#Hoodie buddies :3

[createbellatheartist]

once again I drew with my finger

Since I’m obsessed with hoodies I think me and dust would be buddies:3

[babypooks]

🤍🤍🤍🤍

[canine-teethed-sheets]

BABY JUMPSCARE

BEHOLD!! HOOD'S AND SPAZZ'S NON CANONICAL CHILD, VERIDIAN!! OR MINT!! (they both nickname her Verdi)

yes!! her soul is a firelike shape!! kinda tipping from my DT brother's soul headcanon but shhh

Mint is a small curious child who's really pouty most of the time but she means well <:)

she was found in a box while the two were taking a walk in an AU and Spazz WAILED that she wanted to give her mercy on the poor littol babey

bonus:

Mint: *points to Flower* doggy!!

Flower: wh- N O—

(@socksandbuttons look a baby!! :D)

[makeitmingi]

Everything I Could Ever Wish For!

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Cute, Fluff

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Mom!Reader, Dad!Mingi, Son (Song Jooyun), Uncle!Ateez

Summary: It's Mingi's birthday! Even though Mingi acts indifferent about his birthday, you know he secretly loves it when you celebrate it. So with your son and the rest of Ateez, you plan the perfect birthday celebration to show Mingi just how much you appreciate and love him.

Word count: 5.6K

A/N: Happy birthday Mingles, the loml <3

Did Mingi really want to be awake at such an early hour on his birthday? Not really. He would much rather be curled up beside you in your shared bed. It was so hard for him to leave you this morning when he had to get up to get ready.

"Appa...?" His 4 year old son, Jooyun, stood at the door of his room, rubbing his eye as he held his Tyudeongi toy close to his body.

"Hey, buddy." Mingi smiled softly, bending down so he could be on a closer eye level to the sleeping child. Jooyun immediately wrapped his arms around his father's neck.

"Where you going..?" The child asked with a yawn.

"I'm going to work for a little. But I'll be back soon. In the mean time, keep mama company?" He requested.

"Mmm." Jooyun nodded. Mingi chuckled and kissed Jooyun's cheek before bringing him to your room. He carefully laid Jooyun down beside you.

"Go back to sleep, buddy." Mingi whispered, patting Jooyun's back to soothe him.

Now, Mingi REALLY didn't want to leave. You, your son and your comfy bed, that was perfect. But knowing that ATINY were waiting on him, Mingi forced himself to leave. After a lot of begging, the staff already allowed Mingi to do his birthday live at 10 am instead of the usual 2-3pm that the members do their birthday lives.

And yes, Jooyun was in love with Tyudeongi and no, Mingi was not jealous or bitter. Besides, you hug a Ddeongbyeoli to sleep and Mingi's only ever complained about it twice.

"Good morning." Mingi bowed to the manager that was waiting for him in the van.

"Happy birthday, Mingi ah." The manager wished, smiling at the taller male through the mirror. Mingi smiled gratefully as he slumped back in his seat.

"Too early?"

"Hyung, if you had to leave the love of your life and your son in your warm comfy bed on your birthday, you would be upset too." Mingi scoffed. His manager laughed and nodded in agreement.

"Happy birthday, Mingi sshi." All the staff were greeting him when he arrived at KQ.

"Thank you." Mingi bowed respectfully. He sat in the chair, waiting to do his hair and make up for the livestream.

"None of the members are even here this early." Mingi sighed as he looked at his manager in the mirror. He chuckled at Mingi's kid-like whining and placed a coffee and muffin down on the table for him to eat as breakfast.

"I think only Yeosang and Wooyoung are coming in for dance workshop later." His manager informed, scrolling on his phone. Mingi took his phone out and took a selfie.

'I wish I was still in bed with you and Jooyun :( - Mingi'

He sent the pouting photo of himself to you. Seeing as to how you haven't opened the message, he guessed you were either still asleep or busy with Jooyun.

"Okay, 15 minutes, Mingi ah." His manager called. After his hair and make up, Mingi went to get changed.

"Woah, look at all the ATINY in the waiting room." Mingi said, looking over the director's shoulder.

"Of course, it's Mingi's birthday." The director laughed, making Mingi jokingly scoff. He checked his appearance one more time before sitting in the chair to get ready.

"Wow, you guys prepared a lot." Mingi looked around at the backdrop and all the props that was used to decorate the area. This year, his birthday merch was a Fix On hoodie that he designed himself. Taking another sip of his coffee, Mingi stretched his arms over his head and finally took a seat.

"Do I look okay? Can you see the hoodie properly?" Mingi asked the staff member, who look through the streaming camera.

"Looks good, Mingi sshi." She nodded and gave him a thumbs up. Mingi smiled in satisfaction, leaning back in his seat and sending you a final text.

'Going to start the stream soon, baby. Watch it if you have time. After this, I'm coming home to you. - Mingi'

"3, 2, 1!" The staff counted down and the room went quiet as Mingi smiled for the camera.

"Good morning, ATINY~" He waved. Checking the tablet beside him, he was touched at how many fans turned up so early for him. That made waking up worth it.

The stream went on like any other birthday stream, singing a birthday song, blowing out the candles and cutting the cake, then hearing messages and voice notes from the members.

"You can't wait for the hoodie? I can't wait to see all of you get it and wear it. Please post it so I can see." He read the comments. Mingi avoided questions that directly asked about you, not that he was ashamed or anything, he just respected your want for privacy.

"I don't know what I plan to do for the rest of the day. Maybe we'll go for dinner...?" He shrugged.

"We still have some time before the stream ends so I'll unwrap presents and answer more questions." Mingi smiled as the staff brought over the presents.

"Let's see. We'll start with this-"

"Appa!" Mingi's head shot up and he blinked at the sudden shout. It sounded a lot like Jooyun.

"Hold on, ATINY." Mingi stood up to look over the staff members and set up. Yunho was standing there with a grin, dressed in plain clothes as he held Jooyun's hand. The two of them waved to Mingi.

"Yunho just appeared with Jooyun." Mingi informed.

"Woah, the comments are going crazy." Mingi noted at the fast moving comments, all the fans wanting to see Jooyun.

"Come here. It's okay." Mingi waved the two over, unable to hide his smile. It was his best friend and his son, of course he was happy. Yunho came over, carefully leading Jooyun over the wires. Jooyun appeared on screen, his height just tall enough to let his eyes able to peek over the table.

"Aigo. There we go, you can see better like this." Mingi lifted Jooyun onto his lap. Jooyun still hugged his Tyudeongi close to his body, looking around in confusion.

"Hello, ATINY~ Did you all wish Princess Mingki a happy birthday?" Yunho bowed and waved with a friendly smile.

"Say hello, buddy." Mingi whispered. Jooyun turned his head to scan the room then looked up at his father.

"Hello to who?" He asked. Yunho and Mingi couldn't help but laugh.

"The fans are watching through the camera." Yunho explained, reaching out of ruffle Jooyun's hair. Jooyun still looked a little lost but followed his uncle's instructions, waving and bowing his head.

"Good boy." Mingi pinched Jooyun's cheek. The staff pushed a small chair for Yunho to sit.

It wasn't long before Mingi and Yunho bid goodbye to the fans. They were disappointed but they already overran their planned time with Yunho and Jooyun appearing. With waves and goodbyes, the stream was turned off.

"Happy birthday! Were you sur... prised?" Jooyun asked Mingi.

"Yeah, I was. But buddy, are you here on your own? Where's mama?" Mingi carried Jooyun out of the filming area as the staff were trying to pack up. Jooyun shrugged and turned to Yunho.

"(y/n) knew you were streaming so she texted me. She was called in for a work emergency so she dropped Jooyun off." Yunho explained.

"Oh..." Mingi nodded, checking his phone. You hadn't even texted him.

Mingi couldn't really complain. There were multiple times whereby he had to choose work over you, Jooyun and special dates. And you've never once made him feel guilty about it.

"Shall we grab brunch?" Yunho suggested, seeing how Mingi tried his best to hide his disappointment.

"Yes! Yes!" Jooyun jumped up and down excitedly. The plan was to go home but if you weren't there, Mingi might as well go for brunch.

"Okay but you're paying." Mingi chuckled. Yunho saluted and went to wait with Jooyun while Mingi changed out of his prepared clothes and wiped off the make up. Once he was in plain clothes, Mingi gratefully bowed to all the staff that were there for coming early to help him with the stream.

"Have a nice birthday, Mingi sshi." They all waved and bowed. Before stepping out of the room, Mingi sent you another text and tucked his phone into his pocket.

"Let's go, you two." Mingi called out to his best friend and son, who were busy making funny faces to take selfies.

"There we go." Mingi fastened Jooyun to his booster seat. He sat in the back with him while Yunho sat in the passenger seat.

RINGGGGG

"Hey, beautiful." Mingi answered, leaning back in his seat. He was glad that you called. Some sort of worry stirred within him after you hadn't replied to any of his texts.

"Hey, love. Sorry, I just dropped Jooyun off without any warning. It's... hectic." The guilt, regret and sadness in your voice was enough to tell Mingi that you were already making yourself feel bad.

"No, don't apologise, baby. I'm not angry. He had a great time with Yunho and the staff." Mingi chuckled.

"I'm glad to hear that... Ugh, I've got to go, I'll talk to you later." You seemed rushed and hung up before he could even reply. Mingi pursed his lips, he knew it wasn't your fault but he still felt a sinking in his chest.

"Why the long face?" Yunho asked.

"She hasn't wished me... And I guess I expected to spend my birthday with her and Jooyun but she got called for work." Mingi shrugged, trying to brush it off.

"But I know I can't say anything. She has always been forgiving and understanding when I have to put work first." Mingi continued.

"That's true. (y/n)'s one of a kind. I would have dumped you." Yunho teased with a snicker.

"Yah, my son is here." Mingi rolled his eyes. Trust Yunho to know how to put a smile on Mingi's face. When their manager pulled up outside the cafe, Yunho helped Jooyun out of his car seat.

"Thanks again, hyung." Mingi went to hug the manager.

"You're welcome, Mingi ah. Oh, and happy birthday from me and my wife." The manager took a money envelope out and handed it to him.

"Hyung, you know I can't." Mingi shook his head, wanting to refuse the monetary gift.

"Just take it. My wife will kill me if I go back with it." He chuckled. Mingi conceeded with a nod, he usually put all of his birthday money into the account you and him set up for Jooyun. He wanted the money to go to a good cause and this was his good cause, ensuring a future for Jooyun.

"Appa!" Jooyun called. Mingi tucked the money envelope into his clutch and headed to follow the two into the cafe.

"I want waffles!" Jooyun said.

"Magic word?" Mingi reminded.

"Please! Waffles!" He added amidst his excited giggling. Mingi chuckled and patted Jooyun's head. The 3 found a booth seat tucked in the corner, granting them a little more privacy.

"I'M A HORRIBLE PERSON!" You wailed, throwing your phone aside as you fell back onto the couch.

"Yes, you are." Wooyoung poked his head out of the kitchen to reply. You poked an eye open and nearly gave him the finger.

"Ignore him. You're not a horrible person, (y/n). Why would you say that?" Yeosang asked, sitting beside you and taking your hand into his lap to comfort you.

"Mingi sounded so sad on the phone. He's probably disappointed I'm at 'work' or that I haven't even wished him happy birthday. How can I make him so sad on his birthday?" You pouted, falling against Yeosang's shoulder.

"You're like Jooyun throwing a tantrum." Jongho said.

"Shut it. I hate you all." You hissed. Safe to say, you got along really well with the Ateez members.

"What did we do?" Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, gesturing to himself, San and Hongjoong. But honestly, they were used to you bickering with Wooyoung and Jongho.

"Let's just get this done before they come home early." You rubbed your temples.

Yes, this was all a plan to surprise Mingi for his birthday. You were initially unsure about it but the boys assured you it'll be fine.

"I need help wrapping his presents. They got delivered earlier today." You said. San followed you to the room to help you bring the stack of presents out.

"Wow, talk about overboard." Hongjoong whistled.

"Well, I blame all of you for making me stressed with this genius plan of yours. I felt like I needed to buy all this because I felt bad for making him upset on his birthday." You frowned before going to retrieve all the wrapping paper. There were different ones, all leftovers from Jooyun's presents.

"He'll be fine. He has Yunho and Jooyun there with him. That's all he needs." Wooyoung teased you. He always liked to joke that Yunho was Mingi's number 1 person.

"Just make the cake or I'll bash your face into it." You threatened through gritted teeth.

"Captain, she's threatening me." Wooyoung complained to Hongjoong, who just sighed and facepalmed.

"Uh, hang on, San. Some of the deliveries aren't presents for Mingi. I haven't had the chance to sort them." You said, checking the different invoices and delivery slips.

"I'm guessing this Aniteez one isn't a present?" San raised an eyebrow, holding up the box.

"Oh, yeah. Jooyun felt bad for not having Bbyongming so he wanted one. And I ordered Ddeongbyeoli's new yellow coat." You showed.

"Jooyun's getting Bbyongming while you're still hugging Ddeongbyeoli? I wonder who is the mature one." Jongho asked.

"I don't like your tone. And please, as if Jooyun will give up Tyudeongi. They're like best friends. So don't bring Byeoli into this." You scoffed. Seonghwa could only watch in amusement as you spoke fondly of his Aniteez character.

"Mingi's texting me." You paused the gift wrapping, a sad look on your face as you looked at Mingi's texts. He sent you pictures of Jooyun and him enjoying brunch.

"Aww, look at them." You showed the photos to San, who smiled softly at the father and son.

"Come, let me reply." Seonghwa took your phone to help you reply much to your protest.

'Enjoy yourselves, you two. - (y/n)'

Mingi looked at your reply. It was so... dry and unlike you. As Yunho went to pay the bill, Mingi was left the stew in his thoughts. Did he perhaps do something to upset you?

No, not that he can think of. Or did you just forget his birthday?

For a long time, Mingi did say that to him, a birthday was like any other day. He didn't want you to go out of your way to plan something big for him, he enjoyed just being with you and Jooyun.

But now that you hadn't wished him or spent time with him on his birthday, he was feeling a little hollow. Maybe you were busy and forgot, which is completely understandable. You've been juggling large work assignments and Jooyun since Mingi was always busy with work or overseas.

"Appa, are you okay?" Jooyun tugged on his father's sleeve with a small tilt of his head.

"I'm fine, buddy." Mingi smiled, combing Jooyun's hair back. Yunho returned to the table after having paid for brunch. Both father and son thanked him for the meal.

"Shall we go hang out at home?" Mingi asked, gathering his things and standing up, helping Jooyun off the chair.

"Not yet. There's somewhere we have to go first." Yunho smiled with a glint in his eye.

"What are you planning, Yun...?" Mingi knew Yunho long enough to know that look. Yunho innocently shrugged and guided the two out of the cafe. He booked a car, not telling Mingi the address.

"Samchon, where are we going?" Now Jooyun was confused too. And Mingi knew Yunho wouldn't ignore Jooyun.

"It's a surprise." Yunho giggled, putting a finger to his lips.

"I like surprises!" Jooyun cheered. Mingi wanted to facepalm, he had hoped that Jooyun would pressed Yunho more for the answer as to where they were headed. That was when the car pulled up in front of a mall. But not any ordinary mall, a mall with high end stores.

"You already know we're here for your present." Yunho nudged Mingi, who rubbed the back of his neck, the realisation sinking in. Why else would they be here?

"Good afternoon." The door man at one of the shops welcomed them.

"Hi, appointment for Jeong Yunho." Yunho said, showing the lady inside the reservation on his phone.

"Oh, yes. Mr Jeong. Please take a seat, can I get you anything to drink in the mean time? Coffee, tea, champagne or juice for the boy?" The lady asked.

"Two iced coffees, please. And yes, a juice box for my nephew too." Yunho ordered.

"Of course." She bowed and walked away. Mingi kept Jooyun on his lap, not wanting him to wander around.

"Look, appa! A doggy like Tyudeongi." Jooyun kicked his feet as he saw one of the fancy cloth animals that people would buy and decorate their houses with.

"Yeah, it is. But don't touch it, okay?" Mingi said. Jooyun nodded obediently. When the lady came, he received the juice box and took a sip while Mingi drank his coffee. The store manager of the store came out to greet them. Mingi sat Jooyun on the chair to shake hands with the suited male.

"Happy birthday, Mr Song." He wished.

"Thanks." Mingi smiled. Before they could get what they came for, the staff came out with a small cake and candles, all of them clapping and singing happy birthday.

"Cake!" Jooyun exclaimed happily.

"Thank you, thank you." Mingi bowed to everyone and closed his eyes to make a quick wish before blowing the candles.

"We will box the cake for you." The store manager nodded to one of the employees, who brought the cake away. After that, he wheeled out a coat rack with a single coat.

"Wow... Is this for me?" Mingi was in awe, feeling the material of the black coat.

"Yes, custom cashmere coat. Dark red silk lining." The manager continued to list the details of the coat.

"You did all this?" Mingi turned to his best friend, who nodded his head. Mingi walked over, engulfing Yunho in a big hug. He knew this coat must not have been cheap and every small detail had been customised by Yunho.

