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canthelpit0 · 1 month

Text

Intimate

Pairing: Matt x Reader

Wordcount: 2.1k +

In wich: matt has a borderline obsession with cock warming

Warnings: smut, cock warming, p in v, use of y/n, 1st pov, praise kink, name calling (slut), pet names, unprotected, creampie

(A/N: English is not my first language! Also this song has like barely anything to do w the plot, I just feel like that’s the vibe. This is sort of like a blurb. Hope you guys like it <3)

One of the considerably weird things Matt is into is: cock warming.

I clench at the thought trying to focus on my history homework.

I’ve known Matt for practically all my life. We’ve always been close and no conversation between us was ever awkward.

Matt didn’t seem like the type to be into that sort of stuff. But one day, when, we were hanging out and cuddling like we were normally, I felt a hardness at my butt.

When I turned back to look at him he was blushing. Matt had his arms wrapped around my waist, spooning me.

After I asked him what that is, he responded with a question. “Can I..?” He trailed off and I wasn’t catching on to his train of thought.

“What? you want to fuck?” I huff rolling my eyes…not that I would be against it.

“No.” He said defensively squeezing my sides. “Can I just put it in?” Matt asked shyly.

I paused, But eventually complied. With the duvet being over us it shouldn’t be too awkward. He shuffled out of his sweatpants and pulled mine down too.

And before I knew it his finger was inside of me and I was wet.

After a few moments I felt the head of his dick press against me before feeling his entire length slide into me.

I never thought he’d be into that, but even further, I didn’t think that I’d like it too.

I shift feeling the angle change.

“Y/n/n, can you stop moving.” Matt huffs, his words sounding passive aggressive. He puts one of his hands on my hips to prevent as much movement as possible, his other hand still clutching his phone.

I clench again at the tone of his voice, slamming my pen down.

Ever since that day, when this first started off, I started to sit on him more often. Whether it was while we were cuddling or just mindlessly hanging out. We’re not necessarily friends with benefits tho.

I guess he just likes the feeling… but so do I.

It was bad, like we hung out so much Chris and Nick started to make joking remarks about it.

About us hanging out so much that is, not the… whatever we’re doing.

Like it was so bad that practically every time we were alone somewhere private, I was probably sitting on his dick.

It feels so intimate and good, and if we still have time after, he’ll rail me.

But I’m saying that when we’re at home doing homework, I’m sitting on his lap. Or when cuddling or sleepovers. Or even when we go get fast food to eat in the parking lot at night. I’ll climb over the middle console and sit down on it.

I was never a skirt person, but I started to wear skirts more often just for the easier access.

I could go hours just calmly sitting on it.

But sometimes after a while I would get frustrated.

I try to grind into him, Matt still holding me in place as much as he can.

“What? You wanna get yourself off on my dick?” He huffs. His grip on my hip gets harder making me whine, while his other hand still holds his phone.

He’d been scrolling through TikTok and various other social media while I was trying to get all of my homework done.

And it’s been probably over an hour now and I was getting frustrated from all the homework. doing math first was definitely a mistake.

And while on a normal day I would be fine with the intimacy and wouldn’t be trying to get myself off, the homework today was frustrating. And since Matt was already balls deep inside of me, I might as well.

He leans over putting his phone on my desk. With the movement his hand on my hip loosens giving me the opportunity to start to slightly ride him.

“Fuck-“ i sigh. I lean forward on my arms, trying to get as much friction as I can, both on my sweet spot and also my clit.

I hear Matt’s low groan. And suddenly his hands are on my hips again, holding me in place.

“Y/n I swear, i will make you cum over and over again until you’re seeing fucking stars if you don’t fucking stop right now and go back to your homework.”

His tone is authoritative and so hot. Why was he saying that like it would be such a bad thing anyway.

“Matt please.” I whine.

Sometimes Matt would get frustrated and fuck me while I wasn’t even paying him any mind, and sometimes it was the other way around.

He huffs letting go of my hips. Matt leans back as he just watched me and my every move.

I let out a shaky breath once again, leaning forward more to lift myself better.

“Fucking slut, getting yourself off on your best friends dick.” He rolls his eyes in exasperation.

His hands go to my waist, assisting my movements now instead of stopping me.

“If you cum I’m still gonna Make you warm me.” He warns his tone assertive.

Matt holds me in place for a few seconds and scoots the chair back. I sigh leaning forward, using my forearms to prop me up, before starting to ride him again.

His eyes were heavy lidded, his mouth dropped in a silent moan while he watches me.

He somehow seemed way less sensitive than me. But I can literally feel the knot starting to tie In My stomach just waiting to snap.

By this point I was panting and Matt was letting out some heavy breaths too.

“Fuck- Matt, Matt” I whine his name my voice pitching higher as i keep getting closer.

“You close baby?” He breaths out keeping his hands on my hips for stability.

I let out a sharp breath letting my head drop forward as I keep up the angle and speed up in order to reach my climax faster.

“Yeah.” One of my hands go down to my clit to rub it, resulting in my other arm having to hold me up alone.

“Come then.” He demands, his voice sounding cocky. I can hear him breathe heavily and bite his lip to keep quiet.

With his hands tightening on my hips, I feel the knot in my stomach snap.

I let out a loud moan, piercing through the, otherwise, mostly quiet room.

I sit down again my pussy convulsing around his cock.

I sigh, trying to calm down again. Matt’s hands rub my sides, holding my back to his chest and mumbling sweet nothings into my ear.

“You good?” He asks after I mildly catch my breath. I lean more into him, my eyes fluttering closed as I mumble an agreement.

“You gonna go back to your homework now, or…?” He trails off waiting for me to answer.

“No” I breathe out and slightly look over my shoulder to make eye contact with him.

He lets his huge grin take over his features. He picks me up gently, making me wince, to wich he whispers encouraging praises into my ear.

My back makes contact with my bed. I sigh at the feeling of the soft sheets under me. And I watch as Matt hurriedly takes off his shirt.

I was still wearing my mini skirt and a long sleeve shirt, but Matt didn’t look like he was going to take them off. The access was easy, so really, why do the extra work.

Matt rubs my lower stomach, while his other hand holds his dick. He glides it up my folds before slipping it back into me. I whine at the feeling throwing my head back into the mattress.

I’m still sensitive from my previous orgasm and also from the hour of cock warming’s

It wasn’t like he wasn’t sensitive too. I could see him physically hold back from releasing right then and there.

Our eyes stay locked while he starts to rock his hips against me. I can feel him hit that spot in me that makes pure euphoria shoot through my entire body.

Despite not being labeled, it always felt so intimate with Matt.

Maybe it was because most of the time it was literally just cock warming and nothing else. But sometimes, when it did come to the actual intercourse - penetration type of thing, it still felt intimate.

“So good for me baby.” He breaths out. Our eyes stay locked, my mouth dropped in quiet moans.

“Fuck- you like being filled?” He chuckles. His hand stays on my lower abdomen, pressing down slightly to feel himself.

I close my eyes briefly trying to respond, but the way his hips snap into me, and the way he still manages to make this feel sensual, has my head fuzzy.

“Fuck..” Matt breaths out his eyes staying locked on my face. “Too fucked out to answer now?”

All I can do is whine out his name and moan loudly, and he takes pride in that. I know he does. I can see it in his eyes.

“You wanna be fucking full all the time, don’t you baby?” Matt taunts, somehow speeding up even more.

I clench around him my legs going stiff at the constant and heavy stimulation.

Matt notices and readjusts, picking up my legs further so they’re on his shoulders before he picks up pace again.

“Close” I whine out, I can feel the knot in my stomach getting tighter by the second, threatening to snap anytime now.

“Good girl” he hums. Matt’s fingers find their way towards my clit as he starts to vigorously rub it.

“Oh god-“ I moan loudly throwing my head back, my eyes shutting tightly as I try not to get overwhelmed, even tho i already am.

“Eyes on me.” Matt speaks lowly also panting. His movements pick up pace getting more rough and messy, indicating that he’s close too.

My eyes snap open, immediately meeting his. And as soon as they do, I feel my body convulse, my orgasm washing over me like a wave. But despite that, I try to keep my eyes on Matt as best as I can.

“So pretty.” He breathes out harshly and before either of us know it, he gives me one last thrust and fills me up.

I pant, trying to catch my breath. I feel a thin layer of sweat coat my skin, but despite that, I love this feeling.

This post orgasmic state was sending me into almost as much euphoria as the sex itself.

I watch through lazy, heavy-lidded eyes as Matt sits up straighter, moving my legs from off of his shoulders.

“You wanna clean up or sleep like this sweetheart?” He asks tilting his head. Matt was trying to contain a goofy smile.

“Just..” I trail off and let out a breath. Damn I didn’t realize just how out of breath I am.

“Just lay down.” I breathe out.

He licks his lips his eyes wandering from my face to my body and how it’s still clothed.

“You wanna sleep with clothes, or…” he trails off. Matt’s eyes come to meet mine again with a playful glint.

“Matt, I don’t care” I say exasperated.

“I wanna cuddle?” He says like I said we wouldn’t. I huff a slight laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation at hand.

Matt huffs trying and failing to hold back a smile. He gently and slowly pulls out in order to not hurt me. But I still wince from the over stimulation.

He pulls the skirt back down and than reaches for the zipper. He pulls the skirt off tossing it to the floor carelessly.

He then reaches for my long sleeve shirt. I sit up slightly so he can take that, and my bra also off.

Now being nude under him, he looks satisfied. He hums in approval and wordlessly lays down next to me, before I feel his arms go around my waist.

“You think you can warm me, baby?” He whisper sweetly into my ear. I feel a shiver run down my spine from his tone of voice. My eyes shut I take in his silk like words.

“Corse.” I breathe out pushing my hips back into him to tease him.

Matt chuckles lowly. I feel his length slide through my folds. Still being soaked in our combined juices, it was fairly easy for him to slip back in, not that it didn’t make me moan.

I felt way too sensitive, but like hell would I ever say no to this.

Matt chuckles at the low moan I let out. He has his arm spread out so I can lay on it his other arm around my waist. “You do like being full?” He asks in fake shock.

“You were the one that started this tho?” I question right back not moving at all. Simply keeping my eyes closed and enjoying the closeness and intimacy.

“Touché.”

Masterlist

A /N: sorry for being gone for so long guys. Schools been overwhelming. But yeah, I hope you guys liked this. Requests and asks are open & feedback is always appreciated 💕

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

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carriesthewind · 1 year

Text

Oh dear.

So as some of you may know, I love to point and laugh at bad legal arguments. And as fun as legal dumpster fires are when they are made by people who aren’t lawyers but think this whole “law” thing seems pretty simple, it’s even funnier when an actual, barred attorney is the person dumping gallons of kerosene into the dumpster.

And oh boy folks, do I have a fun ride for y’all today. Come with me on this journey, as we watch a lawyer climb into the dumpster and deliberately pour kerosene all over himself, while a judge holds a match over his head.

The court listener link is here, for those who want to grab a few bowls of popcorn and read along.

For those of you who don’t enjoy reading legal briefs for cases you aren’t involved with on your day off (I can’t relate), I will go through the highlights here. I will screenshot and/or paraphrase the relevant portion of the briefs, and include a brief explainer of what’s going on (and why it’s very bad, but also extremely funny). (Also, I’m not going to repeat this throughout the whole write-up, so for the record: any statements I make about how the law or legal system works is referring exclusively to the U.S. (And since this is a federal case, we are even more specifically looking at U.S. federal law.) Also, I don’t know how you could construe any of this to be legal advice, but just in case: none of this is, is intended to be, or should be taken as, legal advice.)

First, let’s get just a quick background on the case, to help us follow along. In brief, this is a civil tort suit for personal injury based on defendant’s (alleged) negligence. The plaintiff is suing the defendant (an airline), because he says that he was injured when a flight attendant struck his knee with a metal cart, and the airline was negligent in letting this happen. The airline filed a motion to dismiss on the grounds that there is an international treaty that imposes a time bar for when these kind of cases can be brought against an airline, and the plaintiff filed this case too many years after the incident.

The fun begins when the plaintiff’s attorney filed an opposition to the motion to dismiss. (So far, a good and normal thing to do.) The opposition argues that the claim is not time-barred because 1) the time bar was tolled by the defendant’s bankruptcy proceedings (that is, the timer for the time limitation was paused when the defendant was in bankruptcy, and started again afterwords), and 2) the treaty’s time limit doesn’t apply to this case because the case was filed in state court before the state statute of limitations expired, and the state court has concurrent jurisdiction over this kind of case.

I’m struggling a bit to succinctly explain the second reason, and there’s a reason for that.

You see, the whole opposition reads a bit…oddly.

This is how the opposition begins its argument, and it’s…weird. The basic principle is...mostly correct here, but the actual standard is that when reviewing a motion to dismiss for failure to state a claim (which is what the defendant filed) the court must draw all reasonable factual inferences in the plaintiff’s favor. But even then, you don’t just put that standard in your opposition. You cite to a case that lays out the standard.

Because that’s how courts and the law work. The courts don’t operate just based on vibes. They follow statutory law (laws made by legislature) and case law (the decisions made by courts interpreting what those laws mean). You don't just submit a filing saying, "here's what the law is," without citing some authority to demonstrate that the law is what you say (or are arguing) it is.

Again, this isn’t wrong (although I'm not sure what it means by new arguments?), but it’s weird! And part of the reason it’s weird is that it is irrelevant to the defendant’s motion to dismiss. The defendant filed a motion stating that based on the facts in the complaint, the plaintiff has not stated a claim based on which relief can be granted, because the complaint is time barred by a treaty. There is no reason for this language to be in the opposition. It’s almost like they just asked a chatbot what the legal standards are for a motion to dismiss for a failure to state a claim, and just copied the answer into their brief without bother to double-check it.

The opposition then cites a bunch of cases which it claims support its position. We will skip them for now, as the defendant will respond to those citations in its reply brief.

The last thing in the brief is the signature of the lawyer who submitted the brief affirming that everything in the brief is true and correct. An extremely normal - required, even! - thing to do. This will surely not cause any problems for him later.

The next relevant filing is the defendant’s reply brief. Again, the existence of a reply brief in response to an opposition is extremely normal. The contents of this brief are…less so.

Beg pardon?

Just to be clear, this is not normal. It is normal to argue that the plaintiff’s cases are not relevant, or they aren’t applicable to this case, or you disagree with the interpretations, or whatever. It is not normal for the cases to appear to not exist.

Some highlights from the brief:

Quick lesson in how to read U.S. case citations! The italicized (or underlined) part at the beginning is the name of the case. If it is a trial court case, the plaintiff is listed first and the defendant second; if the case has been appealed, the person who lost at the lower court level (the petitioner/appellant) will be listed first, and the person who won at the lower level (the respondent/appellee) will be listed second. There are extremely specific rules about which words in these names are abbreviated, and how they are abbreviated. Next, you list the volume number and name of the reporter (the place where the case is published), again abbreviated according to very specific rules, then the page number that the case starts on. If you are citing a case for a specific quote or proposition, you then put a comma after the beginning page number, and list the page number(s) on which the quote or language you are relying on is located (this is called a “pincite”). Finally, you put in parenthesis the name of the court (if needed)(and again, abbreviated according to extremely specific rules) and the year the case was decided.

