was fleeting. You couldn't hold onto any one emotion for too long before forgetting what exactly it was that you were feeling. "You're gonna be feeling that tomorrow."

"That's not your concern," you told her. Leah seemed a bit shocked by the snark in your tone. She shouldn't have been surprised by it, you had spoken to her in worse tones constantly by the end of your relationship. "Why are you over here? You told everybody that I ruined you. Nobody wants to talk to the woman who ruined them."

"(Y/n), I was hurt. You know that I lash out when I'm hurt, besides, I am much more mature than I was before," Leah said. She placed her hand on the small of your back, and it ignited something inside of you. Without an ounce of hesitation, you turned and tried to kiss Leah. "Hey, no, not like this. I want you, but I want you to want me back."

"Leah, it's complicated. I'm complicated now," you told her. Leah bit her lip and glanced at the bottle of alcohol just sitting on the table behind you. You followed her gaze and immediately knew what she was getting onto. "You want to be on my level?"

"I don't think I'd feel so bad if I was," Leah reasoned. You didn't like the thought of her needing to be drunk to want you, but the notion was gone as quickly as it popped into your head. Everything was fleeting, except for your desire to have Leah. You didn't necessarily want her sexually; you just wanted her close. If you had to crawl into bed and open your legs for that, then you were more than willing to do so.

The trip back to Leah's was a bit of a blur. Leah's place wasn't too far from Katie and Caitlin's, close enough for the two of you to walk there. The two of you had left fairly early into the night, but it was nearly 11:30 by the time that you had gotten inside. Neither of you seemed to care as you had both been guilty of stopping to kiss and feel the other up.

Your lipstick was smeared on Leah's mouth and neck by the time that you got back to her place. She paused as she caught a glimpse of herself, a little more disheleved than normal. Leah promptly turned her atttention over to you. You looked just as far gone as she did, pupils blown wide as you watched and waited for her to make another move on you.

"Come on," Leah said as she tugged you along with her. Leah tried to move quickly with you, not giving you a chance to take in the state of her home now that you were gone. She was scared that if the two of you stopped for too long, you would notice all of the little pieces of you that Leah had refused to give up.

The truth was that she had tried, and for a while, they had been gone. However, Leah had always kept the few boxes of trinkets and little things you left behind in her closet. Lia had begged Leah to throw it all away, but the blonde couldn't bring herself to do it. Eventually, she began hating the way that her house felt, so she slowly put all of your things back in their rightful places.

Leah kept the light in her room off, guiding you to the bed herself. She didn't think about you waking up in the morning and seeing anything, but Leah doubted that the two of you would be on speaking terms for a while after tonight. Any time that you let yourself get remotely close to Leah for a little, you always blanked everybody for about a week or two.

"Lee, it's dark," you said. Leah just hummed, neither of you stopping in your attempts to undress each other. You wanted to see Leah's body, but you weren't willing to pull yourself away from her to turn on the lights. You didn't need the lights on to know the look of concentration on Leah's face as the two of you ground against each other.

You could vividly imagine everything happening around you. This was far from the first time that you had closed your eyes and just tried to imagine all of the things you remembered about Leah. Now, it was much more real than before with Leah panting and moaning in your ear.

"I want to feel you. I want to be inside of you," Leah told you. You had never been glad to be laying down before in your life. There was no way that Leah wouldn't have known how her words would affect you. You were sure that Leah could feel the surge of arousal as it coursed through your body.

"Fuck me, Leah, please," you begged her. You pushed a needier tone than usual, letting Leah really hear every ounce of desperation inside of you. Leah groaned as she sat back on her knees. One of her hands slipped between your legs while the other went between her own.

Leah could just barely make out the twisting of your body in the moonlight. She was so much closer than you were, but Leah wanted to make you cum. She wanted to feel you clench around her fingers at least one more time. She didn't know whether or not she'd get another chance to touch you like this again, and so she tried her best to savor the moment.

…

The hangover from hell was the least of your problems whenever you had woken up the next morning. With Leah fast asleep next to you, you quickly snuck out of her home. It had once been your home too, but once again, you were running from it. A few quick phone calls to Arsenal's management staff about taking some time off for your mental health and a hasty plane ticket purchase later, and you were dead set on leaving the country.

Leah would be mad at you, as would Caitlin and everyone else, but you had to go. You watched as a text was sent out from management about you taking the next month off. Text after text began flooding in as you packed a bag. You didn't know how long you'd really be away for, but you just had to get the fuck away from London for a while.

"Jen? I know it's early for you, but I fucked up. I'm not over her, and I just need to clear my head for a couple of days. I swear that I won't be long, they're giving me the month, so I'll probably go back to Glasgow for a bit too. I just, I'll see you later." You had always hated leaving voicemails, but the words just poured from your mouth. You knew that your best friend was going to kill you when she saw you, but she'd also take care of you too.

[tossawary]

I'm reviewing episode transcripts from "Merlin" to build up my worldbuilding document (character list, mostly) and, a little ways into S2, I'm kind of feeling like the show is actually quite mean to Arthur as a character sometimes? S1 E14: "To Kill the King" is one of those episodes where I forget how badly it pissed me off until I run into it again.

Like, don't get me wrong, Arthur can be a bully, entitled, hotheaded, and reckless, but he's also at this point risked his own life to save people multiple times. Both individuals whose lives were "worth less" than his own (getting the Mortaeus flower for a poisoned Merlin, smuggling Mordred out of the city, protecting Ealdor from bandits) and also Camelot as a whole (fighting the plague-causing monster in the sewers, drinking poison to lift the unicorn curse).

Arthur is giving me vibes of being both bored and frustrated (and probably not able to name those feelings or exactly why he has them) because he wants so badly to do good things, but he's not really sure how to go about it because (no one ever tells him anything, he almost NEVER knows what's really going on to make informed choices, and) he's also stuck under the thumb of his tyrannical father, who spends most of their scenes together berating Arthur for being too merciful, for not being dutiful enough, and/or not finding sorcerers for execution fast enough. When Arthur tries to be fair-minded and compassionate, Uther often essentially tells him that he's going to be a weak king with that attitude.

Arthur's pathways to betterment are limited, his parent and role model and boss here is an AWFUL person, but he's trying!

So, it's quite frustrating to get to this one episode where characters like Gaius (extremely biased, admittedly, clearly not an objective individual) are saying things like: "Arthur's not ready. The responsibility would be too great. Brave though he may be, he lacks experience, he lacks judgement."

Like, I don't know, Arthur may be only 21 and kind of a dipshit, but I personally think he'd still do a better job than the guy who tried to kill a kid (Mordred) just for existing a few episodes ago? Maybe? Gwen's father, who wasn't even a sorcerer, is dead explicitly because of Uther's awful laws. Did everyone in this episode forget that Uther tried to BURN GWEN ALIVE AT THE STAKE not that long ago (Episode 3)?

ARTHUR: "[Morgana]'s right, Father. You hear the word magic, you no longer listen."

UTHER: "You saw it for yourself. She used enchantments."

ARTHUR: "Yes, maybe. But to save her dying father, that doesn't make [Gwen] guilty of creating a plague. One's the act of, of kindness, of love, the other of evil. I don't believe evil's in this girl's heart."

UTHER: "I have witnessed what witchcraft can do. I have suffered at its hand. I cannot take that chance. If there is the slightest doubt about this girl, she must die or the whole kingdom may perish."

ARTHUR: "I understand that."

UTHER: "One day you may become King. Then you will understand. Such decisions must be made. There are dark forces that threaten this kingdom."

ARTHUR: "I know. Witchcraft is an evil, father. So is injustice. Yes, I am yet to be King, and I don't know what kind of king I will be, but I do have a sense of the kind of Camelot I would wish to live in. It would be where the punishment fits the crime."

UTHER: "I fear you're right. She's played with fire, and sadly she must die by fire."

When the adult druid (Cerdan) accompanying Mordred is killed (Episode 8), Arthur objects afterwards! On his own! While Arthur is sometimes an active participant in Uther's tyranny and otherwise complicit, he's been told all of his life that magic is inherently evil and corrupting, he was raised by the very man spreading this hateful philosophy, he should probably hate magic more than anyone after Uther, and yet he still disagrees with Uther's methods and judgments. Even though Uther is apparently VERY willing to lock both his son (Episode 4) and his ward (Episode 8) in the dungeons for disagreeing with him and disobeying him!

ARTHUR: The Druid was only in Camelot to collect supplies. He meant no harm. Is it necessary to execute him?

UTHER: Absolutely necessary. Those who use magic cannot be tolerated.

ARTHUR: The Druids are a peaceful people.

UTHER: Given the chance, they would return magic to the kingdom. They preach peace, but conspire against me. We cannot appear weak.

ARTHUR: Showing mercy can be a sign of strength.

UTHER: Our enemies will not see it that way. We have a responsibility to protect this kingdom. Executing the Druid will send out a clear message. Find the boy. Search every inch of the city.

Obviously, running a kingdom is complicated! Uther apparently won Camelot by conquest and is in conflict with many of the neighboring kings, including Odin and Cenred, and likely has more of the respect of the local nobility than young Arthur does. Uther's death would create some instability! (Agravaine de Bois hasn't been created yet, but let's assume there are many other potential vultures.)

But the show generally isn't pushing that angle. This isn't really about smooth transitions of power. Personally, concerning Arthur's "lack of judgment", I do find his ready conviction that it is his duty to die for Camelot's honor if necessary (he says as much to Merlin explicitly before fighting Valiant in Episode 2, then again before fighting the Black Knight in Episode 9) more than a little concerning, but that doesn't seem to be angle pushed here either.

The show has characters (Merlin, Gwen, Gaius) suggesting that offing the King, who regularly kills innocent people, who has forbidden use of the tool that might have saved innocent people from Nimueh's plague or the wraith of Tristan de Bois, would be wrong! It would be murder and murder is bad! It would make (in the words of a grieving Gwen) her "just as bad" as him.

Even though Merlin has at this point already killed Aulfric and Sophia (Episode 7), as well as Mary Collins (Episode 1) because they were trying to kill Arthur. And arguably got an assist with Valiant (Episode 2). And will kill many more as the show goes on. This conversation with Kilgarrah in S1 E14 is in many ways so, so funny:

KILGHARRAH: Well, young warlock, what is it you come to ask of me?

MERLIN: I need your help.

KILGHARRAH: Of course you do, but this time, will you heed my words?

MERLIN: The sorcerer Tauren is plotting to kill the King. He's made an ally of Morgana. I don't know what to do!

KILGHARRAH: Do… nothing.

MERLIN: What do you mean? If I do nothing, Uther will die.

KILGHARRAH: Don't you want Uther dead? It is Uther that persecutes you and your kind, Merlin. It is Uther that murders the innocent…

MERLIN: But surely that doesn't make it right to kill him.

KILGHARRAH: Only if Uther dies can magic return to the land. Only if Uther dies will you be free, Merlin. Uther's reign is at an end. Let Arthur's reign begin. Fulfil your destiny!

[The dragon flies off.]

MERLIN: Wait! Where does it say my destiny includes murder?

KILGHARRAH: Free this land from tyranny, Merlin! Free us all!

I feel for Kilgharrah here. He was VERY straightforward. I don't know how he could have been clearer about this.

I won't say that Merlin's character writing doesn't make ANY sense here (I do think the character writing in this show is NOT amazingly consistent), because... he IS being influenced by Gaius, who is, unfortunately, a bootlicker and also probably extremely traumatized by all of the death he's seen (big contributor of the bootlicking) (also, apparently Gaius only becomes a "freeman" at the end of Episode 6, so there's that). And Merlin is also being influenced by Arthur, who loves his father, despite everything. Merlin spends a lot of time in this show protecting a terrible status quo under some assumption that Camelot will... somehow suddenly become better under Arthur? Instead of perhaps eventually just trusting Arthur and talking to him after their years of knowing each other? There are reasons for this and I don't think they're unrealistic.

There's some tasty tragedy in this silly show, in many ways. Merlin is confused and conflicted and scared and without clear guidance in many ways. Kilgharrah is mysterious and not at all reassuring. Gaius is complacent and (very reasonably) incredibly secretive. Merlin doesn't get to see many of the moments where Arthur speaks up for magical people and tries to talk Uther down. Morgana and Arthur are both stuck here in a "The hands that cradled you are covered in an unimaginable amount of blood." "But they cradled me, yes?" nightmare scenario. (There's also a sexist element where male characters like Gaius and Merlin won't let Morgana know about her own powers "for her own good" in a gaslight-y way that's fascinating to me in how it creates a villain.)

But, also, the compelling elements here don't make certain episodes any less frustrating to watch in their execution. (I don't think villains being frustrating to watch or read necessarily makes them effective villains, especially when what I really find annoying here is the heroes' reactions to the villain. Uther has killed SO MANY PEOPLE! FOR NO REASON!) Especially when a lot of the overall results of this show feel more accidental than purposeful. I do understand why the writers keep Uther around! He's a formidable antagonist to have looming all over the place and the actor is fun.

But OOF, I felt that "Do... Nothing".

Merlin! MERLIN! LISTEN TO THE SCARY DRAGON! MERLIN, REMEMBER THAT TIME UTHER TRIED TO BURN GWEN ALIVE??? JUST BECAUSE GWEN IS TOO NICE TO GO AFTER UTHER WITH A KNIFE AND TAKE REVENGE, IT DOESN'T ACTUALLY MEAN KILLING HIM MAKES YOU "JUST AS BAD"!!! MERLIN!!! YOU HAVE ALREADY MURDERED MULTIPLE PEOPLE WHO KILLED WAY LESS PEOPLE THAN UTHER!!!

In Episode 4, Morgana says to Uther: "You can't chain [Arthur] up every time he disagrees with you." This implies to me that Uther has had Arthur thrown in the dungeons before. In Episode 3, Arthur says to Morgana: "Father will slam us both in chains if he knew I'd endangered you," and maybe he wasn't at all joking with that? Arthur is rattling the bars of his cell here, apparently fairly ready to be aimed wherever Merlin points him, bucking against being aimed at innocents by his tyrant of a father.

But nooo, Gaius says Arthur is "not ready yet" because...??? He seems less hotheaded than Uther to me, honestly. Are his tax policies not up to par yet? You can hire a guy for that. Suggesting that Arthur would be in any way worse than His Majesty "Anyone Who Talks To A Sorcerer Gets Executed Even If They Didn't Know They Were A Sorcerer" feels quite mean to Arthur, really. I think he'd do alright, in comparison, Gaius who lies to the King every single day, but I suppose you sometimes want to be a loyal friend to good ol' King "Made Merlin Drink Poison That One Time And Wouldn't Let Anyone Go Get The Cure". Good for you. Bad for everyone else.

Like, I know, I know this show is not very deep. I like that all of the characters are flawed and fumble a lot! It is a weekly burst of fantasy nonsense that is not especially concerned with consistency in worldbuilding or characters from episode to episode. But the discrepancies here are, like the ones in "Star Wars", weirdly fascinating with all of the holes and wobbly bits it creates.

This show: "Yes, our hero has once again saved the tyrannical king who kills innocents! Preventing the oblivious prince from assuming the throne and trying to do better as he so clearly wants to do! Good work, Merlin, taking the high road (which involved murdering the rightfully angry people trying to kill the tyrannical king) again!"

Me, every time: "...I am genuinely not sure how the show wants us to interpret this. What did they think they were doing with this? Was this always meant to be a tragedy from the first season? Because personally, I'm getting some kind of tragedy from this."

[howlonomy]

Do the Sir Slithers ever get, like, a "turn" being the main pilots of poor gooped-up Kanako, or is it a more constant "Kanako is now herself and Slithers at the same time all the time but the Kanako personality is just more pronounced"?

Very intrigued by the dynamics of this, I imagine she probably surprises her mom every now and then with something that would've been very out of character for her pre-amalgamation

("How much of what I just said/did is the trauma talking and how much is the literal other people who soul-merged with me talking?")

kanako/sir slithers masterpost :]

the way it works is very much everyone gets their own personality, it just happens that bc kanako’s soul is more powerful, she got the body. so she can move the arms and legs, but the snake bodies/her hair she can’t, because theyre sill their own people. IF the sir slithers worked together, they might be able to take over the main body, but bc theyre all too busy fighting each other to be the main character nothing ever comes of it. kanako is always the strongest among them all.

and thats EXACTLY what i was thinking!! obviously, kanako is not the same monster she was before she fell down, but its hard for everyone (including kanako) to pick apart if her ooc moments are just because of trauma or because she’s fused with a bunch of other people with their own personalities. while the snakes can talk on their own, sometimes if emotions are high enough they can kinda,, fuse personalities a little. basically combine to one mind/one goal.

oh yeah, absolutely. she hung around them bc they were kids like her, and their mom was with them and watched over them. unfortunately they got too close and fused. but it was also bc they were familiar; they came from the same place, and they reminded each other of home. she missed the dunes and dina and her mom, and the family reminded her of that. so they stuck together in a shitty awful place

and she doesn’t ever have to go anywhere; the entire family is on her back. their dad isn’t in the picture, so its just a mom and her 6 kids. just like real snakes lmao

yeah!! they need to talk and get socialization in too. they enjoy talking to each other. theyre like friends attached to her all the time so they get up to some scams fun!

[todayisafridaynight]

Since you mentioned it, what did you think of Speak No Evil? I was thinking of watching it myself :0

i really liked it ............ my friend scoffed at me when i told her i was watchin it so take my opinion with a grain of salt tho </3

[tariah23]

Outside of all of… that happening to Gojo, and finishing Snowfall the other day, eek……..

