#this is pretty much how i worded it when i told it to my mom

[jo-harrington]

Blueberry Muffin (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: Eddie notices you're good at sharing your food. A little too good.

Pairings/Relationships: Older!Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings/Themes: Established relationship, Food/Eating, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Brief mention of financial concerns, Discussion of trauma from previous relationships

Note: This is something entirely personal to me, it was something my ex did one-upon-a-time ago. But, like with everything else, Eddie Munson is a powerful tool to help you get over some of your issues. This fic might not be the best, but it helped me work through some old issues. And I'm pretty proud of that.

Shoutout to @undead-supernova who inspired me to write this while we were chatting about her excellent fic We Are Going To Be Friends, and @dr-aculaaa who is one of my lifetime mutual trauma ride-or-dies and told me my ex was actually trash (and they were trash).

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

If there was one thing that was the key to yours and Eddie's relationship, it was food.

Before there even had been a relationship, food had been one of the keystones of your friendship. You met at a friend's thanksgiving potluck, you always planned your outings around where you'd eat and the snacks you’d get, and during the group road trip up to Milwaukee for Mac and Cheese Fest, he'd finally gotten the courage to ask you out.

Food was life. You both agreed.

You were always good about sharing your food.

You, as in the two of you, sure. But specifically you.

It wasn't until the two of you were together and spent more time alone with each other that Eddie realized just how good you were at sharing.

Actually, good wasn't the right word.

Meticulous was more accurate.

If you took a bite of his burger when you went out for dinner, he had to have a bite of your pasta.

If you bought a pint of ice cream to share during movie night, you matched each bite spoon for spoon. However, if after a certain point of sharing he insisted that you could have the rest of the pint because it was your favorite flavor, the pint would inevitably make it back into the freezer without another spoonful taken.

On and on it went.

He tried to ignore it, but once he noticed it, it was hard not to.

At first, he thought that it was some relic of a less-than well-off childhood. Like Eddie, you'd grown up with a single parent and were occasionally foisted off on well-intentioned relatives to watch you while your mom worked. Thankfully, food was never scarce for either of you, but the fact that you'd been forced to grow up quicker than the others made you aware of generic-branded groceries and your mothers stretching their dollars and the pursing of lips when the bills came for special occasion meals out.

After a while, though, that reasoning disappeared. Yes, there were still habits that you formed from your mother's frugality but never to the point of anxiety.

This was something else.

And it all came to a head the day you brought home a bag of leftovers from work.

"Tom always orders too much when the execs visit the warehouse," you explained excitedly as you proudly showed off a plastic container of some gourmet salad and a few wax paper-wrapped sandwiches.

Then came the pastries.

A cherry danish you grabbed for Eddie specifically, and a pistachio-cream filled croissant that Eddie had heard you gush about a million times over. A few tiny cream puffs that both of you eagerly popped into your mouths.

And one blueberry muffin.

"Oh!" You faltered at the sight of it and then looked back into the obviously empty paper bag. "I thought there had been two."

"That's ok," Eddie shrugged. "We can just split it."

"No!" you snapped at him, your eyes wide. "You can have it."

"Sweetheart, I know you love muffins as much as I do," Eddie scoffed. "We'll just split it. No big deal. It's a pretty big muffin."

He watched as you worried at your lower lip for a long, drawn out moment before you nodded.

He kissed the side of your head and turned to grab plates and drinks. He carried as much as he could out to the living room so you could eat dinner in front of the TV. When he returned to your side to grab the food and start plating up your plunder, he stopped in his tracks at what he found.

Splitting a muffin was a no-brainer, typically. Or so Eddie thought. Just peel the paper lining and split that sucker in half. But there you stood, knife held in a shaky hand, shifting back and forth a few millimeters every so often, trying to find the exact equator of the confection before you so it could be cut in equal halves.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked as gently as he could, but you still flinched, and when you looked up at him, your eyes looked glassy.

"Just cutting the muffin in half," you tried to laugh and play it off, but Eddie could see through the facade.

"It's just a muffin," he tried to offer, as though reminding you that it was, indeed, just a muffin would break you from this fit.

"It is," you looked down again, almost in shame. "Isn't it?"

He let you have a second, let you put the knife down and take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. When you nodded and held yourself a little more confidently, Eddie closed the distance and split the muffin in half by hand, right down the middle along the score line you had started.

And he pretended that he didn't notice the way you'd held your breath while he did it.

"Let's have dinner then," he suggested.

---

"You gonna tell me what all that was about?" Eddie asked once dinner was almost over, his mouth full of cherry danish, crumbs spewing from his lips as he spoke.

You ignored him for a second, picked at your own laminated pastry, until he continued.

"You know I always thought your mom really hammered the sharing is caring thing with you. But you went full King Solomon on that muffin and...I know that look in your eyes because I've seen it in the mirror a ton of times. That was fear. That was pain. So, are we gonna talk about it?"

You sighed and considered telling him no, you wouldn't be telling him jack shit, but...how many times had you pried into things that you really had no place asking about and he still told you anyway. That's how communication worked; that's how a relationship worked.

And that was how you got into this mess wasn't it?

"You remember my shitty ex?" you began tentatively, with a question.

"Shitty ex Number 1," Eddie scoffed. "Or shitty ex Number 2?"

"Number two."

"Should've known," he said under his breath but nodded for you to continue. "Alright, so what else did they do?"

Because the list had been...extensive already, you were loath to admit.

But you were with Eddie now, and things were infinitely better. You could work through these hurdles with him.

"It all started when we still worked at the mall together," you began. "Before we even started dating, actually. We'd meet on breaks and shoot the shit and one day, the little bakery only had one blueberry muffin."

You glared at the split muffin sitting on a plate on the coffee table, as though it was at fault, and not your ex.

"We decided to split it. Nothing wrong with that. We only had a fifteen, it was just a snack. But when they went to split the muffin...they took the muffin top, and left me with the stump."

"The...stump?" Eddie asked slowly, unable to comprehend.

"Yeah," you leaned forward and tapped on the base of the muffin that had previously been encased in paper. "The stump."

"That's...only assholes split a muffin that way." He paused and considered it. "But it's Shitty Ex Number Two. So I shouldn't expect anything less."

"I didn't think anything of it then," you continued. "Or the next hundred times we split a blueberry muffin on breaks, even when we started dating. They would always get the delicious, crispy, sugary muffin top, and I would always get the stump. Half-clinging to the wrapper, maybe a blueberry burned on the bottom. Never an equal half, always less-than!

"Until one day, there was this especially delicious looking muffin. It wasn't even at the mall, we were on a real date! At a real, nice bakery. With blueberry muffins, because that was our thing, and I made the mistake of asking if I could have the muffin top. Just once. And they looked at me like...like I just asked them to sacrifice their mother or something."

You felt your lip tremble, and the familiar sting of tears in your eyes.

That sense of loathing that you always felt when you thought of that moment, or really any time you got a blueberry muffin.

You took a breath and said, "they just told me that if I really loved them, I would let them have the damn muffin top. Because it was their favorite."

"That's bullshit!" Eddie got to his feet, arms thrown up in the air. "Sorry sweetheart, that's bullshit and, I'm sorry but, you deserved so much better. You deserve to have half a muffin. Half of the whole muffin, not just the stump. Fuck, you deserve the whole damn muffin yourself! It’s just a muffin!"

"I know!" You shouted back at him, causing him to stop his ranting and raving. "Don't you think I know that? It’s just a muffin and I shouldn’t have had to make myself accept less than what I deserved but it was the first in a long line of things where they made me feel like I wasn’t worth half. I wasn’t worth anything. And if I tried to prove that I was, to them and to myself, I would look crazy. Because it’s just a muffin.

“That's why I started...that's why I started taking what I deserved. I started taking half, instead of giving everything Eddie. If you get a bite, I get a bite. With everything. Because I deserve it!"

You thought of the way you had to meticulously tried to split the blueberry muffin earlier.

"Maybe...maybe I take it a little too far sometimes," you muttered, letting the tears finally fall. "Because I don't want to be selfish like they were, and take more from you than you deserve."

"Baby," Eddie dropped back onto the couch and corralled you into his embrace, pecking kisses to the side of your head. "Who fucking cares? Don't worry about me. Shit, I'll give you anything you want. I'll take anything you leave behind. I'll give you my whole cheeseburger at Benny's, if only you asked for it. And if you left me one singular pickle chip, I'd take it without complaint."

"I would never ask you," you laughed wetly.

“No, but you could ask, that’s the point. And I would give it to you.”

"I know I could. And I know you would...I just...I can't break myself from the habit. Not yet, at least."

"I get it," Eddie said into your hair as he continued dropping kisses. "The shitty exes leave their scars and you do your best to keep from opening the wounds up again. I get it."

You knew. You both had your fair share of scars.

---

It took a few minutes, as you basked in one another's comforting presence, before you inevitably shared the damn muffin you brought home. Eddie insisted on letting you take an extra bit off his muffin top, even when you rolled your eyes and told him to stop.

Neither of you brought it up again for a few days, but you both were a little more conscientious when you shared food.

You made nachos for his Friday night DnD session with the guys and he left you the core nacho that held everything together; it was extra gooey with cheese, and loaded with jalapeños. You made sure to take an extra big bite of his pint of rocky road when he offered, even if he didn't want a single bite of your rum raisin. And when it was his turn to take bites of your food, you didn't pay attention to how much or how little he took.

It still felt a little wrong, but it was insanely healing. You didn't need to worry about keeping things fair and equal with Eddie; your relationship was already fair and you were equals.

And of course, Eddie kept your revelation at the forefront of his mind to hold you accountable to your own bullshit. He noticed when you fell into old habits before you could and even came up with a form of punishment if you subconsciously made sure to take the same number of bites off a shared plate as he did:

He would give you a vegetable off his plate.

"I'm not a fan of broccoli anyway," he grinned cheekily, waving his fork with the aforementioned green in front of your face one night at dinner.

"You're an idiot," you shook your head, but took the bite regardless.

It was slow and steady, but you were getting over the hurdle together.

Then one day, the unexpected happened.

You were at work, doing your little mindless computer work as you did, when your coworker called your name from the front of the office.

"Is it your birthday or something?" Jill laughed as she hauled something through the sea of cubicles.

"No, did someone get me flowers or something?" you asked and stood from your desk to meet her halfway.

"You can't eat flowers," she said as she turned the corner, holding a massive basket.

Full of blueberry muffins.

You didn't need to read the card tied to the cellophane-wrapped basket full of baked goods to know who it was from, but you did anyway to satisfy your coworkers' curiosity.

And they didn't quite understand it, but it made your heart melt.

I didn't ask if they sold a basket of only the tops, because I didn't want them to think either of us were sociopaths. It’s just a blueberry muffin. But you're worth every muffin in this damn basket, sweetheart. Never forget that. Love, Eddie

[caitified]

Do a fic for when Kate discovered that her wife was pregnant and how she told everyone of the team, you could also talk about how was the pregnancy

baby

kate martin x reader

warnings: ivf and pregnancy! going back in time a bit for those who have read my other kate family stories.

kate’s hands trembled slightly as she held the test in front of her, her wide eyes darting between the little screen and your face. you couldn’t quite tell if the tears forming in her eyes were from joy, shock, or a mixture of both.

you had been waiting for her to get home from practice all day, your nerves building with each passing hour. the positive test had been sitting in your pocket, burning a hole through the fabric as you tried to focus on anything other than the massive news you were about to share.

kate had barely walked through the door when you blurted, “i need to tell you something.”

her forehead creased in concern as she kicked off her sneakers. “what’s wrong? are you okay?”

you shook your head quickly, stepping closer and pulling the test out of your pocket. “no, nothing’s wrong. actually, everything’s perfect.”

her eyes darted down to the object in your hand, and for a moment, she froze. “is that…?”

you nodded, unable to hold back the tears that welled in your eyes. “kate, we did it. i’m pregnant.”

kate’s jaw dropped, her bag slipping from her shoulder to the floor. “oh my god,” she whispered, reaching out to take the test from you, her fingers brushing yours.

“it’s real,” you murmured, your voice shaky but full of awe.

kate let out a breathless laugh, staring at the test as though it were the most precious thing in the world. then she dropped it onto the counter and pulled you into her arms, holding you as tightly as she could. she buried her face in the crook of your neck, her body shaking with a mixture of laughter and tears.

“we’re having a baby,” she mumbled, her voice muffled against your skin.

you felt tears prick at your own eyes as you clung to her. “we’re having a baby.”

it had been months of waiting, hoping, and holding your breath, and now it was real. you were pregnant with your daughter, a miracle born from countless doctor’s appointments, late-night conversations, and unwavering support from kate every step of the way.

kate finally pulled back to look at you, her face lit with a smile so bright it made your heart ache. “you’re incredible,” she said, cupping your face in her hands. “i don’t even know how to put into words how much i love you.”

“you don’t have to,” you replied, leaning into her touch. “just love our little girl as much as you love me.”

kate laughed, brushing her thumb over your cheek. “she’s already got my whole heart, just like her mom.”

you both stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other and the overwhelming joy of what was to come. when kate finally pulled you toward the couch, settling in with you wrapped in her arms, she tilted her head thoughtfully.

“we have to tell the team,” she said, with you curled up against her.

you groaned, hiding your face in her shoulder. “do we have to tell everyone? you know they’re never going to let us hear the end of it.”

kate chuckled, stroking your hair. “babe, they’re going to be so excited. plus, it’s going to get out eventually, and i’d rather they hear it from us than from some random gossip site.”

you sighed, knowing she was right. “fine. but you’re doing most of the talking.”

“deal,” kate agreed with a grin.

🫂🫂🫂

the next day, kate gathered her las vegas aces teammates at the team facility, promising there was “big news” to share. the group was buzzing with curiosity, and you could feel your nerves mounting as everyone settled in.

“alright, everyone,” kate started, standing at the front of the room with her arm around you. “we’ve got something pretty exciting to share.”

a’ja was the first to pipe up, her grin mischievous. “you two finally getting a dog?”

“better,” kate replied, her smile widening as she glanced at you.

the room went quiet, everyone hanging on her next words. kate took your hand, squeezing it gently.

“we’re having a baby.”

for a moment, the room was completely silent. then, chaos erupted.

cheers, squeals, and excited chatter filled the air as the team surged forward, wrapping the two of you in hugs and bombarding you with questions.

“when did you find out?” “how far along are you?” “oh my god, is it a boy or a girl?”

kate fielded the questions with ease, her hand never leaving yours as she proudly shared the news.

“it’s a girl,” she said, her voice full of pride. “our little girl.”

the team melted at that, and a’ja immediately started brainstorming baby names while kelsey demanded that she would be the cool aunt.

amidst all the excitement, you caught kate’s eye, and she gave you a look that said everything she didn’t need to say out loud.

thanks for reading! requests are open and feel free to give me ideas for their family.

[faghubby]

Growing

I came home for Thanksgiving from college I had only been away a few months but I missed home. After the first night with mom and Dad. I met up with some of my friends.

I met up with Josh who was now hanging out with Devan. Josh and I went way back to grade school together. Devan was the star Basketball player I only knew by reputation. But Josh had some edibles and we all got pretty high hanging out in the old baseball field. A few other people showed up and added some drinking to the mix. At one point I was sitting in the dugout when Devan came over and sat next to me. He was really close. Like I could feel his body heat.

"So do anything crazy at school he asked me" I was pretty gone. And mumbled an answer. "Dana is has a great ass" he stated.

"She sure does, I love to get with her" I said. As I did I felt Devan's large hand slide over my crotch.

"What are you doing" I said startled. He pushed his finger to my lips and without a word shoved his hand down my pants. It was dark and no one could see. The drugs, alcohol or just stunned I didn't move as he gave me a handjob. As I came in my pants he just smiled and walked away. Later on the way home with Josh,

"So what's Devan's story?" I asked. I was straight and had never had a man touch me it just seemed so wierd.

"What do you mean?" Josh shot back nervously.

"Nothin, just how you to start hanging out" I asked

"He likes knows all the girls" Josh answered like that was an answer. "Rumor has it because he has a big dick"

"Yeah, that's what they say about all black guys" I said dismissing him.

It was a few days later. I was over at Lisa's house she was having a little party. Just about 10 of us. When I got up to use the bathroom Devan came up behind me pushing me in he quickly closed the door. He was a foot taller then me and much stronger. He pushed me against the wall and kissed me. His tounge forcing it's way into my mouth. His hand cupped my ass. I was powerless. I was shaking so scared. I felt his cock pressing against my leg. God was that all cock. I thought to myself. He unbuckled my pants his tounge still in my mouth. I still had to pee as he stroked my now hard dick. I started to kiss him back as he did. He used his other hand to guide me to his bulge. Curiosity got the best of me and I felt hos cock running my hand over it.

"I knew you like it" he whispered finally breaking the kiss. He again made me cum this time I shot my load on the bathroom floor.

"Ever been with a black guy" he whispered in my ear.

"No I am straight" I responded as he still had me pinned against the wall.

"Are you sure?" He smiled glancing down I realized I was still rubbing his cock thru his pants. I quickly pulled my hand away. Devan let me go and left I had to really pee now. As I came out a moment later. I ran straight into Lisa who was waiting for me.

"Paul" she said surprised. "Devan likes girlie boys" she said softly with a smile.

"What do you mean?" I asked like I had no idea what she was talking about. She handed me a pair of panties they where still warm. She just smiled. And walked away. Did she think I was gay? Was she hitting on me? What the hell should I do? I smelled the panties then stuffed them in my pocket. The party started to break up and I headed home. I was walking it was only two blocks. But as I turned the corner Devan stepped out of the shadows and grabbed me.

"We have some real privacy" he told me as he pulled me into his apartment.

"Devan, I'm not" I started but he started to strip me. I didn't fight him. I was in shock. Then he dropped his pants his cock coming free. He guided his hand down. I grasped his cock it was huge. I looked down placing both my hands on it.

"Show me your place" Devan hissed. I looked up at him. "Lisa gave you something" I nodded then looked down at my jeans.

"Put them on and kiss my cock" he ordered pushing me down. I put on Lisa's panties they were loose. Not having her hips to hold them up.

"You are skinny little thing" Devan laughed. I was kneeling staring at his cock. He smacked my face with the massive muscle. Then pushed it into my mouth. I had no idea what to do. I wasn't even experienced with girls doing this to me. I sucked and licked the tip. It tasty salty. I thought about his precum. And started to lick the sides of his cock avoiding the tip. He just stood there and let me do whatever I wanted. He eventually started to breath heavy. I knew he must be getting close and started to stroke him. He grunted as the first shot from his cock came out like a bullet hitting me in the face. He then stuffed the tip of his cock in my mouth. I gagged as he flooded my mouth with cum. It was awful. Devan picked me up. He held me my feet not touching the ground, I felt like a child.

"Lisa will help you, like she help you're friend Josh" Devan told me. He put me back down let me go rinse my mouth and clean my face before I got dressed. I don't know why but I kept Lisa's panties on wearing them under my jeans as I walked home. I laid in bed wondering why I had let Devan do what he did. I found myself getting aroused again. I shook it off and went to sleep

I woke in the morning to a text from Lisa. CAN YOU COME OVER TODAY

ABOUT 12 I responded. I got up and showered I didn't think about what had happened with Devan. I was more focused on being hopefully hooking up with Lisa.

"Hey sweety" Lisa smiled as she answered the door. I followed her inside. She led me straight to her room.

"So I heard you love big black cock" Lisa laughed.

"Who been saying that crap?" I said angrily.

"Don't sweety, I saw the video" Lisa smiled. "Now Devan would love you to be as femine as you can" Lisa held up a razor.

"Lisa I can explain" I started. She sat on her bed and waited for my explanation. "Devan forced me" I said. Lisa grabbed the remote and a video of me on my knees sucking Devon's cock started to play.

"Okay, I " I said dropping my head.

"Now Devan likes his pretty boys hairless" Lisa smiled. She had me strip. I found it exciting to be naked in front of her. She ignored it. Instead she lathered me in hair removal gel. I wanted to cry as I watched all my body hair simply wash off me and gather in the shower drain. Lisa waited for me to exit the shower. She handed me a fluffy towel. I dried myself off. Lisa handed me a pair of pink panties with little flowers and lace trim.

"They are Kathy's (her 14 year old sister) she watched as I slid them on. They fit not like the ones she had given me last night. Lisa sat me down and styled my hair. And applied makeup. Just as she finished I heard someone else was home. The door opened and in walked Josh.

Josh simple walked over to me and dropped his pants.

"It's okay Paulie, it's good practice" Lisa told me guiding my head to his cock. He was much smaller then Devan but still bigger then me. Lisa rubbed my nipples as I took Josh in my mouth.

"He doesn't even resist" Lisa said. "Not like you did" she commented to Josh. He was also hairless I realized.

"Are you going to fuck her?" Lisa asked.

"No Devan wants her virginity" Josh told her. "Maybe we should dye her hair blonde" the more they talked the more scared and excited I became.

"Lick his balls, men love their balls sucked ever so gently" Lisa told me. I did as she said. As I moved to do so I felt her hands pull my panties down. She rubbed lube against my asshole. And gently pushed her finger in. I cupped Josh's ass. As he came in my mouth. I gagged but tried to swallow his sperm.

Josh helped me up Lisa still had two fingers in my ass.

"Devan tried this shit on me. But I only let him stroke me off. I guess you just love cock. Faggot" He spat in my face.

"Don't you will make her cry" Lisa laughed. Lisa removed her fingers and pushed something harder and larger up my ass. She fixed my panties but the front was all wet.

"OH someone got really excited" Lisa laughed. She rushed out of the room and returned with fresh pair off panties. She had me change Josh sat on the bed and watched. She put a pantyliner into he baby blue panties with butterfly's all over them. She added a matching bra. She adjusted the straps. She then produced a off the shoulder purple dress it stopped mid thigh.

"Pantyhose!" Lisa said as if she remembered. And rushed back out of the room and returned rolling them up I sat as she slid them up my legs.

"Damn she looks hot, I would of fucked her years ago if I had known" Josh laughed. He grabbed my ass. Lisa added a simple necklace. And a spritz of perfume.

"These are going to be a bit tight" as she slid a pirate of heels on my feet. "Now sit and wait I am so horny now" Lisa said ripping her sweat pants off and jumping g in bed with Josh. I watched as he sucked her breasts and then fucked Lisa. All I could do was sit and watch. Josh came inside Lisa then got up.

"Get in there bitch and suck out my cum" Josh yelled. As Lisa spread her legs I could see his spank flowing out of her. Josh grabbed the back of my neck and shoved my head between her legs. I licked and sucked. I had only orally pleasured a woman once.

"She is all over the place. Baby just clean me don't worry about pleasing me" Lisa laughed. Josh smacked my ass driving the toy in my ass. I moaned so he smacked me again.

"Keep teasing him and I will have him eat your ass" Lisa told Josh. Pushing me away. She sat me back down and fixed my face. Josh laughed and left.

Lisa finished up and then led me by the hand out of the house.

"Lisa please no" I pleaded.

"Going to met up with Devan, you want to see him don't you?" Lisa continued to lead me down the street the toy in my ass gave me an erection. Lisa led me right into Devan's apartment. Devan smiled and stood up dropping his shorts. Lisa led me straight up to him. He kissed me I fell into his arms, kissing him back. He was naked and I kissed his chest.

"I want to fuck you" Devan told me. I was terrified he would split me in two. Lisa pulled my pantyhose and panties down and removed the toy. Then I heard her leave. Devan sat down and pulled me unto his lap. He held me as he guided his cock into my ass. It hurt as it started to enter my ass. He let me control the speed and depth. It hurt so much but I couldn't stop. I started to move up and down fucking myself on his cock. Devan bit my neck driving me to take even more.

"You're mine now" Devan told me in hushed tones.

"Always" I moaned. Devan stood me up. Not even removing his cock he bent me over and pushed his cock in deeper. I was crying as he did. He pumped his load into my ass. Before he pulled out his cock I collapsed. On the floor.

I woke up in a bed with satin sheets, in just my bra and panties. It was dark outside. I got up and wondered out to find Devan playing video games. My ass hurt so much I could barely walk. Devan was still naked. He motioned for me to join him I went to him he pulled me down next to him and spread his legs. I knew what he wanted and started to suck his cock. As soon as he got hard he produced a tube of lube. I lubed up his cock and he lubed my ass. Then guided me back to his lap. My ass was already hurting but couldn't say no.

I let him move me up and down on his cock.

"Everyday you are going to ride this cock" he told me kissing me. "As much as I want"

"As much as you want" I moaned as I felt his balls against my ass. He got it all inside me? I wanted this. I spent the night with Devan. In the morning Devan walked me home. I wore my dress and heels only thing I had. Devan came in with me and met my mom. My mother was shocked but pulled me into the kitchen to talk privately.

"I need him mom" I said with passion in my eyes.

"My baby got fucked good" she smiled. "He's cute too. But we need to handle this differently with your dad" my mother told me,

"I will be staying with him" I told my mother. She just nodded. And Devan took me back to his place. BOth Lisa and my mother stopped by the apartment the next few days both bringing me clothes, makeup. Mom even bought me earrings and her mother's pearls.

Lisa pierced my ears. Devan continued to train my ass, and throat. On Thanksgiving we went to my parents. I wore a purple flower print dress with 3 inch heels. I had false c cup breasts. Devan sat with my dad and watched football. I was dismissed to the kitchen. My father didn't say a word. Mom had told him but I didn't know how much. The whole family was informed ahead of time. So although I got some sideway glances. No one said a word. Devan had taught me to be quiet unless asked a question so I sat quietly. After dinner my father came up and said.

"You got a good man there" he smiled and kissed my cheek. He also didn't raise a stink when I didn't return to school instead taking some home economic classes at local trade school.