"Try it on." Yunho said. The manager placed the coat onto Mingi's shoulders and he went to look at the mirror. It complimented Mingi's frame well.

"It feels amazing and sits nicely on my shoulders." He ran his fingers against the material.

"I'm happy to hear that. You look great, Mr Song." The manager complimented, making Mingi's ears heat up.

Mingi liked that it was simple looking on the outside, like a regular black coat. Only he and Yunho will know all the effort that was put into designing and planning this coat.

"Appa looks so cool~" Jooyun sang.

"Thanks, buddy." Mingi chuckled. He snapped a photo and sent it to you, not mentioning it was a gift from Yunho.

"If there are no adjustments you need to make, Mr Song, you are welcomed to take the coat home today." The manager smiled. Mingi turned to Yunho.

"It's up to you." Yunho shrugged. Mingi nodded to the manager, he can't wait to show it to you in real life. After removing the coat, Mingi passed it to the manager, who folded it and wrapped it up neatly, tying everything together with a ribbon. Mingi and Yunho received the paper bag with a bow.

"Come on, Joo." Mingi held his hand out to his son, who quickly ran over to hold his hand.

"Maybe if (y/n) is done with work, we could swing by and pick her up before going home." Mingi thought out loud as he walked.

'Wow, that coat looks great on you! But you're handsome with or without the coat anyway <3 And no need to pick me, I'll see you at home? - (y/n)'

'And I'm quite tired. Can we just get takeout tonight? - (y/n)'

Now, that sounded like you. Mingi smiled to himself as Yunho hailed a cab for the 3 of them.

But you still hadn't wished him or showed any signs of realising what day it was. So at that point, Mingi assumed you genuinely forgot. It's fine, as long as you were not angry or upset with him.

"Where are we going now?" Jooyun asked his father and uncle.

"Going home to see mama." Mingi replied. Just like Mingi, Jooyun was obsessed with you. Therefore, after hearing your name, Jooyun's eyes lit up with excitement. Of course, Jooyun loves both his parents but he was a mama's boy.

"Yay! I missed mama." Jooyun giggled as they got into the cab. Mingi nodded in agreement. Half his birthday was gone and he had yet to speak to you face to face.

When the cab pulled up to the apartment building, Yunho watched the father and son excitedly head upstairs to the house.

"You two are so alike sometimes, it's scary." He laughed as Mingi keyed in the code for the house.

"Shh, I think mama might be asleep, buddy. So let's be quiet." Mingi whispered to Jooyun when he noticed all the lights were off. Until the lights turned on.

"SURPRISE!" You and the other Ateez members jumped out. Mingi's eyes widened in surprise.

"What- How? I- What?" He blinked in confusion.

"The boys made me lie to you and give you the cold shoulder to surprise you. I wasn't at the office." You chuckled, much to the protest of the Ateez boys. When his eyes fell on you, Mingi crossed the room and pulled you into a hug. He buried his face into your shoulder while you squeezed him.

"I thought you were mad at me or something." He mumbled.

"Ah, that was the boys stealing my phone to reply to you. Why would I be mad at you, hmm?" You pulled away to cup his cheeks, a soft smile on your face.

"Happy birthday, Song Mingi." You wished and tip toed to give him a sweet kiss while his arms moved to wrap around your waist.

"Yah, in case you forgot, we're still here. Plus, there's a kid in the room!" Wooyoung screeched.

"Aish, let them have their moment. They haven't seen each other and it's Mingi's birthday." San grabbed Wooyoung, putting him in a headlock, making him yell.

"Sorry I was made to be mean to you on your birthday. I feel awful." You pouted with a small frown, stroking his cheek.

"It's all good, beautiful. I'm just glad you didn't forget my birthday nor are you mad at me." He said.

"I would never forget your birthday, Min. Remember, I play Ateez Superstar? Your birthday event has been going on." You giggled. Apart from being Mingi's wife and the mother of his child, you were also a dedicated ATINY.

"Mama!" Jooyun finally ran over to hug your legs. You bent down to hug Jooyun, showering him in kisses while Mingi went to greet the other members.

"I did good?" Jooyun asked.

"You did amazing, baby. You and samchon. Good job." You patted his head. He laughed shyly, throwing his arms around your neck.

"Now that Mingi is here, we can eat!" Yeosang said with delight. You nodded and gestured for the boys to start eating. Mingi wasn't rushed, he came over to hug you.

"I missed you the whole day." He whispered, pressing his lips to your temple and letting it linger there for a bit.

"I missed you too." You hugged him tightly.

"Okay, lovebirds. Better get food before it's all gone." Seonghwa laughed with two full plates in his hands. You didn't need to worry, knowing someone will help Jooyun or share food with him.

"Galbi!" Jooyun pointed excitedly and San grabbed two pieces to put onto the plate that Jongho was holding, presumably Jooyun's plate. Seeing San help with getting Jooyun's food settled, you and Mingi went to get your own food. Mingi's arm stayed around your waist the entire time.

"Separate them for half a day and they can't seem to keep their hands off each other." Yunho chuckled.

"Jooyun's going to get another sibling tonight." Wooyoung smirked.

"Don't say that in front of the kid!" Hongjoong slapped his arm. Jooyun blinked innocently, focused on the piece of meat Seonghwa had cut up for him.

"My baby eats so well." You came to sit with Jooyun and cooed at him. He grinned at you, making you pinch his cheek.

"It's my birthday. Only look at me." Mingi drew your attention back to him with a childish pout.

"I know it's your birthday but Jooyun is your child too." You shot Mingi a flat look. Both Mingi and Jooyun always liked to fight for your attention. The two of them arguing on who hugs you, etc.

The rest of the party was spent just chilling, the boys even played some video games. Hongjoong had moved to the room with Jooyun to play with him and you went to check on them, mostly wanting Jooyun to have his nap.

"Min! Come look." You whispered, pointing to Jooyun's room. You saw Hongjoong and Jooyun sleeping together in his bed, the both fast asleep.

"The captain can really sleep anywhere." Mingi scoffed softly.

"That's not what I meant..." You slapped your forehead. Snapping a quick picture of the two, you pushed Mingi out of the room.

"No wonder the two of them were playing so quietly in the room." Yeosang chuckled.

"Shall we cut the cake after Jooyun and Hongjoong wake up from their nap?" You asked the rest with a giggle as Mingi grabbed your waist to make you sit on his lap on the couch.

"They both need naps or they'll be grumpy." Jongho joked. Seonghwa laughed and nodded in agreement.

"Don't you wanna play?" You asked Mingi softly, seeing the boys engage in a game of Mario Kart.

"No, I'd rather be here." He grinned, leaning in to press his forehead against your temple. You slung your arm around his neck and gave him a peck on the cheek. Honestly, there was nowhere else you'd rather be but to be close to Mingi. With his hectic schedule, you hardly had time for each other.

"Aish!" Wooyoung cursed when San threw a shell at him. You were so glad Jooyun wasn't here. The boys, including Mingi, have been caught using 'bad' language around Jooyun before.

"Shh, Jooyun and Joong are sleeping." You shushed him.

"You just get back to smooching with Mangi." Wooyoung scoffed in reply. You felt your cheeks heat up.

"Yah, Jung Wooyoung." Mingi scolded when you scooched out of his lap in embarrassment. You laughed and went to the kitchen to get more drinks for everyone.

"Baby~" Mingi whined, trapping you in his arms between his body and the counter.

"Why are you whining?" You grasped his chin. He held your wrist to move your hand as he leaned down to kiss you.

"Wanna be with you." He mumbled, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck. You stroked the back of his head.

"You ARE with me, that's why we have a son. A son that you're sounding a lot like right now." You laughed, shaking your head at how silly Mingi was being. Jooyun already looks like Mingi so when the two whine, they looked even more similar.

"Alright, let me fix more drinks and snacks for the boys." You patted his hip.

"Let me help. I'm sure you've been busy planning this surprise and putting up with the boys at the same time." Mingi kissed your temple and tried to take over.

"No, you're the birthday boy. It's fine." You stroked his cheek but Mingi used his height, holding the juice jug away from you.

"Alright, you do the drinks and I'll do the snacks." You said, beginning to get some snacks together.

It didn't take long for Jooyun to wake up from his nap. Hongjoong came to get you and Mingi but Mingi beat you to it, going to his room to comfort him.

"Sleep well, buddy?" Mingi asked, sitting Jooyun on his lap and brushing his hair out of his face. You went in to see the two.

"Mama..." Jooyun reached out to you. You sent Mingi a smug smile and picked Jooyun up into your arms from Mingi's lap. He buried his face into your chest. Once Jooyun was settled and a feeling more sociable, you brought him out so you could cut Mingi's birthday cake. He didn't want to leave your side though.

"We're cutting appa's cake, baby." You said to him. Jooyun looked on curiously but still hugged your leg, his other arm wrapped around his precious Tyudeongie.

"Come." Mingi lifted Jooyun up into his arms as San lit the candles. Wooyoung took a video of everyone singing the birthday song.

"Make a wish, Mingi." You smiled.

"I already have everything I could ever wish for." Mingi smiled back, leaning to steal a peck.

"Boooooooo!!" The other boys jeered, making you giggle. Mingi rolled his eyes but leaned down to blow out the candles, making everyone clap and cheer.

"Picture time!" Yunho said and the boys all took turns to take picture with Mingi while you cut the cake. Yeosang and Seonghwa helped.

When the cake and presents were done, the boys helped to clean up before leaving so you and Mingi could spend the evening together. Jooyun, exhausted from the activities from the entire day, went to bed even earlier than he usually does.

"He's asleep?" Mingi sat up from bed as you came back into the room. You nodded and climbed into bed with him.

"Come here, my love." Mingi pulled you to him.

"Happy birthday, Song Mingi. I hope you enjoyed yourself and had a good birthday. Thank you for being you." You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. Mingi squeezed your waist.

"Thank you for today. Even if the boys' plan was to make you ignore me, the party itself was great. Couldn't have asked for a better way to spend my birthday." Mingi smiled softly, kissing the top of your head.

"I'm glad." You giggled.

"You know, I realised something." Mingi suddenly said. You tilted your head at him.

"I always say my birthday doesn't mean much to me but today, I think it does. Because it's when I get to spend an entire day with you." He hugged you tightly.

"Oh, Mingi. You can always spend time with me, not only on your birthday." You stroked his cheek with your thumb.

"Mm-mm, it's different. I don't know how to describe it, maybe it's because I know we won't be interrupted by our jobs or anyone else on this day. It's just a day where we can be in our own bubble. With Jooyun, of course. I hate when my job takes me away from the both of you." He smiled sadly.

"I know it's hard but if it weren't for your job, we wouldn't have met. We may spend time apart but you know you'll always have the two of us to come home to." You smiled softly.

"I know. I am so grateful for everything you do for me while I barely give anything to you and Jooyun in return." He nodded.

"Don't say that, you do a lot for me too, Mingi. And Jooyun loves you dearly." You giggled.

"I love you both so much. You're already everything I could ever wish for and on top of that, you gave me Jooyun. Thank you." He leaned down to press his lips against yours.

"Are you going to tell me what you wished for?" You asked.

"I thought you're not supposed to tell what you wished for or else it won't come true?" Mingi teased.

"I'm sure there are exceptions, such as to the mother of your child." You rolled your eyes. Mingi laughed and hugged your waist, burying his face against your chest like Jooyun does.

"Okay, I'm not lying. I really didn't wish for anything. I didn't see the need to. I already have you, I have Jooyun. There's nothing else I want but for the both of you to be happy and healthy." Mingi smiled softly, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"As long as we have you, we'll always be happy and healthy." You hummed, feeling your heart swell at his words.

"You've raised Jooyun well, I'm excited to watch him grow up with you. And perhaps, even watch other children grow up with him." Mingi squeezed your hand.

"We've raised Jooyun well. I couldn't have done this alone, Min. Don't shortchange what you've done too." You stroked his head.

"And when the time comes, when we're ready, we can discuss having more children." You added.

"Really? You would have more? With me?" He met your eyes, his own sparkling with anticipation and excitement. You burst out laughing, cupping his cheeks in your hands.

"Of course with you! Who else? And I'm not making promises but I am open to the idea of giving Jooyun siblings." You said.

"Also, I noticed that you said 'siblings' plural so that means you're open to having more than one more. Now, I really can't wait for that to happen." Mingi smirked playfully and squeezed your waist, making your cheeks heat up.

~

Masterlist

[harrysfolklore]

dog love - blurb

day 3!! if you’re still following along ilysm okay?💗

GIF BY @delicatepointofview <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

//

Yours and Harry's relationship was still a secret to the world.

Even though both of you were famous for your careers and fans and media were always following your every step, you have managed to keep what you had to yourselves for six months now.

Rumors were out there, for sure. And they started when you decided to be in the crowd with Harry's friends for his final show in Reggio Emilia, instead of hiding from prying eyes backstage.

However, no one had really caught up that you were in a relationship, people just assumed that you were friends and you wanted to see the show.

Right now, you and Harry were spending a few months together in his London home, you decided to do that since soon you both would have to go back to your busy careers and be away from each other. You basically moved in to his place, with your dog included.

"Milo! Come over here buddy!" You called out for him, sitting on the den and watching play around Harry's backyard, "You're such a good boy!" You cooed at him when he curled up to you.

"What are you pals doing?" Harry asked, walking through the sliding door that connected the kitchen and the backyard, sitting down next to you and pecking your shoulder quickly.

"We're just hanging out over here," you turned your face to look at him, matching his soft smile, "But I think Milo is eager to go outside, poor thing couldn't go on his walk yesterday because of the rain."

"I can take him for a walk," Harry said, and you noticed that he was indeed dressed up to go outside, "I'm actually meeting with Brad in a few minutes, I can take him with me."

"Would you?" you asked, and he pecked your cheek, standing up and offering his hand so you could join him.

"Of course, love. I can pick up some wine and food on the way back for dinner, you stay here and relax."

You pecked his lips softly before speaking, "You're a dream," he smiled and pecked your lips again, "And you, be a good boy for H, okay?" you knelled down to pet Milo, and with a final kiss to Harry's lips they were off.

You took in Harry's words and decided to relax since you had the house to yourself, you filled up the bathtub, lit up a scented candle and put on some music, leaving your phone behind as you took a bubble bath.

When you were done in the bathroom and clad in one of Harry's soft hoodies, you grabbed your phone and decided to lurk on social media as you waited for Harry and Milo to come home.

You opened Tiktok, your explore page showing you some Harry videos, cute dogs and even some edits of yourself. When you got bored of scrolling there, you decided to open Twitter, which wasn't your favorite platform at all but every now and then you got there to see what fans were on about.

However, you were surprised to find out that what fans have been discussing over the last few hours was Harry walking your dog.

At first, you found funny that his fans were trying to decode if he had adopted a dog, or where did the dog had come from, not knowing hat it was your dog and you were practically living with him.

However, your mood changed when you scrolled down and saw that they somehow connected the dots and found out that the dog with Harry and Brad was your Milo.

You shook your head, surprised by how quickly fans could put the  pieces together, and not sure about how to feel about yours and Harry's relationship being exposed by your dog.

As in on cur, you heard Harry and Milo walking up the stairs to the bedroom, and soon you saw both of them enter the room.

"We're back, love!" Harry cheerfully said, sitting on the end of the bed and Milo staying close to him, "Brought the wine and some food, are you hungry yet?"

"I think Milo just exposed our relationship." You simply said, laughing and how comical the situation sounded out loud.

"What do you mean?" a confused look appeared on Harry's face, and you showed him your phone so he could see.

After a few minutes of scrolling to your Twitter and seeing what fans were saying, Harry couldn't help but find the situation comical too.

"Well, that's better than TMZ, right?"