So the plaintiff’s response cited to Zicherman, which they said was a case from 2008 that was decided by the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals. However, the defendant was not able to find such a case. They were able to find a case with the same name (the same petitioner and respondent), but that case was decided by the U.S. Supreme Court in 1996, and the lower court cases associated with that case weren’t in the 11th circuit either. (The United States Reports is the only official reporter for the U.S. Supreme Court, and only includes SCOTUS decisions, so it’s not necessary to include the name of the court before the year it was decided.)

Just to be clear. The defendant’s brief is saying: the plaintiff cited and extensively quoted from these cases, and neither the cases nor the quotations appear to exist. These “cases” were not ancillary citations in the plaintiff’s brief. They were the authority it relied upon to make its arguments.

This is as close a lawyer can come, at this point in the proceedings, to saying, “opposing counsel made up a bunch of fake cases to lie to the court and pretend the law is something different than it is.”

That, “Putting aside that here is no page 598 in Kaiser Steel,” is delightfully petty lawyer speak for, “you are wrong on every possible thing there is to be wrong about.”

By page 5, the defendant has resorted to just listing all of the (apparently) made up cases in a footnote:

(skipping the citations to support this proposition)

This is where I return to my struggle to explain the opposition’s second reason why the motion to dismiss should not be granted. I struggled to explain the argument, because they failed to explain why the argument they were making (that plaintiffs can bring lawsuits against airlines in state court, and the state court have specific statutes of limitations for general negligence claims) was relevant to the question of whether the plaintiff’s specific claim against the airline was time barred by the treaty. Because 1) this case is in federal court, not state court, and 2) federal law - including treaties - preempts state law. Again, it’s almost like plaintiff’s attorney just typed a question about the time bar into a chatbot or something, and the machine, which wasn’t able to reason or actually analyze the issues, saw a question about the time to bring a lawsuit and just wrote up an answer about the statute of limitations.

We also end with a nice little lawyerly version of “you fucked up and we are going to destroy you.” The relief requested in the defendant’s original motion to dismiss was:

In their reply to the opposition, however:

“The circumstances” in this case, being the apparent fabrication of entire cases. Because courts tend to take that pretty seriously.

And the court took it seriously indeed. The defendant’s reply was docketed on March 15th of this year. On April 11th:

AKA: you have one week (an extremely prompt time frame for federal court) to prove to me that you didn’t just make up these cases.

On April 12th, the plaintiff’s attorney requests more time because he’s on vacation:

The judge grants the motion, but adds in another case that he forgot to include in his first order.

On April 25th, the plaintiff’s attorney files the following:

(And he lists the cases, with one exception, which he says is an unpublished decision.)

But he says of all of the cases except two, that the opinions…

Which is…nonsense?

First of all: if you cited a case, you had to get it from somewhere. Even unpublished opinions, if you are citing them in a brief, you are citing them because you pulled them off of westlaw or whatever. Which means you have access to the case and can annex it for the court. (There are even formal rules for how you cite unpublished opinions! And those rules include citing to where you pulled the damn case from!)

Secondly: remember that long digression I went into about how to read case citations? Remember that bit about how you include the name of the reporter (the place the case was published)? Yes, cases are published. They are printed in physical books, and they are published online in databases (e.g. lexis or westlaw). If the specific online database you are looking in does not have the case, you look somewhere else. If you have a judge telling you to get them a copy of the case Or Else, you track down a physical copy of the reporter if you need to and scan the damn thing yourself. You - literally - can’t just not have a copy of the case! (Especially published federal circuit court opinions, which multiple of these cases are! Those aren’t hard to find!)

And what kind of “online database” doesn’t include the entire opinion anyway? I’ve literally never heard of a case research database that only included partial opinions, because that wouldn’t be useful.

Maybe if we look at the attached annexed copies of the cases, that might give us some answers.

...

My friends, these things are just bizarre. With two exceptions, they aren’t submitted in any sort of conventional format. Even if you’ve never seen a legal opinion before, I think you can see the difference if you just glance through the filings. They are located at Docket entry #29 on Court Listener (April 25, 2023). Compare Attachments 6 and 8 (the real cases submitted in conventional format) to the other cases. Turning to the contents of the cases:

In the first one, the factual background is that a passenger sued an airline, then the airline filed a motion to dismiss (on grounds unrelated to the treaty's time bar), then the airline went into bankruptcy, then the airline won the motion to dismiss, then the passenger appealed. And the court is now considering that appeal. But then the opinion starts talking about how the passenger was in arbitration, and it seems to be treating the passenger like he is the one who filed for bankruptcy? It’s hallucinatory, even before you get to the legal arguments. The “Court of Appeals” is making a ruling overruling the district court’s dismissal based on the time bar, but according to the factual background, the case wasn’t dismissed based on the time bar, but on entirely other grounds? Was there some other proceeding where the claim was dismissed as time barred, and it’s just not mentioned in the factual background? How? Why? What is happening? Also it says Congress enacted the treaty? But, no? That’s…that’s not how treaties work? I mean, Congress did ratify the treaty? But they didn’t unilaterally make it!

In the second case, there’s an extended discussion of which treaty applies to the appellants claims, which is bizarre because there are two relevant treaties, and one replaced the other before the conduct at issue, so only the new treaty applies? There isn’t any discussion of the issue beyond that basic principle, so there is no reason there should be multiple paragraphs in the opinion explaining it over and over? Also, it keeps referring to the appellant as the plaintiff, for some reason? And it includes this absolutely hallucinatory sentence:

…the only part this that makes sense is that the argument is without merit. I’m not going to discuss the actual merits of the legal arguments in the opinion, because they are so bizarre and disjointed that even trying to describe them would require a Pepe Silvia-sized conspiracy board. Like the previous case, both the facts and the legal posture of the case change constantly, with seemingly no rhyme or reason.

The third one…oh boy. First, large portions of the “opinion” are individual paragraphs with quotations around the whole paragraph. What’s happening there? As far as the content of the opinion itself - I can’t. I mean that, I literally can’t. What is being discussed seems to change from paragraph to paragraph, much of it contradicting. It makes the first case seem linear and rational by comparison. The court finds it doesn’t have personal jurisdiction over the defendant so dismisses the case based on a lack of subject matter jurisdiction? But also the defendant hasn’t contested jurisdiction? And also the court does hold that it has both subject matter and personal jurisdiction over the defendant? And then it denies the motion to dismiss the case? Also, at one point it cites itself?

…also, even if this was a real case, it doesn’t stand for the propositions the plaintiff cited it for in their opposition? I’m not going to go into the weeds (honestly it’s so hallucinatory I’m not sure I could if I tried), but, for example, the plaintiff’s reply brief states that the court held “that the plaintiff was not required to bring their claim in federal court.” The U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia is a federal court, and there is no discussion of any filings in state courts. The closest the “opinion” comes is with the statement, “Therefore, Petersen’s argument that the state courts of Washington have concurrent jurisdiction is unavailing.” (This statement appears to be completely disconnected from anything before or after it, so I am unsure what it is supposed to mean.)

Moving on, case number four is allegedly a decision by the Court of Appeals of Texas. It includes the following line:

Honestly, the plaintiff’s attorney best defense at this point is that he wasn’t intentionally trying to mislead the court, because if he was doing this on purpose, he would have edited the cases to make them slightly more believable. (Context in case you’ve lost track: these documents are supposed to be copies of the opinions he is citing. The screenshoted line makes it clear that what he is actually citing is, at best, someone else’s summary of an "opinion". It would be like if a teacher asked a student to photocopy a chapter of a book and bring it into class, and instead the student brought in a copy of the cliffs notes summary of that chapter. Except that the book doesn’t even exist.)

The actual contents of the “opinion” are, as is now standard, absolutely bonkers. First, the court decides that it doesn’t have personal jurisdiction over Delta because “Delta did not purposefully avail itself of the benefits of conducting business in Texas.” This was despite the fact that the factual background already included that the appellant (sorry, the plaintiff, according to the “opinion”) flew on a Delta flight originating in Texas. Like, this is just wrong? It’s not even hallucinatory nonsense, it’s just facially incorrect legal analysis. Then the court starts discussing the treaty’s time bar, for some reason? Then it goes back to talking about personal jurisdiction, but now the trial court denied the defendant’s motion to dismiss for lack of personal jurisdiction, and the appellate court agrees with the trial court that it does have personal jurisdiction, even though this is the plaintiff’s appeal from the dismissal for lack of personal jurisdiction and the court already ruled it didn’t have personal jurisdiction? And even though on page 1, the plaintiff was injured during a flight from Texas to California, now on page 7 she was injured on a flight from Shanghai to Texas? Also the trial court has gone back in time (again) to grant the motion to dismiss that it previously denied?

Also, I’ve been trying to avoid pointing out the wonky text of these submissions, but:

Everything ok there?

Case number five is similar enough to number four that it’s not worth repeating myself.

Thank god, cases six and eight, as noted above, are real cases, so I’m going to skip them. The defendant alleges that the cases do not stand for the propositions the plaintiff cited them for, and I’m going to assume that is true, given the rest of this nonsense.

Case number seven looks legitimate on the surface. But neither the defendant nor I could find the case through any legitimate search mechanisms. The defendant looked up the purported docket numbers on PACER and found completely different cases; I was able to find a case with the name “Miller v. United Airlines, Inc.,” but it was for a different Ms. Miller, it was a California state case (not a Second Circuit federal case), it was decided on a different year, and the substance of the case was entirely different from the alleged opinion filed with the court.

On top of that, this might be the most morally reprehensible fake citation of them all? Because it is about the crash of United Airlines Flight 585, a real plane crash. Everyone on board - 25 people in total - was killed.

The individual cited in this fake court case was not one of them.

I cannot imagine conducting myself in such a way where I would have to explain to a judge that I made up a fake case exploiting a real tragedy because I couldn’t be bothered to do actual legal research.

Now, I know you all have figured out what’s going on by now. And I want you to know that if your instincts are saying, “it seems like the lawyer should have just fallen on his sword and confessed that he relied on ChatGPT to write his original brief, rather than digging himself further into this hole”? Your instincts are absolutely correct.

Because obviously, the court was having none of this b.s. On May 4th, the court issued an order, beginning with the following sentence:

That is one of the worst possible opening sentences you can see in an order by the court in a situation like this. The only thing worse is when judges start quoting classic literature. If I was Mr. Peter LoDuca, counsel for the plaintiff, I would already be shitting my pants.

“I gave you an opportunity to either clear things up or come clean. Now I’m going to give you an opportunity to show why I should only come down on you like a pile of brinks, instead of a whole building.”

We are getting dangerously close to “quoting classic lit” territory here.

If I learned that the judge in my case called up the clerk of a circuit court just to confirm how full of shit I was, I would leave the legal profession forever. Also, the judge is now also putting quotes around “opinion.” When judges start getting openly sarcastic in their briefs, that means very very bad things are about to happen to someone.

So I’m guessing the delay between this filing and the court order was because the judge’s clerk was tasked with running down every single one of the additional fake citations included in the "opinions", just to make this sure this order (and the upcoming pile of bricks) are as thorough as possible.

If you are following along with Dracula Daily, the vibe here is roughly the same as the May 19th entry where Dracula demands Jonathan Harker write and pre-date letters stating he has left the castle and is on the way home.

Also, hey, what’s that footnote?

Wait, what?

Folks, it appears we may have notary fraud, on top of everything else! Anybody have bingo?

So on May 25, one day before the deadline, Mr. LoDuca filed his response. And oh boy, I hope ya’ll are ready for this.

Hey, what’s the name of that other attorney, “Steven Schwartz”? Where have I seen that name before…

...I ran out of room for images on this post. So I'm going to have to leave this as an accidental cliffhanger. Part 2 to follow once I refresh my tea.

#ai bs #2 Stupid 2 Sanction

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charliemwrites · 5 months

Text

Part 4 of Mafia!Price

No Content Warnings

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

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Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia!au #mafia boss price #assistant reader

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andypantsx3 · 8 months

Text

DEAD RECKONING : TODOROKI TOUYA x READER

SUMMARY: A makeup artist at a haunted maze, all you want to do is make it to the end of the season with a little extra cash in your pocket and no murder convictions on your record. Scare actor Todoroki Touya makes that last part a challenge. (7.8k) CONTENT & WARNINGS: no quirks au, halloween, enemies to lovers, fem + afab reader, slight scumbag touya, haunted maze workers, smut, semi-public sex, smoking, heavy swearing, touya likes having his hair pulled + girls who are a little mean to him, sort of good girl vs bad boy vibes, 18+ minors please dni NOTES: Happy Halloween from me!! This fic is part of the Willow's Haunted House collab. Dedicated to cat-slippered and ofmermaidstories, for workshopping what eventually became this fic with me about a thousand years ago. I’m sorry I turned Bakugou into Dabi. And I’m sorry for dedicating the now Dabi fic to you. But not sorry enough to not have done it. Love you. :)

If there was one thing you hated about Halloween, it was Todoroki Touya.

Shockingly, this was not a commonly-held sentiment, which was the only reason there even was a recurrence of Todoroki Touya darkening your Halloween seasons in the first place.

For the last three years, you’d spent your fall semester working as a makeup artist at the Musutafu haunted maze alongside a slew of other college and local kids looking to make a little extra cash. The hours were fairly flexible, and the wage covered your textbooks, with a little left over to keep you in the occasional coffee between lectures.

But your wages did not nearly cover the amount of psychic damage you had been dealt, managing Todoroki Touya’s obnoxious, sarcastic, chain-smoking ass day after day for seasons on end.

On lucky days, someone else was on Touya duty. But on unlucky ones, you found him sprawling in the plastic makeup chair opposite you, those intense blue eyes tracking you with no small amount of pleasure, like he was this afternoon.

You stopped in the doorway, a curse slipping out of you. You’d been hoping that you’d get lucky today, as the day was otherwise an excellent one. You’d invited a group of friends to do the maze with you after you got off shift, and you had been looking forward to it all week.

But it figured Touya could never let you have too good of a time.

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he drawled over the noise of displeasure that escaped you. He was at least already dressed in costume, so he wouldn’t go smearing his makeup as he pulled it on, a tumble of stitches and frayed edges that had once been a dark-blue duster, but now just mostly gaped open to show the hard planes of his chest.

“I’m so sure,” you told him, averting your eyes from his pecs. You sighed, resigning yourself to his presence, and made your way in, dumping your bag on the staff room couch.

“This is a very hostile work environment you’re creating,” Touya rasped, his grin sharp. Years of chain-smoking outside the maze had left his voice even lower and raspier than when you’d first met him three years ago.