Devan paid for me to get breasts he insisted on a pair of D cups. Also had all my body hair permanently removed. My name was officially changed to Pauline and we where married at a big service 2 years later. I know Devan goes off and fucks a real woman sometimes but I never bring it up. Lisa was my matrain of honor. At my bachelorette party Lisa had me get Devan name tattooed on my ass.

[im2tired4usernames]

Ugh I was excited for today until I found out I'd have to spend it with people that actively make me hate being alive hate the future and drain me off all energy physically mentally spiritually like a vampire I can't stand to be around her she is the definition of stupidity and even then that's generous as fuck this bitch has filled her brain with so much garbage I watch her brain cells die at alarming rates every single time she uses her vocal cords her giggles make me want to jam a sewing needle into my ear repeatedly so I can never have to hear it again its a friendly reminder that my parents decisions this time my dad's constantly makes me want to die

[peapod20001]

I actually do have very complex thoughts about many different things, it’s just a bit challenging to connect the inner voice to the outer voice sometimes </3

[lannisterdaddyissues]

honestly fuck my family sometimes

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

Hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision.

ᰔ pairing. babysitter/boxing au - underground boxer & babysitter!gojo x college student!reader (f)

ᰔ summary. when underground boxer gojo satoru becomes a little strapped for cash, he gets a day job as a babysitter for a five-year-old kid named yuuji who most definitely has adhd (but that’s besides the point). the kid’s mom gave gojo two rules, and two rules only: don’t accidentally kill my son, and do not flirt with my daughter. he’s pretty sure he’s got a good hold on the former, but he’s got no self control over the latter.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, smut, casual sex, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of crack, slight age gap (reader’s 22 & gojo’s 27), cum play, creampie, unprotected sex, praise kink, slight degradation, gojo is a sleazebag that cares?, sort of porn-coded smut except there’s a lil bit of lore so it’s kinda porn w plot, uhh having sex with risk of getting caught, gojo beats people up at night & then plays father figure to a 5 y/o during the day, mentions of violence/alcohol/drugs/blood/cigarettes

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

a/n. hiiii friends jeez it feels like FOREVER since i've posted some good ol' smut (still has plot tho xd)...hopefully you enjoy n see ya at the bottom! lmk if i missed any warnings! if you asked to be tagged but didn’t get tagged it’s bc you have your tags off aaa :( even when some ppl tried to fix it i still couldn’t tag them i’m sorry!!

alsoooooo so very much love to @starmapz for beta reading this for me :”) really helped me w my posting nerves haha. she is also a wonderful jjk author pls go check out her works!! 💕 ART CREDITS: @/3-aem

➸ masterlist

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): heyy um i’m sorry if this comes off kinda rude i just am kinda bad with this but i was wondering if you could text my mom for questions about yuuji’s care instead of me?

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Oh 2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Yeah, sure

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sorry i know my mom doesn’t know much ab how to take care of him bc i was the one that took care of him for a while but i just really want to separate myself from that guardian role now that i’ve transferred to NYU yknow? :/ i think it’s not my place anymore. i just wanna be big sis now haha

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: I get it. Sorry if I was making you uncomfortable with my texts

2:48pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): no no not uncomfy by it, thanks for looking after him. it’s just i’m kind of busy n stuff so it can be distracting 

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

2:52pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): and it was kind of an issue with his last babysitter

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

2:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeahhh like he would keep textinf me n stuff uhh kinda weird things… i told my mom about it and she was super pissed so she fired him

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

2:56pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah he was always “accidentally sexting me” n like he sent me a dick pic once sooooo yeah

2:56pm Gojo Satoru: Who tf 2:56pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll go beat him up

2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): oh no no its fine lol 2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): please dont beat anyone up 2:58pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i’m not saying you’re like him tho i just think maybe less texting unless its an emergency okay?

3:00pm Gojo Satoru: Are you sure because I will totally go beat him up for you

3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO I DONT WANT YOU TO BEAT ANYONE UP FOR ME 3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): also no offense but you dont look like you could beat someone up

3:01pm Gojo Satoru: WHAT 3:02pm Gojo Satoru: Tf you mean “no offense” that’s literally the most offensive thing you could say to a guy

3:04pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeaa i mean you have muscles ofc but in the ‘ohhh i wanna look good for instagram’ way and not like real man muscles yknow

3:06pm Gojo Satoru: Ok princess next time you visit home and go on one of your stupidly large grocery hauls I’ll make sure you carry all those groceries in by yourself 

3:06pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): I WAS JUST JOKING 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): YOURE SO STRONG TY FOR ALWAYS CARRYING THE GROCERIES INSIDE 3:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): PLEASE KEEP CARRYING MY GROCERIES INSIDE

3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Nah 3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Should we be texting right now? I’m not sensing any emergencies here

3:11pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): pls. my groceries :(

3:16pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll let the kiddo know you say hi 👋🏼 

The irony of it all was that, if Gojo really wanted to, he absolutely could beat the shit out of someone. And he has, hundreds of times, pseudo professionally. Although that isn’t something he’d admit to you, out of fear that you might relay that info back to your mom who would then become mortified that she’s entrusted her five-year-old son’s life to the hands of an underground boxer. 

But he needed the money. A night-time job didn’t really make daytime money, not when they could easily replace him with the next dude the second he gets knocked out of the ring more than twice, let alone if he let it happen once. And although he sometimes made large sums, it wasn’t stable income. He needed a back-up plan, and so babysitting it was. 

The babysitter working nights at unsanctioned dojos and gyms located in the back of cartel blocks, knocking teeth out of men twice his size, would put any decent mother into a coma or induce some episode of syncope, hence why it wasn’t something he put on his resume before he got hired. Not that he even needed to provide a resume; your mom seemed desperate to cover the position as fast as possible, that promotion at work was moving faster than she wanted to, and Gojo’s beneficial attribute that he possessed as a candidate to look after her son, compared to all the other potential hires, was that he had a penis.

He likes the kid. Yuuji. He’s got kind of a short attention span, and makes Gojo weary of his age. Hold up, that makes him sound like he’s geriatric, he’s really only the ripe old age of twenty-seven, but the immortality and infinite stamina that a five-year-old boy has on him is enough to have him huffing and puffing at the end of every single evening shift he takes on with the rascal. 

Fighting is all sprint, and no stamina. Sure, there might be some more seasoned boxers that might disagree with him, but for someone as young as him in the field, it’s the tactic he’s been forced to gain. If he draws a fight on for too long, he'll get killed by a forty-two year old man with steroids clogging up his adipose tissue and enough  testosterone to grow a full-body beard by the time the sun starts to set. No, his strategy is to knock them out within the first fifteen seconds. Use their weight against them, and whatnot. A tactic he’s found has worked, since he’s been undefeated thus far. 

He can never wrap his head around it. The drug lords that run the rings who’ve gained millions the night before from selling crystal meth only to lose it all the night following in the second Gojo hooklines a solid punch to their betting boxer’s chin, making them see God & their Momma before they tap out (if they’re even able).

He doesn’t pocket much money from it, not anything compared to what the men who bet on him end up making at least, but it’s a decently solid sum. How lucrative it really is depends solely on what he thinks the value of his life is.

It’s not unheard of, boxers dying in the ring. Turns out, rich drug dealers care very little about the sheep they’ve captured to perform their entertaining little stunts. But Gojo wasn’t doing all of this to feel some sense of work-life pride, no, it was just sustenance. When basic needs are not met, humans resort to the most animalistic of all behaviors, and while he’s not proud of what he does, he can’t deny the fact that it’s turned him into an adrenaline junkie that gets a rush in his veins every time he knocks a jaw loose.

But balance was key. And hence why he’s a boxer by night, babysitter by day. For at least four days a week, he gets to pretend he’s the king’s most trusted appointed knight, or he’s the radioactive tyrannosaurus rex that wants to tyrannize all the other dinosaurs, or maybe he’s the evil power ranger (he always forgets which color that one was) that is determined to make the world a living hell by smashing mr. potatohead against the bunk bed post a billion times for all the other toys to see. Or whatever other imaginative hyperfixations Yuuji imposes on him in the later afternoon once he’s had his bowl of spaghetti-O’s and is ready to play. Lately, the kid’s been really into space. They’ve got all sorts of space toys these days. Back in Gojo’s day, he just had a good ol’ Buzz Lightyear.

“One rule, that’s it: don’t accidentally kill my son. Actually, one more rule. Don’t flirt with my daughter.” 

There’s a part of Gojo that believes your mom kind of knows he’s up to shady shit at night, otherwise why else would she clause for him to not flirt with you if she didn’t read the slight swell to his eye and the healing gash across his cheek as anything other than this boy is trouble and I want him nowhere near my too-good-for-him daughter of reproductive capacity since that’s the exact tale of how I became a single mother in the first place. Or maybe he inherently looks like he’s up to no good? He’s not sure which angle is more offensive, and which one was more flattering. Well in any case, she entrusted Yuuji’s life to him, despite acknowledging the plausibility of harm, and that means she overall thinks positively of him, right? ……right?

The first night he met you, it was awkward to say the least. Gojo spends most of his nights performing deadly stunts for middle aged men with potbellies, and most of his days hanging out with a five-year-old (one who he’d argue is his only friend at this point). Sure, he’s got some people he sees occasionally back in his high school hometown when he can brave hearing about how everyone’s in college now or doing a masters or they’re working respectable nine-to-five day jobs meanwhile he has to lie to his Pops that he’s been working in insurance for the past two years. Listen, in fairness, he probably makes the same amount of money as an insurance broker would anyways, but he can’t exactly own up to the identity of his craft. 

Anyways, the point is, he’s not used to seeing other people his age anymore. There’s the occasional hook-up with girls he hasn’t seen since Mrs. Tracy’s homeroom period back in sweet two-thousand-sixteen, or his twice-a-year hangout with Suguru where he only learns the day of where he's visiting from since the guy moves around more than Gojo can keep up with. But save for that, he mostly just sees your mom and then Yuuji. 

So seeing you standing in the kitchen for the first time when he went to put Yuuji’s half-finished GoGurt back in the fridge was startling to say the least. When the sight of a woman startled him, he knew he needed to start getting out again.

You were on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab at something over the fridge, and wearing these ridiculously short shorts to where he could see the curve of your ass, his line of sight trailing down the skin of your bare legs. He couldn’t see anything of your form above your shorts, given you were wearing an extremely baggy t-shirt with NYU on it in big bolded university letters. As far as he knew, you were a senior at NYU, studying psychology, made dean’s list consecutively for the past three years given the way your mother posted all your stellar transcripts up on the fridge (he gets that she’s proud of her daughter, but doesn’t that kind of stuff usually end in grade school?) But other than that, it was all the information he had on you.

“Here,” he said, pressing his front to your back, maybe just to get a feel, as he reached over to you to finally grab the box of cereal you were swatting for, the one that he purposefully placed at the back because Yuuji learned how to climb counters recently. “Is this what you want?”

He had heard you gasp, spinning around on your heel fast, staring up at him with wide eyes like you weren’t expecting some random man to be in the house right now, and your first instinct ended up being to grab the knife out of the kitchen knife block and lunge it straight at his torso.

If it wasn’t for his boxer reflexes, he’d have ended up at the ER that evening. Or dead. All depending on the strength you could pack into a stab. But instead, he deflected it, though not without a gash to his torso through the fabric of his shirt, one that you spent the rest of the evening profusely apologizing for and eventually mending to with cotton balls and neosporin. 

“I didn’t know you were my little brother’s babysitter,” you mumbled with a small wince on your face as you dabbed ointment on the wound while he pulled the hem of his shirt up to his shoulder. He’s never had an injury tended to before. It was nice.

“It’s fine, I get it, totally acceptable response to seeing a random dude in your house.”

He remembers the curl of your eyelashes while you stared down at his bare upper half, something he imprinted on his memory rather than the concern in your face as your fingertips traced the scars across his chest. He hoped they made you feel better about the one you just slashed into him, because after all, what was one more? 

He knows he shouldn’t have, but he kissed you that night. Two minutes before your mom came home, and right after you bid him goodnight with one more apology, he backed you up against the door of your bedroom, his hands on your hips pulling you towards him, and his lips pressed against yours. Something seamless, from candid conversation that was heading towards an end, to full fledged making out against white-painted wood, his teeth nipping at your lip and he wondered just how touch-starved those university boys were leaving you given the desperate way you’d clinged to his shirt for dear life as he deepened the kiss.

The moment only lasted one minute and fifty-seven seconds, and in the remaining three, your mother’s key pushed into the front door and he had to pull away. Always, on the dot, 10PM, she was home. It was how he knew he had two minutes left to make a move in the first place.

So much for no flirting.

6:57pm Gojo Satoru: Bahahah I accidentally forgot where yuuji’s epipen is 6:58pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 6:59pm Gojo Satoru: Turns out this can-o-soup was just covering it in the cabinet

7:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): ??? why did you need to find his epipen

7:08pm Gojo Satoru: Oh he accidentally took a bite of my pad thai 7:09pm Gojo Satoru: I freaked cuz I thought it had peanuts in it but I remember I asked for it without any  7:09pm Gojo Satoru: shit’s crazy

7:10pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY THE FUCK DIDNT YOU TEXT ME????????

7:12pm Gojo Satoru: YOU SAID YOU DIDNT WANT ME TEXTING YOU UNLESS IT WAS AN EMERGENCY ?

7:13pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): SATORU YOU THOGHT HE ATE SOMETHING W PEANUTS IN IT AND YOU FORGOT WHERE HIS EPIPEN WAS THATSS A FUCKIGN EMERGENCY

7:15pm Gojo Satoru: THE KID IS DOING FINE HES ALIVE JESUS LEAVE ME ALONE 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: See. he’s chill 7:17pm Gojo Satoru: with intact airways might I add 7:18pm Gojo Satoru: Also isn’t he a little too old to still be watching baby sensory videos?

7:20pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah my mom thinks he has adhd :(

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

He tried to keep his word though (although he doesn’t recall ever giving it) out of the respect he had for your mom. She was a hard-working lady, single mom of two who went from working three jobs to now being a major administrator at a big law firm near the outskirts of town. It was an underdog story if he’d ever heard one, and he loved an underdog story. 

But a little texting here and there wouldn’t hurt, right? Or so he thought, until you told him to cut it out with the contact. Maybe you were just trying to be the good one in this situation. After all, hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision. Still, he’ll eventually get your replies to his which shirt should Yuuji wear to the park? and look, the toothfairy gave him the butt of a joint and a couple thumbtacks for his front tooth. he’s ecstatic texts, although in a less timely manner than before when you weren’t trying to preserve propriety. And when you’d occasionally visit every other weekend, he’d do his best to keep his hands in his pockets, and you’d fill up your nights with hangouts with your hometown friends to avoid spending too much time with him at the house. A silent agreement to not fuck each other, it was. 

4:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): send pic of yuuji pls i miss him :(

5:04pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo]

5:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): IS THAT BLOOD?!?!?!?!

5:09pm Gojo Satoru: chillllllll it’s fake. We’re working on his halloween costume

5:09pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY DOES IT HAVE BLOOD?!?!?!?!?!?

5:10pm Gojo Satoru: He wants to be a baby xenomorph and I'm his parasitic host. You know that iconic chestburster scene from the old school alien movies? yeah

5:12pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): satoru please for the love of god just dress him up as a dinosaur or something

5:13pm Gojo Satoru: I’m not the one that came up with the idea, okay? It was him

5:14pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): because you let him watch adult swim with you before putting him to bed. you’ve deranged his brain.

5:14pm Gojo Satoru: He needs it. Builds character.

Gojo was living a double life, and if someone asked him, he’d say it was less of a Clark Kent way and more of a Bruce Wayne way, although in reality, he knows it’s close to neither. He’s no superhero with a concealed identity fighting crime, he’s a con artist that’s tricked a hard-working woman into hiring him just because he’s trying to save up enough money to get the fuck out of this godforsaken town, given he’s not knocked dead before then for the crime’s amusement.

But Yuuji looks up to him now. And Gojo’s grown attached to him too. He taught the kid how to tie his own shoes and piss inside the actual toilet like a real man. And that kid’s the only thing that’s made him question any of this. Maybe that’s what dads feel, suddenly held to all this impossible responsibility and the pressure to stop doing stupid shit so that you’ll stick around to see your kids get older. The thought that there are eyes on you now, eyes that are innocent and hopeful and learning, and because they know nothing at all, you feel the responsibility to protect them from everything. For fucks sake, remind him to never become a dad. 

“Do you like my sister?” Yuuji had asked him out of nowhere one afternoon after he just got home from preschool, stacking a blue cube over a yellow one at the dining table.

“Uhh,” Gojo starts. He wondered if your mom had put a wire on the kid, so his answer was as diplomatic as he could manage. “Yeah, she’s cool. You’ve got a cool sister.”

“But. But.” Yuuji stutters, trying to find his big boy words. He stretches up higher to reach the top of his stack of blocks, but he only has so much arm real estate at the age of five. “Do you like her like you wanna kiss her?”

Gojo grabs the block from the kid’s hand, for a moment questioning Yuuji’s decision to want to put a blue block over another blue block, but he figures aesthetics are the least of a kid’s concern, and so he places the block where Yuuji wanted it. 

Why does the kid know what kissing is anyway? Do kids know that kind of stuff at that age? Isn’t a kiss to a five-year-old just something their mom gives to them before they head off to preschool for the day? And not something that happens between adult men and women? Maybe he should stop watching that adult swim in front of him.

“No. I don’t want to kiss your sister,” he says, again, because he is suspicious of a wire. It was a lie and then some, because he wants to do a lot more than just kiss you.

Gojo lifts the RedBull he was nursing up to his lips and watches Yuuji in the corner of his eye as the kid stares at his growing stack of blocks with a concentrated expression on his face, his chubby fingers squeezing tightly into little round dimpled balls, like he’s putting together all his tiny brain cells together to form another coherent thought before turning to face Gojo on the chair.

“It’s ok. You can kiss her if you wan’ed to. You can marry her too,” Yuuji says.

Gojo almost spits out his RedBull. He barely manages to swallow it, a broken cough immediately leaving his throat when some of the liquid goes down the wrong pipe and he’s smacking a fist against his chest to knock the sanity back into himself.

“Where the fu—…where the flip did that come from?” he asks, blinking back tears from the rasp in his throat.

Yuuji’s small shoulders sulk as he sits back on his heels. “I want a papa.”

Oh fuck that hurt. Jesus christ, there was nothing more sad than that. Yuuji has literally never known what it’s like to have a dad, since his had left before he was even born. Gojo’s not really close to his old man by any means, but he had still been a fatherly figure in some pivotal moments when he had needed it growing up. Kids need their dads. And he’s seen enough people lose their way without one to know that the value of them is really underestimated.

He’s also kind of shocked that Yuuji really did think of you as his motherly figure. Maybe since it had always just been him and his dad, Gojo learned how to self sustain from a young age, and he and his dad became accustomed to just looking after their own interests to avoid the headache of tending to one another. My land is my land, and your land is yours, and there was the occasional Saturday night spent together with his dad’s millions of beer bottles emptied dry on the carpet in front of the 1992 box TV as the two shared a greasy pizza from the place down the street. That was the extent of family solidarity that he knew.

But he can’t imagine being barely eighteen and having to take care of your little brother all by yourself because your mom was too busy trying to put food on the table and was too poor to hire a babysitter. Your mom tried so damn hard to keep you away from the single teenage mother life, but somehow ended up giving it to you by proxy in the end anyway. It was no wonder you wanted space now that Yuuji’s a little older and your mom can afford a babysitter. No matter how much you might love your sibling, being their effective guardian out of pure necessity had to have taken a toll.

Gojo clears his throat before he speaks. “Buddy. If I married your sister, we’d be brothers. I wouldn’t be your dad.” 

Yuuji’s eyes light up at the word brother. “Brothers? Me and you?”

“Yeah. Bros.”

The kid giggles, all bubbly with cheeks rounding fully and eyes sparkling. Gojo reaches out to ruffle at his hair before Yuuji gets down onto one stubby leg at a time from the chair then bolts towards the kitchen.

“Juice!!” he yells somewhere around the corner out of sight.

Gojo sighs, staring at all the toys he pulled out for Yuuji to play with, all left in a scattered mess across the table. He gets up out of his chair and heads towards the fridge. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you your juice, you little demon.”

The conclusion he comes to, and it might read like an obvious one, is that kids don’t really know the reality of life, hence why adults hide so much from them. 

This is what he thinks of tonight when he wraps his worn out boxing tape around his hands and his wrist, tightening it with his teeth, and he can smell the sweat and grime from them. The back of the underground gym had an old dated locker room, and as Gojo stretches his neck side to side while sitting on the stiff metal bench, he eyes the peeling red paint of the locker in front of him, blurring vision making it look like spilt blood. 

His phone pings with a text. He shuffles inside his duffle bag to look for it while his other hand scratches at his bare chest.

1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): hhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): omgomgomg sor y i’m 

He blinks at the screen, confusion flashing across his face. He types one letter, but then he sees three dots and a speech text bubble in the bottom left, so he waits for you.

1:09am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i drunk :(

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. 

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

1:10am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): at a apartyyyy

His eyebrows raise slightly, the thought of you tipsy on some frat party couch flashing through his mind, yet of all things you could be doing at that frat party, you’re texting him? Must be a really boring party.

1:11am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): whyyy are you aawake?

1:12am Gojo Satoru: Couldn’t sleep 1:12am Gojo Satoru: Don’t you have a midterm in the morning?

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): wtf hwo do you knwo that

1:15am Gojo Satoru: Your mom keeps your schedule posted on the fridge

1:15am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): im so fucked;’;(((

He snorts. He’s got a bit more life experience than you, five-ish years to be exact, more than enough time to master the no-hangover hangout, but just before he can offer you some advice, he sees another text from you. 

1:16am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): can i tell u smething 

His gaze flits up to the ceiling briefly, and he hears commotion outside the thick walls of the locker room. The previous fight was over, and fast. The guy must’ve been knocked out in under twenty seconds tops, which means that Gojo was next up against whatever superbeast just beat him up. 

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

He stands up, placing his phone down on the bench before he flexes the muscles in his arms a couple times to get the blood flowing into them. And there’s the noise of another ping. Actually, four.

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sonetimes 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i thikn of  1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): when u kisse me 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): *kissed me

His eyes widen slightly, irises dry to the ashy cigarette smoke from outside lingering in the air, and his heart rate picks up a bit. An adrenaline junkie with close to no fear in his veins due to the way his amygdala’s been fried to a crisp from years of boxing, yet he’s got his breath hitched from the memory of your soft lips against his. It makes the blood rushing through the muscles of his arms rush somewhere down south instead.

Loud banging on the door of the locker room jolts him out of his trance, and he’s stiff around the edges once more.

“Satoru! You’re up, man,” he hears Danny, the fight coordinator, yell at him from the other side of the heavy & poorly-installed steel door.

Gojo sighs, glancing down at the texts on his phone. To respond, or not to respond. You’re off your face, clearly chatty from the alcohol, and he knows for certain you’ll regret every life decision you’ve ever made once you wake up in the morning and see the self sabotaging behaviors you’ve engaged in tonight. He knows that responding to you might put you at ease rather than straight up ignoring you, but the feeling will pass, and he has a match to win with no more room left to stall.

He makes his way out the locker room, pushing past the crowded halls of people underneath dim flashing club lighting, some dudes angrily jerking to face him when he pushes past them with a stiff shoulder, only for their eyes to widen when they see just exactly who pushed them. 

There’s strippers in the ring, doing some routine for pre-match, and Gojo narrows his eyes at the man he sees laying back over the rubber boundary rope, head tipped back up to the ceiling with a wicked grin on his face. So that was his opponent? He’s never seen the guy before. Was he from a different district? Different district talent was tough, you had no background info on them, while they’ve been preparing to be here for weeks. Hence why boxers tend to do better when they visit a different district than they do in their own. There have been rules made to limit these types of fights, mostly over outrage that it was unfair to bid on them, but they were also usually more entertaining to watch. Gojo’s got a sick feeling to his stomach as the strippers clear the ring.

“Hey,” Gojo calls out, grabbing Danny by the back of his collar and dragging him towards him and away from the girls stepping down onto the floor, “what’s in for this fight?”

Danny glances up at the ceiling. “Tarp’s bettin’ tonight, so it can’t be anything less than ten grand for you. I’d say tops fifteen?”

Gojo narrows his eyes further, then glances off into the ring again. The man stands up, and Gojo gets a better look on his face. He’s got short hair, neon green in color with a dark fade underneath and tattoos all over his face. But those eyes. They were freakishingly red, and it made him uneasy. He knows the type. The type of boxers that do this to genuinely hurt people for thrill. Make no mistake, Gojo understands he’s made himself out to be like that too, gaining some kind of rush out of this profession, but this type of fighter was different. The type to literally continue smashing a dude’s face into the floor until they’re a bloody mess even minutes after the winning call, and no referee to stop it because that’s the kind of action the spectators wanted.

Danny reads his line of sight. “That’s Gale. Newton’s new boxing toy. Came outta nowhere about a month ago. He’s undefeated so far in his district, and Newton specifically wanted to see you up against him tonight,” Danny tells Gojo, resting his elbow up on his bare shoulder. “Chances are he’ll compete with Tarp for final bid if you win this one. I’m talking twenty-five grand in the next if you can knock him out in this.”

“Uh-huh,” Gojo acknowledges, rolling his shoulder so Danny’s elbow falls from it. Forget the money, he just wants to make it out of this alive.

He sets his foot up on the square, ducking through the dividing boundary straps and the tacky caution construction tape that the gym thinks creates an exciting ambience. He hears the static of the speakers as the announcers call out Gojo’s name, then this other guy, loud bass club music booming through Gojo’s chest as he tries to take a few deep breaths through the thick air of this low-ceiling arena. 

