#they could never make me hate you aftermath but. WHAT aftermath they skipped over almost everything

[earthspark-shockwaves-reduction]

actually I find it so funny that they made a whole new bot named aftermath instead of actually showing the aftermath of s1

[boldlyvoid]

Amethyst you so much

Summary: Spencer has had a crush on Y/N since she started working at the bau. She only ever works the night shift after a case, handling all the aftermath gracefully. one night, Spencer stays back and they strike up a conversation about rocks, causing their feelings to dig a little deeper.

Warnings: pure fluff, weed mention, hurt/comfort, grief and mourning

Word Count: 6.4K

Read on Ao3

Late nights at the office had become his thing since Gideon left.

He couldn’t bring himself to go home some nights without a game of chess, a cup of coffee, and the ambiance of the post case staff working. He would’ve had no idea about what goes on after they close a case if he didn’t stay behind most nights.

The phone rings almost every 10 minutes, and it’s always answered by the sweetest voice. The fax machine never turns off, and the most beautiful girl in the world is always running around placing papers in different places.

He’s been smitten with her since she started here, 2 years ago. Never seeing much of her since she was switched to the night shift, always wanting to just watch her from afar, never speaking to her unless he needed to.

“Yes, again we are so sorry for the door,” he can hear her voice from the back corner of the room. “Agent Morgan will be paying for that out of his paycheck, don’t worry, Mr. Kennings. We’ll be sure to remember your hotel when we’re in the area again. The FBI has a very generous budget for overnight cases. Of course, you have a good night too.”

She hung the phone up harshly and let out a deep sigh. He turned around to see her face in her arms, resting against the desk. She looked done, completely fed up. He would be too.

She looked up then, noticing that he was making eye contact with her. She awkwardly smiled and waved at him, “sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Spencer replied. “We asked for the key, I should have stopped him from kicking it in.”

She laughed then, walking over to his desk so she didn’t have to yell across the room. She sat on the corner of his desk lightly, “why do you stay every night?”

“Oh, um,” he wasn’t prepared for this. She had never talked to him before. She was barely able to even look at him when she used to place papers on his desk 2 years ago, now she was on his desk.

“I don’t like to bring the work home with me, it’s better to destress here before I go to my apartment,” he answered, half honestly.

She nodded slightly, “I get it. Luckily I go home in the mornings so the sun helps me feel better.”

“Going home in the dark isn’t fun,” she lightly smiled up at her.

“Do you want a coffee or anything?” She asked softly, “seeing as I am still your assistant as long as you’re here?”

He laughed lightly, “I would, but I’d like to join you in the staff room for it?”

“Okay,” she stood, straightening out her shirt as he stood as well.

He held the doors open for her, letting her walk out first, still smiling as she waited in the hall for him. Never being anything less than 1 foot from him for some reason, and he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Do you like your job?” He asked lightly.

“Oh yeah,” she laughed. “It’s like customer service on crack. Have you ever had to explain to someone why you can’t pay for the cracked foundation after Agent Morgan’s ransacked a place?”

“I honestly never thought of who has to deal with the aftermath,” he awkwardly admitted to her. “I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t stop laughing as they entered the kitchen, “it’s fine. I never have to apologize on your behalf, it’s everyone else who seems to be reckless. Sometimes I feel like it would be better if I came along to babysit.”

“That would be helpful,” he smiled softly as she entered the staff room.

He watched as she took a new coffee filter out of the cupboard. Emptying the coffee pot with ease, rinsing everything before adding the water and scooping in the grounds. He was mesmerized by how fast she was able to do it, then again it was sort of her job.

“What mug would you like?” She turned to him with a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Um, the purple one, if it’s there?”

“You really like purple, huh?” She teased him, standing on her tippy-toes to reach the mug for him.

She placed it on the counter before grabbing a white mug, it had a bumblebee on it, “bee happy” written along the top. It was perfect for her.

“Purple is a stress-reducing colour,” she explained. “When I was a kid my parents painted my room purple so that I’d sleep better.”

“I’ve always been drawn to it.”

She leaned against the counter while the coffee pot started to percolate, “Probably because of your anxiety, coffee doesn’t help that.”

“It’s in my DNA to be like this,” he tried to joke, knowing he succeeded when her smile crept back onto her face.

He was on a mission to keep seeing it.

“For someone who spends a lot of time with dead bodies, creepy places and bad people, you sure are a mousy little thing aren’t you?” She teased him.

“I also love Halloween, go figure.” He’s not sure where the confidence came from, being able to make light-hearted jokes like this was only easy with the team.

Which she technically was a part of. He’s seen her almost every single day for 3 years, slowly being able to get comfortable enough for this very moment.

“What else are you into, outside of here?” She asked honestly, making his heart swell as no one else had ever asked him before.

“Lots of things,” he sighed. “I love to read, I’ll read anything. But mostly I enjoy far-off worlds. Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Sherlock mostly.”

“No supernatural?” She gasped. “Sacrilege, honestly. What kind of nerd are you if you don't support supperwholock?”

“That's the show with the monster hunting brothers right?” He tried to recall it to his mind.

She nodded with a pressed-lipped smile, “it’s bad but in a way where I can’t stop watching every Thursday, they just introduced an angel who is pretty gay. Star Trek is cool too, I guess, I was raised by Trekkies.”

“My mom was into Doctor Who.”

“Mamma’s boy,” she teased him slightly, returning her focus to the coffee as she poured the now finished brew into their mugs. “She was nice when she came in that one time, I made her a very sweet coffee just like yours.”

He reached for the sugar then, poring a generous amount into his mug with a grin, “how much do you like?”

“the same amount,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “I hate the taste of coffee, but it keeps me awake.”

He poured the sugar into her mug as she places a spoon in each. Allowing him to stir his own before picking it up finally. Holding the warm ceramic in his hands, it was almost as warm as the feeling in his chest when he looked at her.

He’s felt it for a long time. He’s been caught staring at her by Derek, JJ even tried to get him to give her his number. Which she already had for when she calls him into work in the middle of the night. They knew he had a crush, he did too. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

“Come to my desk, I want to show you something?” She asked softly, avoiding eye contact as she walked towards the door.

He followed, like a lost puppy, all the way back to her desk. It was always neat, he always looked at it when he made his way up the stairs to the briefing room. He could even see it from where he sat at the table sometimes. Always wanting to see her leave in the mornings.

She had a collection of rocks that always changed, he loved the blue one the most but it wasn’t there currently. She had all new ones since the last time he looked.

“Here,” she hands him one. It’s brown and gold, the colours moving and shifting as he turns it with his fingers. The gold running through it like a beautiful wave.

“what’s this for?”

“It’s a Tiger’s eye, for good luck and happiness,” she smiled. “Keep it at your desk and maybe it’ll be easier for you to relax when you come back?”

The butterflies in his chest were swirling then as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. Wanting him to take it, wanting him to feel better. Caring for him.

“Thank you,” he barely whispers, clearing his throat softly. “It’s very nice of you.”

“You’re always nice to me, so,” she shrugged.

They sat down then, he dragged his chair from his desk over to hers. Sitting in close as she explained all the meanings to her rocks. He listened carefully, getting to examine each one as she spoke.

“This one is Jade, it’s for balancing emotions and allowing compassion so I don’t scream at everyone on the phone,” she laughed as she placed one in his hands. Her fingers brushing his palm softly.

It was a beautiful green stone with a thin white line running through it, separating into 3 directions as he flipped it over, “it’s beautiful.”

“I know some people don’t believe in this stuff,” she started to get embarrassed as she placed them all back on the shelf. “But I’ve always thought; if the moon, which is just a rock, can control the water, and humans are 70% water, then who’s to tell me the moon cycles don’t control my emotions and these smaller rocks can’t help problem areas?”

“You’re not wrong,” he shook his head softly as he thought her words over. “People depended on the stars and planets for guidance originally, as well as rocks and herbs for healing, just because it’s outdated doesn’t mean it doesn’t work?”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “No one has ever agreed with me that easily.”

“Anytime you want to talk, I’ll just be over there,” he pointed at his desk. “And I’m a phone call away?” He swallowed sharply at his boldness, trying to stay calm as he awaited her answer.

“I do have your number,” she smiled, reaching out to place her hand on his. “But you should go home, I’m sure you’re chilled out now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, staring at her hand as they touched. He lightly wrapped his hand around hers, holding it slightly, running his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“And every day after,” she whispered, tilting her head as she smiled at him.

This was going to be interesting.

—

Penelope was always dragging him out. She would take him shopping, to dinner, to the movies. She was like his big sister, dedicated to making sure he wasn’t always cooped up or trying to retreat into a fantasy life.

She kept him busy.

She had 4 bags in her hands as they walked down the street, peering into the store windows to see what else she could possibly be interested in taking home for someone. That’s when they passed the natural health store.

He stopped in his tracks, seeing all the different rocks on the wall accompanies by little cards that described how they could help. He opened the door and rushed inside before Penelope even noticed he stopped following her.

“Good afternoon!” The shop owner called out to him. “How can I assist you today?”

“Um, the girl I like has a rock collection,” he says softly, knowing Penelope is behind him listening. “Crystals more specifically, I’d like to get her some?”

“Well, you came to the right place,” the man beams, escorting him to the wall of rocks. “What is she like?”

“Wonderful,” the words are carried out of his mouth on a sigh as he thinks about her. “She’s confident and nice, and caring. She’s always positive and just so lovely.”

“I’ve got you,” the man starts picking rocks off the wall and placing them in his hands.

Spencer follows him to the desk where he lays down a handful of rocks, Penelope is shockingly quiet as she stands beside him, staring at the collection. She’ll be full of questions later, all of which he is terrified of.

“This is a rose quartz, pretty basic love, beauty, anti-depression stone,” he pushes the pink and a green rock towards him. “Serpentine is for new adventures, observation and insight. I have a feeling you’re up for an adventure with her?”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, “I like that one. It would be better to get her some rare ones, some that have to do with friendship, new beginnings, or opportunities?” He tried to explain his feelings as best as he could. Not knowing if he sounded dumb for a change.

The man smiled wide, “here,” he dipped below the counter and dug out a box. “Chrysocolla is literally for new beginnings, love and opportunity.”

He hands Spencer a vitreous, raw blue stone with small green marks running all through it, it’s beautiful like her. “This is perfect.”

“I’ll throw in a Kiwi Jasper as well, it’s for being by someone's side, support and trust. As well as a Ruby in Zoisite it symbolizes finding the joy in life with someone,” he hands Spencer two equally beautiful stones, prepping a bag and wrappings for all of them.

Spencer lays out the 5 stones he picked out, watching him wrap them with care before placing them in a bag. He rings everything up, Spencer pays and before he’s even out the door Penelope is pouncing on him for answers.

“Who?!”

He can't help but blush and stutter, trying to brush past her and continue walking down the street. “You can’t hide forever Spencer, who is she?”

“How do you know it’s a she?”

“You literally said so?” She looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Come on? I won't tell anyone!”

“Y/N.”

The gears are turning in Penelope's head as she tries to place a face to the name, knowing she’s seen her somewhere, “From the office?”

He nods softly, “the one Derek bullies me for staring at?” He clues her in more as they walk.

“He also bullies her for staring at you,” she adds with a smile. “She’s going to love those, when are you going to give them to her?”

“I was thinking about just leaving one on her desk every day? Maybe with a note for why I picked it?” He really wants to woo her, she’s too special to just flirt with.

“She’s going to love that.”

—

Sure enough, he walked into work every day for the next week, placing a rock on a sticky note on her desk. He was never around when she was able to see it, only knowing she got it when he'd arrive at work the next morning with a note reading 'thank you ♥︎ ' on top of his files.

He thinks about her all weekend, planning how he'll give her the last rock as he takes the elevator up that morning. Only to see her sitting at her desk, phone pressed to her ear as she tried to talk someone out of suing the FBI, she looked absolutely miserable. Just a casual Monday morning for her, almost at the end of her shift.

He rushed over to his desk, putting all his stuff down to dig one of the rocks from his satchel. Picking the Kiwi Jasper for today, he grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote her a little note.

“Always here if you need to talk, -Spencer ♥︎”

He walked over to her desk, she was still talking so she didn’t notice him until he was right there, she looked up at him with a thankful smile.

“Yes sir,” she answered the person talking to her. “Can I call you back after I speak to the chief? thanks.” She hung up on him, turning all her attention to Spencer.

“I know you know it's been me leaving these, but I brought you in another one,” he says softly, placing the rock in her hand and sticking the note to the shelf where it would end up.

“oh my gosh, Spencer?” She placed her free hand on her heart as she looked at the rock.

“You looked upset?”

She stands and pulls him into a hug, he can feel all the eyes on him as he holds her back, letting his chin rest on her shoulder as she squeezes him.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled back, awkwardly smiling at him as she also noticed everyone staring.

“Always,” he smiled back, hand still resting on her arm. “Um, I have a case I need to get to.”

“Of course, good luck,” she smiled.

He pulls the tiger's eye out of his shirt pocket, showing her that he still had it, “kinda hard not to have good luck with this.”

She bit back a smile, her eyes gleaming as she took a deep breath through her nose. Releasing the same feelings he was keeping inside, allowing both their butterflies to swarm out together.

—

He loved when they had cases in Virginia. Being able to stay in the bullpen and work was relaxing, it was easier to think where he felt safe.

He was working on the geo profile all alone, a huge map stretched across a clear case board as he laid a yardstick across it. Drawing a thick red line with marker over it, in his own little world as he worked away.

He doesn’t realize she’s standing there too until she’s lightly pressing her hand on his back.

“Hey,” she whispers softly. “It’s 10 pm, thought you’d like a coffee?” She places the purple mug on his desk with her purse, turning her attention back to what he’s doing.

“Thank you, I’m almost done here,” he says softly, finishing the red triangle he was making on the map.

“I’ve always found it fascinating how you do this,” she complimented him. “You’re so careful.”

“Like baking, it’s an exact science,” he smiled softly.

It made her giggle slightly, placing her hand back on his back as she moved in closer to look. He wanted her to stay there forever, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus. He tried his best to steady his hand as he finished the line.

Putting the yardstick back down and turning to her, she doesn’t move her hand, instead, softly moving to rest on his arm as she stands close to him. “How are you?”

He feels nervous for some reason, it’s not like she hasn’t been this close to him before. It’s just that she’s close and she smells wonderful and he wonders if her lips would be a better wake-up call than the coffee she brought.

He realizes he’s staring at her lips when he licks his own, “I’m good,” he furrows his brow and clears his throat with a nod.

She smirks at him, “how come you’re the only one still here? Hotch said it could wait till tomorrow?”

“I was waiting for you,” he admits, “but I got carried away setting this up, I never heard you come in?”

“Cause I didn’t,” she scrunches her nose slightly as she straightens her stance. “I saw you working hard and went right to get you a coffee.”

“You’re wonderful,” he blushes as the words slip out, trying his best to keep eye contact when all he wants to do is kiss her.

She pats his arm slightly as she backs up a little, grabbing her bag from where she set it on his desk. “I’m going to set up for the night, come talk to me before you leave?”

“Of course,” he says as she walks away, letting out a small sigh as he realizes just how badly he wants her.

He never gets to talk to her before he leaves, she’s on the phone when hotch comes storming in. Saying something about another body and making Reid leave with him. He’s busy for 3 days straight, thinking about her with every free thought he’s able to squeeze in.

He carries the rock from her in his pocket everywhere he goes; in his pants beside his keys, in his bag with his books, in his breast pocket, over his heart, behind a bulletproof vest. Feeling it press against his chest, a part of her keeping him safe where ever he went.

They finish the case with minimal damage, Spencer specifically making sure that Derek leaves all the doors on the hinges for Y/N’s sake, cleaning up any messes they make so she won’t have to hear about it over the phone. They all notice that he’s doing it for her, quietly appreciating the fact that Spencer is happy for a change, that there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes again.

He arrives back at Quantico 30 minutes before her shift starts. Everyone else is packing up for the day while he sits at his desk, reading to occupy the time before she comes in.

Only she doesn’t.

30 minutes pass and she’s nowhere to be seen, it’s only 9:02 by the time he starts to panic. Wondering if she’s okay, hoping she’s just in the elevator or grabbing a coffee that’s actually good, somewhere outside of the office.

“Reid,” he hears Hotch calling him from his office door. “She just called in, her grandmother passed away last night so she won't be in.”

“Oh,” he furrows his brow, looking at him with confusion. “How did you know?”

“Penelope,” he smiles. “She’s still here too, and she knows where Y/N lives.”

“It wouldn’t be weird to go see if she’s okay?”

Hotch just smiles at him again, “go see her, Reid.”

Getting her address from Penelope felt a little weird, but she writes it on a sticky note for him and he’s out the door before she can even pry into what he’s going to say. Which is good, because he doesn’t know yet.

It’s late, but he stops by the little rock store on his way to her house. Seeing the lights still on and the same man from before behind the counter.

“Welcome back,” he’s overly cheerful for it being so late. “How did she like them?”

“She likes the ones I’ve given her so far,” he smiles, looking over the wall himself this time for the right one.

Scanning past every emotion and affirmation known to man as he looked around, picking out a beautiful pink Rhodonite for healing grief, supposedly acting as a hug from emotional troubles. And a Rainbow Moonstone for inner peace, harmony and strength.

“She’s lost someone recently?” He asks as Spencer places them on the counter.

“Her grandmother,” he says softly. “These are good, right?”

“They’ll be perfect, we also have amethyst bracelets, they’re good for healing and drawing in positive energy,” he points towards the small display of bracelets. Small purple stones separated with small gold beads.

He picks up 2 of them, placing them on the counter as well.

“Is she still just a crush?”

Spencer laughs lightly, “unfortunately.”

“She might be more after this,” he smirks, ringing him up. “I’ll give you a 2 for one deal on everything, I have a feeling you’ll be in a lot.”

Spencer thanks him as he pays, picking out a small purple bag for the rocks and bracelet. Placing one on his own wrist before leaving. Also picking up some cookie dough ice cream and a card at the corner store just beside her apartment. Remembering all the times Penelope, JJ or Emily has mentioned it being the best ice cream for crying.

He takes a very deep breath before knocking on her door, hoping to every god out there that she doesn’t find this incredibly inappropriate and weird.

“Spencer?” He hears her voice before she even opens the door, looking out the peephole at him.

She whips the door open, eyes puffy and swollen as she looks at him in shock. She’s in a big sweater and shorts, tears dripping down her cheeks as she shakes her head at him.

“I thought you could use some cheering up?” He awkwardly smiles, holding the ice cream up for her to see.

She wraps her arms around his middle, burying her face against his coat. Still crying as she holds him, he holds her with his free hand, shushing her as he presses his cheek to her head.

She pulls back with a sniffle, “come in,” she offers with an arm out, ushering him inside the small room as she closes the door.

He takes his shoes off, handing her the ice cream so he can take off his coat and satchel too. “This isn’t weird right?”

“Not at all,” she laughs slightly through the awkwardness. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you care this much.”

“I brought something for you,” he says as he struggles to dig everything out of his pocket.

He hands her the card and the little purple bag, seeing the overwhelming glance grow on her face. Her eyes grew wide as he mouth opened, speechless.

She opened the card first, reading the passage about grief that was already provided. Dealing with grief was something Spencer knew too well, adding something a little special to the bottom of the card.

“To live in hearts we left behind is not to die,” -Thomas Campbell. As long as you remember her, with a smile on your face and love in your heart, she will always be with you ♥︎ Spencer

She wipes her tears with her forearm, placing the card on the counter beside the ice cream before she opens the bag. She pulls out the bracelet first, absolute shock on her face.

“Spencer?” Is all she can say, in a high squeak as she shakes her head at him.

“I didn’t want you to be sad,” he says softly, stepping into her space and placing a hand on her arm. “I love seeing you smile, and I thought this could help.

He takes the bracelet from her grasp and places it over her hand. Resting it on her wrist softly, straightening it out against her sweater as she notices the matching on over his shirt sleeve.

“Oh this is so cute,” she swoons. “thank you, really Spencer.”

“And there are some rocks for grief healing in there too, one is supposedly like an emotional hug which should heal the grief and sorrow, and the other is more for inner peace and harmony,” he rambles away, not wanting her to miss anything.

She pours the rocks from the bag, into her hand, looking them over silently with a smile, “they’ll look great on my desk.”

“The purple looks nice on you too,” he compliments her, watching her eyes drift up to him.

She places the rocks on the counter before wrapping her arms around him once more. This time he’s able to actually hold her back, tight as possible as he rubs his hand over her back.

She smells like home, clean laundry and happiness. She’s soft and warm, he holds her perfectly against his chest, like she was a missing puzzle piece that someone finally found under the table, she fits into his life like she was supposed to be there.

She kisses his cheek softly before she pulls back, causing him to pull her into a real kiss on impulse. Connecting their lips as she sighs into the contact, melting into his grasp as she kisses him back.

Her lips are soft, fitting between his own gently as she breathes him in. Her hands reach up to grip his cheeks, kissing him again and again, placing pecks to his lips and cheeks with her eyes closed as he giggles.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his lips, “for everything.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers back, kissing her one last time before she pulls away.

“I was actually about to smoke some weed on the fire escape and probably cry some more,” she laughs lightly. “would you like to join me?”

“I’ll stick with a bowl of ice cream,” he smiled awkwardly.

“Nice one,” she laughs as she opens the ice cream.

“What?”

“Oh, you didn’t even get the reference you made,” she laughs lightly, “to get high you smoke a bowl, so…”

It makes him smile, “I'm a comedian part-time.”

He makes her laugh again, loving the sound of her giggle replacing the tears. “Why aren’t you this funny at work?”

He thinks about it for a little, watching her scoop the ice cream into two bowls, “it’s a little hard to make jokes when people's lives are on the line, I know everyone else does but I get too focused.”

“They probably wouldn’t appreciate your jokes even if you did make them,” she says as she handed him a bowl with a spoon. “They’re kind of mean to you, in a family way but it still sucks sometimes to overhear.”

She walks into the living area then, grabbing a few blankets and opening the window to the fire escape. Crawling out to sit on the ledge, waiting for him.

“I don’t mind it,” he says as he finally sits down beside her.

She places the blanket over their laps, both of them sitting criss-cross applesauce as they ate.

“Do you like your job?” She asks him, just like he once asked her.

“Most of the time,” he nodded as he got brain freeze. The cold air, the cold ice cream, everything that was catching up to him as he scrunched his face up at the feeling.

She laughs at him only a bit before she’s also attacked by the brain freeze, holding the vein in her neck as she chokes out another laugh, trying to warm up the blood going to her head so the pain would stop.

They’re both just a mess of giggles together, unable to say any words as they let it all out. She leans her head on his shoulder lightly as they calm down to just soft chuckles. He presses his cheek against her head.

“Thank you, Spencer,” it sounds like she’s crying a bit. “My grandma was a lovely woman, she’d be glad I’m laughing right now.”

He reached out a hand for her to hold over the blanket. She interlocked their fingers softly, both cold from holding their ice cream bowls.

“If she was anything like you, I’m sure she was the most wonderful woman,” he says softly, not intending to make her cry but having a feeling he might.

“Would you be interested in holding me on the couch while I cry?” She asked softly, tears in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

—

He’s late for work the next morning.

Waking up to the smell of coffee, opening his eyes to a strange view. He’s on a couch he doesn’t recognize in a room he doesn’t know too well.

Then he remembers, they ended up cuddled up on the couch. He wakes up to the memory of her on his chest, crying softly as they listened to some music, he ran his hand over her back while she went through it all, blessed to have his support.

He fell asleep under her at some point, waking up alone with a blanket laid over him. He sat up to see her in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a travel mug.

“Good, you’re awake,” she smiles at him. “Coffee is ready, I uh, I have this button-up shirt from a guy friend, if you wanted to wear that to work today? So they don’t think you stayed here?”

“That’s smart,” he replies as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

Getting up, he uses the bathroom, changes and takes that coffee from her. He’s not expecting her to kiss him on the lips at the door, but she sends him off to work like an old housewife.

He doesn’t want to pull away from her, keeping her pressed against him as he leans in for 4 more kisses before she finally pushes him out into the hallway with a laugh, “get to work!”

“Fine,” he sighs, “are you going to be in tonight?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “funeral is in West Virginia next week, so I’ll be in until then.”

“I’ll see you later?”

She nods slightly with a soft smile, “you’ll be seeing a lot of me soon, Spencer.”

“Good,” he winks at her before heading down the hallway and towards the street entrance.

He sighs as he walks outside, resting his back against the apartment complex door, taking a moment to think about everything that just happened, the night of company and the wonderful send-off.

It was something he could get used to.

He rushes into the briefing room when he arrives at Quantico, sitting down with his coffee and pretending he wasn’t late. Listening carefully to JJ’s presentation of the case as he flips through everything he missed already.

“Wheels up in 30,” he heard Hotch say as he zoned back in. “Nice of you to join us, Reid.”

“I know that travel mug from somewhere,” Derek said as he stared at Spencer, who was taking a sip to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hmm?” He played dumb.

“That’s Y/N’s. She washes it every morning when she leaves to go home, I see her do it every morning,” his eyes open wide. “Holy shit.”

“Isn’t that the same tie and slacks from yesterday?” Emily teased him as well.

“Her grandma died, I brought her ice cream and slept on the couch okay?” He all but yelled, flailing his arms slightly so they’d all back off.

Derek reached his fist out for him to pound it, “good man.”

Then Penelope noticed the bracelet, “did she get you that?”

He sunk his hand into his pocket then, “no.”

“What?” Emily and JJ asked in unison, straining their necks to try and get a good look at what she was talking about.

He nervously held his arm out for them, showing them the purple bracelet resting over the sleeve of his shirt. “I got one for her too, it’s for healing and peace. It’s what she needs right now.”

“Oh, so you love her,” Derek smiles as he teases him. Making everyone else in the room swoon slightly.

“Okay and?”

“Oh my god!” Most of them shout at him, embarrassing him to no end. He was so glad she wasn’t at work this morning or else she would be able to hear this from her desk.

“Did you kiss her?” Rossi pries, asking what everyone else was thinking.

He scrunches his face, pushing his glasses up slightly as he clears his throat, “a few times.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” JJ kept the questions coming.

“Not yet,” he said softly. “Kinda weird to walk into her apartment while she cries to say ‘hey sorry about the death in your family, want to date me?’”

“Yeah,” Emily agrees, shrugging lightly. “At least she knows you like her now, it’s been what? 2 years?”

“2 years, 3 months, 17 days and 43 minutes,” he confirms with a small nod and pressed lips.