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe @drewrry

[the-s1lly-corner]

Sharing the bed with various CRP characters 1/2

Same song and dance as the cuddling post! If theres any characters you want to see, let me know! If theres also any specific scenarios you want to see dont hesitate to drop them, love doing these kinds of posts

Characters: Slenderman, Splendorman, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Masky, Hoodie, Jeff, Puppeteer

Notes: Reader is GN, can be seen as romantic or platonic

CWs: mentions of blood but it's nothing huge, better safe than sorry though

Slenderman

He hardly ever crawls into bed with you, on nights where he is with you he tends to linger in the corner- or if you insist, he will take a seat on the foot of your bed if you feel the first was.. creepy.. not that this solution is any better- he is never going to lay down, thus, with a broken heart I have to give him the first rating of 1/10, with his only saving grace that he will protect you should anything happen

Splendorman

Unlike his fellow slenderbeing, Splendor is more than willing to crawl into bed and try to lay with you! It's a bit of a tight fit, though, even with him manipulating his body as small as it can get... it can get a little uncomfortable, unfortunately. And spirit can only make someone so comfortable.. 3/10

Eyeless Jack

I personally headcanon that hes on the shorter side- 5'5 to 5'7, so thankfully space isnt an issue! He runs cold, so if the nights are hot hes a good option for a cuddle buddy! But how is he in his sleep? He sleeps like a rock- he doesnt move or shift around all that much so you're unlikely to be disturbed! He.. does snore, though, or at least that's what it loosely is. Its more like gurgling due to any of his gripping goo getting into his throat- not a good noise.. will wake up coughing and spluttering.. 5/10, a pretty average sleeping experience

Laughing Jack

He doesnt need to sleep and he can only pretend sleep for so long before he gets antsy- it takes him a while to understand that you need your sleep and how much you need. He doesnt mind staying in bed and cuddling with you to pass the time- hes very large, warm, and comfy so it's not a terrible set up! Sometimes pretends sleep, complete with a fake snore. A little big for the bed at I feet tall, and sometimes snatches the blanket to fully sell the "fake sleep" thing as well as rag dolling on you 6/10

Masky

He doesnt sleep around you, it's just a little quirk of his that he doesnt let his guard down at all- he doesnt exactly distrust you but its.. complicated. Hesitant when you offer to let him crawl into bed with you, he's rather fond of the little perch hes made in the corner of your room, but you cannot deny that he looks like a sleep paralysis demon to your fuzzy sleepy brain. Still as a corpse in bed, WILL yank the blanket back if you steal it in your sleep 7/10 not very disruptive otherwise

Hoodie

Will crawl into bed with you and get up close to you, loves pulling you close to him during the night. Falls asleep after you do, though he probably watches you in your sleep... smells like wet leaves and mulch 7.5/10, he let's you take his hoodie sometimes or even just crawl into it with him. Does not give a shit if it gets stretched out he can always get another one. Sleeps between you and the door to the bedroom

Jeff

Heavy sleeper and he snores loud, so good luck with that. Probably also a blanket thief. Bounces between staying up all night or falling asleep the second he hits the bed- really it depends on what hes been up to... at least he usually has the manners to take his bloodstained hoodie off before crawling into your bed.. probably kicks in his sleep.. 4/10

Puppeteer

Very hard and very cold, and I don't think he would need to sleep but can if he desires. Wants to be the one cuddled, just make sure to bundle up with some extra blankets so you can stay warm! Doesnt snore but you can hear his joints creak with each movement- you know, puppet stuff.. 5/10, not terrible but not spectacular

[struwberrii]

haikyuu!! at an american high school ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

here are my silly headcanons on how i think the karasuno first years would act if they were american high school students teehee

pt.2 pt.3

ヽ(^◇^*)/

hinata

probably runs to lunch

one of those dorky try hards in gym

wears matching neon nike shorts and tops

literally cries if he ever gets in trouble in class

water bottle flips randomly (he never lands it)

his mom drops him off at school every morning

jumps to touch the top of every doorframe

everyone judges him and thinks hes weird but hes gen the sweetest guy if you ever talk to him

he has a phone he just cant bring it to school guys

offers to do stuff first when the teacher asks (like brings attendance to the office or asks other teachers for dry erase markers)

middle school humor (hes kinda funny sometimes tho lol)

kageyama

lets you copy his homework because he knows its all wrong (or gives you wrong answers on purpose)

wears hoodies everyday even during summer

scared to put lip balm on in public because someone once asked if he was gay because of how he applied it

friends with hinata but is kind of embarrassed of him

girls actually like him but dont talk to him because hes so quiet

probably talks to girls from different schools

plays roblox with the others when they have breaks during practice (he hasnt updated his avatar since 2016)

still reads strictly picture books

also a try hard in gym

still does streaks on snapchat

tsukishima

refuses to acknowledge hinata and kageyama outside of volleyball club (he thinks theyre embarrassing)

constantly gets in trouble for having airbuds in or being on his phone

tries putting girls onto his niche music taste then its just cigarettes after sex

if you arent one of his friends or a pretty person hes probably gonna be rlly mean to you im sorry

has hot topic pins on his bag (yamaguchi forces him to shop there with him and tsuki always ends up walking out with a new pin)

dresses very basic but still nice

bros a bully

tries to correct teachers and make the teacher look dumb

if he can tell he actually hurt your feelings he'll say it was just a joke and gaslight you

him and yamaguchi just talk shit all lunch and study period

walks to like mcdonalds for lunch sometimes

yamaguchi

bully on the DL

the only reason people know hes mean is because tsuki is his best friend

always has fruit for lunch

probably in band and plays literally the biggest instrument in the world

he always smells weirdly minty

has the silliest stickers on everything, his notebooks, laptop, headphones

bought sonny angels for him and tsuki

everyone thinks hes gay

him and yachi are art class buddies

brings his switch to school sometimes

rides his bike to school

lowkey stuck in his 2020 indie phase

yachi

has the cutest stationary

takes all her notes on her ipad and has that paper texture screen protector

ali express warrior

shes the sweetest girl in school

probably a closeted lebanese

already has her drivers permit (probably gonna be the first person in her grade with a license)

packs her own lunches everyday in bento boxes

has a private instagram account with like 20 followers and declines everyone she doesnt know personally

always has lotion, gum, perfume, medicine, chargers, everything. she is not taking any chaces

shes like if the 2019 soft girl pinterest aethetic became a person

reminds teachers about the homework

secretly watches youtube during class

she does NOT play about her art projects

her and yamaguchi trade stickers

probably still uses that 2019 kanken vsco bookbag

⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆

sorry guys half of this list is just me being an extreme hater and projecting

[hotyanderedaddies]

you are legit my fav author on here your stories are amazing, could I possibly request yandere wolf daddy with a forced feminized male reader ( who secretly enjoys it)

and can I be 🪬 anon? :3

[Yandere! Werewolf Daddy x Male! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

"Princess, it's time to wake up," Daddy whispered into your ear as he tightened his hold on you, squeezing you in closer to his hairy chest. He leaned down and placed a large kiss onto your forehead, exaggerating his kissing noises.

You grunted in response, already rolling your eyes at the older werewolf's foolishness.

The big werewolf rolled out from under you and stood up from the bed, stretching his powerful arms over himself. He looked down at you and mock-frowned when he saw that you haven't budged, too tired to get out of bed at such an obscene hour (7 AM).

Daddy crossed his muscled arms over his beefy chest, tsking at you. "Princess," he warned, putting on an authoritative air, "it's time to get up so we can get ready for the day. Now be a good girl and listen to Daddy."

"Shut up..." you whined, shoving the bubblegum pink pillow over your head in frustration.

You heard Daddy utter out a low growl.

Before you knew it, Daddy threw your tiny body over his broad shoulder. He stomped over towards the bathroom, plopping you on your feet in front of the tub.

"I'll lay your clothes out on the bed," Daddy said as he reached over and turned on the hot water for the shower, steam already billowing out. "Unless, you want some of Daddy's help?"

"Pass," you muttered, slamming the bathroom door shut so that you had some semblance of privacy.

As you washed yourself under the hot water of the shower, you couldn't help but sigh as you lathered up your hair with the sickly sweet strawberry scented shampoo. It was such a girly smell and the bottle was even bright pink with flecks of glitter garnishing it- you wouldn't have been caught dead using it at the gym with all of your buddies around.

Still, even you had to admit that it did smell a little good. You couldn't resist taking a big whiff of the sweet strawberries as you lathered up your longer hair that Daddy forbade you to cut.

Normally, you opted for buzzcuts since it was an easier style to manage, but now your hair was shaggy and starting to cover up your ears due to its longer-than-normal length.

After rinsing out the suds from your hair, you grabbed your equally sweet smelling body wash (this one shaped like a red candied apple), and washed yourself.

It's been four months since Daddy stole you.

You'd been packing up your stuff to move out of your freshman dorm at college. You'd been all set to leave the next morning and had lied down to get some much needed sleep.

That'd been when Daddy had snuck in through your open window, and had snatched you out of bed.

He'd taken you to the cabin he calls "Home", where he'd claimed that you were soulmates and where he dotes on you hand and foot...

and where he insists on calling you "Princess", "Baby Girl", "Sweetiepie", et cetera.

Daddy dresses you up in the girliest clothes that he can find, and he keeps on giving you gifts that would traditionally belong on the more feminine side of the spectrum (roses, jewelry, vibrators).

It was mortifying for a manly athlete such as yourself... or at least, it used to be.

Despite your annoyance, even you had to admit that having such a strong, hunky, muscly wolf daddy pampering you constantly was sorta nice.

Ignoring your irritation for the time being, you stepped out of the shower and dried yourself off. You walked back into the bedroom and nearly wailed at the hot pink hoodie and light blue skinny jeans that Daddy had picked out for you to wear. It was a rather tame outfit considering that there were no frills or glitter this time; but you were never a big fan of pink to be honest.

Still, not wanting another spanking, you yanked on the clothes, surprised at how soft the fabric of the hoode was. Despite its garish color, the fabric was soft to the touch like fleece, and you could definitely smell Daddy's musk on it from when he absolutely rolled around on it to scent it.

As you examined yourself in the mirror, the bedroom door swung open and Daddy sauntered in, wearing tattered blue jeans and no shirt, allowing his buff chest muscles to be on display.

The split second his eyes landed on you, Daddy rushed forward and wrapped you up in his arms, nuzzling you lovingly.

"You look so cute, Princess," Daddy gushed happily. "You're Daddy's Baby Girl, right?"

The way Daddy looked at you with such love and adoration in his eyes, combined with the softness of the hoodie, the sweet scent of the strawberry shampoo, and the firmness of Daddy's large muscles caused you to completely melt into the wolf daddy's hold.

"Yeah, yeah," you mumbled, blushing slightly as you rested your head on Daddy's chest, hearing the deep rumble of contentment as he kissed your forehead.

[hoodedjelly]

my timmy adult design RAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!!

im so happy about his design and i love it so he is literally just a guy.

more about my personal headcanons: - got that adhd - bisexual non-binary he/they - he is literally the most average with body type im gonna be honest. but he wears oversized hoodie with layers so he got that rounded shape. - he doesn't always where that bookbag. - he doesn't have cosmo and wanda anymore but he does work in fairy world with chloe as an ambassador (this idea was completely ripped off from @chocowhomps i loved it too much) - so he can't make wishes anymore but he is able to see wanda n cosmo and remember his childhood (that good o' timmy loophole) - COSMO AND WANDA ARE HIS PARENTS RAAAHHHH - which doesn't really change too much for him when his life time best friend/boyfriend is a genius inventor /hj - also yes i got that jimmytimmy blood in me. they have been dating since middle school and moved in together when timmy was old enough - but he basically has been living with jimmy his whole high school life, visiting very frequently. (wanted to get away from his parents and life any chance he got) - he played in a football team in high school and he sucked a tit, but he still loved it - he is a full football/sports nerd - he is also a full comic book nerd , his comic book buddy to info dump on is sheen! - timmy made friendship bracelets for the main 4, the first one he made was for jimmy :3

wanda: oh come on timmy, they're fun! timmy: this stuff is for girls wanda: just give it a try, you always can make friendship bracelets

timmy: yo jimmy i made this for you jimmy: woah!

[arachine]

. . . 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 ! ˚₊✩‧₊

— pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

general tags: college! au, established relationship, fluff, suggestive

content warnings: period cramps, reader is a baby, ellie is patient, kissing, allusions to sex, brief mention of dealer!ellie + not proofread and also not my best work bc i was in pain !

note: this is super self-indulgent bc i am, unfortunately, on my monthly, and so, i am making it everyone’s problem >.<

ellie’s annoyed. actually, she’s concerned—maybe, slightly, kind of more than that too, but right now, she’s annoyed. this wasn’t like you—not answering messages, not answering calls.

she’d understand it if you were busy, especially since finals season was steadily approaching as the days passed, but she knew you didn’t have any plans today. that much was confirmed the last time she’d spoken to you, which was, if she could recall (she could recall it perfectly), last night at 8:00 p.m.

future wife 👰‍♀️: gn baby, see you tomorrow for breakfast! get some sleep ok? <33

ellie: alr goodnight baby. i’ll come get you at 9 ok? don’t oversleep this time, wanna get some french toast before all the athletes take it :/

future wife 👰‍♀️: never gonna let me live it down, huh?

ellie: never!

future wife 👰‍♀️: god alr, i won’t oversleep!!! promise :3 now gn fr this time!!! gts!!!

ellie: ok bossy i’m going to sleep 🫡 love you

that was the last message she’d sent to you that night. this morning, however, she made an effort to send you a slew of follow-up texts before making her way over to your dorm:

ellie: good morning sexy, you up?

ellie: it’s french toast time ☝🏻

ellie: don’t tell me you’re sleeping…

there was five minutes sent in-between each message, and yet, still no response. that’s when she got the bright idea to call.

“alright, this should wake her up,” she raised the phone to her ear, pacing around her apartment while waiting for the line to go through. to her dismay, it rung a few times before going straight to voicemail—to which she almost got excited over because you’ve got one of those annoying ass voicemails that sound like someone picked up the line.

“hey […], this is (name). sorry you can’t reach me right now, but leave a message and i’ll get back to you as soon as i c—”

“fucking hell.” ellie pinches the knot between her brows and sighs, ending the call before voicemail you can finish your sentence. again, she calls, thinking this time you’ll answer, but to no avail. it goes right to voicemail.

“the fuck…” she doesn’t even bother leaving a message. beelines right to her closet and grabs her sneaks, a hoodie, and her wallet, then heads out of her apartment building and begins the trek to your dormitory.

when she gets there, she buzzes in with her student keycard, and pads right up to the security desk. just as she’s about to open her mouth, one of the guards sitting interrupts her.

“can i see your proof of residence, please?” he says blankly, raising a fig bar up to his mouth.

“randy, really? you know me, i’m here almost every other day—just without my girlfriend—who i’m actually here to see,” she raises a finger, forearms leaning forward over the desk. randy feigns indifference, and opts to stuff the last of his bar in his mouth.

“you’re not a resident here, ellie. sorry, but you know the rules.”

“how about you shove the rules up your a—actually, that’s alright. my buddy right here will sign me in as a guest.” she grins devilishly at the dark haired man across the lobby, blinking once, twice, before flashing him a smile.

“jesse! my life saver, my best-friend, my messiah, my—“

“what do you want, ellie?” he rolls his eyes, pulling out his student keycard to flash randy. ellie purses her lips as if she’s been found out, then pulls jesse aside by the cloth of his jacket. she leans in real close so that what she says is out of earshot.

“sign me in as a guest and i’ll give you free weed during your next visit,” she bargains, wiggling her brows like she knows the offer is too good to pass up. jesse doesn’t answer her right away. instead, opts to tease her. puts his index finger on his chin, and opens his stance as if he’s really mulling it over. ellie’s not impressed.

a beat, then, he shrugs, mumbling a quick ‘better keep your word williams’.

ellie grins, something real big and cheshire-like, because she knows him. who’d be stupid enough to pass up free weed? exactly, no one. especially not a stressed college student, that’s for sure.

“thanks man, you’re really doing me a solid, you know,” she pats his back, to which he mutters a knowing ‘yeah, yeah, whatever’. she watches intently as he signs her in under his name, then makes a face at randy when she hands over her student keycard for him to keep.

“see ya later rand’!” the auburn haired girl says with the flick of a hand, turning the corner of the desk to get to the elevators.

“yeah, whatever.”

. . .

once the elevator comes to a halt on your floor, ellie gives jesse a final thank you before departing. as she walks down the winding hallway, she can’t help but to think the worst. what if you were unconscious? what if you’d been axe-murdered? what if you’d been kidnapped? all very unlikely, she knows, but not impossible.

when her mind sifts through a few more frightening scenarios, she realizes she’s already made it to your door. should she knock? she feels like she should knock, but then she figures if all her previous attempts to wake you up were unsuccessful, then who’s to say a few measly knocks would do the trick?

she decides against it. instead, she unhooks her carabiner from her jeans and fiddles around with her set of keys until she finds the spare you’d given her. until now, she’d never used it. the day you’d given it to her, you’d told her it was strictly for ‘emergencies’, and what better time to use it than now? this was surely an emergency, right?

the door unlocks and she immediately goes to twist the knob, pushes the door open and then shuts it closed behind her.

“babe, you here?” she calls out, walking through the kitchen, “you alive?” turns down the hall, “you in one piece?”

a beat. silence—save for the heavy padding of her boots as she makes her way towards your bedroom. the door is cracked open, just by a sliver, but she can see—or at least somewhat make out—the beginnings of a sleeping silhouette.

she pushes the door open and ambles to your bedside. you were fast asleep. curled up into a tight little ball with the duvet pulled up to your chin, and a mean little pout on your lips. it was adorable, and it made ellie’s heart twang with relief. at least now that she was able to verify your safety, she could forget all those terrible thoughts that she was getting herself all worked up over.

“hey, sweet girl,” she cooed, brushing the pad of her thumb over your cheek. your brows cinched in response, but you didn’t move. not even an inch. “baby,” ellie drawled in a sing-song voice.

she let her hand fall from your cheek to your back, and she rubbed it in slow, steady circles in an attempt to rouse you. after a while of this—a combination of her rubbing and cooing—you started to react.

“mmm,” you groaned, curling your knees up higher, “it hurts.”

“what hurts? what’s wrong?” opening your eyes, you were able to pair the voice of concern with a familiar face.

“ellie? what are you doing here?”

she lets a small chuckle escape her lips, then raises a hand to rest atop your head.

“what am i doing here? what are you doing here? had me worried sick about you,” she smooths a hand over your head, “missed our breakfast date.”

sighing, you slap a clammy hand over your head, then reach over ellie to grab your phone from the nightstand.

ten messages. three missed calls.