The dim overhead lights flickered, casting shadows over the makeshift ring, and the crowd pressed tight around at every perimeter area, yelling and pushing, one even tosses a beer bottle on the square and it shatters, spreading glass all across, a few shards reaching Gojo’s feet and he looks down at them with a shudder. A fight immediately breaks out in the crowd over something related or possibly entirely unrelated, and he’d have no way of knowing as he swipes the shards away with his heel.

The influential men always sat up on higher seating, off towards the back in their own VIP section where they suck in the smoke of fat cigarettes and peer through 100% tinted sunglasses to assess the boxers they’ve bid thousands on. The light reflects off the golden grills of their teeth with every snarl at any passerby that gets too close, like a lion in its den. That’s what the sanction was called. Lion’s den.

Gojo sighed, eyeing the twisted grin of this Gale guy across from him. Was that his real name? Usually, foreign district guys get nicknames. Gojo’s always thought the nicknames were tacky, and he’s accumulated some of his own over the years, but to his ears, none of them ever really landed, although The White Fox admittedly was kinda nice. Reminded him of throwback shooting games. 

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, holding his hands up in front of his chest in weak fists, storing energy in them in the form of pure anticipation alone, and then the bell rang.

His opponent lunged towards him immediately, fists flying in a barrage of reckless strikes, and Gojo’s eyes momentarily widened in the briefest moments of hesitation he had been allowed before ducking and dodging every one of this guy's shots, then jumping a step back to create distance.

Fuck. He was fast. Not just boxer fast, athlete fast. There was a difference. And it wasn’t a good one to be up against.

Gojo picked up light on his feet. He couldn’t win this one fast, that much was certain. One single careless or reckless move, and he’ll get tackled. He knows that by the malicious look he sees on that guy’s face, grin wide like he’s some cannibalistic beast. 

Stepping back towards the center, Gojo purposefully set himself up for Gale to swipe a vicious hook towards his head, before Gojo last minute ducked down, crouched to the floor, and swung his leg out to knock the guy off balance by his ankles, and he falls onto his back with a loud thud!

There’s a moment of momentary silence from the crowd, right before Gojo put the man in a torso-lock, twisting him in a way a human body should absolutely not be twisted, hearing the grunts of pain and the crack of spine even through the shouts of the crowd.

He can hear it. Kill him! Knock his fucking teeth out! Snap his neck like a goose, man! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM!

He feels like throwing up. 

Gojo looks up at the referee, who wasn’t really a referee, just there to run the clock when there was action and only barely stop it before near death. “This is enough, right?” he asks.

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

Gojo lets go of his opponent, leaving him there to heave for a moment before he gets up onto his feet again. Just needs one more, and he’s a winner. Ten grand in his pocket, and he won’t have to come back here for a couple weeks.

Gale gets up, swiping at the spit that had trickled out the corner of his mouth down to his chin, and he had an enraged look on his face. The second the bell rang for the second round, he exploded forward towards Gojo with even more fervor than before, gritted expression with a thirst for violence fueling the storm of punches he was throwing towards Gojo but he tried to remain calm, light on his feet, swiftly duck and avoid before he can find another opportunity to clear a sharp, clean jab right to the ribs—

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

Gojo misses his strike, leaving his guard wide open, and Gale takes the opportunity to land a solid punch straight to his jaw, sending his mouth guard flying straight out of his mouth into the air, and knocking him backwards onto the ground with a thud and then he finds himself staring up at the rusting metal ceiling and a ringing in his ears that almost matches the roar of the crowd.

His head is in a haze, dizzy like where one second could feel like a millennia. He feels a soreness underneath his chin, a pain that radiates to his mouth, and he briefly swipes his tongue over his front teeth to make sure he still has all of them. 

What the fuck was that? That intrusive thought. There’s no intrusive thoughts allowed in life or death situations, not when he was always just one smash to the head away from a permanent concussion. But, fuck, he can’t help it. Can’t help thinking of you. Even when his vision has gone blurry and he should really be weary about what happens next in this ring, his mind’s just thinking about you, at some frat party, tipping back shots of tequila and waiting for a text-back in response to your tipsy ones. Were you even waiting up on him? Have you already passed out on the couch, or were your friends dragging you back to your dorm? Or are you fucking some other dude right now? Has he got his hand up your top, squeezing at you, sleazily feeling you up before spilling beer all down your shirt, and are you kissing him back with the same enthusiasm, your phone now somewhere long slipped between the cushions of the couch and out of sight?

Even though it’s still sore, he tenses his jaw. Grinds his teeth, even. Tasting blood somewhere along the line of his gums, he realizes his lip is split. He licks at it, the flavor of copper more rich on his tongue, and he clenches his fists tightly. Why’s he thinking of that right now? It just pisses him off, the thought of you with some other dude. Maybe that’s what he needs to win this fight. Spite. Although he’s not sure why the guy across from him at the ring has to pay for it.

He lifts his head up off the ground, and while it felt like years he had been down, a glance at the timer tells him it’s only been a solid four seconds. A solid four seconds that his opponent had to fully charge a lunge towards him with the look of death in his face, raising his elbow up into the air in time with his leap, ready to come straight down, and Gojo’s eyes widen at the sight above him from where he’s still lying on the wood.

“Shit—” he cusses, rolling his body over to the side so that the dude falls straight down onto the floor rather than elbow Gojo in the fucking ribs, and then he gets back up on his feet. 

Stakes were high, he has to end this, he has to end this now, and he flexes the muscle in his right bicep, channeling everything he has into this one blow, and before Gale even really has a chance to turn around and face him again, Gojo’s already three-fourths set up a knockout undercut that he drives straight up the guy’s chin, with so much force it has him lifting up off the floor, a vertebrate stretch to his spine before he’s sent flying backwards and slammed against the tight rubber lining of the ring to where he was half hanging over it.

The room fell silent for a split second, then erupted in a roar as the referee fell to one knee beside Gale, checking him for any semblance of consciousness, and when he found none, he waves the match off. 

Gojo’s eyes flit up towards the lion’s den, the only opinions that he really needed to care about were sitting in those mahogany chairs with glasses of scotch swirling around in their hands, and he sees some of them looking straight at Gojo before leaning towards one another and discretely talking about something he can’t make out because he doesn’t know how to read lips.

He feels someone tug at his arms from behind, pulling him to crouch down and he balances back on the balls of his feet. He glances down through the ring at the floor. Danny was leaning against the wooden surface of it. “Dude. Go.” He jerks his head towards Gale, who still laid there sprawled across the now stretched out rubber perimeter bands. “Go fuck him up. Knock a few more teeth out, I don’t know, get some more blood out of him.”

“What?” Gojo huffs, yanking his arm away from Danny’s grip. “The fuck are you saying?”

“I told you, man, Newton’s here and he’s got his eye on you. Go give him a show,” Danny says, “do it.” And when he sees clear frustration on Gojo’s face he sighs. “Twenty-five grand, consider that, will you?”

Gojo sneers at the man, an awful taste in his mouth as he spits blood towards Danny’s feet. “Go fuck yourself on his cock if he wants a show that bad.” And then he ducks underneath the bands and hops back down onto the floor, pushing past people who were trying to grab at him and pull at him and lift him up and even throw him down until he made it through flashing hallways and back to the locker room.

He shuts the door behind him, sliding the bolt lock into the frame so no one can follow him inside, and then he leans his weight back against the chilling steel before tipping his head back until it hits the surface too.

He lets out of a few deep breaths, then stares down at the sting he finds over his knuckles. Red and blistering from the last punch he delivered, and he’s almost certain he broke a bone in his hand. Fuck. It was bleeding across the cuts, too. He had to figure out a way to get it all healed by tomorrow, as if that was humanly possible, just because he doesn’t want Yuuji questioning him about it.

Yuuji. For fucks sake, when has he ever thought about the kid this much? When has he ever thought about much of anything when he’s out here or in the ring? He’s a babysitter by day. He’s a “part” of your family when the sun is up and normal functioning society is breathing their lives into the clean air. That’s it. He’s no five-year-old’s caretaker in front of all these primetime drug lords, and he certainly shouldn’t be thinking of you when facing big, burly men he’s aiming to rough up, all within the dead hours of night. So then how come these thoughts are on his mind at all times, twenty-four-seven, around the clock?

He heads further into the locker room, glancing down at the bench where he’d left his phone, then picks it up, neck craned all the way down to glance at the screen as he holds his phone by his hip because he doesn’t have any energy to pick it up any further towards his eyesight. 

He sees your messages. You never sent any follow-up ones, just your horrendously typed out sonetimes, i thikn of when u kisse me *kissed me across the span of four texts, and Gojo runs a tired hand down his face.

He tips his head back to groan at the ceiling, guttural with no basis other than a release of all the pent up frustration of every sort, then he types in a couple messages to you,

3:23am Gojo Satoru: That’s nice 3:24am Gojo Satoru: I think about fucking you all the time 

—and then tosses his phone into his duffel bag to call it a night.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You’re awoken to your alarm blaring heavily, and you whack your arm across your nightstand table beside your tiny twin-size bed to hit the snooze button, then rub your eye with a loose fist while smacking at the residual taste of alcohol you have on your tongue. 

“Mm…” you mumble to yourself. And then the thirst hits you. The overwhelming, intense, unquenchable thirst that leaves your mouth feeling like the Sahara desert before you grab your twice-dented Hydroflask from the nightstand, twist the cap off and chug about twenty ounces of water in one breath. 

You let out a deep exhale and fall back into bed, your hand resting on top of your water-filled tummy, and you stare up at the ceiling of your dorm. 

Last night was horrible. You knew you shouldn’t have gone to that frat party, especially given you have an exam in—you checked the time on your phone—about an hour, and an hour was not enough time to recover from the raging hangover headache that’s pounding through your head. But your roommates insisted you went, and so go you did. You never knew what to expect, always torn between shaving your pussy before you go or throwing on a stained pair of sweatpants to keep the guys away instead. Sometimes, it was a combination of both. But last night, you ended up drinking more than you usually do, and that always led to poor, poor, poor decisions, in which all the sense of pride you had in yourself was washed down with the puke that you hurled into the upstairs toilet. 

You grab at your phone again, briefly seeing that your friends had sent you some photos from the night. You immediately swiped off to the side to dismiss the notifications, because as far as you were concerned, you never wanted to see those photos in your life.

And then, in the briefest of moments, you saw a familiar name in your notifications that made you heart skip a beat.

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

With an immediate gasp, you pulled your phone to your chest and held it there, blinking up at the pale yellow ceiling, your heart picking up in rhythm.

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

Mortified was an understatement, possibly because you don’t even remember what you said, and so you don’t even want to see what he replied with.

You groan, rubbing both your hands across your face then kick your sheets back with your feet like a child having a temper tantrum because you were so embarrassed you had even texted him at all last night. I mean, he was hot. A little older than you, really gorgeous eyes, tall, and, yeah, you gave him shit for the Instagram muscles thing, but that’s only because you thought he’d find it cheeky that you were trying to humble him despite the fact that he’s more toned and ruggedly sculpted than any other man you’ve ever met. You didn’t want to have a flustered schoolgirl attitude because it would just seep through to his ego.

In any case, he was hot, there was no denying it, so can you really blame yourself? But still. There was collateral with this. You had to see him every other weekend. He knows your family, even your extended since they invited him to Thanksgiving dinner a couple weeks ago. A high-risque drunk text recipient if he ever was one (of course he has been, look at that face). Why couldn’t you have just drunk texted ECON160 guy from last semester who Clit DJ’d you underneath your desk at the back of the lecture hall instead?

The thing that made you nervous about Gojo Satoru was that he was just so…confident? Like, in that I was raised to be this way confident and not that I fought inner demons my whole life to barely end up this way confident, y’know? Never had to fake it ‘til he made it, he just was. At least that was the kind of energy you got from him, and unfortunately for you, it was nerve wracking but enticing all at the same time.

You sigh. “Stupid. Stupid. Stuuuuuupiiiiidddddddddddd. You. Are. So. Stuuuuuupiiiiddddddd,” you sigh, running your hands through your hair to grip at the strands.

You pull your phone away from your chest, and finally brave yourself to read the texts from your notifications screen, but not without blurring your vision a little to further stall. And then you finally refocus it to read them. The first one you see has you gasping—

3:24am Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter): I think about fucking you all the time 

It has heat spreading across your cheeks, and you blink at your screen, then quickly swipe up to read the previous messages with rushed glides of your index finger on the screen to see that he had sent it to you in response to your barely coherent texts about how you still so often think about that time he randomly pressed you up against the door of your bedroom to kiss you that night you first met him.

I think about fucking you all the time

At 3 in the morning? He decided to send that text at 3 in the fucking morning? That was the devil’s hour. What’s he trying to tell you? 

Oh come on, you’re not stupid. And you know he isn’t either. The sexual tension was palpable, it was there since the day you two met and you almost stabbed him, and also everytime you were visiting the house, and his shoulder brushes against yours when he’s trying to get past you in the kitchen, or when you’ve got Yuuji in your arms and the kid is clinging to Gojo’s sleeve because he wants him near him at all times. There’s even sexual tension over the phone, in those stupid texts he sends you all the time about meaningless child care stuff, and honestly, those little updates made your day.

But… you don’t know much about him, and your mom would kill you if she ever found out you wanted him. And she’d probably pulverize him if she found out he ever made a move on you. Cremated without leaving a trace behind would be an understatement. She thinks he’s no good and she thinks you’re too good. You know she’s warned him before to not get close to you, as if she was pre-emptively expecting him to try to get in your pants like it was some canon force of the universe, hence why he’s probably so fucking awkward around you whenever she’s there too. Like if he accidentally got caught staring at your ankles, your mom would light him on fire, so he’d rather not risk it by just avoiding looking at you at all.

Your mom has always been protective of you. Your father was a deadbeat, one she thought she loved, only to watch him leave. And she had to raise a baby all by herself. He re-entered your lives right before you graduated high school, knocked up your mom again with Yuuji, and guess what? Left again without a trace. To be doubly humiliated by a man is a fate you wouldn’t wish on any woman, but that’s exactly what your mom went through. It was a wake-up call for her, though. No more living paycheck to paycheck like you had been your whole lives up until Yuuji was born. The kid doesn’t even know how lucky he is with everything he has right now. Your mom worked her way up the corporate ladder and made something of herself and now you guys were comfortable, so it was safe to say she had some sort of right to look after her daughter, of whom she simply doesn’t want to follow in the same naive footsteps of her youth.

You get it. She wants to break the generational cycle. But it made being with men tough on all fronts, let alone dating. You could never bring a guy home because he’d never be enough, even if he cured cancer or could make you orgasm while doing a sixty-nine handstand. And while her overbearing paranoia over what you do or where you are or who you’re with has since dimmed slightly since you officially moved out to finish your last year of higher education at NYU, you can still feel her disappointment from a hundred miles away when you’re making out with some random frat guy on his beer-stained couch at eleven AM on a Tuesday.

But you got to college. You’ve already made it this far. You’re on dean’s list. You graduated high school as salutatorian. You’re the most highly decorated cello player in the state. You won Miss County pageant when you were sixteen for your philanthropic efforts towards feline leukemia. You did online community college for three years so you could stick back after high school and help your mom raise Yuuji, which meant that you had to forfeit your scholarship to Cornell. You’ve spent your whole life being good, you just wanna be bad for a little bit.

And if bad meant fucking the hot and mysterious babysitter, then so be it. 

You pick your phone up, begin blasting what the hell by Avril Lavigne on your dorm room bluetooth speaker, then type a message to him that says—

10:34am you: do it then

—then shove your phone under the sheets and belt out the lyrics aaaall my life i’ve been good, but now, ahhhh i’m thinkin’ what the hell!!! while kicking your feet and clutching your pillow.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gojo has no clue what divine entity has overcast their gratuitous spirit over him on this blessed Monday afternoon, but he’ll thank them for it later once his balls are empty. 

He’s got you on your back, sprawled across the couch in the living room, the first fuck being a rushed one that you offered him with before he has to go pick Yuuji up from circle time at preschool, which wasn’t ideal, but he’s delirious at the sight of you underneath him right now. Your little NYU shirt, a tighter one this time, bunched up over your bare breasts, otherwise entirely naked other than the flimsy panties dangling at your ankle, and the view of the tip of his cock looking hot and heavy against the velvet of your cunt, slowly pushing in, feeling the warmth of your walls squeeze around him paired with the sweet moan that leaves your lips, makes him fall forward with a bracing hand dug into the cushion by the side of your head because the sensation feels so fucking good he can hardly keep himself upright.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, pushing himself in further to try and bottom out but he’s still got a couple inches he needs you to take, and so you curl your hips upwards towards the cieling to make more room for him, practically putting yourself into a mating press and soon enough he’s balls deep, “you on any birth control?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan, eyes closed and head tipped back with one hand squeezing your own tit.

“I can cum inside then, yeah?” he asks you, pushing your knees to your chest, slowly drawing his hips back and you squirm underneath him.

“Let’s get there first, and then we’ll discuss,” you breathe out.

“I’ve been there for the past ten minutes, baby. I could cum at any second with the way you look and feel,” he informs you flatly, because it was just the truth and you had to know it, then he feels himself twitch inside, slowly working up to a languid rhythm, almost fearfully like your mom’s going to pop out somewhere around the corner with a camera crew ready like one of those retro TV shows just to humiliate him on national television for not keeping it in his pants like she’d told him to. 

“Harder,” he hears you whisper, and he rolls his eyes shut to just focus on the feeling. The feeling of your nails grazing down the skin of his chest and his abs, tracing the scars he’s collected over the years, and he feels you tightening around him. He leans down to kiss you, fucking you properly now with the squeak of the couch springs echoing across the room, your hums of moans seeping through his lips until he’s fully taking them on with an open-mouthed kiss of sloppy tongue. 

The fact that it was wrong felt right to him, and he realizes in this moment he’s lost all sense of control. He wasn’t just an adrenaline junkie that liked to rough up dudes, he was an adrenaline junkie that wanted to fuck you against all better judgement or moral compass. The way your tits were bouncing, the slap of skin on skin, his balls slapping against your ass while you wrap your legs around him tighter, all convincing him that any consequence made it worth it.

“Good,” he groans the praise, pinning your hands above your head as he rams his hips against yours, your cute moans and squeals sounding like literal music to his ears and he feels heat spread all the way up his neck, “goooood, keep squeezin’ me like that, fuck.” He slows down momentarily, just to take a moment and watch, really look and see the way his length disappears inside of your pretty self with every push forward, and then he works back up to a relentless pace that has you tipping your head back with a slack jaw and eyes closed tightly shut, sprained expression of pleasure spread across.

“Oh, oh my god, Satoru—” you mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name from your softly parted lips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” His hand finds it’s way between your legs, calloused pads of his fingers brushing against your clit and you jolt underneath him, gasping as your hand shoots out to dig your nails into his bicep for purchase. “I’m gonna cum, better tell me where you want it.”

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

He presses his mouth against your cheek in a lazy smile, “Atta girl,” he drawls before pushing your ankles down as far as they’d go near your ears, folding you in half and then reigns all hell into your cunt. He should really care a bit more about your pleasure, but testing your flexibility like this with both his hands holding you down was doing sinful things to his brain, and besides, you had yourself covered with the messy circles you were rubbing over your clit. It was hot to see that too, your nimble pretty fingers so close to the place where he was pounding into you. 

“Oh shit, shit, shit—” he grunts when starts to see blistering white in his vision, balls straining with a pleasure that was almost painful. The moment he finishes feels like hot flashes in his brain, a heat like the cum he begins to paint inside your walls in time with your release, thrusting over and over and over, each one more staggered as he lets off a long, drawn out groan that comes from deep within his chest with the feeling of you milking him dry and the sound of you enjoying every second of it. He can’t remember the last time he came this much or this hard and even after coming down from the high, he feels the remnant pulse of your orgasm around his now half-flaccid dick.

He leisurely pulls out, hearing you let out a soft whimper as he marvels at the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of you and down towards the couch, before he scoops it up with a couple fingers and pushes it back inside. You grip his wrist tightly, but you weren’t stopping it, that motion of him plunging it all back into you.

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

He pulls his fingers out of you, coated with sex, then plugs your pussy with the fingers of his other hand because he kinda likes the idea of you walking around all day with him inside of you, so he doesn’t want it getting out. He’s then pushing his other fingers past your lips, pleased to find he’s met with not even so much as a grazing of teeth, and he grins, “bet you take a dick in your mouth as good as you take it down here.”

Your furrow your brows at him, the pout of your lips seen in the way they were puckered to lick his fingers off clean, and when you release the suction with a smack of your tongue and his fingers were wet from your saliva now, his eyes narrow with desire. You push his face away with the heel of your palm to his forehead. “Flattery won’t make me suck your dick.”

“Alright. So? How is it?” he jerks his chin towards your face, pushing against your hand with his forehead until he’s hovering over you again, “taste good?”

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

“No,” you say, and you can’t make eye contact, “good.” You sigh. “Hot. I don’t know. Salty, sweet. I’m the sweet. You’re the salty. And this conversation is obscene.”

He kisses you, capturing your lips softly, tongue darting out to taste what’s on yours. “I like it that way. Dirty. Nasty. Obscene, whatever.”

There’s the slam of a car door heard from the driveway, and the two of you instantly make eye contact with round eyes.

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

He gets up off the couch in a panic, and heads to the window of the living room fully butt-ass naked, then peers through the blinds to see—

Your mom was making it up towards the front door, rustling with her keys in her purse. And the last thing he sees before he turns around to face you is her pushing the keys through the lock.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he cusses, finding his boxers off of the floor, hopping on one foot with his cum & slick coated dick flapping around and slapping against his thighs unceremoniously as he tries to get one leg in through them and then the other. You’re trembling as you hook your panties back into place, pull your shirt back down your torso, and even in his extremely panicked state, he’s still sad he can’t freely stare at your tits anymore. You’re rummaging for your skirt in a haste, looking everywhere for it, and he finds it underneath the coffee table before tossing it to you and then he side-to-side hops towards the coat closet while he pulls his sweatpants up over his ass, in time for you to quickly run and shut the door of the closet closed just before the front door of the house swings open.

The inside of the coat closet is dark, barely enough space in there for a six-foot-four two-hundred-and-twenty pound man, but it’s better than being balls deep inside his boss’s daughter on the couch when said boss just came home from work.

He hears conversation on the other side of the door, albeit muffled, and he presses his ear to it to hear better while he tucks his dick into his boxers from where it was hanging over the waistline.

“Mom! You…you’re home so early,” he hears you squeak out.

“Yes,” your mom says, “The rest of my meetings today are online, so I figured I’d come home when there’s less traffic.”

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

“I see, I see, how was your day at work?” you ask with a tremble in your voice.

“Fine.” And then nothing. The silence could mean that was all she had to say, since your mom wasn’t really a woman of many words, or it could be a silence that means she’s suspicious about something. “Darling, why is your skirt flipped up and tucked into your panties? Your whole butt is showing.”

Through the wood of the door, he hears you softly gasp. “Oh, um, I just went to pee. Must’ve—…must’ve got caught when I pulled it back up.” 

“I see,” your mother says, and Gojo can hear her dropping her heels down near the shoe rack at the entrance. “You know, I really don’t like those short skirts you wear often. Maybe it’s just your generation, but I think it looks tacky and cheap.”

“Mom,” you say, in as stern of a voice as you can manage without sounding embarrassed.

Your mother sighs. “In any case, where is Satoru? I still would like him to go pick up Yuuji. I don’t have the patience to sit in preschool & daycare traffic right now.”

“Oh gosh, I don’t know,” you chirp, and then he hears you let out a small oh no before you lean even more weight against the door, this time somewhere lower, and he realizes you’re pressing your ass against it. His eyes narrow with a small frown, and then he realizes— his cum must still be trickling down your thighs. You couldn’t put your panties on fast enough. 

Shit. That’s hot. A little fucked up, but hot. He feels his dick harden against the fabric of his boxers, and he rests his forehead against the door, fringe stuck to his forehead with sweat as he slips his hands down his sweatpants and then gives his cock a firm squeeze. The thought of you discretely swiping his cum up your inner thigh and smearing it against your thin panties so your mom doesn’t catch sight of it dripping down your legs has him slowly working up to a rock-solid erection, and he almost lets out a broken grunt from the feeling.

“What?” your mother says, “what do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’ve just been watching TV this whole time,” you say, “last time I saw him…he was…um, in the backyard pulling weeds?”

He lets out a small scoff through his nose at your cover-up. Cute. And not bad. 

Your mother sighs loudly, and he glances down at the strained veins on his dick as he tugs it through his hand, the tip rearing and appearing flushed and dripping with precum. God, you were just on the other side of this door. Less than a few inches away, and he’d be inside of you. 

“I’m going to take a shower. Go find him and tell him to pick up Yuuji soon. But before then, change into something less revealing,” your mother says in a more or less detached tone, and he can hear the stomps of her footsteps up the stairs from above him in the coat closet.

The two of you wait at least a solid minute, and just when the coast is clear, he hears you turn the knob of the coat closet and slowly crack it open.

“Okay, I think she’s in the shower, I hear the water running,” you whisper at him, “you can go now—” You glance down towards his groin, your jaw dropping. “What—…Satoru, why the fuck is your dick staring at me right now?!” you whisper-hiss at him.

He pulls you into the coat closet, pushing your front against the door to where it clicks shut, and you gasp when his hands pin your wrists crossed behind your back and his dick presses into the plush of your ass.