“Gross,” Derek teases him.

“The plane is leaving in 10 minutes,” Hotch cut into their fun.

Making them all gather their things and continue the interrogation in the elevator, and eventually on the plane, and in the police precinct. Even Penelope called him in the middle of everything to bug him about her.

The questions were never-ending, everyone wanted to know how they even started talking, who made the first move, how he plans to ask her out. They were relentless, he almost regretted admitting to anything.

They bug him all throughout the day, all the way until they’re arriving back at the BAU late that same night. He almost doesn’t want to go back to the bullpen and see her with all of them, knowing they were going to follow and say something.

She’s waiting in the hall when the elevator doors open, a pressed-lipped smile on her face, “bad news.”

“Another one?” Hotch sighs, “have Garcia send us the info. Be at the table in 10.” He pushes his way out of the elevator, passed them all as they stare at Y/N.

“Hi?” She awkwardly waves at them all, showing off the bracelet on her wrist.

“See ya, Spence,” JJ and Emily say as they matt his shoulder, dragging Derek and Rossi towards the bullpen doors.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for them softly, stepping into her space.

She wraps him up in a quick hug, keeping one arm around his waist as she guides him towards the bullpen, “it’s fine, they’re going to have to get used to us being together.”

“Together?” He repeats her words.

“I only cry on my boyfriend's shoulders, if you're up for the title?” She teases him softly, pinching his side as they walk towards the doors.

“Can I frame “Dr. Spencer Reid, Y/N’s boyfriend” beside my Ph.D.’s?” He keeps his hand on her shoulder, holding each other slightly as they walk towards her desk. He felt like one of those kids who wouldn’t let go of their girlfriend's hand in the school hallway, attached to her at the hip.

“I’ll make one for you while you’re gone,” she laughs lightly.

They stop at her desk where he sees all rocks he got her collecting on the shelf, as well as a cup of coffee and his favourite kind of donut.

“Thought you deserved something nice too,” she says as she nudges his side.

He kisses her on the cheek as a thank you, “you’re welcome,” she smiles to herself. A feeling of pride growing in both their chests.

“See you later?” He asks as he picks up the coffee and donut, walking away slowly as she smiles at him.

“Come home to me safely, Doctor Reid,” her voice is just loud enough for everyone in the briefing room, where everyone is waiting at the window, watching them, deciding to put on a show in return.

He stops on the steps to look at her softly, “I’d fight a thousand unsubs to come home to you.”

“I’ll leave the light on,” she blows a kiss at him, making him blush a deep red.

He waves, making his way up the steps and into the briefing room. A smile on his face, heart thumping in his chest, all the support in the world swarming around him as everyone patted him on the back.

That tiger’s eye really did bring him good luck and happiness, and her name was Y/N.

[yandere-daydreams]

Twelve Days of Christmas - Day Twelve

Prompt: Christmas Day.

Pairing: Yandere!Dorm Leaders/Reader (Twisted Wonderland).

TW: Implied Non-Con, Manipulation, Coercion, Slight Verbal Degradation, Mentions of Injury, Mentions of Choking, and Premeditated Assault.

It was supposed to be a tradition, among the Dorm Leaders.

That was what Leona said, at least, nudging you in the side as that predatory grin played at the corners of his lips. The prefects never went home for the winter holidays, sticking around to organize the dorms and met with the headmaster, so it was only natural that they’d celebrate together, sneaking off campus for the night for a bonfire and a few drinks Sam only sold to his favorite students. You’d tried to brush him off, but Azul’d vouched for him, and when prompted, Riddle’d flushed and admitted that there wasn’t technically a rule against anything they did. Somehow, neither managed to inspire much faith in their ringleader’s story, but they did their best. You’d give them credit for trying.

Kalim was the one who convinced you to go, in the end. You’d never been able to turn him away, and tonight wasn’t an exception, not when he’d been kind enough to turn up on Ramshackle’s doorstep with an extra coat, a spare thermos, and a smile that could’ve rivalled the sun. He was always sweet, like that. He always made it so hard to refuse, like that, even if you’d still groaned as he led you into woods surrounding Night Raven. He always made it hard to say no.

And now, he was making it impossible.

He was making it impossible to say much of anything, honestly.

You could feel his fingers hitting the back of your throat, prying your lips apart and forcing you to gag, your entire body jolting with the sudden force. Something sharp dug into your exposed back, the jagged edge of a stone cutting at the meat of your calf, but a strong hand was quick to clamp down around your shoulder, shoving you back to the ground. Its twin wrapped around Kalim’s wrist, dragging him away and letting your head fall to the side as you sputtered, struggling to breath. If Riddle noticed, he didn’t seem to think of you comfort as a priority. His grip only tightened around your forearm, a growl lacing the edges of his voice as he spoke. “Don’t be so careless,” He spat, all self-righteous frustration and poorly veiled aggression. “They could’ve passed out! The last thing we need is less time than we already have.”

Your vision was blurry, by now, your sense separated from reality by a thick layer of fog, but you could’ve sworn Kalim pouted, straightening his back and digging his knee into your bicep, the pressure numb and bruising, at the same time. “I’m just trying to have a little fun,” He sighed, his tone somewhere between a whine and a mumble. “It‘s not my fault Leona called the first turn. The rest of us still have to find something to do, ‘til he’s done.”

Until he’s done. It was more daunting than it should’ve been, until he’s done. You could feel Leona now, even if you refused to look at him, your legs wrapped around his waist, your thighs in his hands, sharpened nails tearing through thin clothes with a pace so idle, it almost felt patronizing. It would’ve been worse if he rushed, you knew that, it would’ve been so much worse, but part of you still wished he’d just… get it over with. Or, that he’d pretend he was trying to, at least. “I don’t take scraps,” Leona scoffed. You tried to buck your hips, making a half-hearted effort to put any amount of distance between you and him, but he only bared his teeth, sending you a soft glare as he splayed his hand over your waist, pinning you down before you could do so much as writhe. “I offered to let Schoenheit go, but apparently, his majesty got cold feet. And he was so pushy about this, too.” There was a tap to your side, a breath of a chuckle from Leona. “I’d be insulted if I were you, sweetheart. It’s not very considerate of him to leave you high and dry, is it?”

“Some of us have self-respect,” Vil retorted, from the edge of the clearing. You knew he’d be watching, that he’d be looming over you, but you still cringed at the reminder, at the judgement in his voice. “I would’ve offered Pomefiore as a venue, if I knew you’d be rolling around in the dirt like a herd of wild animals. I’ll clean up (Y/n) and take what I deserve when the rest of you are finished.”

At his side, Azul hummed in agreement. He’d chosen to play the role of innocent bystander, his judgement softened into a guiltless, shameless curiosity. In a way, he was better than Vil, he hadn’t helped to restrain you when you tried to run, nor did he seem to take any more malicious glee in this than he did anything else. But, what little appreciation you had for him died the moment he continued to do nothing, staring on with that small, knowing smirk. As if he wanted you to understand that he wasn’t on your side, even if he wasn’t really on theirs, either. “Someone has to make sure Idia gets his recording, too. And, with that in mind, it’d only be fair if he got to see some of the aftermath.”

“Greedy bastard,” Vil muttered, but he didn’t try to object further. “Fine, but don’t expect me to share.”

There was a beat of silence, and Leona took the opportunity to push your ripped shirt up to your collar, dragging his talons over your hips and aiming to start in earnest, but he stilled quickly, rounded ears flicking slightly as his expression dropped. You heard the reason why a second later - footsteps, hurried and careful, dredging through the forest and only getting closer. Your heart skipped a beat, the shocked hazed over your mind finally beginning to thin. Still, you didn’t have to think, you didn’t even try to. You were already thrashing, kicking at Leona, pulling against Kalim and Riddle. You were already screaming, the sound only partially muffled by Riddle’s attempts to keep you quiet. “Help!” It was a desperate cry, all shrill necessity, all primal instinct. “Help, I don’t know what’s going on, I can’t-- They’re going to ra--”

Riddle covered your mouth, but it was too late, you could already see him - Malleus. Wonderful, powerful Malleus, his eyes wide and his expression confused as he stepped into the small clearing. For a moment, he scanned over the arrangement, Leona between your legs, Vil watching on with crossed arms and a scowl, Azul, phone in hand and his posture still relaxed. Worrying relaxed, honestly.

Then, you heard Malleus’ laugh, and your heart cracked open in your chest.

“You gave me the wrong time,” He chided, but he didn’t seem angry. His pace was calmer than it had been as he approached, his touch nothing but gentle as his hand came to rest on Leona’s shoulder, who offered a shake of his head by way of apology. Malleus’ attention shifted towards you, but he didn’t seem affected. If anything, he only seemed more content than he had been, as he met your eyes. “Don’t stop on my account. I’ve been waiting as long as the rest of you.”

That made sense. You hated it, it was disgusting, but it made sense.

Leona did say all the prefects were looking forward to this, after all.

[baku-bowl]

broke 1,000 followers (the fuck? I don't even make content people), so decided to write up a list of some (but not all, I'll make other lists later) of my favorite Bakugou-centric fic recs. my tastes run towards hurt/comfort, as you'll probably figure from the list. if there are some Baku-centric fics that you've enjoyed that aren't on here, please add them - this is definitely not a complete list of the ones I've read and love, but I'm always up for some recs. <3

fair warning, most of these are wips.

------------------------------------------------

Social Media 101 by WindsChild8178

Part 1: Survival Guide to Fucking Up

[Solely Bakugou’s point of view]

Katsuki Bakugou doesn’t have a gentle bone in his body. He’s aggressive in everything he does and does everything with 100% of his heart in it. After the Sport’s Festival, Katsuki starts to get harassed by strangers for his unheroic demeanor. It starts with letters but it doesn’t end there. The moment Katsuki realizes the harassment has entered dangerous territory and he needs to tell someone, it’s already too late.

Part 2: Post Traumatic Life Disorder

[Point of View opens up to Bakugou, teachers and classmates]

When the Dorms are finally built, everyone is settling in well, but things become tense as people begin to realize something isn’t right with the recently rescued Bakugou.

[Cannon compliant right up to after the License Exam]

hands down my favorite fic in the fandom right now. it’s the one that converted me into a Bakugou lover. if you have any fondness for Bakugou as a character then it’s likely you’ve read this one already, but if not, I can’t recommend it enough. incredibly depressing, but with the hope that comfort is coming soon in the next few chapters.

The Kids Will Be Alright, Eventually by NotWithThatAttitude

Bakugou is spiraling in the aftermath of Kamino and his friends are starting to notice. He's stubborn, aggressively independent, and less than willing to dig into his past, but after a breakdown that ends with a painful secret revealed, he starts to get help.

Whether he likes it or not.

Meanwhile, a new kind of villain threatens an uneasy peace following the loss of Allmight. Whispers build as a new narrative slowly takes shape:

Hero society needs to change.

Feat. Therapy, Dadzawa, best boy Kirishima, dysfunctional families, healing, growing up, and the mortifying ordeal of being known

guys.. the medical accuracy of this fic is just... *chef’s kiss*

I rarely see mental health genuinely handled well in fics, but this one goes above and beyond. kudos to the author for doing such excellent research into psychology, and making the application of it in here not-boring. also, while this one does have abusive!Mitsuki, it’s done in a way that feels realistic, and how I usually will see it occur in real life, rather than just for the hurt/comfort feels.

fair warning, the fic can be incredibly triggering (themes of severe depression, PTSD, panic attacks, rape survival, abuse survival, suicidal ideation/attempted suicide, among other things), so be safe and heed the tw’s if you decide to read. legitimately one of my Top Favorite fics in this fandom.

Lock and Key by autochorystalize

Bakugou made a choked, gravelly noise before croaking out a low, “You can’t be serious.” His fingers ached to blow up everything in the room.

“I’m sorry, young man, but you can’t change reality! This sometimes happens.” Recovery Girl clicked through his file, adding a new symbol in a previously empty slot.

- - -

A pair of eyes discreetly locked on to an explosive blond plowing his way forward, parting people in his path. He recognized the kid, of course. Anyone in the underbelly of society would recognize him, after the publicity of both UA’s Sports Festival and the events leading up to All Might’s fall. The uniform he was wearing cast away any doubts about the young man’s identity.

It was a bit of a surprise that the little firecracker presented as an omega.

- - - - - - - - -

Or: there are certain types of evil that seemed too distant, archaic violations and perversions that would never actually threaten bright-eyed heroes-in-training in the clean, modern world...but sometimes those evils aren't as distant as one might think.

remember when I said that I love a/b/o fics that are full of plot and world-building and gender-induced tension? that’s this one. the OC’s are fabulous and you love to hate ‘em. also, it’s the fic that made me fall head-over-heels for the TodoBaku dynamic, so it’s got a special place in my cold, dead heart. 

be warned, there are rather explicit non-con scenes between an adult (OC) and a minor (Bakugou) in this one, but the author warns for them in advance, and you could likely skip those parts without missing too much if you need to.

Never and Always, Eventually by Wawa_Boonliang

"Katsuki can remember the exact moment that he and Deku…that he and Midoriya Izuku became friends. He can also remember the moment he and Izuku became fierce rivals, a time when they were almost enemies.

However, what he remembers most clearly about their relationship is the moment that they moved passed rivals and became something more close than mere friends. Something more like brotherhood, something forged in fire and secured in the middle of a battlefield or in the midst of natural disaster where the number of the dead was climbing ever higher. And then it was torn from him."

Katsuki is given a second chance. A chance to save everyone. A chance to change everything.

But should he?

y’all. I’m a slutty, slutty whore for time travel fics. a time travel fic with autistic!coded Bakugou? it was love at first read.

Lessons Learned by Sif (Rosae)

Rather than the police station, Katsuki's friends bring him to a hospital after rescuing him from the villains. His wounds were minor, but it didn't make having them treated any less important. As it would so happen, Best Jeanist was also brought to this hospital after the attack.

Sometimes, small choices have a big impact on how a story plays out.

classic Bakugou hurt/comfort. this fic opened me up to the potential that could be a genuinely good Best Jeanist & Katsuki mentor-mentee relationship, and I kind of dig it and search ravenously for it in other fics now. I’m also a huge fan of the behind-the-scences Pro Hero Chat group.

Slope by sunfleurmoon

“I’m not a hero. Or a good person,” Katsuki says, giving Aizawa a pointed look, “So leave me alone. I don’t care about the League or UA, or you—” The two years he’s been away have been fine, more than fine, fucking fantastic actually if you ignore the bi-monthly near-death experiences. He doesn’t need this place. He doesn’t miss this place.

And yet, longing, a childish desire to tear up, or maybe blow something to bits, they all twist in his chest like a band of traitors regardless. “—I just want to go home.”

Or: the one where Katsuki and Izuku fail the first term exam, Aizawa discovers their pasts, and Katsuki is booted from UA. Featuring questionable descriptions of villain organizations, a slightly illegal moving shop, and your favorite emotionally constipated badass in distress with a newly discovered penchant for collecting strays.

paaaaaaiiiiiiiin. the hurt is ALIVE in this one. lots of tortured, angsty exploding child goodness. the OC’s are excellently crafted, and the Bakugou & Eri relationship? beautiful. definitely deserves a read.

Ground Zero by WindsChild8178

In the wake of Kamino, Katsuki is tested more than anyone could imagine. Bound by a villain’s quirk to keep his silence or die, he lives each day knowing it might very well be his last. He continues to work towards becoming a hero, keeping his secret from his classmates and teachers, focusing on making it through each day and trying not to allow the panic or depression to get the best of him. When the villain finally corners him with demands in exchange for his life, there is really only one answer Katsuki Bakugou can give.

honestly don't know which I want updated more - social media 101 or ground zero. this author's fics are amazing, and I really wasn't expecting the twist in this one. can't wait for windschild to come back to this fic some day.

The Defect by LadyGreenFrisbee

"Why do you want to win the Sports Festival so badly?" 

Because I want to see if the defect could usurp the masterpiece.

(In which Endeavor holds a terrible secret and Bakugo has to suffer since childhood for it.)

a great concept, and I adore the shouto and Katsuki sibling interaction here. hoping the author will come back to this one some day.

A Name That You'll Remember by Heronfem

Kirishima Eijirou is a Hero. Bakugou Katsuki... is not. Trapped in his toxic workplace and increasingly desperate to get out, Red Riot's days are only brightened by a new villain known as Caution, who's not exactly villainous and keeps accidentally doing good deeds. But when a real villain appears, a threat from the past that demands that Red Riot make the ultimate sacrifice to keep the public safe, Bakugou is forced into saving the day... and eventually, Red Riot himself.

sob story good guy villains are my weakness, this fic is a gem, and I'd kill for the sequel.

Our Hero by AnonymousTwit

He felt everything jerk to the side and throw his balance off before he saw anything, dust clouding his vision and irritating his lungs as the earth itself opened up to swallow them whole. For a single moment, in a millisecond's time, his wild eyes locked with Raccoon Eyes', hers alight with fear and adrenaline-fueled desperation. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that it was the first time she'd looked at him with something other than long-deserved hatred in days.

And then he was free falling.

Or

After a particularly nasty encounter between childhood friends, the class learns about Bakugou and Midoriya's dark history and practically ostracizes Bakugou while trying to defend Midoriya. An earthquake during an outing has all sides regretting their decisions.

just fucking tear apart my self-sacrificing faves in every way imaginable while their loved ones watch on in terror. 💖🥰💖 this one is heavy on the Bakusquad and Class-1A feels, and VERY heavy on the Mina & Bakugou relationship (platonic).

Running back the tape, watching it replay by Faralyne

For someone ripped from their time, ripped from the few but strong relationships built by time and personal development, by self-reflection and swallowed pride, ripped from the one thing that made him feel worthwhile and needed and put-together, and forced to forge everything over again—Katsuki thinks he is handling it pretty fucking well.

Or

A villain’s quirk sends a 29-year-old Bakugou back in time to his middle school days.

am I a sucker for time travel? yes. am I a sucker for vigilante!bakugou? also yes. am I a sucker for this fic? literally refreshing the page in wait for an update as we speak.

Liability by sandelf

After All-Might dies rescuing Bakugou from the League, Bakugou is determined to prove it wasn't for nothing.

But the world is against him, his grief is overwhelming, and his stability is splitting at the edges.

very self-indulgent bakugou angst. tw for harassment, severe depression, and suicidality.

Special Mentions:

How To Win The Sport Festival: A Step By Step Guide by mhwright

Short re-imagining of the Sports Festival Arc if Shinso had planned a little better and worked a little harder to win the Sports Festival and if the match-ups had been slightly different. Self-indulgent fic of watching him succeed.

this is completely Shinsou-centric, not Bakugou-centric, but I love and adore it and am dying for a sequel. Shinsou is Best Boy here and you'll be rooting for him the whole time.

[ibuki-loves-you]

Nagito Komaeda NSFW HCs

Warnings: NSFW

Mod Ibuki: Be blessed 😏

Nagito isn’t an extremely sexual person, but he definitely has his moments where he is very horny. Sex in his eyes is very special and shows you trust someone, which is why it was such a big step when you two had sex for the first time.

Nagito was very weary and hesitant to have sex with you. He wanted to, very very badly. But he was terrified of making you hate him. He thought he couldn’t pleasure you, and once you realized that you would leave him. Not only that, he was also scared of hurting you. That was his main concern. You had to promise him that you would tell him if it hurt so he could stop and/or make sure you’re alright.

Nagito was a virgin. He never slept with anyone before you, so he was pretty inexperienced. Your first time was very slow. Nagito bottomed since he was nervous, so you took control first time. You're first time would be pretty vanilla. Slow and filled with love.

When Nagito topped for the first time, he went very slow and gentle with his thrusts, as if you were made of glass. If you wanted him to go a little faster, you’d have to tell him because he definitely wouldn’t speed up on his own, even if he wanted to. This would last for a couple times but eventually he would gain confidence.

Your pleasure comes before his. Nagito always wants to make sure he gets you off before he even thinks about pleasuring himself. It takes a while to break him out of this mindset, but it is possible. After a while, he does allow himself to cum first, but if he cums, you bet your ass you’re cumming too.

Nagito loves blowjobs. He would never, ever admit it, but he loves the feeling of your mouth around his cock. If you slowly lick him before sucking him off, it will drive him crazy. If you need your hair to be held back, he will do it. Even if you don’t need it, he still will since he loves watching you suck his dick. “S-S/O, fuck. Y-You’re doing amazing, it f-feels heavenly. Just l-like that…”

Okay. Nagito would never bring this up, you need to figure it out for yourself, but he loves being fingered. You first found out when you were giving him a blowjob. You slowly worked a finger down to his entrance and he tried thrusting his hips downwards. Not long after, he ended up with you three knuckles deep inside of him and cum dripping down the corner of your mouth.

Nagito doesn’t like any positions where he can’t see your face, so taking you from behind isn’t something he likes. He prefers simple missionary since it gives good access and he can see your face. Nagito really likes eye contact and kisses during sex, so this is perfect for him.

It will take a while, but eventually Nagito will grow to lose his self-control and end up fucking you with no restraint. Once he gets the confidence, it’s game over. He will rail you and ensure you will not be able to walk for a week. Although he will be sorry and baby you as if he doesn’t already.

“I’m sorry, angel. I should’ve been more gentle. Let me get that for you.”

Switch! Nagito is a big switch! One second, he can be pounding the hell out of you while leaving hickeys wherever his lips lay. The next, he’s a whimpering mess under you while you fuck him senseless. Whether he tops or not depends on both (mostly your) moods, so whatever you’re feeling he goes with!

Pull. His. Hair. Little tugs drive him crazy, they're his favorite. If you tug his hair while you kiss him, it'll turn him on to the max. If you are going a little rougher, he likes it when you pull harder.

Listen...he loves when you scratch his back during sex. Dig your nails into his back and leave marks, he loves it. He likes the feeling and loves looking at the aftermath. If you apologized to him he'd immediately shut you down because he loved it so much.

"Angel...It felt amazing. You'll do it again, right?

Hickeys! Nagito loves being marked by you, as I'm sure you can tell. If you leave hickeys in visible places, it makes him feel incredibly loved. You want people to know you did something so intimate with him!? He could cry!

If Nagito were to ever mark you, he'd feel very bad. With reassurance, that'll fade and he'll start to feel more proud than anything else. Maybe he'll even start to do it purposely...

Overstimulation. That is all. Whether it's him overstimulating you or you overstimulating him, he has fun with it. He loves testing your limits and seeing how many orgasms he can pull out of you. If you ever teased him in public, that is most likely the after effect. Almost like a mini punishment~

"Hm? I thought this was what you wanted? You can do it, baby. Just a few more. Good...So good."

Nagito is big on aftercare. That is super important to him and should definitely not be skipped. He barely takes a breath for himself before he’s asking you what you need. Once he’s positive you’re alright, he’ll cuddle you and tell you how good you made him feel, how much he loves you, etcetera. Then, he’ll end the night with a kiss and a soft goodnight.

[nocturnalwildflower]

hurt; asher adams

summary: y/n finally opens up to asher about suffering from mental illnesses and self-harming

warning(s): SELF-HARM, depression, anxiety, cursing, mentions of parents dying, trauma, asher being cute af (not a warning but prepare yourselves hehe)

wc: 5.0k

A/N (PLEASE READ): I hope you all enjoy this and I lowkey got the idea from my own struggles with depression and anxiety, and I wanted to shine a light on self-harm although I haven’t experienced it personally. Please do not read this is self-harm or depression is a trigger for you as the whole basis of this one shot is self-harm and depression and the demons you face. Remember it’s okay to talk, and if you’re suffering, PLEASE get help. This one shot is an in-depth reality of depression that most people don’t know about and the aftermath of a depressive episode

masterlist ♡ prompt list

It was no secret to the Baker family that Y/N suffered with depression and severe anxiety because of her past. When Y/N’s parents passed away in a horrible car accident when she was only 6, Laura and Billy had no hesitation when it came to adopting her as one of their own as they were best friends with Y/N’s parents. It became apparent early on that Y/N suffered from depression and anxiety due to the trauma she had experienced, therefore the Bakers’ tried everything they could to make her feel safe, welcome and happy as well as sending her to therapy. The majority of the time, Y/N had a really good handle on things and went years without having a depressive breakdown, however, this year marked 10 years without her parents. The closer the day came, the more breakdowns she suffered, and Y/N couldn’t help but wonder why her parents had to die that day.

Not that she didn’t appreciate everything the Bakers’ have done for her, but she couldn’t help but wonder how much happier she would be if her parents didn’t die in that accident; how she wouldn’t be suffering and feeling like the only release was self-harming. She was too embarrassed to tell anyone how she was feeling, so she just resorted to self-harm as a way of releasing the pain, which seemed to be working. Her thoughts were interrupted when Billy knocked on her door and peaked her head in.

“Hey sweetie. No school again today?” he asked in a heavyhearted tone. Honestly, it broke his heart to see Y/N suffer with depression and begin her spiral into a depressive episode. He knew that there was only so much they could to for her, which included getting her a therapist whom she sees off and on depending on how bad her depressive breakdowns are. Y/N let out a sigh before responding.

“Next week, I promise!” she said in a somewhat cheery tone. Billy knew that this was just a ruse to get him to leave her room, however it did the opposite and he took a seat next to her on the bed.

“Sweetie, I think it’s time we put in a call to Dr. Morales and get you some appointments set up. We all love you so much and we hate seeing you suffer like this … please consider it,” he said, and Y/N’s eyes began to fill with tears. She knew that things were getting out of hand if he was suggesting therapy again, and she knew it meant she was going to have to face her demons yet again. Her lip began to quiver before she let out a cry, burying her head into his shoulder while he consoled her. She continued to sob, not knowing how to control her emotions and letting out as many tears as she could to get rid of the pain, even if it only a temporary form of release. Eventually, she had calmed herself down enough to speak to him.

“Billy, thank you so much for everything you and Laura have done for me over the past 10 years. I know this is hard to deal with, having a daughter with mental health issues, but I’m trying so hard to battle these demons like I have all the other times, it’s just too hard for me to do this alone …” Y/N said while wiping away her tears.

“You’re not alone Y/N. You have all of us here, and we will continue to support you until you are better. You know how much we love you and you know how much you’ve impacted our life, in a good way, but I think maybe it’s time to be honest with Asher about it … he’s going to find out eventually, and maybe if he knew what was happening, he could help you through this with us,” Billy said. He knew that having her boyfriend by her side through this battle would help her drastically; Y/N looked at him with a sorrow look in her eyes before responding.