[frannyzooey]

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: E (age gap)

Summary: Best friends with younger one, you’ve known the Miller brothers since forever — you’ve wanted the older one for just as long.

a/n: it’s been a while! I’ve been writing over on Ao3, but thought I would pop in and say hi and happy summer ❤️ enjoy! —

Glancing at the clock on the wall, you wonder how much longer you need to stay before it’s appropriate to leave. 

You can’t even remember the name of the person who's talking at you – someone who said they took calc with you or something, back in high school. Brian, maybe? Ben? Picking at the label on the bottle in your hand, you tip the last swallow of warm beer into your mouth, grimacing at the taste. 

“Gimme a second,” you interrupt him. “I’ll be right back.”

Not a fuckin’ chance , you think to yourself. 

Navigating through the crowd of people packed into the Miller’s living room, you make your way towards the kitchen. Needing another beer to get through it all, you head straight for the fridge – only to see someone already there, their broad back facing you. When they straighten and shut the door, you reach out and pluck the beer from their hand.

“Thanks for the beer, Miller.”

Joel huffs, grabbing another one from the fridge. Turning to face you, he leans his hip against the counter. 

“You even old enough to drink?” Twisting the cap off, he takes a long, slow drink, his throat working with the motion. 

You roll your eyes, and his eyes drift down your body and back up again. 

Playing it cool, you clink your bottle against his. 

“Cheers, old man.”

His eyes narrow, and he waits a beat before tipping the bottle against his lips. 

His face has been a fixture in your life for as long as you’ve known Tommy –  a kid you met back in elementary school. Tommy was a few years older than you, Joel even older than him. The fact that you were younger never bothered Tommy –  you were just as daring as any boy his age, and he was more fun than any girl your own. A fixture by his side more often than not, you’d stuck together through middle school and then high school, through boyfriends and girlfriends, through Tommy’s enlistment after senior year. 

The entire time, Joel was there. 

In the beginning, you never paid him any attention. Busy working since he could, you barely saw him. The couple times you did see him at parties, it was only as Tommy’s ride, or showing up when Tommy got in trouble with his mouth. Like he never had any patience for parties or stuff like that; an aged man since forever. Even at their house, Joel had been…around, but he never stuck around for long. Always drifting away to go hang out in the garage, or in his room. 

It was during high school when you started looking at him differently. Started paying attention to him in a way you never did before. Starting noticing things like he never had a girl around –  or at least one that stuck , though you knew he knew his way around them, because you saw him in town sometimes. 

Walking out of a liquor store with a brown bag, a girl sitting in the passenger seat of his truck. 

Pulling open the door of the bar, his hand on the small of another girl’s back. 

Once, you saw him at the movie theater you worked at senior year. You still remember the heat that flooded your face when he strolled up to the ticket booth where you were standing, the broad smile he had on his face for his date, one that turned your insides warm. His arm was looped around her back, his hand resting on her ass with casual confidence. 

You’d never been so jealous of someone in your life. 

You left him behind (not that he ever knew it) when you went away to college. A visit back home after your first year timed with a visit home from Tommy,  Joel is right where you left him, still on the fringes. Only at the party to keep an eye on things, to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand, still keeping to himself. He’s been upstairs all night, only coming down every so often for another beer. 

The mystery of how he spent his time used to consume you back in your school-kid crush days…and it comes back full force, when he leaves you in the kitchen to go back up to his room. 

Leaving the noise of the party behind you, you climb the worn carpeted stairs. The second floor of their house is off limits to party guests, but you also know that doesn’t apply to you. Having been to this house more times than you can count, you know right where Joel’s bedroom is. You’ve never been in it though, which is part of the pull that drives you towards it – along with a slice of light that breaks through where he’s left the door cracked.

You nudge it open with your knuckle, to find him sitting inside. 

At a desk chair, his legs spread wide in his slouch. A beer rests in his hand, the other one holding a book and at your presence, he puts the book face down in his lap. 

He frowns. “Everything okay down there?”

“Yea. Just thought I’d come up and say hi. See what you’re doing.”

“Said hi in the kitchen,” he teases. He lifts the book with one hand. “And I was readin’.”

Used to his gruff sarcasm, you ignore it. “Any good?” 

His eyes follow you as you walk further into the room, sitting down on the edge of his bed. 

“Not really,” he answers. “Just waitin’ for everyone to leave.”

You know that’s not going to happen any time soon; another large group of people had walked in just as you made your way upstairs. 

A golden hue washes over everything, a single lamp burning on the desk, the colors of everything else dulled in the dim light. Shadows pool in the corners of the room, but he is lit, though only parts of him: the chestnut ends of his curls, his tanned skin, the stretch of his jeans across his thighs. The bed you sit on has a rumpled comforter, clearly having been slept in. 

Arousal pools low and heady between your hips. 

Has he ever brought another girl up here? Has he fucked anyone in this bed?

You imagine it briefly: his flushed cheeks, his heavy breathing, his muscles shifting under his skin. Your hand trembles, and you grip your beer tighter. 

“Already sick of bein’ downstairs?” he asks. 

You thumb at the condensation gathered on the bottle, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Yea. Sort of. It’s always a little awkward when you come back, you know?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. Never been anywhere but here.”

Your shoulders slump, and you let out a sigh. “Right. But you know what I mean.”

Suddenly, the weight of exhaustion pulls at you: the smiles you had to force downstairs, the names you tried to recall, the crush of people and the fake enthusiasm. You came here for Tommy, and you’ve barely seen him tonight. Forgetting for a second that you’re not in Tommy’s bedroom, you relax and let yourself fall backwards on Joel’s bed. The second you do it, you freeze – but don’t correct it. 

You’re in Joel Miller’s bed. Lying down. 

You feel the hem of your shirt ride up, but don’t fix it. The sheets smell like him, and you hear him huff. 

You also feel the weight of his eyes on you. 

–

He should be more annoyed that you’re in his bedroom, but he can’t take his eyes off your legs: a mile long in your cutoffs, the slight peek at the curve of your ass in their ride high. The slice of soft skin he can see, between your waistband and your shirt. 

He watches you roll over and prop your head up on your hand, not liking at all how good you look in his bed. 

He’s been watching you since you came back. Watched you even before that, though he’d never admit it. Walking around their backyard in a tiny bikini when you lounge with Tommy by the pool, looking gorgeous as hell all windblown and carefree sitting in the passenger seat of Tommy’s truck, looking so fucking innocent and beautiful swamped in one of Tommy’s sweaters by the bonfires he’s been having at night since he came back.  

The sight of your ass in those shorts as you walk around their house has been imprinted on his mind all week. 

He sits up, clearing his throat. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he lets his head hang down between his shoulders. If he can avoid looking at you, maybe his cock will stop hardening with interest. 

“I think you better get back downstairs.”

“I just wanna catch up,” you reply innocently, looking anything but. 

He looks up, giving you a knowing look in reprimand. “That ain’t all you wanna do.”

He doesn’t know what compelled him to say that to you , but he does know it to be true. He’s seen the look on your face on plenty of women before – women . You’re a girl . One he’s known since forever. One he never thought about until he did, and one he tried not to think about once he started. 

One who is way too fucking young for the things he’s thought about doing to you. 

“No?” you ask. “Why don’t you tell me what you think I wanna do?”

He shakes his head instead. 

The edges of your mouth curl up in a soft, teasing smile. “Joel Miller, a secret prude.” 

His head snaps up, “I ain’t no prude, honey, you’re just –”

“Honey?” Your eyebrows lift, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m just what?”

“ Young. Too young.”

“I’m twenty.”

He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes and you cave. 

“Almost. In a few months.”

He huffs in disgust, dropping his head back down. “Jesus Christ. A baby.”

He feels you study him for a moment. 

“I missed you while I was gone, you know.”

The confession surprises him, and he looks up to find your face completely sober, truthful. 

“Did you miss me?” you ask quietly. 

The vulnerability on your face pulls at him, and even though he knows what will happen if he gets on that bed, he wants to. If only to tuck you against his chest and reassure you that he did. He really did. He knows you think he never noticed you, but that’s only because he made you feel that way. He couldn’t notice you, for both your sakes. 

“Just come…sit with me, okay?” you ask. “I’m not gonna bite.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, keeping his eyes on the floor. He feels you wait with bated breath, knowing full well that he should stand up and walk you out of his bedroom…but he can’t bring himself to leave you hanging like that. 

Instead, he stands, and walks over to the bed. 

Your face flashes with surprise that you try to hide, and he smirks. 

There is a look on your face he’s seen a million times — a bolstering sort of lift to your chin, the look of a tough girl that would follow his brother anywhere. A girl who never backed down, even when he could tell she was nervous. 

A girl he knows he shouldn’t want, but does anyway. 

He tests the waters, crawling onto his bed. Stretching out next to you, he sprawls across the mattress, his broad form partially covering yours in shadow.  He can feel the heat gather between your bodies. You look even younger close up, and he leans closer, unable to stop himself from pushing to see how far you’ll go.

He recognizes that same determined look on your face now, only this one is slightly different. This one is laced with lust, and want. So much fucking want it makes him ache. 

“Okay, big girl,” he drawls. “Now what?”

–

It’s his turn to be surprised when you lean in and press your mouth to his. 

You can tell because he momentarily freezes when your lips meet, his stubble brushing against your skin, your lips fitting neatly along the seam of his own.  You kiss him again, this time opening your mouth just enough to let him in and he takes your invitation, the taste of beer thick on his tongue when he slides it against yours. His hand comes up, cradling the curve of your jaw as you tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss and a soft sound that catches in the back of your throat has his fingers flexing, pulling you closer. 

The sheets rustle beneath you when he takes over, his hold guiding you beneath him on the bed. He kisses you harder, longer, a deep groan rumbling from his chest, the light of the room blocked out behind him. His solid body weighs heavy on top of you, his denim clad hips pushing between your thighs with a grind and you open your legs wider, his hand sliding up the outside of your leg to hitch your knee around his hip. 

It’s sensory overload after wanting him for so long. You’ve daydreamed about this a million times, imagined it happening a million different ways, but you never thought it would be anything like this. Lost in the weighted haze of lust, drunk on the way he feels against you, head swimming with arousal, the crotch of your panties already so fucking wet that they slide over your achingly empty core with every rock of his hips into yours. Meeting the rolling grind of his hips with your own, you feel the weight of his cock press against you, his calloused hand covering your breast with a squeeze. His hips rock forward again, the grinding promise of what he’s capable of against the damp seam of your shorts and you are just about to beg him for more when he pulls back, standing. 

In one long stride, he shoves the door shut and locks it. 

Tugging his shirt off with a one handed grip over his head, you take in the sight of his broad, solid chest and the dusting of hair that scatters sparsely just under his collarbones. It’s thicker along his sternum, even thicker still just under his navel, where it leads into the waistband of his jeans. He looks so…big, from where you lay on the bed. Older, masculine in a way you’ve never seen on a boy your age. Your eyes run the length of his body and back up again, the outline of his thick cock pushing against the fly of his jeans making your cunt flutter. 

He opens the drawer next to his bed, tossing a condom down and there is something so arousing about the matter of fact action, the implied sight of it just sitting there, waiting for him. Black, with gold letters. When his hands drop to work open his belt buckle with single minded intent, you reach down to slide your shorts off. 

“Don’t.”

Your hands pause. 

“I wanna do that.”

You don’t even know what to say in response before he’s bending to grab you behind your knees, hauling you to the edge of the bed. Your shirt rides up your back, and sit up enough to tear it over your head, your bra following shortly after as his greedy eyes track every movement. His thick fingers pop open the button on your shorts, hooking under the fabric and he drags them down and off, bringing your panties along with them.  

Then he stands there, his hands on your knees. He pushes them apart, and you try not to squirm as he spreads you for him. 

“Goddamn.” The word pours out of his mouth, saturated with awe, low with lust. 

Your thighs flinch, your knees trying to pull together to hide yourself from the heat of his gaze, but he keeps a firm grasp on them, holding you open. 

“Don’t try to hide it from me now, honey.”

His eyes drop from your face to the gleaming spread of your cunt. He reaches down, his thumb brushing over your opening, and it’s so fucking filthy the way he drags it through the mess you’ve made for him. 

“Especially not when it’s this pretty,” he murmurs. 

He drops to his knees, your breath hitching when he tugs you closer to his mouth and guiding your legs over his bare shoulders, his mouth immediately seeks you out. 

“ Fuck .” 

The word slides into a moan when your body bows off the bed to chase the slick heat of his tongue. It smears wetness over everything, dipping inside you to drag upwards to your clit and then he’s fitting the bottom half of his face along your cunt with a messy, open mouthed kiss. 

He devours you there the same way he devoured your mouth earlier, and the sensation is simultaneously  too much but not enough, your hands finding purchase in his sheets. You fist them, twisting them in your grip as you start to rock your hips and you have never - never - had this done to you before, a tremble pouring sweet and thick down your spine to pool right under his mouth. 

His hands keep your thighs forced open, his shoulders spreading you wider and when his tongue starts to swirl firm, tight circles over your clit, it drags a hoarse moan out of your throat. 

Too consumed to care if you’re being too loud, every thought leaves your head when two thick fingers stroke delicately along  the dip of your opening, before sliding inside you with a filling stretch just as he starts to suck . His whiskered cheeks hollow with it, your words breathless and pleading. A stretch just to take his fingers , you close your eyes and feel your stomach drop when you think about taking his cock.

The thought alone sends you flying over the edge. 

When it happens, he groans into you just as loud as if he’s the one who’s come, and a second wave washes hot over your limbs when you peek down to see the upper half of his face between your spread thighs. His brows pinched together, his eyes closed tight, his white knuckled hold on your thighs. 

The music turns up louder downstairs, a shout of a crowd greeting new arrivals – but it’s lost in the intimacy of the bedroom. His satisfied low groans, your trembling thighs, his damp beard against your skin.  

Pulling back, he wipes your slick from his face with his hand – and then gives your cunt a sharp, flat swat. 

The action shocks you, your eyes widening and the grin on his face is charmingly boyish. Or would be, if he didn’t follow it with a filthy suck of the fingers that were just inside you. He stands, shucking his jeans and briefs off in one movement, and puts a knee on the bed between your legs, reaching for the condom. His large hands rip it open, and though you can feel his gaze rest heavily on you as he puts it on, your eyes are fixed firmly on his cock. 

It’s – big. Much bigger than you’ve ever seen, a grown man’s dick. He fists it lazily for a moment, the weight of it evident in his grip and when he places the condom over the tip and rolls it down to the base, you openly stare. The translucent rubber fits snug and tight, down to the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. 

When you finally drag your eyes up to his face, he looks smug. 

“Don’t worry, darlin’. It’ll fit.”

The amount of times you’ve thought about this moment is nothing compared to the real thing. The man standing in front of you has always been off limits, a complete mystery to you all these years, even as the subject of most of your debased fantasies. The realness of him — the solid width of his frame, the flush to his skin, the amount of bare, firm skin on display. You swallow hard, a bundle of nervous anticipation even though he just fucked you with his mouth. 

He settles his body on top of you, caging you underneath him and the press of his hot skin has all of your nerves scattering, evaporating into need . 

His mouth rests right next to your ear, a kiss brushed against the divot below it. 

“We’ll make it,” he whispers. 

If you thought his fingers were a snug fit, it’s nothingcompared to how full you feel as he slides in. The stretch almost to the point of pain save for how wet he got you beforehand, it still steals the air from your lungs as he pushes inside. You squirm underneath him, shifting to accommodate every single inch and his hand curls around your waist, his hips pushing forward with a final, hard thrust. 

His mouth brushes tenderly along your clenched jaw, letting you get used to it before his hips find a rolling rhythm. Every downstroke shoving you up underneath his hold, you hold on tight, hitching your knees up along his ribs and your feet slide over his tailbone, a whine crawling out of your outstretched throat. 

“This little pussy is so tight ,” he groans, his hot breath gusting over your skin. “So fucking tight.”

His hand shoves itself under your tailbone, angling your hips to take him deeper and his own groan sounds deep over your softer, higher one. 

“Do you have any idea how much I thought about fuckin’ you? How many different ways I’ve wanted to?”

Hearing him utter those words makes your chest crack open, your heart thundering underneath your rib cage. Everything you’ve ever wanted to hear, paired with more than you ever thought you would. 

He picks up pace, his hips a relentless, heavy pound into the cradle of your own, each thrust punching the air out of you – and your fingers claw into his forearms when he sits back on his heels, pushing your knees to your chest to fuck you harder. 

The bed pounds lewdly against the wall, the music from the party covering it up. 

“Joel,” you whine, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye. It feels like you’re being used by him, your body a tool for his own pleasure, your pliant, moldable body being positioned just for his use. It sends you higher, thinking about him doing the same for others, right here in this bed. 

You start to tense underneath him, the wave of slick, brutal pleasure pulling you under and when you come, it’s a wordless, breathless thing – your body pulling taut, your cunt squeezing him tight. He groans, dropping forward to cover your mouth with his, his hand sliding up to wrap around the nape of your neck with a grip and he forces himself deeper, his strokes urgent in their snap against you. 

He rests his forehead against yours, and through the haze of your freshly fucked gaze, he recognizes the same look from before. A girl who never backs down, a girl who knows how to hold her own. 

“I already want it again, Joel,” you breathe against his mouth, his heavy pants washing over your lips. “Next time, I’m gonna ride you. I’m gonna sit on your lap and you can watch me take it, okay?”

“Fuck,” he groans, his hips stuttering. They chase the slick warmth of your cunt, his eyes closing tight. 

“You’re fuckin’ trouble, you know that?” he rasps, his fingers threading into the hair at your nape, fisting it with a tug. The motion tips your head back for him, a victorious grin stretching across your face. 