“You talkin’ to your mom while your pussy’s stuffed full of my cum was the single hottest thing that’s ever grazed my lizard brain,” he tells you, flipping your skirt up and hooking your panties to the side, his index finger briefly brushing against your entrance to find it still leaking from the way your walls were pulsating from his words. And then he aligns his tip to your entrance. “Now keep quiet while I do this, ‘kay?”

“Oh—” you gasp, your cheek pressed against the door as you arch your back and push your ass out for him, “okay—” you say, barely vocalizing the first syllable before he’s already stuffing himself inside of you with one solid glide of a push, making you yelp loudly and he has to instantly cup a hand over your mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” he hisses at you, immediately starting to pound you from behind, “told you to— fuuuck,” he catches sight of his length covered with a mix of your glassy arousal and his white cum, now starting to cream at the base of his cock, “jesus christ—” he breathes out, squeezing the flesh of your ass harshly with his other hand and you let out another yelp, “I told you to fuckin’ keep quiet.”

“I’m—mff,” you muffle against his palm, “I’m trying but,” your hips move back in time with his, “feels good, feels too good,” you mewl, and his hand desperately yanks up the fabric of your shirt so he can squeeze at your breast.

“Yeah?” he grunts, hypocritical for telling you to keep it down when he was slamming his hips against your ass with so much fervor he wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was reverberating across the entire house, “you like it when I fuck you while your mom’s all clueless just up the stairs?” His rhythm falters, feeling his release building, and his hand reaches in front of you to rub your clit, making you drop your head against the door with tightly closed eyes. “Gets— you—wet, doesn’t it?” he torments you, his lips near your ear as he slams his hips against you harshly with every enunciated syllable. 

“Mhm, mhm,” you easily agree, or maybe that’s because it’s all you can really articulate, and he angles his hips up so his balls slap more fervently against your clit, making you scream into his palm while he picks up the pace of the circles he draws on your clit and in one, two, three— beats of his pounding heart, he feels you come undone around his cock, gushing wetness leaking out of you, he can feel the mess of fluids splattering on the skin of his thighs due to each of his heaving thrusts as he cusses out a fuuuuuuckkk before spilling his cum inside of you, a short-lived and thicker release this time that has you mewling from overstimulation, and in a few following thrusts, he’s given you everything he had to give.

His eyes open, he wasn’t even aware he had shut them in the first place, and he glances down at where the two of you were joined. Rings of arousal coat the length of his half-pulled-out dick, and the second he retreats all of it, a bulging push of his cum seeps out of you, dripping and pooling all over the hardwood floors.

“Holy shit, I wish I could take a picture of this,” he says, taking a step away to commit the sight to memory, your legs trembling and still slightly spread, ass pushed out and when you wiggle it a little, he lets out a huff of an exhale because he just can’t believe how sexy you are. Are all college girls like this? He’s never been to college, his old man’s been trying to get him to go for years, but maybe this is what finally convinces him.

“No pics,” you breathe out once you catch your breath, standing up straight slowly, “that’s my one sex rule.”

He takes a step closer to you, flipping your skirt back over your ass while you shimmy your shirt down to cover your chest. “That’s the only rule you have? Anything else goes?” he asks.

You spin around to face him, his eyes briefly flitting down to the still exposed skin of your midriff. “I have a feeling I’d be making up more specific rules if it was with you.”

He smiles, his hands grabbing your hips before pressing you up against the door again. “I also had a rule. It was to not fuck you. Wait, no, to not flirt with you. Which, technically, I didn’t do.”

You blink your eyes at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused, “I didn’t.”

“Huh—” you scoff, “how do you think we got into this situation in the first place?? You didn’t just say wanna fuck? You were insufferably flirty with me.”

“Nahhh nah nah nah nah, baby, that’s not flirting,” he tells you, thumb running circles over your hips, “that’s, like—…I don’t even fuckin’ know how it worked on you to be honest, I was just being stupid.”

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

“Well you said you were being stupid so me falling for it must mean I’m stupid.”

“Pshhh. You’re cute. Pulling weeds, by the way? Adorable.”

Your hand slowly roams up the front of his shirt, the fabric bunching at your wrists until you uncovered up to his collar bone, and you stare at his skin. He tries to not let the way his heart’s beating faster show through the heave of his chest. 

“Why do you have all these scars, anyway?” you whisper to him.   

“Too many girls tryna stab me,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.” Your thumb traces the one you had left on him. 

“I—” He stops himself.

Does he tell you? Should he tell you? What, just because he’s seen you naked and you took his dick like a queen he’s supposed to open up to you about these things now? He doesn’t know. Maybe he could? Maybe you already suspect what he does at night. And if not, at the very least, I’m an underground boxer might make you think he’s hot? At the very worst, you’ll report him to the cops and he’d get fired as your little brother’s babysitter then thrown into jail, but not before the busted cartel gets him first.

“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he says, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling it from his chest, “no hyper personal details until you’ve had my dick in your mouth at least once or twice. That’s my one rule.”

You snort. “I could’ve guessed that rule from a mile away.”

He hums. And then there’s the sound of steps creaking down the stairs above the two of you.

You both make eye contact, eyes widening, internally yelling at each other: how the fuck did we get into this situation twice?!

This time, Gojo opens the door and stumbles out of the closet, leaving you inside of it, just in time for your mom to come down the stairs.

“Satoru. I was looking for you,” she says as she rounds the post. “Have you picked up Yuuji? He has to go for his swimming lessons soon.”

“Ah, nope, was just about to head out,” he says, letting out a cough to diffuse tension, “sorry, I was—” he points his thumb over his shoulder to behind him, “…pulling out some gnarly weeds.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I see. Well, thanks. If you want, I can add a gardening stipend to your paycheck. Let me know.” And he’s not sure how to respond because he’s not sure if she’s joking. 

He heads out the door, the keys to your mom’s minivan in his palm as he throws them up into the air and catches them a couple times. And just before he gets inside the car, he turns on his heel to face the house and pulls his phone out of his pocket to type in a message for you.

3:22pm Gojo Satoru: Send over those me-specific sex rules soon

.

.

.

[the end]

a/n. hope u enjoyed im shitting bricks posting this bc i haven't posted a oneshot smut since february but thanks so much for reading i appreciate u!! i got way too invested in the whole underground boxer thing 😂😂 but the fact i managed to keep everything under 12k is an accomplishment to me bc if u read my other fics you know i’m a yapper LOL i have another kind of a similarly written smut oneshot n it’s a lil angsty (totally different au tho) i’ll probs post that one next but yea i really like, hmm, i really like exploring entire characters within a short amount of time i enjoy writing the obscure lore drops xd it’s been kinda fun so far anywho much loveee hope to see u around! <3

➸ masterlist

taglist:

@joemama-2 @erencvlt @pickuptruck01 @hanakotateyama @nuronhe

@beabadobeee @air3922 @timetoletmyimaginationfly @chiyokoemilia @jotarohat

@sirencholia @sorcerersseestars @horisdope @to-dabi @staoru

@aliidarling @ninjaturtletoes @lavender-hvze @lanadelreylover11 @chckn-pi

@satoryaa @gojodickbig @v4mpieres @reinam00n @sleepyyammy

@haikomaiko @tbzzluvr @myahfig4 @arabelluhhh4200 @bloopsstuff

@nat-the-gayass-down-bad-mf @badbclub @blackunecorn @geniejunn @n0tviv

@verystrawberryhottub @iheartshopping @peonysfordayz @dreamsxmerci @aishies-stuff

@milkm4nz @athinasaurus @sashisuslover @welldamnsatoru @aeriiixhh

@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru

[rxmxa]

𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐮𝐩 ❤️‍🔥

my ideas + observations on what lilith aspects might look like in daily life <3

Lilith-Sun Aspects: Getting noticed right away by people especially when a group setting, being liked by people on the surface level but secretly they disapprove or frown at your actions when you turn around, men judging you, standing your ground at all costs, not knowing when to back down, being a natural leader, challenging societal norms with who you are and forms of self expression, walking into a meeting or class wearing a bold outfit and peoples heads turning but not a word is uttered, getting dress-coded at work or school, your boss or teachers feeling uncomfortable to say something to you, people feeling like you are being "messy" when you question the norms, not addressing rumors. knowing you're gonn stir things up when you are walking into rooms and not caring, being told to change, being told you're too much, men wanting to date you but then wishing you would be "easy to work with" or wanting to date you and then get mad when they can't dominate you, you thinking "what don't they fucking understand? I just don't want to be like them" being afraid of your individuality not being recognized that you go to extremes at some moments

Lilith-Moon aspects: the type of people to actually answer with the truth when you ask them how they're doing and then you're kind of shook because you thought they were gonna sugarcoat and be like "I'm fine" being painfully honest or blunt, talking about feelings considered taboo (like no one really likes to talk about how they are jealous or bitter or other shit like that, they just hide it or project it) but lilith-moon will say they're feeling that shit. this reminds of the song wildflower by billie eilish. this aspect is women talking shit about you, having trauma with you, women in your life judging you or pointing fingers at you for not falling into the "good girl" category. being told you're wrong for how you feel, feeling intense or moody and other people being able to pick up on it, other people seeing you as magnetic but also unpredictable and they can admire you for being real with them but it also might scare them, mom saying you are a wild child or just too much to deal with when you get "emotional", you wanting to yell "no im not fucking okay and im not gonna sit here and pretend I am"

Lilith-Venus aspects: men want you and see being with you as a challenge, they want to be with you to show off but then get mad when they cant change you, being called a "tease" or saying that you lead people on, men lying about you, spreading rumors about you, men saying they "talked to you" or dated you after texting you LMAOOO.. just fucking lying! being villanized for your beauty, your beauty feeling like its making you a target, women seeing you as competition, women spreading rumors about your beauty (oh she probably got this and this done or oh she shes only pretty because xyz), men in relationships looking at you and thinking you are manipulating them when you're not doing anything, feeling like anything venus related (beauty, art, relationships) in your life gets distorted, your relationships always feeling like a battlefield, being sensual + in tune with your femininity and then people expect you to tone it down, you might do something like wear red lipstick or heels or a nice dress and be told its too much but someone without this energy in their chart probs wouldnt get that reaction, you wondering "what's the difference between me and her? Why do they treat her like that and me like this?"

Lilith-Mercury aspects: being blunt, hurting someones feelings without meaning to, getting criticized for whatever you say, trying to be more "polite" but then it feels so exhausting, cursing a lot, cursing from a very young age and/or in professional settings, saying what other people refuse to say for the sake of being polite or because its a "superior" this is the person that in the meeting will the supervisor "In my opinion, this isnt a good idea and it isnt helpful to us", people talking shit behind your back, the person who dissects other peoples words down to the stutter, punctuation and fucking COMMA! How did they say it? What word did they say first? lilith-mercury will read between the lines and force you to say what you are refusing to say or putting in a passive aggressive manner, might refuse to engage with passive agressive people until they say it with their chest, "could you repeat that?" energy, "what did you mean by that?" energy knowing damn well what they meant, talking about politics at the dinner table during the family reunion, talking about sex in the break room at work, playing the devils advocate, reading smut, writing smut, loving dirty talk. trying to use their words for something good but people always making them feel like everything they say is just always wrong, pausing before they strike with their tongue, hating small talk, feeling uncomfy with small talk, people trauma dumping or ovesharing or vice versa, feeling suspcious of people that use pretty words with them, they wonder "What do they want from me? They're trying to get something from me...."

Lilith-Mars aspects: the first to get to moving and get shit down, getting easily annoyed at people that dont have the same drive, being angry at weak people or people that cant keep their word, "Are you gonna help or just fucking stand there?", being seen as abrassive, people avoiding you or shrinking back because of it, men wanting to compete with you, people feeling threatened by your ambition, the type to get nice things in life and people spread rumors that you had to xyz to get it, people thinking you're being confrontational or too angry when you address something face to face and up front, feeling out of control with your anger as a kid, people trying to push your buttons to try to get a reaction of you and then acting shocked when they do, fiercely independent in their routines, working out intensely, craving intensity in relationships, lines blurring between love and war "If I'm going to be the bad guy might as well get something out of it"

Lilith-Saturn aspects: a major dislike of authoritative figures, feeling resentful at being told what to do, wanting to do the opposite of what you do, "im not following this rule just because its always been followed", setting your own standards and expectations, "I prefer to find out for myself", questioning the system or cultural and societal norms and traditions that you find antiquated or unfair, people respecting you for your disciple but wishing you were easier to boss around, other people saying you're too cold or detached but you just dont wanna give them the chance to fuck you over, finding peace in the space between order and chaos and you perfecting that mix, wondering if life would be easier if you were "softer", choosing to form your own opinions on people, "thanks but I can decide for myself", feeling like you're held to expectations other people aren't

Lilith-Pluto aspects: not afraid to talk about the ugly shit in life, the taboo, trauma, control, power struggles, fear, jealousy because youve been familiar with it before, people being a little afraid of you, people saying youre too intense or even dangerous, people projecting onto you and getting mad or "disgusted" with you when you see right through them, being able to pick up on changes in peoples mannerisms, digging deeper in conversations, people suddenly confessing things to you, people not understanding why they feel drawn to your presence, people either approach it or go in the other direction, you come across as someone who has been through a lot but its only made you stronger, "im not afraid of the dark parts of life", going through something traumatic and years later thinking about it and coming to realization that you wouldn't change a thing, that it made you who you are, being okay with being seen as the villian in someones story

[landoughnut]

Mine All Mine

♡ masterlist - request!

♡ pairing - oscar piastri x fem!reader (fc - hailee steinfeld)

♡ summary - (request :) oscar obsessing over his girlfriend on the internet!

♡ warnings - horny/simp oscar, crack, some fluff, some cursing, use of y/n

♡ w/c & a/n - smau | thank you so so much for requesting!! i hope you enjoy lovely xx

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[yandere-writer-momo]

Not quite Yandere yet but here is a snippet of the Yandere single dad short story. And a kindergartener obsessed with you being his mom

Yandere Short Stories: Mommy (Prequel)

Eventual Yandere Single Father x Teacher Afab Reader

A pale hand shakily held the drawing his son, Jesse, made in horror. Who on earth could the smiling woman beside little Jesse be? Had another snake tried ti sink their fangs into the Isbert family once more?

Liam Isbert was the heir to the Isbert family. A man of extreme power and wealth who many women (and men) tried to woo. Only one had successfully baby trapped him which resulted in Jesse’s birth.

“Who is this woman?” Liam glared at the elderly nanny who frowned at Liam’s anger. “What kind of wench had been filling my child’s head with lies? She is not his mommy.”

“I assure you Miss (last name) is just his teacher. Your son is extremely attached to her.” The nanny told Liam which only made him angrier.

Impossible. She had to be after their family’s money and that’s why she sunk her fangs into a child. How cowardly!

“Notify the school that I wish to have a private meeting with his teacher.” Liam told the nanny as he ran a hand through his dark, wavy locks. Liam was so frustrated with these gold diggers. They were all the same…

He might have to homeschool Jesse now…

.

.

.

Liam sat in the back of his limousine as he watched Jesse excitedly run into the kindergarten. Liam has never seen his son so excited for anything in his life.

The brunette took a long drag from his cigar when he saw a beautiful young woman head towards Jesse. A smile as warm as a ray of sunshine on her face when she saw Liam’s son.

The little boy hurdled his small body into his pretty teacher. Jesse’s arms wrapped around her legs, while his blue eyes stared up at her with so much love it made Liam want to puke. How on earth did this woman charm his antisocial son?

Liam reeled down the window and was about to scream at her when he heard her laugh.

“Goodness, Jesse. It’s only been a day. Are you that excited to learn?” (Your name) smiled down at the dark haired boy who nodded his head.

“I just wanted to be with mom-“

“Jesse, it’s Miss (last name).” (Your name) ruffled Jesse’s dark brown hair which made the little boy pout. “I’m your teacher.”

“Why can’t you be my mommy? You’re so nice to me…”

(Your name) laughed as she bent down to pick Jesse up. “Because I would have to date your dad and I don’t really have any interest in men.”

Jesse thought for a minute and then he scrunched his face. “Daddy is kind of mean and he’s smelly.”

“You’re not supposed to say your daddy is mean or smelly!” (Your name) loudly giggled as she carried Jesse into her class.

Liam sat frozen in his limousine in shock. She didn’t want to date him? And… what did Jesse mean by him being mean and smelly?

“Sir, your meeting with the teacher will be at three in the afternoon. Do you want me to take you to the office.”

Liam shook his head and reeled up the limo’s window. “Yes. That would be nice, Allen.”

For the first time in many years, Liam felt his heart flutter.

.

.

.

“You must be Jesse’s dad. It’s nice to finally meet you.” (Your name) warmly smiled at Liam who remained silent. Liam couldn’t hear a word she said due to how loud his heart beat in his ear drums. His beating muscle would bring a snare drum to shame.

“Mister Isbert?” Liam was brought back down to reality when his teacher addressed him. His green eyes focused on her concerned expression. “About your reason no for a meeting… Jesse seems to be quite attached to me due to his lack of a mother. I try to correct him but he seems adamant about it. I am so sorry to inconvenience you-“

“What is your motive?” Liam narrowed his eyes at the young woman who seemed shocked. Motive? Whatever did he mean?

“What do you mean-“

“How much money do you want? I’m willing to pay you if you leave my son alone-“ Liam was shocked when (your name) slammed her hands on her desk when she stood up.

“How dare you… I’m sorry that other people have wanted such things from you but I do not. I care about Jesse. He desperately wants a parent that loves him and he’s not getting that from anyone in his house.” (Your name) scoffed at Liam’s shell shocked expression. The young woman shook her head. “This is extremely unprofessional of me, but you never spend any time with your son so I’m not surprised you don’t notice his concerning behavior of wanting to be loved.”

Liam gasped when she slapped a file in front of him that was full of letters from Jesse. Dozens of notes asking her to adopt him. Why did his son want this woman so badly?

“Be a better parent before you point fingers. Now get out of my classroom.”

Liam felt his cheeks heat up and his heart pound in his chest. She didn’t want his money… she just wanted Jesse to be cared for…

Liam was shocked to see Jesse outside the door. Jesse’s little hands clutched his lunch pail so tightly, his knuckles were white.

“Jesse-“ Jesse shoved past Liam to stand beside his teacher.

“Mommy, I want to eat lunch together! Can you cut the crust off my sandwich? I don’t like the crust.”

(Your name) smiled down at Jesse and took the lunchbox from him.

“It’s Miss (last name), Jesse… but of course I can take off the crust.”

And that’s when Liam noticed the pink blush on Jesse’s cheeks. Jesse loved his teacher… and who was he to separate them?

Liam shoved his hands in his suit jacket pockets and left the school in a hurry. His fingers itched for a cigar to try to calm down the rush of emotions he felt.

Perhaps he’d apologize to Miss (last name)? He wondered if she liked roses?

Liam blushed at the thought of her accepting roses from him. She’d be so pretty in red…

[violenteconomics]

as a prank, ace and epel start referring to their upperclassmen as members of their family rather than by name — when they're not actually talking to their upperclassmen, of course — just to see how long it will take them to notice. and after a while, the other freshmen start doing it, too.

ace is the first one to come up with this idea. he think it's a harmless little thing, a prank that'll cause plenty of mayhem but won't get him in any serious trouble. so he starts referring to cater and trey as his dad and mom respectively, and riddle as his uptight, no-nonsense older brother.

("one time i saw my brother try to put one of mom's tart into like a ziplock bag to save it for later, and when he took it out like two days afterwards, it fell apart immediately and he started bawling, ha ha! my dad got the whole thing on camera and shared it with me — i can show you if you want.")

he ropes epel in on the plan. epel is a little more hesitant, but seeing this as a way to get back at vil, even in a small way, he agrees to it. vil is now "ma" and rook is now "pa". people do start to wonder why he still uses he/him pronouns to refer to his supposed mother, but they decide not to question it too much.

("a few months ago, my pa told me a story about how one time my ma was trying to comb his hair, only for his comb to get stuck. so he got another comb to get the first one out, and that ended up getting stuck, too. five combs later, and peepaw had to rush him to the barber for an emergency haircut. it was pretty funny, but now i'm left wondering how pa even knew that story... hold on, i need to check my bathroom mirror for cameras, excuse me.")

surprisingly, deuce catches on pretty quickly, and he starts thinking maybe it's a new dorm policy. he doesn't know why, or why nobody else seems to be doing it, but ace seems pretty sure of himself, so he starts doing it, too, if a bit awkwardly.

("my brother always gets on my case for my bad grades. it's a little frustrating, but he only does it because he cares. my dad tutors me whenever he can, but he's not very good at studying, either. but whenever i do get good grades on my report card, my mom makes me egg tarts!")

yuu starts after they ask ace about it, and thinking it's a good prank, they decide to join in on a little mischief. so they start referring to all the teachers as their "dad". it makes people really confused, because they assume they only have one dad, two at most, but "dad" seems to change personalities every single time they talk about him.

("i was helping my dad do paperwork the other day, except we didn't get anything done and spent the entire evening playing solitaire and making dog puns."

"i was filling my dad's basketballs for him for his next game, whilst simultaneously helping him rework his pick-up lines that he's going to use on rsa's 'hot librarian' — his words, not mine. it was... a weird experience."

"i was feeding my dad's cat a couple of days ago, but i guess i fed him too much, because he's just a ball with limbs now. it's fine, though — it's not like my dad actually goes anywhere. too old for that, y'know?")

ortho is up next. idia's already ortho's brother, so he can't really do anything with that, but he really wants in on the average teenage experience of pranking your peers. so he starts referring to literally every upperclassmen he knows as his "brother". this is when everyone starts to realize that something's wrong, because some of things ortho says can not apply to idia in any reality.

("my brother is so talented! he's so good at talking to people, and making them sign contracts with him, and convincing them to invest in his restaurant... gosh, i wish i could be as good at communicating as him!")

jack is, unsurprisingly, very unamused when he figures out what the others are doing, but he doesn't try to stop them. but after a few weeks of exposure, and jack starts unconsciously doing it, too, which the others don't point out to him because they think it's absolutely hilarious.

("my brother didn't show up to morning practice, again, so my other brother and i went lookin' for him, and we ended up findin' him in a tree. obviously, my brother and i can't climb as well as my eldest bro can, so my brother just... threw a spelldrive disk at him. to get him out of the tree. and then we had to rush him to the infirmary because now he had a concussion. i don't... i don't know why he thought that would work.")

sebek is the last hold-over. not only is he unamused by this prank — and frankly very aghast when he realizes that jack has also been infected by it — but he's also really repressed and will do literally whatever it takes to not sully his image in the eyes of diasomnia. of course, with enough wear and tear, this doesn't last very long.

("ugh. my brother fell asleep on the road AGAIN! i swear, so many people have tripped over him, i'll be surprised if he hasn't broken any ribs yet.")

ace and epel think all of this is extremely funny, so they all keep trucking along with it with nobody noticing for a couple of weeks. it's all fine and dandy until the first-years are out on the town during the weekend, and deuce gets involved in a really bad carriage crash.

at the hospital, deuce starts deliriously asking for his older brother to take him home. but when the receptionist checks his familial records, they're really confused because deuce never even had a brother.

unfortunately, ace knows exactly who deuce is talking about, and awkwardly spends the next 30 minutes trying to get a hold of riddle over the phone.

the awkwardness doesn't end as riddle actually gets to the hospital, and the doctor smiles and says, "you must be mr spade's big brother."

[itsmarsss]

cool. [Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader] (Diary of a Wimpy Kid)

(from the vault)

You start working as a babysitter for the Heffleys, but a certain someone seems to be bugging his parents to go out more often. Why?

Words: 6,164

Warnings: like one slight sexual/porn innuendo

[. . .]

"What do you mean someone to watch me?” Greg yelled, exhasperated.

Rodrick laughed out loud at the whole situation. “Wait is little Greg here getting a babysitter?”

“Yes, and she starts tomorrow night," their mom replied, matter-of-factly.

“Mom, I’m in seventh grade! I don’t need a babysitter!”

“We’d believe it if the last time we left the two of you alone you hadn’t directly disobeyed the only thing we told you not to do and thrown a party while we were gone," their dad explained.

“Wait. Mom. So I don’t have to watch him? Like ever again?”

“No but you should be ashamed of the reason why-”

“Hell yeah!”

“Rodrick-” He was already up the stairs on the way to his room. She sighed. 

“Mom you can’t do this to me. Do you know how bad it'll be if the guys in my grade find out you got me a babysitter?”

“They’re not gonna find out, sweetie.” She patted his head.

“And it’s not negotiable.”

“What your dad said.”

"Dad!”

“I’m sorry, kid! But if it makes you feel better, since Rodrick will be here and we’re getting a babysitter because we can’t leave the two of you alone, she’s teeechnically his babysitter too, right?”

“It doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I tried," he shrugged.

“Where are you two even going tomorrow?”

“We’re having dinner! " Susan exclaimed, excited to talk about it. "Alone, finally, because-”

“Wait couldn't she technically be Manny’s babysitter then?”

“Thank you for caring so much about what I had to say, son.” She sighed once again. “She’s not Manny’s babysitter because Manny’s gonna stay with your grandma.”

Greg huffed and made a point to be extremely loud when stumping upstairs to his room, immediately getting cornered by Rodrick. 

“So… a babysitter, huh? And I thought your seventh grade couldn’t get any worse.”

“D´you think it’ll be that bad?”

“Dude they probably got you an old lady who smells like a museum whos gonna make you eat soup at like five PM and sleep at seven.”

Greg widened his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, worried at the thought of what his brother was making him imagine. “You think?”

“Yup. And I’m not even talking about the total humiliation it's gonna be if someone your age finds out.”

“Crap.”

“Good luck with that.” Rodrick was obviously enjoying the mere thought of the torture that was going to follow.

. . .