“I-I know I need to tell him … I’m just not ready for him to see me this vulnerable yet. I promise, I’ll tell him when I’m ready,” she replied in a raspy voice. He smiled before giving her a kiss on the forehead and leaving her alone to be with her thoughts. No one knew she had been self-harming, so it was easy for them to leave her alone for the duration of the day; she hadn’t done it in a few days, and although there was a small voice inside her head that kept telling her to just pick up a blade and do it. She waited until she heard the front door close, signaling everyone was gone, before getting up and heading towards the bathroom. Y/N inhaled sharply before she opened the drawer where she kept her tools, staring at the blade for a few seconds, contemplating if this was the right thing to do and thinking about what Billy said to her. “We all love you so much and we hate seeing you suffer.” They loved her and they had given her so much, so why couldn’t she just let this go and stop? She inhaled sharply before picking up a blade, bringing it to her skin, and cutting, letting out a small whimper as the blood began to come out from her skin.

-

Back at school, Asher knew something was up with Y/N. The twins kept telling him that she was sick, but she had been dodging his calls and texts all week. He knew something was wrong because even if she was sick, there was no reason why she was avoiding his calls; usually all she wanted when she was sick was to cuddle with him and spend time with him. He decided to pull out his phone and text her one last time to see if maybe she was in the mood to talk about what was going on.

Hey baby, I know we’ve barely talked at all this week but I just wanted to say that you’re an amazing girlfriend and I can’t wait until you’re better so I can come see you!

He knew she more than likely wouldn’t respond, which wasn’t like her at all. To his surprise, his phone vibrated, and his face lit up when he saw that it was Y/N’s contact. The text was just a simple “You too,” but that was enough for him to have some concerns … she was always one to use emojis for almost everything and would usually get upset if he wasn’t using them enough.

“Okay guys, seriously what’s happening with Y/N? It’s almost like she’s fallen off the face of the earth, she’s hardly answering any texts, and she hasn’t been to school all week… I know she isn’t sick,” Asher said as he caught up to Jordan and Olivia after the final bell rang. Jordan let out a sigh, knowing that it wasn’t up to him and Olivia to tell him what was really happening with her however he knew they had to tell him something to get him off their backs.

“Asher, it’s just best that you talk to her yourself, it’s not up to Olivia and I to tell you what’s going on with her, it’s her choice on whether she wants you to know. I’m home by myself tonight, why don’t you come over and see her for yourself?” Jordan replied in a somewhat annoyed tone.

“Sounds good,” Asher said before getting into his car. He knew Jordan had a point, it wasn’t up to him and Olivia to tell him what was happening with his girlfriend. He hadn’t told her yet, but he was in love with her and cared about her more than anyone even realized. The boys on the team constantly made fun of him for how much he cared about her, but now he was beginning to think something else was going on with her. Was she cheating on him and couldn’t tell him? Did he come on too strong and force her into a relationship when she wasn’t ready? Did she want to break up and felt like couldn’t say anything to him about it? These thoughts kept flooding his mind from the time he walked in the door of his house until the time he left to go hang out with Jordan and get to the bottom of this behaviour.

-

Later on that evening, Y/N was sitting quietly watching her favourite show when she heard a knock on her bedroom door. She already knew it was Jordan because he was the only one home that night, so she closed her laptop and told him to come in. He peaked his head in before opening the door wider to reveal her boyfriend Asher, angering her.

“Jordan, I said I didn’t want any visitors. Asher included!” Y/N said angrily. Jordan just shrugged before mumbling a quick ‘sorry’ and turning around to exit her room, leaving Asher alone in her doorway. She rolled to face the opposite side of the room in order to avoid looking at him, hoping that he would get fed up with her and leave, however this act did the complete opposite.

“Y/N, you’ve been couped up in this room for over a week now … You’re dodging everyone’s calls and texts, skipping school, sulking away in your room and shutting us out. This isn’t like you at all, what is happening?” he asked in a soft, loving tone. Asher wanted her to open up about why she was feeling this way, even though he knew it was because the anniversary of her parents’ death was coming up. He had seen it before, she usually got sad for about a week but was okay otherwise, however this was different and something he had never seen before; he has never seen her shut her friends out and completely isolate herself from the rest of the world.

“Asher go away,” Y/N mumbled to her boyfriend as she sat up, staring at him with a somber look. Asher moved closer to her, eventually sitting on the end of her bed and staring into her gorgeous eyes. He could tell something was wrong with her; her hair was up in a bun that looked like it hadn’t been taken out in days, her eyes were puffy, the colour in her face was gone and she looked like she hadn’t eaten in days either. He hated seeing her suffer like this and knew he had to do something about it.

“Y/N, please tell me what’s happening. I want to be here for you, but I can’t unless you open up and tell me what’s wrong,” he responded, keeping his eyes on Y/N.

“It’s been 10 years Ash, 10 years since I last saw or spoke to my parents and I can’t even explain to you how much pain I’m in because of it. I’m so fucking embarrassed that it’s come to this, I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone about how I was feeling and tell anyone how bad my depression had gotten, so I found another way to cope with the pain …” Y/N replied in a somber tone. She inhaled sharply before lifting up her sleeve hesitantly and exposing her forearm. Realistically, this was not a conversation she was prepared to have with him; quite frankly she never wanted him to find out and she was hoping this would all blow over before she needed to tell him. Y/N tried her best to keep the tears from rolling for her face, but they slowly started to fall from her beautiful Y/E/C orbs. She felt like she was being weak, risking her relationship with Asher by being vulnerable and showing him how much she was struggling.

Asher kept his eyes fixed on Y/N’s forearm. There was a slight discolouration where she had cut her arm with a razor blade recently as well as some faded scars further up her arm. He felt completely infuriated with himself that he let his girlfriend go through this alone and that she felt like she couldn’t come to him for help. He knew something was up when she never wanted to spend the night with him, but he blew it off because he didn’t want to pressure her into anything she didn’t want to do. He began to ponder about why she never came to him for help, until he realized that he had been so focused on keeping his endurance up during the off season and focusing on the next football season that he completely neglected her. Asher took Y/N’s hand into his, interlacing their fingers while gently lifting her chin so their eyes met.

“Y/N I’m so sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t come to me with this. I’m so angry that I let you go through this alone and made you believe that I wouldn’t support you. I want you to know that I’m still here, and I don’t plan on leaving. I’m here baby, you don’t need to hold on to this alone anymore because we’re going to get through this together. You have no idea how much better my life is because you’re in it, you have no reason to ever doubt this relationship and I’m not going to lose you because of your mental health,” he said, bringing his lips gently to her. More tears began rolling down her face as he continued to kiss her, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her closer to him. She gently pulled herself away from him before speaking up.

“Ash, you were so busy with training and I didn’t want to bother you with this because-” she began before Asher cut her off.

“Y/N enough. You and your mental health are much more important than anything right now, I’m here for you and we’re going to get through this because I love you so much it fucking hurts. Watching you spiral into a depressive episode is not something I want to see happen and I would do anything for you, you know damn well I’m not letting you go through this alone,” he replied with a smile. Y/N felt the butterflies in her stomach when she heard him say it. Those 3 little words. The words she thought she would never hear anyone tell her. I love you. She couldn’t believe that Asher Adams actually said that to someone like her when he just witnessed her in a state of depression. Y/N tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and looked at him with loving eyes.

“Y-you love me?” she asked in a quiet tone. Asher gave her a confused look and laughed.

“Who wouldn’t? Y/N, you are hands down one of the best people to be around and you always make sure everyone is always having a good time. You’re smart, kind, caring, beautiful … the list could go on all day. You have no idea how happy I was when you agreed to go out with me, and I’m so thankful for everything you’ve done to help me and how happy you’ve made me. Now it’s time to get you back to being as happy as you were when we first started dating. I’ll say it again, Y/N Y/L/N I fucking love you, despite the demons you are currently battling” he said in a soothing voice, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers again. Y/N gently placed her hand on his neck and pulled him closer so that he was laying on top of her. She had to admit that it felt good to finally have this burden off her shoulders and she felt so much better now that Asher knew the truth. He pulled away and looked her up and down before speaking.

“Why don’t you spend the night at my place? You’ve been couped up in this room for over a week and a change of scenery might be good, plus if you’re up for it we could talk about all of this. Like I said Y/N, we’re going to get through this together because I love you,” he said in a soft tone, caressing her cheek and leaning in for one more small kiss. Y/N looked at him with loving eyes and smiled before she responded.

“I love you too … please take me home with you, that’s all I want right now babe,” she whimpered out in a soft voice. Asher proceeded to pack her a bag with everything she needed to spend the night at his place and grabbed her hand, gently leading her down the stairs and into his car. She had to admit that even something as small as leaving her bed made her feel better to some degree, but she knew this was only one small step towards beating this illness.

-

As soon as they walked in the door, Asher sat her down and made them both something to eat, making sure her meal was full of food that made her feel happy, however the smile on her face quickly faded when the food was placed in front of her. Demon #1: having to eat your first meal after a depressive breakdown. Asher picked up on this behaviour rather quickly and placed his hand in hers, grabbing her attention.

“I know it’s going to be hard for you to eat after that depressive breakdown, but you haven’t eaten in days baby. You need food in your system, please just try,” he said in a heavyhearted tone, earning him a half-smile and a small nod from his girlfriend. Truth be told, she didn’t want to eat; she was too embarrassed about what had just happened and was so emotionally exhausted to think about anything, her mind kept drifting and she kept thinking about how much she wanted this moment to be over so she could sleep the pain away. Y/N finished about half the food her lovely boyfriend had made for her, however this was more than enough to satisfy him, he was just proud that she tried for him.

After they finished eating, Asher took it upon himself to de-tangled Y/N’s hair from the bun it had been in before leading her to the shower and helping her strip down, knowing that she was too emotionally exhausted to do it all herself. He joined her in the shower, helping her wash her hair and comb it out, in addition to making sure her body was clean. He always kept a bottle of her shampoo, conditioner and body wash as his house, just in case she ever needed it while staying there. He made sure he had a warm towel for her afterwards and helped her brush her teeth; he picked her up bridal style, bringing her into his bedroom and gently laying her on the bed, staring into her eyes that were still as beautiful as the first time he looked at them.  

Y/N laid her head on Asher’s chest, eyes focused on the movie that was playing on the flat screen television in front of them. He was too busy admiring her, thinking about how much he loved her and how lucky he was to have a girl like her, despite what she was going through. Her breathing was stable and somehow, she seemed to look even more perfect than earlier; she was playing with the hem of Asher’s shirt and turned to face him, catching him staring at her. She gently pushed herself up, closing the gap between them and bringing their lips together when his hands found their way around her waist, positioning her body on top of him. Her hands found their way to his head, ruffling his hair up while he pulled her in tighter, moving his lips from her mouth to her neck while mumbling a quick ‘I love you’ and placing his hands on her bum, before she stopped him.

“Asher I can’t … I can’t have sex with you this just isn’t the right time,” Y/N said in a fearful but quiet voice. Demon #2: being intimate with him after he just saw you in a vulnerable state. She began to tremble and proceeded to let out a small cry, releasing the tears she was holding in and placing her head in the crook of his neck. He began to slowly rub her back and coo in her ear to calm her down.

“Woah Y/N, that’s not what I was doing my love. Of course I want to have sex with you and show you how much I love you, but right now if definitely not the time. You don’t owe me anything, especially not your virginity, I love you whether we have sex or not. Just come here, try to stay calm and breathe babe,” Asher cooed as he let Y/N sob into his neck. He continued to rub her back, knowing that the only way she was going to progress towards success was by letting her release all of her emotions appropriately and he continued to coo in her ear until she began to calm down. His shirt was absolutely drenched in her tears, however eventually, she had stopped crying, pulling away to look at her boyfriend before she took a deep breath and began to speak.

“I’m sorry Asher I-” she began before he cut her off.

“Y/N, no apologizing please. Are you okay? What do you need me to do right now to make you feel safe and comfortable?” he asked in a soft tone. She put all her focus into taking nice, big, deep breaths as he continued to rub her back until he was given any sort of direction from her.

“Just lay here with me and hold onto my tightly, don’t let go until I fall asleep,” Y/N responded in a calm tone. Asher happily positioned himself so that their bodies were in the perfect position, he wrapped his arms around her and held on tight as she sighed in relief, giving him the impression that this was perfect; they laid there peacefully and quietly until they both snoozed off.

-

The following morning, Y/N woke up alone in Asher’s bed, knowing he was downstairs making her breakfast; he knew she hasn’t been getting a lot of sleep due to her anxiety and knew she would appreciate catching up on her sleep. She sat up on his bed and stretched, rolling onto the other side of the bed to check her phone; as expected, she had a text from Laura telling her that Billy and Jordan had filled her in on what was going on and reminded her that she was so loved in their family. She smiled, knowing that she had a wonderful family that will help her through this and an even more amazing boyfriend what would be by her side through all of the struggles. She shot a quick text back to her mom thanking her, just as Asher came around the corner with 2 plates of breakfast, placing one in front of Y/N. She noticed that her plate had a tad less food on it than his, which didn’t cause her much anxiety given the fact that she didn’t finish all of her food the previous night. He sat next to her on the bed and watched in awe as his girlfriend was eating, free of any nervous expression and looking like she was actually enjoying the food. He stayed quiet and let her enjoy her meal in peace before he spoke up.

“So your dad called me … you know that this means you’re going to have to call your therapist and start seeing him on a regular basis again right?” Asher said as his girlfriend took a sharp breath in. Demon #3: speaking to a therapist for the first time and admitting what you had was a depressive breakdown. She knew that this was coming, she just didn’t realize it would be so soon; Asher picked up on her body language and gently kissed her cheek while moving her chin with his finger so that she was facing him.

“You know that I’m here baby, you don’t need to go through this alone. I promise I will be here for you to make sure you take that little pill every day … hell I’ll even drive you to all of your appointments if I have to. Whatever it will take to help you get through this,” he said in a soothing tone. Y/N had to admit that he was taking this much better than she thought he was going to, and she kept hoping that he was going to genuinely keep his word to her about being there through all of this.

“I’m going to call them on Monday and make the appointment,” she replied in a low voice, resulting in a grin being plastered on his face. Asher slowly closed the gap between the two of them, bringing his lips to hers and caressing her cheek with one hand, while the other snaked around her waist, pulling her in closer. He couldn’t help but fall in love with her even more each time she found a new demon to battle and knowing that with all the love and support she was receiving from her family she was more than capable of beating them.

“Y/N, if you ever feel like you don’t trust yourself to be alone please call me. I don’t care if it’s 3am on a school night, if you don’t feel safe being alone I will come and get you, or I’ll stay on the phone with you as long as you need to me. I’ve said it 100 times and I’ll say it again, I love you so much it hurts, and I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Asher replied giving her a kiss on the forehead and holding her close. It still absolutely broke his heart that she had been going through this for weeks without anyone knowing and she was still too scared to tell her own family that she self-harmed; but he made her a promise and he fully intended on keeping it.

Throughout the day, Y/N’s mood seemed to improved little by little, although it wasn’t exactly where Asher wanted it to be, he was still thankful that Y/N was trying her best. The couple had just decided to lounge around Asher’s place, listening to slow music and enjoying each other’s company while Y/N opened up to her boyfriend a little bit more about what had been going on with the depression. He was extremely proud of her for finally opening up to him about her situation and he was grateful that she trusted him enough to come to him so he could support her. The couple was currently dancing around his kitchen, being natural and goofy like they always were.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited JJ, Spencer and Jordan over to hang out with us for a little bit later on tonight … if you don’t want them coming I can tell them not to,” Asher mentioned while he and Y/N were cooking dinner. Demon #4: returning to socialization with your friends after you have a depressive breakdown. Although this made Y/N nervous, she knew that it was something that had to be done in order to get her back on the right track with her mental health; she nodded her head and pulled her boyfriend in for a loving kiss, when they head the doorbell ring.

“Speak of the devils,” Y/N joked with a smile. Asher reciprocated the smile as he went to the door to greet his 3 best friends. Obviously JJ pulled her in for a friendly hug and made some kind of joke about how he feels like he hasn’t seen her in a while, not knowing the real reason; mind you, Y/N wasn’t ready for anyone else except for her family and Asher to know what was happening. The boys had skipped along into the kitchen and sat down, however, Jordan stayed behind and had a proud look on his face.

“I’m glad this happened Y/N. I’m proud of you for being honest with Asher about what was going on and you know we’re all going to be here with you when you battle this disease again … no matter how many times your depression comes back, we’re here for you,” Jordan said in a small voice so no one else would hear their conversation. She gave her brother a hug, muttering a quick ‘thank you’ and letting a couple of tears fall from her eyes. She gave him a smile as she pulled away and quickly wiped away her tears, taking a deep breath, and joining the boys at the table outside.

As Y/N laughed at one of the lousy jokes JJ made, Asher couldn’t take his eyes off her and was genuinely happy to see her laughing and having a good time, even though he knew that this boost in energy and confidence wouldn’t last all that long; he was just happy that in that moment, she was truly enjoying herself. He knew that helping her battle her depression was going to be an uphill battle and he knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but he was planning on sticking to his word and staying by her side through this fight. He knew that his life wouldn’t be the same without her and all he wanted was for her to be better so they could move on to the next chapter of their lives together. All he wanted to do was help her beat this because he loved her, and he would do anything to prove to her that he was here to stay, no matter what it took.

[peter-parcoeur]

Good girl gone bad | (frat!tom)

request: How about frat cocky Tom at a Christmas party, wearing something that shows off his muscles, and he keeps flirting with y/n, who hates him. Throughout the night, he slowly wins her over, and once he has her in the palm of his hand, he makes her compliment him and then worship his muscles and then get on her knees and suck on him through his boxer briefs and then finally he f*cks her face and he's dirty talking and boasting all the way through :)

disclaimer: Hiii, so this was a request (sadly anonymous but if you’re out there reading this, I hope you enjoy and this lives up to your expectations...) this is my first attempt at fratboy!tom so I apologize in advance if that’s not exactly what you expected from it or whatever. Also I’m french so, some unfortunate spelling mistakes may occur and for this I apologize too! (damn I do really know how to sell myself, don’t I?) Anyway, enjoy your reading and please give it a ♥ if you liked it and a comment if you either really liked or hated it. Annnnd I’m talking too much.

warnings: smut smut smutty smut is to be expected, obviously. includes: brat!tom, braggy!tom, boasting!tom and some serious potty mouth / enemies to lovers (well, more like enemies to fuckbuddies idk) / oral-sex / face-fuck / dirtyDIRTY talk/ fingering / brief mentions of self luuuuvin (that’s masturbation, for you) / dom!tom + sub!reader / I guess a little bit of humiliation and praise kink idk if that’s triggering so just in case... / roughness... I guess that’s it? probably enough already.

____________________________________________________

« Come on, it’ll be fun! God knows you could really use some fun… » your friend’s voice almost begged over the phone as you safely locked it between your cheek and your shoulder to open the door to your dorm room, your keyrings grazing the piece of metal surrounding the lock with a soft, clicking noise.

“Yeah cause hanging out with complete morons as they get shit-faced on cheap vodka is totally my idea of a good night...”

“ Urghhhh, Y/N please, are you really gonna be a Grinch about it?”

“  Well, it’s a Christmas party so I guess that’s convenient?”

You could tell your friend was getting frustrated by now, the slight change of tone in her voice making her sound desperate. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your books above the mess on your desk, you immediately crashed onto your bed with a loud, exhausted groan as this never-ending day had managed to push every single one of your buttons. You felt completely drained and yet, your best-friend wanted you to join her to some frat-house where, apparently, the “most incredible” Christmas party was about to be held? Uh-uh. No way. Your actual plan for a Friday night (= eating take-out food in front of some true crime documentary on Netflix) seemed much more appealing than the effort your friend seemed to require from you.

“You’re really gonna bail on me? What if something happens to me?”

“Now this is guilt pressure and you’re so much better than this! “ You laughed, “plus… I know you wanna go just so you can make out with Harrison… You really don’t need me for this and truth be told, I really don’t need to see that guy shove his tongue down your throat!”

“Maybe YOU need someone to shove his tongue down your throat “

“I’ll pass, thanks “

“Come on, how long has it been since you’ve got laid? “

“That’s… way beside the point?””

Still, you thought about it.

How long has it been, really?

Well. As far as you could remember, there were a couple (disastrous) tinder dates at the beginning of the semester. Nothing major even though the sex was still okay. Then you had decided to delete the app so you could focus on your studies, thinking that, eventually, life would grant you with an actual IRL, cute boy who could actually work a little harder to get into your pants whereas it had taken a single swipe on a screen for the previous contestants.

But for now, as the semester had come to an end and Christmas break was around the corner, it only occurred to you just how busy you had been, studying all night long and running on fumes and gallons of coffee. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you truly needed to blow off some steam. Sometimes you wished you were more like her, carefree and less picky when it came to boys and random flings. Like her current crush, Harrison.

Harrison was a typical heartthrob with the face of a Greek God, so it was only natural for him to act like a brat and play with girls as he wished. With his piercing blue eyes and dreamy smile, girls could only wish he would look at them twice. But still, he wasn’t the worst part of Team Jackass, as you liked to call them. Their captain was actually Tom Holland. Football Quarterback, Tom collected girls’ hearts like trophies and held his pride within his questionable reputation. Party animal, heavy drinker and confirmed exhibitionist since he’d been caught fucking a cheerleader in the middle of the football field right after a game, his name was on everyone’s lips, whether they whispered gossips down the faculty’s corridor or muffled into a pillow as he dived into another naïve, besotted girl with the promise of an encore. To this day, all of the girls he had laid his eyes on were still waiting for a call-back.

You pulled a disgusted face at the thought of witnessing his little hunting game one more time. Tom was actually one of the main reasons why you usually skipped any frat party now. There were just so much time you could waste, sipping on some funky tasting “home-made” punch as “Football superstar” Tom Holland bragged about his athletic skills or how many girls he had fucked over the last couple days. Sometimes, it felt like a competition between him and his brain-dead friends. Somehow, you just knew he kept score of his one-night stands. Maybe he’d give you five stars for trying anal, a deep throat would give you another six and god forbid if you flattered his enormous, gigantic cock, well then, by all means, the throne would be yours. There was just something about him that screamed and irradiated praise kink.

“Y/N? Have I lost you?”

Your friend’s voice brought you back to reality as you seemed to have blacked out for a while.

Then, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, the words came out of your mouth.

“What time is the party then?”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For every party, there’s a dress code.

Surely, a “Christmas” party just couldn’t be, without a fair splash of colorful jumpers or any subtle hints at Santa Clause as an excuse for a last-minute theme. Still, standing in front of what could only be Wednesday Addams’ wardrobe, you were suddenly hit by your lack of interest for any piece of clothes that wasn’t a shade between black and white. Was beige even a color anyway?

For a brief second, you considered wearing your infamous Christmas onesie, basically a fluffy one piece with a zipper, an oversized hood and covered with snowflakes and candy canes. The jokes would never end but no one could blame you for being ‘off theme’, then.

In the end, you settled for a rare “colorful” top which, luckily, happened to be whatever shade of green Christmas trees actually were. It was also skin tight and you knew for a fact it made your chest looks twice its size because of the way the velvet fabric enhanced your waistline. It was nowhere near provocative with its long sleeves and turtle-neck so you figured you could be a little bit more risky with the bottom part of your outfit, grabbing the black mini-skirt you’d bought a week before on a splurge, even though you didn’t know if you’d ever find the confidence to pull it off. It was short, there was no denying that as you turned around in the shop’s fitting room to catch a glimpse at your backside, knowing your whole ass would be exposed if you ever dared to bend down even so slightly.

Still, you felt sexy in it and as a girl who happily traded a sexy dress for yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, any piece of clothes that made you feel good about yourself was an instant buy.

Looking down at your final outfit as it laid down on your bed, a pair of nice ankle boots at the bottom of it, you patted yourself on the back for making the extra effort and walked to the bathroom for a well-deserved boiling shower.  Staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you sighed to yourself as the aftermath of a sleep deprived week and lack of skin care routine or basic maintenance whatsoever hit you like a truck on the highway. Your hair had been wrapped into the same messy bun for days and it would definitely take some professional skills to cover up the bags under your eyes.

Maybe this party was the wake-up call you needed, the equivalent of a Judging look from your mother every time you visited her after a while. You could almost hear her complain about how unhealthy you looked and how you should wear more “flattering” clothes. Ironically, you also knew she would never approve the skirt you intended to wear that night. You remembered just too well that frown she’d given you at your father’s 60th birthday and how you had to gulp an entire bottle of red wine to forget about the fact the woman who gave birth to you had called you a prostitute for wearing a dress above the knees. Sometimes it’d be like that. Family gathering were like a plague, somehow, you just couldn’t escape it and it would either scar you for life or make you wish you were dead.

As you entered the cubicle, the coldness of the tiles hit you, covering your skin with goosebumps and sending shivers down your spine. It took you a couple minutes to adjust as you waited for the water to turn hot enough to coat the mirror with a thick foggy layer. Only then did you relax, letting go of this week’s emotionally charged weight upon your shoulders and focusing on yourself, at last.

It was a fairly long shower as you decided to go through your entire haircare routine instead of a brief, one minute shampoo. Not to mention the fact you also had to shave entirely as it felt like it would be a good way to get rid of this nightmare of a semester, like stepping out of your old skin and into a new one. Usually, body hair was probably too far down the list of your preoccupations to even be noticed but you figured, as you felt surprisingly motivated, now was the right time to make your body smooth as a baby. You actually loved the feeling of a soft, freshly shaved skin.

As you rinsed off the soap, your hands fondling the body parts water failed to reach, your mind unexpectedly wandered through some steamy thoughts as soon as your fingertips grazed your slit, taking some shy dip between your folds. It was no surprise that a simple, barely there stroke would instantly strike your arousal, after all, it had been a while. You shamelessly admitted that your studies had taken over your life, up to the point you’d even find yourself too exhausted for some self-love. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, the small collection of adult toys you owned were probably collecting dust in the middle of your socks and panties, wondering when they’d get to take a swim and make you squirm into your sheets as you hold on to the headboard, biting your lip until it turns white so you don’t scream through climax.

What struck you the most was the fact TomfuckingHolland came to your mind the very second your middle finger met your clit, circling it softly as you felt electricity spark through your legs, making it jolt. Why the hell was his stupid smug splattered all over your unspeakable thoughts when he was, by far, the last man on Earth you’d let come close to your naked self? Let alone in a shower cubicle the size of a shoe-box where you’d have no space whatsoever to escape his heavy, muscular chest.