“A pain in my ass since I met you,” he pants, letting out a deep groan. “A sweet piece of ass in my bed.”

You nod, the smile on your face melting into something pleasure soaked when he shifts the angle of his hips. 

“I’m gonna come inside this little cunt, okay? And then I’m gonna do it all over again. You ready, honey?”

“God yes.”

He buries his face in the damp crook of your neck when he comes, he back rounding as his hips still in their push against yours. He’s so deep you know you’re going to feel it tomorrow – more than you’ve ever taken, a stretch you know will make you ache every time you sit down. He holds onto you so tight that you can barely breathe, and it’s a special sort of heaven to be buried underneath the bulk of his body. Your cheek pressed against his curls, your chest compressed under his. Your hips sore from being spread so wide, your cunt still snug around him. 

He lifts just enough to see you, and opens his mouth – right when something crashes beneath his room. 

“What the fuck , Tommy,” he grumbles, and you laugh at his instant change of expression. He slips out from inside you with a groan, his hips imperceptibly shifting forward to chase the heat between your thighs. He presses a quick, hard kiss against your lips and then he’s dragging himself from the bed, tugging the condom off and tying it in a neat knot. 

Tossing it in the trash next to his bed, he grabs his jeans off the floor. 

“I’m gonna go downstairs and see what the hell that was,” he says, sliding them up over his bare ass. Buttoning them, he shoots you a look. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ get dressed.”

You gesture a wordless salute, and he shakes his head, smiling. 

“Smartass,” he grumbles, picking a shirt up off the floor. Sliding it over his head, he opens the door and disappears. 

“Tommy!” 

You hear him shout and a laugh bubbles up from your chest. 

“What the fuck was that?”

Stretching out, you slide against the warm, rumpled sheets and listen to the familiar sound of their deep voices. For the first time since you’ve been back, you feel like you’re home. 

Pressing your face into his pillow, you take a deep breath – and grin. 

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine ex-husband Gojo doing things for his new love interests that you begged him for while you were married.

After a joint meeting between the sister schools, you overheard Suguru asking him who he was texting during the meeting.

Satoru replied, "Just letting my date know I'll be a bit late tonight since we ran long here. Todo can yap, huh?"

"Seriously!" Their voices faded as they walked down the hall.

You stood just outside the meeting room watching the corner the disappeared around. If you had to pinpoint the number one reason your marriage failed - more than clan pressure, more than the strain of being young parents, more than back to back to back missions - it would be the fact that Satoru can't communicate for shit.

Part of it wasn't his fault. His brain just didn't work like that. An inconvenient side effect of limitless is that everything makes sense in your head, but it's hard for a person with the gift to explain their thoughts to others.

So the no-call, no-shows to dinners was technically a side effect of limitless, as was his inability to articulate his feelings like an adult or the fact that he would just do things without even telling you there was a problem in the first place.

"Quit doing that with your face, brat." Sukuna emerges from the meeting room. He's out of his Ryomen form at the moment, as he usually is during meetings so that he can actually fit in his chair. "How long are you gonna let what he does affect you?"

"It doesn't!" you insist.

Sukuna rolls his eyes. "If that helps you sleep at night."

Imagine reminding yourself that you can't be mad at him.

You're seeing other people now, too. Hell, you've been divorced for over a decade, it's insanity that you care at all.

It's just. You never doubted his love for you. Not for a second, not even now that your marriage failed and you largely raised your son on your own.

"Mom?"

Maybe your divorce was his motivation to be better. You're not sure. But if he's capable of change, capable of being attentive and communicative, why couldn't he change for you all those years ago?

"Mom."

Could it be that you were his childhood companion and he loved you, but he was never in love with you? Was his love for you less than your love for him?

You hardly notice your son calling out to you until he springs into action. "Mom!" Sen nudges you away from the stove to turn of the burner. When did smoke fill the kitchen? The roux you were trying to make was burnt to a crisp, stuck to the pan and emanating an unpleasant smell.

Sen gently pries your hands off the handle and drops the ruined pan in the sink to soak. Then he makes sure the burner's off before turning to you with a conflicted expression.

He may have inherited a hybrid of both your and Satoru's personal brands of emotional stuntedness, but he could put two and two together between how distracted you've been and the rumors of Satoru dating again - What with it being huge news among jujutsu society (aka power hungry clans with eligible daughters.) Your son had his own complicated feelings regarding his father and as much as he'd prefer Satoru stay away from you, it hurt him to see you like this.

Though, watching you try to keep a stiff upper lip for his sake during the divorce is the reason he doesn't want his father anywhere near you.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." You wipe your hands on a dish towel. "I wasn't paying attention. Hang tight while I make you something else."

He could kill Satoru right now. But you wouldn't like that, so he won't.

"Mama, I--" He shuts his mouth. You've been protecting him from the details of the divorce his whole life. What did he know about comforting you? But while he may not have been able to protect you then, he can sure as hell try now.

"Mama, why don't I take you out to dinner? My treat."

Imagine that Sen decides he needs to stop having ideas.

He brought you to a local okonomiyaki that you've been going to since he was little to the point where the owners knew you well and liked to give you little extras from the kitchen. Today's treat was a side of pickled radish.

It was your happy little hideaway. Away from jujutsu and clans and curses and your broken home.

Sen insisted on cooking the okonomiyaki for you, saying that, "My treats means I'll take care of everything!" The weak smile you gave him made his heart soar.

You giggle while he jokes around and tells you about school like how Hikari fell asleep for 45 minutes out of an hour long test and still got a better score than him. Hearing about your son and his happy school days always made you feel better.

Sen was ready to give himself a pat on the back for cheering you up when he hears the front bell jungle and a woman's laughter carries over.

"Fancy places are like that, though!" the woman laughs. "They give a bite of food per plate."

Then a familiar voice replies, "Yeah, but it was good, wasn't it? And now we get to fill up at a cute place like this."

Even though he's the one facing the door and not you, the look on your face tells Sen all he needs to know. What breaks his heart is that you've sunk lower into your seat to make yourself smaller.

Sen could kill his father right now.

Hooray, angst!

Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[pathologicalreid]

an ode to a conversation stuck in your throat | s.r.

in which Spencer tries to talk you out of taking a job across the country

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: miscommunication (sigh), very cheesy, brief mention of wine, defining the relationship, insecure spencer, easily confused reader, chemist!reader word count: 1.04k a/n: if i could go a week without writing a dwg song fic that would be crazy. also surprise it's chemist!reader again.

"Thanks for stopping so I could change,” you say to Spencer, leading the way into your apartment and locking the door behind you. “I’m sure lab dress code and David Rossi dress code are miles apart,” you continue, hanging your backpack on the wall.

Spencer hums in response, “You’d look great in anything you wear.”

Your face warms at the compliment, “You’re sweet. You can just wait out here, I shouldn’t be more than a couple of minutes,” you gesture to the living room, smiling at him before heading off to your room.

Nervously, you pull off your lab-safe attire and discard all of it into the laundry hamper before putting on the dress you’d chosen for dinner tonight. It’s not overly fancy, but you hope his team will like it. You hope his team will like you.

Looking at yourself in your dresser mirror, you reconsider your choice of shoes, switching from a pair of kitten heels to flats before walking out the door, “Hey, Spence, is Rossi’s patio heated, or should I bring a sweater for when the sun goes down?” You stop in your tracks when you find Spencer, still in the entryway, looking at the color-coded whiteboard calendar you keep by your front door, “What’s up?”

His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his slacks, and he looks upset. What’s worse is you think he might be upset with you. “What’s this dinner you have planned next Friday?”

You feel like a child who’s been caught doing something they shouldn’t be, draping the proposed sweater over the back of a kitchen stool and crossing your arms in front of your stomach. “It’s a work dinner,” you answer nervously.

“With?” Spencer asks, but he’s not pushy about it, there’s something desperate in his tone.

Pursing your lips, you look at the purple writing on the calendar, “The chair of Biochemistry and Molecular Genetics at Northwestern, and a representative from the college's dean. They’re offering me a job with a private lab and my own team of researchers… so they’re taking me out to dinner.”

Spencer’s face fell, “They’re offering you a job in Chicago?”

“Well, that’s where Northwestern is. Evanston, if you want to get technical about it,” you respond, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

He looks at you dumbfoundedly, “I don’t want to get technical about it. When were you going to tell me that you’re taking a job in Chicago?” It almost seems like he’s afraid.

You raise your eyebrows in curiosity, you’ve been seeing each other for a month, and you’ve never known Spencer to jump to conclusions. “I’m not,” you tell him, keeping your tone void of any accusation, “They’re just taking me to dinner.”

Spencer sighs, “But they’re offering you a job. In a different state. In a different timezone.”

Admittedly, he was beginning to sound a bit ridiculous to you, “Don’t you field offers from colleges all the time? They want you to teach or tell you to become Spencer Reid, PhD, PhD, PhD, PhD, or whatever?” 

His eyes follow you as you move to sit down at the kitchen counter, “It never gets as far as dinner.”

“I’m not taking the job,” you tell him simply, shrugging your shoulders demurely.

Spencer falters at that, knitting his brows together as he tries to piece together the answers you’re willingly giving him, “If you’re not taking the job then why are you going to dinner with them?”

Hiding a small smile, you give him the truth, “They pick up the tab. I go to a lot of these and I get good food out of the deal. These people love to schmooze but I’ve never been offered anything that I would be inclined to accept.” This specific job seemed perfect on the surface, but they weren’t willing to let you choose what to research. That was non-negotiable for you.

“I could schmooze you,” he insists, “You don’t need other people to schmooze you.”

You giggle at him, waving him over to you so you can look him in the eyes when you tell him, “I go for free food and good wine. No other reason.” Your smile was gentle, but inside your heart was pounding. He was scared I was going to leave, you think to yourself.

He sighs, “Will you… will you tell me in the future when you get these dinner offers?” His voice is tentative, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll think he’s asking too much of you.

Nodding, you reach out and take one of his hands in yours, “I can, but I didn’t think were at the ‘I’m being courted by another workplace, and I wanted to let you know’ stage yet. That’s kind of a girlfriend thing,” you explain.  

Spencer frowns, “Aren’t you?”

Tilting your head to the side, you look at him curiously, “Aren’t I what?”

“My girlfriend,” he clarifies.

Your eyes go wide, “Oh! I didn’t think so, I thought you had to ask yet.” Although you’re far from a relationship expert, you’d had to ask your PhD advisee what to wear before your first date with Spencer.

The panicked look on his face returns, “I’ve been telling people you’re my girlfriend. Should I not have been doing that?”

Shaking your head, you beam up at him, “I don’t mind. I just thought you had to ask about that kind of thing.”

“I don’t know,” he admits, “I’ve never really done this before.”

The two of you sit in an awkward silence for a moment before you decide to speak up again, “So, just so we’re on the same page. I’m not moving to Chicago.”

Spencer frowns again, and you have to hold yourself back from using your thumb to smooth out the crease on his forehead, “Will you?”

Confused, you lean your head back, “Move to Chicago?”

“Be my girlfriend,” he amends quickly.

You nod, “I would love to.”  

“And just so we’re on the same page,” he ducks his head down, so close to a kiss that it makes you feel dizzy, “I like to think I’m the only one who can really court you.”

Laughing, you lean forward and peck his lips, “I would be insulted if you didn’t think that.”

[allforthegaymes]

Andrew sat in the fbi interrogation alongside Neil, stuck between trying to decide wether to keep his wary eyes on the agents sat across from them or to keep his eyes locked on Neil, as if he’ll disappear again if he loses sight of him at any point.

Instead he keeps a finger hooked around one of Neils belt loops and sets himself to memorizing every word out of Neils mouth, keeping a watch on the agents to make sure they dont make a sudden attempt to go back on their words.

Which means he gets the first hand sight of how other people would react to hearing about what Neil’s gone through. And while he’d accepted every word from Neils mouth without a facial reaction, watching how the agents react make him think maybe he shouldve.

(The whispered thanks from Neil afterwards about Andrew not looking at him differently changes his mind)

The only part that really makes him freeze is when Neil begins the talk of his mothers death. Andrews all too familiar with dead mothers in cars, but hearing about the gun wound, the vinyl seats sticking to a half burnt away body, the bone burial along the beach. Neil stutters only once during his recounts, where he slips and mentions the smell.

He compares it to the scent of cigarettes, used Andrew’s one marlboro reds as a reference and suddenly all those rooftop rendezvous together makes more sense.

Neils half smoked cigarettes, never stubbed out but left to continue burning on the concrete next to them while they sit and talk. The way he only does stub them out when talking about his parents, or when Andrew mentions something about his own mom, or when Andrew says anything about the earlier days with Aaron.

Neil stops talking for a moment after that. Lost in thought.

And as always, Andrew follows him half a step behind.

Neils adamant claims during their zombie apocalypse walks with Renee around the track that he would always burn their friends bodies to make sure they dont come back from the dead.

The way he always leaves the room when they watch the newest episode of that stupid viking show that Aaron and Kevin like to watch and theres a burning boat funeral.

The way he-

And then Neil starts talking to the fbi agents again and Andrew is forced to tune back in and tuck away those thoughts till later.

He tells them about what happened in Baltimore.

The torture from Lola. The dashboard lighter pressing seared wounds into his skin. Over the tattoo, scattered across his arms, the faint marks from where she tried to burn holes through his jeans to get to his thighs. Saved only half as well as they were by the fact he’d worn a pair of the carhartt work pants Andrew had bought for him and not a pair of the threadbare thrift store jeans he usually wore.

Andrew makes the mental note to stop using his own dashboard lighter to light the cigarettes he smokes in the car. And to swap cigarette brands. And to stop smoking in the car.

And then its about the trunk of the car, the way Lola had held onto him and the comments she made in the car, the basement, the offhanded mention about how Nathan was barefoot when he walked down the stairs.

The little details that only someone who’s truly grasping for any recollection in a traumatic moment would retain. The way even when Nathan was walking down to tear Neil limb from limb, Neil still couldnt bring himself to look at his fathers face. The face that Neil shares. The face Neil still avoids looking at when he walks past the mirror in the hall in Columbia.

And he thinks about the way Neil shied away from Wymack in the beginning, the way he now searches for Wymacks face whenever they get separated from their coach at away games.

The gun shots during the Hatford raid, the way even though Neil was bruised and battered he still found himself with a smile on his face when he saw Lola’s body get blasted apart by silenced guns.

The way he knew even if they got a proper funeral no one down there would get to have an open casket. The evidence in their bullet shattered bones that their bodies would never rest peacefully. That people in a thousand years would know from the unmarked graves and their remains that they deserved whatever ended them.

And then he claims it goes dark, he says it with the same way Neil lies about everything else, with his body forced relaxed to not twitch and give himself away, but he breathes a little heavier when he calmly tries to describe the way he came to and found himself being helped by the emergency services, feigning he doesnt know what theyre actually called, playing into the runaway kid sent on the road too young and not knowing completely how the world works still.

Andrew wishes he didnt know Neil well enough to know its only half real. Wishes he didnt know Mary probably only taught Neil how to recognize and run from EMT’s, and never actually explained what EMT was meant to stand for.

Andrew knows first hand how hard it is to gain sympathy from government officials, but Neil’s got them eating out of his hand with the way he words his story, their final nail in the coffin to take down the Wesninski trails in Baltimore and beyond.

Neil knows they need him and he knows how to play them to believe whatever story he deems they’re worthwhile to hear.

[planetxiao]

# HAPPINESS FOR TWO

𖤐 umemiya hajime ; suo hayato ; sakura haruka x reader

⟢ fluff, scenarios // when their friends realized you’re good for each other.

𖤐 UMEMIYA HAJIME

Damn it all.

Hiragi wasn’t sure how, but he managed to make it home without realizing he didn’t have his antacid tablets on him. He checked – double checked – each of his pockets, but alas, they were gone. He sighed. There was only one place he thought it could be: back on the rooftop of Furin High.

He wasn’t usually forgetful, but it had been a long day, he supposed. That unnecessarily big fight took a lot out of him. 

It was like any other day, another leader of a gang demanding to fight Umemiya, except this guy was too persistent about it. In fact, all of his men seemed to have been of one mind. In the end, Umemiya gave him the fight he wanted. Of course, the white haired Bofurin leader reigned victorious, but he didn’t leave the fight unscathed. No one did. That being said, everyone was fine; they just left with minor cuts, scrapes, and bruises.

A meeting on the rooftop was held after the fight, each captain and vice captain giving their report before leaving for the day. That was when he must’ve set them down.

Hiragi trudged all the way back to Furin High, stomach turning at the possibility of getting roped into Umemiya’s antics again – if he was still there, anyway. The sun was about to set, and all of that day’s teams were on their last patrol shift. 

He had half a mind to kick down the door in irritation, but he resigned to pushing it open.  With his hands stuffed in his pockets, Hiragi’s eyes peeled this way and that to look for the very guy whose mere mention gave him indigestion in the first place.

Left, clear. Right, clear. A breath of relief… let out too soon.

Hiragi took one step before freezing. Sat at the picnic table about 15 feet away was Umemiya and someone he recognized to be his partner. 

Hiragi had seen you a couple times before. You would come to bring Umemiya lunch from time to time, and he would show you all of the plants he was growing in return. He really didn’t know anything about you but your name, nor did he ever feel the need to know more than that.

That was probably his fifth time seeing you. You both straddled the bench, facing each other, with your legs pulled over Umemiya’s. His hands rested on your hips as you gently wiped a cotton pad over the scratches on his face. Umemiya gazed at you with eyes that held nothing but love in them and a smile so easily made, like that of a dreamer stuck within his fantasies.