“god, i’m sorry, bellie. took some midol and melatonin last night so that i could beat these cramps, but i guess they worked a little too good, huh?”

“yeah, you nut.” she takes a glance at your nightstand and picks up the bottle of pills, shakes them around before settling them back down. “how many did you take?”

“just two…maybe three?” ellie’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“three? babe, these are 500 mg. why would you do that? the bottle says take two every six hours, and here you are taking more than the recommended amount, on top of taking melatonin,” she chides, though, it’s more out of genuine concern than it is her actually being upset.

you laugh at your own expense, but it’s short-lived because a second later, you’re clutching for your belly and writhing in pain.

ellie sighs, kicks her boots off and fully climbs up onto the bed and under the covers. once she settles into a comfortable position, she pulls you into her side.

“i know, baby, let me take care of you,” she strokes your back soothingly, “but next time, please don’t take that much. were you planning on sleeping forever?”

“maybe.” you jest, snuggling further into her warmth. admittedly, mixing both of those drugs was kind of stupid—maybe really stupid, but in your defense, you were in pain!—and really desperate. when you have cramps this bad, sometimes death sounds like mercy.

“oh, yeah?” the laugh she lets out is a deep rumble, and you can feel the vibrations of it as you lay on her chest. it’s soothing. a remedy that you should’ve utilized sooner, and you would’ve, had you been in the right headspace.

“mhm…” you purr, looking up at her, at her lips. ellie scans your face for pain, then dips down and pilfers a kiss from your lips. it’s slow, and sweet, and ends far too soon for your liking. before she can pull away, you tug her by the collar of her shirt. look up at her with pleading eyes, and fist it tighter between your knuckles.

“more,” you drawl, pulling her back down to meet your lips. she indulges you, because of course she does, and pushes you onto your back.

“thought,” a kiss, “your,” another, “cramps were bothering you?” she queries, breathless as she holds herself up above your sprawled out body. she thumbs with the hem of your shirt, waits expectantly for you to answer.

“they are,” you say, “so why don’t you make ‘em go away?”

and what kind of girlfriend would she be if did otherwise?

© arachine 2023

[bloatedandalone04]

➪the one where you try to move on and jack comes home.

Part 1

Warnings: angst, fluff, sad times all around

Word Count: 3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

Jack sighed as he entered his house, his eyes glued to his phone as texts flooded the screen. The door shut loudly behind him, making him cringe in hopes he didn’t just accidentally wake his mom up. Deciding not to find out, he quickly walked through the house and towards the kitchen, where the door to the basement was.

He discarded his jacket on the armrest of the couch before falling against it, this thumb scrolling through text message after text message. Some old friends of his were trying to make plans for the weekend, but every idea given was something Jack refused to do. 

Hey, buddy! Congrats on that new movie haha. I was thinking we could go out for breakfast sometime soon, just to catch up.

Hey, Jack, not sure if you remember me, but I just wanted to say I always knew you would make it big as an actor. Let’s meet up soon. 

Hi Jack ;) Saw that movie you were in and just wanted to say you look good. Take me out to dinner sometime?

Man, he regretted not changing his number early on in his career. 

He ignored each message as he opened his contacts and put in his password for his voicemail. His eyes closed when he lifted his hand and brought the phone to his ear, his heart skipping a beat when he heard your voice. 

“Hey, it’s me. Um, you failed the test I gave you. I don’t know what happened to us or what happened to you, but I’m…I’m done,” the way your voice wavered had his heart beating loudly and his eyes stinging. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you, I really wish I was. You meant everything to me and I wish you kept your promise. Good luck with everything. I wish you nothing but the best, and, yeah. I’m done. Goodbye.”

He squeezed his eyes tightly before opening them again, his vision slightly blurred as he kept the phone to his ear. “End of saved messages. To listen to this message again, press one. To delete this message, press two. To save this message, press nine,” his thumb moved and clicked on the same number he had pressed countless times now. “Message will be saved for two days.”

He seriously had no clue what he was going to do when the message deleted itself two days from now. It was, literally, the last thing he had of you as his mom had helped you clear out the clutter you had at his house. The hoodie you got from high school was no longer thrown over the chair in the corner, the pile of your favorite movies had disappeared from its place on the TV stand, the bag of chips he let you keep on the shelf was gone. You had successfully erased yourself from his life.

The only thing left was your voicemail. And the framed picture that was sitting beside the TV. It was the same picture you had beside your bed, and his heart ached as he wonders what you might have done with it. Did you keep it? Is it still on your nightstand? Did you destroy it? Pack it away in a box? Was he the only one with a copy of the picture now?

Each question made his heart burn as he tossed his phone onto the coffee table - his mind going back to when he did that the day he came home. At the time, your own phone was next to his, both powered off as you held each other. 

Now, he was alone. His phone was the only one on the table, and he reached over to grab the pillow you had fallen asleep on too many times to count. He wrapped his arms around it as he fell against the cushions, his face buried in the pillowcase as sleep slowly took over his body. 

-

Jack sighed heavily as he entered his house for the first time in three weeks. It was safe to say he was missing his own bed more than ever at this point and had long since grown sick of hotel rooms. 

He couldn’t wait to fall face first into his sheets on his own bed, in his own room. The only thing that would make it better was if you were there with him. 

The front door shut quietly behind him as he knew his mom was asleep. He pulled out his phone and clicked on your contact. He groaned when he realized what day it was and the plans with you that he had completely forgotten about. 

He moved his thumbs to type out the most heartfelt apology ever written and offer to make it up to you tomorrow, but paused when he saw the notification at the bottom of the screen.

1 New Voicemail - Urgent.

Jack clicked on the message and put in his password before bringing his phone up to his ear. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting the voicemail to be about, but it definitely wasn’t you breaking up with him. He felt his heart skip a beat at how sad and defeated you sounded as he replayed the message two more times, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

He saved the message before clicking on your contact again, his heart further deflating at the texts you had sent him earlier in the day. 

9:32 AM

My girl <3: Hey, you’re home now, right? Are you still wanting to go out today?

The vagueness of your text should’ve been enough to set off alarms in his head. The fact you asked if he was still wanting to see you made his heart ache with guilt and regret. He always wanted to see you and he thought you knew that. The feeling only got worse as he continued reading the messages he had somehow missed. 

10:01 AM

My girl <3: Sorry, you’re probably still sleeping. It’s been a long 3 weeks without you, I don’t blame you for wanting to sleep in. 

10:03 AM

My girl <3: Just get back to me when you can.

The lack of your usual sweet words and the fact you weren’t adding any heart emojis at the end of your texts showed him exactly what you said in the voicemail. 

You were done.

There were no more texts after that one and Jack felt his heart break when he realized that you probably thought he was flat out ignoring you, when it was the opposite. 

He couldn’t wait to come home and see you. The past three weeks were hard and packed full of promo, interviews and press. He was hardly in control of his phone the whole time and only had it at the end of the day. Something about not wanting him to be distracted? Whatever the reason was, it was definitely not worth you feeling like he was ignoring you.

Jack clicked on the call button and brought the phone back up to his ear. Disappointment and guilt took over his body when he was sent straight to voicemail. 

You didn’t want to talk to him.

You spent weeks trying to fight for your relationship, you had nothing left to give. 

He squeezed his eyes shut when he heard your voice ask him to leave a message. He could only hope that you would get back to him as soon as your past self promised you would. “Y/n,” he said desperately, his eyes opening quickly as he brought his free hand up to tug on his recently cut hair. “Fuck, baby, I am so sorry for not answering you, I- things have been so crazy lately and I know that’s not an excuse, but, please. Let me make it up to you, let me explain everything, please.”

He was rambling, trying to get everything out in a single message. There were no words to describe the fear that was currently looming in his body, his heart aching and terrified that you wouldn’t call him back - terrified you wouldn’t let him explain. 

“I can fix this, I can fix everything, I promise, just please,” he realized that his promises probably meant nothing to you now, but he was desperate at this point. “Please, just don’t… Don’t leave me. I love you, I-”

The sound of a beep cut him off and his pleas were sent to your voicemail.

He stood in silence for a few seconds, his phone still pressed to his ear as if your voice would come through the device and give him the comfort he hadn’t given you when you needed it most. 

Finally, he dropped his hand and loosely held his phone between his fingers. His legs moved before his mind had the chance to keep up with them as he scrapped the idea of heading upstairs to his room. 

He walked through the kitchen in complete darkness and opened the door to the place he spent hours with you in, the door closing loudly behind him.

-

GUYS I think they broke up fr.

Um…did Y/n and Jack break up? I haven’t seen any new posts with her in months.

Y/n hasn’t been active at all on social media….I think her and Jack are done.

JACK AND Y/N BROKE UP PARTY.

Hopefully they’re both okay, they seemed really happy together. 

The comments he received on a daily basis were a form of torture Jack had never felt before. It hurt to read them, especially the ones that were applauding him for breaking things off with you. 

She was holding him back, sorry.

He’s thriving now that she’s gone.

Yay, she’s gone.

God, people really were brutal. 

He couldn’t bring himself to read anymore and closed the app. He was met with your smiling face as his background and felt his heart skip a beat.

You are so beautiful.

Jack felt his throat begin to close as he recalled all the times he should’ve told you that more. His eyes burned and his face heated up, but he couldn’t cry. Not now, not in public. 

He’d be back home in a few hours and only then, when he’s in the comfort of the basement and holding the pillow that no longer smelled like you, would he allow himself to wallow in self pity.

Damn, he felt pathetic. 

He just missed you more than any word in the world could describe. 

He was right in believing you wouldn’t get back to him after he poured his heart out to you through voicemail. It still didn’t lessen the heartbreak, though. 

If this was how it felt to be completely shut out from the person you loved, Jack couldn’t hate himself more for allowing you to feel this way about him. There were only a few times where he wanted to redo something, and this was one of them. If he could, he would go back a month or so ago and redo the entire thing, but this time so differently. 

He would never let you feel the hurt and sadness that he provided you with every time one of your texts went unanswered. He would call you everyday, distractions be damned, and tell you that he missed you, that he loved you and that he was coming back to you.

Maybe he was imagining it, but he could’ve sworn he heard your laugh. It sounded distant, and maybe if he went a few more months without you he would’ve forgotten what it sounded like, but not now. Maybe not ever. 

It was a sound he had been wanting to hear for weeks now. A sound he knew so well. One that belonged to you and only you.

He looked up and that was when he felt the first bit of happiness, the first bit of relief in what felt like forever. 

You looked good, a lot prettier than he remembered and perhaps happier than he had ever seen you. It hurt to think that he was holding you back all this time. You were miserable for weeks because of him, and now you were happy without him. 

That still didn’t stop him from crossing the busy street, breaking a couple of laws that he’d apologise for later, and standing a mere few feet from you. Your eyes opened and you took a step forward when your friend grabbed your arm as she had seen Jack before you did.

Giving her a confused look and raising a brow, you turn to where she was looking and almost instantly the smile you wore faded. Your arm slipped from hers as you held eye contact with your ex, your eyes ringing as heat flushed your face.

She mumbled something to you, along the lines of, “Are you okay? Do you want me to stay?”

You’re broken out of your trance as you turn to face her, a tight lipped smile on your face. “No, it’s okay. You go on, I’ll catch up,” 

She nodded, giving Jack a suspicious look before walking away. 

You were left to stand alone, with the exception of the broken looking boy in front of you. Shifting awkwardly, you hesitantly meet his eye. “You’re home,” you state, chewing on your bottom lip as you play with your fingers. 

“Yeah,” Jack says quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “You never called me back.”

It was a bad thing to say as Jack had also failed to call you back on multiple occasions, but his heart had more control over his mouth than his head did. 

You break eye contact and look down at the broken sidewalk below you. “I know,” the silence returned for a second or two as you tried to think of what to say. It had been weeks since you last saw him, since you last talked to him, yet you couldn’t think of a thing to say to keep the conversation going without turning it into an argument. Observing his appearance, you force out a smile as you say, “You cut your hair.”

“Y/n,” he pleaded and you once again looked away, feeling your face heat up for the second time as you blinked away the tears that were beginning to form. While you couldn’t look at him, Jack couldn’t take his eyes off you. “Why won’t you look at me?” 

He hated how he sounded so desperate, but he didn’t know how else to act. 

You shake your head but look up at him anyway, shrugging as you ask, “What do you want me to say, Jack?” You ask and watch as his face falls and his own eyes become glossy. “You were gone and you…..you shut me out. I tried everything to get you to talk to me, to text me, to acknowledge that while you were out there living your new life, I was still here. You forgot about me.”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head and stepping closer to you. “No, I thought about you every day I was gone. I fuck-”

He cut himself off as he ran his tongue over his teeth, his disappointment in himself growing as the conversation went on. This was not how he wanted things to go at all. 

“I fucked up, okay? I know that. There’s nothing I can say that would excuse what I did, but I’m sorry for everything. Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted to do,” he paused, glancing back up at you with the saddest look you had ever seen on him. “I love you, and I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise.”

You give him a weak shrug, desperately trying to hold off on crying in public. “Sorry I wasn’t worth it,”

His hand grabbed your wrist without him even meaning to, stepping closer to you as if to hide your body behind his from the prying eyes of the world around you. “Don’t say that, baby, please,” he quietly begged, trying to ignore the way his heart leaped when you placed your hands on his forearm. “You’re everything to me. I’m the one who isn’t worth it.”

Your teary gaze met his and you had no control over the way your bottom lip quivered. “I can’t go through that again,” 

Your words were hardly audible, but Jack heard you clear as day. His other hand came up to caress the side of your face as his guilty eyes stared into yours. “I’m so sorry,” 

A few seconds pass with you staring up at him, and he knew you were trying to see if he was lying or being untruthful at all. It was the way you protected yourself before letting someone in. It reminded him of the early days of your relationship, back when you were cautious about allowing an actor to own your heart. 

“Please,” he mumbled and you hesitantly placed your hands on his shoulders, trying to ignore how protected you felt as his figure towered over you. Without saying a thing, you tug on him and wrap your arms around his neck. Jack let out a quiet, dry sob as he tucked his face away in the space between your neck and shoulder. “Take me back.”

Your fingers played with the ends of his short hair, hiding your face away so your tears dampened his shirt. “Please,” you begged when he placed small kisses against the skin of your neck. “It can’t be like last time.”

Jack quickly pulled away from you and kissed you, his thumbs reaching up to wipe away your tears as he did so. “I promise,” he murmured when he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “Wherever I go, I’m taking you with me.”

You rolled your eyes, not believing him until you pulled away a bit to see the truthfulness in his eyes. “What?” 

“That or I’ll just stay home,” the words flowed easily out of his mouth.

“You’re not serious,” you trail off, holding eye contact with him. “You’re serious?”

“I love you,”

You don’t say anything as his words, the ones you craved to hear for weeks, sunk into you. Reaching up, you press a chaste kiss to his mouth before holding him close to you once again, melting into the way his arms wrapped tightly around your middle.

[dantedsblog]

Yang : No I don’t have a crush on Jaune.

Ruby: You have a picture of him on the wall !

Yang: Can’t I have a picture of my buddy?

Weiss: You always look at him like you’re in the middle of space.

Yang: I just like his shape that’s all.

Blake: You stole his hoody while he’d been sleeping.

Yang: Because his hoody’s warm damn girls stop reading into thin..

Jaune came to the team RWBY wearing only a T shirt.

Jaune:Hey guys

Yang looked at him with open mouth to the song (I just) died in your arms.

Ruby: We lost her at leat for 3 hours.

[blingblong55]

Some comfort -141

Based on a request:

This just popped into my head, s/o reader who hates perfume, so they sometimes steal the boys' cologne :3 --- F!Reader, fluff, established!relationship ---

You never liked the smell of any perfume, tried to love at least one but none of them felt like they would be your signature smell, that and the smell was always so strong. All your friends had one, they would try and persuade you into buying one but never did you feel like one belonged to you. Your boyfriend knew this, he knew that he wouldn't have some of your perfume all over his clothes and he was fine with it. Your lipstick stain on his neck or the red hue on his lips was enough for him to parade around. He fell in love with the girl who left those beautiful lipstick stains.

As he was away once more for his job, you roamed his flat, wore his clothes when you were cold or when you missed him in the dark of night, his clothes were there. All for you to take, he promised. That was his goal, for his pretty lady to wear anything he wore, you'd after all have a piece of him in the way you dress. That is the dream life for him. A simple compliment to himself and you, he is yours as much as you are his. Equals in love, except the silly arguement in who loves who more. Although he crowned himself as the ultime lover of you and no, you can't win him. "I love you more, more, more, more," each 'more' kept getting mumbled with each kiss he gave your pouty lips.

Price: He came home late, his boots kicked off and as he noticed that you were in fact staying in his flat, he smiled. A new hoodie, all black, no pockets, hm, that's new. No perfume but cologne as its smell. Then it struck him, it was his cologne. But the hoodie wasn't his and before he could form a theory, you came out of the bathroom, wrapped around a towel. His cologne's aroma spread around. Ah, so that's new. His pretty girl found not a perfume but a cologne, his cologne. He walked to you, soft skin kissed by his lips. "My love," he whispers and kisses your neck. "I could've picked you up, you know." Your hands take off the dusty hat.