His body looked ridiculously built for a man with the face of a 13 year-old. Sometimes you’d catch him randomly flex throughout the day, showing off his enormous biceps to anyone willing to praise his impeccable shape. There would be no room for these guns in there, you thought as a brief image of these massive arms shielding you from both side, fists tight against the tiles, came immediately to your mind. What took you by surprise wasn’t to actually picture Tom standing in there with you, naked and definitely willing to make that room a lot steamier, but the fact you slipped a finger into your surprisingly dripping core as soon as you imagined him stepping closer so your bare, sticky chests would meet, his obvious arousal poking at your inner thigh, begging to make an entrance.

You stopped before you inevitably came, even though your body craved for that well-deserved relief. You may have been hornier than you thought, but not nearly horny enough to hand your first orgasm in months on a silver plate to a boy who probably stroked himself in front of a mirror on a daily basis. Your thighs squeezed together where your fingers had left a desperate void, rinsing your entire body with a much colder water, hoping it would bring your sanity back.

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You looked incredible.

It wasn’t just you boosting your ego through a pep talk in front of your mirror back in your dorm this time, and even if you loved to give yourself an encouraging speech, praising whatever features you thought made the cut in the top three of your best assets as you gathered the strength to go out in public in an outfit pretty far from your comfort zone, nothing could ever beat the look people gave you as you walked into the frat house looking like a three courses meal. There was just something about that short time slot where you caught a gaze and knew what that look was all about.

You knew Liza, the head student with a soft spot for athletes so obvious she probably had the entire football team’s handprints tattooed on her skin, just hated to see you get the attention she usually caught. Athletes loved nerdy, smart-ass girls like her, but to her own despair, you actually happened to be one of those, only with a shorter skirt and thicker thighs.

You knew half of Team Jackass was already staring at you, wishing they’d catch a glimpse of whatever you had to offer underneath that impeccable outfit as the soft fabric of your skirt kept rising up, every step bringing you closer to an unfortunate peek at the plain, white cotton undies you had chosen to wear that night.

But above anything, you could most definitely feel someone’s gaze upon you, burning up your skin like lasers trying to scan through your clothes. Suddenly, you felt exposed and with a simple smirk, Tom-Holland came out, strong as ever, just so he could pop out the comforting bubble you had built around you. Of course, he had chosen to wear the tightest white tee-shirt so everyone could distinctively see each of his six, rock-hard abs. Of course, his sleeves were slightly rolled up to enhance his biceps and if you weren’t familiar with his despicable behavior, seeing him flex just so he could kiss the pumped-up mount irrupting from his upper arm like a fresh batch of popcorn on a stove, you could have barfed immediately at the disgusting sight of a man with an ego the size of a fucking comet.

For now, you simply rolled your eyes all the way to the back of your head and watched as he smiled cockily, his hand reaching out for a redhead girl’s cheek even though his eyes were most definitely undressing you from afar. You could tell the girl had dressed to impress as she was tightly wrapped into the just-slutty-enough version of Santa’s outfit. Basically a velvet red dress with a fluffy white strap on top of her bustier. The way she laughed and twirled her long curly strand of hair as she gazed lovingly at Tom was enough for you to know she would soon join the never-ending list of names on his score board.

Shaking your head at how easy it seemed for him to get laid within the first hour of a party, you made your way to the kitchen where the alcohol seemed to be. As expected, most students were already sipping at some questionable cocktail right from the bowl with a straw and since you didn’t feel like going straight for the strong stuff, you settled for a beer, fiddling with the bottle cap for a solid minute before you heard a voice coming from behind your back.

“Need some hand with that, sweetheart?”

The cocky tone and thick accent immediately sent you off as a long, single shiver ran down your spine from the disgusting thoughts it brought along. It had come to the point you couldn’t even stand his stupid voice.

“I’m fine, thanks” you lied, your first still tightly gripped on your sealed beverage.

“You look like you could use some strength…”

Of course, he had to bring up his impressive, spectacular strength within seconds. Maybe he expected you to slow clap, bow down or throw confetti’s all over him for being strong enough to open a beer bottle. What on Earth would you do without his strong, manly hands?

Grinding your teeth as your tongue clicked against your palate out of pure annoyance, you gave him the most unimpressed look as he grabbed the bottle from your hand, popping out the cap hard enough to make it fly off and hit the table with a soft, metallic thump. Smirking to himself, Tom handed you the bottle back, tilting his head as he obviously expected some enthusiastic reaction.

“Do you want a medal or something?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would be a good start? “He mocked, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your consider throwing the entire bottle at his face to wash away his stupid cockiness.

“Thanks” you simply blurted out, raising your beer slightly before walking away as you took a couple sips. It wasn’t even that cold or remotely good.

Tom watched as you walked away in silence, his eyes inevitably drawn to the way your hips and that glorious ass of yours seemed to wiggle into that daunting skirt. Grazing his thumb over his bottom lip with a smirk, the eager flame in his eyes made his will to take you to a quiet place grow bigger with each step you took.

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The music was getting considerably louder as people were now dancing all over the place, from the staircase to whatever was left of furniture after too many parties hosted in this house.  The constant buzzing sound of chit-chats and laughter was slowly making your head spin as you gulped on your third (or was it the fourth?) Shot of tequila. As expected, Y/BFF/N had wasted no time as she was already clinging to Harrison’s neck, feasting on his mouth like an open buffet. His hands were on her bum, holding on to it for dear life with a strong grip. At least, she was having fun.

Out of boredom and to your own surprise, you had agreed on doing shots with a couple people you knew from class. Not technically what you’d call reliable friends but you always bumped into them at parties where you’d basically chat, and drink. From afar, you could see some people had gathered around a table where Team Jackass had started the inevitable beer pong contest. Nibbling at a piece of lime, hoping it would wash away the burning haze of the tequila, you winced at the sourness as your eyes suddenly locked with Tom’s. He was now holding his arms up on both side, raising one fist through the air as he had clearly won that first round. There was something pathetic about a man in his twenties begging for attention and acting like he was about to claim the gold medal at the Olympics when all he did was throw a feather-weighted plastic ball into a red cup.

All the alcohol in the world would never get you drunk enough to tolerate this guy.

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see him act so pitiful when he face was actually okay. Well. He was definitely cute as long as his mouth was shut and his stupid, pretentious smug out of the way. With his soft, chocolate brown eyes, his tousled eyebrows and thin pink lips, he could’ve been a guy you’d be interested in. His brown hair was somehow, always tucked into a snapback or a beanie but you had caught a glimpse of his natural curls once and though it killed you on the inside to admit it, he did look great when he didn’t try too hard to be a complete asshole.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see him walk towards you.

“We’re doing shots now? “

“Impressive” you frowned, “did you figure it out all by yourself?” you chuckled, swallowing what’s left of lime, basically pulp, in one soft gulp.

“You like to act all smart ass around me, don’t you?”

“Correction: I am, in fact, smart… Not that it’s something you’re familiar with so, pardon me if it’s all too confusing for you… “

“Are you calling me dumb, then?” he was frowning now, his enormous self-centered head deflating under the unexpected pressure of your witty come-back.

“Did you hear the word ‘dumb’ coming out of my mouth?”

“No – but I sure know what I would like to see come in that sweet mouth of yours, darling”

The fact he had the nerves to say that kind of stuff right to your face was enough to piss you off but what caught you off guard was his hand reaching for your face as his thumb delicately grazed your bottom lip, pulling at it just enough for you to taste his fingertip.

“Surely, lime isn’t the only thing you like to suck on?” he smiled, cocky as ever as you could feel actual rage building up from your core and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I suggest you keep your hands off me” you snapped, pushing his hand off your face as he laughed to himself, the raspy sound caught in his throat making you throb against all odds.

“Or what? What you gonna do about it, uh?” he teased, confident as ever, his words coming out of his mouth halfway between a threat and a challenge. His arms were crossed against his chest now, making every inch of muscle he owned just pop out. There was nothing sweet about the way his body was built, and was he ever given the occasion, you knew he could break your spine in half with his one hand. You just wished you’d never thought about it as the filthiest images came to your mind, starting with Tom spinning you around over the sink in the bathroom and pinning you down with his palm pressed between your shoulder blades as he pounded hard and fast into you.

Maybe Tequila had gotten to your head faster than you expected.

“I know girls like you” he started, walking backwards until your back hit the wall and you were completely trapped between his arms, one of his leg parting yours so his knee would slowly graze that spot where your thighs met, claiming his access to that precious part of your body you could definitely feel getting damper against your will.

“What about it?” you asked, slightly more provocative than you had intended.

“You like to act all innocent, pretending you have higher standards…” His breath was warm, wrapped into the thickness of alcohol, curving a ball at the back of his throat so his voice would come out raspier and lower than usual, “… but secretly you just want guys like me to fuck the back of your throat until you choke”.

You felt it. Your pussy throb at the single thought of it. You didn’t want to physically react to these obscene images, words coming out of his mouth filthier than anything you’d ever heard, but still, as hard as you wanted to remain cold and unbothered, there was no denying for the dampness between your thighs. You just hoped he wouldn’t get a chance to notice it.

“You disgust me” it took you all the strength you had to spat back at him, and even then, all he did was smile then chuckle softly to himself as his hand slid up your throat, wrapping it slowly until his thumb pressed itself into the crook under your chin, nesting as it was made to be there.

“Please—are you really going to pretend you’ve never thought about my cock filling up your pretty mouth?” his fingers found your lips again, tracing it slowly as your heartbeat increased with each word, “like you’ve never thought about me when you finger yourself at night” he paused, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head, his mouth coming closer to your hear with a dark whisper “I know you do, baby… I know you touch yourself thinking of me, wishing those fingers were mine, diving into your dripping cunt… Touching spots you could only wish you’d reach… how I would spread those lips open and run my tongue all over your slit….” A warm breeze brushed your neck as a cursed laugh escaped his lips, making you squirm unexpectedly, “I bet you taste so sweet, I would never get enough of that glorious pussy…”

By now, you were wrapped into the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It was strong and manly as expected, yet comforting in a way you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t want to picture yourself wearing that grey hoodie he loved to wear after a game, his perfume raining over your bare chest as you’d lazily ride him on his dorm bed after you’d get bored of whatever movie you’d settled for, pushing your panties to the side as he couldn’t be bothered taking it off completely. You didn’t want to picture him unzipping that same hoodie, palming your boob with one of his strong hands as his mouth sucked on your nipple until your soft, delicate skin turned red from all the biting marks. You didn’t want to feel yourself stretch around his rock-hard cock as he’d lift your legs up to wrap it around his neck, because he’s that kind of jerk who likes to show off even when he’s completely buried inside of you, that kind of complete asshole who loves to remind you just how deep he can go, smirking to himself as he hits your special spot over and over and over…. until you beg for him to stop. That kind of utterly disgusting dickhead who’d never stop, because he knows that, deep down, you just want him to keep going.

“Now you can tell me you’re not already wet… But we both know that’s a lie” he smiled again and as you felt his hand going down, palming you through your top and all the way down to the front of your skirt, you finally decided to come to your senses and grabbed his wrist into your tight fist, stopping him just in time before he’s reached the only approval he truly needed.

“Go to hell, Holland” you snapped, using all of your strength to push him off and walk away.

You didn’t turn back to see him chuckle at the sight of your flushed face.

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The coldness of water came as a shock as you bent over the sink in the bathroom, splashing your face until it didn’t feel like your skin was on fire. Grabbing a towel, you patted your cheeks and forehead, staring at the reflection in front of you. You definitely looked flustered, like you had just run a marathon when all you really did was to suffer through your archenemy’s evil little game.

Usually, you would have just brushed it off and that’d be it. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn’t seem to shake him off your thoughts, his voice still echoing through your head like a curse without a cure. Outside the bathroom, you could hear the muffled sound of music and screams coming from the living room as beer-pong had turned into strip-pong with everyone removing a piece of clothes every time the ball missed the cup. Typical, drunken behavior. Soon enough these parties would turn into a massive orgy and it wouldn’t even come out as a big surprise.

Freshen up a little had helped you settle your thoughts back into place but still, your body didn’t seem to catch a break as the build-up tension and frustration Tom had caused within your core was yet to be released. There was no denying that your toys would have come handy if you were back to your dorm room as it felt like your pussy kept clenching for no reason, like the gaping mouth of the thirstiest man in the middle of a drought. You knew how bad you needed to put it out of its misery but if you thought undressing for a ping pong game was bad, what would happen if anyone walked on you literally fingering yourself in the bathroom of a frat-house? No one would shut up about it.

Tom would certainly not. Shut. Up. About. It. Ever.

You pressed your thighs together, hoping for some sort of relief as his words came back haunting you, thinking about how your hand had found its way between your legs earlier in the shower, the very second you had thought about his body pushing you up against the tiles. Is that what he was to you, now? A fantasy? Would you become another disgusting cliché of a girl begging for the typical frat boy to fuck her at a party because she couldn’t handle his dirty mouth?

Then you thought about your best-friend and how the last time you’d seen her, she was heading upstairs with Harrison, giggling, her lipstick smudged all over her chin after making out heavily on the couch up to the point everyone was starting to wonder whether they should be charged for that kind of peep-show or just roll with it. How she was probably getting fucked in his bedroom while you were standing alone in a bathroom, dripping wet for a man you hated down to the very bottom of your guts.

The door swung open abruptly, making you jump.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding!” Tom smiled, walking in.

“Can’t a girl have some privacy?”

“I need to take a piss, you’re the one standing out there doing nothing” he joked, walking to the toilets with his hands already fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

“Hum, excuse me?” you spat, widening your eyes as you realized he was genuinely about to use the toilets with you still standing a few meters away.

“I said I needed to take a piss… So either you just stand there watching, which I don’t mind really… or you can get out?” he pointed his chin towards the door, unbothered as he casually pulled his dick out of his boxers.

Both infuriated and shocked, you turned around as there was no point leaving the room now that his whole junk was out and already halfway through it.

“Do you have to be that disgusting? Really you’re such a pig!” you complained as you heard him sigh with relief before the toilet flush broke the most awkward silence of your entire existence.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll clean it up real nice just for you…” he smiled even though you still had your back turned to him. You heard him use the tap, washing his hands for a considerably long amount of time. At least he wasn’t one of those filthy rats who thought basic hygiene was optional.

“What were you doing by the way?” he finally asked, grabbing the towel to your left, “touching yourself thinking about me?”

You turned around to face his cocky face once more, this time with a furious need to slap it. Hard.

“You know I’ve seen you walking around campus a couple times, Y/N… Those big jumpers and yoga pants you like to wear don’t do that body any justice, but this?” he circled his finger in the air, pointing out her entire outfit “this, I like to see… and if you weren’t being a little brat I would gladly pull up that skirt up to your waist and have you there, above the sink…”

“I’m being a brat?” you scoffed. That was rich, coming from the ultimate king of bratty assholes.

“Well you call it whatever you like but denying yourself something you truly need just to prove a point seems a little childish…” he shrugged, shoving his hands into this jeans pocket and giving you a perfect glimpse at the veins running up his arms and disappearing underneath his rolled up sleeves.

“You think all girls are begging for you to fuck them? Really?”

“Probably, yeah, and who could blame them really? I have a great cock and I’ve never had a single bad review about the way I use it…” he smiled, with the arrogance of a king sitting on a throne of indecency.

“You’re so full of yourself… it’s insane” you shook your head with pure disgust.

“Then go ahead and prove it”

“Prove what, exactly?”

“That you’re not dripping wet as we speak…”

Point taken.

You were, indeed, dripping wet and soon enough, you’d have some serious explaining to do as the thin cotton fabric of your underwear was now soaked with your unsolicited arousal. Even though your head was filled with hateful thoughts and resentment for Tom, it felt like your body would not stop begging for his touch, dragging him closer like two pieces of magnets on a fridge. Unconsciously, you were now standing a couple inch away from his face, so close you could actually smell the soft mixt of menthol and alcohol from his breath. There was no point denying the obvious tension between you two as you looked like you were about to break into a passionate kiss but now it was just a fight between your will for self-preservation and your body, aching to be touched.

And so you heard yourself say these words you never thought you’d say, like you were standing in the audience as your other self was performing on stage, making some questionable decisions you weren’t 100% okay with.

“Which one’s your bedroom?”

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You could have fought longer, for the sake of your personal values, but as your feet were swiped off the ground, your back hitting the door as it closed behind you with a loud slam, all of your good sense and respectable choices just vanished as much filthier thoughts buried them for good.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands had wasted no time and found their way under your top, fondling your breast with the hunger of a wolf. Your lips attached to his, you moaned louder than expected as he pushed himself a little harder against you, the obvious stiffness of his crotch pressing against your aching core. Your skirt had risen up to your waist from spreading your legs a little too wide, flashing your white panties as it was now so soaked you could definitely see the outline of your lips, the thin fabric sticking to your slit. Catching your breath, heavy pants breaking your kiss, you looked into Tom’s eyes only to see nothing but pure, absolute lust in them. As you tugged at his brown locks, a couple strand curling slightly at the back of his neck, you watched as his snapback fell to the floor with a thump, unleashing his brown untamed mane.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem so bad, groaning slightly as your fingers scrapped the back of his neck, your lips sucking on his throat for good measures. With his head tilted back slightly, it felt like Tom was getting soft for a while, caving in so you could take control over him. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long as he suddenly traced a hand all the way down to your inner thigh, immediately pushing your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“I knew it…” he smiled, sliding his finger along your slit as you wrapped it up with a glistening coat of arousal. You knew he had won the minute he felt just how wet you were for him, but when it should have been upsetting, you just didn’t care. All you needed now was to feel his cock filling you up in any way he wanted, “who made you this wet, darling?” he smiled, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Don’t be a brat…” you complained as you could see some mischief in the way he looked at you.

“Just say it” he insisted “I want to hear you say out loud just how wet I make you” this wasn’t a request, but an order. And for some obscure reason you didn’t want to figure out, it somehow turned you on even more.

“You…” you started, biting your lip out of nerves, or out of excitement, you weren’t sure quite yet. “You make me so wet, Tom” you almost moaned, pushing yourself a little harder against his hand when he failed to give you exactly what you needed. His fingers. Buried deep inside of you.

“Hmm” Tom groaned, two of his digits spreading your lips apart at a torturing slow pace, “I like the sound of that…” his knuckles were barely halfway when you buckled your hips off the door, begging for more, “what’s that darling? Tell me what you want…” he was whispering by now, slowly pushing his fingers into your desperate slit, “I want to hear you beg for it…”

You felt him push deeper, curving his fingers into a hook every time he reached your g-spot. By now you were so aroused you just knew it would take you more than a couple stroke to cum heavily into his awaiting palm. You could hear the sloppy sound of your own wetness every time he slammed his slick, extremely skilled digits back into your throbbing pussy. His lips curved into a hasty smile as he could feel you literally drip all over his palm and wrist.

“I want you… I want you so much” you barely managed to whimper as he increased the pace, his wrist working its magic between your thighs.

“Hmm hmm? I’m gonna need you to be more specific baby… what exactly do you want?” his thumb grazed your clit for a brief second and that was enough for you to squeal under his touch, making you clench suddenly around his fingers, “say you want my cock” he almost growled as you felt his hard-on twitch against your thigh, begging to be freed.

“I want your cock” you immediately wimped, your own words sending shivers down your spine as you twitched with anticipation, “I want it so, so bad…”

“Good girl…” he hummed, slowing down the pace so he could add a third finger, stretching you out slightly this time, “d’you think you can take it though? It’s pretty big…” he smiled, twisting his hand just enough so he could dig himself a path.

You simply nodded, unable to speak anymore, but as you were about to beg for more, Tom removed his hand, leaving you frustrated and hornier than ever. His face changed suddenly as he watched you pout, his hand reaching up for your lips.

“What about that pretty mouth, then? You think it may fit?” he smiled, spreading your lips apart so you could taste yourself on his soaked fingers. You immediately obliged, sucking at it, one by one, never keeping your eyes off him. When he shoved three of his digits, watching as your tongue twirled around it, cleaning it off completely, you could definitely tell his eyes had gotten darker, filled with unspeakable thoughts you would be begging to hear soon.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he added, removing his fingers from your mouth so he could give you a soft, cheeky slap on the cheek. You nodded, obedient as ever. “Say it” he commanded, louder this time, “say you want my cock inside your mouth”.

“I want it… I want your cock inside my mouth” you pouted, only because you knew he loved to see you beg like a spoiled little princess. You’d seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at you every time you tilted your head to fake an innocence that was long gone.

Tom stepped back, walking away slowly as he watched you standing there, flustered, your hair all over the place, panting out of lust and frustration. Pulling his shirt off, you watched as his impressive chest unveiled in front of you. Abs like rocks, a thin strand of hair tracing a path from his navel to his crotch, disappearing under his jeans, his impeccable V-line bringing images you never thought you had within yourself. As he pushed his hair back, daunting you with his a look half way between arrogance and disdain, it felt like all signs of dignity had left your brain as all you could think about was to crawl to the floor and beg for his cock.

“What you’re waiting for then, Darling?” he smiled, unzipping his flies as he watched you walk towards him and get on your knees within seconds.

Your hands pulled at his jeans until it finally pooled around his ankles. Looking up to stare into his eyes, you felt both small and powerful, submissive but in control as you were now responsible for this man pleasure. It was up to you whether he’ll get to cum or not. But as you considered edging him as an option, Tom wasted no time in remembering you who was actually in charge.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he sighed, grabbing your hair into a fist as his other hand stroked his cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers. You could tell he was just horny as you were as a couple pre-cum had already stained his briefs, turning it into a darker shade of grey.

Again, you nodded, removing his hand so you could replace it with yours, palming him through his briefs as he growled against your touch. He was big. Actually much bigger than you expected but somehow, you were up for a challenge. Tracing the outline of his cock with your fingers tips, you felt him push his hands on the back of your head, forcing you to come closer to his crotch.

“I want to fuck your pretty little mouth so, so bad” he groaned as you unexpectedly ran your tongue all over his stiff through the fabric, feeling it twitch as you palmed his balls. By now he was so hard you could feel the veins tracing a dirty road up to his leaking head as Tom started grinding slowly against your mouth, messing up your hair with his desperate fists.

When you pulled down his boxers, you took a couple seconds to stare at his glorious manhood, hard and pressed against his abdomen where it curved slightly, your mouth watering with a thirst you could have never pictured, especially when standing in Tom Holland’s bedroom. And yet, you couldn’t wait to have this magnificent piece of flesh filling up your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tom smirked, boasting as ever but immediately squinting his eyes with a deep growl the minute he felt your tongue licking at the base, slowly going up until you finally bobbed on his creaming head.

You had always been good at this, giving head. Not that all of your partners would give you a proper review in the morning, pointing out your highs and lows, but there were just things men couldn’t do, like hiding the fact they were just having the time of their lives. And right now, Tom actually looked like there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than standing here, with his cock in your mouth.

Twirling your hand at the base where you mouth couldn’t go just yet, you started bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking your cheeks in so your mouth would pop every time his dick came out. You had quickly figured out a couple things about Tom, including the fact he just seemed to love it dirty and noisy. You could actually hear him growl louder, his fist tightening its grip into your hair every time he slipped off your lips, only for him to shove it back a little harder and definitely deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it baby… Just like that… you’re such a good girl…”

You were a good girl, indeed. Always had been. Straight-A’s student from day one, the pride and joy of your parents, spending most of your week-ends doing some volunteer work whenever it was needed while being a caring, polite girl who never did anything wrong. Right choices only.

Or so you thought. Obviously, tonight would be always marked as the only questionable decision on your impeccable path to perfection. But still, as Tom grabbed your face with both hands to push himself deeper and all the way down your throat, making you gasp for air slightly, you had no regrets.

You stayed still for as long as your lungs could handle it, holding on to his firm, muscular buttocks as you swallowed him all. Looking down on you, Tom was left speechless as his cock stretched your cheeks out, his balls resting into your palm as you twitched them slowly, making it jolt with both pain and pleasure. When you felt like you were about to gag, you pushed yourself back, gasping for air as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt numb and yet it missed the feeling of being stretched out already.

“Hmmm baby look at you…. you think you’re ready for it?”

“Yeah” was all you could blurt out. Yes to anything he wanted. You were prepared. You longed for it.

Looking around as Tom started pumping himself, getting ready for you, spitting into his palm to lube himself up so your lips wouldn’t drag along his shaft too much, you just couldn’t believe you were there, kneeling on the navy carpet of Tom Holland’s bedroom, the epitome of the ultimate frat boy. A huge flag from his favorite sports team was hanging above his bed, his never-ending hats collection sitting on wooden shelves by the wall like it was some kind of “frat boy starter pack” Art exhibition. In the corner of the room, you caught an unexpected glimpse at a guitar. It looked fairly new, but never in a million years would you have pictured Tom playing guitar. On his desk, his laptop was still open on a Spotify tab where you’d probably find a playlist based on some typical white boy rap music but against all odds, the room looked neat compared to what you had in mind.

“You look so beautiful” he sighed, out of nowhere, and to be completely honest, had your mouth not been filled with his dick, you would have probably picked up your jaw from the floor. Taking him all in once more, you just pretended you couldn’t hear, sparing you some awkward misunderstanding. Maybe those words were actually directed to his dick. After all, the boy loved himself just that much.

His hands were all over your face, wiping tears from your eyes every time he hit the back of your throat a little too hard, stroking your cheeks, massaging the back of your neck, roaming through your tangled hair as your kept up with his reckless pace, his hips swinging back and forth while you remained completely still so you could take him like a champ.

“God, I love to see you choke on my cock….” He gritted through his teeth “so…so hot…” you could tell he was getting sloppier now, pumping in and out of your mouth abruptly then a lot more slower as a couple twitch from his cock gave you a hint of his upcoming grand finale.

By now, you were a slippery mess, the taste of pre-cum hitting your throat as you dribbled all over his shaft, obscene sounds of suction coming out of your mouth every time he pushed himself out and back in all over again.

“F----uuuuck….fuck baby I’m gonna come!” he grunted, the sudden high-pitch of his broken voice driving you insane as you pushed yourself up a little so you could open your mouth wider, expecting him to fill it up soon enough. “D’you want me to cum in your mouth? Uh?” again, he gave you a little slap on the cheek, not quite hard enough for you to feel any pain. You nodded, moaning whatever came close to a “yes” as every single inch of your mouth was filled with Tom.

You heard him whimper, twitching a couple times, harder with his thrust as his hand fisted into your hair abruptly throughout his climax. Looking up to see his face, your eyes locked with his as he came all over your tongue, raining down your throat with a couple last, sloppy thrusts.

“Oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuuu------“

Your eyes immediately teared up as you tried your best to swallow every drop of cum he had to give, the corner of your lips dripping like an overflowing sink.

Then there was a complete silence.

As you wiped your mouth off the thick, warmness of his cum, you felt him kneel to your side, then sit. Both of you looked completely exhausted, drained from every ounce of energy you had left.

“Well, that wasn’t half bad… for a little brat” he spoke again, and you just couldn’t believe he had gathered the energy to say this when he could have chosen silence.

Laughing quietly to yourself so you wouldn’t slap him across the face, you decided not to fuel him up and remained quiet instead. His hair had gone curlier than heaver, his glistening red face making him look like any cute boy you could easily fall for.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna see a lot more of you at frat parties now?” he spoke again, and though it truly pissed you off to admit it, you just knew this wasn’t a one-time thing. For all you knew, this, was barely a prequel to a long, bumpy story of a good girl gone bad.

All because of Tom-fucking-Holland.

[supercorpkid]

Aftermath.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader.

Word count: 2290.

It’s been an entire week since Lena’s been home. You want to pretend that you’re fine about it, but this is insane. It’s insane, right? You had a really crazy and terrible experience involving none other than Lex freaking Luthor (who’s currently still chilling in his prison cell, probably planning other insane things), and your moms are fighting over Rao knows what.

You’ve been sad all week. And guilty. There’s no amount of ‘this isn’t your fault’ that makes this feeling go away. You just wish you could remember what happened, or at least that you could do something about it. You feel like you’re stuck inside a storm. Waiting for things to just get better already, but everyday you wake up, the sky is grey and your family is broken apart.

You hate how Kara says ‘Lena’, with guilt and pain in her voice. You hate how her eyes are constantly filled with tears. You hate when she says stuff like ‘let’s do things we never got to do’, and eats ice-cream at midnight while watching sad movies, unable to pretend she is unaffected by the whole thing. She should at least fake it, shouldn’t she?

You hate how Lena simply refuses to ask about Kara, even though you can see it in her face that she’s dying to know. You hate that she’s throwing herself into work in a non-healthy way. You hate when she pretends she’s not at all hurt and she just tries to be nonchalant about the fact that she’s not home. She should at least show you that she cares, shouldn’t she?

But the thing that you hate the most is the fact the none of them tell you anything other than that it’s not your fault. You just don’t know what started it all, how bad is it, and how long this is going to last. One thing you know for sure is that this can’t last forever. You can’t handle it.

“Hey.” Maya shakes her hand in front of your face, trying to get you to focus on her. “You cool? You’ve been acting kinda weird all week…” She nuzzles her nose in the crook of your neck, breathing deep. “And I miss your pretty smile.”

“Sorry. Just, um, things are weird at home.” But you still bring her closer hooking one arm around her back.

“I knew this day was coming.” Jamie says, sitting in front of you, on your lunch table. “It was too many ‘almost’. I knew one day you would catch your moms having sex.”

“I wish.” You whisper and they both furrow their brows at you. “I mean, I don’t. Definitely don’t want to see that, but it’s better than where they are right now.”

“They’re fighting? Wanna make them a romantic dinner again?” Jamie asks with a smile and you roll your eyes thinking about the last time you got involved. Things did not end up well.

“They are not.” You sigh. “They had a fight I know nothing about.” You raise one eyebrow at Jamie, who quickly put things together. “Then, Lena never came back home, and she’s staying in a hotel, so-”

“Holy fuck, babe.” Maya straightens up right away to look at you. “That’s messed up. I’m so sorry.”

“They’ll be fine.” Jamie dismisses both of you with her hand. “Honestly, your moms are so in love with each other. And besides, haven’t they gone through, like, way worse stuff in their relationship and totally got over it?”

“I guess.” You shrug, still not convinced. She’s right, they have. But you were never in the middle. “But I can’t shake the feeling that it was my fault.”

“You can’t make two people fight and don’t remember.” Maya says trying to ease your mind, unaware that in your life that’s actually more common than she would think.

“It’ll be fine.” Jamie ends the subject, so none of you spill important information and you try to distract yourself.

You fail.

“Hey, do you want to work on your robotics project today?” Maya asks and you furrow your brows. Wow, you didn’t even remember you had that going on in your life. “It could help you take your mind off… You know.”

Moms fighting and maybe never getting back together? Yeah, you don’t think so.

“Um… Maybe next week.” You shrug. “There’s still time.”

“Well, then maybe we could go to my house and play video game.” Jamie suggests looking at Maya, who shakes her head agreeing. “You can show Maya that game you made.”

“Sounds fun, but I’m really not in the mood.” You sigh and look at them staring at each other, trying to come up with something else. You give them a little smile. “Really guys, I’m fine. I just want to go home and chill with Kara a little. I feel like she needs me.”

“Ok, babe.” Maya kisses your cheek lightly and whispers. “I’m here. You can talk to me if you want, or not talk. I’m still here, ok?”

“Thanks babe.” You smile at her, and then at Jamie on the other side.

“Whatever it’s best for you, little Danvers.” Jamie adds.

Nothing is best for you right now. Except Kara and Lena’s happiness.

And they are definitely not happy. There’s no amount of ‘let’s fly around the house’, ‘let’s build something together in your lab’, from any of them that can fake that. And so if they’re not happy, you are in the same situation.

“You have to clean your bedroom.” Kara says when she opens the door, at night, and you look up from your books. “An alien could be hiding under that absurd amount of clothes in the corner, and you would never know.”

“Let it have a home.” You shrug.

“No, no ‘let it’. Baby.” Kara comes close and holds your hands. “I know you miss your mom, but there’s no reason why we will just stop doing stuff we normally do because of that.”

Tell that to all the showers you’ve been skipping since she was gone. Tell that to the meals you have been skipping all week. Tell that to your sad face.

“So, your bedroom is tidy and clean?” You raise an eyebrow and she lets out a chuckle.

“I love you. Did you know that?” She kisses your hand and smiles. “I’m so glad you exist.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately. Maybe you miss saying that to someone else?” You raise one eyebrow at her, and she gives you an extremely sad smile.

“Same eyebrows move.” She winks at you and you know she’s talking about Lena and how this is literally her move. “Come on, let’s eat something. And you can clean your room before bed.”

“How do you feel having to tell me to clean my room?” You ask, following her to the kitchen and she laughs.

“Like a mother.” She smiles harder at that, and you roll your eyes. She’s such a dork.

Kara goes through the cabinets and fridge to find out that if you two were in an apocalyptic situation, you wouldn’t survive a day with the food in your house. She promises she’ll go grocery shopping the next day (which you only half believe), and you both decide to go with instant noodles.

“So, um, mom texted and she asked me if I wanted to go spend the night at the hotel with her.” You tell Kara while she looks at the boiling water with puzzling eyes. “I don’t want to leave you alone, but I kind of feel sad that she’s all alone there too, and like-”

“You should go.” Kara cuts you off, still interested in the pot in front of her. “Do we put it on now?”

“Are you seriously asking me how to make instant noodles?” You smile, rolling your eyes playfully. “Scootch.” You bump your hips on hers, and take control. “So, you’re going to be fine here alone?”

“Of course!” Kara smiles and you look at her to see how real she’s being. You look for any signs of her sadness being too much. You look for watery eyes, pouts, anything. “It’s one night. I’m not a toddler, I can go one night alone.”

“Well…” you think about making fun of her, but you bite your tongue. “I just want to make sure you won’t go ‘sad burrito’ on the couch.”

“I won’t go ‘sad burrito’.” She promises. “I might wrap myself and blankets to watch TV, but I promise not to be sad about it.”

“Maybe you should go to aunt Alex’s house.” You say, and Kara holds your face between her hands, squeezing it gently.

“I’ll be fine. Go see Lena. You know that if she asked for it, she really needs you.” Kara kisses your forehead. “Go give her some love.”

“You can come too…” You raise your eyebrows a few times, but stop when you see Kara’s sad expression. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, sunflower.”

“See you tomorrow, little one.” Kara smiles. You hesitate, looking behind you a few times, but Kara shoos you with her hands, so you fly off to Lena’s hotel.

Talk about weird! Lena living in a hotel room it’s the definition of ‘something is wrong with the world’.

“That’s, um, nice.” You say, when you go inside the room and Lena chuckles, wrapping her arms around you, and kissing the top of your head.

“It’s temporary. I didn’t have time to look for a real place.” She gives you a smile, and strokes your cheek gently while fully analyzing you. “Have you lost weight?”

“Unlikely.” It’s your answer, but it’s a lie. You probably did lose some weight, since Kara simply forgets to eat, and she’s surviving on ice-cream and whatever is left in the fridge for a week. And you just don’t want to bother her with the fact that you need to eat, because you’re a freaking alien and you eat like one.

It doesn’t matter what you say anyway, because Lena knows the truth, so she is definitely ignoring you and calling for room service. She orders so much food, you have to tell her to stop. You! Of all people!

“So-” She lets out, like a breath, while sitting on the couch next to you, and wrapping her arms around your shoulders. “How are you?”

“Scared.” You fall further into her comfort, and breathe in her familiar smell. Home and flowers. “I don’t want our lives to be like this from now on. I-I know it’s my fault-”

“Not your fault.” She interrupts you. But it doesn’t matter, because you don’t believe her.

“Tell me how I can make things better. Tell me how I can fix this.” You ask, and Lena tights the hug kissing your head a couple of times.

“My baby.” She sounds like she’s about to cry, and you’re already too far gone. Tears streaming down your face non-stop. “Stop taking everything upon your hands. This problem is not yours to fix. And you have done nothing wrong to have to make things better.”

“I think you’re forgetting that I burned my training center to the ground?” You look back at her, and she cleans your tears. And then hers.

“That wasn’t you. You know that damn well.” Lena says with a serious expression. “Lex was responsible for all of that. And now you’re back, and you have nothing to worry about, ok?”

“But mom, if Lex knows he can use me, won’t he try that again? And maybe be more successful this time?”

“Remember when I believed your thoughts blocker was a mind wiper?” She asks, making you agree with your head. “Turns out, it could be a mind wiper with a few changes. So, I did them, and now he doesn’t even remember you.” She smiles softly. “You’re safe now. He won’t do that again. And if he ever tries anything, your momma and I will stop him, ok?”

“How did he know about me in the first place?”

“Lillian. But she won’t talk about you with him ever again.”

“Did you make her forget about me too?” You ask, almost sad about it. You don’t want Lillian to forget about you. You like seeing her eventually, and she’s being so nice lately.

“No, baby. She wouldn’t do anything that could harm you.” Lena says with a smile, putting your hair behind your ears, and you furrow your eyebrows at her. “Lillian has done a lot of terrible things, but none of them it’s destroying the family name. And you, babygirl, might be a kryptonian, but you’re also a Luthor.”

“So, you trust her?”

“Well, she has proven herself in the last few days, so… With you? Yes.” That makes you smile a little, and when you hear a knock on the door and you see food on the other side of it, that makes you smile even more.

Staying with Lena one night is not enough. You can see it on her face that she needs more than that. But when you fly back home in the morning to get ready for school, and you find Kara sleeping on the couch, all wrapped up in blankets definitely looking like a ‘sad burrito’, you know she can’t be alone either.

You wish you could divide yourself in two and be with them all the time. You wish they would just talk. And you wish you could turn back time and undo whatever mess you made while you were mind controlled. But you can’t do either. So, you just hope that what you can do for now is enough. And you pray to Rao this storm ends sooner than later.

[dimitrescus-bitch]

New York City Standard (Veronica Lodge x Reader)

“Hermione, thank you so much for inviting to come and stay with you. Riverdale is an absolutely charming little town,” you thanked your exgirlfriend’s mother. Technically, you and Veronica had never broken up when she left New York, but she had essentially stopped talking to you. You understand that it was hard for her, but now that her father was out of the picture once again, things should have been easier for the two of you to rekindle what you had before. 

“The pleasure is mine. It’s been far too long dear. How have you been?” Hermione asked you. She had always liked you. Hiram, on the other hand, hated you and the fact that your ambitions didn’t necessarily benefit your family’s business. You were your own person and you’d definitely influenced Veronica a bit to seek out her own path, which he hated. 

“Very well. I’ve been accepted into Columbia for a pre-law program and if all goes well with that, I’ll have my choice at a number of ivy leagues for an official law program,” you told her. “Has Veronica mentioned college?” 

“She has been a bit reluctant to speak with me lately. I’m hoping that you will remind her of a better time.” Hermione led you through their home and knocked on a door. “Mija, you have a visitor.” 

“Okay, just a second!” Veronica called back. Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice, a sense of nostalgia taking over. You smiled a little as Hermione walked away and you were left standing in front of Veronica’s door. She opened it up and paused for a moment, almost as if she couldn’t believe that you were standing in front of her. “Y/n?” 

“Hello Veronica, may I come in?” you asked and Veronica stepped aside. You noticed two people sitting in her bed, a boy on her bed and a girl sitting hunched over a book. 

“Um, guys this is Y/n Y/l/n, she was my best friend in New York. Y/n, this is Betty and my boyfriend, Archie,” Veronica introduced you. You offered both of them smiles, even as they both eyed you suspiciously. “She’s nothing like Nick. In fact, she probably hates him more than anyone else.” 

“Veronica, I see that you’re busy, but when you’re free, I’d love to go to dinner. It’s been far too long since we’ve had quality time, lovely.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of Veronica’s mouth. “It was nice to meet the two of you. Hopefully, we will become better acquainted during my visit.” 

“How long are you staying?” Veronica asked you and you shrugged. 

“I don’t really know yet, but hopefully by the time I leave, we’ll have arrangements for you to come into the city with me. It’s been horribly boring without you.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“You know, Archie is suspicious of your intentions being here,” Veronica said as the two of you sat in her living room having some drinks. “He thinks you’re here to steal me away from him.” 

“Technically, he’s the thief. We never really broke up, you just stopped answering,” you pointed out. Veronica looked down, guilt evident on her face. “I’m not mad though, that was a whole shit show of a situation. I also didn’t really expect for you to be that into me.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I was always like your little show pony. The progressive streak to distract from the fact that everybody assumed your family was corrupt. They don’t care about embezzling whenever the golden daughter is dating the troubled black sheep from the business rival family. It’s a miracle that your dad didn’t try to have me whacked or something after he caught us kissing.” 

“Too obvious, and he wasn’t the only one who saw that,” Veronica told you. You sighed as you took a sip of your drink before setting it down on the table. “Besides, where is your evidence I didn’t beg him not to kill you? I meant it when I told you that I love you Y/n.” 

“Yeah, but if you said it again, would you still mean it?” you asked her. Veronica sighed and you laughed at her. 

“What’s funny?” Veronica asked you. 

“The golden boy found the golden girl. You’re just golden by New York City Standards. He’d crumble against the concrete if you weren’t behind him.” 

“And let me guess, you’d soar from building top to building top?” 

“Damn right Lodge.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Why is she still here?” Archie asked as you walked into Pop’s. “Veronica, you said she went back to the city Friday.” 

“She did, I watched her plane take off,” Veronica promised him. She was puzzled as to why you were there, but the second she saw the familiar mauve box in your hands, she knew what was going on. “You’re a character, you know.” 

“I’ve been told, but you wouldn’t refuse the best pastry in New York City, would you?” You held the box out towards Veronica. She took it from you and nodded at the empty spot in the booth across from her and Archie. “Afternoon Andrews.” 

“We’re sort of on a date here, if you don’t mind,” Archie said, his voice sounding agitated. 

“Oh no, I don’t mind one bit,” you laughed melodically. Archie muttered something under his breath and Veronica smiled as she saw the heart shaped scone. “I would have brought you coffee, but it would have gone cold. I dropped grounds off at your house though on my way here.” 

“Of course you did,” Archie scoffed. “You know that you can’t win her by buying her love. Maybe you could have before, but not anymore.” 

“I am not trying to buy her love Andrews. I’m giving a gift to my best friend. She doesn’t get to the city very often and I know that this place is her favorite. I’m sure if you were moved away from your home, you’d want someone to bring you Pop’s?” 

“Let’s go Veronica.” Archie got out of the booth and you set the money for his order on the table. 

“It’s on me, sorry for ruining your meal. Veronica, I assure you it’s not what I mean to do,” you promised her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“You really are an asshole,” Veronica said as she caught you coming out of your hotel. “Archie is nice and I was happy before you showed up.” 

“Veronica, I’m sorry. I really am,” you told her. She grabbed your arm and tugged you away from your cab. “I’ve got a plane to catch.” 

“Is there room for one more?” Veronica asked you. “I want to go with you to the city. Even if it’s just for a little bit, I miss it. This place has made me soft. I’m not up to standard.” 

“Maybe you were always a bit soft and that’s why I liked you,” you suggested. “Maybe you could make me soft and that’s why I fell in love with you.” 

“Then, let me come with you for your sake,” Veronica offered. You nodded and opened the car door for her. 

“About your boyfriend?” you asked Veronica as you turned your head to look at her. 

“He hasn’t been my boyfriend since you crashed our date. Jughead is dealing with that aftermath and Betty’s just telling me not to screw this up too badly a second time,” Veronica said and you smiled a little. “I think she liked you too.” 

“So, when you find yourself coming back here, I’m allowed to call and visit you?” you asked and Veronica nodded. “Good.” 

Taglist: @storiesofsvu​ @xixxiixx​

[tennessoui]

The divorced fic was so cute i want to scream. Does Obi have any time to be sad or are Anakin and his little demons always there to distract him from his infinite sadness

so i know most everyone wants to know what anakin does about The Kiss but here's a bit of light hearted angst a year before that (because humanity is inherently whatever but i am inherently evil)

aka

the immediate aftermath of the Router Incident (1.4k)

The night of the day of what will come to be known as The Router Incident starts off with a bang.

Obi-Wan gets home a bit later than normal. Not because his work drags on longer than usual, but because he is, on the subject of all things even passably related to his personal life, a coward.

It’s been at least ten hours since he left the house with the goddamn wifi router tucked under his arm because Anakin had said something about finding a new place.

As if this isn’t the twenty-first century. As if Anakin doesn’t have a phone with unlimited data. As if Anakin isn’t the sort of person to walk five miles to the nearest coffeeshop with his kids in their stroller, just to use their wifi to email Obi-Wan a series of italicized question marks.

Obi-Wan’s been practicing his apology ever since he got that email. I’m really sorry, I promise I’m not a controlling megalomaniac. I just panicked because I’m not that good at letting go of things. You’d think I’d have learned by now, but apparently I only know how to dig my heels in whenever I think people are starting to pull away. Apologies again, life is not a game of tug-of-war, and I promise I do know that.

He practices his apology, of course, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t also try to put it off until the last possible moment. When he leaves the building, his car is the only one still in the lot.

I’m really sorry. Here’s the router back. I support your decision. Your kids will be great. I know you probably won’t let them see me, because that’s a bit weird if we don’t all live together, and you also don’t use social media, which is great because I also don’t use social media, but I would have made a Facebook account just to keep up with your family. It’s meant more than I can say to have something to come home to this past year, and I understand that you can’t put your life on hold for a lonely old man like me, and I will endeavor from now on to not impede your search for a new place to live.

No, too needy, he thinks at a red light, dragging his hand over his beard in defeat. He won’t beg Anakin to stay.

He would very much like to beg Anakin to stay, but he hadn’t even begged Satine to stay, and he had been in love with her.

He just enjoys Anakin’s company. His presence. Unwinding next to Anakin after a difficult day teaching is one of the things he looks forward to the most.

And this past holiday season, they’d had a big dinner at his house, filled to the brim with Anakin’s friends and his friends and some people from the local grocery store they’d met when out shopping together, and it had been so loud and so amazing. Nothing had been left untouched, there had been food on the ceiling (Obi-Wan suspects Leia to this day, but Luke had confessed), there had been leftovers for days.

You can’t just give me holidays like that and then take them away, Obi-Wan thinks angrily as he turns into his neighborhood. What will I do next winter, then?

He has to sit in his car for a second after parking, just to calm down. He’s the one in the wrong, he reminds himself. Anakin has all the right in the world to want to leave. It was never Obi-Wan’s family to begin with.

It was never Obi-Wan’s family to begin with.

When he opens the door, he’s met with the sound of children screaming and crying.

Luke rushes at him and jumps on him with enough force that he reels backwards, almost out of the house. He drops his bag on the floor in order to steady the child.

Luke is bawling his head off right next to Obi-Wan’s ear so it’s very, very difficult to hear what a red-faced Anakin is trying to say.

And then Leia runs up to him, tugs at his free hand until he looks down at her, and then stomps her little foot with a scowl. “I hate you!” she declares just as loudly as Luke is crying, before her tiny face breaks into tears and she runs off.

“Oh, for the love of--” Anakin shouts, throwing his hands up in the air and chasing after his daughter.

Obi-Wan, ridiculously hurt beyond measure and without a clue about what’s happening, goes to sit down on the couch, still gently cradling Luke’s body to his as the boy continues to weep.

“Hush,” he says soothingly. “And, ah. Please tell me what’s gotten into the Skywalkers now.”

Luke only sniffles and rubs his snotty nose all over Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

Well. It’s laundry day tomorrow anyway.

“Daddy says you hate us,” Luke mumbles, just as Anakin comes back into the living room, notably sans Leia.

Obi-Wan feels his mouth fall open in shock. “Daddy says what?” he asks, very slowly, making dangerous eye contact with Anakin over the top of Luke’s blond head.

Anakin flushes an even darker shade of red and looks around the room, as if that’ll save him.

“Daddy says we gotta go because this is your house and we don’t wanna stay over our, um. Welcome. We can’t reproach on your space, which means you hate us.”

“Encroach,” Anakin corrects, which Obi-Wan does not think is the thing that really needs to be corrected. When he tries to communicate this with his eyes, Anakin gulps and says quite quickly, “I’m gonna go check on Leia actually.”

Coward.

“Luke,” Obi-Wan says gently. “Your daddy is just being very, very dumb, a trait I pray with all my heart skips a generation.”

Luke blinks at him, his little eyebrows furrowed and his button nose bright red from all of his crying.

“I don’t hate you at all,” Obi-Wan says. “I love both you and your sister very much.”

“Then why do we gotta leave?” Luke complains. “I don’t want to go, we could never play Space Pirates and Lava Dragons at the old place, it was way too small.”

Obi-Wan thinks privately that his house, while certainly big enough, is by no means the proper size for how rambunctious the twins get when they’re playing Space Pirates and Lava Dragons.

“Well,” Obi-Wan hums consideringly. “I don’t want you to leave either.”

“You don’t?” Luke asks, eyes wide and hopeful.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “I really don’t. But it’s not my decision to make, Luke.”

“It’s Daddy’s,” Luke concludes, head hanging low. “And Daddy wants to go.”

Obi-Wan ignores the way that sentence drives what feels like a knife straight through his heart. “Yes, well,” he coughs. “Your daddy won’t do anything he knows you and your sister really don’t want.”

Luke looks contemplative. Obi-Wan wonders if he should feel really bad or downright awful for manipulating a child in this way. But needs must.

“And he won’t listen to me,” he continues gently, smoothing down the front ends of the boy’s soft hair. “Because your daddy can be very stubborn when he thinks he’s doing something right.”

“He’ll listen to me and Leia though?” Luke asks, head cocked and eyes bright.

Obi-Wan nods very seriously. “I think he would if you both asked very nicely and thought about a lot of good reasons why you should stay here.”

“I can think of loads! And Leia can think of a ton more probably!” Luke exclaims with renewed energy, launching himself off of Obi-Wan’s lap and up the stairs, ostensibly to their shared bedroom.

Obi-Wan leans back against the couch, equal parts amused, exhausted, and hurt. He’ll need to have a serious talk with Anakin soon. He’d thought the man knew that his home was his as well. Yes, Anakin still paid rent, an unfortunate but necessary sort of system, but they’ve never been normal roommates. And Anakin isn’t a guest who could overstay his welcome.

He’s. Well.

Obi-Wan doesn’t know exactly what Anakin is to him, but he had hoped it was obvious to Anakin at least that Obi-Wan would not ever grow tired of his presence in his life.

So they do have some things to talk about.

But hopefully this means that Obi-Wan won’t actually have to apologize for the router incident, seeing as Anakin’s fuck-up caused much larger waves.

[zukuist]

confetti

“todoroki experiences a difficult time when it comes to getting out chunks of confetti, and luckily- you’re there to provide him some aid.”

 @/gingerbreadmonster said: “congratulations on 100!!! 🎉🎊🎉🎊 i only found your blog recently but i really love your writing and you deserve all that and more 😍 may i please request "can we stay like this?" + todoroki shoto for your drabble prompts? 💕💕💕 (idk how you like your reqs formatted so it's cool if it's not your thing!)”

includes: todoroki shouto (x reader)

your name is shortened to y/n, a gender neutral reader, lowercase intended.

warnings: none, honestly really fluffy

notes: LMAO so i accidentally posted my draft summary, where the original concept was scraped so.. sorry about that. advanced happy birthday to candy cane boy :))

---

todoroki sighs when he catches a glimpse of his reflection on his phone, an assort of glitters and gold pieces of confetti liter the contrasting colors of his hair. it is the result from something called a ‘surprise birthday party’

he stands on the sidelines of the common room, as everyone had returned to their room, or they had indulged in their own thing. he just got up to get a glass of water, but he ended up staring at the aftermath of the small birthday party that was thrown by the class.

it’s pretty evident from the looks of the slightly eaten birthday cake that sits on the kitchen isle, and the empty ceramic cups that sit on the dryer. he huffs in mild annoyance, attempting to clear out the glitter and confetti by brushing his soft locks, but it feels like the pile is just never ending.

he might need to wash his hair after this..

“todoroki?” he hears a familiar voice call out to him in a hush like voice, and he whips his head back to meet gazes with you. “are you okay? you were staring at the microwave for a while”

his stomach is tickled with that feeling again, and he doesn’t pay too much attention to your observation. he doesn’t know what that feeling is really, as he’s only felt it one time, and that one time being around you.

“i'm fine,” he automatically responses to your question, “what are you doing down here?”

“i actually left something on the couch, earlier” you smile, “but i saw you just staring at the microwave for a pretty long time.”  

you’re happy to see the corner of his lips slightly turn up, and he brings a hand up to his head, but his brows furrowed when he can’t seem to get out the confetti that litters in that one particular spot on his head.