“Hajime, how many times have I asked you to be careful?” You sighed.

He laughed bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck, “Sorry, Sorry! I tried, I really did!”

You applied a large bandage to the cut on Umemiya’s cheek, shaking your head lightly.

“I know. I just worry about you.”

“I know, my love,” He cupped your face, “But, it’s okay. I’m okay! You don’t need to worry, I’ll always come back to you, okay?”

It was almost picturesque, the way you melted together like chocolate under the setting sun. Your forehead rested against his while he interlocked his fingers with yours. Hiragi felt bad watching the scene unfold in front of his eyes.

You giggled, “That was so cheesy, you dork.”

“What?! I thought it was romantic!”

He would rather eat his own shoe than admit this to anyone, but Hiragi smiled at the sight of Umemiya holding his world in the palm of his hands. He seemed to have found his true other half, someone that understood and cared for him in the way Umemiya deserved.

The creak of the rooftop door closing was heard by both you and Umemiya, the only sign that Hiragi was ever there. 

He’d come back for those tablets later.

𖤐 SUO HAYATO

Shouts bellowed down the street, drawing a crowd. It’s not unnecessarily unusual for a fight to break out there, but the people of the town watch as if it was the first time. Onlookers lined the walls of the narrow street close to the action.

Sakura and Nirei had been walking to meet up with Suo on their day off. They agreed to meet outside of Kotoha’s cafe at noon, but Sakura and Nirei were running late. As for why, well, Nirei had to take the time to go all the way to Sakura’s apartment and wake him up because he had overslept. Let’s just say Nirei had a rather stressful morning.

The fast shuffling of feet caught Sakura’s attention. He quirked a brow, looking up from his shoes to see a group of people in the distance. Some of them had been sent flying back in different directions, piquing Sakura’s curiosity.

What the hell? There’s a fight right now?

The itch of annoyance Sakura felt from that morning had him rearing to go. Nirei gulped. However, a comment from one of the onlookers was what sent them running towards the crowd.

“Hey, isn’t that eyepatch guy from Bofurin?”

Suo was in it?

They pushed through the crowd to see for themselves. Sure enough, they recognized the tassel earrings whipping in the air before they could even see their friend’s face. From the look of it, there weren’t that many foes left, and he had someone fighting alongside him.

You and Suo were back to back, taking one guy after another. Your movements mirrored each other as if watching a master and student. While your actions were more limited and practiced, Suo’s refined moves looked purely instinctual. He drew in his opponents with a mere look and had them on their backs within seconds. It was a violent dance that you both had invited your foes to.

Sakura and Nirei watched in shock, seeing these men drop like flies. It was ridiculous, this wasn’t a fight. There was no struggle from both sides, only one.

There were only two left, and Suo seemed to sense foul play heading in your direction. The sun gleamed off the metal bat that reeled back in front of you. You gasped. You weren’t used to fighting against weapons. Hell, you weren’t even that used to fighting in general. The guy smirked, swinging as hard as he could. But, the path of the bat was abruptly stopped as Suo flew through the air, swiftly kicking the guy in the face. The metal bat hit the ground with a clang, the owner flying back into a wall before crumbling onto the ground.

Suo’s venomous gaze lingered for a second on the man who sought to hurt you, though another one charged at him from behind. You called out his name – a warning hot on your lips. Suo took notice of the impending presence, but before he could turn and deal with the person, the crisp sound of a fist connecting with skin rang in his ears. Suo looked back, seeing the guy unconscious on the ground with most likely a broken nose.

Cheers erupted in the street, praising Suo and his partner in taking down the brutes. Sakura stuffed his hands in his pockets with a huff, while Nirei beamed at the two of you.

“Wow! I wonder who that person is. Do you know, Sakura?”

“No idea.”

As Nirei was about to approach them, he watched Suo take your hand in his and examine your bleeding knuckles.

You laughed bashfully and shrugged, “I improvised.”

Suo smiled softly, raising his other hand to caress your burning cheek.

“You did well, my dear.”

Oh! Oh.

Nirei whipped his head back to Sakura, about to shout about how Suo had a secret romantic partner, but stopped when he saw Sakura’s wide eyed blush. When Nirei turned back around, he saw Suo leading you into Kotoha’s cafe with a hand on the small of your back. Your head nestled in the crook of his neck.

The blond couldn’t help the way his lips curled. He ran after the two, pulling out his small notebook. That was the first time he had seen you, but he could tell you were special to Suo and he to you. You two made one hell of a good team. A scary one, but good nonetheless.

He just hoped he and Sakura would never do anything to piss you off.

𖤐 SAKURA HARUKA

Nirei was pacing.

“Where could he be? He’s never disappeared for this long before. One day, sure. But three? Something’s wrong. I just know it.”

Suo placed a hand on Nirei’s shoulder, a friendly smile remaining on his face. He understood that Nirei worried about Sakura as much if not more than anyone else at Furin High, but biting his nails over the issue wasn’t going to fix it. Ever the voice of reason, Suo spoke calmly to his friend.

“Relax, Nire-kun. The last time Sakura was gone, he was sick in his home, right?”

Nirei looked up at Suo, concern furrowing his brow.

“That’s the thing. I checked his apartment yesterday and he wasn’t there.”

Suo hummed. An interesting turn of events. He doubted that Sakura would just up and disappear – he could’ve just been out when Nirei came around. There’s an explanation for everything, after all. Sakura’s strong, it’s not likely he was kidnapped or anything of the sort. He was probably just sick again. Even so, it wouldn’t be good if Sakura was ill and wandering around…

“I see. Then why don’t we check one more time?”

Nirei nodded and turned on his heel, making a bee-line out of the classroom with Suo following behind.

Nirei kept a brisk pace. He was always at least three steps ahead of Suo, who kept his normal pace. It was Suo’s second time coming up on the desolate complex. The scenery was less surprising this time around, but the tattered place was eerie all the same.

They knocked once, twice, thrice, receiving no answer each time. Suo’s hand grasped the knob, remembering how it was unlocked last time they came to check on Sakura, and turned it. The door opened with a ghostly creak, no sign of life anywhere in the room. Suo called for Sakura. Still no answer.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Suo murmured, deja vu creeping over him.

Nirei followed. Suo slid the door to the main room open and was greeted by nothing, Sakura’s futon rolled away haphazardly in the corner. Not even his uniform hung where it was last time. Nirei began to wring his hands. Where the hell could Sakura have gone?

“Huh, he’s still not here,” Suo wondered aloud before turning to his worried friend, “Have you tried asking his partner if they’ve seen him?”

“No, I don’t have any way to contact them.”

The brown haired boy had an inkling that he knew where Sakura might be.

That was how they wound up on your doorstep after the sun had set. They had seen you quite a few times, even coming with Sakura to see you once or twice. Sakura had told them each time not to come, but of course his friends were curious about his partner. Suo would insist, while Nirei would just follow.

Like earlier, they knocked on the door and awaited a response. If he wasn’t here, Nirei was going to lose his mind.

The knob turned. Nirei didn’t waste a second.

“Hello, sorry for the bother, but have you seen-”

A hand covered his mouth, surprising him. When he looked up at you with wide eyes, you simply held your finger over your mouth, signaling him to keep quiet. Suo peered through the door behind you and understood.

Surrounded by various medicine bottles and a tissue box laid Sakura, sound asleep. His monochromatic hair splayed in different directions, twirled together in some spots like yin and yang. Nirei and Suo could see his reddened nose and cheeks from where they stood at the door. All tell tale signs of Suo’s confirmed suspicion. Taking one last peek, Suo and Nirei chuckled at Sakura’s sleeping form, a trickle of drool peeking from the corner of his ajar mouth.

You stepped outside with the two boys, closing the door behind you.

“Sorry Nirei, I didn’t want him to wake up. What’s going on?”

“Has Sakura been here for the past three days?” Nirei asked.

You nodded.

“He started feeling sick while he was here a couple days ago, so I’ve been taking care of him. He’s doing better though, his fever finally broke just before you came actually. Should be up and moving by tomorrow.”

Nirei breathed a sigh of relief. Sakura was fine, he could finally relax his tense shoulders. Suo’s usual kind smile melted into something softer after hearing your explanation. An unspoken thought was shared between the two boys as they glanced at each other. The heavy feeling of deja vu had dissipated because something was different this time.

Thank god Sakura has you.

note: i’m actually pretty happy with how these turned out :D also in suo’s, if not implied well, he taught you those moves :3 i hope their characterizations are all okay!!

[peachesofteal]

18+ dubcon

Simon Riley who grits his teeth and attends grief support meetings at the “not so much of” request by his captain.

He hates it. Hates sitting around and listening to the these people whine and cry, hates watching them lament their losses. It’s uncomfortable. Makes his skin itch.

He knows grief. Has swallowed a full throat of it over and over again. He’s well equipped to handle it now, knows enough to know how to process the loss of Johnny.

He drags himself every week when he’s home. He’s figuring out a way to get Price off his back, slowly but surely, faking the progress, crushing the darkness under the heel of his boot. He returns to it only when he’s alone.

He hates the meetings.

Until he doesn’t.

The first meeting he attends after he’s back from an op, you’re there. Beautiful, a flower in a field of decay, petals falling to ash. A new face, set in stone, trying not to break. You make it thirty minutes before the first tear falls. And then another, and another.

You’re even prettier when you cry. He wants to know your tears taste like, study them streaking down your cheeks. You’d cry for him too, cry and cry as he twisted your pain into pleasure, battered your body and then kissed it better. Bullied his way inside you and held your throat as you came on his dick.

Tears. He’d taste them. Make them his.

Give you something to cry about.

When it’s your turn to speak, your voice trembles. You smother a lump in your throat, fingers knotted together like they’re stuck in a trap. Your grief is a balm to his own, stitches to a wound, something filling the gaping hole he pretends doesn’t exist.

It’s your husband. He made you a widow, shortly after you were married.

Selfish prick.

The softness makes his mouth water. Soft mouth, soft eyes, soft heart. Soft and sweet, little lamb all alone.

Who’ll watch out for you now?

They serve coffee after these things. Awkward moments full of misery and stilted conversation, time ticking away until everyone clears.

You keep your eyes down, tucked away, averting your gaze to avoid all of the small talk, making a break for it as quick as your legs will carry you.

Which is fine, he’s got a long stride.

You’re painfully unaware. It almost hurts him, almost, if it didn’t work in his benefit. He’ll need to address that.

He bides his time until you’re asleep. Casually slips the lock free and steps inside, takes inventory. No dog, weak locks, blinds open. He mutters a curse under his breath. Guess he’ll be fixing that too.

In your sleep, you’re restless. Grieving in the dark, eyes shuddering behind fluttering lashes and closed lids. Your sounds are sad, distressed. Heartbroken. They make him hard. Sends blood pumping through his body until it rings in his ears. Would you cry like that on his cock?

He unbuckles his pants, barely making a sound, tugging himself from his briefs, fat, full length falling out, too heavy to be held up.

Your lower lip trembles with a deep sigh and you shiver, adding fuel to the fire, and he squeezes himself, stroking faster, tears on your cheeks hollowing him out and pushing him closer and closer to his peak, the point of no return.

“Little crybaby,” he murmurs when you whimper again, toes curling in his boots. He can’t stave it off anymore, fire igniting in his belly, spurting all over your feet, the sheets, your ankles.

It will be dry by the time you wake, but it won’t matter. He’s marked you now. You’re his.

[jubshead]

𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐦

Paring: Agatha Harkness x Reader | Platonic Nicholas & Reader

Summary: Nickie’s mom has got it going on.

A/N: This is the biggest thing I’ve written so far and I hope you guys like it!

This fanfiction is inspired by the song Stacy’s mom. There are a lot of references to the lyrics and the clip, so let me now which ones do you guys catch!

OH AND if you guys click on the clothe I’m describing, a link will take you to the image a had in my mind while writing.

This isn’t beta read and english isn’t my mother language, so bear with me.

Warning: Smut, (18+) age difference, (brief) mommy kink, fingering.

Word count: 8.1k

Date: Oct 29, 2024

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome!

Masterlist

Tag list: @nyoclosmom @stayevildarling @sasheemo @thefutureisus2020 @harknessshi (sorry for tagging you guys again, I’m making a few adjustments)

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

Being back in your hometown feels weird, the feeling of seeing people stuck in time and unsatisfied with their life always gives you a turn on the stomach. You’d rarely come up here after your family moved a few years ago, the main reason for visiting was your bestfriend Nicholas, but more times than not he was the one who traveled to spend time with you. Your city was so much better in multiple senses, especially now that you live at the college dorm. 

As you didn’t have any relatives in town, you inevitably stayed at Nickie’s house. This time though, you felt like an intruder. Your friend commented on his parents’ recent divorce and how tension had been high for a while in their house before the separation. 

During the years you’ve known Nicholas, you hardly ever saw his parents, they were always on some kind of work trip and left Nicholas to be the host of the house when you were there. Weirder, though, was the fact that they were never together. From what your friend had told you, they traveled at the same time, but to completely different places. Apparently they were both on the enterprise business, you weren’t really sure of what. 

You’d cross paths with Mr. Scratch a couple of times, but you hadn't seen his mother since moving away as a child, you just remember her imposing presence and the overwhelming crush you used to have on her. 

Your friend had mentioned that she would be home this time. She hadn’t taken a vacation in years, but the separation seemed to bring calmness to her and she was trying to spend more time with her son, at least that’s what he told you, and it wasn’t like she needed to work overtime for money, they were rolling in it. 

You shyly roll your suitcase into the house’s pathway, anxiety eats you away and you hope that the person who greets you is your friend. It would feel awkward enough having Mrs. Harkness around the house while you were there, you didn’t want to re meet her after such a long time without Nicholas as a bridge. 

Letting out a breath when you see your friend’s smile, you jump into his arms, barely giving him time to catch you. His forearms circle your waist and lift your feet off the ground, shaking you left and right like a ragdoll. You huff and hear the sound of your bag hitting the ground after colliding with your foot. 

“Okay, okay. That’s enough.” You playfully pat him on his back and wait for him to settle back down. 

“Excuse me for being excited to meet my friend, who I haven't seen in over a year, 'cause she’s too preoccupied with her studies.” He uses your own words to mock you.

“Well…I’m here now, aren’t I?” Your shrug and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Come on, be useful for once and help me with my bag.” You walk past him and leave your suitcase at the door. 

“I forgot how insufferable you are.” He complains loud and clear, you turn back around in time to catch the smile in his face and stick out your tongue. 

“You know you love it!” 

“I might.” He mumbles under his breath and you ignore him, turning back around and going up the stairs. 

Your relationship with Nickie has always been light and playful, he was like the little brother you never had and you allowed yourself to act childish in his presence. He reminded you of your childhood in this town and running across the street with the other kids. So, when he’d drop hints of something else, you’d just brush it off. 

“Same room as always?” Your head peaks through the top of the stairs and you stare down at him as he struggles with your bag. 

“Actually, no. My mom is remodeling that one into a massage room.” You raise an eyebrow and he shrugs. “You can stay at the end of the corridor. It’s a little further from my room, but I’m sure you won’t mind.” He settles the suitcase at the top of the stairs and leads you in the direction you’re not accustomed to. 

“I sure don’t.” You assure him. “But I do wanna know where’s the illustrious Mrs. Harkness.” He lets out a chuckle at your nervous joke. 

“She went out to run some errands, but said she’d be back soon and bring us pizza for dinner.” He stops at the end of the corridor. At the front wall there’s a door and on its side another one. He opens up the one on the right. “Like I said, my mom is remodeling some stuff, so this is the closest room we have available on this floor. This door is her bedroom.” He points to the other entry and you try not to react. It would be fine. 

“Okay!” You exclaim and enter the enclosed space. The place was very similar to the one you were accustomed to, the only difference was spatially. 

It had a window, wardrobe, bed and bathroom like all the others you had visited at the residence, but this one was faced to the back of the house. A big window opened up to the backyard and you could see the glistening pool water reflecting the orange light of the sun set. Facing the window was the bed and, on its left side, the bathroom. 

Falling backwards, you bounce on the mattress and cover your eyes with the back of your elbow, all the adrenaline of the trip seems to leave your body at once. 

Your friend throws your bag by your side. “What the fuck did you bring? It feels like there’s 20 bricks in here.” 

“Stuff.” You reply passively, not moving a muscle.

He scoffs at you. “Okay, I can clearly tell you’re tired from your flight, so I’ll let you take a shower, put your ‘stuff’ away and I’ll call you when my mom arrives with our food. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, thank you!” You answer him gracefully and only take your arm away from your face when you hear the door close softly. 

Lazily you sit up on the comfortable surface, open up your suitcase and search for your shower essentials. You feel clammy and stinky after spending a few hours at the airport and on the plane, so a bath is the first thing on your mind. 

Finding a towel and adjusting the temperature is easy enough and in a few minutes you’re under the water pressure, tiredness mixes with anxiety and you slump against the wall. 

You feel an overwhelming excitement at seeing Nichola’s mother and while it feels like meeting your boyfriend’s mom, it is also a completely different feeling. You don’t care if she thinks you are good enough for her son, especially since you don’t have that kind of relationship with your friend, but you wanted it, craved even, that she liked you. 

Yeah, your childhood crush hadn’t passed.

You try not to let your thoughts eat you away by focusing on your routine and relaxing into the warm water. 

When you’re done, you get out of the shower and wrap yourself up in a towel. Brushing your wet hair, you look out of the window, the day passed and with it the sunlight. You hope your hair will dry before bed. 

You hear a soft knock and your friend’s voice. “Can I come in?”

“Gimme a second!” You scream back and hurriedly search your bag, grab a big shirt and pajama shorts. “Yes, come on in.” 