"No need. Smell good, my pretty girl," he kisses your lips before picking you up and carrying you to bed. As you chuckled, he made a mental note, to leave small bottles of his cologne around your and his flat for when he was gone. When asked, you answered, "I never knew the smell of cologne would bring me home." He held back the blush and happy tears. All this time, in search of your signature perfume, his cologne brought a sense of familiarity, a sense of belonging. He belongs to you as you to him.

Gaz:

You were there at base, comfortable clothes on as you waited for him. Looking in the sea of soldiers and then, there they all were. His buddies and him, he was telling some joke when he made eye contact. Had to look twice and when your eyes and his met, he patted his mate's back and ran to you. You open your arms and as he held you like the most important being on this planet, he smelt it. The cologne he wore every day. The little sniffs you would take and how he pretended to not notice. His angel was wearing it. Something so small that he knew you hated to do but did it because of him. The scent he first wore to meet you, the one he held your hand when you cried, the one in which he asked your father for permission to marry his little girl.

A smell, a scent, so simple but so special. One thing you hated but now it adorned your body, wrapped you like a hug when he was away. Something you did on accident one day but couldn't stop do it. "Oh my R/N," he smells his cologne on you again. The kisses around your lips increased and his mates shook their heads with a smile. An arm around your shoulder, a proud smile that his girl walked around smelling like him and in return, he wore that lipstick stain.

Soap:

It wasn't soon that he noticed the smell, took some minutes but then as you passed him in the kitchen, the smell of food disappeared with the smell of his cologne. That couldn't be, he just took a shower and forgot to apply it-you. His bonnie, his pretty little bonnie. His arms immediately pulled you to his chest. Nose dragged around you like a hound. "My sweet girl," the biggest smile on him. You had completely forgotten about it, it was a routine. Wake up, change, spray some of his cologne and out the door. Three months away from him, that's how fast you adapted his scent on you. It was the only way to keep him there as he fought some other war.

"Aren't ya the cutest," he boops your nose and you chuckle. It was cute, the girl who swore no perfume was good and the scent was so disgusting, was now drowned in his cologne. That rich smell kept him home whilst away. The jumper, and the shirt, were all covered in his cologne. It feels right, you told yourself. I know it's right, he told himself. Pretty princess, his pretty princess. And now, on each trip to the store, he passes by the place where he bought his cologne, and buys one extra one, small-sized for the pretty purse you love to use.

Ghost:

As you eagerly waited by the door like a kid and his arms wrapped around the open good thing the world gave him in return, he knew the smell. "My love-" a sentence that would question the smell, only to be interrupted by your kiss. A much-awaited kiss. It's love, he remembers the first time he blushed when you kissed his scars. It's love, the way you now wear his cologne after the silly argument on why all perfumes were shit. There are two things that make up Simon Riley, his past and his future, which he knows he'll spend with you. There are two things that make up Ghost, the will to fight like the monster he is out there and the man who knows he fights like a monster so his love and he can only worry about their grandkids at old age.

"You...why..my love why are you-" Once more you interrupt, "I don't like the sweet smell of perfumes for many reasons but I love the smell of the one man I have found love and happiness with." Words that to this day he holds onto. So what if Soap makes a comment on why his mask has a lipstick stain? His best girl made it, its what keeps Simon and Ghost together on the field. No perfume on his packed clothes but the girl who walks into the coffee shop smells like the tall man who asks for Earl-grey tea and that makes him smile.

Tags: @actuallyhiswife @kkaaaagt

[diazsdimples]

Buddie "wish I could carry you in my pocket"

"Wish I could carry you around in my pocket," Buck sighs as he gazes lovingly at Eddie sitting on the kitchen table. He's just a little too short for his legs to touch the ground, so he's got his ankles hooked together as he swings his legs back and forth. That, plus the oversized hoodie he's wearing have the effect of making him look like an overgrown toddler and Buck thinks he is simply adorable.

The minute the words leave his lips, Buck has an idea. A year or so ago, Buck had been messing around with one of Maddie's old spellbooks when he'd come across a Shrinking Spell. Thinking it would be useful if he ever needed to pull someone out of a mound of rubble or remove a crush, Buck had learned the spell, accidentally shrinking Maddie's laptop before figured out the reversing spell and had put it to right.

"Hmm?" Eddie says, lifting his eyes ever so slightly from the cookbook he's studying. "What was that, baby?"

Buck rolls up his sleeves and flexes his fingers a little. "Oh nothing, don't mind me." He clicks his fingers and looks pleased as a small shower of blue sparks rain onto the hardwood floors. There's a very faint smell of sea salt, but hopefully not enough for Eddie to notice. "Hold still."

"Wha-?"

Eddie barely has a moment to register Buck's words before Buck does a series of complicated wiggles with his fingers, mutters "Parvus" under his breath, and Eddie is suddenly shrouded in a cloud of royal blue energy. The room is suddenly filled with the scent of the ocean, as if Buck has suddenly stepped out onto Santa Monica beach.

When the cloud clears Eddie is nowhere to be seen, and Buck's heart is instantly in his throat.

"Eddie?" he calls out, walking towards the table where his boyfriend had been perched moments earlier. "Eddie are you still here?"

I've fucking disappeared my boyfriend, Buck thinks in a moment's panic. He hadn't read anything in the fine print about performing the spell on performing it on human subjects, and he's also not sure how to control the size of the thing he's transforming. There is a very real possibility that he's shrunk Eddie to the size of a dust mite and will never be able to resize him again.

Why the fuck can't he use his brain before acting??

Just before Buck plummets into a proper panic attack, there's a small movement on the table, just behind the cookbook resting on the edge.

"Buck, what the fuck have you done to me?"

The voice is high pitched and quiet but unmistakably Eddie's, and it takes Buck a second to locate it. But there, dusting himself off and looking decidedly unimpressed, is the smallest Eddie Buck has ever seen in his life. He's about the size of Buck's forefinger and leans against the pages of the cookbook as he glares up at his boyfriend.

"Oh my god, you are so tiny!" Buck grins as he takes in Eddie in all his miniscule glory. "I can't believe that worked!"

Buck reaches out and picks Eddie up, his fingers pinching at the back of Eddie's hoodie, and he drops his boyfriend into the palm of his hand. Eddie wobbles unsteadily before gingerly lowering himself down so he's sitting on the edge of Buck's palm with his legs dangling over the edge, no dissimilar to how he was on the table. He crosses his arms across his chest and glares up at Buck. If he wasn't all of 3 inches tall, it would almost be intimidating

"Put me back," he demands, the authoritativeness of his tone lost entirely by the fact that he sounds like he's swallowed a tank of helium. "Put me back or so help me God-"

"Or what?" Buck giggles, "You'll crawl up my nose?"

"I'll squeeze inside your dickhole and cause permanent damage with my teeth and fists," Eddie counters with a huff.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, babe."

"Buck please, we've got a shift in 3 hours. Make me big again," Eddie pleads, and Buck's completely incapable of defying his boyfriend at the best of times, especially when he's perched perfectly in the palm of Buck's hands, looking so tiny and adorable and pleading silently with his big brown eyes.

Buck sighs and holds his palm adjacent to the table so Eddie can walk across it and take up position next to the cookbook.

"Can I at least try fitting you in my pocket?" he asks, giving Eddie his puppy eyes, but it seems Shrunk Eddie is immune to Buck's charms. He shakes his head vehemently, snapping his fingers so a ball of deep green energy appears in the palm of his hands. The mellow, woodsy scent of pine trees cuts through the saltiness of Buck's magic as Eddie juggles the energy ball between his hands.

"Try it, I dare you."

Knowing when he's beaten, Buck relents with a sigh. Buck may be the one that practices magic the most but Eddie comes from a long line of powerful sorcerers, and Buck has no trouble admitting that Eddie is the more skilled magician of the two of them. If Eddie wanted to, he could turn Buck into a cockroach in a matter of seconds.

"Magnus" he mutters, channelling a fraction of his energy towards Eddie, and there's another cloud of rich blue energy and Eddie reappears.

He shakes out his arms and hops off the table. "You have no idea how weird that was," he grimaces. "You looked like a giant!"

"Don't I always?" Buck teases, referencing his slight height advantage against Eddie which was a slight sore point in their relationship.

Eddie takes two steps forward so they're nose to nose, and is about to open his mouth to scold Buck before a look of surprise passes over his face.

"Huh!" he says, stepping back so he's able to look at Buck properly. A grin begins to spread over his face as he looks Buck up and down. "I think that spell made me taller!"

Buck balks. "Absolutely not, that's not possible," he says, shaking his head. "I'm the tall one!"

Eddie steps back into Buck's space and yep, he's definitely grown an inch or two. They're almost completely at eye level, with Eddie a fraction taller, if anything. Buck gulps. Maybe he shouldn't have played around with magic.

"No, baby, you're definitely shorter than me no," he grins, and he tilts Buck's chin up (up!!!) to kiss him. It's soft and sweet, their lips moving in tandem. Eddie's smiling into the kiss and Buck can feel the smugness radiating off him.

"I'll just have to shrink you again," he points out as they break apart, but Eddie merely grins and kisses Buck on the forehead.

"I'd like to see you try."

Send me a ship and a sentence and I'll finish it!!

[sturnsdoll]

Matt and Fwb!reader

at a party she decides to flirt with someone else, i mean she is still single after all

Matt doesn’t like that much

BELONG TO ME ੈ♡˳ - M.S

pairing: (fwb!) matt x reader

summary: when you catch your fuck buddy bestfriend flirting with another girl at a party, you decide you need to distract yourself with a different guy. matt doesn't like that at all. you belong to him.

warnings: rough dom!matt, jealousy/possesivness, fingering, thigh riding, p in v, hair pulling, degrading, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, this one's wild so lmk if i missed anything!

word count: 3,137

authors note: i know nobody asked for me to write about thigh riding but i truly dgaf cause it's sexy ash. hope y'all enjoy <3

"pink" - reader speaking "blue" - matt speaking

suggested song while reading:

「 ✦house of balloons/glass table girls by the weeknd ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 ᯤ✦ 」

the walls in the house were vibrating with music. voices rose over one another. alcohol and perfume filled your nostrils and you were wandering around like a headless chicken to find your bestfriend matt, who had brought you here.

there was a good 10 minutes of being caught up in conversation, being pushed and shoved, as well as just pure confusion of the crowds of people that halted you from your search. but alas, through the crowd of people you recognize matt's black hoodie and grey tank. a smile returns to your face. you adjust your dress down from where it had risen as well as fix your hair a little. mouth open, you're about to call for your friend when you realize he wasn't just standing there conversating. there was a girl stood beside him. with the way his arm cradled her while she leaned on him there was practically no space between the two.

you wanted to keep walking up to him. wanted to not care. but something inside you physically ached at her being on the guy you were so close with. so intimate with. you had been so naked with. your bestfriend. without thinking you turned around, storming off in the other direction.

it took a few minutes, but not many for you to find a guy. handsome, but not matt really your type. it wasn't hard to convince him to come out to the backyard for a little space to have fun. once outside, the strangers hand grazed your thigh as the two of your lips mushed together. he tasted like beer and cigarettes. quite honestly? he kissed like a complete fucking idiot.. nothing like matt

but, he was decent looking. tall with a typically attractive (but douchey) face and damn well good enough to distract yourself from caring about someone else's endeavors. unbeknownst to you though, this would lead to just about anything but 'distracting yourself' from your bestfriend.

when you had seen matt with that girl, it was only as you were walking away that he saw you. matt had not as kindly as possible told the girl he had to go before chasing after you. he had been excited because he hadn't caught sight of you in about an hour or two- or at least he was excited till he watched you drag some random guy outside.

even though it was none of his buisiness, matt followed curiously until you, as well as the stranger, both exited the party. he stayed insde near the window to see what was happening. for two minutes he disgustedly obeserved a heated makeout that made his stomach turn. matt was finding it impossible to decide wether he had a right to go out there and stop it or not.

he wasn't your boyfriend after all. only the friend you fuck... right?

wrong. because the second that guy's hand brushed too close to the hem of your dress, matt was throwing open the back door. he came uncomfortably close to you and the stranger. you caught sight of his enraged features right away. you assumed something had happened and were immedietly concerned "matt hey what's wr-"

through gritted teeth, he interupted "we're leaving now. please." matt's tone was stern but he was trying not to upset you by being irrationally angry. you backed away from the stranger enough to take in matt's whole body language."what? why? the party isn't eve- matt!" matt had firmly but not too aggresively pulled you infront of him by your arm. away from the other guy. the other guy was completely dumbfounded and frozen, no clue what was happening. matt looked down at you with urgency "are you staying here with him.." he eyed the stranger with threat "or are you going with me to your house?" you could tell that whatever was wrong, he was angry enough that he was trying not to have some kind of outburst. although... you'd beg to differ that he already was.

you finally respond "you?" your tone was telling him 'obviously?'. before you can question him further, matt nods as he grabs your hand to drag you through the backgate. the whole way to the car you were asking matt why he was so eager to leave but it just fell on deaf ears.

the entire drive to your apartment his hand aggresively kneaded at your thigh so now you were assuming he left because he was horny. he made it clear that he'd tell you what was happening when you'd get home.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

the second the two of you entered your home you started asking questions while he slid his sweater and shoes off. "if you were horny we could've found a room there matt?" you said, still confused. he didn't respond to you as he undid his shoe laces. now you were concerned. "matt? say something c'mon"

once his shoes were off he stood to face you. he didn't wanna be toxic by yelling at or harassing you about some guy. but he couldn't just let it go either.

"who was that guy?" his voice comes out colder than he means it to. you shrug mindlessly "just some guy" you respond. before he can ask anything else you mutter "not that it's your buisiness". he looks down at you with a million emotions coursing through him, jealousy overcoming most of the others. "excuse me?" he seemed offended and it pissed you off since he started all this. "well since you were busy with some girl i figured i'd keep myself busy too." you stated.

he laughs sarcastically "i had an arm around her because she was drunk and i was physically pointing her in the right direction of where she was going. and yeah, i may have flirted a little" he steps closer to the point where you can feel his breath fan your face "you however- had that guys hand halfway up your fucking dress." even matt's surprised at his own tone. but you both know he'd never intentionally upset or hurt you though. "i was stupid for being jealous but at least i didn't drag you outta there. it's not like i'm your girlfriend matt. i'm not yours" you even hurt yourself with your last few choice of words.

"were you gonna let him touch you?" matt's voice shows that he's desperate for an answer. you roll your eyes. "not your buisiness." the second the words leave your lips he steps forward again, making you back up. he grabs your arm to keep you in place so now your noses brush and lips ghost one anothers. "were you?" he repeats. you can't believe how jealous he seems but something about it makes your thighs clench. "okay, jesus matt, yes. i was." you reply quickly. there's a moment where you can see his mind pool with thoughts. but before any of them come out, his lips smash onto yours. his hand going to the back of your head, in your hair. your lips meld into one anothers, but there's nothing gentle about it. his grip on your hair tightens as he backs you into a nearby dresser.

once he's done with kissing your lips practically raw, he begins to leave marks down your neck. "i don't care if i'm your friend-" he stops to suck at your neck "your bestfriend.." another harsh suck to your collarbone "your fuck buddy.." his free hand pulls your dress up a little "or the biggest pain in your ass ever." he cups your pussy through your underwear as he pulls your head back by your hair, elicting a whine from your throat "you're mine" his hand slithers into your panties and two fingers enter you as he seethes out "you belong to me." into your ear

"matt!" you cry out. he gives you no time to prepare before his long fingers are fucking you faster than you can even think. once he's studied your face and confirmed to himself that you're enjoying this side of him, he uses the leverage of his grip in your hair to pull your face to his, sloppily making out as his fingers abuse your cunt.

a moment later he pulls back again "think he would've known how you like to be touched?" matt questions as he thumb presses down on your clit just the way you like. shaking your head no, you grip his shoulders for support. he answers his own question "no. but i do. so are you his?" his question makes you clench around his fingers because you know where this is going. "n- ngh- no." "well than?"

"liste- uhh mm- i'm sorry i-" he cuts you off "no. i don't care. jus wanna know who you belong to" his thumb circles faster on your clit now, adding more pressure as well. "yo- mm!" he purposefully ruined your chance at speaking by curling his fingers into that one spot. the spongey spot inside you that makes your head spin and stomach turn.

his gives a look of faux sympathy "sorry sweetheart i didn't get that" his tone is convincingly sweet but you know better. giving him a glare, you repeat yourself "you, you asshole". a grin plasters on his face at the satisfaction. you said you belong to him. he also loved the way you mouthed off to him even if he wouldn't admit it "that's how you're gonna talk to me when im knuckles deep in you?" proving his point, he manages to push his fingers just a little deeper. this time when they curl you gasp and moan, gripping his shoulders. you lay your forehead on his chest, embarassed by how your cunt squeezes his fingers at every dirty word and little touch from him. he knows what he's doing. "matt c'mon" you beg.. even though you don't really want him to stop.