“Don’t worry, it can always get more hostile,” you told him, affecting your own sweet grin as you moved over to the vanity, digging through all the makeup and prosthetics for the ones he’d need.

Touya himself was severely scarred, which was likely why he’d applied to work at the haunted maze in the first place. You’d never asked him about his scars, but you’d heard enough gossip from the other maze workers to know that they were the product of a childhood accident, involving the burning down of his father’s—the then-and-current mayor’s—house.

He’d accentuated them with a shit load of facial piercings, and was sort of off-putting to look at the first time you caught a glimpse of him. The issue was that, once your eyes made sense of what they were seeing, he was infuriatingly handsome.

You’d heard he’d initially been unleashed on the maze with no makeup or prosthetics, and within the first evening was causing line backups, with all the parties of teen girls who were taking a little too much time lingering around his section of the maze.

So now he was subjected to prosthetics to make him uglier, a fact that he seemed to absolutely relish.

You dug out the monster prosthetic pack that gave him jutting forehead ridges. “Let’s make the outside reflect the inside, shall we,” you told him as you flapped the rubbery pieces at him, smirking your own little smirk.

Touya’s answering grin was wicked, and he relaxed back in his seat, sprawling his legs out wide in that infuriating way men had. “Think my outside is too pretty then, huh?” he asked, sapphire eyes flickering over you.

Your face went hot in a weird combination of anger and embarrassment. “I try not to think of your outside,” you told him pertly, making sure to slap the forehead piece onto him hard enough to make a splat noise.

His mouth twitched again but he let you go to work, gluing the pieces down against his face, careful not to press them to the seams of any of his scars. He was tall enough even lounging in his seat that you only had to lean over a little to focus clearly on his face, all long legs and rangy muscle.

This close, he always smelled like cigarette smoke, with an undercurrent of something rich and dark, like cinnamon or chocolate. You could never put your finger on it, but you were not about to go sniffing him at any length to figure it out, even if it was annoyingly appealing.

He’d probably love that, and would absolutely never let you live it down.

Touya’s eyes tracked you closely as you worked, but otherwise his expression was still, and you thought not for the first time that it really was too bad he was so obnoxious. He was actually quite handsome, with a soft, sensuous mouth, a blade-straight nose, and vivid blue eyes that all but glowed like the embers of a crackling fire when he was provoking you.

It was a shame he wasted all his beauty being the most annoying man on earth.

You’d heard from the other maze workers that he was relatively well-known around the area, having spent his teen years doing petty criminal shit to destabilize his father’s reelection campaigns, netting himself several jail stays and a record a mile long. He’d settled somewhat since he’d gotten a job at a piercing parlor downtown and several side gigs like the maze, but people weren’t fully convinced he’d abandoned his old ways, and he still clearly relished any opportunity to discomfort and destabilize anyone who got on his bad side.

Apparently including you.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard, sweetheart,” Touya said, those cerulean eyes blinking up at you.

You realized you’d paused over him, midway through blending his prosthetic forehead in, and another annoying little smirk rode his mouth.

You took care to roll your eyes at him, gesturing at him with your brush. “I know several places I can stick this if you’re not careful.”

Touya’s smirk melted into an unholy grin. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he rasped, eyes glittering up at you.

You went back to work on him with a little more force than necessary, blending hard enough that you saw his broad shoulders shift in an effort to keep his neck braced. “I doubt any time with you could be classed as good,” you said pertly, giving a final few brushes before stepping back, satisfied with your work.

The forehead made him look unhinged as he offered another smirk, leaning forward. “True—the feedback I usually get is ‘incredible’, ‘mind-blowing’, ‘earth-shattering’, ‘toe-curling’, ‘scream-inducing’—”

“Oh I’ll scream if you keep talking,” you said hotly, even as your cheeks warmed. Even with the stupid fucking forehead he was annoyingly handsome. You needed him a thousand million miles away from you before you herniated something, jumping back and forth between annoyance and attraction.

Maybe it was time to stop signing up to work here.

“Now get out of my room, I have other people waiting,” you commanded, thankful when you heard the scuff of a boot at the door confirming another maze worker waiting.

Touya didn’t look at all chastened, but he unfolded himself from the chair in an unfurling of broad shoulders and long legs. He leaned in close as he passed, voice dipping low. “See you later, sweetheart,” he said, a smile curling his mouth.

Annoyingly, his proximity crossed a bunch of the wires in your brain, and you fumbled before managing, “Not if we’re both lucky.”

“Stop, I’ll blush,” he drawled, another unholy grin splitting his cheeks before he saluted two fingers at you and ducked out of the room. The scent of smoke and cinnamon followed him, and you let out a sigh of relief, the air and your brain clearer now that he was gone.

No sooner were you free of him, however, than another problem was immediately introduced.

“So…he actually talks to you?” The other maze worker’s head poked through the door, her eyes resting on you intently. You recognized her as a local highschooler who’d just joined this season, who usually ended up getting in early enough to get her makeup done by the other artist.

You blinked. “I…unfortunately?” you answered, confused.

She stepped into the room, and you reflexively gestured her over to the chair that Touya had just abandoned.

She hummed as she took her seat, eyeing you curiously. “Wow. How’d you get him to do that? He doesn’t really talk to any of us,” she informed you.

You could feel your eyebrows lift towards your hairline. “He…doesn’t…?”

She shook her head, her pretty golden ringlets swaying with the motion. “He’ll chainsmoke with Tomura and he sometimes talks to Himiko. But the other girls—they say he just laughs and walks away if they try to chat with him.”

Well. That sounded rude enough to be true to form, you thought. But when Touya was in your makeup chair you couldn’t get him to shut the hell up. You shifted, uncomfortable with the idea that Touya had any special soft spot for you. Maybe, like a cat, he could sense who didn’t much like him and decided to latch on out of spite.

“You might be a little young for him,” you decided, going over to the vanity and digging out the prosthetics she’d need—a witch chin and a raised gorey slash that would open along one cheekbone.

“No—it’s all the other girls too. And most of the guys,” she told you. “He must like you.”

A laugh escaped you, and you turned back to her with the prosthetics in hand, a few new brushes and a white, cakey paint palette shoved beneath your elbow.

“I don’t think he likes anyone,” you told her, setting everything down and applying the tacky glue to the underside of her chin prosthetic. “I think he just likes to inflict himself on people he knows it will annoy. You could act disinterested in talking to him and he’d probably come flitting right over.” The image of Touya suffering at the hands of a league of flirty high school girls pleased you—better they suck up his time and energy than you.

“I don’t know,” the girl said uncertainly. “Maybe he likes you.” But she was forced to leave it at that once you started applying her chin, making it difficult for her to speak.

You certainly didn’t think that was the case.

But the seeds of doubt had already been sown, a question that you thought would probably haunt your evening now that it had been formed. Just why did Touya talk to you if he was so standoffish with other people? And what did it mean that he made such a point of it?

You knew for sure it wasn’t because he liked you, his obnoxious manner said that well enough. But why did you get treatment that was significant enough that even the other maze workers would comment on it?

And, perhaps even more concerningly, why did the thought agitate you so much?

You decided to try your best not to think about it, and have a good time with your friends once they got there, putting Touya out of your mind. You returned to doing the girl’s makeup with vigor, suddenly as eager to get her out of your chair as you had been Touya.

She was finished in record time and she thanked you, carefully not to smile too widely lest she dislodge the prosthetics. You took in the next person waiting as she left, slowly working your way through the line of people as the hour drew ever closer to the maze’s evening opening time.

Eventually you finished up and collected your things, making your way out front to find your friends already waiting for you. They’d clearly dressed with the intent to go out after—something you hadn’t considered—their dresses short and slinky and their makeup smoky. You’d have liked to have joined, but you were still in the sweater and leggings you’d come straight from lectures in.

Maybe you would have time to go home and change after the maze.

You were scooped up into several hugs, breathing in the sweet scents of various perfumes, and informed that you absolutely did have to go home and get changed after so you could come out and get “Hallowasted!” too.

“Okay if I’m not busy peeing my pants, which monsters are the ones you did?” your roommate asked, dancing around to warm herself in the cool fall air. “I wanna see ‘em.”

You named several of your creations, conveniently leaving off Touya. You knew that if your friends took too close a look at him and figured out what he looked like under the cakey makeup and forehead prosthetic, they’d never leave the maze. You knew he sat somewhere around the end of the set up, in an alcove that had been decorated to look like an abandoned village with burned out cabins, a mess of bones dotting the ground at the side of the walkway.

You were also hoping you could pass unnoticed in the group of your friends, as there was no doubt in your mind that Touya would take special care to annoy you in particular. So you did not want your group to linger long enough for your friends to scope him out.

You would know it was him under the makeup you’d done yourself, but being cornered somewhere in the dark with the soundtrack of screams echoing in your ears would not exactly have you feeling your boldest.

Your group had dinner at the food trucks parked out front, chatting and laughing and waiting for the crowds to die down, each indulging in one drink for bravery before joining the line. Eventually you ended up at the front of the queue, late in the evening, your friends crowding in behind you, whispering nervously.

“You first,” your roommate hissed when you looked back at them questioningly. “You work here, you have to do the honors.”

You sighed, accepting your fate, making a mental note to subtly shift to the back of the pack as you made it further into the maze.

Then you were being greeted by Shigaraki Tomura, whose makeup you’d done last. He’d been given layers of prosthetic peeling skin and a scar at his mouth, and he was decorated with a layer of disembodied hands gripping him all over. He shredded your tickets, looking unenthused.

“Remember that inside the maze, none of the monsters can touch you,” he recited dully. “You are not permitted to touch them in return; do not hit, kick, push, bite, slap, lick, scratch, or otherwise assault the actors. Don’t tamper with the props, do not leave items behind. Be respectful of other guests and do not linger too long in the rooms. If you need to leave for any reason, every room or alcove has clearly-lit exits marked in red.”

His eyes briefly met yours as he waved you through, and you thought you saw a pale brow go up.

But then you were being shoved forward by your friends, several hands clinging to your arms and the back of your shirt, and you stepped forward into the dark of the hall.

The maze truly was a labyrinth—it started indoors in a pitch black room, with fake body bags hanging from the ceiling. Toga Himiko, a highschooler whose makeup you usually did, stalked you around the edges of the room, dressed in a torn school uniform with fangs peeking out of her widely grinning mouth, and a dripping knife clutched eagerly in her fingers.

Once you made it past her, the maze spilled outdoors, into a tangle of hedges and artificially-constructed set, steering you in twisting loops around the property.

You were pleased with how terrifying all the actors looked, even having done most of their prosthetics yourself, and found your heart racing as you took every new corner, found yourself freezing up and stumbling back whenever someone jumped out at you, suppressing a shriek.

Your friends participated with gusto, shrieking and ducking away from the monsters, holding you like a human shield between them and the maze workers. You would have been insulted if it hadn’t been so funny.

You made it through most of the maze with little trouble, passing through a haunted swamp, a graveyard with mummies twisting and screaming in their bindings, grasping for you. You stumbled past a man wielding a chainsaw and a set of clowns waving axes, making it through in record time thanks to the push of your frantic friends behind you.

It was only on the last leg of the maze that you finally ran into Touya.

You peered around the corner, recognizing the set up instantly. The burned out houses flickered with blue flame, lighting up the set in an eerie, unsettling sapphire light. The fake bones on the ground sat in piles of ash, glowing stark white in the light. You couldn’t spot Touya anywhere, and you slowly crept forward, trying to shepherd your friends in front of you.

You even almost thought you had been successful, until a rasping voice drawled behind you, “Hello sweetheart.”

And then your roommate screamed, bolting forward, knocking into you and sending you stumbling over a pile of the fake bones. You landed hard on your ass in the patchy grass, the wind punching out of you.

“Oh fuck—” you heard one of your friends say as she too was steamrolled, and you watched the group of them trip over one another in their desperation to get through the alcove, dissolving into chaos in a matter of seconds.

You quickly tried to get to your feet to follow, but a hiss forced its way through your teeth when you tried your ankle, a wave of sharp pain washing over you.

Oh fuck. Not good.

The tread of a boot in the grass next to you made you jump, and your head whipped up to catch sight of Touya crouching over you.

“You good down there?” he asked. His eyes glinted in the dark of the maze, and the blue light cast shadows over his features, twisting them in the dim. Your heartbeat picked up, even as your brain recognized him for who he was.

You cringed, embarrassed that you’d had to hurt yourself in his part of the maze specifically. It figured.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, trying to climb to your feet again. Your ankle twinged in protest, and Touya must have caught the flash of pain on your face because then his hand was under your elbow, supporting you as you rose in an unexpected show of courtesy.

Although he broke the illusion immediately when he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah you look real fine,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. With the prosthetic forehead it made him look sort of demented.

“Well I’ll be fine,” you insisted, even as those blue eyes flickered over you assessingly. His fingers tightened a little on your arm before he bent down, tapping his other hand on your leg.

“Which leg, sweetheart?” he asked. “And where?”

It took you a minute to catch up to what he was asking, confused at seeing him on his haunches before you. A scream went up in the background, some terrified maze goer, and a little shiver went down your spine.

“Uh, the left ankle,” you supplied, startling when Touya’s fingers slid underneath the cuff of your legging over the aforementioned ankle, rolling it up gently. You blinked, surprised at the careful touch.

“Can’t see too well in the dark,” he announced. “But it looks like you ripped it open on something.” He peered back up at you. “Think it’s sprained?”

You shook your head. “Probably just rolled. It hurts but not like go-to-the-hospital level,” you said. “Just give me a minute, I’ll be good.”

Touya considered you for a moment, then got to his feet, moving closer. That scent of smoke and cinnamon drifted over to you, and he bent his head to look into your face.

“Much as you’re the most terrifying thing in this maze, I don’t think people are gonna wanna see you here,” he told you, a smirk cutting into his mouth. “Would ruin the experience. So we’re gonna have to get you out of here.”

You scowled up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Well no thanks for the concern, then. “I’m going, I’m going, keep your shirt on,” you told him, preemptively gritting your teeth before readying yourself to take another step.

But before you could, one of Touya’s hands was suddenly sliding under your knees, his other slipping behind your shoulder. In the next second the burning buildings were swinging wildly in front of your eyes, and then you were being hefted up into Touya’s arms. You let out a startled yelp, your own hands shooting out to grab his jacket, giving him a wild-eyed look.

“Touya—!” you garbled out, as a smile pulled at his expression.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he told you, looking a little too smug about the situation he’d just put you in. He strode towards the exit, kicking the door open with a heavy boot, carrying you down the hall and back into the building. He was hard with wiry muscle underneath you, and so deliciously warm against you. Your ears went hot with every sure, easy step he took, like carrying you was little effort for him.

Thankfully it was barely a minute before you reached the staff room, where Touya laid you out gently on the couch, much more carefully than you might have expected from him.

Your cheeks and your nose burned, flaming even hotter when he squatted down in front of you and took your ankle in his hand again.

His dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he took note of your injury. In the light you could definitely see that you’d caught your ankle bone on one of the fake bones you’d tripped over, as there was a long gash up the side of it, but nothing else looked bruised or otherwise concerning. You thought you’d probably be fine in a couple hours, just a roll.

It was definitely nothing Touya had needed to princess carry you through the staff halls for!

“Don’t move,” Touya told you, and you watched, bewildered, as he stepped away, stalking over to the other side of the room where the staff lockers were. He dug out a shabby backpack, pulling something out of it, and then returned to your side, spreading out his haul on the couch next to you.

You noted a little tube of rubbing alcohol, an antiseptic cream and a bandage, as well as an ice pack. One of your eyebrows went up.

“You rob a hospital or something?” you asked reflexively, heart fluttering a little bit weirdly when Touya’s eyes flickered back up to yours. His eyelashes were long and thick, startlingly pretty.

“Nah,” he said, his gaze cutting suddenly away from yours. “Usually keep shit on hand for my burns.”

Your stomach flipped, and you realized how rude your question had been. Embarrassment welled up in a hard lump in your throat. Well shit. “Oh—fuck. Of course. I’m sorry, Touya.”

A pinch to your leg had you yelping, and his handsome face was serious when he stared back up at you, his eyes practically glowing with intensity. “I don’t need your sympathy.”

You rolled your eyes, rubbing the skin he’d pinched absentmindedly. “It wasn’t sympathy, asshole,” you said. “It was an apology for being thoughtless. Although if that’s how you’re gonna be then I take it back, geez. As if you need sympathy when every girl in this maze—” you froze, clamping your mouth shut when you realized what you’d been about to say. “Uhhhh.”

Touya’s eyes slowly slid down your face, flickering over you as another fucking obnoxious smirk started to twitch at the side of his mouth. “When every girl in this maze what?” he asked, pleasure turning his tone a little silky.

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to grab the rubbing alcohol off of the couch so you didn’t have to look at him. “When every girl in this maze would like for you to shut up and stop asking questions,” you said, unscrewing the top with a deliberate focus.

Calloused fingers came up to yank the tube out of your grip, however, and Touya leaned in, his grin sharp and white.

“Lemme do it, sweetheart. Return the favor for my prosthetic,” he said. You winced, remembering how forcefully you’d applied his forehead earlier. As you braced yourself, however, his fingers brushed gently over your skin.

You suppressed a shiver at the feeling of him wiping off the blood with the rubbing alcohol, then going over it with the antibiotic cream, smearing it delicately, your nose going hot again. He took his time, careful to cover every inch, kneeling on the ground in front of you with your ankle clutched in one large hand. His duster fanned out behind him, dragging on the ground as he bent over you, but he didn’t seem to care, too absorbed in his task.

When he was done he carefully applied the bandage too, and you looked on, mystified, as he cracked the ice pack with long, strangely elegant fingers, and pressed it over your ankle bone as well.

His eyes flicked back to yours when you let out a short hiss, feeling the zing of the ice all the way in your teeth. Some of his expression looked squashed, given the obstruction of his prosthetic, but you thought he looked maybe just a little bit concerned, before he realized you were just being a baby. You were suddenly overcome with the urge to rip off his prosthetic so you could see his expression in full, and had to pin your arm to your side to stop yourself.

“This was—unexpected,” you admitted, watching him closely. “You’re…a surprisingly good nurse, Touya. Thank you.”

His answering smile was nothing short of wicked. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

You fumbled with the antiseptic and sniffed pointedly, just to have something to complain about. “Well. Your bedside manner could use some work.”

Touya leaned in, his smile suddenly going dark. “Oh, angel, now that’s not what I’ve been told—”

Your palm shot out to cover his mouth, horror overriding your normal brain function. Touya just laughed into the skin of your hand, however, shockingly boyish and sweet-sounding.

You pressed harder, hissing at him to shut the hell up, until you registered the feeling of dry, raised skin under your fingers. You jumped, realizing you were pressing down on his scars.

“Shit, did I hurt you—?” you asked, yanking your hand back, only for Touya to catch your wrist. He blinked, looking surprised that he had.

“No it’s—you didn’t—” he said. His fingers shifted over yours and his eyes darted over your hand in something like shock. “They get dry and pull but they don’t—it wasn’t that.” He sounded annoyed, but not that you’d touched him. That you’d pulled away from touching him.

Somehow, that settled you. Before you understood what exactly was possessing you, you reached back in, satisfied when Touya let you. The pads of your fingers met the edge of a scar again, feeling along the seam. You carefully traced over it the way Touya’s had just traced the cut on your ankle.

Touya’s eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a slow breath. “You don’t need to touch ‘em, sweetheart,” he said finally.

He said it as lightly as he’d said all his earlier nonsense, but he’d been giving you shit for long enough that you recognized there was something deliberate about the ease of his tone this time. This wasn’t his usual, natural timbre.

“Does it bother you?” you asked.

It seemed to take him a minute to decide.

“...No,” he answered, those cerulean eyes catching on yours again. You felt like you could feel your heartbeat in your own fingers, and your skin prickled with something—annoyingly not annoyance.

“Well then shut up,” you told him. “Or I’ll pinch you right on the seam.”

Touya laughed, a slow rolling sound. “Promises promises,” he said, but he seemed more relaxed.

You felt along the contours of his face, mystified by what the hell you thought you were even doing, until you reached the edge of the prosthetic you’d applied. It only took a second for you to give in to the impulse you’d had earlier and start peeling it from his skin, slow and deliberate.

You reached down and helped yourself to the rubbing alcohol, applying it around the prosthetic, letting it dissolve the adhesive before pulling gently. Shockingly, Touya let you do it. He just sat there, watching you with an intensity you’d never experienced before, hardly blinking.

You kept careful track of the prosthetic, unable to look him in the eye, focusing on rubbing off the makeup you’d used to blend it in for good measure. You tried not to examine the weirdly satisfied feeling that settled in your stomach when his natural face was visible to you again.

It was probably just his looks. He really was so handsome for such a grating personality.

You set the prosthetic aside, lost on where to go from here. Touya probably thought you were so fucking weird for just like, rubbing his face like he was some kind of cat. He certainly looked like he had no idea what to do now, which was such a departure from his usually snotty self-assurance that it threw you for an even bigger loop.

“Always thought you’d be a little rougher with me, sweetheart,” Touya finally managed, flashing you a smirk. It looked a little smaller than usual though, like he was drawing it up like a shield, but your hackles raised instantly, like always.

You always, always responded to him.

“Trust me, that can be arranged,” you promised darkly, trying to crack your knuckles. Only one of them crackled obligingly, however, and Touya blinked, before laughing again.

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning in closer. Cigarette smoke and cinnamon clouded your senses, fogging up your brain. “Gonna fuck me up nice and good, sweetheart?”

You dredged around for something snarky to say, but words were suddenly failing you as those infuriatingly pretty features drew closer. Seriously could a makeup artist not catch a break around here?

“Uhhh,” was all you managed, your brain bluescreening, as Touya huffed a laugh, exhaling over your mouth.

“Shut up,” you finally spat out, catching a fistful of that black hair. Touya groaned, however, looking like he liked that of all things, and a red hot flash of something jolted through you.

There was a pause, then, a tiny sliver of a moment where it seemed like one of you might pull back—move away and snipe at one another from a safer distance.

Things somehow seemed to be spiraling out of control, in a way you hadn’t expected, after just one kind gesture from him. You didn’t really understand how you’d suddenly found yourself with him leaning over you, your hand pulling at his hair, but if you had any good sense you’d have pulled away immediately and told him something extra mean, just for good measure.

Except then Touya opened his mouth and escalated things, as usual.

“Make me,” he said, the most absolutely heinous line of all time. You yanked his hair harder, deeply disgusted that he’d try that on you.

And then, like a thread had snapped, you leaned forward and crushed your mouth to his.

Touya reacted like a lightning strike. He surged up over you, weighing you down into the staff room couch. He tasted like spearmint muddled under bitter smoke, and he was broader than he looked under that duster, heavy with lean muscle. You could feel every kilo of it press you down into the cushions as Touya licked hot and filthy into your mouth.

His tongue curled around yours, wet and teasing, and he exhaled on a groan like he’d never tasted anything better. It sent little sparks of electricity jittering up your spine, especially as he shifted between your thighs, that trim waist slotting between them perfectly.

“Fuck, angel,” he said, his tone somewhere between sweet and nasty. “Wanted me this whole time, huh?”

You yanked harder on his hair, telling him to shut up, but the swelling of something hard against your thigh told you he only liked that more. “You are so nasty,” you told him, and you could feel his mouth curl into a wicked grin against the side of your face, before he leaned in and bit the shell of your ear, grinding the evidence of his interest even harder into your thigh.

“I can show you nasty, sweetheart,” he promised, his tone going silky-soft again. A calloused hand slid up into your shirt brazenly, long fingers teasing the underside of your bra. When you didn’t immediately try to yank him out of there he wiggled in further, until his fingers met your nipples, and he got even harder against your leg.

He pinched carefully, moving back to kiss you again so that the sound that escaped you was muffled into his mouth. He kissed you harder as your nipples tightened, pebbling in his fingers, something far too satisfied filling the air around you. His hips canted up, grinding himself into you again, this time a little closer to your core.

Your own hips shifted, moving to increase the friction, trying to shift him closer to your center. His fingers and tongue teased you, each flick of his tongue mirroring the caress of a finger, the soft pinch of his index and thumb.

You couldn’t have controlled yourself if you wanted, too focused on the sensations he was drawing from you, the desperate need to get closer to him though you were already pressed together from mouth to shin. You realized you’d been pulling at his coat when he finally withdrew from your shirt and let you yank it down his arms, exposing a patchwork of scars over dense, mouth-wateringly well-defined muscle.

You inhaled sharply, and Touya paused for a minute—until he seemed to realize that you were fixated on the shape of his arm, rather than the purple bruise of scar tissue. The quickening of his grin in the corner of your vision told you that you’d pleased him.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice obnoxiously sweet. “Want to see the rest of me, angel?”

You ripped your eyes off of his arm to glare at him, which only made his grin wider. The fluorescent lights behind him limned his hair in a pale light, blinding you when he moved his head—and all of a sudden you recalled where you were and what you were doing.

“Here? No! Touya, anyone could walk in!” you said, trying to scramble out from beneath him.

Touya caught you around the thigh, hauling you back underneath him. You noticed he was careful to angle your leg up so you didn’t catch your ankle against the arm of the couch.

“This is far from the worst thing I’ve done in a public place,” he said, laying himself back out over you.

You pushed at his shoulder though, casting a worried glance back at the door. “I am not trying to get fired,” you hissed, even as you shivered with the delicious heat of him over you.

Touya sighed through his nose, and then heaved himself off the couch. You watched him seize the plastic makeup chair and haul it over to the door, stuffing it under the knob at an angle so that it held the lock in place. Then he turned around and prowled right back to you with predatory intent. Your stomach fluttered.

“Better, angel?” he asked, tone soft.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of nodding, but he seemed to know what you wanted anyway, leaning back in to kiss you fiercely.

You melted into the feeling of his mouth over yours, kissing him back just as passionately. You hated how good he was at that, hated how pretty he was under all those scars and piercings, hated how his obnoxious personality wasn’t even a factor in what you wanted to do with him right now.

Touya groaned again when you pulled at a fistful of his dark hair, and then you were dragging him down to the couch and climbing into his lap. Touya seized your left leg as you did, pointedly guiding your ankle away from the edge of the seat, and it only inflamed your desire for him.

“Like you a whole lot better like this,” he said into your mouth, as calloused fingers slid into your leggings.

Your reply was cut off by a moan as he traced his index finger lightly over the center of your panties, before pressing down firmly over your clit. A thousand little points of electricity lit up under your skin, and you shifted into his hand unthinkingly.

A smile formed against your lips, and it was only Touya’s hand making its way into your panties that suppressed the annoyed buzz that started in the back of your brain.

“You kick up such a fuss, sweetheart, but look at what you really think of me,” Touya purred as his fingers slid up into your incriminatingly wet folds. “All this for me, angel?”

You wanted to bite him for his cheek but you feared breaking the skin of his scars, so you settled for giving him a pointed look. He just laughed, his smile smug.

“I’ll show you what I’ve really thought of you too, sweetheart,” he promised, taking hold of your leg again to slide your leggings and panties down. He settled you back over the hard line in his pants, grabbing your hips and pulling you firmly down over it, grinning.

“Love when you’re a spitfire little fucking brat. I’ve imagined taking you right over the vanity every single day for the last three years, sweetheart. Taking you against the lockers and then right here over the couch. Fucking you so hard that you scream and everyone comes running in to see you squirming and crying and begging on my cock, and you want it so much that you don’t even care—”

He laughed when he felt you clench up in his lap, working to unbuckle his belt and free himself, immediately angling you over him. “You want that too, sweetheart? Want to see if I can make you scream so loud that people come to see what’s wrong?”

“My god you never shut up,” you told him, pointedly avoiding the question. In lieu of an answer, you shifted, guiding him to your center and sinking down onto him instead. You watched with satisfaction as he threw his head back and hissed at the feeling of you slipping down around him.

“Fffffffffffuck,” he said to the ceiling, a hand tightening in your sweater. You had to agree, gritting your teeth with the delicious slide of him inside of you, hot and thick and full and perfect. You leaned in, putting your mouth over the scar tissue on his neck, smirking when he exhaled shakily again.

“I think,” Touya huffed. “I should have put you over my lap three fucking years ago.”

You thought back to your first glimpse of him, flicking ash at you as he chainsmoked outside the maze entrance, and thought you would have probably gouged his eyes out if he had tried. Honestly he’d barely scraped together enough good will with his little ankle treatment as it was.

But maybe this is what that girl had been talking about, when she said Touya didn’t talk to anyone besides you. Had he really been more into you than he’d let on, these three years? Is that why he’d been at your throat this entire time?

The thought was lost when Touya’s hips lifted into yours, grinding himself into you just right, and your head fell back with a shivery moan. Touya’s mouth found the skin of your throat and sucked as he bucked up into you, picking up into a faster pace. You rocked back and forth over his lap, guided by Touya’s grip on your hips, relishing in the feel of him inside of you.

His fingers slid back down, brushing over your clit, and you bit down a yelp as he dragged his thumb over it firmly.

“That’s it,” he said, biting down softly on your neck. “Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

You pressed a hand over your mouth instead as he slid in and out of you, those clever fingers working you deftly. He pinched softly, then swirled the pad of his thumb firmly over your clit again, groaning and pounding up into you. “I wanna hear you, sweetheart. Always want to hear your mean little mouth.”

“Touya—shut up—” you panted as he moved you how he wanted, played you like an instrument. Between his fingers and the hard press of him inside you, you felt like you couldn’t escape the pleasure, the feeling mounting within you. No matter how you moved your hips, his fingers were there to meet you, rubbing maddening circles, teasing you mercilessly, and he filled you so good that it felt like he was pressing against that spot from the inside too.