Your friend pokes his head into the room and stares at you. You must be quite a sight from the way his eyes rank over your body. Your hair is dripping, wetting your shirt, there’s a brush in your cream slicked hands and your shorts are hardly poking out from the shirt’s waistband. You don’t understand the appeal. 

“Yes, what is it?” You drawl out, taking him out of his trance. 

“Mom is home, brought us pizza.” He beams at you. “I told her you like pepperoni.” 

“And you are right as always, my friend.” You tell him in the worst southern accent someone has ever heard. 

He chuckles and you throw the brush on top of the bed, grab the towel to clean your hands and follow him out of the room. 

All your anxiety comes back as you go down the stairs, the smell of pizza fills the air and you hear movement in the kitchen. Entering the cooking area, you spot her right away. 

“Mom.” Nickie calls by your side. 

When she turns around, you feel trapped in a movie. It would be one of those scenes where a character is introduced and turns around in slow motion, with some random song in the back.

You try very hard not to gape at her. She is wearing a light brown loose suit accompanied by a white dress shirt underneath, her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and on her feet you see expensive pointy black heels. Her hair is dark and matches her gold jewelry, she aged so well you feel like you’re one point away from falling to your knees in front of her.  

She opens up the biggest smile upon seeing you. 

“Oh hun, come here! Let me take a look at you.” She motions her hands towards herself and you timidly step into her arms. 

She places her hands on your forearms and slowly runs her eyes over your figure. You squirm under her intense gaze and uncomfortably think about your choice of clothes. You should have dressed up, she looks so elegant. 

She lets out a hum deep in her throat and you feel like a bug caught in a spider’s web when she looks into your eyes and smirks. 

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, dear. Nicholas spoke highly of you, but I must say his words don’t do you justice.” 

“Yeah? Wait until she opens her mouth.” Your friend says by your side and you shove him slightly. 

Agatha laughs at your antics and winks at you when you look back at her, making you blush. 

“Let's eat, shall we?” She claps her hands and brings them close to her chest, turns around and grabs the carbon box. 

Nicholas leads you into the dining table and you sit in front of him, on the left side of the head of the table, where Agatha settles down. You were starving, eating was the next thing on your mind after a shower and now that you are clean, you can enjoy the meal. Politely, you wait until Nicholas takes a slice and offers it to you, nodding eagerly, you extend your plate in his direction. 

You dive in and barely listen to the conversation they are having, that is, until you hear your name. 

“Yes?” You swallow hurriedly and feel the piece burning your throat as it slides down. 

“I was asking how college has been treating you, hun.” You gulp down the soda in front of you to smooth the pain. You are pleasantly surprised she knows something about you and is interested enough to ask.

“Oh, it’s been great! I really enjoy the course and the professors. It’s also a bonus that I moved out of my parents’ house.” You answer her excitedly. 

“I bet you are taking full advantage of that, right dear?” She says with a playful smile and scrunch in her face, before sipping her glass of wine. 

“Mom!” Nicholas exclaims by her side and you let out a nervous chuckle at the joke.

“I’m just kidding, honey.” She winks at him and waves her hands in the air in a dismissal movement. 

“I sure am, Mrs. Harkness.” You return the jab and she turns to look deep into your eyes, her mouth slowly grows into a grin. 

Distantly you hear your friend clean his throat and mumble “I didn’t need to know about that.” 

You slowly let go of her intense gaze to turn into your friend’s direction. 

“Don’t be a baby.” You throw your napkin across the table and he huffles in response.

After that, dinner doesn't last long. You patiently wait for Nicholas to finish what must be his fifth slice, before getting up and unspokenly offering yourself to clean up the dishes by grabbing the plates.  

You feel a light touch on your arm. “You don’t have to do that, dear. You must be tired from your flight, Nicholas will clean up for us.”

“I really don’t mind, Mrs. Harkness.” You feel her hand run lightly up to your elbow and you hold in your shudder. 

“Well, I insist.” Looking in your friend’s direction, he gives you a small smile and a nod. “And call me Agatha, hun.” 

Rapidly blinking, you turn to face her and are met with a smile. 

“Okay, humm…” Gently setting down the plates, you feel her hand slip from your arm. 

You hesitate and Mrs. Harkness encourages you. “Go on.” 

“Goodnight, then.” You practically run out of the room, stopping to glance back at them and give an awkward smile.

As much as you’d like to protest, Agatha is right. With a full belly, you feel your energy drain, your eyelids become heavy and you can only think about the big warm bed waiting for you. 

The worry of being a bad guest slips from your mind as soon as your head hits the pillow. 

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

The detergent runs down your hands and into the drain. 

The window in front of the sink gives you a full view of the house’s backyard. The midday sun shines down into the grass, the pool glistens invitingly and a light breeze blows away a stuffy day.

Your night was uneventful, exhaustion seemed to take the best out of you and you woke up practically at lunch time. This time, though, you insisted on washing the dishes and wouldn’t take ‘no’ as an answer. 

You got carried away by your task a while ago and now your hands move in their own accord. The idea of spending a day under the sun brings a renewed energy into your body and you practically vibrate in anticipation. It’s been a while since you’ve been to a pool or the beach.  

You startled when your friend jumps to sit on the counter next to you.

“Jesus, Nicholas!” You exclaim loudly, stopping your sopped hand midway and preventing a wet shirt. 

He gives you a boyish smile and says. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.” You murmur out. 

One second away from articulating your thoughts and suggesting your idea, you are interrupted by your friend.

“Should we spend the day outside?” He says and you look at him with big eyes and a wide grin. 

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” You exclaim. “I’m almost done here. You can go upstairs and change already.” 

“Okay, bossy.” He playfully jabs while hopping out of the counter. On his way out of the kitchen he tells you. “I’m going to ask my mom if she wants to join us.” 

Your whole body freezes. The image of Mrs. Harkness wearing only a bikini comes into your mind and leaves you lightheaded, when you look back at him, he’s already gone. Fuck. 

You rapidly finish the dishes and dry your hand on a towel, run upstairs into your room and close the door softly. 

Placing your suitcase in the bed, you sort through your clothes in an attempt to find your best bikini. Sprawling everything around and leaving a mess behind, you try to breathe and be reasonable. She wouldn’t be looking at you in the same way that you would look at her, there is no reason to be worried. Yeah, right. Just because she wasn't attracted to you didn't mean you didn't want her approval.

Pulling out your favorite red bikini, you let out a small commemorative sound. The two-piece consisted of a top adjustable sideways and held by two strings that made a bow on your nape. The bottom was very similar in style, the front covered you up and was held by little bows on the side that lead to a thong. 

You change into it and look at yourself in the mirror. The color complemented your skin tone and the shape matched your body type. You repeat to yourself: there is no need to be worried. 

Easier said than done. 

You distract yourself by going into the bathroom and grabbing the sunscreen, the last thing you needed was to overthink and start biting your nails. 

As you leave the bedroom, you follow the sound of someone in the kitchen and find Nicholas eating some kind of fruit. 

His back is turned and you take a moment to really look at him. He was tall and defined, with a boyish light nature that seemed to make life easier. His light brown hair matches his father’s, but, other than that, he was Agatha though and though. Just as attractive as her and definitely broke as many hearts as his mother did. Maybe in another life things would be different between you two. 

You shudder at the thought. Definitely not this one, though. 

You approach him and grab a strawberry, barely registering his gaze appreciating your body as you lean into the counter and try to casually ask. 

“What did your mother say?” You take a bite of the berry.

It takes a hot minute for him to take his eyes off of you and respond. “Said she’s happy to join us. She’s changing, but told us to go ahead if we want to.” 

“Let's go then!” You exclaim and rapidly grab your friend and the bowl of fruit. 

You open the glass door and a light breeze invades the house, you don’t stop to appreciate it. Afraid of fainting if you saw Nickie’s mother only in a bikini, you struggle to get into the pool before she comes down. 

Placing your towel and the sunscreen in one of the chairs, you ignore your friend sitting next to you and move into the pool stair. 

“Why are you acting crazy?” He asks with a frown while you step down into the water. 

“I’m not.” You reply and he lets out a hum. Fuck him for seeing right through your bullshit. “I’m just excited, that’s all.” 

You dive in. The pool is in the perfect temperature for the hotness of the day. It was mostly covered by the shadows of the trees, so, for now, you don’t have to worry about sunscreen. 

Resurfacing and pulling your body into the pool’s edge, you throw a bit of water into your friend and say. 

“Aren’t you coming in?” He nods and you add. “Bring the strawberries with you.” 

Resting your head in the water, you let your body float freely. Your hearing is muffled and you take a moment to breathe in the space and relax. Having Nickie’s mom around was making you more anxious than you were prepared for. 

You look up into the bright blue sky and observe the clouds. The day was so beautiful and your need for praise and validation was quickly increasing. There was nothing wrong with having a crush, but if it was affecting you this much, you needed to let it go for a while. 

Your arms flow by your side and you clean your mind.

Time seems to stop in this position and you feel your body ease up for the first time since your friend told you his mother would be around. You hear a commotion outside of the pool and remain with your eyes closed, enjoying the empty pool before Nicholas jumps in and disturbs your peace. 

That doesn’t last long. A few seconds later you feel drops of water splashing on your face. You look up from between wet lashes to find Nicholas with his feet partially inside the water and his mother by his side. He had been calling you. 

“Yeah?” Wiping the excessive water from your face, you stand up.

“Would you mind sharing your sunscreen?” He asks you. 

“Of course not.” You reply and change focus.

His mother looks even better than you’d imagine, if that’s even possible. She’s wearing a black two-piece and from afar you can see the lace covering the fabric. It fits her body perfectly, the top is similar to yours, but it isn’t sideways adjustable. The bottom, though, is very different, where your bikini is thin and revealing, hers has thick strands and you can see that it covers her butt a lot more than yours do. You were right in assuming you’d faint if you saw her outside of the pool. The image makes you dizzy.

“Enjoying the water, hun?” She tracks your body with her eyes and licks her lips. 

You follow the action and it takes a noticeable second for your brain to process the question.

“Yes, I am, Mrs…Agatha.” You correct yourself and blush, from the slip up and the delay. Your face gets even hotter when she smirks and you realize you’ve been caught staring at her. 

You just can’t help yourself. She sits down and spreads sunscreen on herself. This woman is a goddess you’d pray for until the day you die. Her belly is straight and defined, her boobs are small and compliment her body perfectly. When she turns around, asking Nicholas to help reach her back, you blatantly look at her ass. It was round and perky. You feel like a pervert, but that doesn’t change the fact that you wish it was you spreading sunscreen on her back.

God, if you had seen her anywhere else, you’d never guess she was more than 45 and had a son. 

She catches you staring for a second time and winks at you. You dive back into the water to hide your red cheeks.  

The afternoon runs smoothly. Nicholas joins you in the pool and you try to distract yourself by playing with him. If took a peak or two at his mother bathing in the sun, who could blame you?

It's around 4pm when your friend decides to go inside and grab more fruits. You had devoured the strawberries a long time ago and were now starving after splashing, fighting and swimming with him like a kid. The day had turned out as great as you had expected it to be. 

You rest your tired head against the edge and hear a faint sound. You feel Agatha walk behind you, all the way to the pool ladder and fight against opening your eyes to stare at her backside. 

It is the first time she joins you on the water and you hear Nicholas from inside in the kitchen. Your thoughts run free and as relaxed as you are, you get distracted by the image conjured up in your head of your friend picking up fruits and washing them. 

You get slightly startled when you feel a hand running through your hair ends. Opening your eyes, you breathe in and try not to take a step back. Somehow, in your relaxed state, Agatha has crept up on you and is now standing a foot away. Her eyes are focused on the way her fingers twiddle your tips and in this proximity, you feel how hot her body is from soaking in the sun all day. 

“I was trying to remember you as a kid.” She starts and looks up into your eyes. “You were the one with the pigtails, right?”

“Yeah.” You let out a laugh as you remember your signature hairstyle back then and add a nervous joke. “I’m all grown up now, though.” 

“Yes, I can see that.” She replies slowly, her gaze drifting to your breasts. 

Her hand leaves your hair and descends through the water until you feel a faint touch of fingers in your waist. She smirks, closing up the space between you two. The top of her bikini brushes against yours and pressed against the pool’s edge and her body, you panic when you hear the glass door open behind you. 

She laughs at your wide eyes and dips her head into the water. Thanking all the heavens and architects that built this house, you turn around in time to see Nicholas rounding the corner. 

“There you go.” He sits on the floor next to your sprawled arms and places the bowl in front of your face. 

Feeling your heartbeat on your throat, you shove a grape on your mouth to calm yourself down. 

“I think you should put on some sunscreen now. Your cheeks are really red.” You cough and blush even more, he runs his thumb through your face and you try not to flinch at the image he could have walked on. 

“I was actually about to get out and stay under the sun for a while, so I’ll definitely do that.” You push yourself out of the water and feel eyes on your backside as you place your knees on the floor before getting up. Like mother, like son.

“Aw, you are getting out already?” He asks you with pleading eyes and you ignore him as you place yourself in one of the chairs.

“Already? I’ve been in there for hours. Look at my fingers.” You raise your palm up to show the wrinkled digits.

“You do look like an old mop.” He tells you with a side smile, you can only roll your eyes and let out a sarcastic laugh. “Come on! My mom just got in, we can’t leave her inside the water by herself.” 

“Oh no, I’m not staying.” You both turn to look in her direction. “I just wanted to dip in to cool down. Grab me a towel, will you?” She tells her son with a flourish of hands. 

He picks one from the pile while she steps up the pool stairs. You close your eyes, it wouldn’t be good to stare at your friend's mother in his presence. 

They exchange a few words and Agatha goes inside. Nicholas sits by your side and relaxes into the lounge, mimicking your facing up position. The bowl is placed between you two and from time to time you brush your hands against his when grabbing a berry. 

The sun shines down and your body heats up. The droplets of water evaporate and you avoid thinking about your little moment in the pool, you had promised yourself you would stop getting anxious around the house. What if Nichola’s mother may or may not be interested in you? That doesn’t change anything. 

Yeah, right.

God, if Nicholas found out about this crush he’d be heartbroken. It’s been clear for a while that he has feelings for you that aren’t reciprocated.

He doesn't even know you are a lesbian.

“Tell me again, when will your classes start?” You ask and remain in the same position. A plan to let him down gently already formed in your mind.

“Same as yours.” He replies without looking at you. 

You hum. “Are you excited for college?” 

“I honestly am, which is unexpected.” He holds the conversation and you both remain with your eyes closed.

“Yeah.” You let out a small chuckle. “For a few years there I thought you had given up on the idea.” 

“I had. I was thinking of taking over my parents' company.”

“Oh yes, I forgot you are a nepo baby.” You interrupt him and snort when you feel a towel landing on your face.

“As I was saying. I might still do that, but I shouldn’t run the business just because I’m their son. I want the knowledge to back me up.” He looks into your eyes and you give him a small genuine smile.

“Well, I think that’s very mature of you. I’m sure moving out of your mother’s house will help you decide what you want.” Sometimes you forget the 2 year difference between you two. 

“Yeah.” He replies and pauses before adding. “Sorry about my mom’s comment yesterday.”

You frown and take a while to remember what he was talking about. The dormitory innuendo.

“It’s fine really, she’s right.” You laugh.

“She is?” He looks at you with big puppy eyes and you brace yourself for the blow.

“Yes. My roommate is cool about it and, more times than not, she thinks the girls I bring in are only friends.” You try to respond to it conversationally.

You look into his eyes and wait for a reaction, his brain doesn’t automatically catch up and he stares at you like you had grown a second head. As soon as it dawns on him you watch in slow motion as his eyes grow abnormally wide and his mouth hangs open. You were more worried about his feelings than a rejection, you know he’d never hurt you intentionally. 

“Oh.” He lets out in a breath. 

He seems to be stuck  in place as he takes in the information, so you decide to move for both of you. Grabbing a towel, you place yourself on your feet and get up from the chair. Stretching your arms up and letting out a small groan, you turn in his direction. 

Out of curiosity, you take a second to look at the house and search for your room’s window. It doesn’t take long to find, it’s the second last to the left and by its side a balcony leads to a spaced bedroom. Squinting your eyes against the sun, you try following the movement you see inside. It takes a while, but your eyes settle against the difference in clarity and you almost fall over. 

Your brain catches up with the fact that Agatha’s room is next to yours a little late and inside the space you observe as she slowly unties her bikini with her back turned to you. She passes her head through the top knot and stretches her head from one side to another, before smoothing her finger through the indents caused by the bikini. You register your friend calling you and answer without taking your eyes off of her.

“Yeah?” You hum and add. “I’m gonna go take a shower.” 

You start walking without waiting for a response. You can’t take your eyes off of the scene being displayed in front of you, wishing she would turn a little more in your direction. When she starts removing the bottom, you feel the ground under your feet evaporating. 

Literally.

One second you are walking along the pool’s edge and the next one you feel the breath leave your body as you collide hard against the ground. Your head swims and your left side hurts like a bitch, with your attention somewhere else you forgot the pool floor was wet and slipped on it, hitting your back and hip. 

You faintly hear your friend getting up and have difficulty breathing through the pain, the world seems to twirl in front of your eyes and at the back of your mind you hear Mrs. Harkness calling out for her son. 

“Did you hit your head?” Nicholas casts a shadow on you as he crouches down to inspect the situation. 

Your only response is a groan. 

Embarrassment doesn’t even cross your mind, the pain radiates all the way from your ass to your left shoulder and leaves you thoughtless. The only thing you can concentrate on is trying to help your lungs do their work. 