“A babysitter?” Rowley asked, rather loudly. Greg quickly put his hand over his best friend's mouth. 

“Dude! Can you be quiet?”

“Hmmph!” Rowley tried to protest.

Greg released his hand from over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Why do I need to be quiet?”

“Because I don’t want anybody to know!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Rowley!”

Rowley just shrugged. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed. A babysitter sounds fun! Maybe she’ll read you bedtime stories! And play board games with you!”

Greg just looked at him incredulously. “Just don’t say anything about this to anyone., okay?"

Rowley suddenly started to look really nervous. “You know I can’t lie…”

“It’s not lying! It’s just not mentioning it! No one’s gonna ask about it.”

“Okay. Fine.” He didn't seem that sure about it, but Greg knew he'd try his best.

. . .

You took in a sharp breath before knocking on the front door. It took no time for it to be sprung open, and you were greeted by a smiling Mrs. Heffley. You retributed the smile. 

“Hi Mrs. Heffley!”

“Hey, sweetie! How are you?” She asked as she ushered you into the house, startling you when she closed the door behind you as you walked in. 

“I’m alright! How about you guys? Your dress looks so pretty!”

“Oh my God, thank you! You know it’s been ages since I’ve worn a pretty dress to go out, you can’t trust three kids with a pretty dress, they're always gonna ruin it.”

“Oh God that must be hell,” you laughed along with her. “Where are you guys headed tonight?”

“Looking forward to having dinner in peace,” she laughed again. “Manny!” she yelled suddenly, startling you yet again.

A little boy walked in in his diapers, holding his pants up with both hands. 

“Manny can you just please put on your pants?” Mr. Heffley followed the kid around, frustratedly asking him for what you assumed must have been at leat a fourth time to put his pants on, judging by the tone in his voice and the sigh that accompanied it.

“No!”

“Manny!” Ms. Heffley yelled yet again. The kid did what he was supposed to.

“Um I didn’t- is Manny gonna be staying with me tonight?”

“No! No,” she laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re taking him to my mother’s house.”

“Oh, right. Okay.” You tried to let out how relieved you were. Little kids were a whole other level of difficult, specially at Manny's age.

“Darling are you ready?” Susan asked her husband.

“Yeah! Yeah.”

“Greg!” she yelled again.

“What?” The boy yelled back from his room upstairs. 

“Y/n’s here! Come say hi!”

“Who’s y/n?”

“Your babysitter!”

He came downstairs. Very slowly. “Mom I already-” He stopped.  “You’re not an old lady!"

“Gregory! We don't say that to people! What is that about?"

“I’m sorry! I meant- Rodrick told me my babysitter was gonna be an old lady who smelled like a museum."

"Of course he did," Mr. Heffley said, under his breath.

You pretended to smell yourself. “I think I might smell more like an art gallery maybe,” you joked.

“I’m so sorry about this."

“It’s fine, Mrs. Heffley! Don’t worry about it. Now you two go have some fun, alright? Come on."

“Yeah! Okay. Right. There’s money on the table, you can order whatever you want for dinner the kids will eat whatever. Just grab the money before Rodrick comes downstairs or he's gonna pocket it. If you need anything you can call, okay? Really, anything.”

“Don’t worry about it! I promise I’ll call if anything happens! But I think we’re just gonna stay and eat some food and watch some movies, right Greg?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Please be nice, Greg. Oh and if Rodrick bothers you tell him I said he’ll be grounded if I hear he's not letting you work alright?"

“Sure thing! Thank you. Now go!” You joked, pretending to send them off.

. . .

You and Greg had both sat down on the couch in the living room.

“So. You’re not an old lady.”

“Nope.”

“Are you in high school?”

“Yes I am.”

“What grade are you in?"

“I’m a senior!”

“Oh. Rodrick’s a senior too.”

“Cool! I don’t think I’ve seen him around though.”

“Lucky.”

“Why’s that?”

“He makes my life hell!”

“Well don’t you make his life hell at least a tiny little bit?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“That’s just your job.”

“Trust me no girls like him.”

“Whatever, Heffley. So what do you wanna do?”

“Can we play video games?”

“Depends on what you have.”

“Apocalypse of The Damned?”

“I have never heard of that in my entire life.”

“You’re gonna like it I swear!”

“Alright. But you have to bring me the money your mom left on the table, I’m gonna order us some pizza.”

“Deal!” He ran out to the kitchen, getting back with the money in no time.

. . .

“Hey I was thinking. Can my friend sleep over?” Greg asked, obviously having been preparing himself to do so for the past few minutes, while furiously hitting buttons on his controller as you scrolled through your phone, having gotten tired of playing at that point. 

“Um. Is your friend gonna give me any trouble?”

“No! You can- you can trust us.”

“Is he annoying?”

He seemed to take his time to think of an answer. “A little. But he’s pretty cool.”

“Fine, I’ll ask your mom.”

You clicked on Mrs. Heffley’s contact name. 

hi mrs heffley

how's the date going? im sorry to interrupt

You didn't even have the time to finish writing the next text before she was calling you. You picked it up.

“Is everything okay?” Susan asked, clearly worried.

“Oh, yes. Everything’s fine, you don't have to worry! I’m so sorry to interrupt your date, Greg wanted a friend to stay over and I just wanted to see if that’s okay with you.”

“Is it Rowley?”

“Sorry?”

“The friend, is it Rowley?”

“Is it Rowley?” You asked Greg, leaning away from the phone, to which he just nodded his head yes. “Yeah, Rowley.”

“Okay, of course he can! And don’t worry, I’ll pay you extra for it.”

“Oh, that’s really nice, thank you. Now you should go back to your date, I'm so sorry to bother.”

“No worries! Are you sure everything’s fine?”

“Yes! We ordered pizza and we’re playing video games right now. Everything under control.”

“And Rodrick?”

“Uh, I haven’t really seen him honestly. He definitely hasn’t left his room though.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Bye!” You hung up.

“So?”

“Yeah, call your friend. Ask him if he has any board games we can play!”

Greg did as you said, and, in about half an hour, a little boy with a yellow shirt with a dog on it stood at the door.

“Are you Greg’s babysitter?’

“Uh yeah, I am.”

“Cool!" He looked at Greg behind you. "You told me she was old!”

“Rowley!”

“What? You did!”

You laughed at the interaction and let them do their thing, only asking them to stay by the living room so you could keep an eye on them. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone again as you knew the pizza should be about to get there.

The doorbell rang in no time. You stood up to pay for it, grabbing the large-size pizza and tipping the delivery guy, who didn’t look very friendly at all. You brought it in. “Hey Greg can you go call your brother?”

“Yeah!”

He ran up the stairs, and you set the box down on the dining table, Rowley sitting down. Greg came back.

“He told me to bring it to him.”

“Why?"

"He just doesn't wanna come downstairs."

"You don't have to do it.”

“What? He’s gonna beat me up for it!”

“Not with me here. I got you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Chill out.”

. . .

“Hey you little asshole? I told you to bring my pizza!” A voice exclaimed from the second floor, and Greg muffled a quiet ‘shit’.

“Hey don’t say that!” You scolded Greg for swearing as a reflex.

“Hey? Are you not listening?” Rodrick was clearly close to the kitchen now. He walked through the door. “I said get me so-” he stopped dead on his tracks when he saw you.

“Who’s this?” He asked the boys.

“That’s Y/N,” Rowley said, through gulps.

"And I'm right here you know? You could just ask me who I am."

“Well who are you? And what are you doing… here?” He leaned over the wall, in a poor attempt to look cool. You had to fight yourself tas not to laugh uncontrollably at the sight.

“Well I seem to be your babysitter for the night.”

“What?”

“Did you also expect an old lady? You know, that's a really common and really hurtful babysitter stereotype, you really should think about the things you say now.”

“Wha- huh- yeah- I’ll just-” He let out a weird laugh, and walked up to the table, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and stuffing it into his mouth, seemingly to shut himself up.

“Well we’re gonna watch a movie after we’re done eating. You wanna join?”

“Oh he’s not gonna-” Greg started talking, but Rodrick quickly interrupted him, almost choking on his food as he did so.

“Yeah! Yeah! What are we uh- what are we watching?”

“Zathura.”

“What the fuck is Zathura?”

“Don’t swear in front of them!”

“Sorry.”

Greg looked at Rowley like Rodrick had just gone insane. Did he just apologize?

You laughed. “I’m kidding. You guys don’t mind, do you?”

They both slowly nodded their head no. 

“Cool. As long as you don’t repeat it in front of your parents, alright? Don’t wanna get me in trouble.”

“We’re not five!"

“Well you do look like it,” Rodrick commented, and Greg stuck his tongue out at him.

. . .

“This movie doesn’t make any sense,” Rodrick commented, pointing at the screen.

“It’s not supposed to! It’s a kids movie about a magical board game,” you pointed out.

“Let me guess, did Rowley pick this one?”

“For your information, I did. You got a problem?”

“No.”

Rowley had, in fact, picked this one.

Greg and Rowley shared a look again. This was getting bizzarre.

The movie was over in about half an hour, and it was time for you to put Greg to sleep.

“But it’s so early!” The boy complained, and you laughed.

“I know, but you don’t have to sleep now, you just gotta go to bed! I can’t, like, force you to sleep.”

He let out an annoyed groan before agreeing and pulling Rowley with him by the wrist. “Fine.”

“I’ll be upstairs in a few!” You yelled out, and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes from dinner. It wasn’t really something Mrs. Heffley had explicitly asked you to do, but you had those extra minutes and wanted to get on her good side. 

What you didn’t expect was to come in to find Rodrick still standing there, startling himself when you walked in.

“Uh hey!” His voice was high-pitched, clearly not expecting to see you there so soon.

“Hey.” You wordlessly walked to the sink, starting with the dishes. And then he offered to help you, which didn’t fit the image you had of him at all.

“What?”

“I said do you want some help? I can dry them.”

“Uh sure. Thanks.”

He just nodded, grabbing a cloth. “So did you put them to sleep yet?”

“Yeah they’re supposed to call me when they’re ready. Then I’m pretty much done.”

“Are you leaving like right after?” Was he… disappointed?

“Well not right after, your mom still has to pay me.”

“Right. She paying you extra for the dishes?”

“No,” you laughed, “just wanna score some points. This job’s good money, you know? But don’t tell her I said that.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You nodded, a little awkwardly. “So what’s the deal with the van?”

“What?”

“The huge white van parked right outside? I assume it’s not your mom’s.”

“Yeah.”

“Couldn’t you have picked a better color?”

“What?”

“You know something other than the classic creepy white van?”

He actually laughed. “I don’t think a creep would have ‘löded diper’ written on the door.”

“Maybe you’re just trying not to look too suspicious.”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Was he… flirting? Well, that was… an attempt.

“What, are you inviting me? You know, I was taught not to get into creepy white vans with strangers.”

“We’re not strangers!” He held his hand up for you to shake, which you did. “I’m Rodrick.”

“Y/N.”

“So. Ho'wd you end up babysitting Greg out of all people?”

“I mean, your dad posted something about it in the newspaper and my mom told me about it. Some extra money, you know?”

“And you’re sure it’s worth it? I mean he’s a big pain in the ass.”

“Aren’t all brothers?”

“I’m not.”

“Right. You’re like a dictator to him!”

“No I’m not!”

“He was scared you were gonna beat him up if he didn’t bring you pizza.”

“He’s dumb. I wasn’t gonna beat him up that badly.”

You laughed. “Well, we’re done. Thank you for the help. You can go now if you wanna.”

“You sound like a mom.”

“Oh my god! Stop trying to make me sound old! I'm some granny cinderella who turns into an old lady who smells like a museum when midnight strikes," you teased him, and he scrunched up his nose in embarrassment.

"Right. He told you about that.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. To be fair, I never had a babysitter, you know? I just thought they were all old and boring.”

“Do you think I’m old and boring?” You joked.

He snorted. “No, you’re pretty.” His eyes widened, realizing what he’d just said. Way to go. “Not in that- well not that you’re not pretty, you are, but you know what I mean. You’re uh- you’re pretty compared to what I- expected?"

It was stupid, but you could feel yourself blush a little. Why was it that you always fell for the most absolute idiots? “So I’m pretty… compared to an old woman.”

“I think you should let me start over.”

“But-”

“Y/N!” You heard Greg yell from upstairs, and you left the kitchen to go see him, going up the stairs and entering his room.

“Okay, we ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes!”

“Both of you?”

“Yup.”

“Okay I’ll believe you. But your mom told me you’re on thin ice.”

Greg rolled his eyes and both boys got on the bed. 

“Okay, goodnight. If you don’t sleep right away don’t make too much noise.”

“Are you coming over tomorrow?”

“Why, did you actually like me?”

“Just a little.”

You smiled. “Well no. But I think I might next week.”

“Cool! ‘Night, Y/N!” 

“‘Night!”. You closed the door behind you, and walked downstairs to wait for Mrs. and Mr. Heffley to return so you could go home. 

You stopped on the hallway to send your mom a quick text saying you were fine and should be leaving in a few before making your way to the living room.

To your surprise, Rodrick hadn’t gotten back to his room. Instead, he was laying on the couch, his entire body draped over it as he scrolled through his phone. He sat right up when he saw you. “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey. You not have anything to do?”

“I’m offended. But no I don’t.”

You laugh, sitting down beside him. “Okay. Well your parents must be on their way, so. Don’t have much to do either.”

“You wanna watch something?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well a real movie.”

“Zathura’s a real movie! I like it!”

“You actually do?”

“Yes!”

“Whatever. Well an adult movie I mean.”

“Uh, an adult movie?”

“No! Not that kind!” He was blushing furiously and you found it hilarious. 

“Yeah whatever. What do you have?”

You ended up settling on a Marvel movie, but you barely had the time to start it before the doorbell rang, and you had to go get the door.

“Hey Y/N! I’m sorry we took so long, we had to go get Manny.”

“That’s fine! Rodrick and I were just about to watch a movie!”

“Rodrick came downstairs?” Mr. Heffley sounded genuinely surprised.

“Well you can finish it if you want!”

“Oh, no, I really should get going. We can finish it another time.”

“Oh well. Okay.” She put Manny down and grabbed her wallet, handing you your money. “Here, with the extra from Rowley. Hope they didn’t cause too much trouble.”

“Oh they were so cool! I was surprised.”

“Oh that’s great to hear! If they haven’t traumatized you too much we’d love to have you sit them again.”

“Oh definitely! Just give me a call.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Are you driving home?”

“Oh, no, I’m actually walking. I thought we’d be done a little earlier.”

“Oh that’s not good, we can take you-”

“I can take her!” Rodrick yelled, almost falling off of the couch in his eagerness. He stood up, walking toward you. His dad looked like he was short-circuiting.

“Are you sure?” His mom asked.

“Yeah! Come on, let’s go.” He walked quickly past the front door and into the white van.

“Sure. Bye Mrs. Heffley!”

“Bye sweetie! Tell me if he bothers you too much!”

You walked towards the van, getting in on the passenger’s seat. He turned the engine on in silence. There was an awkward atmosphere surrounding you, and you didn’t know why.

You cleared your throat. “So uh. Thanks for driving me.”

“Yeah it’s chill. Where do I turn?”

“Oh let me just- give me your phone.”

“What?”

“So I can put the address on the GPS?”

“Oh. Sure.” He handed it to you after unlocking it, and you did as you said. 

“Turn left in 200 feet,” the disembodied voice said, and he did.

“You don’t have to uh- do these things for me. You know, drive me home, help me with the dishes. It’s nice, but I’m not gonna tell on you if you don’t.”

“I know. I uh. I want to.”

“You wanna do the dishes?”

“I wanna help you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Fine.”

You got home pretty quickly, as you didn’t live a long way from the Heffley residence, and got out of the car. 

“Thank you for driving me! Goodnight.”

“Yeah!” Rodrick yelled back, and waited for you to get in to drive off. There was a smile on your lips you couldn’t shake off, and you felt stupid for it. Was the weird wannabe rock band kid really having an effect on you?

. . .

On wednesday, you got a call from Ms. Heffley again. And then on friday, and saturday, and sunday. This could not be normal, right? But it was money, so you obviously wouldn’t refuse it. So you pulled up to the Heffley residence for the fifth time on sunday, knocking on the door as usual.

Greg opened it this time, greeting you with a confused expression. “You’re here again?”

“Miss me, kid?”

“Are they going out again?”

“Apparently.”

“Mom, Y/N’s here!”

“Oh hey sweetie! Thank you for coming!”

“No problem! Where are you off to today?”

“Well we’re going bowling. Rodrick found us these pamphlets at the mall and wouldn’t stop bugging us about trying it out, so we decided to give it a go.”

“Oh he did?” That was strange.

“And you seem to have things so under control! I can’t believe we’ve been going out so much!”

“Well I’m happy to hear it. When will you be back?”

“I’d say eleven if that’s not too late for you?”

“Oh definitely not! As long as Rodrick can drive me.”

“Oh that won’t be a problem. You ready, darling?” She asked her husband, who walked by holding Manny in one arm and a huge bag in the other. 

“Yeah.”

"Everything there?” Susan asked him, referring to the bag. She turned back to you. “Manny’s staying over at my mom’s for the first time today. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Yeah!" You exclaimed, not really getting all the excitement about it. You supposed you would if you were his mom. Right now you were just happy you didn’t have to watch over him too. Little kids were always more difficult. 

“Okay bye everyone!”

Greg and Rodrick were right behind you the moment you closed the door.

“Can we make pasta?’ Greg asked, and damn, the little dude must have had some sugar because he looked like he’d downed like three energy drinks at once.

“Well yeah. I make a killer pasta. Is Rowley coming today?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool.”

“Do you want help with the food?” Rodrick finally spoke up, and Greg looked at him like he was speaking Greek.

“Sure.”

“Are you okay?’ Greg couldn’t contain himself from asking him.

“What do you mean, assface?”

“Did you just offer to help with the food?”

“Yeah?”

“Who are you?”

“Oh shut it, dickhead.” You didn’t miss the nervous glance he gave you, clearly signaling something about you to Greg. And then Greg seemed to figure something out, his eyes going wide.

“Oh! Is that why you-” Rodrick looked alarmed, putting his hand against Greg’s mouth to keep him from talking, but he managed to get himself free. “Is that why you’ve been trying to get mom and dad to go out all week?”

“Hah. Don’t know what he’s talking about, pssht.” Rodrick laughed nervously.

“Uh sure. Well I’m already hungry so I’m thinking early dinner and then we can make dessert?”

“Yes!” Greg yelled.

“Okay but if we’re making the food you gotta set the table. Deal?” 

Greg groaned in annoyance, but agreed. “Fine.” He went on his way, and you and Rodrick made your own way to the kitchen.

“So,” you started, as you grabbed the pasta from the cabinet. “You’ve been trying to get your parents to go out all week.”

He looked everywhere but at you. “Uh, I don’t know what the kid’s on about.”

“Well, shame. Cause I was gonna thank you.”

“For what?”

“Well the more times a week I work the more money I get right?”

“Oh right. Right. So yeah you can thank me.”

“So you were setting them up to go out. Why?”

He shrugged, trying to seem cool. “Wanted to be alone.”

“You’re not alone now. You could be in your room. Or like out with your friends or whatever.”

“I didn’t anticipate that you’d actually be cool.”

“Oh you think I’m cool?”

“Yeah.” 

The water started to boil, and you threw the pasta in the pot, stirring it with a fork.

“Cool. You’re kinda cool too. You know when you’re not trying to be impressive.”

“I’m not trying to impress you!”

“I didn’t say you were trying to impress me .”

“Well I was.”

“You were.”

“Did it work?”

“Why’d you want to impress me?”

“Cause you’re cool. I wanted you to think I’m cool too.”

“Huh. Maybe I do.”

“Cool.”

“Y/N I’M DONE! I THINK ROWLEY’S HERE !” Greg’s voice came from the dining room.

“I didn’t hear the doorbell, are you sure?” You yelled back, walking past Rodrick to get the front door. Maybe you were too lost in the conversion to hear it, because the boy was standing right there when you opened it.

“Hey Y/N!” He said with a smile, greeting you with a hug, which was very on-brand for the kid. 

“Hey Rowley. You alright?”

“Yeah! I brought water balloons!”

“You did?”

“Well they’re not full of water yet so they’re just balloons but yeah.”

“Cool! You should tell Greg!”

“Will you play with us?”

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t have clothes I can get wet-”

“Well that’s not a problem!” Rodrick said, and you frowned in confusion. “You can borrow mine!”

“Oh I don-”

“C’mon, Y/N, you really gonna disappoint the boy?”

“Shut up. Fine, but you’re playing too.”

“Deal.”

“Yes!” Rowley exclaimed, before taking off, presumably to go find Greg.

“Well you wanna go up to my room?” Rodrick asked, apparently having otten some confidence from out of the blue, sporting a cocky smirk.

You laughed. “You wish. Just bring me a t-shirt.”

“Yeah. Someone’s gonna be looking like the number one Loded Diper fan out there.”

“If you bring me a white shirt I will beat you up!” You yelled, and he was already on his way upstairs. You took the past out of the pot, mixing it with the sauce you’d made, which was the easiest one you could find.

Rodrick was back as soon as you set the pot down on the table, handing you a gray shirt that , of course, had ‘loded diper’ written on it in terrible handwriting. 

“Thanks.” You draped the shirt over your shoulder and all of you ate in silence, apparently all stupidly hungry for some reason.

You were done pretty quickly, but made sure to get Greg and Rowley to promise to help with the dishes this time, since there were more.

“Okay! We’re gonna get changed!”

“Yeah me too!” You yelled back, making your way to the bathroom, changing into Rodrick’s gray shirt.

It didn’t hang as loose as you thought it would, and you laughed at the thought of Rodrick wearing a tight shirt for no reason. You supposed it was an old one he decided to turn into loded diper merch. Loded diper. What a stupid fucking name. You guessed it was fit. 

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. Rodrick. “You done? These kids are little demons, they talk so much!”

You laughed, unlocking the door and grabbing your own shirt before opening it. 

“Hello?” He looked wide-eyed, like his brain was malfunctioning, staring profusely at his shirt. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Fine. The shirt alright?”

“Yeah. A lot smaller than I expected. Does Rodrick Heffley wear crop tops?”

He shrugged, embarrassed. “Sometimes. That bad?”

“No.”

“Chicks dig the crop tops, you know.”

“Oh do they?”

“Don’t you?”

“I guess I’d have to see you in one to give an opinion.”

“Yeah that’s not happening any soon."

“Shame.”

“What?”

“I said let’s go.”

You barely had the time to walk into the front yard before Rodrick was hit on the face by a huge water balloon. You turned to see a terrified-looking Rowley at the other side. Rodrick gained his bearings again. 

“Oh you’re in, you little shit!” He seemed way too determined on winning this, but who were you to judge?

Him and Rowley occupied themselves with each other pretty much the whole time, as you did with Greg, until you got hit rather strongly in the back. You stopped what you were doing, which was aiming your next balloon at Greg, who was right in front of you, and turned around to see Rodrick laughing at you.

“Motherfucker-” you cursed yourself mentally for swearing in front of the kids, hoping they wouldn ‘t tell on you, and launched the balloon at him at full speed, it landing on his chest. 

“Hey!”

You played for about half an hour more until the sun set, and you decided it was best to get back inside. All three complained, and you laughed at the situation, because you supposed you did sort of sound like a mom when trying to convince them to get in, but they ended up listening.

“Okay what are we watching tonight?” You asked as you closed the front door behind you and dried your feet on the mat by the entrance.

“Oh can we watch a horror movie?” Greg asked.

“Nope, we know how that ends.”

“But we’ve changed!”

“It’s been less than a week!”

“People change!” Greg tried to plead, but you knew Mrs. Heffley wouldn’t like it if you caved in.

“No can do, Gregory. We can watch that Adam Sandler movie you wanted though.”

“With the little kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

You were halfway through a second movie when the boys decided it was time for dessert, and you still had a little while before the Heffleys came back, so you decided you’d all bake cupcakes.

They didn’t turn out as great as you wished they would, but also weren’t half bad. They were a little flat and maybe a little toasted on the top, but were otherwise pretty edible. You covered them with some frosting and ate them as you finished the movie.

It turned out when you were done the Heffleys still hadn’t come back, so you decided to put the boys to sleep then. You came back to Ridrick looking at you at the other end of the hallway. 

“Hey,” you said, not expecting him to be there.

You stood there in silence for a few moments before he cleared his throat and started talking.

“Um do you wanna hang out? ‘Till they're back?” It was funny, with him. One moment he’d be full of confidence, flirting with you at the max, but, in a second, his entire demeanor would change and he’d look unsure, insecure to ask you anything.

You were starting to wonder if he wasn’t just being a stupid hormonal teenager and if he actually, maybe, had a little bit of a crush on you. But you wouldn’t entertain those thoughts, of course. First because you could be completely misinterpreting the situations, and second because you needed the job, and you hadn’t gotten enough of a read on his mom to know if she’d be cool with that.

Still, you did have nothing else to do but scroll through your phone as you waited. “Sure.”

“Oh! Cool. Uh, my room’s right there,” he pointed to a white door by his left, and you followed him in. It actually looked pretty cool. It was sort of exactly what you expected his room to look like, except maybe a little messier, if that was possible.

To each their own, I guess. It’s not like you were the cleanest person to ever walk the Earth. You sat down on his bed, and he opted to sit down on a beanbag just in front of you.

TIt's safe to say things were a little awkward. “Uh. So. Cool room.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You studied the multiple posters he had glued to his walls. “Oh, The Cure. Cool.”

“Yeah. They’re not like super my style or anything. But they’re cool.”

“What would be your style?”

“I don’t know. Hard rock.”

“Huh. I don’t know. You just look like one of those guys who like rock but secretly listen to Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber or something when they’re alone.”