You writhed with the feel of him, as he steadily covered your neck and shoulders with marks of his attention. You couldn’t help but moan, much much louder than you would have liked, and Touya leaned back to look at you again, looking pleased.

“That’s it, yeah,” he said, another grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Louder for me, sweetheart. Want you to come for me.”

You huffed, unable to do anything but squirm in his lap, chasing the feeling closer, ever closer to the edge. You weren’t going to let his infuriating attitude ruin this for you, not when you were so close—

Without input from your brain, your hand reached out to grab a fistful of Touya’s hair again and his hips stuttered, slamming up into you with more force than he had previously. He looked a little shocked, and then a little dazed, and the grip he had on the side of your hip tightened almost to the point of bruising as he forced you down onto him harder, gasping.

“Fuck, yeah, sweetheart—fuck yes,” he rasped.

His fingers rubbed you harder, and his hips slapped up into you frantically. The uptick in intensity had your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head, and you bit your palm to keep the sounds in.

Touya ground into you with a renewed fervor, and it was only another matter of seconds before something inside of you was being wrenched loose. You lost the grip on your control, every nerve ending in your body lighting up and coming alive, singing with pleasure. You seized up, crying, “Oh my god, Touya!” and then you were cumming hard, harder than you ever had, Touya’s talented fingers still working you, his cock still fucking you mercilessly.

Touya swore, spitting out your name like a curse, and then again in almost reverent tones, before he too was following you right off the edge. He slammed you down on him once, twice, and then he was cumming too—shivering against you as he held you tight against him.

The silence of the room around you was ringing, once you managed to return to yourself. Touya was a long, hot, hard wall of muscle between your thighs, his hair mussed and a patch of makeup you’d missed smearing into the hair at his temple. His cheeks were flush with effort over the seam of his scars, and he looked, irritatingly, even more beautiful than he usually did.

Like he could sense what you were thinking, the corner of his mouth rose as those cerulean eyes searched over you, blinking like a pleased cat.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I knew I liked you mean,” he said, his raspy tone rougher than normal.

“And I don’t like you at all,” you sniffed, though you knew the protest was pointless when he was quite literally softening inside of you. You let go of his hair, remembering yourself.

“Aww angel don’t be like that,” he drawled, his grin widening. He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss over your mouth. “I can make it up to you—all three years, if you’ll let me.”

You knew he felt your involuntary shiver, pressed up against you like he was. And that was definitely answer enough for him, as his smile went more handsome and boyish than you’d ever seen it. You hated that you liked it.

“I’ll clean up and clock out,” Touya told you, gingerly helping you off of him and back into your leggings, his eyes fixating a little too closely on your legs as you did so. “You tell your friends you’re gonna go home and rest that ankle. And I’ll pick you up out front, angel.”

You flushed, embarrassed that you’d completely forgotten that you were at work, and you’d intended to go out bar hopping after. But you figured you could be forgiven just this one time.

“Fine,” you said, though your insides were feeling a little fluttery at the thought of leaving with Touya. “But I expect penitence or there’s going to be a reckoning.” You supposed you were owed, for all these years of suffering.

Touya looked down at you from under his lashes, dark and beautiful and still as infuriating as ever. “I’ll give you my best, sweetheart. Over and over until you can’t even walk,” he promised, “Gotta keep you off that ankle, after all.”

You flushed again, yanking your sweater down over your leggings, and fled out the door. Touya’s laughter floated after you, sounding pleased.

You sped up your pace, your ears burning.

And if you were actually rushing not to get away from him, but to return to him sooner? Well, then, nobody needed to know that but you.

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #touya x reader #dabi x you #touya todoroki x reader #character: todoroki touya #andie's writing

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jockbroski34 · 2 months

Text

The Bro Cap

Biology was my favorite class this semester. Not only did I find science to be interesting, but I also shared the class with one of the hottest guys in the school: Aaron Moore. He was the star of the school’s baseball team as a pitcher and he was the talk of the school. Girls were always swooning over him for how tall and handsome and athletic he was. He was good at every sport; football, basketball, and so on, but in school, he played baseball. He was a major source of envy for a lot of guys. A lot of guys wished they could be him. I, however, wanted to be with him. Fortunately, I sit behind him in class, so I get the best view of him, despite being from behind. At least it meant he wouldn’t see me watching him.

I often found myself getting distracted by him. Even if I couldn’t see his face, I could see his broad shoulders, which were built like mountains, as well as his arms which were shaped like mounds of muscle. His tall stature sometimes made it hard to look at the board, not that it was the main place my eyes were looking at in the first place. His favorite baseball hat, adorned with our school team’s logo on it, was worn backwards like most of the jocks at the school. He didn’t come off like the rest of them though. His relaxed vibe made him easy to talk to and he could be quite funny compared to the rest of the meathead jocks. He got along with everyone really well, making him very well-liked. Although he was far from the smartest guy in the class, I could tell that he tried. It was no wonder why he was so popular.

Today, I was daydreaming when I was disrupted by our teacher, Mr. Martin. I felt him stare directly at me, almost as if he knew I wasn’t paying attention. It was like he could read my every thought, and honestly, if that were true, that’d be extremely humiliating. The last thing I needed was for my crush on Aaron to be exposed to the rest of the class. Knowing how embarrassing he could be, I wouldn’t put it past him. He asked me a question, and I thankfully already knew the answer, as I awakened from my daydream.

“Correct! I wasn’t sure if you were paying attention or not,” he chuckled. “You always look like you’re off in your own little world. But you still manage to do well. You gotta tell the rest of your class your secret.” Looks like someone has caught on to my tendencies. Mr. Martin was a middle-aged guy, probably in his 30s. He looked good for his age, and was a pretty relaxed and carefree teacher.

The class went by as usual, and eventually we were dismissed. All of the other students dispersed, but I needed to ask our professor a question about the homework. He helped clarify things for me thankfully. I was about to leave, but then he pointed out something on the ground.

“Hey Aiden, doesn’t Aaron sit in front of you? That’s his hat, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I always see him wear it.” It was unusual for him to have left it here by accident.

“Do you know if you can bring it to him today? If not, I can keep it here until next class.”

“I’ll hold onto it until I see him next. I have a feeling I’ll run into him later.” I don’t know why I said that. We don’t have any other classes together and we certainly aren’t close enough to be friends, even if I wished we were. I’m also not on the baseball team. Either way, my professor smiled for helping him out.

Regardless, I grabbed Aaron’s hat, but instead of chasing after him, I realized I really needed to go to the bathroom. He was probably long gone anyways. After I went, I noticed that I was still holding onto his hat. I went to observe it and I noticed that it smelled a little like him, with a mix of sweat from wearing it all day and whatever shampoo he used. I knew I shouldn’t, but I felt a sudden urge to put Aaron’s hat on. Despite the fact that I would feel really embarrassed if someone saw me wearing it, I knew I would likely never get this opportunity again. I was completely alone, so it’s not like there’s anything wrong with it. It wasn’t just any hat, it was Aaron’s. It’s not like he had lice or anything. What’s the worst that could happen?

And so I put it on, wearing it backwards like he would. Strangely, for a few seconds, I felt as though time had completely stopped. The leaky sink faucet paused its rhythmic dripping. The stomping of feet in the hallway deafened. My watch skipped a tick. But as time seemed to return to its natural course, I was able to see how I looked. I had to admit, I looked really good in it. I wouldn’t call myself an unattractive guy, but Aaron was way out of my league. Despite that, a smirk appeared on my face. A wave of confidence washed over me, almost like a little bit of Aaron had rubbed off on me. Suddenly, I didn’t really feel like taking it off anymore. I wasn’t too worried about what would happen if Aaron or one of his friends saw me wearing it.

After admiring myself in the mirror for a few minutes, I realized that I was late to my next class, algebra. I had no idea I had spent so much time checking myself out. I must’ve lost track of time. As I walked to my seat, I felt like all eyes were on me for some reason. I never used to make much of an impression on most people. I was quiet and had only a couple friends. Normally, I would’ve felt a little anxious with so many people staring at me, but I didn’t really give a shit now.

“Late as always, aren’t we Aiden?” the teacher remarked. Very funny. I always showed up on time. I sat down in my seat, but it didn’t feel right. My body squeezed tight into the desk. I felt like I was sitting in a chair meant for a middle schooler. Weird. Something weird is going on, but I can’t figure out what it is.

The class was just as weird because I felt like my classmates were a little more talkative. I couldn’t focus during class due to being distracted by someone whispering. I still felt a couple of their eyes on me. I looked over and made brief eye contact with one of the girls on the far side of the room. She immediately looked away and giggled towards one of her friends. Her cheeks turned a deep crimson, the color of passion. She was cute, but definitely out of my league. I wasn’t straight either way, so I didn’t care if she was into me.

Normally, I was good at math, even if I didn’t like it, but I felt myself struggling to answer questions today. Something must be wrong. The room felt hotter than usual, and I felt myself sweat a little and my body started to ache. I noticed that I smelled a little like Aaron’s cologne. I’ve recognized his scent from sitting behind him, but for that smell to linger and for me to smell like him is really weird.

Class was dismissed, and this was usually when I went to lunch. I received a text from one of my friends, Bryan, from half an hour earlier.

Bryan: Hey, me and the guys are getting food. Wanna come with?

Normally, we always got lunch at the same time. But for some reason, I didn’t really want to? That’s weird for me. I felt my fingers move on my own as they typed out a message.

Me: nah bro i dont feel like it mayb sum other time dude

I didn’t text like that normally. Nor did I turn down my friends. Is it the…Before I could finish my thought, I was interrupted by the booming sound of two guys further down the hall, with one of them calling my name. They were two jocks. I recognized that they were both friends with Aaron because they hung out together a lot. What did they want? I didn’t really get along well with either of them or the rest of their kind. Hopefully they didn’t think I was a pervert for wearing Aaron’s hat and beat me up.

“Sup bro, we were just about to get some food before hitting the gym. Wanna come with?” the other jock asked me. Judging from his tone, he seemed surprisingly friendly with me.

Were they serious? Did these jocks actually think I was one of them? I would never get an opportunity to hang out with them again, so I agreed. Part of me felt guilty for ditching my nerdy friends to hang out with the jocks, but I knew they were cool guys. My perspective on these two big jocks changed as I walked with them. For some reason, I felt a strong sense of camaraderie with them, almost like I’ve known them for a long time. I’m not sure why I was so intimidated by them before. They were really chill.

I saw another one of my friends as I walked with my new friends. I waved to him, but he barely seemed to notice me. Was he mad at me for skipping lunch with them or did he seriously not recognize me since I was hanging out with the jocks? It almost felt like he didn’t know me at all.

I pulled out my phone to see what was up with him, until I realized that Bryan had finally responded to me.

Bryan: My bad. Thought you were someone else. He must’ve given me the wrong number.

Was this some kind of prank? He obviously knew my number. Of course he knows who I am. Whatever, I don’t care what a nerd like him thinks. I put my phone away and resumed chatting with my jock friends. You know, my real friends. I noticed as I walked with them that they didn’t look as big and menacing as they seemed. Either that or maybe I hit my growth spurt recently.

We went and got food, with the jocks making sure I got enough protein. I swear I almost never eat this much. The jocks must eat a lot to stay in shape, I thought to myself. But did they seriously want me to go to the gym with them? I had class soon. But these guys were cool and I didn’t want to disappoint my bros. I figured I could miss a day and go lift with them. As long as it doesn’t turn into a habit.

I realized as we stepped into the gym that I had never worked out before nor had I stepped into an actual gym. I was worried about coming across as weak and humiliating myself in front of them. I changed into some clothes that I'm not really sure when I bought, a tank top and gym shorts. To my surprise, I simply followed the motions of my bros and I was able to work out with them just fine. I noticed that I was able to keep up with their workouts, and I surprised myself with how much I could lift. It shouldn’t have been possible to lift as much as they did but maybe they were just going easy on me because they knew I was a beginner. By the time we finished, I was just in time for my last class. But just before I parted ways with my new friends, one of them said something that caught me off guard.

“Later, Moore.”

Must’ve been a slip of the tongue. There was no way in hell they mistook me for Aaron. At least it gave me a mental reminder to give Aaron his hat back next time I see him. Although…his hat is so nice that I’m a little tempted to keep it for myself. He could always just get another one, right? I just don’t want him to see me wearing it though, so I’ll only do it when he’s not around.

In class, everyone was still staring at me as if I went to school in my underwear. Maybe there was something weird about me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I did smell a little bit since I came from my workout, but I don’t think it was that. I shrugged it off. They can stare all they want for all I care. I felt incredibly sore after my workout, and my arms looked unnaturally swollen. If I had to be honest, I almost felt as big as the two jocks I worked out with. But in such a short amount of time? With no prior lifting experience? That was impossible.

I found myself completely zoned out and indifferent to class today. All I wanted to do was leave and uh…What was it that I had going on later? I pondered that thought throughout the entire class period. Eventually, we were dismissed and I was free to leave. I was walking towards the dorms until I ran into, guess who? Aaron Moore.

“Hey bro, you still coming to practice?” he asked.

“Practice?”

“Yeah, baseball practice, you big dummy! You know, you’re always so forgetful, dude. Good thing I always was the smarter one, bro.”

“Yeah, you’re right, bro. My bad.” I’m not sure which statement I was agreeing with. But as I looked at him, I realized something. He was wearing his hat! But then how was I wearing his hat if he was wearing it? “I thought you lost your hat. How are you wearing it?”

“I was wearing my hat all day, dude. One day you decided to copy me and wear your hat to school like I do. But honestly, I think you rock it better than I do, so keep it up. You’ll impress the ladies.” But I was gay. And I’ve only had this hat for a day. If it wasn’t his, then how was it actually mine? I was overwhelmed and full of questions after everything that had happened today, from my growth spurt, to me hanging out with the jocks, to my old friends barely knowing who I am, but I didn’t seem to have the brain power at the moment to seek the answers to them.

As we walked, I kept chatting with Aaron as if it was natural, as if we always knew each other. Something felt off, but I couldn’t figure it out. Was it because we were going to practice? I’ve never played baseball in my life. Nah, that can’t be right. I feel like I’ve swung a bat before… We went into the locker room to change. I looked in the mirror and paused for a second.

My reflection wasn’t there. Someone else’s was. Someone much stronger and much taller than me. That wasn’t me. It was Aaron Moore.

No, except it wasn’t an exact match. There was enough different about the guy in front of me to know that it wasn’t Aaron. This figure was a little stronger than him, and still stood probably a little over 6 feet tall. I walked closer. “Aaron” walked closer. I moved my hand to feel my face. So did “Aaron”. A dull, confused look appeared on his face. Had I really become him? But Aaron was over on the other end of the room changing. Then who am I? Was I like this since I put the hat on earlier? I reached into my wallet and pulled out my ID.