“Can you get up?” Your friend tries again. 

“Give me a second, will you?” You wheeze out. 

“She’s fine!” He turns his back and shouts. 

Dropping your head in the direction he’s facing, you see his mother’s face full of concern as she leans over the balcony with a towel on. 

Your friend helps you up and you put all your weight on him as you hop into the house.

You throw yourself in one of the kitchen’s chair and your friend grabs a cup of water and pain medication, unspokenly offering to you. 

Nicholas helps you all the way upstairs and into your room. When he leaves, you rapidly get under the water stream and wash out all the chlorine sticking to your body before exhaustion leaves you infunctional. 

Out of the shower, you take a moment to look at your back in the mirror, purple spots are already forming and you just know you’ll be sore for days.

You throw yourself in bed and immediately pass out, wet hair and naked. A day in the pool has drained all your energy and the medication seems to knock you out completely. 

Even as tired as you are, your sleep in conturbed. You turn around and rumble your bed, trying to find a comfortable position for your throbbing left side. 

When you wake up, you are completely disoriented, night has fallen over and your room is pitch black, the only light comes from the moon as your open window curtain is blown away by a light breeze. You search around in the dark for your phone, the bright light shines in your eyes and you squint to look at the time: 1AM. You throw your head back and groan, you had fucked up your sleep schedule and everyone else was probably already asleep. 

The feeling of an empty stomach gives you enough energy to get up and move to the kitchen. Ignoring the main light, you turn on a few lamps and lighter illuminations around the house, creating a cozy environment. You find a white box on top of the balcony and pop a pill into your hand, swallowing it down with a cup of cold water. The effect of the medication had passed during your afternoon nap. 

Opening up the fridge, you find the leftovers of last night's pizza. You settle in the counter and eat it straight from the box, don't even bother heating it up. You shove up three slices and, in the meantime, decide to watch a movie. Throwing the empty box on the trash, you go into the television room and settle yourself laying sideways, your right side resting against the sofa. 

You hear a faint sound of steps coming from upstairs and ignore it. Someone must be going to the bathroom. Deciding on a random channel, you relax into the couch, the ambience and light sound from the television helping with your pain. 

The medication must be really strong, because you doze off once more. You open your eyes slowly and take a second to realize what has woken you up. Someone’s fingers are brushing through your hair lightly and a voice calls out your name. 

Your vision settles on the image of your friend’s mother sitting by your side. She’s wearing a long black robe, its pattern has a mixture of purple and green and her hair is resting mainly on her right shoulder. You thank the darkness for hiding the blush covering your cheeks as she looks down at you and asks. 

“How are you feeling, hun?” 

“Better. I just took another pill.” You whisper.  

“Do you mind if I take a look at your back?” Her fingers move from your hair and settle themselves lightly in your left rib. 

You shake your head and lay more into the sofa. A shiver runs down your body as she slides the thin material of your silk pajama blouse and brushes her hands through, what you assume, is the purple blooming on your skin.  

“Oh.” She lets out. 

“Is it that bad?” You ask, already knowing the answer. 

“Yes, but I’ve got just the stuff for it.” She tells you and gets up, disappearing into the house. 

You frown at her ways and focus on the television while waiting. Nicholas was probably asleep and wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow, being alone with his mom made you nervous beyond words, especially after earlier. You had no idea if she was only pushing your buttons, because she noticed you had a crush on her or if she was actually interested. 

The teasing made the thoughts of her having been with a woman cross your mind again. You could imagine, she traveled a lot, her husband was never around and she didn’t seem to have an interest in him anymore. It would be so easy for her to fall in bed with a woman on one of her trips.

You hear her bare feet walk into the living room and look up to catch a smile on her face.

“Come one, turn over for me.” Her choice of words makes you obey without a second thought. 

You cross your arms in front of your face and rest your forehead against them. You feel her presence behind you. Your back is turned to her and this time she doesn’t ask for permission before lifting up your shirt. Her nails run through your skin, following the movement.

“Nicholas has probably mentioned to you that I’m turning the upstairs room into a massage space.” You hear the lid of a bottle opening, before feeling something cold against your back. “Actually, dear. You should remove this.” She grabs your pajama top and you lift your head without a word.

Your bare breasts rests against the cushions and your head swirls. 

She hums before spreading the lubricant around, it brings a nice sensation to your heating skin. Inspecting the damage, she concentrates the oil mainly on your left side. 

Her movements are light until they aren’t, she puts pressure at the purple spots and you groan, pain blooming from your back and making you arch your chest into the couch, trying to avoid her feeling. She holds onto your waist to stop the motion, her hands are slick and placed much lower than normally appropriated. 

“Come on, this will be good for you.” She whispers close to your ear and her hair tickles your back. 

Like a child waiting for praise, you relax into her touch.

She continues the torturous massage and you can only let out painful moans that seem to sputter her on. Her fingers focus firstly on your shoulders, the reason for removing the shirt apparent now as her fingers circle around the muscle and ease up the tension. This part doesn’t hurt as much and you’re able to appreciate it when her fingers work on the tired knots. The tension starts leaving your body and from time to time you let out timid groans of appreciation.

The oil heats up against your back and her hands press down into your ribs. Her hands circle your body and her thumbs work hard on liberating the coagulated blood under the skin. The burning sensation brought by the lubrication helps with the pain and the way she aggressively grabs onto you leaves traces behind, you feel your hard nipples brushing against the sofa. 

“Oh, honey. This is worse than I thought.” She tells you as her hands cascade into the worst part. 

You fell ass first and most of the impact has been on the area. She runs her digits on the lower side of your back, brushing from time to time against the thin material covering your bottom. This part is more painful, but you face it up like a big girl. The bone causes a harder surface and she incessantly moves. You hiss through clenched teeth and pray she will be over soon. The pain is worse than in the other parts and the massage seems to stretch for an absurd amount of time, in agony you can’t even appreciate the fact that Agatha Harkness has her hands on you. 

She finally stops and you relax into the couch. The silence hangs around you and you wait for her to get up and go back to sleep.

“Do you mind if I take this off?” She asks, stretching the waistband of your shorts before letting it go. 

You blink rapidly and freeze. The question catches you off guard and you don’t have an automatic reaction. 

“I’m not wearing underwear.” You whisper shyly. 

“Not a problem, hun.” Somehow you can hear the grin on her voice. 

Before you can move, she’s already running the fabric down your legs. Changing your body’s weight into your forearms, you help her by lifting your behind. 

“Wait. Stay like this.” Your brain short circuits at the demand. 

You are practically doggie style and your naked center is squeezed by your thigh in a pitiful attempt to hide it from her. You feel her moving behind you before placing a pillow under your hip.

“There we go. Are you comfortable?” She asks you without reservations. 

You inspect the position you’re in. A large bolster props your uncovered ass up, your back is partially arched, following the weight deposited in your arms. Your hair is in a bun and your skin is covered in oil. Your nipples are hard rock and your breasts are begging for attention. You feel wetness in your lower lips. 

Biting your lips, you nod.

“Great.” She lightly claps behind you.

You feel the couch dip by your side and tense up as she straddles the upturned side of your legs. Her thighs are pressed against yours and her weight doesn’t bother you. You estimate your ass is leveled with her ribs. If she got on her knees, she could be fucking you from behind. 

Oh god, honestly the worst thought you could have when your cunt is practically in her face. 

Her body shifts as she picks up the bottle on the table, a light texture is poured on top of your rear and you feel it run down your legs. She places the bottle back down and grabs a fistfull of your ass, you let out an involuntary moan and hear a malicious chuckle behind you.

“Enjoying yourself?” She teases you.

Your cheeks heat up at the joke and you don’t respond, your voice seems to have escaped you. 

Her hands wander around and squeeze, you have the vague impression that she’s feeling you up instead of actually doing a massage. The palpation worsens your current aroused situation and you try to close your legs as much as possible without her notice. She focuses all of her attention where the purple is mostly concentrated, her fingers are firm and direct, this time though, the pain mixes with pleasure and you grab hard into the sofa in an attempt to hide your needy moans. Her hands graze your center a few times and everytime it happens, you buck into it. 

You feel like a bitch in heat. 

The wetness between your legs seems to gather unstoppable and you are barely able to contain your sounds. You’ve never felt this aroused in your life. 

You faintly register Agatha calling out for you. 

“Yes?” You hoarsely let out, previously unnoticed drools run down your chin and your eyes are shut closed. 

“You are making a mess of my hand, hun.” You blush so furiously a salmon would be jealous of you. 

You register the wetness of your center sticking in your thighs and joining the oil she was using. You are left speechless for what feels like the 100th time in her presence. Her hands move up through the outside of your legs before harshly grabbing your hip and bringing it close to her own center. She leans over the curve of your back to whisper in your ear.

“Let mommy take care of you.”

You moan aloud at the name.

You feel her breath ghost against your cheek as she laughs at you. Her nails run down your ass and brush your center, ignoring it. You knew in your state it wouldn’t take much for you to come, but, unfortunately for you, Agatha’s number 1 hobby seemed to be teasing.

She pulls back and focuses her attention on your backside, while her white acrylics run from your knees all the way up, her mouth works on scratching her teeth through your right ass cheek. 

Her palm carefully grope your purple spot and you let out a small yelp at the harsh bite she delivers on your good cheek. She kisses it better and shows the same light appreciation to your hurt side. 

Her lips leave your skin as she manhandles you. The grip on your hip pushes your ass higher and you rise up on your elbows. If you were playing about having your center in her face before, you definitely weren’t laughing now. 

“Oh, dear. You are drenched.” On her knees, she parts your folds with her fingers and you lean against her. She runs her digits down and easily finds you clit, pressing it lightly and causing a restrained whine to escape you. 

“Don’t do that. I want to hear all your pretty sounds.” She tells you in an almost sing-song voice, but you know she's not asking. 

Obeying as she applies more pressure, you let out a free moan. Your face burns and you pant against the couch’s armrest. The oil on your skin seems to be some kind of special brand as it burns you up, your nape feels sticky as sweat starts to leave your body and you can’t focus on anything else besides the pleasure Agatha is giving you. 

Your head swims when you feel her digits run up your slit and enter you. She pauses inside and you thrust back, whining from the delay. She seems to find amusement in your torture and laughs before slowly moving her digits. 

She takes pleasure in watching you bend yourself to chase her finger and holds into your waist to contain part of your harsh movement. She teases you by letting her finger plunge in the slowest motion possible. 

Even with the leisure pace you feel your pleasure building brick by brick. It’s a new sensation to have your orgasm sluggish reach you and, as good as it feels, it’s also not nearly enough to drive you over the edge. You moan, whine and trash against the sofa.

“Agatha, please!” That’s just about what your brain is able to formulate in your aroused muffled head. 

“Such a pretty girl using her words.” The praise only seems to worsen your condition and you let out a frustrated cry at the light way her fingers keep moving. 

The sound has an effect, though. She applies pressure and curls her fingers, hitting just the right spot to make you sob. She sets a forceful rhythm by using her hips as leverage, enough to make you hit your head against the couch headboard and hold onto it for dear life. 

Your moans come out uncontrollably and you barely register, you could be screaming at the top of your lungs and you wouldn’t know. The pleasure comes in waves, your back undulates against her firm grip and your nails scratch at the fabric under your fingers. It’s so much and not enough at the same time. You try to voice your thoughts, but only a groan leaves your mouth.  

“Yes, I know.” She smoothes you and gently takes your hair from your face, contrasting her other actions.

She does seem to know, because a few seconds later her hand joins the other one in your center, her movement is continuous and it takes a second for her to find your clit. When she touches it and applies pressure your vision turns black. You’d be worried about your temporary blindness if the circular motions on your clit, coupled up with her finger hitting the perfect spot inside you and her nails leaving a delicious stinging behind, hadn’t made you double over as your climax finally hit you. 

You’re sure this is the longest time you’ve spent coming in your life. The waves seem to crash into another as Agatha keeps entering you and drawing out the pleasure. Her pace doesn’t slow down and when you think it’ll be over it starts for a second time. Your head in thoughtless, you had literally been fucked stupid and was pretty sure that somewhere your mind couldn’t reach, you heard yourself moaning like a bitch. 

After what felt like minutes, your body completely slumps down into the couch. Your breath is coming out in harsh puffs and you don’t even feel the pain of the fall anymore. Someone brushes fingers through your scalp and you look up to catch Agatha’s dirty smile. 

Her robe is rumpled and open, you barely have time to appreciatively run your eyes down her naked figure before hearing. 

“Mom?” 

Fuck. 

[xxsabitoxx]

Baby Me

Satoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff and nothing else.

A/N: too much is going on in the Gojo realm, both in the anime currently and the manga, so let’s take a minute to forget and ease the pain with some soft Toru~

Word count: 1.2k

His body is aching, every atom that makes up his being is begging for sleep. But that won’t stop Satoru from showering, not wanting to dirty your shared bed with his sweat. Or even worse, wake you up cause he smells of sweat and blood. So, Satoru drags his half-awake body through your shared apartment, stumbling into the bathroom unceremoniously and turning on the hot water. He was swaying on his feet by the time he got his ruined uniform off and into the hamper, eyes barely open as he stepped into the steam filled shower. 

Satoru wasn’t even sure how long he had stood under the current, blood and dirt running off of his body in rivets. It stuck out harshly against the white tiles of the shower floor, not that he could really care at that moment. He’d just feel bad if you had to clean it up in the morning. It wasn’t until someone’s presence entered the bathroom that Satoru snapped out of his daze just a bit. He would have noticed them sooner, but his guard was always down when it came to you. “Toru? Why didn’t you wake me up?” You mumble softly, shedding your clothing with the intention of getting in with him. 

“It’s nearly three in the morning, baby. You need your sleep.” Groggy and full of exhaustion, it made your heart ache a bit. “Nonsense, let me help you clean up.” Satoru smiled a bit, grimacing as even that proved to be a bit of a tiring task. “You’re too kind to me.” But you merely hushed him, stepping under the hot water and reaching for a loofa and his favourite soap. “I love you, Toru. There is no such thing as being too kind with you.” You dumped a generous amount of soap into the white loofa before sticking it under the water again. “Now let me wash you.” 

There were things far more intimate than sex, Satoru didn’t realize that until he started dating you. Moments like this, for example, where you so tenderly scrubbed his skin clean of every impurity he had. Standing naked together under the hot water, in the early hours of the morning, as if you were the only two people on earth. Satoru craved these moments just as much as he craved you. “None of this blood is your own.” You laughed softly, placing a kiss on his spine now it was clean. “I’d hope.” Was all he could muster, nearly falling asleep where he stood because your touch was so tender.

You laughed softly before placing another kiss, trailing them down his spine until you reached the base. Satoru shivered at the feeling, your hand holding his hip as you told him to turn around. He did as you asked, giving you a lazy smile as you began to scrub the front of his body with the loofa. “I’ll shampoo your hair next.” He simply nodded, eyes shutting as he let the hot water run down his back. You were careful as you moved, alternating pressure depending on what part of him you were scrubbing. You knew he was rather ticklish so you’d be more careful when scrubbing his abdomen. But you also knew he enjoyed the way the loofa felt on his sore arms when you scrubbed a little harder. 

Satoru could go on for hours about how he didn’t think he deserved this treatment. He couldn’t even begin to understand how he had gotten so lucky, fighting curses all night just to come home to his beautiful girlfriend would be enough. And yet, you pull yourself out of bed regardless of the hour and shower with him. You scrub his body until he is clean, wash his hair until his shoulders go slack from the feeling, dry him off with a fluffy towel and shower him in kisses. 

He wasn’t sure what he had done in a past life to get this lucky, but he thanked the stars every night for giving you to him. 

“You’re going to fall asleep while standing.” You set the loofa down, all finished after scrubbing his body clean. All Satoru did was hum in response, bending down to press his forehead into your shoulder. “Let me scrub your hair and then we can dry off and go to bed, my big, strong boy.” You teased as his arms wrapped around your middle, hugging you tight. “Toru~ let me wash your hair and we’ll be done.” He only hugged you tighter, with a sigh, you reached around him the best you could to grab his shampoo bottle. Still, he didn’t let go. 

You squeezed some of the contents on top of his head, laughing as he whined about it being cold before you started to massage the contents in. You smiled a little harder when he moved his head from your shoulder to nuzzle into your neck instead. At his height, you couldn’t understand how the position was even comfortable. Still, you scrubbed until his hair was full of sudsy bubbles. “Time to rinse.” You cooed softly, as if he was a small child. Reluctantly, Satoru straightened. With eyes still closed, he leaned back and rinsed his head. 

You took that time to quickly wash yourself, thankful you had put your hair up before getting in with him. “M’kay bub, time to get out.” His eyes opened a bit for that, nose scrunching at the use of “bub”, you found it cute. Within seconds the water was turned off and the steam began to subside, both of you stepping into the lights Satoru now deemed to be “too bright”. You babied him, wrapping him in a warm towel while you used another to ruffle his hair dry. Satoru gave a half hearted attempt to wrap you in a towel as well, but the man had begun to sway on his feet yet again, eyes fully closed as you dragged him out of the bathroom. 

“C’mon, lover boy, let’s get you dressed.” You giggled, watching his nose scrunch again but his eyes didn’t open. Satoru moved past you, dropping the towel and flopping onto the mattress. His groan of relief nearly shook the whole apartment. “Alright, clothes are a morning problem.” You concluded for him, dropping your own towel to crawl into bed beside him. You barely adjusted on the mattress before Satoru was moving to wrap you in a tight bear hug. “Cuddle me.” was all he said before promptly passing out, leaving you a bit surprised when his infinity didn’t immediately push you away.

“Huh… that's new.” 