“What- what I would never- I don’t-” busted. 

You laughed at him as he tried to deny it. “I think it’s cool.”

He stopped. “You do?”

“Yeah. Taylor Swift’s cool.”

“Yeah uh. Girls dig that.”

“Do you really know what girls dig or do you just make random guesses?”

“I’m well-informed.”

“Oh are you? You have a girlfriend or something?” Subtle.

He scoffed. “Pfft. Yeah.”

“Uh- huh.”

He gave in. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay”

“You're a girl. What do you dig then?”

“What a romantic way to phrase that question. I guess I don’t know. Never stopped to think of it. What do you think we dig?”

“Uh. Bad boys?”

You let out a laugh. “Yeah I guess. But it depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether they’re nice to us.”

“So you want bad boys who are actually nice.”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Uh. But I can be nice.”

“Who said you’re a bad boy to begin with?”

“Um rock band? Cool eyeliner?” He motioned to himself, mockingly.

“Well who do you wanna be nice for?”

“Uh. You? Obviously.”

Your smile faltered. There was the confidence making an appearance again.

“What?”

“Uh. You know. So I can uh- practice. For other... girls?”

“Right.”

“Or maybe not.”

“Okay I ‘m lost.”

“Do you wanna go out with me? ” He blurted out at rapid speed.

Okay, sudden much? “What?”

“Uh. We could… go to the movies or something? You seem to like movies.”

“Right. But as a… date?”

“Yeah.”

You thought about it. It was just a date, it’s not like his mom would get mad about a date, right?

“Sure.”

“What?”

“I said sure.”

His eyes widened, he didn’t seem to have been expecting a positive answer. “Oh! That’s cool! That's- cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

He began standing up. “Well, do you wanna-” In that very moment, before he could finish, the doorbell rang, and you made your way past him, running downstairs and getting the front door. 

“Y/N! How are we?”

You hoped the blush on your cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt as you talked to her. “We’re great! Greg and Rowley are already in bed, Rodrick and I have been uh. Hanging out.”

“Oh that’s nice of him!” She turned to face her husband, who, in turn, grabbed your wrist. 

“What have you done to him? Are you some sort of witch?” He asked you.

You laughed awkwardly. “Oh it’s all him! He was showing me the posters in his room, we like the same bands!”

“Oh do you uh. Like rock too?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well we’re taking too much of your time. Is Rodrick driving you home?”

Oh, right. Shit. He was.

“Yeah I uh, think so.”

With that, he walked into your view, holding up the van keys. He’d apparently put on shades, probably so his parents wouldn’t see he had eyeliner on.

“Why do you have sunglasses on?” Mr. Heffley asked him as he walked past them.

“It’s called fashion, dad!”

Mrs. Heffley handed you the money for the night, and you went on your way, getting into the van with Rodrick, who, by now, didn’t need the GPS to get to your place. Except he wasn’t driving to your place at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanted a slushie. That cool?”

“I guess.”

He stopped by a 7/11 and bought each of you a slushie and some chocolate bars, which you ate outside. The wind started to get harsher, and you crossed your arms around your chest for warmth. He caught on to that, taking his striped hoodie off and giving it to you. You looked up at him, confused.

“What?”

“You’re cold.”

“Yeah but you’ll be cold.”

“Rockstars don’t get cold.”

“You’re not a rockstar.”

“Not yet."

You raised an eyebrow at him, unamused.

"Just take it!” 

You did, and put it on. This one hung looser than the shirt you’d borrowed earlier. It did help. You tried your best to contain the smile that was insisting on forming on your lips. You knew it was dumb.

“Thanks,” you mumbled under your breath, and you could see him smirk, proud of himself. “You’re so cheesy. Wouldn’t take you for it.” 

“I’m not cheesy. I’m just not an asshole.”

“You kinda are.”

“Shut up!”

You ate in silence for a bit before you decided to say what was on your mind. “Hey about that date?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t… I don’t know if we should do it.”

He tried to seem chill about it, but he looked a little hurt. “Why?”

“Well it’s not that I don’t want to! I do. For… some reason,” you added, trying to lighten up the mood. “But do you think your mom would be cool with it? I mean I don’t wanna lose this job and I don’t know if she’d really like us being alone if we’re dating.”

His face lit up. “So you’re thinking about dating me?”

Oh, you’d messed up big time now, he’d never let this go. “No! That’s not what I meant!”

“I think it is.”

“Fuck off!”

“Oh we’re using big boy words now?” He grinned.

“Shut up.”

“Well. Don’t think that should be a problem. They don’t have to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“What, do you tell your parents everything? They don’t have to know we’re dating.”

“Yeah but we’re not dating.”

“Not yet.”

“Shut up!”

“They don’t have to know we’re going on a date, then. Plus, the days you work can be like little dates.”

“Yeah except there will be two children up our asses.”

“You can manage.”

“Fine, Heffley. But if I lose my job you’ll be owing me. Like literal money.”

“Deal.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

[. . .]

A/N: sometimes ur 20 pages into a diary of a wimpy kid rodrick heffley oneshot and you ask urself wtf am i doing with my life. this is the product of that. i wrote this THREE YEARS AGO WOW so i edited some of it to post it here but nothing major cause i didn't want it to lose its energy lol. btw i was in fact like. actually in high school at the time lmao. luv yall!

[reidmania]

inbetween | spencer reid

good riddance x spencer reid one shot series master list

summary ; after months over talking over email, you and spencer finally meet in person.

warnings ; reader & spencer fall in love over emails, meeting in person, insecure reader, insecure spencer, worries about not being enough, pretty much just pure fluff tbh.

an ; in between yall. this song. this is the first oneshot in the good riddance x spencer reid one shot series!! while i waiting for the poll to finish!!

part one, part two, part three

‘I just can't come between 'em, they got their own thing I wish he'd stop pretendin', he won't let his phone ring. For more than a couple seconds, oh, I think maybe two. two hearts just fallin' in and out of love for somethin' new. ‘i wish that you could see 'em, their faces lighten up their past is cold and empty, they know it's been enough of waitin' on somebody, someone who doesn't care but he knows her name, she knows he'll always be there’

<>

The email rang up at exactly 5:30, exactly when you expected it to. You were sitting at your desk at work, knees pulled to ur chest as you spun on the desk chair. Your coworkers paid no mind to your antics, after working in the safe office for years, with each other. They were used to it by now.

You chewed at your lip as you refreshed your email when the clock changed to exactly 5:30, a wide smile dawned your face when you read the email, you heart ached with longing as your eyes traced over the words on the screen, your stomach tightening and your heart clenching.

Sent from dr.spencerreid@gmail.com at 5:30pm

Hi.

I don’t know when this will send because I’m writing it while on the jet, probably as we get lower and more towards landing, I’ll spare you the scientific details. We only got back from a case this morning, early. Which is why it has taken me so long to reply. Im sorry.

We got a case in Maryland, which I remember you telling me, is where you live. I know I should probably just ask for your phone number but I kind of enjoy the emailing thing. It’s a lot less nerve racking because I can try to pass it off as professional, even though a lot of the time our conversations aren’t.

I actually don’t think we have ever had a professional conversation. Which is a good thing. I really enjoy our conversations no matter what we are talking about. I really enjoy talking to you.

I hope this isn’t too forward but I wanted to know if theres any chance I could see you while I’m in Maryland for this case. I don’t know when it would be or how long I’d be able to see you for, but I do really want to see you. If thats okay with you.

I guess I should give you my number, so you know I’m not some creepy old man. That would be ironic since I work at the FBI and my job is to stop people like that… I don’t know.

Heres my number, 023387677

Love, Spencer.

Your stomach tightened at the idea of seeing him in person. You never admitted it, but you knew he wasn’t an old man, you knew exactly who he was. You made the decision to google his name 6 months ago, when the two of you first started emailing back and forth after he accidentally sent a work email to the wrong person and you replied. It started as just telling him he had sent it to the wrong person, then he thanked you and apologised and made a joke and then the conversation just flowed.

You had been having conversations with Spencer Reid for six months and you felt like you knew more about him than you did yourself. He told you about his day, and about things he had been through, He opened up to you about his addiction and his mom and you opened up to him about your own trauma and issues.

Spencer Reid was your best friend and you had never met him. You had never even heard his voice. You only had seen his face on google when you searched up ‘Spencer reid FBI’ and a photo came up, he looked younger than you assumed in it, seeing the photo was from a few years ago. You felt slightly bad since you knew he could google you and probably come up empty handed — you had the upper hand.

You look at the clock as it inches closer to six o-clock when you finish work. A boring office job, you often complained to Spencer about. It was ironic since his job literally traumatised him, and yet you complained about the boring desk job, although he never ever compared, he would listen and comfort you after a bad day no matter what, just like you did for him.

You don’t reply to the email he sent as you typed the number he sent into your phone, saving the contact under ‘spence’ The nickname that had developed only weeks into the two of you talking. You send him a text, letting him know it was you, saying hi.

“Phone.” You hear your boss, warning you about using your phone at work, you lift your head an apologetic smile on your face as you close your phone, placing it face down on your desk as you close your email and return to your work after muttering out a sheepish, ‘Sorry!’

Spencer is sitting in a conference room of the police station in Maryland. He didn’t know it but he was only two blocks away from the office you worked. He never usually cared to check his phone while working — nothing could be as important as the case.

Until you, until now.

He found himself hanging out to feel the buzz in his pocket, he found himself checking his phone just in case maybe he missed the message. Just in case you did message.

He also checked his email a lot.

“Whats up with boy wonder?” Derek asked as he spun a chair to sit on it backwards, resting his arms on the back of the chair as he looked around at the other team members. Spencer focus on anything other than the case.

“He gave mystery girl his number” Emily said, patting Spencers shoulder softly to get his attention as she walked past him, placing a coffee down in front of him. Spencer noticed how it was his normal order — despite the fact lately he had been getting your order, after he found out what it was. It made him feel a little bit closer to you.

“Oo, Okay lover boy.” Derek hummed approvingly, raising his eyebrow slightly as he looked down at the boy. Spencer sighed as he let back in his chair, tossing his phone on the table as he checked to get no message. “Nothing yet?” Emily asked, knowing Spencer had been stressing since he sent the email on the jet, nearly two hours ago.

He didn’t know it hadn’t even delivered until a few minutes ago.

“Shes probably just busy” Spencer muttered as he checked his watch for the time. 5:33pm, you’d be at work.

Derek shared a look with Emily, both with teasing smiles on their faces. They had watched Spencer obsess over the girl for the past 6 months, even after he tried to hide it for the first few. He did a horrid job, they all noticed him smiling at his computer and typing away more often than ever, they noticed his focus slight adverted. It took a bit but they eventually got it out of him when you didn’t email him back for a week and he was going insane with worry that maybe you were ghosting him, or that you were hurt.

He confided in his team, you emailed him a few days later saying your wifi went down and none of your emails were going through. He was instantly relieved.

His phone buzzed on the table, 5:35pm. His hand instantly reached out for his phone. His eyes widened and his lip twitched upwards as he read the message that lit his screen.

“And lover boy is in” Derek whispered to Emily, loud enough that Spencer could hear that only ended up in Spencer sending him a glare, before typing out a reply and sending it, asking to call you tonight when he got finished.

“Alright, We got a lead” Hotch said entering the room.

You leant against the back of your head board, your hair wet and dripping down the back of your neck as you waited nervously for call to ring through your phone. You were almost terrified of what the conversation might hold. You were glad you were calling before you agreed or disagreed to meeting him, you could feel out whether or not it might be awkward or not.

You almost jumped out of your skin as your phone started ringing, anxiety pooled in your stomach as your skin flushed hot, causing the drops of water on the back of your neck feel as if it was burning the skin. You reached out for your phone that rested on your bed side table, answering the call.

“Hi.” You muttered out a breath of air. You couldn’t even help but smile as the realisation dawned on you. You were talking to Spencer. Finally, actually talking to him.

You heard a harsh breath on the other side of the phone before some shuffling. “Hold on” He mumbled out, you stomach fluttered at his voice as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you bit back a smile.

“Okay.” You said, you heard some more shuffling before the sound of a door closing, then a creek. And then a breath.

“Hi” He settled on, you sat up a bit, crossing your legs as his word came out almost breathy and nervous. It made your chest thump against your ribcage so much it ached. “Sorry— I should’ve waited till I was in my hotel room to call, I was excited— Sorry” He said.

You could hear the nerves in his voice and all it did was make your cheeks beat a rosy hue. “It’s okay. I was nervous” You admit softly, you try to hide the slight embarrassment in your voice but it fails you as your words come out small.

You hear him chuckle. You think the sound genuinely makes your mind fall empty of any coherent thoughts. “You don’t have to be nervous” He spoke so softly as if his words were an exhale he had been holding in.

“But I am” You muttered.

“Me too.” He said honestly. You found comfort in the fact he cared enough about this interaction to be nervous about it. You went to run your hand through your hair but paused with you felt the coldness — it was still very wet from your shower.

“Good” You sighed out, voice almost a whisper. You didn’t know why you were speaking so quietly, there was no one else in your house. There was no reason to be as quiet as you were.

“Is good that I’m nervous?” Spencer asked, you could hear the teasing in his voice. It made your head spin and the words get caught as you shook your head, before remembering he couldn’t see you.

“Yes- No- no. No.” You muttered out, “Its uh- Its not good that your nervous— I- Its just good that you care” You scrambled out, stuttering over your words as you grew flustered. It made you want to turn into your pillow and scream.

You heard him laugh, making your face screw up. “Shut up.” You muttered out as it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was laughing at you scrambling over your words, your free hand came up to cover your face as your cheeks felt on fire.

“No- Im sorry. Im sorry. Of course I care, you know I care” He said softly as he collected his laughter, his voice dripping honesty for a moment as he spoke genuinely in a way that made your knees feel weak — Thank god you weren’t standing. You were silent for a moment as a smile dawned on your face.

“Tell me about your day.” He requested gently. You heard some more shuffling you could only assume he was getting comfortable in bed. You pictured it and it made your stomach burn with longing. Wishing it wasn’t just an image in your head.

And you did, you told him about your day and he told you about yours; the conversation flowed simply and sweetly from then on. He teased you whenever you stuttered over your words, you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke.

You and him spoke until your voice was quiet and drowsy with sleep, until your eyes were fluttering shut and you went unresponsive for a moment before he asked if you were asleep and you would wake up to the sound of his voice, muttering out a no, to which he would chuckle, and tell you to go to sleep.

When you fell asleep, he waited ten minutes to make sure you were really asleep before hanging up. His heart full as he fell asleep smiling.

Sorry I fell asleep. If i didn’t throw you off completely and you still want to see me, im free any day after 6, when i finish work.

Spencer smiled at the message. The acceptance. You were accepting meeting him, seeing him. He couldn’t fathom the idea of anything you doing ever throwing him off. You had wiggled your way into his chest months ago, and you stayed consuming every part of him everyday since. He didn’t see that changing any day soon, or ever.

He sent you an address to a bar Derek suggested the team going to after work. He didn’t know if maybe it was too forward, or might be awkward with his team there, but at least if it didn’t go well there was people around.

He closed his phone as he waited for your reply, his mind replaying the conversation he had with you last night, how sweet you sounded, how your laugh made his heart clench, how whenever you said his name or spoke a little louder he felt light headed, unable to focus on anything but you.

There was anxiety in his stomach when he realised the two of you never quite talked about what it all meant. What the months of conversation back and forth was. He realised he didn’t know what you wanted. What you expected.

Maybe you just saw him as a friend, maybe to you the conversation is nothing more than friendly. Honestly, if that was the case Spencer didn’t think he would be able to deny you of that. He would do anything to keep you in his life, even if it caused a slight ache in his chest. He had told you things he couldn’t imagine telling anyone else, he trusted you in a way he didn’t know possible, and it may be stupid, maybe naive, but Spencer didn’t care.

The way he felt for you took over any ounce of doubt in his mind, it overtook the insecurity welling in his mind, that maybe you wouldn’t like him, not the way he liked you.

He had never felt so much for a person. He had never felt so much point blank. He could hardly fathom you feeling for him near the amount he felt for you.

Your hands traveled over your jeans softly as your palms grew sweaty as you stepped inside the bar. Thanking the guy you held it open for you as he walked out. You were instantly overwhelmed by the amount of people, the music playing and the people chatting. You probably should have gotten changed first instead of coming straight after work but you were too nervous and didn’t want to give yourself time to dwindle in your insecurities then chicken out.

You manoeuvred your way through the people, quiet apologies leaving your lips as you looked around for Spencer, or anyone who looks like they might be an FBI agent.

What does an FBI agent look like? you thought, as you let out a sigh, finally getting out of the crowd of people as you got to the back of the bar, a lot more free of space. A few people around, standing at tables. You skimmed over for a moment as you tried to catch any glimpse of the boy that you could.

You heard your name, making you spin on your heels. You saw a dark haired girl smiling at you. Well that isn’t spencer.

“Yes?” You said, smiling at her as you tried to hide the anxiety building in your veins. Your hand coming to push hair off your face softly as you try to focus on the girl in front of you. She grins widely, “Spencer is over there, you looked like you were looking for someone…” She said, my smile instantly widened as you looked over to where she nudged her head.

your breath got caught in your throat as your eyes settled on him, the photo didn’t do him justice in any way. His hair was messy and slightly grown out, he was engrossed in a conversation with who you could only assume was Derek Morgan, who Spencer had told you about. His tie was crooked in his suit as he lifted his arm to sip the drink in his hand.

you tear my eyes away as you look at the lady who is smiling at you. “Happy with that?” She asks. It takes you a moment to recognise her as Emily, whom Spencer had also told you about. You can hardly put it into words how your chest feels like its gonna explode as your heart thumps.

“He is gorgeous.” You breathe out, shaking your head as words fail you, your eyes trail back to him for a moment to see him laughing, you see his head turn towards the door, as if he is waiting for you to walk through them.

Emily smiles, patting your shoulder softly, “Cmon Mystery girl” She said, you pay little attention to the nickname as she encourages you to walk towards the table with her. Your legs feel like Jelly with every step that you take, your stomach twisting in the familiar feeling of anxiety.

When she pauses at the table your breath hitches. “Oi Reid” She mutters, both he and Derek turns their head towards her, “Look who I found” She says softly, hand brushing over your shoulder.

Spencers eyes skip over to yours and you watch an emotion pull his features. An emotion you can’t quite place and it makes your stomach ache at the uncertainty, insecurity creeping up the back of your neck.

“Hi” You breathe out as you look at him. Theres a moment of silence before he is pushing away from the table and walking around to you. His arms around you the moment you are in reach and it makes your muscles tense slightly before relaxing completely in his hold as you wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him back.

Emily and Derek watch in amusement for a moment, smiling when they see the look on Spencer’s face. The one you couldn’t place the one they knew all too well.

He was in love.

He was in love before seeing you, he knew that but watching you stand there grinning at him made him all the more sure about it. His hand rested on your waist as he pulled back from the hug to look at your face.

“Hi” He whispered back.

You chewed at your lip at you bit back the wide smile that tried to force its way into your features. His hand traveled up to your face before he could stop it hand cupping your face gently.

You eased, leaning into his touch the warmth of his hand feeling gentle against the soft skin of your cheek. “Y-You- I- Hi.” He stuttered this time.

You grinned, “Cat got your tongue?” You ask, teasing him like he would every-time you stuttered over the phone. He just grins in response.

“No. You’re beautiful” He said, eyes dancing over your face, he looked at you like he was trying to memories every little detail. Your stomach tightens and your knees felt weak as the compliment left his mouth. You had been told that before, but it felt different coming from him. He said it with honesty and sincerity.

“So are you” You said back before hugging him tightly again. He didn’t complain at all, instead his arms fell tightly around your waist as he held you against him, as if he was scared that if he let go you would disappear.

The night went on, you stayed by spencer’s side, his hand on yours or around your shoulder gently as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of you being next to him. You never complained — you took it all as a compliment and leant into his touch.

“Are you cold?” Spencer asked as you and him walked outside of the bar, hand in hand. he noticed the way you shivered as the cold hair hit the skin of your bare arms. You turn your head to look up at him, the look in his eye enough to make your chest clench around the fat of your heart.

“A little” You admit. It was nothing you couldn’t handle, but spencer was instantly pulling off his suit jacket for you, slugging it gently over your shoulders as the two of you walked down the street. You paused in your steps as you looked up at him.

“Thank you.” You say.

“Its okay- I don’t want you to be cold” He said softly. You couldn’t help but smile at his kindness, but you shook your head. “For that too— But I meant, for asking to see me. Thank you for thinking of me when you heard about where the case was — for talking to me everyday. Thank you for being my best friend Spence” You said softly as you lean against your car as you and him stop in front of it.

His lip twitches upwards into a smile as his hand drops yours instead resting softly on your lips. “I always think of you.” He admits, eyes on yours.

Your breath gets caught in the back of your throat. “Spencer.” You say softly.

He looks at you, really looks at you. He is seeing you. He is seeing every little thing you have told him over the last six months, every little detail about you there was to know, and all he could think about was he wanted more, he wanted to know you more.

“Yeah?” He says, his voice a whisper.

You feel anxiety pool in your stomach as the question lingers on the tip of your tongue. There was a pull towards him you couldn’t ignore, the same pull you felt when you received his email, six months, 2 weeks and 3 days ago. You’d count the hours but you figured that was more his style.

“You can say no, I want you to know that” You said, you wanted to make it perfectly clear that his response to this was completely up to him and you didn’t want to feel pressured. “Can I kiss you?” You ask.

His lips are on yours before you can even finish the question. One hand of his travelling to the small of your back to bring you in closer while the other tangles in your hair, cradling the back of your neck. Your hands instantly cup his face as you press your lips against him. Your lips together saying more than words ever could.

This, right here, him, right now.

It was everything and more.

[lesservillain]

baby daddy!eddie x mom!reader

cw: smut, non established relationship, best friend!eddie as well, idiots in love

wc: 3.8k

Closing the door as gently as he could, Eddie tip toed down the hall of the trailer and rounded into the kitchen to get himself a beer. He’d played hard enough with Autumn that she could barely keep her eyes open through her bath, but that also meant he wore himself out in the process. So after cracking open a can, he plops his ass down and turns on the TV, ready to chill until he passes out on the couch.

Well, that was the plan. Just as he got comfortable, there was a small knock on the trailer door. With a frustrated sigh, Eddie jumps back up, mumbling something about people coming to his house so late at night.

“Listen, I’ve told you all I don’t fucking deal anymore—Woah!”

Instead of some annoying kids looking for weed, Eddie was met with your sniffling nose and tear stained cheeks. He immediately went into best friend mode, wrapping you in a big hug and letting you get those emotions out.

After some crying and a soaked shoulder later, you finally peel yourself away from Eddie and attempted to talk, but only babbling came out.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Eddie says, thumbs rubbing the tops of your shoulders. “Just calm down and tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?”

You shook your head, doing your best to compose yourself.

“He-he-he g-got mar-married,” you hiccup out.

Eddie blinks at you. He knows exactly what you were talking about. Dustin told him back when that Harrington met a girl about 6 months ago and apparently they hit it off right away. The last thing he wanted to do was tell you about her considering your long time pining for him Especially considering he’s the reason Harrington would never ask you out. But you ended up finding out on your own, and devastated couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt.

It seemed soon in Eddie’s opinion, granted he would marry you tomorrow if you would say yes. When Dustin told him that he was going to be the best man that the wedding, Eddie had mixed feelings. He knew that it would kill you when you found out. That you’d react exactly as you were now.

Actually, you’re doing a little better than he anticipated.

“He came into the store and,” you blew your nose into the toilet paper he grabbed for you, “and I saw the ring on his finger when he was getting his money out of his wallet.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie says, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

“They haven’t even known each other that long! He’s such an idiot…”

“I’ve been trying to tell you that,” Eddie jokes, rolling his eyes.

“Oh god, what if--do you think it’s because she’s pregnant?”

Eddie’s pretty sure Dustin would have told him if that was the reason why, but it’s not an unreasonable guess.

“I don’t know, could be? Or maybe Steve Harrington is just an idiot like you said. And maybe they’ll be divorced by this time next year. Who knows, right?”

You sighed, leaning into Eddie and resting your head against him. “I don’t even know why I’m so upset. He was never going to ask me out anyway. No one wants a young single mom. Steve has his whole life to do what he wants, why would he be with someone who has so much baggage?”

“Hey, don’t say that about Audy,” Eddie scolds.

“No, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant,” you correct, “I was talking about myself. I’d never be with someone who didn’t accept Autumn. Even Steve Harrington. I just…I’m damaged goods, Eddie.”

Eddie could feel himself getting upset but didn’t want to make things worse right now, so he took a few breathes to steady himself. He said your name sternly, pulling your full attention to him.

“I don’t like it when you say things like that. It makes me feel like it’s my fault--”

“Eddie,” you stop him before he can get another word out, “You know that you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve told you before that if I was going to get pregnant right out of high school with anyone that I wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else but you.”

Eddie knows this, and he feels the same. But it’s not what he wants.

Even though it was all a total accident, he hoped that night the two of you spent together was going to be the next step for both of you. And even though he was scared after you told him with tears in your eyes then that he had gotten you pregnant, he wished with all his might that it would bring the two of you closer together.

Which it did in a way. Obviously the two of you would be bound together for the rest of your lives, but it wasn’t in the way he wanted. You still were head over heels for Steve, and there was no way Eddie could even compare to the king.

“Yeah…I know.” He says somberly. Your brows pinch, making him worried he should have said something else.

Then your expression changed. You looked at him intensely for a moment, before your eyes became lidded and…were you leaning in?