Aiden Moore...That’s not my last name. That’s…Aaron’s? Normally I wouldn’t have minded taking his last name, but we definitely WEREN’T married. As far as I knew, Aaron was as straight as an arrow.

Date of Birth: 08/17/2003…If I recall, that’s Aaron’s birthday. I knew my birthday, and it was in January. Don’t tell me…Are we…?

I compared the face in the ID to the one in the mirror. It wasn’t an illusion, and it wasn’t a dream. It was like I was his twin! Aaron was an only child though and I only had sisters. At this point, I was so confused and overwhelmed. Panic was the only emotion I could feel as I felt like I was going through an identity crisis. I realized that this all started when I wore his hat. I reached to grab it off of my head…until I felt a hand touch my shoulder. My bro…I mean Aaron.

“Admiring yourself in the mirror, bro? Yeah, you’re a pretty handsome dude just like me. I think it runs in the blood, you know. You like that, right?” He placed his other hand on my head, pushing the hat tighter on my head. I nodded. I proceeded to flex, as I became self-absorbed with my own reflection. I always thought rather highly of myself, especially about my body. At this point, I couldn’t comprehend the paradox of me somehow being his own non-existent twin brother.

“You know, not every guy is lucky enough to have a cool brother like I do, let alone a twin. The two of us can play ball together, work out together, and even get all the chicks we want together. This is all you ever wanted, right?” He wasn’t necessarily wrong, but I wanted to be “with” Aaron, not be him. Whoever granted me this wish got it all wrong. But as I listened to him, I started to realize that maybe it wasn’t my wish to begin with.

“Yeah bro. This shit’s the life, dude.” I noticed Aaron’s face light up as I said that. The way I talked sounded like it came out of the mouth of some dudebro. I noticed his irresistible smirk that was always on his face when he was in a good mood. As I kept admiring myself in the mirror, I felt my mind slow…down...like it was on autopilot…

“That’s right…Just let it happen… I know it’s been a while, so it’s okay if you don’t remember, but you know that one trophy we won a couple years back? During senior year?”

“Fuck yeah, bro. I remember.” But I’ve never played baseball before…But…I have right? I know I have.

“You know you were the reason we won, right? One lucky hit in the bottom of the ninth, and you practically won us the game. I’ve never been more proud of you bro.” Aaron patted me on the back. I remembered that game fondly, even though I should have no recollection of it. That year, our baseball team was the best in the state. And I…led our team to a championship? As much as I tried to deny it in my head, the memories felt real. But why was he reminding me of this now?

“You didn’t do half bad yourself, bro.”

As Aaron and I kept chatting, the memories of being his twin brother kept flowing into my brain, as memories of my former life faded away. Turns out that I was the brother he never had. We were a pair. We complemented each other perfectly. I was actually the twin brother of the most popular guy in the school. I remember I thought he was hot…wait, what the fuck, bro? That’s gay as shit. And weird. This was my own twin we were talking about. Although I guess if I was a handsome stud, then he’d have to be too. After all, no girl can resist either one of us.

“So the hat is working…” Aaron whispered under his breath.

“What hat?”

“Nothing, bro! I was just saying how good your hat looks on you. Come on, let’s go.” I followed him, as my transformation was now complete.

From this day on, I was Aiden Moore, Aaron Moore’s twin brother. Except that’s who I was technically born as and that's who everyone already knew me as. Although we had a lot in common, I definitely felt more like a stereotypical jock. I was loud, cocky, and masculine, almost to the point of brutishness, compared to my brother who was a lot more laid-back and charismatic. Not that it was a bad thing, although most nerds and weaker men would disagree. But what me and Aaron did have in common was playing sports, working out, fucking chicks, and being the most popular guys in the school. I know I wanted to be closer to Aaron, but I never expected this. But at the same time, it felt good, almost pleasurable at times. I realized that in my new state, I could hardly last a day without an orgasm, whether it was in my grip or in some bitch’s pussy.

Two days later, I had biology again. I remembered I kinda struggled with this class. I sat behind my bro as usual. I was grateful for him since he always helped me with the homework. I noticed him talking to the professor in private when we got to class. When I asked him, he wouldn’t say. It wasn’t like him to keep secrets from me. We practically knew everything about each other after all. After class, I was called to stay after by Mr. Martin.

“Aiden Moore…Your brother told me to check up on you. Is everything alright? Did you need any guidance on the homework, too?”

“Never felt better, bro. I think I was just up too late partying the other day. And nah, I eventually figured it out, dude.” I conveniently hid the fact that I copied the answers off of some nerd.

“Good, good.” Mr. Martin smiled. “I won’t leave you too long. I know you two have your hands full with practice today. Hmmm…Still wearing that hat, I see. It suits you well, Aiden.” I saw him write something down in a notebook as I left. Mr. Martin was always cool. I felt like he understood me and my brother better than most teachers here. I couldn’t help but feel grateful for him, but for what? I quickly discarded that thought because it wasn’t important to me.

What was important to me was hitting the gym with my bros. I ditched class again, I don’t even remember what the class was anyways. Probably nothing important. As long as I pass and get to stay on the team, I couldn’t care less about how badly I do in school. I’m basically only here because I got some fancy scholarship.

At the gym, I always pushed myself to lift the heaviest weights. All of my bros were impressed with how much I could lift. Must run in the blood. After school, I went to practice with Aaron. We shared a room at the dorms, and on the weekends, we always went to the biggest parties our school had to offer. We always bragged to each other about what girls we slept with that night, almost like it was a competition. Man, this was the life. I never felt like I understood Aaron on a personal level until recently, but man, we were the luckiest pair of brothers in the school.

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judes-hoe · 25 days

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Dad vibes ~ JB5

Parrings ~ Jude Bellingham x reader

Summary ~ laying in bed with Jude after the parade, you keep seeing pictures of him on instagram and he looks like a dad which turns you on!

Warnings ~ p in v(unprotected wrap it before ya tap it!!!), breeding kink, belly bulge-ish kink, pregnancy talk!

A/N ~ he was so hot

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You’d stayed home while Jude went to the parade. You had a bunch of things to do around the house and thought it was the perfect time to do them.

You’d seen a few clips here and there of the parade and did Jude looks sexy! He almost reminded you of a dad which kinda turned you on.

Night time rolled around about 10pm. Jude was home and you were both in bed cuddling but on your phones, Jude showing you stuff from the parade here and there. You kept seeing things from the parade and seeing Jude with the glasses and shirt tucked into the pants…it turned you on.

“You looked so hot today” you said putting your phone down kissing Judes chest to get his attentions “yeah?” He smirked at you. “Yup, you almost looked like a dad at a kids party, turned me on a little.” I whispered while kissing his neck now. “You saying you wanna make me a dad?” He raised his eyebrows with a smirk. “I mean I wouldn’t complain.” I smirk at him.

Jude was flipping you over so fast. “Darling you’re in for it.” He kissed you neck taking yours(his) shirt off. He attached his mouth to your boobs that was now exposed. “Want me to make you a mommy?” He said his breeding kink now coming into play. “Yes!” You whine.

He smirks and takes your panties off while taking his boxers off. “You thinking about me being a dad got you this wet!” He said looking at your core that’s practically dripping. “Told you it turned me on?” You shrug at him.

He leans down and licks up your slit tasting you, he lets out a groan at your taste. “Fuck you taste better and better every time.” He groaned coming back to kiss you. He took this opportunity to push his cock inside. “Fuck” you moan out feeling the sudden stretch.

He gives you a second before starting to speed up his thrust. “Gonna make you a mommy, fuck a baby into you.” He groans in your ear. “Yes…please!” You moan out scratching at his back. “Get you nice and round in a few months?” He said teasing you as he felt you clench around him at his words. “Right here?” He pushed on your lower stomach making you feel him in your stomach, your eyes fluttered at the feeling.

“Yeah feel me there, that’s were out baby’s gonna be.” He whispered in your ear. You keep clenching around him at his words. “Fuck Jude, gonna cum!” You moan out scratching his back up. “Cum for me baby right behind you.” He said, thrust getting sloppy.

You cum around his cock eyes fluttering, Jude continues his thrust before he does one last deep one. Cumming inside you who’s a low groan and did a few more thrust making sure it stayed before pulling out.

“Did such a good job baby.” he said kissing your forehead before getting up. He went to the bathroom cleaning himself before grabbing a nice warm cloth and coming to wipe you up.