Then again, you weren’t used to Satoru falling asleep before you. Perhaps he had learned of a way to keep it off while he slept, or maybe he had figured out a way to have it encompass both of you. Regardless, you couldn’t be bothered to dwell on the matter. You were quickly remembering that it was past three in the morning, your exhaustion was creeping up on you quickly. Now that Satoru was home and safe in your bed, you could sleep much easier. You moved the best you could in his embrace, throwing your leg over his hip and resting a hand on his side before giving up on getting any more wiggle room. “Night, Toru~” you sigh, melting into his arms. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Jason has cuteness aggression.

Anything that you do is cute as fuck to him and all he wants to do is squeeze the fuck out of you in his strong arms, but has to restrain himself from doing so because he doesn’t want to genuinely hurt you.

He’s just so full of love that he doesn’t know what to do with it other then spend all his time with you doing your own thing, even though everything within him is screaming at him to reach out and squish your cheeks together, all the while smothering your face in a abundance of kisses for doing absolutely nothing because that’s how badly in love he is.

Jason just didn’t want to scare you off in how he loves because it could be quite suffocating or too much, but as long as you communicate to him that his love wasn’t suffocating or too much then expect it to quickly be apart of your daily routine, then again it’s not like you’re complaining because an affectionate Jason is an adorable Jason.

So you’d happily just sit there and allow him to hold your face between his hands and kiss you senselessly for just simply existing.

‘Why. Are. You. So. Fucking. Cute.’ Jason would say between planting kisses on your lips, forehead and nose.

‘I’m not even doing anything other than sit here.’ You chuckled, smiling widely at feeling of his lips against your skin.

‘Not a valid enough response.’ Jason replies as he continues his barrage of affection.

‘But it’s true!’ You exclaimed as Jason enough you into his arms and squeezed you tightly as though you were a plush toy. You cuddled into him and rested your head on his chest, finding this side of Jason to be sweet and beautiful as himself. ‘Then why are you the most precious person in my life Hmmm?’ Jason asked rhetorically, burying his face into your head, tightening his grip on you. ‘Then why is it that I would do anything you’d ask without a second thought?’

‘Because we’re together?’ You said, faking ignorance as you wanted nothing more to hear him say it.

‘It’s because I love you chipmunk.’ Jason murmured as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, knowing that even if he did manage to show you all the love he had within him, he’d only find even more love underneath all that to give to you.

[PLATONIC ONLY] Damian Wayne claims that he hates being your friend.

But if that was the case then why is it that he goes out of his way to make sure that you were comfortable and treated with respect when he brings you over to the Wayne Manor; Something he’s never gone out of his way to do for anyone besides maybe Jon Kent, but that’s neither here nor there.

Then why was it that when he first introduce you to Titus as a sign of trust, the Great Dane didn’t waste a second in wanting to get to know you with how often he would impatiently nudge you with his head, whine and howl until you gave him head rubs and or cuddles. Damian on the other hand acted as though he was embarrassed by this, but was secretly happy that you and his dog got along as it meant a lot for Damian if Titus instantaneously likes you, he trusts Titus judgment as he believes that dogs were great judges of characters.

Then why was it that when you showed genuine signs of struggle, he was the first person to notice and help you with whatever you were having troubles with as best he could. Damian knew that he would be considered the last person people who go to for help and for obvious reasons, but when it was you Damian wanted to be your first choice, your first option out of everyone; If you get stuck then you might as well get stuck together, even tough he’s intelligent in his own right, he’s not prone to not knowing the answer to something.

It happens to everyone and you have to remind him in those moments that he’s imperfect human, not a weapon. He needs reminding of that now and then in all honesty.

Damian won’t out right call you his friend but he will show it without even knowing he’s even doing it until someone -maybe one of his brothers, mainly Grayson- points it out to him.

‘Is your friend coming over today?’ Grayson would ask.

‘They’re not my friend.’ Damian answered bitterly.

‘Then why are you clearing a space for them.’ Grayson then points out and that’s when Damian stops to realise what he was doing, scowling as he crossed his arms. ‘Tt. That’s none of your concern Grayson I just like to keep my living spaces clean and easily maintained.’ Graysons smile grew as he leant against the doorframe. ‘Oh really? That’s the only reason you’re doing this?’

‘Yes.’ Damian replied, adamant with his answer.

Grayson shrugs and raises his hands in surrender. ‘Okay, if that’s what going on then I guess I’ll leave you be then.’

‘That would be much appreciated Grayson, I still have much to do before y/n’s arrival-‘ Damian once again stopped upon realising what he was insinuating and looked towards Grayson who looked like the cat who caught the canary. ‘Not a word to anyone.’ Damian threatens as he points a finger at his older brother.

‘I didn’t hear a thing.’ Grayson said but as he walked into the hallway only to scream, ‘DAMIAN IS CLEARING UP HIS ROOM FOR HIS FRIEND! JASON YOU OWE ME MONEY! I WON THE BET!’

In the distance Jason could be heard cursing Dick out for cheating somehow.

Damian gritted his teeth but he knew he can’t hunt Dick down for sport just yet, you were arriving in ten minutes and he still had some work to do until then.

Dick has an obsession with you resting your head on his shoulder or on his back, followed by your arms holding onto his waist for dear life.

He lives for it and gets embarrassingly excited whenever you do it to the point that it’s obvious that he was expecting something every time you came home. Dick just likes the idea that despite how exhausted you might be, you still go out of your way to drag your feet across the room and rest your head on his shoulder as you whispered a greeting into his skin.

He enjoys this so much that if you ever dare to forget to do so, he’ll pout and silently watch you as you moved about the apartment expectantly. If after five minutes you still don’t do the thing then Dick will show you his back and sigh dramatically until you’re forced to take notice.

‘What’s wrong pretty bird?’ You asked wearily.

‘Nothing.’ He replies.

‘Dick you’re huffing and sighing every five seconds, somethings wrong.’ You said, getting up to move towards him before resting your head on his back and throwing your arms over his waist. ‘So tell me what’s wrong so that we can talk about it and get through it together.’ You murmur and you felt Dick relax as he rested his hands over your own.

‘There’s no need to talk about anything because you’re already doing the thing that I’ve been waiting for you to do since you got in.’ Dick answered and you couldn’t help but laugh at this while tightening your hold on his waist. ‘This? Seriously?’ You asked.

‘Yep.’ Confirmed Dick as he moved himself so that he could properly hold you against him. ‘Just this and only this.’ He adds softly and you had no reason to argue with him over something that brought him comfort and reassurance.

‘Okay, I’ll remember to do this a lot more, just for you.’ You promised, kissing his shoulder.

‘I’ll hold you to that promise sweetie.’ Dick says as he rested his head atop of yours, closing his eyes as he basked in your closeness and allowed himself to breathe and be in the moment with you.

Because that’s all he wanted, to live in the moment with you.

[pearlzier]

────⠀ ⠀AT THE FAIRGROUND w/ SOLDIER BOY.

NOTES .ᐣ idea came from the loveliest @sl33pylilbunny :3 this is SO cute i love it so much ohmygosh. used a jellycat cause i love em n want one really bad.

"i'll win y'every single thing in this damn place if it'll get you to stop whinin' 'bout it," ben grumbles as he stares down the plush toy stuck within its glass enclosure. it's taunting him, taunting you. those beady black eyes.. it knows exactly what it's doing. and ben'll be damned if he loses to a fucking teddy bear with a pumpkin for a body. he'd beat countless of threats before—a teddy bear was nothing. and besides, you'd been giving the thing the softest, most adoring googly eyes from the moment you'd seen it. which was approximately.. almost an hour ago.

the staring was fine, sure, but the moment you started begging him to win it for you, for a good ten minutes? yeah, he has to get it over and done with, he realised. after the fifth, "ben, please, it's half teddy bear half pumpkin," he'd been practically sprinting across the fairground to make it to the infamous claw machine holding your future plush toy hostage. that toy would be yours, he'd make sure of it. it has to be.

he also wanted to prove the stories wrong, the ones saying that the claw machine was 'unbeatable' or that it took only luck to win it. he's soldier boy, for fuck's sake. "which one you want again, sweetheart?" he sighed, scratching the back of his neck momentarily. ben knew exactly what you wanted but he wanted to see the twinkle in your eyes when you mentioned it.

your brows raise skeptically for a minute when he asks, but a soft smile settles on your lips. "that one right there," you hum, "teddy bear, pumpkin body, it's literally perfect, oh my god," ben just watches you for a minute, a scoff escaping him. though the corners of his lips flit up at the sight of you and he sighs, "yeah, yeah, i got it. just watch 'n' learn." he gestured for you to step back a little bit, so he could work his magic.

honestly? anyone else looking on would've been so confused to see a guy like ben winning a stuffed toy. or at a fairground in the first place. he'd been totally reluctant, actually—it's not exactly his kind of fun but it is yours. he was wrapped around your finger wholeheartedly, he'd do every damn thing you asked him to. even if he wouldn't admit it, even if it was a little embarrassing for him. so dragging him to the fairground wasn't difficult at all when it came down to it.

and he had to admit, it was pretty cool here. it's halloween themed, with all the trimmings—haunted house, kids in cute costumes, the music. it almost makes him nostalgic, in a way. going on the rides was a lot of fun too, seeing the way you screamed and shriek when the two of you went on the drop tower was so much fucking fun.

"stop being a pussy—! holy fucking shit, this is it, it's over—"

what he didn't want to admit was the way he was also screaming and shrieking everytime the gondola got dropped. despite how he denied it, those photos you'd gotten on the way out completely corroborate your statement and destroyed his. those'd be perfect for your wallet, you knew. and y'know what'd be even better for like, your life, just, in general? that teddy bear.

"people say these things are rigged," ben starts, rubbing his hands together as if that's summoning the power he needs to beat the machine.

you stare at the back of his head for a moment, a skeptical sound escaping you. an interesting take from ben, sure, but everyone knows he has a lot of those. "is that not because they literally are rigged?" your words are amused, and you full on laugh when he pins you with that unamused look of his own. "just saying," your shoulders shrug, a smile playing on your lips at the sight of him.

"gotta have faith, baby," he tells you, deciding not to actually address what you'd said in favour of channeling any and all energy towards winning you the toy. "with all this strength o'mine it's gonna work," ben murmurs, holding onto the joystick like it owes him money. you won't be surprised if it does end up owing him money considering the odds of a claw machine like this one.

if he didn't manage to win the teddy bear, you wouldn't mind all that much. sure, you wanted it, but at the same time, the dedication that ben had to do it for you would've been enough. but also, you knew you wouldn't be leaving that damn machine without a pumpkin teddy bear in your hands. "you see, it's all in the technique."

"technique, huh?" you muse, moving a little closer to stand beside him and watch for a moment, hands moving into the pockets of your jacket. well, his jacket. you'd taken it since it was warm and smelt exactly like his cologne. "yeah, technique," ben nods, completely serious, not an ounce of sarcasm in his tone compared to yours. "told y'to watch 'n' learn, so watch 'n' learn," he cleared his throat, before his brow furrowed in concentration.

your watching and learning soon became watch and learn how to get narrowly close to being banned from a fairground. you're pretty sure the amount of profanities that came out of ben over the past.. probably ten minutes is enough to get the two of you thrown out considering how many children are nearby. might get a record for the most mothers covering their childrens' ears at this rate.

"ben, it's okay, i can just buy one off the websi—"

"you're getting this fucking bear tonight, darlin'," everytime you'd tried to convince him it was okay, that you guys could go get burgers and fries and call it a day, he told you that the two of you wouldn't be moving from there. "almost got it.. almost.." his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, as he inserted another coin into the machine. this time the joystick actually owed him money. and the thirty other times, but that didn't matter now.

you zone out a little bit now, assuming this'd be like the aformentioned thirty other times, where he'd spewed out obscenities, then proceeded to shove another coin into the machine like nothing had happened prior. ben had assured you this was his 'method' and everything was happening according to plan. he'd never exactly been great at planning, but there you were.

"i told you!" that snaps you out of your thoughts, and much to your surprise, when you look up, there's a teddy bear with a pumpkin for a body in ben's hands. he's beaming like an idiot, so proud of himself even if he'd been acting previously like he wasn't even breaking a sweat. he wipes his forehead, some sweat having accumulated from how hard he was working. a little concerning, considering it was a pretty cold day, but.. the dedication.

"oh my god, ben!" you're practically squealing, looking between him and the teddy bear back and forth rapidly before you find yourself wrapping your arms around the two of them. subtly tucking the toy by his armpit, he eases his arms around you in return. a smug smile settles on his lips, his head cocking to the side momentarily to get a full look of you so happy and clinging to his figure.

"just doin' what i gotta do, y'know," ben shrugs, his free hand cradling the back of your head gently. the two of you were completely blocking the claw machine from anyone else, some kid standing there awkwardly since he wanted to use it, but he decided you two were having a bit of a moment so he thought maybe the haunted house was a better choice. "you uh.. really like that thing, huh?"

"like you a lot more, actually," you mumble, grasping at his face and drawing him closer so you can peck your lips to his own. his eyes widen for a minute, and before he gets the chance to melt in more, you pull back. he pouts, glancing around a minute. it made sense, yeah, this is a fairground, but still. can't leave a guy hanging like that. he sighs, "had me workin' real hard there. think the least a guy can get is some good food, right?"

you hummed for a moment in mock thought. as if you were gonna say no and make him win another plush toy. he quite literally would've lost his mind if you'd asked him to. luckily, you nodded, "okay, yeah. burgers?" you offer too, head tilting.

"and fries, can't forget 'em," he murmured, nodding his head in return. before he walked with you to the food stands, he reached for the teddy bear and pushed it into your hands gently. a soft smile played on his lips, "yeah, now we're ready. c'mon, m'fuckin' starvin'."

ִ ֹ ★ @blue-d, @dayzeandhaze, @gibson-g1rl, @stevelacylovebot, @psychicnatural, @funkycoloured, @lovesickgrlsrh0t, @soldierboycunt, @hrtsoldierboy, @beetlejenna, @venusiers, @v3nusasagrl, @imwetforyourmom, @pr3ttyf4wn, @pillwebb, @beridollie, @sincerebabydoll, @angelicjackles, @sweetrelieef, @deansbite, @morganwrites12672, @chevroletdean, @fallbhind ִ ꒱

[sweetnans]

Stuck in the moment || Bakugo, K. (pt.4)

Pairing: fuckboy Bakugo/hopelessly romantic fem. reader

Trope: Enemies/friends to lovers.

summary: You made a mistake, a huge mistake. You fucked the most cocky, annoying, bastard, fuckboy you knew. Bakugo Katsuki. And that fact was against all your beliefs. Now, after the rumor (truth) spread like a pandemic virus in college you'll have to live with the stormy consequences of your acts and whatever trash was brought with it.

a/c: Hey, it's me again. Here we are in a new series I plan to continue. I really hope you enjoy it. I put my favorite man in action (bakugo) being a selfish bastard that you would love eventually and I couldn't help to put another "trope" I'm a sucker for (guardian/father figure Aizawa) I'm so sorry if that bothers you. Once again, I'm sorry if I misspelled something, English is not my first language. (Not proofread yet)

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3♡ -> Pt.5

m.list

Is there anything better than privacy?

Nope.

Bakugo had a room for his own. His roommate bailed from college right after the first class. He had an awakening about his future or something like that he had said before taking all his clothes and leaving. Bakugo felt some sort of relief that lasted...ten minutes? His friends used to invade his space quiet often. When he came to his room after seeing your flirting with Todoroki (from afar according to him), Kirishima and Sero were there talking about a game. They noticed in an instant that something was happening to his friend. He had his usual scowl on his face, but his brows were knitted together. A bad omen.

"Hey dude, what's up with that face?" Seemed like Sero was the one who grew a pair overnight.

Bakugo only grunted on his way to the closet. He needed to change his clothes to go to the stupid party you were attending. He made sure of that.

What if he sees you with Todoroki? Was it going to make his stupid stomach churn again?

"Hey man, we were talking about the party," Kirishima said, gaining part of his attention. "We were thinking about staying here, playing games, drinking our secret stash-"

"Fuck no" he didn't even stutter.

The reaction from Bakugo set an alarm to both of his friends. They knew about how casanova Bakugo could be, but he never, ever, showed that much, the fact that they were almost certain, after what happened with you just a week ago, that his friend's response was going to be a solid yes.

"Why so eager?" Sero asked.

"I just need the distraction," Bakugo shrugged while picking and searching the proper outfit.

He was vane most of the time, but he never took more than five minutes to choose a plain shirt and baggy jeans. Kirishima knew very well what was going on.

"Sero, why don't you go knock Mina's door and tell her about the change of plans"

Kirishima tried to be subtle. Man, he tried. Fortunately, Bakugo was so busy trying to decide between a white shirt and a black shirt that he didn't notice the exchange of looks that his friends were doing right under his nose.

"Sure," Sero winked to Kirishima and left the room.

Kirishima didn't know how to address the topic. His friend would definitely deny it, and they would be doing a full circle with yes and no that would end up in Bakugo just answering with noises.

Bakugo couldn't stop touching the fabric of his clothes. Was it too soft? Was it too white? What if there was a theme he didn't know about?

"You're panicking." Kirishima crossed his arms while leaning on his desk chair. He wouldn't lie, the scene was comical to witness. "You know you can talk to me"

The friendship between the two of them was something that most people didn't understand. Kirishima was always smiling, talking to everyone and telling jokes, while Bakugo, well, he had a permanent scowl on his face, rarely showed any other emotion than bored superiority and the only events that people saw him interacting with other people was with only one purpose, to state that he was better than everybody else. He was considered a private man and someone who had a police tape that said, do not cross.