“is it the confetti?” you ask, and you just never cease to amaze him with the fact that you could just read him so well.

he can only nod, as he tries to brush out the stubborn confetti once again, “it’s not really getting out.”

you’re quite silent, and you tilt your head to get a better view of his hair. it looks quite soft, and you want to touch it, in all honesty. but that’s not the entire point. maybe he might need some assistance.

“how about you sit down over there, todoroki? i’ll try to pick it out for you- i mean, if you want me to.” you try not to sound overly eager about.. picking out confetti out of his hair, but todoroki doesn’t really seem to care about what you’re implying.

it feels like his heart’s skipping multiple beats.

he can only nod, and you smile- pulling a chair, and you cringe slightly from the way it scratches against the floor. todoroki sits himself down, making himself comfortable since it feels like he’ll be there for a while, based off what he saw in his phone’s reflection.

he finds himself enjoying the way your fingers weave through his hair, picking off the confetti- and brushing it off his head. you lean forward onto the wooden chair,  as an attempt to grapes a clearer view of his scalp,  and there’s a lot more glitter than you ever thought there would be.

you end up plucking a larger chunk of confetti harsher than you wanted, and you can see the way his face contorts in mild pain. “ah, sorry. didn’t mean to tug your hair.”

he only stares at you, and you ignore how your heart flutters at the sight of him staring at you.

you tilt forward to brush off the glitter particles off his silky milk white hair. you take a look on how his hair looks a lot clearer than it did earlier, and even with the confetti and glitter- his hair was still as luscious as ever.

but then you realized you were lingering on your thoughts a little too long. you shake you head and continue intertwining your fingers through his hair.

you make a decision to start making small talk, the silence was almost too loud for comfort. “so, did you enjoy your birthday?”

todoroki thinks. his day wasn’t really too spectacular. he called his mom in the morning, went on his day like usual, and came back to a surprise at the height alliance.

todoroki feels like the day hasn’t really concluded though, “i suppose i did. it was really any other day though.”

“hm, but being a year older is special!” you chortle, and he can only stare amused with your light hearted reactions.

it dawns on him that you’re quite close to his face. his eyes are transfixed on your expression, and you’re so focused with your task, your tongue slightly peeking out and onto your bottom lip, and you continue to brush particles off his hair.

it’s becoming quite captivating.

“it seems to be that i’ve gotten all of them,” you huff, and leave momentarily to search for a dustpan to sweep away the fallout, and discard in the trash bin.

todoroki runs his hand through his hair, and he can no longer feel that unsatisfying feeling of glitter chunks, and confetti pieces sticking out of his hair, it’s cleared him of that sort of trouble.

“anyways, happy birthday again, todoroki. i hope whatever you wished for on your birthday comes true!” you lean forward, brushing his hair again, before patting his shoulder. you move to retreat back up to your room.

but there’s one last thing he’d like to do before the day concludes officially.

“wait,” todoroki calls out to you, and he tugs on your wrist and pulls you down with him onto the wooden chair. he doesn't seem to care about the fact that the both of you guys are so close to each other.

your mouth is slightly agape, shocked by the suddenly action, but you’re left just staring at his dashing good looks. the contrast of both of his eyes colors are beautiful, even under the artificial lighting of the kitchen.

“i.. honestly wished for you to be with me,” he hates how he said it, so he looks away from your appalled gaze for a split second, “will you?”

oh.

how could you even say no to him? before you could process it properly- your lips press against his. it’s a chaste kiss, but it feels so warm, and delightful. how you always imagined what kissing todoroki shouto would feel like.

he smiles when the kiss is broke off, “can we stay like this? even if it’s just for a little bit longer?”

and how could you say no to him? it is what the birthday boy wishes after all.

---

©️ izukulie 2021, bnha|mha belongs to horikoshi kohei. do not steal

word count will be added soon.

[thisnoodlewritesao3]

Regrets | Yamaguchi Tadashi/Reader

Characters: Reader, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tsukishima Kei. Mentioned: Hinata Shoyo, Kageyama Tobio, Oikawa Tooru, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Tendou Satori

Pairings: Tsukishima Kei/Reader, Yamaguchi Tadashi/Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentioned emotional abuse, swearing (lmk if I missed anything)

Word Count: 2560

Summary: After the downfall of your relationship with Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi stays behind to pick up the pieces.

A/N: Look, I know I haven't posted in a while, and this isn't the ONE THING I NEED TO POST. But that will be done soon. I was having issues with google docs, and anxiety, and AAAAAAH but! we will be back to our regularly scheduled nonsense soon hehe. Anyway, have some pain. Also! Big thank you to @pies-writes-and-more for briefly Beta-Reading and then I went off on one hehe. Sowwy

--------

There are a few things you know, for certain, in this world: love is a fickle thing, pizza is the most comforting food, and Yamaguchi Tadashi had done few things wrong in his life.

And yet here you sit, with your back pressed against your bedroom door and knees pulled close to your chest, tears stinging your cheeks with such aggression you briefly fear they might be acid. He’s on the other side of the door, probably in a similar position, mumbling his most sincere apologies for your current heart ache.

But why?

You ask yourself this so often when it comes to him. Why is he always the first to apologise? Why is he apologising to begin with? This wasn’t his issue. It didn’t matter what you said, he would still apologise, because that’s just how Yamaguchi Tadashi was.

Sure, he had his behind-your-back snarky remarks and that mischievous giggle you’d hear when he was around. But on the inside, oh so deep inside, he was just as weak and as vulnerable as you were.

You knew it wasn’t his fault, yet you couldn’t stop the words flowing from your lips.

I wish I’d never met you.

You don’t mean it. Not really. Well, it was more like you wished he’d never introduced you to him. According to him, he’d wanted you to be his little secret for just a little while longer. So he could protect you for just some more time. But as fickle as love is, so was that.

You can still remember, clear as day, the night you’d met Yamaguchi.

He was walking outside your family restaurant with two other first year boys. Just outside of the front was yet another ever so loud “conversation” between Aoba Johsai’s pretty boy - Oikawa Tooru - and Shiratorizawa’s powerhouse - Ushijima Wakatoshi. The resident redhead who’d often stop by your restaurant with soft apologies and sorrowful gaze - Tendou Satori - was cringing behind Ushijima. If it hadn't been for the surprise visit of Yamaguchi and his first year friends, you might never have gotten rid of the pair that night.

They didn’t say much, but the tall first year with the black hair seemed to piss off Oikawa enough to make him leave. And - for whatever reason - Ushijima was either intimidated or annoyed by the smaller first year with vibrant orange hair.

As Tendou apologised, you locked eyes with Yamaguchi. To say the rest was history would be the easy thing to say. But you weren’t too good at doing things easily.

It was too often you’d see this particular green haired boy appear in your restaurant, looking a little intimidated, but elated nonetheless.

You’d entertain him with small conversation about your life and about his. For whatever reason, time seemed to pass by so easily when he was around. The two of you clicked well, sharing these weekly dinners together like they were your most solid form of comfort.

Until one day, Yamaguchi brought a friend. Brought him.

Tsukishima Kei was the perfect example of everything you shouldn’t love, but that only makes you love him harder. He’s cocky, arrogant enough to be tolerable - unlike Oikawa - a bit more difficult to talk to. A lot of work. It really was a shame you liked things that were challenges.

Because Yamaguchi was easy. Maybe that’s what drew you more to his tall friend.

All smirks and side glances, snide remarks about your food or the restaurant itself. You almost wanted to kick him out right then and there. But you had a soft spot for Yamaguchi, so you let the boys stay.

That would be your first mistake.

Your second was something so seemingly innocent, yet it would be your complete and utter downfall in the end. Your second would be falling for Tsukishima Kei. Hard and fast, with no mercy or care in the world. No time to think about your feelings when your thoughts were filled with him.

Tsukishima Kei was everything that Yamaguchi wasn’t. He was hard to have conversations with, harsh on his wise remarks about you, and time with him went by in a second. You had no chance to reflect on the things you’d said or the way his tone of voice shifted between words; it was over just as quickly as it started.

At first, you took it as a good sign.

You thought that it meant you enjoyed his company so much that it would be over so quick. Even when you tried to think of it as the most boring thing you’d ever done, it didn’t work. Not when he turned and looked at you with that smirk. Not when you blinked and he was grabbing his things to go.

Of course, you didn’t even take a second to think that maybe the reason time went so fast was because he was leaving so much earlier than Yamaguchi would. But as you continued to work, you didn’t think about it. Especially not when your heart skipped a beat when your eyes met.

"It's all my fault." Yamaguchi leaned his head back against the door a little too hard, the noise making you wince.

"It isn't." You said, because it wasn’t his fault. Well, it wasn’t all his fault. Even a blind man could see that. You aren’t even sure how you manage to keep your voice so strong, but you know that it won’t happen again.

“It is.” And this time, you didn't stop his explanation. “When I found out he liked you, I knew he wasn’t going to be good for you. But I saw how your eyes lit up around him, and you’d been talking about him for two years so… I didn’t stop him. I didn’t tell him you deserved more than this. More than what he could give you.” He paused, probably running his hand through his hair. “And then you’d talk about the things he’d do like they were normal, like you were laughing. Like you were begging me to make you stop it.” And he was right. Because you were. Because you hoped he’d see the signs and make you turn around. You probably wouldn’t have listened though. “I’m not going to say I could have treated you better because that isn’t for me to decide. But I will say that I wish I’d never introduced you to him.” He shuffled behind the door, probably getting up to leave. “You know, Y/N, you deserved so much more than that. You are worthy of more than that.” He assured you, and you could only laugh - it really didn’t feel like that right now.

As he left you alone, you wanted to scream more for him to come back, but you knew it was for the best. Yamaguchi was his friend first. You were barely an afterthought in the grand-scheme of things.

Every night you lay awake, panic sewn into your skin that he’d show up, begging you for forgiveness, begging you to take him back, and you lived with the fear that you would do exactly that.

Why?

Because you hated the thought of him being hurt. Hated the idea that, even after everything he’d done to you, you still couldn’t put yourself first.

And, after all this time, there was only one person you could call when things got bad.

Yamaguchi had gotten pretty good at putting on a brave face around Tsukishima when the other first years he’d shared his high school experience were around, but when the pair were left alone, he didn’t have a good thing to say to the blond.

“You really stopped clinging to Tsukishima,” Hinata said in passing one day, almost making the green haired boy hurl. Because if only they knew why. If only they’d seen what he’d seen. If only they’d heard your cries when everything happened.

Instead of answering directly, Yamaguchi just shrugged and laughed lightly, closing his eyes for fear they’d betray him with his true emotions. “Just thought I should start living for myself. You know, you can’t rely on someone forever.” When he opened them again, Tsukishima was looking the other way, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Come on, Tadashi.” Tsukishima called out to him; it was one of those days they’d all planned to be here together, but life happens, and it left Tsukishima with a very pissed off Yamaguchi. “God, you need to stop being such a pussy. Who even cares about her anyway?” Tsukishima asked him, his tone of voice making it very clear that he hated this topic.

It stopped Yamaguchi in his tracks. Because he cared about you. He was there for you. He saw the aftermath, the way you almost refused to tell him what had happened with a serious tone; he saw the light in your eyes shatter and break, and the confident girl he’d known was gone.

You were gone because of the man behind him right now. He clenched his fists, trying to calm the increase of his heartbeat. Trying to resist the urge to punch him in the face. Trying to find the words that would make this boy understand what he’d done.

“Just because you never cared, doesn’t mean other people didn’t.” Yamaguchi spat, walking away from Tsukishima.

He would come to you every time you called him, late at night, early in the morning. Whenever. Wherever. It didn’t matter. Not when you curled up in your bed with your head pressed into his chest, tears staining his shirt and assuring him it would be another long night.

He’d do anything you’d ask, if he were being honest, but you never asked him more than that. For him to stay the night and hold you was all you ever needed, and he thought you were brave for being able to admit just that.

Slowly, you were getting better.

And then you called one evening, crying so hard, voice so filled with panic that he practically ran to your dorm- no, he did run. His legs were burning, his lungs squeezing closed with every sharp exhale. But he was here.

And so was Tsukishima.

The blond was knocking on your door, cheeks tear-stained in the most pathetic way as he begged you to let him inside. Yamaguchi had never been more proud of you; in this moment, you were going against everything your body told you to do.

Yamaguchi acted on instinct, pushing Tsukishima away from your door, and he tumbled onto the ground, looking up at his friend who radiated rage. His blood was boiling, any pain throughout his body long forgotten because you needed him to protect you. To do what he should have done years ago.

“What are you doing here?” Tsukishima didn’t bother pulling himself up, not yet, not when every muscle in Yamaguchi’s arms flexed, threatening him just enough. But Yamaguchi actually hurt him? He actually needed to think about that; right now, it really looked like it.

“I was actually invited.” Yamaguchi hissed behind gritted teeth. Had his senses ever been so awake? He didn’t think so. Pure adrenaline rushed through his veins. “What are you doing here?”

It almost felt wrong to talk to Tsukishima this way - so wrong, yet so right - he didn’t understand why. Sure, when they met as kids, Tsukishima had never been the nicest to him. But he’d never been horrible either. Not the way he was to you - not the way he was to anyone else. It made him feel special, that Tsukishima’s friendship was special - no matter how wrong that was - and maybe when they got closer in high school, he let himself be blind for just a little bit longer. Because Tsukishima Kei called him cool, so wasn’t that a big deal? It shouldn’t have been.

“And what are you going to do?” Tsukishima asked, standing up slowly, he was watching Yamaguchi carefully, he could see the hesitation in the boy's eyes. So, maybe he did have the upper hand, or some sort of ground after all. “Because I really doubt you have it in you to hit me, Tadashi, so just move out of the way and let me talk to my girlfriend.”

That sat wrong with Yamaguchi and his glare hardened. He could hear you crying on the other side of the door, God, you must have been so scared. “She isn’t your girlfriend anymore.”

“Is she yours?” Tsukishima looked down on him, sneering. He already knew the answer.

“Why do you care so much? Because if I remember correctly, you’re the one that broke up with her. You’re the one that did this. And now you’re crawling back?” Yamaguchi scoffed, trying his hardest to make sure his walls weren’t going to break down, he could feel them crumbling already. “That’s pretty lame, Tsukki.”

“Because I fucked up.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes, hands shoved deep into his pocket.

“When did you fuck up exactly?” Yamaguchi stepped closer to him, pointing his finger at him almost violently. “Was it when you told her she wasn’t good enough for you? Was it when you tore her apart for your own entertainment? Was it when she opened up to you, and you shamed her for that? Or could it have been when you left her standing in the rain on your first anniversary? Maybe it was when you abandoned her at her own mother’s funeral because she ‘hurt your feelings’? God, I really just can’t pinpoint when you fucked up,” sarcasm dripped from his tongue as he grabbed Tsukishima by the shirt (when had he gotten so close?) pulling his face down until they met eyelines, “fucking enlighten me, Tsukishima!” He yelled. “You know what, Tsukishima, I think your biggest fuck up was following me to her restaurant, when I told you not to, all because you were bored.”

The tension held in the air was strangling them both. It was all a case of who would let go first - who would be the first one to back away?

They both knew the answer.

Tsukishima pushed Yamaguchi away, scoffing at the green haired boy, “I get it. You hate me.” He rolled his eyes, straightening out his shirt. “But I did care about her.” His voice was softer now, like he was scared that you’d hear him.

“Well,” Yamaguchi cleared his throat, “you have a really funny way of showing it.” They turned away from each other, not wanting to see the changes in their face. A silent agreement between them that things would never be the same. Maybe that was for the best.

When he was sure that Tsukishima had left the building, Yamaguchi reached a shaking hand out to your door.

Your soft whimpers were barely noticeable, but they were there. You opened the door, practically throwing yourself into his arms when you confirmed he was okay; you didn't ask what happened between the boys and he didn’t tell you.

Sure, you never liked doing things easily before, but right now, easy was what your heart needed. Yamaguchi took the lead in making sure you were getting help with the trauma; and he let you take the lead in your relationship.

And sure, you’d always regret the night you’d met Tsukishima Kei. But, no matter what you said, you would never regret the night you’d met Yamaguchi.

--------

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[lettrespromises]

> LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification.

> Letter object : the heart’s warmth and the body’s flames.

> Todoroki Shouto and Bakugou Katsuki sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

@bruised-cherry​ sent a letter : ❝Hiya, Nikki! Can I request a one-shot(if you're down) where Todoroki and Bakugou's(poly relationship) s/o got into a little argument with each other and now their s/o is rejecting them and ignoring them. Since it's summer, TodoBaku turned off the air conditioning, AC, etc, knowing their s/o would need them soon. And just, kinky, dirty ass s m U t :) (and lana spelled backwards if you're down with that, if not that's cool). Sorry I'm a kinky hoe 👉😅👈❞

Author’s letter :

❝ dear bruised-cherry,

first and foremost, i would like to apologize for taking so long to write your promised letter! nonetheless, i had a lot of fun writing it, hopefully it will reach your expectations!! it’s 4:05am as i am writing this and my brain is unable to write proper words i’m sorry—

sealed with a kiss,

nikki.❞

Genre : Pure smut, angst if you squint.

Warnings : Cursing, sex, vaginal sex, blow-job, cunnilingus, anal sex, daddy kink. (Please consider that the characters are aged up.)

Word count : 5.8K.

This day seemed to counterbalance the already established rules of time and space, you were secretly convinced that minutes were hours and each time you would lay your eyes upon any item with the sole purpose of indicating the current hour, you felt as if time had stopped. It was a long, long day. Truthfully, you wished you could have had the opportunity to meet someone whose quirk was time control to ask them to skip the remaining hours of the day.

The root of the problem was deeply imbedded with the increasing attacks committed by the villains in town, you were on a mission with both Bakugou and Todoroki- a clear lack of communication and coordination signed a burning defeat for the three of you. A mission built and perfected during several months had just blown into pieces, your efforts, tears, blood and energy were the combustibles to the pain fueled by this defeat. Each one of you attempted to exude this loss in your own way while making your way back home. Todoroki, sat on the passenger seat, found the cure to his own inner built-up anger by digging his pearly whites into the flesh of his thumb while observing the passing scenery before his eyes. Bakugou, unexpectedly, made a martyr of the steering wheel by squeezing the non-existent life out of it, causing his fingers to turn white in the process. You, on the other one hand, kept on reminiscing the earlier events of today, your mind roaming over and over again to find what went wrong, you weren’t exactly angry : disappointed in yourself was a more precise way to describe the matter.

The silence was deafening, almost agonizing. Truthfully, silence was even more intimidating than noise- a noisy ride would have included the repertoire of Bakugou’s insults flowing freely from his mouth, it was expected. But silence, on Bakugou’s end, echoed to a level of anger rarely ever reached, metaphorically speaking, Katsuki was a living and breathing ticking bomb at this very moment.

The sound of the car door smashing broke the silence as you arrived home, Bakugou was already inside, his hands shoved in his pockets as expected. You freed a sigh you ignored you were holding from your lips, an early sign that you knew there was little to no seconds left on the ticking bomb. Todoroki sent an apologetic glance in your way, you knew he didn’t mean no harm, if anything, it was a silent sign to encourage you before facing the aftermath caused by the explosion of the bomb.

Flower vases left shattered on the floor, a door handle scarred by the scorching hot imprints of Bakugou’s unforgiving hold and a continuous flow of insults as background noise- those were the said aftermath of the explosion. Bakugou’s body language radiated off pure anger, like you or Todoroki had barely seen before, his rage was exuding from the pores of his palms through a dangerous marriage of small explosions and smoke. He was roaming back and forth in the living room, his stare was focused on the explosions emanating from his hands as a way to convince himself that the more explosions would be set free, the less he would feel angry.

« Fuck, fuck, fuck… Goddamnit, fuck! What the fuck went wrong, hah?! We planned this shit entirely, from start to fucking finish. What the fuck went wrong?! You tell me instead of staring at me, do fucking something for once! » The words echoed and morphed into a roar sent directly your way, anger lacing his every word.

« Bakugou, don’t say things you don’t mean. » Todoroki stated, the pseudo comfort embedded in his voice radically clashed with the heat of Bakugou’s words.

« Don’t say shit I don’t mean? Who the fuck are you to tell others what to do when you couldn’t even do shit when we were facing those bastards?! You didn’t do shit, you fucking left us on our own and arrived at the very last second. So tell me, give me one good fucking reason as to why I should take shit from you! Fucking say it to my face, because I’m dying to know what’s your excuse. » The sounds of Bakugou’s explosions slowly adopted the structure of a crescendo, but Todoroki remained unfazed, his facial expression didn’t betray his pseudo serenity. « I was evacuating the civilians, you knew that, I don’t understand why you act so confused. We prepared this plan together, the three of us, you knew what my role was. »

You were stuck in the middle of a battlefield, torn between two sides but the tragic twist of this scene was that you couldn’t find the strength to defend one of them. You needed to remain objective and impartial, something obviously easier said than done. Your eyes darted from one figure to another each time you heard the sound of either Todoroki or Bakugou’s words, truthfully, you felt paralyzed under the lack of options in this crucial situation- on one hand, Katsuki was nothing short of acerbic when anger consumed him, on the other one hand, Shouto’s calm attitude hid a dangerous amount of anger building inside of him ready to explode if Bakugou’s venom stung too hard to Todoroki’s liking.

« Oh yeah, yeah. You were on you own, hah? Evacuating civilians and shit, am I supposed to feel fucking sorry for you when Y/N were busting our fucking asses out there to take down those bastards? You’re trying to play it solo like your old man? You know what, the more I think about it, the more you start to act like him-… »

« Katsuki! That’s enough, shut up! »

It was your turn to let anger lace your words in such a way that they developed their own toxins, purposefully made to sting Bakugou hard enough to cut his rambling. Endeavor was a touchy topic to Shouto, and as soon as Katsuki pronounced the words ‘old man’, a hint of flames appeared on Todoroki’s collarbone- it was only a matter of second before an inferno invaded the living room.

« You never know when to stop, do you? Do you have any idea of how ridiculous this is? You, Bakugou, you should know out of all people that his father his a sensitive topic, and yet you let your anger get the best of you every damn time. Todoroki, were you really ready to blast your flames at him? Aren’t the both of your grown men, or am I mistaken? How disappointing, how fucking disappointing. » You dropped every last ounce of energy in your tirade, every last bit of emotion in the process too. You felt so numb, deprived from your own vigor.

Both Todoroki and Bakugou’s eyes fell on you as soon as your roaring words broke their mutual verbal assaults, their mouths were set agape- they did have words on the tip of their tongue, but they couldn’t find the strength to give life to them. There it was again, the deafening and agonizing silence.

You couldn’t bare standing in the same vicinity as them, disappointment clouded your vision and the more you looked at them, the more your vision became foggy- but it still remained unclear as to whether it was due to the disappointment or the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. Without wasting yet another second, you went upstairs and locked yourself in your room, giving yourself some privacy to wipe away your tears.

Downstairs, the silence was still suffocating both Bakugou and Todoroki, their stare were still laying upon the spot where you used to be just a few seconds earlier, they just hadn’t processed your sudden disappearance. They blinked once, then twice, and a third time to make sure they weren’t dreaming and once they were convinced it was very much real, they looked at each other and sighed as if they were, too, deprived of their own energy.

« Bak-… Katsuki, it was my mistake to threaten you with my flames, I apologize. » Todoroki’s tone was soft in comparison to his last statement, a sense of compassion replaced the anger laced in his words.

« I shouldn’t have talked about your shitty dad. » A sentence, which, in Bakugou’s vocabulary echoed to an apology, but with the cruel exception of the forbidden word which begins with an ’s’ and ends with ‘-orry’.

« I assume Y/N is not going to talk to us for a while, and, don’t take it personally but her presence is very much needed. » Bakugou frowned as Todoroki’s words connected to his eardrums, needless to say, he knew he was right but didn’t care enough to admit it and grant him this silent victory.

« I might have an idea, half-and-half, use your shitty quirk to lower the temperature of the house, you know how much she fucking hates cold temperatures. That’s gonna make her move her ass out of the bedroom. » Todoroki only quirked his eyebrows in response while Bakugou was adorning his most victorious grin, he knew this plan meant an automatic win- both of them could handle cold temperatures thanks to their quirks, you on the other one hand, were more fond of warmer temperatures.

Todoroki sighed, perhaps already regretting his choice to follow Bakugou’s antics, but if it meant that he had to play dirty to get you, he was ready to deem himself as the dirtier player in the game. Soon enough, a frigid fog invaded mercilessly the first floor, and your bedroom was the first victim of the unforgiving coldness. Little did you know, this was the beginning of a series of crushing defeats on your end : seeking warmth underneath your blankets? Didn’t work. Blow air on your hands? A total fail. Looking through your boyfriends’ closets to find one of their thick hoodies and wear it? Not the solution you needed to cure the problem.

You were running out of solutions, and that’s when your unconsciousness crept in and murmured suave temptations to your ear : the welcoming warmth of Bakugou and Todoroki’s bodies, their arms wrapped around you like a human cocoon to protect you from the cold temperature. It sounded like a dream, and you had the means to make it real- but at what cost? You roamed around the room, not only to create body warmth by moving, but also to accelerate the train of your thoughts. What was more important? Freezing yourself to death with your pride as an inexistent shield from the cold, or embrace the agonizingly tempting warmth radiating from both of your boyfriends?

The answer to your rhetorical question manifested itself rather quickly- in the blink of an eye, you had already wrapped your hand around the doorknob and raced downstairs towards the personifications of your very own personal heaters under Shouto’s puzzled expression and, in contrast, Katsuki’s triumphing grin.

« Hah? Have you finally decided to show up, princess? » Anyone could have noticed the more-than-obvious obnoxious tone dripping from Bakugou’s words, he glanced over at Todoroki who grinned at him in response, silently thanking him.

« Just keep me warm. » You found a perfect spot right between Katsuki and Shouto on the couch, your knees were brought to your chest, your arms were encompassing your legs- if anything, you were pretty close to looking like a sphere, but you were ready to contort yourself in any position to gather some precious warmth. Eventually, you let out a silent sigh as soon as you felt their respective warmth hit the surface of your skin as a sign of satisfaction.

« I think you forgot the magic word, love. » Shouto teased, his warm index gracing the cold flesh on your shoulder, such a tease.

« Ugh, fine! Keep me warm, please. » You emphasized the pleading word, just enough to make them grin even wider in victory.

« ‘Wasn’t so hard, was it, princess? » You couldn’t exactly tell if you hated or were absolutely enamored with the teasing tone of his voice, but once thing was certain- the grin plastered upon his face was a thing of beauty.