Eddie thought fast, making a quick decision to put his hand over your mouth, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyes go wide as dinner plates, tears perching on your waterline as what hot embarrassment washes over you.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, suddenly regretting everything. This could have been his chance and he was an idiot.

You pull his hand from his mouth, sitting in silence for a moment before you begin to laugh. It catches Eddie off guard and he freezes.

“Eddie, I should be the one apologizing,” you say with giggles. “I’m the one who was stupid enough to try and kiss her best friend for a second time. We both know what happened the first time and the last thing we need is history to repeat itself.”

Eddie still felt conflicted. Your tone wasn’t sitting right with him, like there was some level of self depreciation in your words.

After a moment you stop laughing. Your face warps into worry as you stand from the couch.

“I-I need to go—“

“No, wait!” Eddie stands to grab your wrist before you could run away. He pulls you into him and hugs you tightly to him. You stand still before slowly wrapping your arms around him, gripping his shirt in your hands.

“Listen, I know you’re going through a lot emotionally right now, but…I’m here for whatever you need. Even if…” He trails off for a moment, knowing that he’s just going to hurt himself if he lets you use him. But he can’t turn you away when you need him. He’d rather you take advantage of his feelings than run off to someone else who would hook up with you without second thought.

“Even if it means crossing a boundary that we’ve already crossed before.”

Eddie feels you press into him harder, face buried in his chest. And when you look up at him, Eddie thinks he could melt into a puddle and let you mold him to however you’d like.

“I don’t think I should make any rash decisions right now,” you say with a sniffle. “I think I just need to clear my head. Let myself rot in my own misery instead of dumping it all on you.”

“Or,” Eddie says with a smile, “you could rot with me. I rented some movies and some beers in the fridge that have your name on them. I think we have some leftover pizza still, too.”

Your smile was so bright it was comparable to the sun rising. There was nothing in the world that could keep him down as long as you were happy. Eddie probably would have dropped out of school after his second failure if you hadn’t simply smiled at him and told him that he would graduate next year, for sure. He probably only did because you smiled at him every time he got a good grade.

The way you hugged him for a long time after a report card with no F’s on it kept Eddie’s head in the zone that last school year. And, well, the way your body felt under his when he finally graduated…

Eddie shook his head, wracking his brain for anything to keep his mind from thinking about that night right now. There’s no way him getting a boner while you were still holding on to him so tight would be good.

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” you finally say after staring up at him for several beats. But Eddie caught the somber look in your eyes. It was going to take a lot of distracting to get you in a good head space.

“You know, I think we might still have some popcorn, too.”

After a few drinks, some weed, and a movie and a half later, Eddie finds himself waking up on his couch at some point after falling asleep. The bright, staticy screen causes him to squint his eyes, turning his head enough to bump his chin against the top of your head.

Eddie looks down at where you’re leaning into his side. He vaguely remembers wrapping an arm around you before the two of you had succumbed to sleep. It pains him to possibly wake you but the urge to pee is what startled him awake in the first place, so he does his best to untangle himself from you and sneaks to the bathroom.

On the way back to the couch, Eddie decided to stop in his room and grab a blanket for the two of you. But when he returns, he finds you sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Hey,” you croak out, looking at him with squinted eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers back. “I brought us a blanket.”

You stretch before standing up from the couch. “I should probably head home, Eddie.”

“Sweetheart its,” he leans to check the time on the microwave, “3 in the morning.”

Your eyes go wide, hands running over your face. “It is? Fuuuuck.”

“Just stay,” Eddie says, walking over to you and wrapping you up in the blanket. You groan, feeling conflicted on if you should stay and sleep on Eddie’s couch or if you should brave the drive home.

“Hey, if you stay, you don’t have to drive all the way over here to get Fae in the morning.”

“Ugh, okay you got me,” you say, giving in. You sit back down on the couch and start to make yourself comfortable.

“Wait, you can sleep in my bed. Promise I don’t bite.”

That took less convincing as you pop back up, dragging the blankets behind you as you wobble to Eddie’s room. Eddie laughs as you plop into his bed, stealing one of his pillows to make yourself comfortable.

“Hey save some room for me,” he says, walking around to the other side to climb in. He lays next to you, adjusting in an obnoxious manner that has you giggling. You turn to face him and he does the same.

“I love you,” you say at the tail end of a giggle. It’s something said frequently between the two of you. Genuine as it’s spoken after years of friendship.

“Love you, too,” Eddie says with a sigh. Sleep soon takes you both over again. The only sounds that can be heard is the sound of the a/c doing its best to cool down the trailer.

Eddie felt himself waking once again, this time much more comfortably in his own bed. He yawned, shaking a bit as the feeling of waking overcame his body.

The sun peaking through the cracks of his curtains gave the room just enough light that he could see the room with a slight glow. Turning his head, he chanced to see if you were still laying with him. He had a dream that you’d left with Autumn and ran away with Steve that left a sick feeling in his stomach.

Much to his delight you were indeed still occupying the bed with him. Smiling wide as you looked at him, already awake where you lay.

“Mornin’,” he says in his morning voice, and your eyes flicker.

“Morning,” you squeak back. As Eddie turns to face you, your hand finds its way out from under the covers and reaches out towards him. Your fingers gently glide across his cheek, rubbing against the stubble as you push his hair out of his face.

The way you’re looking at him has Eddie’s tummy feeling funny, but in a different way from his dream. You’re looking at him the same way he looks at you.

Suddenly, you push yourself up on your arm, hand still on his cheek as you start to lean in once again. Eddie’s heart beats hard against his chest as you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his in a soft kiss.

It lasts a few moments, and Eddie melts into it. It was a kiss like none he’s ever had before. Not even compared to the last time the two of you kissed before Autumn was born. This kiss felt like a hot cup of coffee on a cold winter morning, the warmth spreading to every part of his body as he drank you in.

When you pulled away, Eddie chased after you, not wanting it to end so soon unknowing if it would ever happen again. When you don’t kiss him again, his eyes finally open to meet yours. They’re bouncing everywhere, scanning his face as if looking for an answer written on his skin.

“Eddie…”

But Eddie doesn’t let you ponder much longer, hand snaking around your head to pull you into him once more. This time more feverishly, the heat palpable between the two of you.

You shift so that you can bury your hands in his hair, and Eddie takes advantage of this to move himself above you. Eddie kisses you into the pillow beneath you, long kisses turning into passionate smacking, poking the fire that was burning between you.

“Tell me to stop,” Eddie says as his lips begin to move down your cheek and to your neck. He says your name breathily, “Tell me now, because I won't be able to stop once this starts.”

“I-I can’t. I won’t,” you stutter, hands grabbing at his waist as he kisses and nips at your neck. Eddie breathes against you, body alight knowing that you wanted this as much as him.

“But,” you say, stopping him in his tracks. You give him a coy smile, nodding towards the door. “You better make it quick. You know she’ll wake up at any moment.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, “Don’t gotta tell me twice. Better get to work then.”

Eddie suddenly lifts the blanket above the both of you and disappears underneath it. Soft kisses leave a trail from your knees to the apex between them. Eddie slips his fingers in the hem of the sleep pants he let you borrow, pulling them down with your panties in one quick motion. There was barely any light to see, so he decided to just dive in tongue first.

He ate you out like a man starved. Your thighs try hard to wrap around him as he works you up on his tongue, but his strong arms hold you open for him. Eddie groans at the way your fingers grip his hair, tugging just enough to burn so good against his scalp.

Once he added fingers, you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep yourself quiet. It was like Eddie knew exactly what you liked, because not long after you were coming undone, riding his face as you did.

Eddie crawls up your body, head resting between your breasts as he pokes out from under the covers.

“Jesus, Eddie,” you pant, looking at him in awe.

“And that’s not even the best part,” he teases, making you roll your eyes at him. You grab his face and bring him closer to you, tasting yourself on his lips as you kiss him again.

Eddie rolls his hips subconsciously, and you can feel how hard he is as he grinds against you. You want to say you also forgot how big he was, but it’s something you didn’t want to admit you thought about often.

Your hand travels between you, fingers trailing against his skin as you reach the hem of his boxers. Slipping under it, you feel your way to his hard cock, taking it in your hand to pump him. He whines against your lips, hips moving faster in your grip. You watch with awe struck eyes as his beautiful face contorts in pleasure above you.

“Please,” he pants out as he fucks your hand, “Wanna be inside you. Can I?”

You nod silently, unbelievably turned on by your best friend for the second time now.

He works fast pulling his boxers off quickly, a loud thwaping coming from his cock smacking against his stomach after getting caught on the waistband. Your eyes go wide as you take in his size.

After almost 2 years you’re still shocked at what Eddie Munson is packing. Those dumb ass cheerleaders that picked the bone head jocks over him have no idea what they missed out on.

Eddie settled himself between your legs, spitting on his own cock to get it good and wet before rubbing it in your soaked folds. You had a moment of clarity, realizing that Eddie wasn’t wearing a condom. You opened your mouth to speak, but your words got caught up in a moan as Eddie pushed his way inside of you.

The stretch took your breath away. Eddie seesawed his way into your tight cunt, opening you up on his cock until he was balls deep inside of you. He placed his hands on either hip and started moving, holding you tight as he worked up his pace.

Every thrust felt like too much and not enough at the same time. The constant knocking against your sweet spot had you seeing stars quickly, still worked up from him eating you out. The pretty sounds that Eddie was making wasn’t helping either, but you still had enough mind to shush him so that he wouldn’t wake your daughter.

Eddie’s pace quickens, and he makes the fatal mistake of adding his thumb to the mix. It only throttles you to the edge for a second time this morning. It’s not much longer before your vision goes white, toes curling as your orgasm takes over. It's probably the hardest you’ve cum in a long time.

“Oh, fuck.”

You barely registered Eddie’s words, but you definitely felt the reason behind his curses. Eddie was cumming deep inside you, balls emptying into your pussy as you were still riding out your own orgasm.

In the moment it felt amazing, but the post orgasm bliss left you crashing as you realized the very real situation you were both in.

Eddie felt himself being pushed by you, taking him out of his own high as he stumbled back on his ass. As you open your mouth to speak, Eddie is hit with a wave of deja vu with every word.

“Did you fucking cum in me?” The words came out in slow motion and Eddie’s body broke out in cold sweat.

“I-I’m sorry. I was going to pull out, I just—“

“What? You forgot? Are you kidding me Eddie? Do you not remember what happened the last time?”

Right on cue, your daughter's whines could be heard from across the hall. You sigh, kicking the covers completely away from you and grabbing the pajama pants you had back on.

“Listen, I really am sorry,” Eddie says, looking at you with big, sad eyes. You groan, unable to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that.

“What are we going to do then, Eddie?” You ask him, walking out of his bedroom to get your daughter.

Eddie sits on the bed for a moment and thinks. He knows that you getting pregnant again while Autumn’s only and a half isn't ideal. Not that you being pregnant is ideal anyway, but honestly Eddie wouldn’t be mad about it.

He was so head over heels for both you and Autumn that he doesn’t hate the idea of another person to love is the worst thing. But he’s also not the one doing all the hard work. And if it wasn’t obvious the first time that having a kid wouldn’t fix any problems, then having a second would probably not make much of a difference in your feelings towards him.

The door opens again and Eddie watches as you enter with a squealing toddler on your hip, clearly happy to see both mommy and daddy.

“Morning, sweet girl,” Eddie cooes, scooping his baby up and smothering her with kisses, sending Autumn into a fit of giggles.

“I went ahead and changed her. If you want to dress her I’ll make breakfast.”

Eddie gave you a quick salute as you went to the kitchen, leaving him and your mini me to get ready for the day. It took a lot of wrestling but he was able to get the little one dressed, including hair done, and looking presentable for the day.

Fixing her up in her highchair, Eddie sat at the small kitchen table and breathed a sigh of relief. You shook your head at his theatrics, setting breakfast down for the both of them.

“Hey, I was thinking,” Eddie said, spooning some applesauce into Autumn’s mouth. “After we eat, why don’t I follow you to the pharmacy and we can pick you up a Plan B?”

You quirk an eyebrow in amusement. “You have Plan B money this time?”

“Ha ha,” Eddie laughs dryly at your reference to the last time you had sex, the both of you freaking out over having no money. Thankfully Eddie was able to get a good job at Hawkins Auto Body when you got pregnant. He makes pretty good money now considering he was able to get his own trailer. Money is still tight, but he can manage.

“Fine, better eat up then, or else you’re gonna have two mouths to feed instead of one.”

Eddie looks at your daughter, spitting image of him, besides your nose, and smiles. Maybe now isn’t the right time, but…maybe one day.

[sinofwriting]

Cover It All Up - Charles Leclerc

Words: 2,214 Summary: As she starts to get ready to meet her boyfriend's mom, she can’t help but be nervous considering that last time she met a boyfriend’s family he dumped her all because his parents didn’t approve of her.

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After the disaster of Lando Norris, she had told herself no more British men and no more F1 drivers. She had at least stuck to one thing.

Charles was different from Lando. The only thing they really seemed to have in common was that they both were F1 drivers and competitive people. But where Lando would get stroppy when she beat him in paddle or during their one bowling date, Charles would laugh, grinning at her as he kissed her in celebration, telling her how easy she made it look, despite that sometimes not being the case at all.

It wasn’t that Lando had been a bad boyfriend, he had been nice, just not for her. Or rather she wasn’t for him.

She thinks about it as she stares at herself in the mirror, regretting the sleeveless top she bought to meet Charles’ mom. It was pretty, the color complementing her perfectly, there was just one problem. The lack of sleeves. Meaning her tattoos were showing.

She had lost count how many she had after getting her first one when she was eighteen and then getting three more within that same month. She had some on her thighs as well, a tattoo on the back of her shoulder and a small one on her ankle.

She loves her tattoos, there isn’t a single one she regrets but as she looks at them now, she does. The shame and embarrassment from meeting Lando’s parents still has a spot in her mind.

They barely had spoken to her during the dinner, their eyes lingering on her tattoos, the multiple piercings in her ears. Her words had seemed to fall on deaf ears, her compliments, and questions. She hadn’t been surprised when a day later Lando told her that they didn’t approve of her. It made her laugh. Lando’s parents not approving of her because she had tattoos and a few piercings in her ears. She had been surprised when he broke up with her in practically the same breath.

“It’s just a lot, isn’t it?” He gestured at her. Blood had rushed to her cheeks. “What do you mean?” “Well,” He chewed on his lip for a second. “The tattoos, the piercings.” He shrugged. “It’s just a lot, a lot to see, to deal with.” That had made the blood rush more, knowing he was referring to when she got her last tattoo. “And besides.” He continued. “I can’t really be with someone that my parents don’t approve of. It would never work.”

The memory has her eyes stinging, she had never felt so small or embarrassed before. Taking her top off, she puts it back on its hanger, placing it back in the closet before looking at its contents. There wasn’t much. Charles had tried to get her to bring more stuff to his, but she had figured one suitcase was more than enough. It filled the two drawers he gave her, she ignored the existence that those two drawers belonged to a dresser that was hers, and her clothes that had to be hung up fit perfectly in the section he gave her. She also ignored that they didn’t fit perfectly, tons of free space around them.

As she looked at what she brought with her, she sighs. So much of her wardrobe was short sleeves, tank tops, and sleeveless things, all to show off her tattoos and here at Charles’ she only had one top that had full length sleeves.

It was cute, it just wasn’t the top she wanted to wear, she had imagined wearing when meeting Charles’ mom, but it would have to be the one. Pulling it off the hanger, she quickly pulls it on, just barely resisting the urge to make a face as she looks in the mirror. She forces her eyes away from the mirror as she begins to take her piercings out, including her fake septum one.

As she takes her helix out on her left, she sees Charles behind her.

“You’re putting different ones in?”

She makes a humming sound.

He smiles, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “Can I pick again?”

She can’t help but smile at the question, leaning back into him for a second. “You can pick something for my lobes. I’ll be wearing this top.”

He frowns as he looks at her tray of jewelry. “I thought you wanted to wear the one you bought yesterday.”

“It didn’t look nice on me.”

“Well, that can’t be true.” He lightly scoffs, before holding up a pair for her approval.

She shakes her head at the opal earrings, but opens her hand for him to place them in. “Next thing I know, you’ll be giving me earrings with your number.”

He flushes at the comment, looking away from her.

“Charles!”

He grins at her laughter, wrapping himself around her again, watching as she puts the earrings in. “You look beautiful with my number on you, mon amour. I can’t help but want to see you in it all the time.”

“Can I not pick another one?” He asks after a moment of her fiddling with her earrings, the backs of them always giving her a little more trouble. “Like uh,” he taps a spot on her ear, trying to remember it. “Your conch.”

She shakes her head, turning in his arms. “I’m not wearing any others today. You can pick all of them tomorrow.”

His eyebrows raise, “Including this one?” His hand goes between their bodies to gently press at her navel.

“Including that one.” She kisses his cheek. “Now, are you ready to go?”

He nods, eyes darting around her face, drinking her in before he frowns. “Amour, you aren’t wearing any other piercings?”

She shakes her head, stepping back. “I’m not wearing any others today.”

“I thought you just meant your ears, I didn’t think you meant your fake ones.” His frown deepens. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her go anywhere and only wear one visible piercing. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She tells him. “Just not feeling today.”

He looks at her, something not feeling right, but he nods. “Okay.” He kisses her forehead. “Let’s go then.”

As they walk to his mother’s, he can’t help but look at her. Not just because it’s hard for him to not look at her, which it is, because something is wrong. He’s never seen her cover up her tattoos when it hasn’t been cold out and he’s never seen her with so few piercings. It just isn’t her. It’s not who she is.

Her grip on his hand is also a little tight and he can see her fingers on her other hand constantly rubbing at her palm. She’s nervous, he realizes, feeling a bit stupid. He had thought that he had calmed the worst of them, but now as they grow closer, he fears he hasn’t.

Maybe he hadn’t told her enough how excited his mom was to meet her, to see her. She had so many questions about her tattoos and her piercings, where she got the fake ones, and so many other things it made Charles’ head spin. He had never seen her so excited to meet one of his girlfriends before.

“She’s going to love you.” Charles tells her as they reach the front door, pressing a small kiss to her cheek.

“Promise.”

She smiles at him, her nerves bleeding through. “Okay.”

He presses another kiss to her cheek before opening the door.

“Maman!” He calls, stepping inside. He wants to go further in the house but knows better than to leave the entryway with his shoes on. Bending, her hand still in his, he loosens the laces of his shoes with his free hand before getting them off. Staying bent over, he loosens the laces on hers as well, smiling at the large sigh she gives.

Standing straight he nearly jumps at the sight of his mom watching the two of them, a fond smile on her face. “Maman!” He greets, giving a squeeze to her hand before letting it go to hug his mom.

Wrapping his arms around her, he expects for her to murmur how much she’s missed him, fuss about his hair, press a kiss to his cheek, while she hugs him back, but all she does is give him a quick squeeze before moving out of his arms and past him. He looks at her wounded, but she doesn’t notice, enveloping his girlfriend in a hug, whose eyes widen before she returns it.

“Oh, you look beautiful, Y/N. I was so happy when Charles told me you’d be coming today.”

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Leclerc.”

“Pascale, please.” She says, finally pulling away. “Have you eaten? What would you like to drink? Come sit.”

Charles watches, mouth slightly dropped as his mother ushers her into the kitchen, completely ignoring him. She always asked him that, and told him to sit, no matter that he had grown up here. He was one of her babies, she always said, before gently pinching his cheek.

“Water is more than fine, Mrs. Leclerc.” He hears her laugh as he enters the kitchen and sees them sitting at the table.

“Please, call me Pascale.”

She smiles at his mom and he can feel the love he has for her grow more as she reaches for his mom’s hand, taking it in hers for a second. “Pascale.” She says, “Water is more than fine. And I have something for you.”

“Oh, there is no need for that.”

Charles watches, surprised as he sees her reach into her purse and pull out a jewelry box. He had no idea that she had brought something for his mom. “Charles mentioned that it can be hard to find nice topaz and opal jewelry.” She says, voice quiet and Pascale opens the box.

“It’s beautiful.” She breathes, carefully taking it out of the box.

His eyes widen as he sees the necklace in his mom’s hand. It was stunning. The topaz perfectly framed with opal. He had never seen anything like it.

“Mon amour,” the words are breathless as he shakes his head. “How did you?”

She ducks her head, “I wanted to give something to you,” she looks at Pascale. “That represents all of your kids. It was hard to find, but I’m happy I did.”

Pascale places a hand over her heart, tears stinging her eyes and she puts the necklace gently on the table before wrapping her arms around the girl. “Thank you, ange. Thank you so much.”

Charles watches as she melts into the hug, her nerves finally seeming to leave her and the sight of the two most important women in his life embracing makes him breathe easier, his own nerves disappearing.

“Now,” Pascale starts, pulling away. “Charles is going to pour us some wine.”

“Maman,” he tries protesting, but she continues ignoring him and he huffs before letting his feet lead him to where the wine glasses are.

“And you are going to tell me all about your tattoos.”

“Oh.” She looks shocked and Charles brows can’t help but furrow.

“You of course don’t have to.” Pascale rushes to say. “I just have seen so many pictures of them, from Charles and your Instagram, and would love to see them and hear about them. Your piercings as well. I had no idea you could get such good fake piercings.”

“No, I-I would love to tell you about them.” Her eyes glance over to Charles, who is concentrating on pouring wine. “I was just a bit nervous meeting you with all of those things. I didn’t know you had an interest.”

Pascale looks at her in confusion. “Since Charles showed me your photos, I have wanted to meet you. You are such a gorgeous girl and you make him so happy. And I love your tattoos. Did Charles never say?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Charles!”

He stops, eyes wide, just about to set the glasses of wine on the table. “What?”

“You never told her that I love her tattoos? Charles!”

“I thought I had.” He defends, putting a glass in front of both of them before sitting in the chair next to his girlfriend, his arm immediately coming up to rest on the back of her chair as he presses a quick kiss to her cheek. “I’m sorry, mon amour.”

“It’s okay.” She tells him, with a small laugh. She turns her head to look back at Pascale. “Really even if he had told me, I might have not believed him.” She pauses, taking a sip of a wine. “The last time I met someone’s parents, they didn’t care for my tattoos and piercings. He broke up with me over it.”

The older woman scoffs, shaking her head. “Their loss and our gain. They are lovely from what I’ve seen.”

“Would you like to know about my favorite one?”

“Yes!”

Charles watches fondly as she pushes up her left sleeve, exposing a myriad of tattoos before pointing at the one just above her wrist on the inside, telling his mom all about it. It’s a story he’s heard before, more than once, but just like his mom he can’t help but listen intently as well.

[butterymangowrites]

ten years in the making

paring: bakugou katsuki x fem reader

warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, no-quirks au, high school love confession, unrequited love turned very requited, almost non-con threesome, feels like cheating (but technically not), no cheating though, fuck boi bakugou, pining reader, obsessive/possessive bakugou, running away, biting, marking, creampie, breeding kink, angst, toxic relationship

word count: 6.2k

You still had the love letter you handed to him when you were both in high school. His spiky blonde hair was pretty under the spring sun, red eyes examining the envelope in your hands with a disgusted look on his face. 

On the rooftop of the school building, the wind blew extra hard. The chill of winter that lingered in the breeze made your face cold, but it was the rejection from Katsuki that numbed your whole body. 

“Take that shit away,” he sneered. “Be lame somewhere else. I don’t like you.” 

It was pathetic how you fixated on him because he helped you once from a petty thief who tried to steal your wallet. You shouldn’t have liked him that much, not when he was so clear in his stance on how he felt about you. But you were also just a girl, and girls had crushes on Bakugou Katsuki—you were just one of many, but no doubt the most pathetic one. 

Cause while others grew out of their crushes eventually, you did not. And Katsuki, being the spawn of the devil that he was, started to see you as some sort of entertainment. 

You followed him through university, enrolling in the same one. You begged your mom to stay at a dorm near campus, the same dorm Katsuki told you he would stay in. He lied. You knew on the moving day because he texted you photos of his new place from the front of the building to the room with an obviously different layout. 

The text said, ‘lol you really thought u got me huh?’ 

That sentence needed commas, and you… needed to get a grip. Yet, you did not. 

Still trying to be close to him, you went to every party he went to, even if it meant you had to see him with a different woman each time. He never stuck with one, telling you he was easily bored and that was why you and him would never happen. Because you were a soppy, hopeless romantic who would wait for him like a dog waiting for its owner to come home—his words. 

“When will it get through your thick skull, dog?” Katsuki rapped on your forehead with his knuckles. “You’re not my type.” 

Well, his type exited the room just now, leaving only you and a very naked Katsuki in it. He loomed over you menacingly close, trying once again to talk some sense into you, albeit in a very mean fashion. Tonight, he was particularly cruel. After texting you to buy him a box of condoms—stating a specific brand, flavor, and size—he made you sit and watch until the very end. 

You pretended to pay attention, but what you really looked at was the wall behind the scene playing in front of you. 

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at ten.” You changed the subject, ignoring his hot breath that fanned over your face.

“Yeah, mom misses you like hell,” he jeered. “How did you do it, inserting yourself into my family?” 

It was simple, actually, just offering to drive him home for a monthly family visit with a gift for his mom and dad every time, without fail, even though he got his own car. His mom, Mitsuki, never trusted his driving skills anyway, saying he was too reckless. So she was grateful for you, to the point of inviting you over for dinner as thanks whenever you dropped her son home, and you accepted the kindness. 

Katsuki would roll his eyes, but he let it all happen, cause why would he say no to a personal chauffeur? All he had to do was sit prettily and blast his one-hour playlist until the car was parked in front of his childhood abode. And after eating and helping with the dishes, you would be gone, back to your own family house a couple of streets away—convenient. 