"what? you were shamelessly gonna let a stranger finger fuck you but now you're all shy, hm?" he releases your hair so he can pull the top of your dress down, exposing your tits. you only respond to him with a whine as his lips attach to your left nipple. you start to feel the knot in your stomach forming.

his teeth nip and suck making you arch your back, your chest pressing further toward him. your mouth opens, head tilted back. you're getting right to the edge. you're about to tell your bestfriend you need to cum when he slowly pulls his fingers out, hand emerging from under your dress.

you sigh and eye him annoyidly "matt." you complain, clenching around nothing. he releases your tit with a pop. "considering you were gonna let someone else touch you, you clearly don't appreciate how good i am at making you finish" as he talks he's guiding you over to your couch "so i think you should do it yourself so you can learn to appreciate how good i am to you" there's a cocky little smile on his face that he's trying to supress. before you get a chance to respond to him, he sits down and pulls you gently onto his thigh.

your dress bunches around the very tops of your thighs now, underwear still on you, completely drenched from him fingering you. staring at him, you don't process what he's telling you to do until his long fingers come up to grab your jaw, gently forcing eyecontact "ride my thigh." he instructs right before pushing his leg up, the light friction is just enough to effect you.

with how sensitive you already were, the lightest touches have you gone. your hips instinctively began rocking over the rough material of his jeans. your hands find his shoulders to steady yourself once again. his eyes are glued to your frustratedely needy expression. the way your lips part and your lashes flutter as you close your eyes makes his dick throb to be inside you.

although your clits getting some friction, the lack of having his fingers or more disirably his dick inside you is driving you insane. there's already a wet patch on his jeans from you. not surprising considering he has you completely soaked. your hips are already beginning to slow, finding it impossible to chase your orgasm just by fucking yourself on his thigh.

matt notices this. "tired, baby? you need help?" he teases. to add to it his thigh flexes again making you whine his name. it feels good but you need more. "fuck matt, please" you sigh out desperately. his long fingers take hold of your hips and begin rocking you at a steady pace, pushing you down onto his thigh. "this feel better?" he asks. you nod. there's a cockiness to his voice that makes you close your thighs tightly around his.

he looks down to see where you've already soaked his jeans as well as to see how your pussy's desperately grinding on him for whatever pleasure you can get. he looks back up now to see how your eyes are closed, focus in your features. pretty whines and moans spill one after the other. the more needy you get, the higher in pitch your needy little noises get. matt loves when he gets you like this. nothing in your head besides hoping he'll let you cum.

he himself is beginning to find it impossible to ignore the buldge that's straining the fabric of his jeans. for the second time tonight you start to feel your stomach twisting with the familiar ache of an upcoming orgasm. your thighs squeeze around his thigh even harder now.

"can i?" you whine. matt already knows what you want so his grip on your hips tightens bruisingly, forcing you to a sudden stop. your eyes open wide and you stare at him pleadingly, so worked up and out of breath that you can't bring yourself to protest or complain when he lifts you off him and sets you on the couch so that you're on your knee's, hands on the arm rest. he's standing now, removing his clothes. once he's finished, he gets comfortable behind you good thing you have a wide enough couch for the both of you and helps you with getting your panties off. he lines himself up, his tip teasing your hole.

your hips push back toward him needily but he grips them again to force them back into place. there's a long moment of nothing. you open your mouth to ask him what the hell's taking so long but it's replaced by a nearly pornographic noise at the feeling of his length filling you completely with 0 warning.

he pulls out with only the tip in before filling you completely again. "matt!" you cry out in pleasure (and a little pain from the stretch.) loving the way his name sounds from you, he wants to hear it again. he pulls out then fucks back into you. just like he wanted, his name falls from your lips.

his pace is on the slower side but every thrust is deep, hitting all the right spots. your nails are threatning to pierce the fabric of your couch. his name mixed with moans of pleasure come over and over again. matt's not a huge egotistical asshole or anything but he'd be lying if he didn't say that the control he has over you right now wasn't getting him off. he loves that you only become such a mess for him.

he loves that you belong to him

his hips are twitching and his thrusts are faster, needier. his hand finds your hair and he pulls you up so your back is against his chest. he knows he's close but he needs to make sure his girl his bestfriend comes first, so his other hand leaves your hip to come to your clit, rubbing fast circles that make you see stars.

he feels you clenching, hears your choked moans but decides to ask anyway. he wants to hear you say it. "you wanna cum for me baby?" he asks right in your ear, his voice goes straight to your cunt making you impossibly more turned on. you nod your head but that's not enough for him.

"use your words" "n-need to cum f- mph fuck!- for you" at the sound of your begging he nearly finishes but there's one more thing he needs to hear before he's done with you. "i'll let you cum if you- mmph- tell me who you belong to, y-yeah?" you can hear it in his voice, he's desperate too. but he wants needs the satisfaction of hearing that you're his. you groan with frustration "you, matt." your spit out at him. you don't care for his antics right now, just wanting to cum.

he uses his grip on your hair to tug your head to the side so he can make eyecontact with you. he can hear the ingenuity in your voice and he needs you to say it like you mean it. "say it again sweetheart." he demands, landing a light slap to your clit that elicts a whine from you. you can't take much more of this. "matt i need to cum pl-" "say. it. again." between each word he slams inside of you. you feel your legs begin to shake and mind going fuzzy.

"i'm yours, m-matt. i'm all yours"

"good girl. now go ahead and cum for me"

the words aren't even fully out of his lips when you coat his dick with your cum. your legs shake, mind a complete haze as he's fucking you through it. it doesn't take long before your body is basically limp. his grip on your hair and arm around you keeping you up.

he thrusts into you harshly just one more time before stilling, then you feel his seed fill and spill out of you. he stays there for a few seconds before pulling out, releasing his hold on you and gently guiding you to lay on the couch. he drops down behind you to hold you close, pulling a blanket from the top of the couch over the two of you.

for the next ten minutes your "bestfriend" lays behind you, his mouth peppering kisses along your shoulder silently, soothingly. you're the first to speak. "matt?" your voice comes quiet. "mhm?". "i'm assuming that meant you don't want me seeing other people?"

he pulls you closer against him "yea- well.. not unless you want us to be seeing other people??" there's a hint of concern in his voice. "absaloutely not." you say with no hesitation. you hear him let out a sigh of relief. there's a pause before you speak again "and matt?"

no response. "matt??" nothing.

you turn your head to see him fast asleep like a little baby.

idiot.

tags: @mattsrod @sturncakez

[luxurychristmaspudding]

tommy's party (tommy's party pt. ii)

summary: you and frankie work things out. it just might be that actions speak louder than words.

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. roommate!frankie, stoner!frankie and stoner!reader. mentions of drinking and smoking weed - they're still having a good time! friends to lovers, massive idiots in love, split pov, little bit of fluff, a whole lotta sexual tension and actual s*x this time. thighriding, m masturbation, unprotected p in v (wrap it, y'all), oral, creampie. use of pet names (good girl, baby, etc. (not platonic!))

song is tagged at end of fic - header does not represent reader, only the album!

wc: 12.3k

an: happy frankie friday, y'all <3

part i - you and your friends

Tasha leaves early the next morning. 

Frankie offers to make her coffee, but she politely declines, saying she should probably get home. He’s surprised at how quick and easy it is for her to cut her losses. He’s surprised at how little he cares about seeing her again. 

He’s surprised at how quickly all of last night is eaten up by thoughts of you.

You and how much you’d heard. You and how you’d left. You and where you’d gone. 

Frankie tries to keep his mind occupied as the hours tick by. He texts you again, just wanting to know if you’re safe, adding to the string of unanswered messages from the night before. He has a horrible, sour feeling that he’s upset you. And a deeper, nasty feeling that he can’t quite place. 

He hates the fact you have this hold over him, hates the fact that he felt nothing as he fucked Tasha last night, the fact that he had to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t moan your name. Hates the fact that when he shut his eyes he could only see you, only wanted to feel and hear you, and that it’s those thoughts that made him do it. The fact that you care so much you’d left the apartment, but not for the reasons he wants. 

His mood has soured so much by late morning that he wishes you won’t come home. He hopes he won’t have to see you, hopes he won’t have to talk to you until he solves the broiling mess swirling in his head. But it’s still bubbling when the front door opens and you step through it, in the same clothes you left in, hair wet and eyes tired.

Frankie’s stomach rolls as though he already knows, can already sense where you’ve been, who you were with.

You fix each other with a stare as you kick off your trainers and take off your hoodie. You hang it next to your jacket and turn to face Frankie at the kitchen counter. You hope he can tell you’re not wearing a bra. You hope he can see from there the bruises that are forming on your neck and collarbone from Benny last night. 

And this morning.

As you step into the kitchen, Frankie’s eyes sweep over you. The marks, the way you now avoid his gaze. You try to busy yourself with making coffee, but Frankie won’t move. Because now you’re this close, he can smell it. The faint, fresh scent of Benny’s body wash.

‘Where the fuck have you been?’ He spits.

You purse your lips as though you’re trying not to smile, and Frankie feels himself drawing to his full height, incensed.

‘Benny’s.’ You say, and Frankie stares at you, hot and angry.

‘Benny’s?’ he asks, and you throw him a look.

‘Yes, Frankie. I was with Benny.’

Frankie’s jaw grinds, a hand flexing at his side.

‘What - what were you doing at -’

You turn to him, quick as a whip, a kind of disgust on your face.

‘What do you think we were doing, Frankie?’

You stare him down, heart beating hard in your chest, daring him. You’ve never been this angry with him, never felt the hot, heady lurch of it between you until now. But then he’s never hurt you like this, so deep and quick you didn’t even know what was happening until you’d washed his buddy from your skin this morning. 

Frankie’s nostrils flare as he looks down at you, face unreadable.

‘Knock it off.’ He seethes.

‘Knock what off, asshole?’

‘Whatever that is,’ he says, waving a hand over your shoulder. ‘Whatever that thing you have with Benny is.’

You sneer at him, stepping closer. He doesn’t move, just watches you with something molten in his eyes. 

‘Why do you want me to knock it off, Frankie? Hm?’

‘I don’t want you sleeping with my friends.’ 

His words sting, and you reel backwards as though he’s actually hit you. A well of something flourishes in your chest, at once cooling, at once stoking your anger. Your cheeks colour as you feel the embarrassment grow. Because he’s made it sound so out of proportion - he’s making this something it’s not.

‘What the fuck, Fish? What the fuck?’ You laugh, cruel and disbelieving. You turn from him, making your way back through the hallway. You shout over your shoulder, Frankie following you - ‘Seriously? You know if I hadn’t slept with your friend you wouldn’t be living here, right? You know you’d still be couch surfing, or living in some fucking bedsit somewhere -’

‘Fuck you -’

‘No, fuck you, asshole.’ You say, pulling your jacket on. ‘What is this really about, huh? You pissed off that I interrupted you last night? Or are you pissed off that I fucked Benny? Whatever kind of bullshit you’ve got going on here, it’s not gonna fly. And if it’s not something you can fix, you’re out.’

Frankie freezes. But you can’t stop, carried away now.

‘I’m - what?’

‘You’re out, y’hear me? You tell me to leave Benny alone again without giving me a good fuckin’ reason why, you’re out. Especially when I know who you had here last night.’

Frankie baulks at you. You laugh again, high pitched and thrilled as you stomp one of your boots on.

‘What, you really don’t think I know, Frankie? We work together. I’ve heard her laugh, and I know she gave you her number. So quit tryna be sly, too.’ You whirl around to him once you’ve stomped your last boot on and poke your finger in his face, chest heaving, the words barely scraping through your teeth.

‘And I’ve heard she’s a shit lay, baby. So congratu-fuckin’-lations. Enjoy.’

Frankie rocks as the door slams behind you. The silence left in the wake of the argument is deafening.

A prickling feeling works its way up Frankie’s torso, becoming hot as it floods his chest and neck. His breathing is shallow, his head swims. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, dials the only number he can think of.

‘Are you free right now?’

—

When you return later that evening, a little drunk, the flat is dark and empty. 

You toe your boots off by the door, and stand in the shadows, breathing them in. Streetlight and stars slant through the living room and kitchen windows, and the door to Frankie’s room is firmly shut. There’s not a snore, not a rustle of bedclothes, not a whisper of music floating from beneath the door. The tears you’ve been fighting to keep at bay all night prick in your eyes, and you whistle a breath out through your mouth, blinking up at the ceiling. 

If he’s gone to Tasha’s, if that’s who he’s turned to, you think you might be sick.

If she’s what Frankie wants, you will leave. This home you’ve made doesn’t mean enough to just sit by and watch him fall in love with someone else. 

The sound shocks you so much you freeze in the hallway, standing in dazed silence just long enough to realise what you’d heard was your own crying. Your face is wet to the touch, and your hands travel down your throat, to the burning in your chest. Fuck. This had been a bad idea from the start. His curls at the party, the shy smiles. You knew. You had known then, and you’d still let it happen. You’d gotten yourself attached, even convinced yourself it could work, and now you stood in its smouldering ashes. 

You rush into your bedroom, the door banging behind you as you claw at your chest. It hurts. It hurts so much, and there's nothing you can do to fix it, to stop it. The only thing in the world which could mend it is probably in the arms of another woman, memorising her smile, the flecks of colour in her eyes, the lilt in her voice when she speaks -

You bundle your fists into your blanket and cry hoarsely into your pillow. It doesn’t help. It does nothing to dissolve this cataclysmic feeling of loving him, of understanding him, of wanting him and knowing you won’t have it. You wish you could feel less stupid, less angry. You wish you could feel less.

You don’t know when you stop crying, but you welcome it. You welcome the silence, the blur and spin. You welcome the crackle in your throat. And finally, you welcome sleep.

You awake with your face still buried in your pillow, your temples pounding. You pull yourself up from the bed, stripping off the day’s clothes with mechanical movements, dumping them in your laundry basket before pulling on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. You dig around in your duvet for your phone, pulling it out to find it empty - not a single text, nothing from Frankie to tell you where he is, to say he’s left his keys again, to ask you to wait up for him. 

Your throat burns, and you rub your eyes, pissed off now at the crying, at still being upset when it's so obvious he doesn’t want you. 

Even after all you’d heard through the bedroom wall. 

You open your door to the still flat and head to the kitchen through the black. You take a glass from the top cupboard and fill it with water, and painkillers from the drawer to your left. You gulp both down and refill your glass before padding back down the hall. 

When you return to your room, you swaddle yourself in blankets again and turn on the TV. The apartment is too quiet without any noise from Frankie’s room, no indication that it’s not just you in here. You doze to the drone of whatever movie is playing, and some time after midnight you hear the swish of the front door opening, and the click of it slipping shut. 

Your heart freezes in your chest, clamouring in your ears as you strain for noise, for whispers, for the sound of someone else with him. 

But there is nothing but the dull thud of his boots on the floorboards, and then nothing above the sound of your TV. You clutch the softest part of the blanket you have tucked around you and pull it towards you to bury your face in it. When you inhale, it smells like Frankie. 

There is a soft rap at the door, and you cringe away from it. 

You can’t bear to look at him, can’t bear to hear him say whatever it is he wants to say, but you can’t bear to turn him away either. 

When Frankie gets no response, your door swings slowly open.

He stands there in the doorway, one hand on the handle, unsure whether to come in or not. That easy familiarity gone in the space of ten minutes. He’s still wearing his clothes from this morning, his cap pressed down firmly over his curls. His eyes take a moment to adjust before he spots you wrapped up in your bed, and he swallows.

‘Hey.’ He says, so softly that it makes your eyes water again.

‘Hey.’ You say back, voice muffled, cracking and heavy at the end.

As though he can’t stop himself, as though nothing could keep him from you, Frankie steps into the room. You blink up at him with red, wet eyes and damp cheeks.

‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ He asks, worried, coming to the side of the bed - like he’s forgotten, like he doesn't know - ‘What’s happened?’

You shake your head, try to turn your face away from him, the tears coming faster. He says your name gently, a little firmer, reaching with both hands to cup your cheeks.

‘What’s going on?’

‘I’m sorry,’ you croak out. ‘I’m sorry.’ Before your throat seizes and you can’t say anymore, that burning in your chest returning.

‘Hey,’ Frankie coos again, lifting from his knees to join you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you. ‘What happened?’ he asks again, ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m okay,’ you croak, ‘I’m just sorry. I hate fighting with you. I don’t know what that was this morning.’

Frankie squeezes you tighter but says nothing, and that scares you more. Maybe you’ve already said too much, maybe it’s already changed everything you’ve shared. The late nights and the lazy mornings, the meals, the conversations you’ve had at all hours, the beds you’ve shared. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you sob, everything catching up with you too quickly. What if you’ve done it? What if you’ve finally pushed him away like you should have done at the start? ‘I’m sorry, Frankie. Are we still friends? Please can we still be friends?’

‘Of course we’re still friends, hermosa.’ He says into your hair, his own voice tight. He angles his head down so his lips brush the top of your head at every word. ‘Of course we're still friends.’ He repeats, but whatever else he goes to say dies in his throat. You try to take deep breaths, try to muffle your crying.

‘God,’ you hiccup, ‘This is so stupid. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry -’ but when you pull away from his chest, Frankie quickly wipes his face with his hands, trying to smother the evidence of his own tears. ‘Frankie -’ you breathe.