“Did so good.” He said kissing your thighs as he wiped around your pussy and wiped your thighs. “Can’t wait to be a daddy.” He said cuddling you once he put the cloth away. He big spooned you and hand his hands in your stomach. “Gonna be great parents” you said taking his hand and kissing it.

~~~

Few weeks later, here you are in the bathroom with Jude. 2 pregnancy test upside down. “I’m nervous.” You told Jude hands shaking a little. “It’s ok love, we’ll be fine, we’ll be great parents.” He said calmly holding your hands and kissing your head. “Promise.” He whispered.

“They should be ready now” you said looking at Jude. “Well each pick one up ok?” You told him handing him one. “Ok 3….2…1” you said filling it over. Your eyes widen seeing the positive test and you watch Jude’s eyes go wide. “We’re gonna be parents!” He said excitedly hugging you and kissing you repeatedly. “We are.” You said crying a little. “Can’t wait to start a family with you!” He spoke wiping your tears pulling you in a loving kiss.

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A/N ~ hope you enjoyed!!!!

#jude bellingham #judes-hoe😚#jude bellingham drabble #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #dad!jude

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calliesmemes · 4 months

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ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED QUOTES FROM TUMBLR TEXTPOSTS, X (formerly known as twitter) POSTS, TIKTOK, MEMES, AND OTHER SOURCES AROUND THE INTERNET

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“ Currently considering becoming a bother and a nuisance, maybe even a menace or a rascal. ”

“ Hungry? Eat the government. ”

“ Yes, I wanna fuck after every argument. ”

“ Silence, you uneducated peanut! ”

“ They should invent a being alive that isn’t so difficult. ”

“ Women have to think I’m hot or none of this matters. ”

“ Due to personal reasons I will be named an enemy of the state. ”

“ Being overdressed is a myth made up by people who didn’t want you to have fun and be sexy. ”

“ What even are daddy issues? Just traumatize your father back. ”

“ I LOVE complaining! You can’t take that away from me! ”

“ I went to the silly goose convention and they all knew you. ”

“ I’m simultaneously ‘I’m tired of this grandpa’ and ‘that’s too damn bad!’ ”

“ The word ew coming out of a pretty girl’s mouth holds so much power … I think that it can tear apart nations. ”

“ Someone made fun of my shoes and the whole time I just thought of ways to push them out the window. ”

“ If you’re short, simply get taller. ”

“ I better think twice? Buddy I don’t even think once. ”

“ My off putting looks, awkward demeanor, and strange behavior have captivated you. ”

“ There’s something deeply, fundamentally wrong with you. Can we kiss? ”

“ You are a fool. When you walk, clown music plays. ”

“ I mean yeah he’s evil and all but what if I were his favorite? ”

“ I really do hate thinking. ”

“ In my defense, I simply do not vibe with the law. ”

“ I’ve done nothing wrong. Except all the atrocities. Besides that, I’m innocent. ”

“ Sorry I couldn’t hear you over my internal monologue. ”

“ Of course you have white hair and trauma. ”

“ So apparently the bad vibes I’ve been feeling are actually ‘severe psychological distress’. ”

“ Stop calling me a bad person just because I’m orchestrating your downfall! ”

“ The more lip gloss I collect the longer I live. ”

“ Sorry that I am obsessed with you in the unhealthiest way possible. As if it's my fault ”

“ The multiple failed assassination attempts against me have helped build both character and self esteem. ”

“ I could be your loser boyfriend. Do you ever think about that? ”

“ Accidentally went and got myself killed yesterday, but god wont let me die so I’m back ”

“ What do you mean napping isn't a good coping mechanism? What do you mean my problems are still here? ”

“ Academic validation is required for my sanity. ”

“ RIP to everyone killed by the gods for hubris but I’m different and better. Maybe even better than the gods. ”

“ Researching the stages of grief to see if I can get them finished in ten minutes tops. ”

“ My parents were like I’m gonna make a child that is so beyond help. ”

“ It’s not easy to admit when you’re wrong, and that’s why I won’t do it. ”

“ Why can’t this family ever have a funky good time? ”

“ How do I show people that I’m more than my unethical career choice? ”

“ I fucked my way into this mess, and I’ll fuck my way out. ”

“ You look so biteable today. ”

“ Why am I suffering? I have so many correct opinions and takes. ”

“ I AM HAUNTED BY A PAST THAT I CANNOT GO BACK TO! anyways ”

“ Challenging authority, angering gods. The family business. ”

“ Third base is me telling you about my father. ”

“ Hey girl. Plagued by terrifying visions? ”

“ Got caught giving a fuck. Embarrassing. ”

“ I didn’t ‘miss’ the red flags; I saw them and thought that they looked sexy. ”

“ Do my dark circles and deteriorating health make me look hot? ”

“ I get my news from the only reliable source, cryptic symbolism in my dreams. ”

“ Another day of being a bisexual disaster. ”

“ I’m going to let myself be a little unhinged today, as a treat. ”

“ Some of you act like murder is such a big deal. ”

“ You wanna hunt me for sport so bad that it makes you look stupid. ”

“ You’re not a girlboss unless you’ve killed someone. ”

“ It’s so weird how no one ever has correct opinions about things except for me. ”

“ Hello, my love — I mean, my rival ”

“ No one is calling me baby and it’s outrageous I can’t believe it. ”

“ No talking stage. Mutual obsession and you see god in my eyes or nothing. ”

“ I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOOKUP CULTURE DIE IN MY ARMS ”

“ Yes baby your emotional walls are high and impenetrable can we kiss now? ”

“ Affection is disgusting. Drown me in it. ”

“ I am gatekeeping my respect from you. ”

“ Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions. ”

“ I am equal parts fuck around and find out and please don’t yell at me I’ll cry. ”

“ Short legs, big butt. I’m a corgi. ”

“ Fuck being the bigger person; I’m going to start biting people. ”

“ Well that wasn’t very slay of you! ”

“ May I please get a crumb of affection? ”

“ I crave power! Please don’t yell, though; I’m sensitive. ”

“ You call it a near death experience; I call it a vibe check from God. ”

“ Here are some scissors. Now cut it out. ”

“ Might commit a little tomfoolery, maybe even some shenanigans. ”

“ All these flavors, and you choose to be salty. ”

“ How can I live, laugh, love in these conditions? ”

“ What if I said ‘to be honest’ but then lied? ”

“ I'm financially at a stage where I understand why people do fraud. ”

“ Yes I may be evil and morally corrupt, but I’m also incredibly beautiful and I think that makes up for it honestly. ”

“ Debates are stupid. Why would I want to sit down and argue with someone blatantly dumber than me? ”

“ I forget but I do NOT forgive.. I'm just walking around hating bitches can't remember why ”

“ Ding dong your opinion is wrong! ”

“ I’m coming for your kneecaps. ”

“ You dropped your nose you fucking clown. ”

“ Are you a fire alarm? ‘Cause you are really fucking loud and annoying. ”

“ Call me an escalator, because I let people down. ”

“ I love me a good lesbian scandal! ”

“ If you can’t run away from your problems, you’re not running fast enough. ”

“ Everything I want to do is illegal. ”

“ Don’t make me hit your ankle with my Barbie scooter! ”

“ I tell gay jokes because I am a gay joke. ”

“ Fuck! I dropped my mental stability! ”

#askbox meme #askbox prompt #rp ask meme #ask box #roleplay sentence meme #sentence starters #roleplay prompts #roleplay sentence starters #* sentence meme

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fingertipsmp3 · 2 years

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Okay lads, I need a prayer circle or possibly witchcraft or something. I have a job interview on Wednesday and not to be dramatic or anything but if I don’t get it I’m going to make it everyone’s problem

#okay so like. i don’t have a Confirmed job interview. but basically i sent my application in last week and the lady called me today #and was like ‘did you forget to fill in the supporting evidence or do i have an old file or something?’ and i was like ‘i definitely #forgot to fill in the supporting evidence’ and she gave me the opportunity to resubmit my application with the evidence #as long as i do it by tomorrow afternoon. and i immediately agreed because of course #but like.. she told me the interview day AND she put in the effort to do this in the first place. so she must think my application is good #aside from the fact that a whole page of it was missing #i feel like if i got an incomplete application and it also sucked i would simply not call the person ever. but she took the time to call me #and give me another chance. lads i think i’m getting an interview #also i spent like an hour on the supporting evidence just now and like.. it’s good. BELIEVE me; it’s good #i can write my way into or out of anything. my writing has ruined careers (not mine) and been nominated for accolades (mine)#it’s a good statement #my problem is simply that i don’t interview well. i only got the library job because it was volunteering #and i only got the bartending job because the world cup was about to start and the landlord just wanted anybody who could hold glasses #and i only got the teaching job because no one on the panel knew what ESOL was and i bamboozled them with my ways #every other job i have gone for from retail to medical to academic i have failed HORRIBLY #mcdonald’s didn’t even want me. mcdonald’s!! i mean i did get in an argument with the manager but still #and that sort of thing is exactly what i can’t be doing in this interview. so if you could all send good vibes or generally pray that i will #come across as a normal and competent person who would make an acceptable teaching assistant at a primary school; that would be amazing #because the thing is i know i could do the job. but will they believe that and will they like me? they need to #i really want this job man. the school is in walking distance and my goddaughter is going to be starting there in september #and i think it would just be so nice. genuinely #personal

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luveline · 5 months

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Girly pop, I saw that ask😏 I think a lot of us would love to have Hotch be the father of our children lololol- its SO valid. Can I request a pregnant reader x Aaron hotchner? It can be about anything and everything, placing it into your hands girl 🤲 im just here for the vibes😩 love ya!

thank you for requesting lovely! <3

“It’s a bit weird,” you say quietly.

Hotch touches your thigh under the desk. “It’s not weird,” he says without looking up. There’s a casefile open in front of him, because there almost always is.

“It looks weird.”

“It looks beautiful. You’re changing.”

You cover your stomach with your woollen cardigan and glance through the windows of his office. You’ve spent a lot of time at his side lightly; brewing a new life has made you unreasonably paranoid. It’s not a symptom either of you were expecting, but Hotch has yet to baulk. You weren’t even showing and you were wrecked by nerves. Now you’re calming, and the baby is getting bigger, and you’re pretending to be more anxious than you feel for the sake of being near him. He hasn’t baulked about that, either.

“Are you sure I can still be in here?” you ask.

“Well, my ability to get work done hasn’t been affected,” he says, a teasing lightness seeping into his tone. “Are you working well?”

You jiggle the mousepad on your laptop to wake the screen. “Yes.”

“That’s terrible. I’m one handed managing more than you.”

You cover his hand with yours. “No need to brag.”

Hotch hums. You sit quietly after that for a time as he works. He’s consulting on something, and he does as he claims; he works efficiently until he’s finished, his brow crinkled, his thoughts unsaid. You sneak a peek at his case and he closes it quickly.

“Hey, what? I can’t see? Is it confidential?”

“You’ll feel gross and then the baby will.” He smiles around the word ‘gross’ as though he knows it’s completely out of character to say. “I’m protecting you both.”

“My hero.”

“Watch it,” he says, squeezing your thigh hard enough to tingle.

You laugh and lean back in your chair, the end of your blouse climbing up your stomach uncomfortably. It’s odd to suddenly outgrow your shirts in this specific way, and to see the evidence of your small sapling as he grows. “Whatever.”

Hotch glances at the door before turning in his chair toward you. His hair has grown out again to your delight, dark strands kissing his forehead, darker lashes held low as his gaze drops to your stomach, and he cups your bump without asking. He’s the only one who can get away with such a thing —he’s the gentlest touch you’ve ever met. “How’s your heart today?” he asks, his palm gracing back and forth. It’s oddly soothing.

He’s asking if you’re worried. “I’m okay. I think whatever it was is going away… I know you’ll take care of me, so there’s no reason to be freaking out all the time.”

“I will,” he says. He lets his hand rest warmly on the hill of your stomach. “I can’t protect you from everything, but you know,” —he drops his voice to half a murmur— “I’ll try my hardest, honey.”

You lean into his side. “That’s good enough for me.”

Hotch puts his head on yours, jiggling your mousepad for you when the screen goes dark.

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

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snugglebug-mj-blog · 3 months

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Hugging them for the first time pt 2

Heartslabyul Dorm & Savanaclaw {some are short some arent} {Riddle, Trey, Cater, Leona, and Ruggie)

Y/n has been at NRC for a while and she's never hugged anyone (besides grim) until today. Y/n took in a deep breath before walking out the door of the ramshackle dorm with grim on her shoulder. {ps y/n is pudgy since thats what i am)

Riddle Rosehearts: HUG!THIS!BOY! (pt2) This boy is hella touch starved (mrs. rosehearts me trey and Che'nya just want to talk with bats) ribble froze up almost as stiff as a tree before he slowly melted into y/ns arms. The warm y/n gave off made him feel safe in her hold. He stayed in her arms for a good minute before slowly backing away from her “thank you for the hug y/n but next time tell me i don't want to accidently collar you in a panic” riddle said straightening his tie y/n nodded before walking off.

Trey clover: Trey gives off the vibes that he doesn’t like to be touched so he’s one of the few y/n would ask before suddenly hugging. Trey was baking some tarts (surprise surprise) when y/n walked “afternoon y/n how are you this evening?” trey asked as he put the tray into the oven “i’m good i just had a quick question to ask you if that’s all right” y/n started as she played with the end of her shirt. Trey looked at her as he whipped his hands off “of course you can! Is someone messing with you?” trey asked in his big brother voice y/n just chuckled slightly before shaking her head no “No big brother” she started with a tease which trey smiled before waiting for her to continue with her question “i wanted to ask if i could hug you. Nothings wrong! I’m just in a hugging mood” y/n said trey was shocked before chuckling “of course!” he said with a smile holding his arms out y/n was shocked for a second before smiling and quickly ran into his arms. He smelled like pastries and his hug was nice and softly tight. “Don’t ever be afraid to ask me for a hug just make sure i’m not holding anything before the hug though” he said with a smile as he pulled away y/n nodded before running off.

Cater Diamond: To find him just go to his live and there you go he’s sitting in the garden. Once y/n got to cater he just turned off the live and the next thing cater knew someone was hugging him. Cater looked down to see y/n which made him smile brightly before hugging her back “thank you y/n i really needed that” he whispered. Before cater could pull away Y/n took out her phone and smiled as she took a picture of them still hugging. “Here you go. Don’t post it till tomorrow though” y/n said as she sent the picture to him he nodded before walking off. Cater smiled before pulling out his phone and pulling up the picture.

Leona Kingscholar: Bold of you but also hug this lion. He just getting up in botanical garden when he heard y/n coming towards him “ herbivore” he said looking at y/n as she got closer to him, a soon as her arms wrapped around him he grunted, he looked down at her before wrapping one arm over her “how bold of you herbivore to run into the arms of a carnivore. You best be prepared for it all” he voice filled with smugness “bring it lazy bones” y/n said with a smile looking up at him. Leona huffed “maybe later i’m still sleepy” as he let her go and walked away but for the rest of the day leona was in a better mood.

Ruggie Bucchi: Be warned he might try to steal your wallet or food as a joke (95% of the time). Ruggie was just leaving sams shop when y/n suddenly came up to him and hugged him. At first he thought he was getting robbed then relaxed it was y/n “what was that for? I was about to bite you! Warn me next time!” ruggie huffed with a pout y/n just laughed before putting a chocolate donut in his mouth (where did the donut come from? magic). Y/n handed ruggie the donuts before running off ruggie just smiled and shock his head he never refused free food explicitly donuts and explicitly from one of his friends.

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flemingsfreckles · 3 months

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Better Boyfriend than Him (18+) pt.3

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: Part 1, Part 2 the more time you spend in Jessie’s bed the more you start to realize maybe it’s more than good sex

Warnings: Smut (18+), frat boy Jessie vibes, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), strap on (r receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation, edging, cursing

WC: 4.9k

A/N: this is like a 50/50 smut/not smut split. For the sake of this series continuing it unfortunately couldn’t just be straight banging, so there’s a little plot.

“Please, Jessie, please.” You yelled into your pillow as Jessie was behind you thrusting roughly, her thighs slapping hard against the back of yours. She was putting so much force into you that you were gripping the bed sheets to prevent your body from moving. Your body was exhausted but you fought against her thrusts to keep your knees under you.

Letting her use the strap on you had been like opening the floodgates of sex between the two of you. You had both fallen asleep together in her bed after the first time she used it on you. When you woke up Jessie had moved to the living room where she was sitting watching tv. You had sat down next to her, it only took a few minutes for her hand to move onto your thigh and before you knew it, she was kneeling in front of the couch with her face buried between your legs making you cum for the third and fourth time that day. Instead of coming over to just hang out with her, you came over to hang out, but also you weren’t going to turn down mind blowing sex.

You felt bad for both of your neighbors over the past few weeks, you alternated between your place and hers but it was still an excessive amount of sex being had that your poor neighbors had to hear. The sex had somehow managed to get better, you’re not sure how but it had. You were beginning to try more things, but Jessie was still hesitant about being too fast or hard on you. She still need some encouragement here and there, sometime getting caught up in the fact that she cared about you more than her other hookups, unable to completely let herself go. She tended to be soft, making sure her actions were slow, gentle.

You could feel when she would hold herself back from being rough. She’d get caught up and move faster or harder, you’d let out a whimper or a cry out of surprise or pleasure and she’d immediately slow back down much to your dismay. Despite your encouragement, she kept it gentle. While it was nice and made you feel comfortable and safe at the beginning, but you were secretly dying for her to be rough with you.

That’s how you both ended up here. You had decided to tease her all day in hopes it would lead to some rougher behavior from her. Today was one of the busiest days you had, 3 classes in a row followed by a lab. You had worn your lowest cut shirt and the smallest bra you owned, making sure your chest was fully on display. You had picked out a red lacy thong that you had just bought yourself with the idea of Jessie taking it off in mind.

When you sat down next to her in your first class you watched her eyes attach to your chest, her mouth falling slightly open.

“Like what you see Fleming?” You gently shake your chest in her direction.

“Are you trying to make me fail?”

“No. If anything I’m helping you. If you’re good today and pay attention during class I’ll let you see what I’ve got under my skirt.” You lean over, letting your hot breath tickle her neck and ear “not to give away the secret but it’s lacy and red and I bought it with you in mind.”

Her face flushes but she grabs out her notebook and a pen. You watch as she actually takes notes in class for once, instead of just doodling and then asking you for help later when she doesn’t understand something.

You continue to tease her over the next few classes, you can tell she’s becoming more and more frustrated as the day goes on. She’s more frequently glancing at your chest, biting her lip, she even tries to place her hand on your thigh in your last class. Quickly pushing her hand away she sends a begging glance your way. You turn to her and mouth ‘later’ to her. She rolls her eyes and goes back to taking notes.

That’s how you ended face down, ass in the air with Jessie pounding herself into you. You finally had broken through and she was being rough with you.