You knew you were just a tool to Katsuki, his lackey, but you were also as stubborn as a mule. 

And as dumb as a clown… 

After many years hounding for Katsuki’s attention, you finally got it when you were both twenty five. The first time he kissed you, he was drunk in your apartment. He was frustrated with a colleague who screwed up an important meeting with a potential client and decided to come rant your ears off with two packs of beer—one for him, one for you. 

You never thought the night would end up with him pinning you to the floor, his mouth devouring yours and his hands popping the buttons of your work shirt until your bra-clad tits showed. 

“Thought you would follow me anywhere,” said Katsuki, red eyes locked onto you from where he was, face nestled between the soft mounds of your breasts. “But you chose a different company, live far away from me, texting seven times in seven months. Traitor.” 

“You’re heavy.” Your words struggled to come out. From when he used to be lanky and the same height as you, he was none of that now. The growth spurt hit him like a freight train. In the blink of an eye, he grew into a giant of a man, tall and filled with muscles, even more so now that he was in his salaryman era. You wondered how he still found time to work out as often as he did when you barely caught any sleep. 

After graduation, you both landed jobs in different companies. And if you were being honest with yourself, you would say the reason you accepted the offer was partly because running after Katsuki and answering his every beck and call started to… tire you. Forced by duty and responsibility, it helped you distance yourself away from him. Cause Lord, you doubted you could have done it on your own.

Getting his text today saying he would come visit, you were dumbfounded, even thinking it was a joke til you got another text an hour later saying he arrived.

You shouldn’t have let him in, shouldn’t have reconnected. You were almost off the noose before he came and adjusted the knot, tightening it. After that night, he came visit once a week on Friday. Kisses slowly evolved into soft touches, then heavy petting, and finally—sex. 

Fucking your brain out, that was what he did most of the times, leaving your ass red and face wet from crying. On rare occasions, it was slow, deep, like he wanted to mold you into the shape of his cock. But all was intense, asking for eye contact and name-saying, and it was Katsuki who did the asking, which surprised you to no end. 

“You wanna come home? Mom and dad miss you,” mumbled Katsuki one autumn night. It had been three months since that first drunken kiss. “They got a new dog. But old people are always lonely, hell knows why.”

With that, not only him, but the monthly visit returned, too. 

Their dog was a loudmouthed chihuahua named Katsumi. It barked at you non-stop from the moment you got out of the car, louder when Mitsuki raced out the front door to hug you. After dinner, it found you and Katsuki in the laundry room with its master’s teeth nibbling down your neck and barked snappily, making Katsuki jump.

When you let out a roar of laughter, his eyes widened with a look of what seemed like wonder. His pupils dilated when he leaned down to take your lips in a fierce kiss. For a moment, everything was perfect. 

Had you mentioned being dumb? 

A month later, there was a knock on your door. Katsuki hips slowed down mid-pounding before he stepped back from you and the bed, leaving you empty. 

“Keep your ass up. Don’t fucking move.”

You only let out a soft hum as a response, not understanding why or who would be here at this hour. Were you too loud? Maybe someone was here to complain. You pondered, face still down against the soft mattress with your rear up as instructed. Katsuki would handle them, whoever they were. 

“Well, I see why you never call anymore, Katsuki-kun.” 

The voice was close, too close—its owner was in the bedroom with you. When the realization hit, you bolted, shooting out of your position and scooting back, all the while pulling the duvet up to shield your nakedness from the newcomer’s eyes.

She was a woman about your age and height, standing at the foot of the bed in a skimpy dress. 

“Do me a favor. Shut the fuck up,” said Katsuki, confirming they really did know each other. 

It was like your brain stopped functioning. You saw Katsuki walking towards you but was too slow to think what your next move should be. So you let him pull you to him by the duvet because you wouldn’t let go of it. When he sat you on his lap, you felt something wet gliding down your cheeks.

“Hush now, princess.” He wiped the dripping drops with both of his thumbs. “You seriously thought our relationship was exclusive? You thought you fixed me?” 

Another set of fat tears cascaded down when he kissed you, seasoning the kiss salty. 

“Seven months, seven texts, no calls,” he said. “Who do you think you fucking are, leaving me like that?”

You knew, you knew it was too good to be true. And when he turned to the other side to kiss the woman who was now naked and sitting on the bed—your bed–beside him, you also knew it was time to let go. The silly crush, the well-kept love letter, the admiration that you should have weaned off long ago—they all needed to go. 

Getting up from his lap while he was distracted, you gathered your clothes off the floor and left the bedroom without turning back. You got dressed in the living room and closed the front door silently when you left the apartment. You didn’t want him to hear, not wanting to cause a scene, not wanting to see him anymore. 

You were sitting in the car in the apartment parking lot, trying to find a hotel to crash at when you got a text from Katsuki.

‘you thought you got me huh?’ 

You blocked him. 

There was only a month left on your apartment’s lease; you would give a notice to your landlord tomorrow that you would move. Everything would be alright, you told yourself. Katsuki might never bother you anymore since he had got what he wanted—your absolute humiliation.

It was different from that one time he told you to stay and watch him rail the life out of that girl when you were in college. At that time, you knew you were nothing to him, knew he did that to hurt you. This time, you thought you were something to him. And it hurt, a thousand times worse to realize that you weren’t, and that he still wanted to hurt you. 

—

Shit, shit, shit, shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Those were the only words spinning around in his head since you were gone, really gone. You walked out of that door so fucking demurely. Even when he stopped kissing his ex-booty call to listen, he didn’t hear you wail or see you come crawling back. 

So he texted, leaving the girl he called here to demean you to quickly type on his phone. When the message was marked ‘read’ but got no response, he cursed, “Fuck!” 

“Come on, Katsuki-kun. Let’s have some fun,” the girl whined. 

“Sh!” He shushed her, still tapping the screen.  

She probably looked at him like he was possessed by an evil spirit, but he couldn’t care less. 

‘Who did you think you were? My gf? Lol.’

He was so in a hurry he forgot to type in lowercase. 

‘Lovesick foll’

‘*fool’

‘Where u going’

‘Dont wanna watch’

‘?’

You didn’t read at all except for the first text. That made him get off the bed and get dressed, running out of the apartment to punch the elevator down to the first floor. When he exited the building, your sedan was already on the street; he saw the taillights, remembered the plate. It got farther in each second that passed, and there was not a darn thing he could do about it. 

Fuck, shit, fuck, shit, fuck shit, fucking fuck. 

For some reason he knew, this time, you were gone for good. Not an absence the next day at school after he told you he lost his virginity to some girl in another class, not the seven months with a few texts to check in with him. This time, it was for good. 

Like hell he was gonna let that happen. 

—

You ended up staying at the hotel for a week, scared Katsuki might still be lurking around. While you knew he got his biggest fill of breaking you this time, you wanted to be sure. Then, as soon as you found a new place, you moved out. 

At work, you asked your boss, Aizawa, for a transfer to another branch, telling him it was for personal reasons. You swore you saw him squint his weary eyes, but after asking you a couple more questions, he agreed nonetheless.

“If it were stress, it’d be no different in another branch. Hope you know that,” Aizawa drawled. 

“I do, sir,” you replied, tired from the poor quality of sleep your situation and the hotel bed gave you. 

“And as soon as possible, you say?”

“Yes, sir,” you affirmed. “Please.” 

The transfer was done in one week, all thanks to your boss. 

Restarting your mundane life, it took two months for you to regain some sort of peace found in everyday’s routine—waking up, going to work, coming home, sleeping, waking up again. There was no contact from Katsuki, only the ghost of his taunts that came hand in hand with the memories of his caresses you could not dispel remained, making guilt creep up your spine every time you touched yourself to climax imagining it was his hand. 

You would find someone else. You and Katsuki, it was ten years in the making. You were fifteen years old on that rooftop, confessing to a boy you thought was the most beautiful person in the world, having no clue how your action would play out. It would not be possible to banish those ten years in two months, no matter how despicable he was to you. And that was a shame. 

It took one phone call from Mitsuki to disrupt your normalcy. 

“I just wanted to know how you were doing, honey.” said Katsuki’s mom, sounding worried. “It’s just—you’re gone again, like those months. And Katsuki won’t tell me what’s going on, which means something must have happened. I need to—I—”

She was trying to find words, and you didn’t want to interrupt. 

“I need to know you’re okay.” She finally let it out. “Just come visit, honey. You don’t have to bring my son.”

“We miss you.” 

It was those words that brought you to the Bakugou house the following weekend. 

“Oh, honey.” Misuki stopped before you, eyeing you from head to toe. Katsumi barked incessantly, all the while trying to sniff the bag of fresh-baked cookies you bought for the family. When the woman beckoned you to come close and enfolded you in her arms, you teared up a bit. 

“That airhead of a son,” the older woman grumbled. 

Getting in the house thwarted all the cold delightfully. You put your coat on the couch next to where you sat, waiting for the tea Mitsuki said she was going to get. You always liked the Bakugou house, asking Katsuki to walk him home every day just to see it from the outside. He never let you in. Ironically enough, it was never him who invited you in, it was his mom. 

Where was Mitsuki now? You looked around for the matriarch, but instead, you saw Katsuki. 

“About time you showed up.” 

There was so much fighting, so much push and pull, and trying to run away, and crying for help; yet, no one came. Katsuki had to carry you on his shoulder to go upstairs because you resisted profusely and refused to walk on your own. 

Door closed, lock clicked. A second later, you were dropped on his bed unceremoniously. You had never been in his room before and didn’t want to now. But since there was no choice, you took the opportunity to look around, taking everything in. 

His room was so… boy. A drum set in one corner, an expensive-looking gaming PC in another with a shelf filled with mangas and action figures next to it, posters of his favorite anime character plastering all over the walls. 

You remembered he liked All Might, the blonde-haired hero from a shonen manga you didn’t read but knew every detail from Katsuki’s ceaseless babble. You even broke into your savings buying a dozen raffle tickets till you won the big prize—a large figure he said he was saving up for—and gave it to him as a birthday present. 

He probably didn’t keep it. 

“Don’t be mad at mom, okay? I was on my knees begging her for help. That was on me,” Katsuki spoke softly, as if he was trying not to spook you. “Old hag hit me so hard dad had to intervene. But I’m her son. You understand, right? She would never abandon me.”

It was him between you and the door; you just needed to get past him, unlock the door and run. Slowly, you got out of the bed to stand on your own feet. The moment they touched the floor, however, was brief. Because Katsuki leaped from where he stood, taking him only two strides before he got you again. 

Back on the bed, you fought him tooth and nail, punching, kicking, biting, while he tried to sedate you with a soothing voice. But there was nothing soothing or gentle about this man—a monster. You saw through him. 

His grip on your wrists was immovable, anchoring you to the bed with one hand. He caged your body with his, examining you like a predator sizing up its prey, his presence all domineering, demanding obedience. 

“Shhh, settle down. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he coaxed. 

“Let me go!” 

All you could move now was your legs, which you did to your best ability, but to no avail. Katsuki waited it out, allowing you to try however you want to get away without saying anything. Eventually, you stilled, so exhausted you couldn't move anymore. 

“There, there. That’s my good princess,” he murmured, his usual harsh features softening. 

Frustration brought tears to your eyes. It took less than you thought, easier than expected, to suck it all up and spill everything that occupied your mind. 

“What do you want? What do you want from me, Katsuki? I'm sorry I confessed to you that day. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. But please—please.” Your voice got hoarse and lost at the second please. You had to cough to get it back. “I have learned my lesson. You and me, it will never happen—will never work out. I know that now. I get it, believe me, I do,” you choked through your tears, pleading. “I won't like you anymore, Katsuki, so please—let me go.” 

“Like me?” he reiterated. “I thought you loved me.”

“What?” 

He sighed, his free hand searching for something in one of his sweatpants’ pockets. When he pulled his hand out, you saw a letter—the one you gave it to him and got rejected. All these years, it had been kept with you, safely in your trinket box. Now, it was in his hand, opened. He finally accepted it, but at what cost? 

“I need you to read it to me,” he commanded, “out loud.” 

“Please, don’t make me do this.” 

“Listen,” he said. “I’m going to let go of your wrists and give you this letter that you wrote for me, and you’re going to read it—word—for—word.” He used the envelope to brush down the bridge of your nose. “If you tear it up—if you do, princess—I’m going to make you rewrite it. And it better be as good, if not better, than this one.”

He let go of your wrists and gave you the letter. 

“Oh, and if you run,” he added. “I’ll catch you, and we start over. Clear?” 

You nodded and took the envelope, hands shaking noticeably when you took the letter out. Everything was under Katsuki’s observation. He sat astride your thighs without putting all his weight on you, waiting patiently. 

“To Katsuki, if you are reading this, that means you accepted my letter, thank you!” You wiped tears out of your eyes to see better. “I know you get a lot of letters like this. It must be a bit of a hassle reading love confessions everyday, right? But please bear with me, I will try to keep this—” 

Interrupted, you looked past the letter and saw Katsuki lifting the hem of your sweater up and leaning down to place a kiss on your exposed stomach.

“Go on,” he prompted. “Don’t mind me. Don’t stop.” 

“I will try to keep this short,” you continued, completing the last sentence, trying to ignore the fact that your jeans were being unbuttoned and pulled down. “You know, girls in our class often say they love your hair, your eyes, but a lot of them are scared of your personality.” You felt his breath through your panties, hot. “I disagree. I think you are nice, brave, and kind. And don’t get me wrong, I love your hair and eyes too.”

“You’re cute, baby,” said Katsuki as he pried your legs open. Without taking off the underwear, he licked your pussy through it. 

“Katsuki!” 

Dragging his tongue up, he mumbled, “Keep reading.”

“And I love you.” You read on and saw his eyes roll back at that specific sentence. 

Suddenly, he switched from licking to sucking, making the crotch all wet with his saliva. You were preparing to read the next part when he made it all the more difficult by moving aside the damp fabric and rubbing his face into your naked cunt. His nose, lips, chin, all soaked in your embarrassing glossy juice. You cursed yourself for giving in, for getting wet. 

“Did I tell you to stop?” 

You let out a sob, raising the letter in your hands up again to read. 

“I know we don’t know each other well, and this feeling is not reciprocated—”

Why did he have to slurp the juice like that? He made it hard, so hard for you. 

“I’m—just a classmate after—all. But what I said, I said it with—a sincere—heart. So even if—you don’t love me back, please—let me keep—this feeling, I promise I—will treasure it.”

Panting sharply, you stopped before the next paragraph when you felt his tongue massaging your clit. Grasping his hair with both of your hands, you forgot you still held the letter. There was an audible scrunch when it was crumpled up in one of your fists.

Katsuki stopped dead in his tracks, glaring up from below; his red orbs seemed redder all of a sudden. “Did you just crumple the letter?” 

You pulled your hands back quickly when you realized, strengthening out the paper as best as you could. The creases weren’t that bad. You showed it to him, ensuring that it was still intact. 

He relaxed. You released a held breath. 

Back to concentrating on the handwritten texts, this time, you vowed to not look at him anymore and would just just read through everything as fast as you could—getting it done. Nevertheless, when he was back on eating your pussy and pride out, it did not get easier, Katsuki still managed to make you writhe like your life depended on it. 

“One more thing, I don’t know if you remember, but thank you for—saving me that day in front of the mini mart.” You tried to recall the event, the beginning of everything. “The thief would have—hurt me, and I would have lost—my wallet.” 

And it was just that, just you trying to yank your wallet back from the thief's hands, the popsicle you just bought lying on the ground, melting. The store staff was on the phone with the police—you heard it—but they didn’t come out. Katsuki did. 

When the thief was about to lay his hand on you, the blonde haired boy whom you recognized as your classmate kicked him in the shin. Moving fast, Katsuki then slammed his school backpack on the thief’s head, once, twice, thrice, on and on until he knocked him out. 

“You were my hero.” You read the last sentence, finishing the letter as he finished you.

You set the paper down on your side, finally freed from the evidence of your teenage self’s stupidity. Feeling weightless from the orgasm, all you could do was stare at the ceiling. After what felt like forever, Katsuki appeared in your field of vision, hovering over you, now shirtless… and pantless. You weren’t aware when he took them off, too lost in your own world. 

“You can't just stop loving me,” he said before bending down to kiss your cheek, then whispered, “Take responsibility. Be true to your words, dumbass.” 

“Katsuki, you’re being selfish.” You turned your face away, fleeing him.  

His red eyes sharpened. “After all this time you have showered me with love and attention, and you want to—take it away?” 

“There will be others who love you and give you all the attention you need,” you argued. “I’m not that person.”  

“No! Fucking no! Shut up!” he barked, turning your face back to him and silencing you with a kiss. 

Even with the heater warming up the room, the cold air that seeped through the walls and windows still reached your naked form. After being rid of your sweater, bra, and drenched panties, the only warmth you could find was from Katsuki’s body. And he made sure to share it with you so generously. 

Pain after pain, bite after bite. Katsuki would not stop no matter how desperately you begged him to. Your skin was his canvas, not only your neck, but your cheeks, breasts, belly, arms, thighs, calves; they were tender and hurt to touch. You would have to refrain yourself from looking into the mirror for too long, maybe. Luckily it was winter, this way, nobody would bat an eye if you covered yourself up like it was minus twenty celsius. 

“I’m gonna fuck you raw, okay? Haven’t fucked anyone since you left. You gotta take care of me, princess.” 

“Don’t bullshit me,” you returned. “You fucked that girl.” 

And it still hurt just thinking about it.

“Did not.”

Even so, had he gone mad? He sounded like it. Wearing condoms was the strictest rule of his when it came to sex. As far as you knew, he never broke it once, not for anyone, not for you. But you could be wrong—you didn’t want to—because now, he actually looked eager to go through with it, fucking you bareback.

Too risky, too intimate. 

“You’ll regret it. Please just—think before you act.” 

Trying to reason with Katsuki, you also attempted to move away. Big mistake. Catching you by your thighs, he forced himself closer and wrapped your legs around his waist. Then, he placed his unshielded cock on your folds and pushed it down a bit for the head to slither in, just the tip, nothing more. 

“Katsuki, no!” 

“Katsuki, yes,” he said, mockingly, and shoved it all in.  

—

The bed shook and squeaked annoyingly from how hard he rammed into your tight weeping hole, but the moans you were trying, but not so successfully, to suppress were so adorable he was able to overlook it and focus on you instead. He never knew his bed did this, never brought anyone home to fuck before. 

He almost spilled in the first five minutes, having to slow down to prolong the feeling of being wrapped and rubbed by a pussy, skin to skin. And you—lying there with your brows frowned and tits bouncing—did not help shit. Trying feebly to push him away when he swooped down for a kiss only stirred up his excitement, making him go rougher until you gasped and gave in.

What a soft and tempting little lamb you were. He wanted to brand you with his cum and give you his fucking name, knocking you up with a couple of brats for you and him to take to school and hear a teacher address you as Mrs. Bakugou with his own ears.

Since the day you handed him that letter, you had never been anyone else’s but his. Must have been fate, he didn’t know, didn’t care about a what-if either. His only regret was that he could have had a taste of you sooner, but he would call it a story arc and leave it at that—he had you now anyway. 

“Say my name, princess,” he demanded.

“Kat—suki.”

“Again.”

“Katsuki!”

This was worth it. The tirade of rebuke his mom delivered to his ears and the smacks on the head while saying she never taught him to be like this when he came clean about what he did to you—all was worth it. 

“I’ll get her back, mom,” Katsuki convinced. “We’ll get her back.” 

“You better.” 

It was convenient that his mom already liked you as if you were the one who popped out of her vagina and not him. Well, they were the same in that aspect. Who would have thought it would come to this day, the day he wanted to trap you in his home, when just a decade earlier, he would never have had the slightest idea of granting you the permission to step past the front gate. 

“She’s a good kid,” his mom commented. “The same girl who walked you home and bought you that All Might figure, no?” 

“Yeah.” Katsuki rolled his eyes. 

“Aha.” 

“Will you help me or not?” he asked, irritated. He had been kneeling at her feet for like fifteen minutes. 

“Watch your tone, boy.” Mitsuki’s voice hardened. His dad’s hand over her shoulder rubbed gently to calm her quick temper down. 

“Tch!” 

The tiny mutt chose that moment to strut into the living room, stealing his mom’s attention. She leaned down to pick it up and put it on her lap. It looked down at him, tongue lolling out of its mouth. Conceited little fucker. 

“You know why I named her Katsumi, Katsuki?” 

“Oh, don’t give me that shit.” 

“Katsuki,” his dad said in a reprimanding tone. 

“She reminds me of you, angry for no reason, always bark, bark, bark. It gets lonely around here, so why not.” Mitsuki smiled, scratching her new child’s head. “And you—remind me of her.”

Katsuki squinted his eyes, kinda knew where this was going. 

“A dog, waiting for its owner to come home.” 

She was not wrong. 

“Yes, I will help you, son.” 

A series of bangs on the door broke through the memory and his euphoria. He just came, hard, pouring his pent-up, ripe seeds far up your cunt, and someone wanted to butt in now? Katsuki huffed, but refused to get up and find out who wanted what, dead set on keeping you plugged up. 

Another rapping on the door, then a voice followed. “That’s enough, Katsuki. Let the poor thing out.” 

Of course, it had to be his mom. 

“Go away, hag.” 

“Bakugou Katsuki!” 

“We’ll be out!” 

Just not now. He omitted, and it worked. Mitsuki carried a string of grumbles and footsteps with her, leaving nothing behind. Katsuki turned to you, still under him, in time to see you avert your gaze away. Cute. 

“Can I go now?” you asked. 

“No.” He changed positions, turning over onto his back and getting you on top of him, cock still snug inside your walls. He hoped he didn’t spill a single drop.

“Katsuki, I don’t want to fight anymore.” 

“Then don’t, baby.” 

“I can’t live like this. Please”—you pleaded with your eyes—“don't hurt me anymore.” 

He couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at your frail tone. Looking at you, he saw a woman with dark rings under her eyes, beautiful, but she looked like she had seen better days—a stark contrast to the girl who held out a letter towards him on that spring day, wind in her hair, kindness abundant enough to share. 

Before he knew it, words were out of his mouth. “I wish I had hurt you less.” 

It would not have been possible for him to not hurt you at all. He knew himself well enough to believe otherwise. He also knew, for certain, how he would like the story to go. 

“Do you still love me? Like you wrote in that letter.” he whispered. “Am I still your hero, princess?”

“You don’t”—you gritted your teeth—“have the right to ask me those questions.” 

“I’ll be yours. I want to.” And fuck, he really did, just thinking about it woke his flaccid cock up, rigid again inside of you. Putting his hands on both of your asscheeks, he grinded you up and down. “Do you still love me?”

You kept quiet, unyielding, only small, faint gasps could be heard. 

“Guess that’s not important.” Katsuki decided. “I’ll keep you first—fuck the answer out of you later.”

Panic flashed upon your expression at his declaration, and gasps turned into lustful whimpers when he started slamming your hips up and down his erect shaft.

“How long are you gonna make me wait? A year? A decade? As revenge, maybe?” He took your sweet mouth, hand pressing down the nape of your neck to keep it still. “House will be full of brats by then, but take your time, princess.”

“This will never work out. It won’t. It won’t,” you cried, shutting your eyes tight. “I can’t share you.”

Katsuki didn’t know why, but you not wanting to share him was sexy as shit. The mere thought of sharing you, however, made him want to put something on fire. Was this jealousy people were talking about? It burnt like a bitch. 

“Who said anything about sharing?” he grunted, slapping your jouncing ass, making you squeal. “And this goes both ways, princess. Don’t think I would let anyone touch you.” 

He was pissed just imagining it, which was nowhere near healthy, but who wanted that. He just wanted you, in any way he possibly could. 

“I’m—I’m gonna come,” you spluttered, convulsing around him. 

“That’s it. Come on my cock, baby. Make your man proud.” 

Your velvety walls tightened, constricting his cock and milking it when ropes of cum shot out. 

Sucked dry and spent, Katsuki closed his eyes and tried to rein in his breath. When he reopened them, it was to check if you were still with him—you were, resting on his chest with one cheek against it. Out of cuteness aggression, he pinched the other side.

You let out a short screech. “That hurt!”

The thought of marking you reared its head, biting where it hadn’t been bitten yet, hurting you a little more. But he stifled it, saving it for later. 

Steering himself to another matter, he said, “You never texted me back.”

“I blocked you.” 

“Figured.” Katsuki nodded. 

“Deserved.”

“Unblock me.”

You sighed.

—

The messages wouldn’t go through even if you unblocked him. That was how the application worked, which was fine with him. Scrolling through the one-sided chat, he could sense urgency and desperation through each letter, and some messages actually sounded mental. It would be for the best if you didn’t see them. 

‘Answer’ 

‘i didn’t fuck her, she left. Now fucking answer’ 

‘come back, i wont be mad. where u at.’ 

‘I am still at your apartment, u. didn’t come back. where r u’ 

‘i fucking found your letter. i’ll find u too’ 

“You—kept my present?” 

Katsuki looked up from his phone to your towel-swathed form, fresh out of the shower. Following your line of sight, he was directed to the bottom of the bookshelf where an All Might figure was set—his seventeenth birthday present from you. It was one of his top favorites, but he would never tell you that.

“I’m not stupid enough to throw things I like away, I’ll have you know.” He scowled and went back to scrolling on his phone. 

‘so u moved away huh?’ 

‘need you. don’t wanna fuck my hand anymore :(’ 

‘never mind, bitch’ 

‘u love me huh?’ 

‘Pathetic’ 

‘didnt mean that’ 

‘need u’ 

‘i'm an attention seeking whore who abuses your love to get the validation i want.’

‘sorry’ 

‘there i said it.’ 

‘now come back’ 

Yeah, you didn’t have to know any of that.