‘No, no,’ he says, waving away your concern, ‘I’m fine. I just - I don’t like seeing you upset. Not over me. And - I’m sorry, too. I don’t know where that came from this morning -’ he takes a deep breath, and your heart swoops with a strange disappointment - ‘But I won’t do it again. It was a weird thing for me to do.’

You stay sat up, staring at him as his chin wobbles in the faint lamplight of your room. He looks at you again with big ol’ baby cow eyes, the ones you always giggle about but can’t bring yourself to now.

‘I keep thinking about what I said,’ he whispers, voice thick, ‘And I know it’s too late, but I want to take it all back. I hate it. I hate that I said it. You can see whoever you want - that’s none of my business. And - and I’d hate for you to think that I thought you were some kind of - I dunno - slut for sleeping with him. Because you’re not. I just -’ he swallows, ‘It’s so lame, it’s such a bad excuse. I got jealous. You’re my best friend, we live together. I don’t like the idea of Benny being that for you.’

It’s only as it hangs in the silence between you that Frankie realises just how bad of an excuse it is. How blatantly obvious of a lie, a half truth. You’re my best friend, we live together, and I think I’m in love with you. I don’t like the idea of Benny being something I’m not. I hate the idea of him having his hands on you, making you feel good, when that’s all I can think about. I got jealous because I want you. I want you to myself.

‘It’s only happened twice,’ you breathe, ‘Only twice, and he has never come close to the kind of person you’ve been for me.’

Frankie nods, looks away. He twists his hands in your blanket. He doesn’t want to hear you say it’s okay or I forgive you. He doesn't feel like he deserves it.

‘Did you see her tonight?’ You ask, and Frankie glances back at you. Your voice sounds foreign, too loud in the room.

‘Who?’ He asks.

‘Tasha.’ You whisper, ashamed at your transparency. Frankie stares at you before speaking.

‘I’ve been - I was with Santi.’

You nod, staring down at your hands. 

‘Okay.’

Frankie doesn’t ask you anything else. You don’t ask him, either. Instead, you lie back down, tucking your face into a pillow, unsure of what to do. There’s still a jealous little fire burning in your belly, something he won’t be able to fix overnight. But you don’t want to tell him about it. 

‘You can stay here, if you like,’ you say, voice small. ‘Like a sleepover.’

‘Are you sure?’ Frankie says. You nod.

‘’Course I’m sure.’

And Frankie doesn’t let you think anymore, just pulls you into him, still in his jeans. You breathe him in deeply, wrapping your arms around his waist, and that’s how you sleep. 

—

Tasha doesn't come round to yours again. In fact, Frankie doesn’t even mention her. You try not to think about it too much, and you hardly see her at work. When she greets you at changeover, she’s pretty sheepish, but doesn’t seem at all upset. 

At least that’s one bullet you’ve managed to dodge. If she’d been crying on your shoulder, demanding to know why he hadn’t called, it would have led to a long conversation about feelings you weren’t ready to have with a coworker.

Things settle back into their normal rhythm around the flat, and you almost forget about the fight and the half truths told between the two of you that night. Frankie brings you your favourite flowers and you keep the cupboards stocked with his favourite snacks. He picks you up from work when he’s home, and you cook dinner for him if you get in first. Some evenings you smoke together and watch a film or holler at him playing air guitar in the kitchen to Peach Pit. It's easy. It feels right. And you find yourself slipping into daydreams again.

On a rare Friday night when you’re not working, Frankie packs you up in his truck and you head round to Pope’s. 

Santi’s not keen on throwing the kind of parties Will does, so it takes a fair bit of bribery on his end to keep it to watching a film and sinking some beers with the boys. You’ve become a regular fixture, and tonight you spend it sunk into Frankie’s side, leant against him as the movie plays, listening to the rumble of his chest as he laughs, the bass as he says something to one of the other men. When the movie’s finished, you sit around and dissect it, each of you drinking more and more as though your directorial expertise will improve with alcohol. By the time the tequila is passed around, the five of you have largely lost the sense of the direction the conversation was going in.

Pope tells you you and Frankie can stay. You graciously accept his offer before Frankie can protest, and you wait to wave Benny and Will goodbye before Santi leads you upstairs.

He leads you both to a room along the hallway, opening the door and flicking the light on for you. A huge double bed sits in the middle of the space, and its pillows and duvets look so soft and welcoming you think you could actually cry. 

‘Pope,’ you breathe, ‘This is wonderful.’

He chuckles and rolls his eyes at you.

‘Yeah, yeah, too many beers for you,’ he says, and you swat his arm. ‘I’m gonna get you guys some water. I’ll be back up in a bit.’

The room is quiet again as Santi turns and treads down the hall. You turn to find Frankie stood close by.

‘Whaddya think?’ You ask him. He smiles softly at you through lowered lashes.

‘Looks good to me.’ He says, bending to press a kiss to your hair. You close your eyes and smile, scrunching your face a little. Frankie runs a finger under your chin, and you blink up at him. He is so pretty. ‘C’mon,’ he murmurs, ‘Get ready for bed.’

The two of you split off to other sides of the room, backs turned to each other. You pull your arms into your t-shirt so you can loop yourself out of your bra, undoing the clasp and pulling it out of your top before laying it on the floor. You unbutton your jeans and pull them off next, folding them neatly and using them to cover the lace you’d just stripped yourself of. 

‘I’m gonna get into bed.’ You say softly, giving Frankie the chance to cover himself or get in before you.

‘Go ahead.’ He says, and you turn to find him already tucked up, his jeans slung on the floor a couple of feet away. You gasp in mock horror.

‘Did you watch me?’ You say, slipping in beside him. He laughs. 

‘Only for like, the twelfth time since I moved in.’

You giggle, pressing your face into a pillow to hide your blush. Frankie watches you, his own eyes crinkled and warm.

‘Like what you see?’ You grin. A pretty pink flush spreads across Frankie’s cheeks.

‘Always, hermosa.’ He says.

The quiet moment that follows is only interrupted by Pope appearing in the doorway, carrying two glasses of water. He pauses at the threshold, laughing at the sight of you both tucked in together. 

‘’S like I’m babysitting.’ He chuckles, placing a glass on Frankie’s bedside table before coming round to set one on yours.

‘Are we your favourite children?’ You ask, looking up at him. He strokes your hair.

‘Aw, nena,’ he coos, ‘I don't have favourites.’ 

He laughs when you pout, moving away to grab the cushions from the chair by the window. ‘But,’ he continues, ‘I do have least favourites.’

Santi begins to place the cushions between you and Frankie, creating some kind of barrier. You watch him, confused. He moves to Frankie’s side of the bed to place the last one between your heads, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him.

‘And my least favourite,’ he says, running a thumb along Frankie’s cheek, ‘Is you.’ He whispers, bringing his thumb and finger to Frankie’s nipple, twisting it roughly. Frankie howls, almost leaping off the bed as Pope cackles at him, laughter tumbling from your lips before you can stop yourself.

‘Fuck you,’ Frankie pants, a smile splitting his face even as he still clutches his chest. ‘And what the fuck is this?’ He asks, gesturing to the cushions.

Santi begins to back away to the door.

‘It’s a pillow wall,’ he says, ‘To make sure you two don’t touch each other.’

‘Touch each other?’ Frankie asks. Pope mm-hms.

‘No touching. No funny business.’ 

You scoff at him, unable to help the chuckle that escapes. You look between Santi and Frankie, baffled, wanting to see your roommates reaction.

‘I’m on my best behaviour,’ Frankie laughs, ‘I always keep my hands to myself.’ 

Santi waves him off, turning in the doorway to face you both. He places a finger on the light switch.

‘It’s not you I’m worried about.’ He says to him, turning his face and playfully narrowing his eyes at you. Your arms come flying out from the covers, protesting your innocence.

‘What the fuck?!’ You cry. ‘It was just Benny, one time.’

Santi waits, raising an eyebrow. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

‘Okay, twice, but that does not mean - we are not going to fuck in your house.’

Santi points a finger at you.

‘In my house - interesting. That leaves other possibilities. I’ll ask you about that again tomorrow morning.’

‘Santiago -’ you hiss, but Santi has already flicked the room into darkness, pulling the door softly closed behind him.

‘Sweet dreams,’ he coos, ‘And no fucking.’

Frankie can’t help the disbelieving little chuckle which bubbles out of his throat, but when he turns his face from the ceiling to look at you, he finds you turned with your back to him.

The amusement is gone in a moment. He breathes your name.

‘You okay?’

‘M fine,’ you say, ‘Just gonna sleep. I’m tired.’ 

Frankie turns on his side to face you, trying to make you out in the low light.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ You say again, and he frowns.

‘Was it what Pope said about Be-’

‘No.’ 

Frankie reaches a hand over the cushions between you to touch your shoulder.

‘Hermosa,’ he says, pulling to turn you over. You go easily. ‘What is it?’

In the halflight, he can see you cringe. He waits, leaning over the cushions to see you properly.

‘Does it… isn’t it weird for you, to have the boys joke like that?’

He props himself up more, arms folded over the pillows.

‘Like what?’ He says.

‘Like… they know about Benny. And then they joke about you and me. I mean - if it makes you uncomfortable I can -’

Frankie shakes his head at you.

‘It’s never been weird,’ he murmurs, reaching out to take your hand. ‘Really. God, the jokes we’ve made over the years - we’re getting away with it lightly.’ He smiles at you, and you smile a little back.

‘Okay.’ You whisper. It’s quiet for a moment.

‘It’s a compliment,’ he murmurs, ‘That they think I could get with you,’ You frown at him, at the tinge of sadness in his eyes - wrong - ‘But if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I can tell them to stop.’

You look up to the ceiling, shaking your head. 

‘No,’ you breathe, ‘No, it’s okay. It’s - funny.’ 

What you want to say is that you like it. You like the way the boys have put you together, you like how you come as a pair. You like how the two of you fit.

Frankie moves to kick off the cushions between your legs and reaches to throw off the ones between your bodies and heads. He pulls the hand he was holding towards him so you’re as close as possible, and wraps his arms around you. You do the same. 

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he says, breathing in your smell, feeling your warmth seep through the layers between you. ‘Get some sleep.’ 

You nod against him, clutching his t-shirt in your fists.

‘Okay. Night, Frankie.’

‘G’night, baby.’

In your dream, underneath it all, there is a deep, dark sense of panic.

Even as you chase your orgasm, even as you watch Frankie below you, covered in sweat, hands on your hips, blissed and fucked out, you have the sense that something is wrong. There is a noise pulling at the fibres of your dreamscape, and once you tug on it, it sucks you out of the darkness and into the halflight of Santi’s bedroom.

Your own moaning has woken you, along with the heavy breaths and quiet groans Frankie releases against your head. You rear back from him in horror, realising now what had been happening - the way you had been rutting against his leg in your sleep like a dog, the way you had been moaning, how wet you are -

‘Frankie -’ You begin, but you don’t even know what to say. Shame bursts hot and ripe through your gut. You can barely see him in the dusky room, can barely think through the fog of arousal. 

‘S’okay,’ he pants, hands scrabbling to find you. He takes ahold of your bare thighs. ‘C’mere,’ he says, and you move with him, willing, confused, on fire. ‘D’you wanna finish?’ He whispers.

Every sensible thought you’d had flees, and your mouth replies of its own accord.

‘Yes.’ You moan, feeling your pussy clench as he runs his fingers over your skin. 

It happens in such a fever that you don’t even process what’s happening until you’re already straddled across one of his thighs. Frankie pulls you firmly down onto the muscle and moves your hips so your swollen clit can graze against him. You moan so loudly at the contact that he cups a strong hand around your mouth.

‘Shh,’ he says, ‘Gotta be quiet. Be a good girl.’ Your moan is barely muffled as your eyes roll back. At his words, your hips begin to move of almost their own accord, delirious in your pleasure, his proximity. Frankie helps guide you steadily, pulling you back and forth over him, groaning and breathing deeply as he watches you, eyes molten in the shadows. 

‘So pretty, baby,’ he murmurs as you whine against him, hands scrabbling for purchase in his t-shirt, bunching it above his ribs. Your face burns, and you duck your head down to avoid his gaze. He halts your movements, a hand leaving your hip to touch beneath your chin. Gently, he pulls you back up to meet his gaze

‘Look at me, hermosa,’ he says, and you do, goosebumps flaring over your skin at the fire you find, the way he devours you, undresses you with his eyes. ‘That’s it.’ he groans, allowing you to move again.

You can feel your wetness seeping through your panties, your body jelly, surrendering control to him completely.

‘Frankie,’ you whisper, desperate, begging -

‘Not gonna fuck ya,’ He grits out, throwing his head back as he squeezes the flesh of your bare thighs. ‘Just want you to use me. Show me. Show me how you make yourself come, baby.’

You moan again, loudly, but he doesn't quieten you this time. He lets you grind down on him harder, faster, and you watch the muscles in his neck strain, watch the way his stomach tightens. You watch the way he fists his cock over his boxers, the way he fixes you with his burning eyes.

‘Can I?’ He chokes out, and it doesn’t even sound like him. Breaking, desperate. You nod, frantically, and he slips a hand beneath the material. You watch the way he moves his arm, can only imagine the way his cock looks, the girth you can just about see the outline of, the pearls of precum that would be leaking from the tip. You work yourself up and down his thigh faster, sweat dripping down your temples. He goads you on, murmuring praises, cooing at you, so pretty, so needy, so wet.

‘You gonna come, hermosa?’ He says, and you bite your lip as you whine, the knot so tight you think you might break. Your cunt pulses and clenches as you try to breathe through it, gather some control so you don’t wake up the whole house. ‘C’mon, baby,’ Frankie breathes under you, squeezing and twisting and pulling. ‘Be a good girl. Come for me.’

Your movements turn broken, jerky, as you come. Your blood roars in your ears as you let out a stream of moans and curses, whispers of his name. You can feel that you have soaked through to Frankie’s thigh, and in the moonlight you can see the trail of slick you’ve left. You whimper, your eyes flicking up to Frankie’s as he throws his head back, muscles straining, vein throbbing in his temple as he comes all over his hand in his boxers. You moan at the sight, the way he comes undone underneath you, the way he pants as he soaks in the sight of you a little longer.

Your head still fuzzy, he pulls you down into his arms, giving you no time to panic.

‘That’s it,’ he whispers, kissing your hair. ‘Go back to sleep. It’s all okay. Don’t worry about it. Let’s sleep.’ 

And as easily he had given his command, you shut your eyes, and succumb.

When Santi wakes you both for breakfast the next day, he says nothing about the cushions on the floor. He says nothing of the way you and Frankie avoid looking at each other, and pretends to be oblivious to the permanent blush on your cheeks. He pretends he doesn’t notice something has changed. And he lets you go home believing no one else could guess, either.

—

The flat is quiet for the rest of the week. 

It’s not like you're trying to avoid your roommate, but your schedules have worked out at opposite times, and there’s always something going on. You text each other so neither of you have to worry about where you are. Frankie out with the boys, you out with your friends, a regular’s birthday, a job interview for Frankie.

At the end of the week you finish your shift a little earlier than expected, stumbling through the door, exhausted, a little after eleven. You take a quick, blisteringly hot shower and pull on Frankie’s t-shirt which had gotten mixed up in your washing, a pair of boyshorts on underneath. You roll a joint cross-legged on your bed, Adventure Time humming away in the background, moving to open the window when you’re ready to smoke. You flick the lighter and the joint burns to life, the orange reflecting your face in the glass. 

The front door swoops open in the hallway, and you hear it shut. Hear Frankie go into his room, hear him throw a few things around before he exits and knocks on your door. He pushes it open in his pyjamas.

‘Hey.’ He says.

‘Hey.’ 

He closes the door behind him, coming to join you at the window. He presses a kiss to your temple, a hand on your shoulder as he takes the space next to you on the sill.

You offer him the joint silently. He takes it from you, pinches it between two fingers, takes a couple of draws, and hands it back. 

When you’ve finished sharing it, he turns Adventure Time off and plays Peach Pit through your speaker quietly before crawling into your bed. You stare at him for a moment, unsure, before he holds open the other side of the duvet for you. You come forward on heavy feet before bundling yourself down and snuggling into his side without thinking too hard. It’s pretty easy to do with your smoke-riddled brain.

‘Still friends?’ He rumbles into your hair. You squeeze him tighter.

‘’Course we are.’ You mumble back. 

You don’t get to the end of the first song before slipping into the depths of sleep.

---

The next morning, sun still burning off the nighttime clouds, a text buzzes through to both your phones at the same time.

Y’all coming to Tommy’s party tonight?

You groan at the sight of it, having completely forgotten about the promise you’d made to Will about going to his friend’s birthday party. You smush your face back into your pillow as Frankie kicks your door open, holding two mugs of coffee. 

He chuckles at your bedhead, and you sit up and take your cup, thanking him. Once he’s back beneath the duvet, you remind him about the party. He grumbles, sinking back down onto the mattress, leaving his coffee on your bedside table. You do the same, and he curls up into your side. 

The minutes tick by, warm and quiet. 

‘’M not going.’ You mumble.