Bakugou, as expected of him, took the lead, or rather, sent a silent challenge in Todoroki’s way which dared him to take the upper hand of the situation. He wrapped his arms around your waist in a lion-like manner, ready to protect what’s his, with the help of his strength you were now sitting on his lap. The grip around your frame didn’t move one bit, not only did he want to provide you as much warmth as his quirk allowed, but he also wanted to maintain control. Your head was laying upon the surface of his shoulder, your face was facing Todoroki who admired you as if he had witnessed the renaissance of Venus under your traits.

« I will help you feel a bit more warm, alright, love? » You hummed in response to Todoroki’s one-sided interrogation.

Another source of warmth was more than welcome. Thus, Shouto wasted no time and placed his hand upon the surface of your cheek, daring to cross Bakugou’s self-claimed territory in the process without any ounce of shame. The amount of space between the two of you had dangerously reduced until totally disappearing which cleared Todoroki’s path on his way to show you just how much he could warm you up. His lids fluttered shut in anticipation, and there it was, the oh so fabulous source of warmth- he planted his lips on yours in perfect harmony. After all, a promise was a promise, correct? Regardless of how it’s executed, correct? That was exactly Shouto’s mindset as his tongue grazed your bottom lip to beg for access to the inside of your mouth, a wish quickly granted which allowed him to spread the warmth of his tongue inside your mouth as his pink muscle met yours which only announced the beginning of the dance of pleasure. Your actions corresponded to his, and his initiatives echoed to yours— soon enough, your tongues were melting in each other’s touch. As much as he wanted to keep this going forever, the way you grabbed his wrist was an indicator that you were starting to lack oxygen. Of course he ended the kiss, but not before he dug his teeth into your lower lip to which you responded with a semi silent whimper.

Bakugou observed the scene from the side with the same smirk gracing his facial features, he would be the worst liar on Earth if he were to say that seeing your mouths collide in harmony wasn’t the epitome of poetry in motion. But who was he to let Shouto get the best of you? Who was he to let Shouto make you whimper first? He craved, no, he needed to make you melt under his touch.

« Want us to make you feel hot, princess? Be careful what you wish for. » This sentence was his final warning before flipping you over on your back, offering him the best position to physically tale the upper hand under Shouto’s amused stare. You looked so pure and yet so sinful at once, a paradox which drove of them crazy as they imagined the most unholy deeds they were going to do to you. Katsuki’s index hooked the fabric of your hoodie (more like his, but it’s just a slight detail which turnt him on even more) before to pull it over your head.

Oh, and what a gorgeous sight to behold— your naked upper body, in all its glory, a body worthy of the most descriptive pages of a novel. He couldn’t help but snicker at the ethereal scenery before his eyes, he knew he was going to devour you and make you his, no matter what.

« Don’t give me those eyes, woman, I fucking told you I was gonna make you feel real hot. You won’t need this shitty hoodie to keep you warm. »

The assault was given once his pearly whites dug into the soft flesh of your neck, reflex kicked, you titled your head to the side to give him more room to play with. It was a succession of biting, licking, biting again until your skin adopted a purplish tone which echoed to a mark of both domination and belonging. Of course, you belonged to him… And Todoroki. Once he was satisfied with his artwork, he licked the abused flesh one last time before smirking to himself as a sign of victory.

You couldn’t expect Todoroki to be left out of the party, after all, you did belong to him too. He pushed Bakugou to the side just enough to bask in the glory of your half-naked form. The gleam in his eyes reflected nothing but pure adoration, he was torn between the will to worship each inch of your body and the tempting option to make your legs weak until you can’t form proper words anymore. Oh, well, both were bound to happen.

« Oi! If you wanna touch her, don’t fucking push me! » Bakugou’s rambling was cut short as soon as Todoroki’s lips crashed on his, the blonde eye’s widened in surprise but he eventually allowed himself to crave to the passion.

« I don’t need your permission to touch what’s mine. » Todoroki whispered against the flesh of your breasts, emphasizing the very last word strategically.

The sight of your hardened nipples caused him to lick his bottom lip in anticipation, just a way to warm up his lips before devouring your flesh. Todoroki wasted no time and took this opportunity to let his tongue grace your left bud, the motions were repetitive and hypnotizing— from circular motions right around your nipple, from vertical licks to sucking motions, each deed was designed for your own pleasure while your whimpers falling free from your lips and the hand stuck at the root of his hair encouraged his actions. Your whimpers were cut short once Bakugou’s lips found yours and dragged you in a tongue-led kiss, and to no one’s surprise, you followed his already established rhythm, but goodness, it was deliciously intoxicating, letting you crave for more. And somehow, the sound of your hushed whimpers created an even more attractive melody.

Now, it was Todoroki’s turn to take advantage of the vacant place left by Bakugou who was now bent on your side which meant that your whole body to discover for the umpteenth time. A trail of kisses left from the valley of your breasts to your lower belly indicated which dangerous way Shouto was bound to take. He took a glance at the liplock share with Katsuki who offered you no rest no matter if you craved for oxygen or not, the same amused grin still plastered upon his facial features, and augmented the temperature just a bit more.

His finger drew an invisible line along the edge of your underwear, a pre-meditated deed which only announced in advance what he was bound to do, he was just one step closer to make your legs crumble under his touch. In a swift motion, fueled by his own personal hunger to satisfy his fantasies, Todoroki got rid of your pants and he could already discern the wet patch adorning the cotton surface of your underwear, what a sight to see. A new trail of kiss was left upon your skin by Shouto, this time, he focused on the inside of your thighs and followed a vertical pattern until reaching the climax of his journey : your already dripping heat.

« Are you already this wet for us, love? How kind of you. » The amused tone which embedded his voice hid a hidden sinful tone, such a contrast, but only Bakugou and you could catch the double-tone.

Bakugou, on the other one hand, mimicked Todoroki’s earlier antics (only to outdo him, his own ego was his sole motivation) and made a victim of your breasts. One lovebite on your neck wasn’t enough, he craved to make you his even more, on every inch of your body. This thought was the reason behind his will to bite the generous flesh of your left breast, which clearly isn’t abused enough to his liking. And so it began once more— biting, licking, biting once more just hard enough to make you whimper in response, suck on your flesh until it becomes purple and has his name written all over it. From the love bite, Katsuki kissed his way until your nipple, the motions of his mouth were strategically chosen to make pure sounds of pleasure fall free from mouth mouth, while his thumb and index were twisting your nipple while following the circular motions of his tongue. The harsh grasp you held onto his blonde hair was only one of the first hints that you were on your way to reach a state of pure bliss, the moans echoing in his head were his favorite hint though.

The sensation of a sharp lick across the fabric of your underwear awakened a new whimper on your end, this time, it was higher which only echoed to a higher level of pleasure. Todoroki’s lips curved into a grin at the sound of it, what a marvel to hear. The fabric which separated your core from Shouto’s lips was seen as a taunt to the latter, but fret not, said taunt was quickly taken care of as soon as he got rid of your underwear, throwing them who-knows-where in the room.

And so the temperature augmented yet again— an experimental lick caused you to bite your lower lip to refrain any moan to escape from your mouth as you closed your eyes in anticipation for pure bliss. Your reaction was the best indicator to Shouto who had found yet another motivation to make you come undone— getting to hear your agonizingly breathtaking whimpers and moans fall in cascade from your lips. Your core was wet, much to Todoroki’s delight, and he could almost hear you calling his name, begging him to eat you as if you were his last dinner on Earth.

His mouth married the shape of your core, his tongue danced beautifully against your folds as if your core had been specifically created to welcome the wonders of his mouth. The licks left by his pink muscle were executed differently in several ways— vertical licks, circular shapes, he based his actions on the sound of your shameless moans and whimpers to predict his next move.

« Shouto, S-Shouto! » Your first begging, which didn’t go unnoticed to both of the protagonists of your very own pleasure.

« So eager, aren’t you, love? » He kissed these words into your skin, words embedded with adoration and love in the process.

Well, there was someone whose name hadn’t been begged, and truth be told, it was getting on his nerves. How dare Shouto have the honor of being begged and not him? Oh, well, he was about to change that right away.

« Open wide, princess, I’ll give you something to fucking beg about. » The same usual smirk accompanied his words, he already knew what was bound to happen, and the knew what effect it would leave on you.

By the time you were busy with Shouto, Bakugou had already taken care of his own clothing by… taking everything off. Isn’t it easier that way? His genetically given large hand stroked tentatively his length, just enough to cause a layer of pre-cum to cover his tip, once he was satisfied with the result, he wasted no time to shove his entire member in your mouth in a swift motion. The warmth of your lips was the most delicate welcome he could’ve asked for, regardless if you were to choke or not, he’d find a way to make you beg his name until it becomes the only thing you’re able to say. Your throat grazed the sensitive tip of his grit, earning you a hushed grunt as a reaction which was a rarity coming from Bakugou. Both of his hands held a harsh grip on your hair, and he used said grip as a level of pressure to thrust himself into your mouth under the mesmerizing sounds of your choked whimpers. It was a scenery of beauty, he was the sole holder of all your attention— you were looking at him through your lashes with pleading eyes, silently begging him to keep going until you were to choke on his member. A silent sign he didn’t miss, he knew you like the back of his hand, after all.

Eventually, Shouto complied to your begs, you wanted more? Oh, you were bound to get more, more precisely, you were bound to have exactly what you deserved. Todoroki and tease were very close to being synonymous, hence why he purposefully used the pad of his thumb to create circulate motions on your sweet bundle of nerves which was the key to make you come undone, and, of course, two of his fingers which had already found a shelter inside your folds while pumping in and out, over and over again, until bringing you to the brim of ecstasy.

Under this new pressure, the need to express your pleasure through moans was almost impossible given the fact that each sound coming out of your mouth was rendered hushed by Bakugou’s length. Your wrapped your hand around his phallus to not only catch some cruelly needed oxygen but also set free all the sounds of pleasure trapped inside you, as soon as your mouth was set free, a pure sound of bliss fell free from your lips. A sound so sinful and addicting at once that both Bakugou and Todoroki couldn’t help but repeat said sound in their head over and over again.

« Oi, princess, I didn’t fucking tell you to stop so keep sucking until I say otherwise, did you fucking get that? » It was a one-sided question, your answer wouldn’t matter anyway.

And there he went again, shoving his member inside your mouth as Bakugou began chasing his own pleasure— if he was careful enough, he could picture the shape of heaven when his lids fluttered shut. This time, his thrusts were harsher, clearly designed to attain his climax. But he wasn’t the only one who was close to reach the seventh sky— the addition of Shouto’s fingers pumping in and out, the oh so right pressure on your sweet of nerves and the precise licks left on your wet folds was nothing short of divine, that divine that it was going to make you reach your orgasm sooner than you thought.

Reflex kicked, your grip on Shouto’s hair became gradually tighter as you felt the knot in your stomach grow more and more until it became out of your control, you rolled your eyes back in ecstasy and the pearls of tears on the corner of your eyes were now rolling down the surface of your cheeks. Through choked sounds, you encouraged Shouto to keep going and going until you could touch heaven by the tip of your fingers. And then heaven came to you, the liberating sensation of floating on a cloud overwhelmed you as you reached your orgasm, manifesting the pure sounds of bliss through the hushed sounds caused by Bakugou’s intrusive length.

« You’re such a good girl, love, you came undone for us. Such a good girl… » The end of his sentence was whispered in marvel against your core, it was a sight he could never get bored of.

His tongue found once more its way to your folds, licking each and every drop of your juices to satisfy his own pleasure. Your taste was his favorite, it was addicting as hell, so addicting that before to swallow said juices, he would always make a mental note of how your cum feels on his tastebuds.

« Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, god-fucking-damnit! » Bakugou’s grunts followed the structure of a crescendo, he threw his head back in pure pleasure— he was so close, so fucking close, he wanted to reach the seventh sky as well.

Todoroki grabbed him by the nape of his neck, his fingers digging right in Katsuki’s flesh, and planted his lips still coated with your juices right upon his. Bakugou could taste your sweet nectar on Shouto’s lips, and perhaps it was the last thing necessary for him to come undone— your taste always had the ability to bring him over the edge, and once more, this time was no exception. Bakugou groaned against Shouto’s lips before breaking the contact between them to share a pure sound of ecstasy of his own and eventually, come undone right in your mouth. A string of the blonde’s cum dripped down from the corner of your mouth, and observing you use your tongue to collect the remaining cum on your chin made Bakugou if he wasn’t going to come undone twice in a row at the sight of this.

« Come on, love, we’re not done yet. » This was the final chapter of all of Shouto’s fantasies, a chapter which was finally bound to take form.

Todoroki snaked his arms around your form to place you right on his lap, once the position was comfortable for the both of you, he placed his length right against your twitching core which was already begging for him to fill you.

« Please, j-just fuck me already… Please… » Another auditive wonder— the sound of you begging was worthy of the most beautiful symphony.

« You asked so nicely, love, who am I to refuse? » A rhetorical question, as expected of Shouto when he led the teasing game.

Shouto filled you instantly, shoving his entire length inside you which caused the unexpected appearance of a moan which you could hardly suppress even by biting your lower lip. An initiative quickly ended by Bakugou’s intervention who tilted your head just enough so he could plant a rough kiss upon your lips in order to prevent you from hushing those sounds of pleasure any longer.

« Don’t be fucking shy, let us hear what you gotta’ say, baby girl. » You looked at Katsuki with pleading eyes, you knew that you were not going to be able to suppress or refrain any of your moans or whimpers, you knew you were bound to become a vocal mess.

Shouto’s hands held a strong grip on your waist, so strong that the tip of his fingers turnt white under the pressure. His rhythm was frantic from the beginning, using the combination of his hips bucking upwards and his arms wrapped around your middle to clash against his testicles. You had the best spot to hear up close and personal the ravishing sounds of bliss coming out of Shouto’s mouth like a broken record. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as a desperate cry for support as his hips were pounding deep inside you until reaching your cervix.

Behind you, Bakugou had already made sure to wet his fingers to prep you. Prep you for what exactly? Oh, well, we all know Bakugou doesn’t handle well being left alone, especially when Todoroki has the advantage of him. The tip of his fingers brushed against your rectum until two of them entered your second hole, he expected this reaction but your moans were ethereal, especially when he was the cause of them. His fingers pumped into your rectum just enough for you to get used to the stretch and to the knew (and double) sensation.

« Be a good fucking girl for daddy and let him fuck you from behind, yeah? » He studied your facial expression and the irregular pattern of your breaths to know whether or not you were fond of his new antics, to which you confirmed his doubts by whispering an almost inaudible « Y-Yes, daddy… »

Nonetheless, the elongated moan you let out in his favor once his fingers reached a bit deeper in your rectum was enough for him to get the clue and replace the feeling of his index and middle finger with the width of his length. A pure sound of pleasure with his name written all over it, if you were to ask Bakugou, he would tell you right away that this is what heaven felt like.

« I-I’m going to cum, I can’t-… » Shouto’s hot breath crashed against your equally as hot skin, it became impossible for him to suppress his grunts any longer.

Bakugou mirrored his pace which had suddenly quickened under the pressure erupting in his lower belly, he could already touch the clouds of the seventh sky, and you were the key to unlocking the divine skies of heaven.

« Fuck… Fuck, I’m close too. » Their grunts matched in unison under the melody of your repetitive moans caused by the double pressure.

With one last thrust from both protagonist, you felt two rushes of hot liquids invade your insides as a moan signed their orgasm. That was it, they came undone and touched heaven as they came inside of you, all the pent up pressure in their abdomen had been set free for your greatest pleasure. You rolled your head back on Katsuki’s shoulder, oxygen had become a rarity under the frantic thrusts of the two newfound victims of passion. Once your lungs felt full again, you released an elongated sigh which drained all of your strength in the process.

Bakugou pulled out first, causing you to whimper at the sudden sensation of vacuity replacing the ever so addictive sensation of being filled by the man who held the keys to your heart. As he pulled out, his arms snaked around your middle and he dragged you with him, hot breaths crashing against your blazing skin. Katsuki put your head over his chest while you mustered up the last bits of vigor you could invoke to find shelter in his comforting embrace.

As soon as Shouto evened his breathing pattern, he felt the urge to join you and Katsuki— laying by your side, his arms draped over your waist, he felt at peace with the two most important people in his life, the true definition of perfection to him. Silence came back again, but this time it was comforting, a silence which held all the fierceness of your feelings for one another. A few kisses were planted here and there on your skin as a silent way to show gratitude, but all three of you were absolutely drained because of passion.

« If you’re still feeling cold, I know a fucking way or two to fix this shitty problem, princess. »

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Vár (Ivar’s PoV)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Vár: spring (Old Norse)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: A little bit of insight into the aftermath of Chapter 36 and his perspective of the events of Chapter 37

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+, references to smut and explicit bits. My boy is a sub and I am unable to write him in any other way, it seems. Then, just the usual for the story.

A/N: So yeah, companion piece to 37!

And listen, lemme share a secret with ya: I tried my hardest not making Ivar a bottom/sub in this, I truly did, but...I failed. So, if sub!Ivar ain’t your thing (it’s not explicit exactly, but it’s there, and I am sometimes bothered by descriptions of him in a very dominant position so I’d understand if the opposite happens to you, which is why I’m warning you), feel free to skip past the first ____ and you’re good. Thank you!

To say that in the last few days Ivar has grown fascinated -addicted, you’d argue- to exploring your body and every sound you make would be an understatement.

There’s a surge of pride inside his chest that hasn’t left him since that night, a satisfaction at knowing he can satisfy a woman, at knowing the most beautiful woman he knows, the woman they all want, wants him.

Ivar cannot get enough of the sight of you lost in the throes of the pleasure he gives you, and he loses his breath alongside with his mind each time your voice turns rougher and your hand -delicate, soft hand that somehow has the strength of Fenrir’s bindings when you touch him- grips onto his own as his fingers curl deep inside of you, your free hand pushing him down against the bed, sometimes close enough to his throat that Ivar has to grit his teeth to keep a plea of your name from leaving his lips; when you, in all the arrogance and the might that he hates and loves in equal measure, still his movements with a wrap of your fingers around his wrist and instead of having him give you pleasure you take it, you demand from him whatever you want and…Gods, that’s a sight he doesn’t think he will never get enough of.

And he’s addicted to the taste of you; to the sounds you make when he works his mouth and his tongue against you, chants of his name that reverberate through his chest and make him almost tremble with the realization that he is the reason behind them, that leave him warm and proud because he made you feel this way, and your moans and sighs and whimpers are gentle praise washing over him; to the way you grip and tug at his hair, bordering on pain and making shivers and something else run down his spine, and your thighs shake, and your back arches off the bed, and you come apart, and it is because of him, only he can do this to you, only him is who you want to do this to you, and he knows he is addicted, he knows there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for this, for you.

There’s still a part of him -and there will always be, a part of him that grows louder some days- that resents that this also has to be different, that not even in sex he can be normal.

And that part of him, a part of him made of snarls that demanded answers from the Gods and of wrath and promises of death whispered in the ear of a slave; that part was quietened, pliant, satisfied, in your arms that night when you kissed him, stealing his breath and his mind and his heart, and reached down to touch him.

He once wished he had the words to tell you to do with him -with his body, defective and lacking as he sees it- what you wished, to tell you to claim the rest of him as ruthlessly as you claimed his heart; and it is that need, and that awe at the unwavering woman that kissed him until he ached and unwaveringly whispered more than any other man in my life, I want you; that made him take so long to stop you, that night.

He still remembers what it felt like, surrendering to you in that brief moment. He still remembers how it felt like his head was filled with noise and his heart and breath was out of his control.

He remembers how he could feel everywhere you were touching him, your lips on his neck pressing soft kisses in the places you had bitten and licked, your chest to his side almost holding him up when he leaned into you, your hand squeezing softly and moving over him with increasing pressure, making electricity run down his spine and heat coil low in his stomach.

And he remembers allowing himself to give in, and how good it felt. How he surrendered to falling and yet he didn’t, because you were there, soft breaths and gentle touches; how your delicate hand was so different from…that woman’s cold and distant touch, or from his own rough and desperate grip as he tried uselessly to prove to himself that night had been a mistake, a nightmare.

Ivar remembers how good it felt, and how overwhelming, and how easy it would have been to surrender then. For once, it could have been easy, because he trusts you and you love him and you want him and…

But no, no, it couldn’t be. Because he would fail, and he’d see the disgust in your eyes, and he’d feel the shame and the pain again, and couldn’t. So he stopped you. He had to.

He had to. Right?

Yes, of course he did. He needs to remember what his reality is, he needs to remember what failure feels like, and he needs to remember it would burn all the more if it were you he failed.

You could never fail me, Ivar, no matter what, you told him, and he knows you meant it, he trusts you, but saying something is not the same as knowing it.

And it is easy, it always is, to remember what that night felt like. The dawning horror, the pain, the humiliation, the anger. It is easy to remember, it is easy to still feel the burning shame, the anguish, the desperate need to curse and plea with the Gods for a reason why.

And because it is so easy to remember, and because his mind sometimes torments him with dreams of being in that situation again only it is your eyes looking back, and it isn’t false comfort from a slave, but your voice unfaltering and biting as you snarl at him the words he thinks of himself sometimes; that he stops you that night, and he doesn’t regret it. You don’t push since, and he’s almost thankful for that.

____

This isn’t the first night you take Valdís’ son in your arms and spend most of the feast talking with the boy and making him laugh. But it is the first time the sight leaves Ivar unable to look away.

The blonde boy looks up at you with big eyes, and your smile is unlike anything Ivar has ever seen when you look down at him.

“I haven’t told you of Achilles yet, have I?” You ask, chuckling at the eager shake of the boy’s head. “Well, he was the strongest of all men,” You tell him, exaggerating your features and the gestures of your free hand, “No sword could pierce his skin, no army was a match for him, and all of Greece knew of his fame.

Ivar knows this story, you told him many times before of the wars of your homeland and the legends the Greeks once were, when their Gods were with them. Still, he ignores everything else and focuses on the way you gesture and talk as you tell the young boy the story, while Valdís’ son looks at you with wide eyes as you recall some of the Demigod’s victories in the Trojan War and those that came before.

You lean closer to the boy, whispering your next words as if sharing a secret.

“But he had a secret weakness, something that could end him.”

“No!” He cries, surprise and innocent interest in his expression. You chuckle, but continue the tale.

“You see, he was invincible, except his heel.”

“His heel?” The boy repeats, and you nod severely. You press cold fingers against the boy’s heel, and smile when he releases a laugh.

“If he was struck there, he was just a man, no longer a fearsome warrior, no longer invincible,” You confess and finish with a sad smile, “An arrow went through his heel while he was fighting, and Achilles died.”

“But he died fighting!” The boy insists. Ivar notices your confusion at the turn of the conversation, but you still nod, murmuring your assent. The child’s expression switches from mildly anguished to determined and somewhat serene, “Then he’s in Valhalla, with all the others. I will meet him when I’m old like you and ask him to tell me more stories.”

There’s a strange glint in your eye when he says that, the same one you had when Ivar told you Keres and Valkyries sound like one and the same, the same one you have when you speak of the life beyond this one.

You shake it off soon enough, and your expression is fierce when you stare down at the shieldmaiden’s son.

“But first you ought to grow strong, and once you’ve grown you ought to fight and persevere, Aghi, so that you have stories to tell him when you meet him in Valhalla.”

“You sound like mama.”

“Because I am always right!” Valdís yells from her side of the table, and Ivar watches as you laugh at the shieldmaiden’s words, before leaning close to press a kiss to the boy’s blonde hair.

“Puts ideas in your head, doesn’t it?” Ubbe’s voice startles Ivar, and he turns to his brother with a scowl that the other man ignores, keeping his focus ahead, “She’d be a good mother.”

There’s a part of him that Ivar was never quite capable of extinguishing that wants to rely on Ubbe, wants to tell him how impossible it is for him to make you a mother, wants to trust his big brother in all the annoying and pitiful patience he still holds towards Ivar.

But he doesn’t, he would never speak of such things, not even with Ubbe. He still hears a voice tell him how pathetic and weak he was for needing your comfort when he spoke out loud about his inability to be a father.

Instead of sharing that, Ivar leans back on his chair and turns to Ubbe with raise brows.

“How come you don’t have children yet?” He asks, but there’s no malice behind his tone. Or, he doesn’t intend for it to be. With a tilt of his head, he adds, “Have you forgotten your duty to marry and breed, brother?”

Ubbe chuckles, remembering as much as Ivar -perhaps even more than he does, since he is the eldest- their mother’s words.

“Very irresponsible of me, I know.” His older brother comments, the smile turning a little bittersweet before Ubbe takes a gulp from his drink.

He won’t lie to himself and say it is his short conversation with Ubbe what makes him linger on the stupid thoughts of a family. Those thoughts, those images of a life for a very long time he hasn’t dared even think about, have been with him since you told him we can have children.

Ivar knows it should unsettle him, at least more than it already does, how easily you have made him completely trust in you. Enough to speak of the shame he has carried with him since that damn night with Margrethe, enough to believe you when you told him that there was a way to have what he wanted even if not through normal means. He’s never done things the normal way, though, has he?

He watches you put your hands up as claws in front of you, and fake a growl as you pretend to threaten Valdís’ son, and finds his lips pulling into a smile.

He wonders what stories you’d tell your children, he wonders what your sons would say of their mother, he wonders what your daughters would inherit from you.

And Ivar lets himself imagine it. He mead softens the edges of his thoughts; and your smile warms him more than the alcohol ever could; and you love him, you told him you do, and you told him one day the two of you could have a family; and he doesn’t stop himself from imagining what it would be like.

He imagines what it would be like to return home to find not only you waiting for him at the docks, but a few sons and daughters eager to hear of their father’s triumphs. You told him that his children would have his strength and his intelligence, but he wants them to have your resolve and maybe even your arrogance.

He imagines what it would be like to hear you late at night telling your children of the beasts and heroes of your homeland, only for Ivar to interrupt just as he does now, with arguments about how the world is according to his Gods and his ways. Even if not of your blood or his, your children would inherit the world if Ivar -and you, most likely- had any say in it, he knows this.

And later that night the shieldmaiden takes the boy from your arms and gives you a one-armed hug goodbye, and you make your way back to Ivar, and sit on the armrest of his chair and lean against him when his arm wraps around your waist, and he doesn’t let go of it, of that fantasy, of those images.

You are here with him, and he can pretend winter can last for as long as wishes it to.

____

The night was supposed to be as any other. The night was supposed to be one of the comfortable intimacy he’s grown to revel in and your soft touches and your words of love. He was supposed to be able to hold on to this, to you, for as long as winter lasted.