"I don't know what's happening to me," he said, exposing his heart. He wasn't going to start naming or counting details. It was implicit, and Kirishima understood very well.

"You know what, man, you need to clear your head a little. This week had been rough. What about a beer pong to drain some stress off?"

Bakugo nodded to himself without even glancing at his friend. He needed a distraction, and he was almost sure that a party was a good place to find it.

...

"I can't believe that you, the queen of punctuality, is late" Jirou was losing it with you, the fact that you left her on read after she sent that demanding text and that you were also taking your time on getting ready.

"I'm sorry, Aizawa asked me to feed his cat, and you know how she is"

Blaming your non-biological dad was the ultimate movement in your pocket, so gen z of you.

"Oh yeah, Denki told me about the rizz in your training class. How did it go?" She asked you while picking her nails looking uninterested but you caught her side glancing you.

You slid your black leather skirt on your legs and shrugged.

"Well, you can see the burn marks on my legs here," you pointed above your left knee. "And here," you pointed your right mid thigh.

"Ugh, did you put something on it? That's gonna leave a nasty scar, " you denied, shaking your head.

She was right, but you didn't have anything to tend the wound.

"Does it hurt?" She asked this time, getting close to your leg.

"Yeah it does, like a motherfucker" you giggled. "But it's okay, it's a one-time thing, Aizawa is coming back and I would never ever ever have to sparr with him again"

There wasn't a pun intended in the mention of the one-time thing, but still, you really hoped that you would never have to be in that situation again.

"Well, at least this time was something professional"

You nodded, putting your boots on.

"Oh, but then, when I went to feed the cat, he was there, waiting outside Aizawa's door"

"He was where?"

Denki, as always, appeared out of nowhere, startling the shit out of you. Thank god he was outside the room this time and not hiding in the closet or under the bed.

"I'm pretty sure you heard me right," you said, putting some gloss on your lips. They stayed quiet, urging you to follow the story. "I finished my chores as a good daughter, and when I opened the door to leave Aizawa's apartment, I stumbled against him"

"What was he doing there?" Jirou asked with a quizzed look on her face.

"I don't know, he didn't tell me," you shrugged and turned around. Both of them were looking at each other with suspicious eyes. "What?," you inquired.

"I mean, not because we are your friends and we have to be delulu for you, but it's weird, don't you think?" Kaminari said and looked straight to Jirou for support.

"In a normal situation, we would be feeding you with improbable situations, but right now, I'm even intrigued with Bakugo and his behavior towards you. He seems like he's always trying to bump into you"

You couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"Wait a minute, we don't know why he was there. We haven't seen each other in a week less talk to each other, he's not trying anything, maybe he was lost or-"

"Yeah, right, lost." Jirou rolled her eyes sarcastically.

"I know the guy better than you two, and I think that Jirou is more on the correct side than you," Kaminari mumbled.

"Thank you!" Jirou stated, hoping off the bed.

"I think you're both wrong. He's not behaving in a way that's unnatural for him, he's just being obnoxious because what I said to him the other day, he's gonna leave me alone in a couple of weeks and move on to the next" you grabbed your jacket from the hanger and pointed to the door to get them going.

"You're basically saying that he's in fact following you." Kaminari dropped one of his heavy hands in your shoulder to keep you steady on the way to the party.

"She just proved my point without even meaning it." Jirou winked at you while you shook your head.

...

The lights inside the house were faint, a dim glow of absence in the middle of a considerable amount of bodies dancing at the rhythm of the music that was blasting through the speakers.

Jirou and Kaminari were the first ones to get lost inside the crowd, and it was perfectly fine for you. You weren't the kind of friends that were attached to the hip all the time. You respected each other spaces and you knew that eventually, you would find them slightly drunk, and you would hang with them again.

The party was situated inside of someone's home. A person you clearly didn't know. At that point, seeing nothing but unfamiliar faces, you started to doubt that Kaminari knew the owner of the house too.

You poured a transparent liquor in a red cup. You knew that you said earlier that you weren't going to drink, but just a drink won't hurt you.

You were looking at everything, trying to spot someone familiar or a thing to do. You wouldn't consider yourself socially awkward. In fact, people always found you easy to talk to, but you didn't make the first move. Between hi's and hey's, you recognized the characteristically two color bush of hair.

Todoroki was for you, an acquaintance. You knew him for a few classes. He always greeted you back when you raised your hand at him saying hi, but there was always something more. He was handsome and quiet, the mysterious pretty boy full of secrets that every girl wants to conquer. You weren't sure if you were one of them or if it was his vibe and mismatched eyes that always lit a little sparkle inside of you, tingling in your stomach with curiosity.

Well, you know what they say about curiosity killing the cat. Your only job was maintaining the cat alive, so for the sake of that...

"Hey," he said when he saw you approaching.

"Hi," you elevated your voice because of the music. He mimicked that he didn't hear you because of the speakers, so you leaned a little to his side. "Sorry, I didn't know you were into this"

The music, the flashing colored lights, the high pitch of voices from people trying to talk to each other. You included.

"It's friday night. What else can I do?" He shrugged hiding himself a little.

He was still a ball of cotton.

After everything that happened after the war, everyone evolved into a new facet of themselves, forming new angles, new emotions, and new personalities trying to rationale the traumas of the past into something positive.

He suffered a lot, and the fact that his suffering was being broadcast and watched by everyone in the world hurt a thousand times more. He lost all his privacy and the right to deal with the sorrow in his own way without staying in the public eye.

"I can relate to that." You sipped your liquor and scrunched your nose a little. "What are you drinking?" You glanced to his cup, but it seemed to only have water inside.

"It's vodka," he swung the cup in his hand and then gulped all the content down his throat in one go.

"It was vodka," you stated, quirking a brow. That was unexpected. And sexy. "Take mine, I don't like plain vodka"

You gave him your cup, and he accepted without second guesses.

"Do you want me to make you a drink?" He said.

It was subtle. There was no hint of flirtatious intentions. He was soft and friendly but unintentionally.

"Do you know how to make drinks?" You were surprised by his confidence. You doubted your capacities daily, so it was uncommon for you seeing this kind of demeanor, let alone in him. You were projecting.

"Yeah, there's this barman who always appears on my for you page"

He didn't laugh when he said the most mundane thing on the world, so you didn't laugh either.

"Sure, show me what you got"

You followed through the people, and in a moment where everyone was stuck like glue with everybody he grabbed you by your wrist to not lose you.

His fingers were warm, so you could bet it was his left hand. You wouldn't lie to yourself. The pads of his fingers carresing your pulse point in a firm, but soft grip made your cheeks turn red, but there was no chill in your spine or butterflies in your stomach. It was pure tenderness.

Once in the kitchen, the sound of the music lowered a little because of the close doors and the panels of ceramics doing their jobs, preventing the outside.

He moved through the kitchen, hesitating every step he took.

"What do you have in mind?" You leaned in the counter, forgetting you were wearing a slutty top that propelled your boobs almost to you neck.

He side eyed you, and after a peak to your neckline, he became more clumsy.

Your boobs were firm. They weren't big, but they weren't small. Your ex-boyfriends or past flings had always said to you that they were perfect. You knew that tits were tits for them, and the mere concept of boobs was attractive for every straight man.

Lifting your hand without making much fuzz over it, you pulled the top covering the skin.

"I-I," he stuttered, opening and closing a few drawers. He cleared his throat, regaining his confidence again, and showed you a couple of lemons. "Kaminari said once that your favorite drink was Cosmopolitans"

You were surprised by two things. The first was Kaminari talking about you. You needed the context of that conversation, the why, the who, and the how. The second thing was him remembering that unimportant fact about someone who didn't even talk to.

"Yeah," you came back from your stunishment.

Completely, contrary to how he moved in the kitchen fetching all the ingredients, he showed that he was a total expert making drinks, or at least he was good pretending to know how to make them. He used his hands graciously to pour all the things into a shaker he found, and then he poured the most delicated drink you ever saw.

You were used to Kaminari and Jirou mixing all the ingredients stirring them with a straw but that was different.

"Here you go"

The glamor ended when the drink touched the red cup, but we are going to skip that detail.

In your mind, you cursed yourself from the past, the one that swore that would never drink again because after sipping just a drop of that elixir, you couldn't help but want more.

"You shouldn't be moaning like that in front of everybody"

His gruff voice coming from behind made all the hairs in the nape of your neck react.

Of course, the only one that could ruin the perfect moment with the perfect drink and the perfect company was nothing more and nothing less than Bakugo Katsuki himself.

Oh, beloved earth, could it please swallow you already?

...

Bakugo meshed well because of his friends. They were talkative enough to supply the lack of social rudeness of him.

After they arrived at the party, he planted himself in a giant group of men playing beer pong. He played a few rounds and then got bored because everyone was wasted, and for him, it was no fun watching them stumble and laughing at the most stupid things.

His friend helped a little with that. They were talking with Sato and Shoji about some game and some fighting techniques that Bakugo was more than pleased to show interest and even help them with their doubts.

They engaged in a conversation that evolved to many topics that he actually enjoyed. He was fully focused on them when a glance of the color of your hair and the characteristically smile of you dragged all his attention out of the group.

You were wearing just a top and a tiny skirt with black boots that made him want to be stomped on.

Bakugo excused himself of the group. His friends were too busy to realize what was happening and why he was so exalted.

You weren't alone.

You were following that half n' half shithead.

He was the opposite of idiot. He knew how to play his game and how to act when he was committed to spying on someone. He observed from the slight opening between the frame and the door how Todoroki reacted to your presence and vice-versa.

He had a great view of your ass in that skirt. You were leaning on the counter with your ass popping up, and he could notice that Todoroki had a nice peak of your tits. He saw you covering yourself quietly after he became the stupidest person of all times acting distracted and awkward.

"Fucking icyhot," he thought.

Bakugo needed to do something quick, and for one moment, his lack of reasoning won over his structure and square shaped mind.

After that one sentence that drew your attention completely, he saw the change in your posture, the way your smile faded, and how suddenly all your muscles were rigid against every part of your skin that you were showing because of your outfit choice.

He felt intrigued because of the sudden change of your demeanor in response to his presence, and he also felt satisfied with that.

"Oh dear," you sighed, turning around to face him. He never showed any particular emotion, but this time, he couldn't hide the little smirk that appeared on his lips.

"I never expected to see you here," he continued.

You were about to answer when you realized that it wasn't directed to you. He was talking to Todoroki, ignoring your presence in front of him.

"Yeah, I'm not a fan of this kinda stuff," Todoroki said impassive.

"I can notice that," he said with superiority and because of the silence he added. "So what's going on in here? Are you having a little party for yourselves?"

Bakugo knew very well how to play the who can be more annoying game. In a matter of competition, he always won. This wasn't an exception.

"Todoroki was making me a drink, and that's all, now if you excuse us -" you said, opening your eyes and directing them to the door so he could read the room.

"Cool, what'cha drinking?" He didn't wait for your answer and grabbed the drink that you left in the counter taking a giant sip.

The tension in the room was palpable, and you were dying of embarrassment. The booze in your system was not the sufficient amount to get you through what was happening. You wanted to die.

"That's a little too acid for me, but it's good, sure you did a great job"

The way he was saying things was taking you to the verge of lightning him up with your quirk. You looked at Todoroki. He was more than used to weird interactions, but he was looking at Bakugo in a way you couldn't decipher.

"I have an early training at my dad's agency tomorrow, I have to go." Todoroki voice was plain, but when he looked at you, you could see the pity in his eyes. "Maybe next time"

Your entire body was saying sorry, but the words never got to your mouth. You only nodded. He was a good guy and someone that you were actually interested in getting to know, but there was the other bastard ruining everything again.

Both of you saw Todoroki leaving the kitchen, and if someone was looking at the scene from outside, they could've seen how Bakugo puffed out his chest and how the pure rage invaded your body.

"Look what you just did!" You smacked his bicep, and he smirked wider, making you regret smacking him so lightly.

"What? He was totally shitting on himself with you here. I saved his ass. " he pointed towards the door that was still moving with the tandem of Todoroki storming out. "I bet he wouldn't have made it to the second base with you"

"Jeez, that's for me to decide," you whined like a little girl.

"I just did what I had to do"

"Oh my god, what's gotten into you lately?" The bravery made only by the alcohol in your system took control of yourself. "You've been following me and riling me up just for the fun of it. It's been a fucking week I thought that what happened between you and me was more than over, what do you want from me?"

Just as the booze took over your system, Bakugo had his own little thing commanding his decisions. He wasn't sure of what it was.

"I want us to be friends"

You were taken by surprise.

He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't do friends, he didn't need a friend, he had enough but you, what was the deal with you? He found exhausting the feeling of you feeling repulsed by him, the avoidance game that you played very well.

Damn he felt intrigued by your lack of excitement when it came to him. Excitement? The euphoria that tagged along with having the experience with him, people talked about his stamina in bed very often, and that was the clear answer in his head. Was he good enough? Yeah, he was, but it seemed that he wasn't enough for you.

He always knew that his attitude was bad and people loathed him because of it, and it was alright for him. He could definitely still live knowing that. It made sense, at least, hating him for something bad like his demeanor...but sex? He thought he was one of the dudes that the girls wanted more of, the type of guy that the girls will speak of with their friends, the type of guy that would be top tier in a chick's list, well, that really happened before, many times, but what was the problem with you? Why did everyone else he sleep with do that but not you?

He didn't expect the sudden feelings that came along with the concept of you.

Rage. He remained calm in the most stressful situations, but you, with the snap of your fingers and your smart mouth, did everything to put his world upside down, and that wasn't fair for him.

Jealousy. Seeing you flirting, talking with other people when the number of times he had ever spoken to you were almost close to zero than to ten.

Even dependency. He wanted to be close to you so much.

And...confusion, why? why was he feeling so out of control out of nothing?

That's how it felt being pussy whipped?

"Friends?" You snapped him out of his senses.

"Yeah, friends is a word that means -"

"I know what friends are, you stupid asshole." You rolled your eyes at him who was still standing there with superiority after destroying your moment with Todoroki.

"So?" He urged. He was calm even when his mind was racing at the possibility of you saying no.

"What's in for you?" You were suspicious. You knew very well the closed circle of friends he had, only four at best.

"Nothing, I found you not a total waste of space," he said nonchalantly. If you were expecting him to shower you with compliments, you were wrong.

You knew how he was. Always believing he was the best, that his position in the world was above the others, how he called 'extras' the people that were surrounding him but not fulfilling his expectations or even near his expectations, well, if he had one because most of the time people weren't worth his time.

You were exactly the opposite of him. You never had the need to test people out. You never had the need to prove yourself against others. You lived your life day by day, almost unnoticed. You needed to be smarter than him.

"Fine," you conceded. "But, there's one condition"

He scoffed, clearly enjoying and making fun of you for thinking you had the position on making conditions.

"We are not fucking again"

You drew the line.

You've had your friends with benefits before because you knew them. Bakugo was a completely different scenario for you.

He wouldn't lie. He, in his men mind, thought that maybe offering his friendship to you would be the easiest way to get inside your panties. You were not just a pretty face. You had brains.

"Sure, you don't see me fucking with raccoon eyes" he rolled his eyes pretending to be offended.

"Then we have a deal." You smiled tensely at him. He extended his hand for you to take it. "That's how you normally make friends? Like you are selling something?"

"Shake the damn hand"

He used the opportunity of you closing your hand in his to pull you closer to him, stumbling against his broad chest.

You looked at him squirming your eyes, waiting patiently for the moment he decided to fuck everything up. He looked closely at your face, the smuged marks of your eyeliner under the corner of your eyes, the way your lashes curled up and marked more the shape of your eye. He was perplexed by your beauty.

"You left some hair on my pillow, " he said with his voice hoarse, tugging a string of your hair behind your ear.

"We said friends, didn't we?" You smacked his hand far away from near you and he smirked.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "To be honest, I don't know how long this is going to last"

"What do you mean?" You asked, taking the remaining amount of drink in your cup.

"Don't get me wrong. Im a man of my word, but I don't know if you would be able to keep up with our promise"

You laughed at him. You've seen the man naked. You had him on top of you. You didn't need anything from him.

If he wanted a challenge, you would be more than happy to comply.

"Yeah, of course," you scoffed, "I have so little control of myself that I won't be able to keep my hands to myself."

The tone in your sarcasm was rich. He found it amusing.

"Laugh all you want, but I'm not going to be the one suffering because of this dumb decision of keeping us as only friends"

The seriousness on his voice sent a chill up and down through your spine.

"You are so full of yourself." You laughed again, but this time, it was a nervous laugh.

He put his hands up in redemption while walking backward toward the door and then left you all alone in the kitchen with your thoughts.

Was he drunk, too?

He was, only ten minutes after you accepted on being his friend, in fact, suffering because of your quick answer and condition to not mess with each other. He needed strategy, thinking logically to make you make the first move with him.

He didn't know what was the thing responsible for him being so stubborn when it came to you. He didn't know if it was like those occasions when you became obsessed with the things that were out of your reach. The negative of you about being even near him again. He didn't understand a thing about what was going on. But he did know that he was Bakugo Katsuki, and when he had something - someone in this case - in mind, he didn't give up until he had it in his hands.

(Not proofread yet)

End note: I'm working late cause I'm a writer. I tried to make it longer because I made you wait a week for it, so enjoy! Todoroki making us our favorite drink? We know that since he discovered youtube shorts and reels (not tiktok because he is half boomer and socially awkward) he's been stuck with watching short videos every day, cocktail videos and house projects are his favorite, I have no doubt about that.

A penny for your thoughts about this (not really but express yourself)

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