She had thrown you around the second you walked into her apartment. She had nearly ripped your shirt pulling it over your head and stripped you of your bra while you were still against the wall in the hallway to her bedroom. She had ordered you to leave the thong on after she pushed you onto her bed. She had walked to her dresser, grabbed the strap and lube as she usually did and came back over to you. Her hands had spread your legs, and she dropped her face to start teasing you.

She had licked and touched you through the fabric of your underwear, making you feel some of the same teasing that you had put her through all day. She had grabbed the fabric between her teeth, pulling it back before letting it snap against your skin making you moan.

Instead of taking it off Jessie had pushed the fabric to the side, holding it with her thumb, and let her tongue start pleasing you. Each time she would feel your legs begin to shake and your grip on her head get tighter, she’d pull back much to your disappointment. She was edging you, teasing you as much as she could and it was ruining you. You whined after she pulled away for the second time.

“Oh my god, Jessie seriously?” You were getting frustrated with her the way she’d get you so close to the edge and pull away.

“This is what happens when you’re a fucking tease all day. Wearing that tight fucking shirt, putting your tits on display for everyone, telling me about this tiny little thing.” She snaps the elastic of your thong again. “You did this to yourself.”

You were so sensitive, squirming under her as she held you in place, after the third time she pulled away when she returned she added fingers into you with her tongue. It took only a couple thrusts before you closed your legs around her, cumming hard on her face and fingers. Jessie wasn’t done, not satisfied with her reward for being a good student today she continued.

Giving you no time to recover she pulled down your now soaking wet thong, leaving you completely bare. She had flipped you over and pulled your hips up and toward her own. She had never fucked you in this position before, you usually were facing each other in some way. Not wanting to actually hurt you she had still paused to put lube on despite how wet you already were, your arousal dripping down making your thighs and the bed wet. She had pushed into you at a quick but still sensible pace. The new position made your hole even tighter, you felt her stretching you out.

Jessie didn’t wait this time for you to say anything, she started thrusting immediately pulling the whole length out, leaving just the tip touching your entrance before slamming her hips back into yours. The first few thrusts were pleasure mixed with pain but something about the mixed feeling, torn between pushing her away and wanting to pull her even closer was exhilarating.

“You’re taking me so fucking well. Being such a good girl.” You hadn’t explicitly discussed it but Jessie had quickly realized you had a small praise kink. She had accidentally called you a good girl another time in bed and you had blushed at the phrase while letting out a dirty moan. It should’ve been obvious given that you were a people pleaser, a teacher's pet, it made sense that being told you were doing well was a turn on.

“So perfect for me, you're being such a good reward, letting me take you like this, letting me do whatever I want to you. So good.”

Jessie’s words were surprising, in the numerous times you had slept together in the past week, she had never been this vocal. Some moaning and a couple words here and there but it was simple stuff. Her telling you you’re doing good, that you feel good, taste good, but never to the extent of what she was telling you now.

With the previous edging and orgasm it’s only a couple minutes before you’re shaking under her,

“You want to cum again? Make a mess on my cock?”

“Mhmm” not able to get out words you moan in response. Her thrusts stop, her dick fully inside of you. She leans forward somehow making it feel like the strap on was even further inside of you. Her hand comes up to grab your hair and pull your head up and off the pillow. You’re now looking at the ceiling and can just barely see Jessie’s face

“Good girls use their words.” Those words falling from her mouth in a husky voice is nearly enough for you to cum without any further stimulation.

“Yes I want to cum.” You’re able to get out the words now that she’s not pounding into you.

“Ask the right way.” Her grip on your head tightens as she waits for you to beg for her.

You weren’t fully sure what she meant by the right way, but you knew she’d tell you if it was wrong.

“Please Jessie, please make me cum, I want to cum for you, can I?” You’re whining, hoping she doesn’t deny your plea. You didn’t have much experience with dirty talk, you had previously felt uncomfortable saying much of anything in the bedroom, but with Jessie it was comfortable and she made you want to beg.

“Good girl.” She says as she drops your hair moving her hands back to your hips. Her thrusting picks up right where it left off, she’s picking up speed, you're being thrown forward so hard you have to put your hands on the headboard to make sure you don’t hit it.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum Jess, please.”

“Go ahead.” She says so calmly, as if she was giving you permission to take the last piece of cake, not for you to unravel underneath her in a writhing mess. Unable to hold yourself up as you give in to your orgasm you collapse onto the bed, laying down flat, your face turned to the side, eyes screwed shut, you’re biting your lip so hard you’re sure there will be blood, groans coming through your teeth.

Jessie doesn’t stop when you collapse under her or when she feels your legs shaking. She lowers herself to stay inside of you. She keeps thrusting as you cum around her.

“Jess” a whine comes from your lips trying to let her know you were on your way to being oversensitive, the edging from before taking its toll.

“Give me one more.” She demands from behind you.

“I can’t.” You’re really not sure if you can or not, the feeling between your legs is so overwhelming you’re not sure how much longer you can take it.

“Yes you can and you will. Be a good girl. You wanted to cum, I’m letting you cum.”

Her praise has you wanting to listen to her, wanting to follow her command. She puts her body weight onto you, she’s warm and sweaty, the new angle gives you a slight relief as she’s hitting a new spot inside of you but it’s only a few seconds later that you feel another orgasm surface again.

Your moans get softer until you’re left with your mouth open, no noise coming out as you have your third orgasm that afternoon. This one was short, pleasure running through your body only for it to be immediately followed up by the pain of overstimulation. Tears start to fill your eyes, you whole body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending screaming at you. Instinctively you try to pull yourself away from Jessie as she continues to fuck into you but her weight is holding you to the bed, unable to move.

“Fuck Jessie. Stop, stop!” You're able to throw your hand behind your back finding her hips that had already stalled at your word to stop. “Fuck.”

Jessie is frozen behind you, she doesn’t move at all. The strap is halfway into you, it remains there as she stops moving.

“What do you want me to do? Pull out?” Her voice that was previously full of confidence and arrogance is now one of concern and comfort.

“No, don’t pull out yet, just give me a second.” You were done, you wanted her to pull out but knew the sensation of her sliding out would be uncomfortable in the moment.

“You don’t have to be frozen Jess.” You could feel how tense she was behind you. Trying to reassure her that she wasn’t going to break you if she moved. She readjusts slowly putting more of her weight off of you and onto her own legs, making sure not to move her hips and change how she was inside of you.

“Take it out please.” Feeling yourself relax enough, you tell her to pull out. Jessie follows your direction, gently moving her hips back from yours to pull out. You curse into the pillow as she does, the drag of the strap against your overly sensitive walls was uncomfortable.

“Did I hurt you?” You can't see, still face down in the pillow, but she sounds quiet and far away, you no longer can feel her touch against your skin.

“Not really? I don’t know?” You’re really not sure, you’ve never been so overstimulated, it wasn’t necessarily painful but it wasn’t a good feeling. It was on the tiny line between pain and immense pleasure. Using what strength you had left you use your arms to push yourself up and flip over. Jessie’s hands grab your calves and help move your legs, resting one on each side of where she was sat back on her feet. “It was just too much I think. But I’m not hurt, no.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, you didn't do anything wrong. Technically you did everything right, you did it so well, I couldn’t handle it.” You make a joke trying to lighten her mood. She grabs the strap on the harness and slides them off, picking up each leg to slide it off and tossing it to the floor.

“Can I lay down?” You know she’s referring to if she can lay down on top of you, a small action she had started doing after sex. She had done it out of exhaustion the first few times and once when she didn’t do it, you had made a comment about it. Now she does it everytime. There was something so safe about both of you laying, skin to skin, after letting her do unmentionable things to you just moments before.

“Please do.” You weren’t sure if this time it was more for you or her. It was usually you asking for her to lay but the way you could read the guilt on her face made you realize that maybe today, being able to lay on you would help her more than it would you.

She gently places her body on top of yours, her arms wrap about and under your back, her face falls into the crook of your neck. You face goes to the same place on her. You stay wrapped together, neither of you moving, just breathing and holding each other.

“I think I got a little carried away.” She says into your neck. Jessie presses herself up, putting her face above yours. “I’m sorry. I just, with the teasing all day, not that it’s your fault. I just got so pent up, I should’ve checked in before we started. To see if it was okay to be like that.”

“Hey it’s okay, I would've told you to do exactly what you did, the whole reason I teased you was because I wanted to rile you up, to get you to be rough with me.”

“You want me to be rough?” She gives you a questioning glance.

“Yes, I’ve been trying to get you to be for a couple days now.” You let your hand gently drag up and down her back reassuring her with physical touch.

“Oh. Sorry I was too rough.” You can tell by her face she still feels guilty.

“Please don’t feel bad about what just happened. I really enjoyed it Jessie, it just became too much. But I really liked how you were talking to me.” Your hands come up to cover your face as you admit to her you liked her dirty talk.

“Oh yeah?” Her cockiness comes back for a moment. She moves your hands away from your face and plants a kiss on your lips. It’s a quick kiss, nothing sexual about it. She had been doing that more often. Giving you kisses when you’d walk by, giving you a kiss when you’d show up at her door, a kiss when you get ready to go back home.

“Do you need anything? Water? Food? Do you need pain meds?”

“Maybe just a shower.” Normally Jessie took the time to clean you up after you had sex, she’d bring a towel or washcloth with warm water and gently clean you up, but after today she had wanted to stay close to you, not wanting to even wander off as far as the bathroom for a couple minutes.

“Yeah of course.” Jessie moved off of your body, hopping off the bed and standing next to you. She held her hands out to you. Feeling the soreness already setting in you swung your legs over the side of the bed and hopped onto the floor. Jessie held your hands before moving a hand to your waist watching you wobble as you began to step toward the bathroom. She turned on the water for you and grabbed out a fresh towel.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, just shout and I’ll come.” She turns to leave. Part of you wants to ask if she’ll join you. You decide against it. Jessie had yet to fully undress in front of you at any point during sex. She had made it routine to take off her shirt and pants but never further than that. You were okay with that, you didn’t mind being on the receiving end, but you also had a small urge to return the favor. You wanted to make her feel even half as good as she had been able to make you feel. You wanted to make her feel comfortable and safe enough with you to take them off if she wanted to.

You couldn’t help but think if she’d been intimate in that way with anyone else. You’re sure she had but the more you thought about it, you could only recall times she had talked about her doing things to girls, never anyone returning the favor. You shook that thought from your head, that was her choice, not for you to push.

Jumping from one thought to the next your brain brought up the question of what were you doing? What was the point with Jessie? Was it just experimenting? Was it just for fun? Was she just a good fuck? Friends with benefits maybe? The longer you stood under the water the longer you thought about her. The longer you thought about the brown hair, brown eyed girl waiting in the other room, the more you realized, you maybe didn’t want to just be friends with benefits. You quickly shut off the water, realizing you had been in the shower a significant amount of time and Jessie would probably come to check on you if you didn’t emerge shortly.

You stepped out, wrapping a towel around your chest. You moved to the other side of the bathroom, taking a second to look in the mirror. You pulled the towel open, to look at the full extent of Jessie’s work. You were littered with hickeys, some from days before, now a light yellow shade as they nearly faded. Others a deep blood red, from only a few minutes ago. She had put them everywhere, your stomach, your chest, your collarbone, shoulders, hip bones, there were a few on the inside of your thighs. There were a few tiny ones on your neck. All low down that they could be easily hidden with a hoodie, your only request to her. As you looked at each one you could remember the feeling of her lips and tongue, taking the time to make the mark on your skin.

“Admiring something?” Jessie’s voice startles you, causing you to jump.

“Just the marks you left.” You turn to her, holding your towel still open. Her eyes drag over your body slowly, stopping for a second at each mark.

“Some of my finest work.” She smirks at you. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, you were just taking a while, wanted to make sure you were still standing.”

“Yeah sorry I just got lost in though. If your water bill is extreme this month I’ll cover it.” You wrap yourself back up in the towel.

“Do you want some other clothes? I can’t imagine that bra is in the slightest bit comfortable.” She’s already rummaging through her drawers for a shirt and sweatpants. She tosses both in your direction. “Underwear too? I think I have a clean pair of yours from a different time.” Her hands flip through a stack of clothes in a wash basket. The pair of underwear comes flying from her hand in your direction.

“Yeah it wasn’t super comfortable and neither was the thong but it was worth it.” You pull on the clothes she gave you. A pair of her UCLA sweatpants and a plain black shirt were a lot more comfortable than the outfit you had been wearing. After dressing you follow Jessie out to her living room. She had gotten out a textbook and notebook paper while you were in the shower.

“Wow, did I turn you into a good student or something?” You say sarcastically, Jessie usually didn’t pull out school work unless you encouraged her to. “If you had just told me all it took was a good bra and a tight shirt to get you to take your own notes I would’ve whipped out a tit a long time ago.”

She looks up at you, unamused by your joke. Moving into her kitchen you grab yourself a glass and fill it before moving back to where Jessie was sitting.

You both work side by side on your assignments, you notice you have to help Jessie less than normal, or maybe it’s just she’s trying harder than she normally does. You can tell when she starts to struggle with a question. Normally she’d turn to you for an explanation, instead today she’ll try it herself. She’ll use the textbook, she even opens the notes she had taken in class, and then if she still needs help she’ll poke you with her pen until you look at her. It’s a nice change, seeing her put forth more effort than normal toward school.

If anything it was you having a hard time getting your work done today. You couldn’t stop thinking about what it was you and Jessie were doing. The same question of was it just friends with benefits, crept up and over again.

“Can I ask you something?” You let the words come out before you have the chance to second guess it.

“Anything.” Jessie says not looking up from where she was writing on her paper. You both had always responded that way when asking each other if you could bring something up. It was what made you such good friends, the openness and communication with one another.

“What are we doing?”

“I’m doing calculus, I don’t know what you’re doing though, you have out your chemistry book but you’re doing physics homework.”

“No Jessie, I mean what are we doing? With the sex?” This draws her attention. She puts her pen down and looks at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it just meaningless sex to you?” You needed to know, was this just a hookup for her. You wanted to know if you’d be replaced as soon as she found someone else more suitable, someone who could handle her without stopping her.

“It’s definitely not meaningless.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know, what do you think it is?” She deflects the question back at you.

“I don’t know Jessie, I thought it was just fun, originally I did. But recently, I don’t know. And it’s making me question things and it’s just a little overwhelming.”

“I know what you mean.”

Unsure of what to say you just sit, biting your lip as you think. “I’m not sure if I’m just confused, because we’re so close and we’ve been friends for a while, and now with the sex, I don’t know, I can’t tell what my feelings are, but they’re different then they were before.” You were pretty sure you were developing feelings for her. You had also never had feelings towards another girl so that added confusion on top of the confusion of her being your best friend. “I think about you a lot, more than I did before.”

“I do too, think about you a lot more than I used to. It’s confusing.”

“Would you want to try figuring that out? Like us together?” This was your poor attempt to ask her out on a date, to try exploring those feelings and seeing where they took you.

“Are you implying we date?”

“I don’t know, maybe?”

“I don’t really date, you of all people should know that based on my history.”

“Yeah well based on my history I don’t really have sex with women but apparently things can change.” You throw up your hands in frustration. Jessie doesn’t say anything. She just sits, her pen now back in her hand as she plays with it.

“You know what, forget I said anything.” Embarrassed now that she had essentially rejected your offer on a date you closed your textbook and started to back your stuff. You didn’t want to sit here with her after being rejected.

“No wait.” Jessie puts her hand on top of the textbook stopping you from putting it into your backpack. “I just don’t really know how to.”

“How to what?”

“How to do the whole dating thing. I haven’t actually dated anyone in years, and the last time I did it ended so badly, I just decided to ignore feelings and decided to just stick with sleeping around since, no feelings, no commitments, just the fun, and I’ve been doing that for so long, I don’t know how to do dating. I don’t think I’d do it right.”

“There’s no right way to do it. It’s however we’d want to.” You couldn’t believe you were having this conversation, that there was a small possibility that this could work. “That’s the thing about dating, it’s a trial and error process, that’s why people don’t just jump straight to marriage, dating is for learning. Think of it this way, nothing would really change with us, we already hang out everyday, we know everything about each other, we know the sexual chemistry is there, it would just be adding in the couple-y things.”

“Okay, trial and error, I can do that with you. I’m just nervous I’ll end up losing you. If something were to happen.”

“Is that a yes, you want to try this?” You gesture between the two of you.

“Yes.” Jessie nods, a small smile across her face.

“Okay. I should get going then.” You pick up the textbook you were in the process of packing up, actually throwing it into your backpack this time before sliding the bag onto your shoulders.

“What? Why?” She jumps up from her position on the floor, concerned why you’d be leaving after you just agreed to date.

“I have a hot date to pick up tonight, I have to get ready.” You wink at her and see the realization cross her mind that she meant you. “Be ready by 6.” You check your watch quickly, making sure that gives both of you enough time to get ready. She follows you to the door and you turn to face her to say goodbye. She leans in to steal a kiss but you move your head and place your hands on her shoulders stopping her from coming closer.

“I don’t kiss before the first date. Try again tonight.” You send her a smirk and she rolls her eyes at you. You step out and close the door to her apartment behind you. Reality starts to set in, you just asked her out, and she said yes. Butterflies build up in your stomach, you were taking her out on a date, your best friend.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming imagine #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #canwnt x reader

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