Winter was supposed to last.

But, he thinks bitterly as he undoes the last clasp on the brace of his leg, why did eh think something was going to be normal for him? Even the seasons may be different for Ivar the Boneless.

And he starts asking questions, partly because he hates it when you’re quiet, partly because he wants your voice to overpower the one that tells him she’s leaving she’s leaving she’s leaving.

Ivar knows what will win at the end. He isn’t an idiot, he knows nostalgia will win every time. He knows no matter how many times he beckons you to him you will always answer the call of your homeland, he knows a piece of land was enough of a reward to make you survive endless things and he knows that piece of land is nothing compared to having your people back with you.

He should have spared some men to find the bodies of the Greeks, to confirm to himself they were all truly dead like Stithulf said they were. Too worried with the foreign witch he wanted to bring to Kattegat, he overlooked it, and now he pays for it.

Because then, then he could have killed them all and left them in some field you’d never find out about, he could have done what Stithulf couldn’t. Then, he could have killed them all without an ounce of guilt or a moment of hesitation. Then, he wouldn’t have anything to lose by doing something unforgivable.

And so now all he can think about is how stupid he was, how foolishly blinded he let himself become; not only then, but now. Now, imagining a future with you, a family with you; imagining what stories you’d tell your sons and daughters, dreaming of an eternity with you at his side and children to tell your stories, his story.

You hesitate only for a breath when he asks you where they are now, and it is enough to make the dread and the wrath grow inside him. And for all they whisper and fear Ivar the Boneless’ rage, they don’t speak of how needed it is, of how much he depends on it.

It is the one thing holding him together, more often than not.

And he holds on to that anger when he accuses, “Are you trying to hide where they went, hm? Shield them from me?”

He doesn’t hear your answer, but he knows he interrupts you when you’re talking, and he knows that you hate it when he does that. Good. He wants you to be angry.

“I don’t need your permission or your help to find them,” He tells you, and you both know it is true. And he wants to, he wants to find them and see for himself what it is of these people and their home that is enough to take you away from him. Ivar can’t help but imagine you surrounded by your people, smile wide and warm and happy, and without him. He knows you’ve dreamt of it, that since learning they are alive you’ve probably spent so much time thinking what your reunion with the people that call you Anassa will be like. And he wants to take that from you, he wants to make the fantasy shatter before your eyes, he wants to make you see how easily stupid and pathetic fantasies of love and a future and happiness are lost. He wants you to feel like he does. And so he pushes where he knows it will hurt, he threatens your fantasy of nostalgia and reunion with what he knows can make it shatter, “I could have them all killed. Tie each of them to a pyre and burn them alive.”

There it is, the hardening of your stance, the coldness in your eyes, and though a part of him hates it, and something churns at his stomach when your voice lowers and your expression betrays nothing, this is exactly what he wanted.

He wants you to let go of foolish dreams of fields of flowers and the warmth of the sun, he wants you to let die the part of you that insists you are a daughter of Greece, he wants you to end the fantasy he knows you have to have been holding onto about returning to your Eleusis and your sunny places.

And, of course, you fight back, and your voice rises alongside your temper. Stubborn, maddening woman that you are, you refuse to back down.

He gestures with his arm and knocks over the small vase of some almost-lifeless plant you kept there, and his eyes watch it fall to the ground.

At the tip of his tongue there’s a curse about how many fucking plants you keep in this room and every other room you get your hands on, but he bites the words back -or chokes on them- because it is with horrifying certainty that he realizes the plants would die without you, and they would disappear, and the mark of you in his world would easily disappear, once you leave.

Ivar’s eyes linger on the pitiful green leaves that lay there on the floor, and he remembers you telling him about this one, he remembers seeing this one near Kattegat.

And he realizes, to his doom or his salvation, if there are such things, that this is a new plant, that you brought it here in the time he was gone, most likely after you knew about your people.

And this one and countless other little planters and vases litter the room, put there for you to look after them, promises of permanence scattered through the room you and Ivar share.

He wants to believe that is what they are. That they are proof you can find a way to keep your fields of flowers and your sunny home with you even if the place he brought you to is cold and harsh; and not desperate attempts to keep the home he took you from with you in any way possible.

He wishes he could ask, just as he wishes he could ask you why you aren’t with them, why, when you have had so many opportunities to do so, you choose to stay.

But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t want to hear the answer he already knows. That Stithulf is the one thing keeping you with him.

Later you settle against him on the bed, as warm and as soft as you always are -he doesn’t understand why he expected different-, and Ivar doesn’t resist the urge to pull you closer.

He presses his lips against you with as much softness as he can muster, with as much of the gentleness you deserve but he doesn’t have in him he can give you, and tells you that he loves you. He has loved you for a long time, longer than he cares to admit, though he doesn’t know why it is now the moment he chooses to tell you.

It is foolish, he knows it is, but the admission hurts, the admission is jagged edges and raw nerves and it speaks of the possibility of losing you. Then again, to Ivar that is what love is: jagged edges and raw nerves and the always present fear of losing.

Because his head reminds him, with his fumbled thoughts chasing one another in circles, that admitting to loving you now of all times, now that you have them waiting for you, now that you have proven to yourself and to him that you could leave Kattegat and he’d be none the wiser, now that he is unmoored and unsteady and pitifully afraid; isn’t a smart thing to do, that it is a pathetic attempt to pretend he and whatever he can offer you are enough to get you to choose to stay, and that you know it.

Though the kiss you press against his chest gives him a brisk moment of warmth, it leaves as quickly as it washes over him, and Ivar looks up at the nothingness above him as you relax into sleep.

Because he knows it isn’t enough. Love isn’t enough to keep you from your duty, from your legacy; he isn’t enough to keep you from your homeland, this realm isn’t enough to keep you from your fields of flowers.

There’s nothing he can do, even if he wants to. Even if he imagines and plans a way to find the Greeks and kill them all before they get a chance at stealing you from him, he knows that if you choose them -of you choose to leave him- there’s no binds that can keep you with him.

If you choose to leave not even iron shackles can keep you with him, because Ivar knows all he will have of you is the snarling curses and the cold and cruel glances.

And so the night goes on and he keeps unseeing eyes on the ceiling above him, holding you close and finding himself as shackled, as powerless, as he once made you. Ivar wonders briefly if your Gods have found a way to punish him for what he did, he remembers you once told him they would scorn him for taking a Hiereia and making her a slave, for taking your choice from you.

And now he is the one without a choice. If he does something to keep you, or if he doesn’t, it doesn’t matter, because one way or another, when the day comes and you choose to leave him, you will.

____ ____ ____

Thank you so much for reading, I hope this was okay, and I hope it could clarify a bit more of Ivar’s actions/reactions in Chapter 37. As for the title choice, it is mainly due ot how I like playing with the ideas of what spring and winter can mean, same as with Persephone and Hades’ roles. While Ivar of course represents Hades, it is Ivar who returns to Kattegat to kickstart the winter in Chapter 35, for example. In the case of this chapter, and Chapter 37, the winter is settling as a season, but the element of change that spring is characterized with becomes apparent in this chapter, moreso for Ivar than for the Reader; hence the title.

Sorry for the ramble, I’m a mess lol. Thank you for reading, I hope you’re doing good!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss   @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @chibisgotovalhalla @the-a-word-2214​ @fae-sedai​ @crazybunnyladysworld​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside​  

[anna-justice]

too Close for Comfort - Upstead

Summary: Throwback to the aftermath of “Lines,” in season seven. This is the conversation between Jay, Voight and Hailey that we didn’t get to see.

Warnings: swearing, PTSD?, angst

Requested: Yes! #75, “What did you need to tell me?”

…

“Shut the door.”

Hailey slammed the door of her car shut, falling breathlessly into the driver's seat. It was freezing, the air inside being even colder than the frigid wind outside. Hailey threw her head back against the seat, numb to the frosty touch, she shook ever so slightly, having left her coat on her chair in the haste to get out of the district. 

“So this is something we’re doing now?” 

Soon, the temperature began to set in and Hailey broke her trance long enough to turn her keys in her ignition, suddenly being blasted with air as cold as Chicago winter wind. She didn’t bother to turn it down, it would warm up eventually and hopefully her with it. With no feeling in her ears or her hands, she hit the steering wheel, a single tear escaping her eye. She was surprised it didn’t freeze against her cheek. She had no idea what she was doing. 

“Do you understand, you crossed the line?”

She did, she knew what she did was wrong, but she just wanted to feel something. The cold air circulated throughout her car, making it borderline inhabitable. If her fingers were moving against the dash, she didn’t know, she felt nothing. She wanted to feel something: guilt, fear, remorse, even. But she didn’t. All she knew is that she had crossed the threshold of something she couldn’t even see, and all she felt was void. Part of her thought she would be happy, or maybe prideful. She had helped put away a violent criminal and saved another man ten years of life wasted, but the Hailey that had done that wasn’t recognizable to her anymore.

“The lines, they are real clear.”

And she wished they were, in Chicago at least. She knew that at the FBI there was almost a marked path of steps on the floor to take, you couldn’t miss it. But she wished it were that easy at home. She wished that she was afraid of them, like she always was before. But everything seemed different now, ever since Jay was shot her world had been upside down. She watched him cross the line with Marcus, and then with Angela. He was just trying to do the right thing and it almost got him killed, it was so clear to Hailey. 100%, without a doubt, get Jay out of this. He was crazy, supporting the family of the man he got killed, he was too close. But then, she was too close to see that he was never going to move on, not without doing everything he possibly could to help them.

God, it was so normal. It felt like everyone around her got the benefit of the doubt but her. Letting Angela walk to keep Jay’s secret was wrong, an oversight that the old Hailey never would have made. But the old Hailey didn’t watch her partner bleed out on a basement floor, the old Hailey didn’t plant evidence in peoples cars, the old Hailey didn’t dare take a step out of line.

“I don’t want you to be me.” 

She didn’t want to be him, but she didn’t see any other way. There was no going back now. Not after Cameron’s death, not after Darius. She wasn’t the same person who walked in and spilled coffee on Platt all those years ago. She felt like a fraud, and the only person that could really see her may never forgive her. Why would he? Hailey put on her seatbelt, willing herself to drive out of the parking lot, she had a lot of packing to do. 

“Hailey, I’m starting to wonder if you can do it.” 

She did too, she wondered what happened to her. Maybe it was the job: maybe she was hardening, losing her morality or just getting bored. But it felt like so much more than that. She had a family now, a real one, and she would do anything to protect them. She loved Vanessa, and she hated seeing her hurting. Of course she had to help Luis, she couldn’t watch Vanessa spiral. She was attached, something she had never let herself be before. 

Hailey’s phone buzzed in her cup holder, bringing her back to reality. Her car had finally decided to warm up, and now she felt on the verge of overheating.

Jay Halstead: I’m at Backdoor, text me when you get here. I’ll wait to go in.

Hailey groaned, feeling her eyes well up again. She forgot that she had plans to meet Jay at their bar, it had been a rough case, a rough day. It was their thing. She was dreading it, but she had to tell him. She couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. 

…

Jay’s phone buzzed in his hand showing Hailey’s caller ID. He picked it up immediately. “Hey.” He said, a smile gracing his face.

“Hi.” She said, her voice coming through quiet and cut off.

Jay sat forward in his seat, “What’s wrong?” Worry laced thick. 

“Jay,” She said, almost like she was bracing herself. “I’m going to New York.” 

“What?” The words just kind of fell out of his mouth.

He heard Hailey take a deep breath on the line, “Voight is loaning me out to the FBI, the field office in New York. I leave tomorrow.” 

“I don’t understand…” Jay trailed off, “Why?”

“I-I messed up Jay.” She said, her voice breaking. “I did something really stupid and I guess this is my punishment.” 

Jay was seething and he wasn’t exactly sure why, “He can’t do this, he can’t just ship you off-”

“He can and he did.” Hailey cut him off. They were quiet for a moment. “I should go, I need to pack and my flight is early. I just wanted to tell you.” 

“Uh, yeah, of course.” Jay stumbled over his words. “Thank you, for letting me know.” 

Hailey breathed out a little laugh, “You think I would just disappear in the middle of the night?”

Jay froze for a second, she didn’t understand the weight of her own words. “You? No. Just, still, I appreciate it.” He had a million questions, but it seemed like she wasn’t really up for answers. 

“You’re my partner,” She said without hesitation, “And you will still be my partner when I’m there and you will still be my partner when I get back.”

Those words were his anchor, she was coming back. “Damn right.” He paused, “Get some sleep and text me before you take off, so I know you got through security okay.”

“Of course. Goodnight Jay.”

“Goodnight Hailey, have a safe trip.” And with that the line went dead.

Jay could feel his blood boiling, he smoothly threw the truck back into gear and high tailed it out of the parking lot. There was someone he needed to talk to.

…

10 minutes later Jay burst into Voight’s office. “You’re sending Hailey to New York?”  

Voight put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, he should have seen this coming. “The FBI needs a loan out officer, I thought it would be a good opportunity.” He said, calmly. 

Jay paced around the small office, his hands resting on his hips. He was so mad he couldn’t form a sentence. “How could you do this to me? Again?” 

“This isn’t about you Jay…” Voight said, his voice getting a little louder. 

Jay scoffed, “Like hell it is.” They stared each other down for a moment. “Kevin would have loved this chance, Adam too, and you’re telling me that Kim didn’t need an escape right now?” He didn’t understand why it had to be Hailey, punishment or not. “Why Hailey?”

“Upton knows why.” Voight said shortly.

“Then tell me!” Jay exclaimed, exasperated. “I’m her partner.” 

Voight stood, throwing the file he was reading down on his desk. “She needs this.”

“Well, I need her.” Jay snapped, gripping the back of the chair in front of him. 

Voight scoffed, “Jay, I told you a long time ago that if you want to be in my unit, you keep it in your pants.” 

“Oh, believe me,” Jay spat. “It’s in.” He sighed. “Hank, I can’t lose another partner to the feds. I can’t start over again.”

Voight took a breath, looking at the hurting young man in front of him. “Erin leaving was hard on me too, but ultimately it was her choice. She chose to leave and not come back. I gave Upton a temporary assignment, she is welcome back wherever she is ready.”

She is coming back, she is coming back, she is coming back. He almost felt like he was manifesting it. “What is she doesn’t?”

“Then that’s her choice.” Hank said, “Either way, you are yelling at the wrong person right now. Go home Jay.” 

Jay nodded, “Yeah, okay.” 

“See you tomorrow.”

Jay gave him a short nod before quickly leaving the office. He was feeling so many things he could barely stand it. He was embarrassed for blowing up on Voight and basically admitting his feelings for his partner to his boss. He was dreading the next few weeks without Hailey, he was dreading the constant stress of her deciding to stay. He was sad, all this New York talk was dredging up old memories, ones he wished he could just erase. He was angry, but he wasn’t sure who he was even mad at. And now he was scared, because somehow his truck ended up outside of Hailey’s house. 

He wasn’t sure why he was there or what he was going to say, but he just needed to see her. Jay made his way to the front door, knocking. The door swung open to reveal Vanessa, looking a bit more disheveled than normal. “Hey.” Jay said, he had forgotten about the roommate situation. 

“She’s upstairs.” The young officer said, skipping all niceties. 

Jay nodded, “Thanks.” He looked up the staircase, debating just calling her downstairs. This felt like a line they have never crossed, one he wasn’t sure either of them were ready for, but tonight wasn’t the night for playing it safe. He made his way up the carpeted stairs, the pictures hanging along the wall catching his eye. He was surprised to see that he was in most of them. 

There was on at the very top of just the two of them, he remembered the day it was taken like it was yesterday. They had just made a big bust, Voight and Antonio had taken the suspect in while the rest of the unit stayed behind to work with patrol. They were all so excited to finally get the guy off the street, it was one of those really good days on the job. He was pretty sure Kim took the picture, but they were both leaning against a squad car. You can’t see it, but Jay had his arm resting on Hailey’s back while hers and his other one held their vests. She was leaning against his, grinning like she normally was. 

When he willed himself to leave memory lane, he made his way to the top of the stairs, wandering for a moment down the hall to what he assumed was Hailey’s room. He met the threshold and was taken aback. Hailey had his back to him, an open suitcase on her bed. There were clothes everywhere in different folded piles and strewn across the floor. He knocked on the door frame and Hailey turned around immediately. “Hey,” He said quietly.

“Uh, hi.” She said, running a hand through her hair. She had on leggings and an oversized t-shirt, something that Jay had never seen her in. “What are you doing here?” 

Jay shrugged, “I just wanted to see you before you left. Make sure you were okay.” 

Hailey shook her head, going back to throwing things in the suitcase. “I’m fine, Jay.” 

Jay took a step into the room and then a few more, crossing yet another line. He made his way to Hailey, trying not to get distracted by the fact that he was standing less than two feet from her bed. “Hailey, talk to me.” 

Hailey sighed, “This is a really good opportunity, but I’m not sure I’m ready, and I don’t think I even want it. Is that ungrateful? This whole thing just feels tainted.” 

“Hailey you are a good cop, if anyone deserves this, it’s you.” Jay said softly.

“Jay, you don’t know what I did-”

“It doesn’t matter Hailey.” Jay said, cutting her off. “No matter what you did, you are going to kick ass in New York.” He was being completely serious, even if it was the last thing he wanted, he knew she was going to thrive there. “You’ve got this.” He stood up to leave, he couldn’t lay all his fears and worry on her now, he had to be supportive. 

“Jay-”

“Have a good trip Hailey, call or text whenever you want.” His chest felt tight as he reached the doorway, debating not looking back at her. Every part of him knows he needs to walk out that door, but he can’t forget all the times this has happened before. “What were you going to tell me?”

“Jay, I don’t want to leave.” Hailey calls across the room. 

There are a million things he wants to say, but not now. Not right before she flies 800 miles away. “I don’t want you to leave either.” 

Hailey gives him a soft smile, it’s enough confirmation for them both. She’s leaving, but she will be back. And for then,that was enough.

…

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this fic, I haven’t done one like it in a long time. I got the inspiration for this while listening to Meet us at Molly’s @meetusatmollys (check out this podcast on Podbean, you won’t regret it!). Thank you for reading! <3

P.S. comment/reblog to be added to my one-shot tag list

[blissfulsun]

I said fuck havin’ a chill night to myself and finally cooked this up for u guys. First excerpt from the TWENTY88 series & its mature so enjoy at your discretion✨

word count: 1,829

Déjà Vu • Jeff Wittek

He’s at another party, LA skyline so pretty dusted in pink from the roof top view that Jeff almost forgets why he’s stepped away from the fun.

You’re on his mind.

All he can hear in the music is your ringing laughter, body dancing in the crowd, on the tables, on him is the only vision clear behind his blurry eyes.

He’s fucked, truly. How is your name still the only one he can remember when his own is slurred in his mouth?

You’re in bed on the other side of town, Friday night spent under the bed sheets hiding from the real world but your phone still clutched in your hands.

The right side of the bed used to be warm with his presence, limbs tangled with no care for the messages blowing up your notifications begging to come out.

Jeff would always come through like that, only pick up the phone on the first ring when it’s your name lighting up his screen.

Fuck you into the mattress and then braid your hair before bed, TV replaying old episodes of a show you don’t care about, not when the other is laid bare right under your hands.

You almost call, thumb hovering over the number that’s been blocked for months before now. 

The doorbell ringing is a good enough distraction for now.

You can’t help but wonder if it’s a sign, a three note sound that echoes in your brain as a warning while your bare feet skip down the stairs and to the front door.

It feels like the universe is mocking you when it opens to Jeff’s looming figure on the other side. 

‘Can I help you?’ There’s no smile gracing your pretty mouth, arms folded over your chest as you lean against the door and silently block his way inside.

A couple minutes ago he was all you could think about, withdrawal a delicious kind of torture that almost had you calling him over, pride and mind aside. 

There’s no relief in the way you look each other in the eye.

Jeff leans closer, figurative first step in the way his breath stutters in his chest at the sight of you with nothing but a t-shirt and panties illuminated by the hallway lights. 

‘Missed me doll?’ He’s almost inside, one foot through the door and you can’t decide whether you want him to stop or keep going.

It’s eerily reminiscent of every argument you’ve ever had, each fall out that only resulted in him showing up at your door in the middle of the night just like this.

Except it’s been nearly six months since Jeff has called you his, since you slammed the door behind you, bags in tow and a ‘I never want to see you again’ said as goodbye. 

Your mind is conflicted, always has been when he’s both the person who’s causes you pain and then wipes your eyes dry.

Don’t let him inside, your mind screams, flashbacks of how he’s walked around all fine, like the two of you were nothing, a thing of the past.

Jeff finds his way inside, always does, through the tiniest crack in your armour that’s been your body missing his touch tonight, the ghost of a smirk is already there, lifting his mouth before your fingers wrap around the collar of his leather jacket and pull him down to meet your lips. 

He tastes almost the same, cigarettes and honey that wraps around your tongue as you moan in his mouth.

‘Missed you’ Jeff mumbles, hands grabbing at you anywhere he can, body pushing you against the door as it closes with a slam.

The whine that leaves your lips when he pulls away makes him smirk for half a second, hooded eyes staring down at the pretty picture: you’re crushed between the wood and his hardened body, pink lips wet with his saliva, every breath stuttered.

Jeff looks you in the eye as he guides his hands under the t-shirt you wore to bed, it’s not his and the thought of you no longer finding comfort in wearing his clothes at night almost drives him as wild as your hands pulling your panties down simutaneously with his lifting the material over your head. 

‘Fuck...’ You look far too smug, lips lifting in half a smirk at the way Jeff’s eyes fall to your chest and down to your glistening core before he’s on you again.

The kiss makes your knees tremble, his revenge executed as he sucks on your tongue. 

‘You want it against the wall or upstairs baby?’ Jeff pulls away long enough to ask, taking his chance to nip at your earlobe as he awaits your answer.

You’re intoxicating every one of his senses, mouth sweet with the taste of your skin, replacing any last drop of liquor left inside his mind. 

Your only answer is wrapping your thighs around his middle, hands clutching at the ends of his hair while Jeff laughs before twirling the two of you around to make his way up the stairs.

You don’t give yourself time to notice just how much longer his hair has gotten, lips wrapping around the skin of his throat, kisses littered in purples that force him to grip your ass in warning. 

The room is different, walls repainted and frames missing from their rightful place. Jeff pauses in his rediscovery of the place when your fingers rip the leather jacket from his body.

The touch is igniting, warmth spreading within his chest as you remove every last article of clothing from his body.

He convinces himself it’s the way your fingers rake down the expanse of his exposed torso that sets his heart racing rather that the familiarity of having your frame so painstakingly close again. 

He shakes his head as if to get rid of the thought. ‘M gonna devour you’ the promise is almost growled as you fall against the satin sheets of your king sized bed as Jeff follows, crawling on top of you. 

‘Shut the fuck up’ you can’t help but beg while pulling him back to meet your mouth. It’s messy, teeth clashing as you take your last chance to battle for even a slither of control.

One of you moans, a broken cry swallowed up by your mouths before Jeff pulls away to watch you writhe under him at the slightest touch. 

‘Missed you angel, so fuckin’ bad’ he repeats.

You roll your eyes, almost ask him to be quiet again when the words die on your tongue as his fingers slip to your warm core and massage around your clit. 

‘That’s my girl’ your body arches off the bed, broken cries his favourite melody.

It makes Jeff slid down until he’s face to face with his favourite sight, you’re glistening, the smell heady and so intoxicating it makes him nuzzle you without warning. 

He pulls away far enough to add, ‘missed this pussy’ before licking up your folds, tongue lapping as you buck your hips for more.

The slurping sounds of his mouth greedily encompassing around your clit is pornographic, bouncing off the bare walls, cold fingers gripping your thighs to keep them open for him. 

The sight of you almost makes him cum without reciprocated touch: brows furrowed and lips formed into an ‘o’ that sends Jeff’s mind reeling with memories of those same pretty lips wrapped around his dick in the past.

You taste even better that he remembered, mind drifting and mouth salevating at the haunting recollections late at night: sweetness he’s been deprived of for months. 

‘What the fu-’ you protest at the absence of his mouth before he moves to hover of you.

‘Sorry doll, ‘m gonna lick you clean later - need to be inside you right now before I bust’ he confesses.

There’s no fumbling for his wallet, no scooting up to the chest of draws by your bedside or sound of wrapper tearing as you stretch your legs wide open to welcome him inside.

Jeff groans at the feeling, velvety and tight in the way you wrap around him like a vice.

He’s the only one you’ve ever let have you like this: raw and animalistic in spite of the comfort of having him this close that echoes in your mind. 

The thoughts silenced by the feeling of his hips slotting against your own as he bottoms out.

 ‘Please’ Jeff smiles, ‘please what doll?’ in any other instance you’d smack your lips and roll your eyes at the boyish pride that dances behind his darkened eyes.

This time, you concede. ‘Please fuck me, hard’ 

Jeff pauses, long enough to take a mental snapshot of the way you feel under his hands, soft and pliant to the touch.

He knows how much you want it, his own mind flooded with a wanton reminder of what used to be, what he had every night.

The way to keep that at bay presents itself in the bone shattering thrusts he sets with an unrelenting pace. 

You take it all as his fingers dig into your sides, one hand travelling to pull at your hair so harsh it leaves a burning sensation on your scalp.

It’s enough to have you toeing the line between pain and pleasure within minutes, moans pretty as they leave your mouth every time he slams his tip against your g spot. 

Jeff grabs your face, hold forceful in a silent reminder to open your eyes and let him watch you come undone. 

‘Come on doll, be a good girl and come for daddy’ he kisses you again, still tasting faintly of tequila he knows you fucking hate. 

‘On my cock, c’mon you can do it’ you open your mouth to say something that gets lost in between the onslaught of curses and high pitched moans of his name as you finally cum.

Jeff follows, on the brink of something so spectacular in how you tighten around his length and pull him in with each thrust, his eyes watching your own close before he shoots his load and paints your walls in milky white. 

The weight of his body crushing your own once he falls atop you in the aftermath is too comforting to allow any protests past your sore throat, at least for now.

It’s deja vu, how you fall asleep wrapped up so tightly in each other once he finally pulls out only to pull you back atop his chest and against the pillows as you each drift off to avoid the conversation that should follow.

Jeff wants to ask you if you’ve missed him half as much as he’s longed for you since July, instead, he kisses the top of your head as your gentle snores lull him to sleep.

You almost blink the exhaustion away for long enough to tell him to either leave or stay forever, but the darkness envelopes you before either course altering demand leaves your mouth.