‘What do you mean you’re not going?’ Frankie says, drawing his head up from where it’s lodged near your neck, speaking directly into your ear.

You pull a face and pinch your thumb and forefinger together, twisting them like a dial. 

‘Too loud, buddy.’ You say, and he relaxes, murmurs a sorry against your shoulder.

‘Too tired. Ain’t going,’ you say, stretching, ‘And you can’t make me.’

Frankie chuckles.

‘Alright, ya grump.’

You pull him by the forearm, bringing him in closer. He rests his head on your stomach, just below your breasts. He breathes you in, and you run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the silken feel of it. A small ache stretches in your heart. A wish that this be the way every day starts. A small ache over the fact that, even after everything at Santi’s, nothing seems to have changed that much. Nothing has granted that wish.

You get split off from Frankie pretty quick at Tommy’s party. 

He’s not worried about it - he’s used to it. Even despite your protests this morning, he knew you’d be charming your way around the house as soon as you walked through the door. He stands with Pope in the kitchen, a couple beers deep, catching glimpses of you in the hallway making a group of girls laugh.

‘So it’s happened, then?’ Pope says.

Frankie shoots his eyes back to him and cocks his head.

‘What?’ he asks. Pope frowns.

‘You two,’ he says, gesturing towards you with his bottle. ‘You’ve finally, y’know, explored your feelings for each other.’

Frankie’s jaw drops.

‘We - what?’

Santi pulls a face at him.

‘Frankie, it’s okay. It’s fuckin’ obvious to all of us. Even to Benny. You don’t have to dance around it anymore -’ But Frankie is still staring at him, open mouthed, stunned. Realisation folds Santi’s features. ‘Jesus Christ.’ He whispers.

He grabs Frankie’s elbow and hauls him into the pantry, shutting the door behind them. 

‘What are you talking about, Pope -’ Frankie rushes out.

‘Nothing’s happened between you two?’ The man asks, fixing Frankie with his eyes. He squirms.

‘Only one thing,’ he says, ‘But nothing serious. It’s not like we’re in love or anything -’

‘You seriously -’ Pope breaks off, looking around the cupboard, exasperated. ‘Really?’

Frankie frowns at him, barely getting out a yeah- before Santi groans, face in his hands.

He takes Frankie by the shoulders, and shakes him, hard.

‘Are you in love with her, yes or no?’ 

Frankie swallows.

‘Yes.’ 

‘Okay, good. And she’s clearly got it bad for you, Fi-’

‘She doesn’t, Pope, c’mon man -’

Pope grunts at him, knocking his head against Frankie’s shoulder.

‘Stop it,’ he says. ‘I can’t do this, Fish. It’s impossible. You two need to have a conversation. I thought Benny was slow,’ he says, shaking his head, ‘But you… Jesus Christ. Go on, get lost. Go and find her.’

Pope takes him by the shoulders again, pushing him out the pantry.

Frankie stumbles into the kitchen, sets his beer down in a daze. And without quite knowing why, he sets off to find you.

You’re close to the same spot you were in last time he saw you, but sat on the bottom step of the stairs instead, making friends with the pretty, dark-haired girl sat next to you. Frankie leans against the bannister awkwardly and clears his throat. When you look up, your eyes go wide, delighted.

‘Hey sugar,’ you say, reaching out to grab his hand. You turn to the girl beside you, and say - ‘This is Frankie,’ like you’ve been telling her about him. ‘Frankie, this is Sakura.’

Frankie nods tightly to the girl, and she smiles brightly back at him. To his surprise, she stands and slips past him. 

‘I’ll leave you guys to chat,’ she says, winking at you. ‘Catch you later.’

Frankie looks back at you, questioningly. You shrug.

‘Everything okay?’ You ask. Frankie squeezes your hand.

‘Can we talk?’

Frankie leads you into the bedroom furthest away from the top of the staircase, and locks the door. You sit down on the edge of the mattress as he turns the bedside lamp on, bathing the room in a sweet, pink-orange glow.

‘What d’you wanna talk about, baby?’ You ask, laying back and closing your eyes. Frankie can feel himself panicking, can feel the walls getting a little closer. Why was he doing this? 

He closes his eyes for a moment. 

‘I’m gettin’ to it.’ He says, and you hum, lips quirking a little.

The room is quiet for far too long. It’s warm, and the sounds of the party are muffled, close. The bass slinking through the floorboards, the chatter - it’s not unlike the night you met.

Frankie pinches the inside of his arm, trying to will himself to think of something, to say something, but -

‘We should fuck. Like, actually fuck.’

Your eyes are still closed when you say it, and you miss the way Frankie’s jaw falls slack, the way the muscle in his cheek ticks when he wrenches it shut. Frankie watches you, serene, laid out on the bed like an angel. He swallows.

‘You’re drunk.’ He says, soft but firm. He tries to lean against the wall in an unfazed way, and slips a hand into his pocket to will his cock to stop twitching.

‘I’m not drunk,’ you pout, eyes still closed. ‘Unfair how you always think I’m drunk off a few beers. Did you ever think I might just be having a good time?’

Frankie shifts his weight and watches your face; tries to ignore how fast, how hard his heart is beating.

‘Sure. But you’ve had a few beers tonight.’

You crack an eye open at him, a devastating grin growing across your lips.

‘So?’ You purr, ‘Still not drunk.’

Frankie breathes out heavily through his nose, his control of the situation slipping, his mind clamouring at your suggestion. He tries to look away, anywhere around the room, chest pounding. The desk, the wardrobe, the fireplace, the cupboard. But he can’t. His eyes are glued to your body, the way your feet dangle just off the floor, your bare legs, the bunched up skirt which only just covers your thighs. He tries not to let his mind linger on what he can and can’t see in the low light, instead letting his eyes travel to the curve of your hips, the soft swell of your belly, your tits, your glistening neck, your hair splayed out over the duvet, your arms stretching up above your head. Your wanton smile.

‘You don’t mean it. You’d regret it in the morning.’

You suck a breath in through your teeth and open your other eye, rolling them up to the ceiling. You arch your back like a cat, and Frankie barely contains a moan at the stretch, your skirt climbing higher, a slither of skin exposed on your midriff. Your grin fades, a pained little smirk. You swipe a hand over your face. 

Frankie waits. Your eyes slide to his again.

‘I wouldn’t.’ You say. 

Frankie shakes his head.

‘You would.’

You sit up suddenly, hands gripping the sheets.

‘I wouldn’t, Frankie.’ Your eyes are fierce, burning. Frankie swallows.

You duck your head to look at your toes, swinging them just above the carpet.

‘I’ve thought about it a lot,’ you say softly.

Frankie’s mouth goes dry. He tries to work some moisture into his throat to make some kind of noise, something to convey his surprise, but he’s frozen in place. His heart drops to the floor and then picks up at a pace that he can feel hammering in his neck. 

‘Long before that night at Pope’s. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the walls in our apartment are pretty thin.’ You look up at him through your eyelashes, all darkness and mischief. You bite your lip as you wait for the penny to drop.

Fuck. Fuck.

Frankie’s mouth works open as his stomach swoops, knees loose and heavy. His hands are unbearably clammy in his pockets. He brings them to his front, crossing his thick arms over his pounding chest. He says your name quietly.

‘’S’okay,’ you whisper. And then you giggle, face briefly turned to the ceiling, slightly more illuminated. You are so beautiful. 

‘I heard you,’ you murmur, and Frankie wants to beg you to stop, to not say what you’re about to say. He’d rather drop dead. He’d rather leave this house and walk forever if it meant he didn’t have to hear how you’d listened to him moan your name through the drywall. But he can’t. He can only look at you with wide, brown eyes, and hope you’ll grant him this small mercy. 

You cock your head at him, furrowing your brow, looking at him shyly.  

‘Did you really want me, Frankie?’

He’s going to pass out. His blood roars through his ears, straight down to his cock. Frankie can only nod, try and breathe out a yes.

You smile a little, trailing a couple of fingers up your thighs.

‘Did you ever hear me?’ You ask him. His breath catches in his throat.

‘Hear you?’ He whispers.

‘Yeah,’ you breathe. ‘Did you ever hear me, baby?’

Frankie’s throat works as he stares at you. He thinks of the gasps and whimpers he’s heard, the groans and breathy curses. The high pitched noises you breathe out when someone or something fucks into you, your moans when you’re getting close. Your wet body in the shower, the shake of your legs, the grip you had on your own breast, your head thrown back in ecstasy -

Yeah, he’s heard you. But he’s not sure if that's what you’re really asking.

He nods, and you smile, all feline and pleased.

You lower your feet to the floor, and stand from the bed. You pad towards him, every muscle in his body wound impossibly tight. 

‘Did you hear me say your name?’ You ask, your breath fanning against his chin. Frankie fights to keep his arms crossed, to not reach out and touch you. He fixes his gaze on an eyelash cradled on your cheek.

‘My name?’ He croaks. He’s fighting a losing battle, his hard cock betraying him in his jeans.

‘Yeah, Frankie,’ you whisper, ‘I could never think of anyone else.’ 

Your confession hangs in the air between you, and to gauge its truth, Frankie’s eyes dart up to meet yours. His resolve crumbles immediately. You stare up at him, eyes big and wide and clear. The realisation is crushing - not drunk, not high, honest and wanting and hopeful -

Frankie’s hands drop to his sides, twitching to reach for you, grab your tiny skirt in both fists, hold to your thighs -

‘Can I kiss you?’ You murmur against his jaw.

‘Please.’ He whimpers.

Your hands make their slow journey from your sides to his stomach, and Frankie flinches at the contact. You pause, looking up at him. He swallows and nods, and you continue. You push both palms over his stomach, over his chest, resting them on his shoulders. You admire every plane of his body, even through clothes, before reaching up on your tiptoes, wrapping both your hands around the nape of his neck, tangling them in the curls there.

Frankie breathes heavily, watching you, eyes tracking all over your face as you go. He traces every freckle, every mole. Each colour in your eyes, the shape of your nose, the bow of your lips. He lets his hands drift towards you, lets both of them rest on your hips to pull you closer, squeezing your soft flesh before bringing one up to cup your cheek. He inclines his head, and your eyes flutter shut.

The first meeting of your lips is soft. It’s warm and gentle and everything you had wanted it to be. It should have been the quiet kiss you had over coffee in the morning, the kind of kiss you shared after a first date. But here, it’s perfect. 

Frankie brushes his thumb over your cheek before dipping his hand lower, hinging your jaw to open your mouth to him. He licks your bottom lip and you grant him access, moaning into the kiss. His grip on your hip tightens.

The movement of your mouths is slow, languid. There is no rush. Just gentle pressure, acknowledgement as it all falls into place. The feeling that this is what the two of you were made for. This is what you’ve avoided for too long. 

Frankie’s tongue swipes against yours, and you tug on his hair. He groans into your mouth, the hand on your jaw dropping to your waist, pulling you closer. 

You press your chest against him, kiss him back harder, slipping a hand down past his shoulder to scrape at the skin under his t-shirt. Frankie shudders against you, the hand on your hip moving to grab a handful of your ass, the one on your waist inching up to your breast. You breathe against his lips as he feels you, moaning as he palms you over your top, as your nipples tense, flicking one with his thumb. 

He nips and kisses at your jaw as your hands travel back to his chest, one catching on his belt, stroking his hip as you whine, your whole body warm and sensitive. You step closer to him again as he drops the hand on your ass, bringing it to cradle the back of your neck as he continues to work on your jaw, your tits. 

‘Frankie,’ you breathe, and he returns his mouth to yours for a slow, deep kiss. He bites your bottom lip as you pull away to slip a hand lower to palm him through his jeans. He’s so hard already, you can feel him straining against the zipper, and it seems to match the dry heat you feel for him, something which burns its way down your throat and straight to your cunt. It aches, and your lace beneath your skirt is so wet that the only thing you want to do is take them off. 

Frankie groans loudly against you, both hands coming to cup your face so he can kiss your forehead slowly, tenderly.

He pulls your face back so he can look you in the eye. The intensity there stops your movements, stills your hands.

‘I love you.’ He says. 

The noise from the party below fades to an almost nothing as something bright and white fills the room. Joy, relief blooms in your chest.

‘What?’ You say.

Frankie’s eyes crinkle at the corners.

‘I love you.’ He repeats.

You giggle as the feeling overtakes you, sway in his arms as you become lightheaded.

‘I love you, too.’ You whisper, and Frankie breaks out into a grin. It all seems so simple now, all seems so easy. It all makes sense. All the bullshit, the touching, the looks. Frankie kisses you again, all tongue and teeth and smiles before he chuckles.

‘Fucks sake,’ he mumbles.

‘What?’ You ask, still grinning.

‘Now I have to tell Pope he was right. That you do like me.’

You laugh at him, pulling him close by the hip, a hand tangled in his hair again. 

‘I do like you,’ you say. ‘I like you quite a lot.’

You dip your hand back to the front of his jeans, palming his cock in earnest. His hips buck against you as he groans into your mouth, as he slips his hands down to your tits again, this time yanking your top up to expose them. Frankie moans at the sight of the lace you’re wearing, thumbing and twisting and pinching your nipples again.

‘You’re gonna kill me,’ he whines as you begin to undo his belt.

‘Panties match.’ You breathe into his collarbone, and he moans, ducking his head to your neck, sucking at your pulse point, biting and then licking to soothe the mark he’s made.

You pant against him, growing frustrated with your sloppy fingers on his buckle. He chuckles at you, guiding your hands away before replacing them with his own. He whips it off and throws it down by his feet. You lick your lips. Hungry, impatient.

‘Come to bed, Frankie. Please.’

‘Be patient, baby,’ he coos. ‘We have so much time.’

You pout at him, and he smirks.

But an idea is already forming. If he's not going to come to bed, you’re going to go to him.

You smile sweetly as you step back towards him, reaching a hand up to his cheek to draw him in for a kiss again. Frankie lets you, and you take the moment to pop open his button and undo his zipper. He breathes out shakily against your lips, but you suck on his bottom lip, licking, nipping, until he regains his focus. When you slip your hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, he shudders, gasping against you. You smile into his mouth before tipping his head back and sucking marks into his neck. Deep and hard so they bruise, licking into the hollow of his throat as you finally wrap your hand around his cock. Your fingers don’t meet, and you moan at this realisation, eager to feel the stretch, the burn as you take him. You grip him tighter, running your fist along his shaft, pulling at the soft skin until you reach his tip, thumbing the precum over the rest of his length. When you’re satisfied he’s been teased enough, you drop down to your knees. 

He watches you, one hand pressed to your cheek, your temple, your hair as you look up at him all doe-eyed, pulling his jeans and boxers down so that his length can spring free. When Frankie’s cock lurches out from his underwear, you loose a gasp and a groan. He’s beautiful. So thick, so soft-looking as he twitches under your gaze, tip deeply flushed and oozing precum, his balls heavy beneath.

‘Fuck, baby,’ you breathe. Frankie inhales deeply through his nose, his hand still tangled in your hair as he says, quietly -

‘You don’t have to do this.’

‘I know,’ you say, ‘But I want to.’ 

Frankie’s grip in your hair tightens imperceptibly, and you hum quietly, licking your lips before curling over your palm and spitting into it. Frankie groans above you, full lower lip caught behind his teeth, his head cocked to the side. His broad chest rises and falls quickly, flushed.

His breath catches harshly in his throat when you reach out and touch him. He throbs in your hand, and you smile delightedly up at him when again your fingers don’t meet around him. You lean forward to mouth at his hip, and his hips buck towards you as you lick, kiss, suck, and bite. You want to leave marks everywhere, want him to remember this for days, to feel your teeth on him for weeks. You stroke him slowly and tightly all the time, moving down to his thighs, coating his skin in your saliva, nipping at the soft flesh there, moving your mouth up, up, up, reaching out with your tongue to kitten-lick his balls.

Frankie’s fist balls in your hair as he lets out a whimper, and you smirk into him, nudging forward to breathe in his musky scent. 

‘Please,’ he whispers, ‘Please, hermosa -’

‘Be patient, baby,’ you say, mocking him. ‘We have so much time.’

He doesn’t answer with words, but he uses the fist in your hair to move you further out from his body so your mouth sits so pretty, a little open, in front of his weeping cock. You grin up at him, clearly enjoying the tease.

Holding his eye, you pull your top and bra down to just below your tits, exposing your pebbled nipples. You rock back on your heels to play with them a little, twisting and pinching and moaning before Frankie tries to push you a little closer.

‘Fuck, put me in your mouth,’ he growls. ‘Put me in your mouth while you play with yourself like that, baby. Lemme fuck your throat.’

You moan lewdly back up at him, giving your tits one last squeeze before you take his tip between your lips, swirling your tongue over the tight skin, fluttering it over his frenulum. Frankie throws his head back in a choked moan, his whole body rigid as he tries his best not to thrust all the way into your mouth. You bring your hands to his thighs and scrape your nails along them gently before pressing forward. You loosen your jaw and take him as far as you can, satisfied when you feel him hit the back of your throat, when he hisses through his teeth.

‘Fuck,’ he grits, ‘Fuck, so good - your mouth feels so good, cielo - can you feel me all the way back there? Can you -’

He cuts himself off as you swallow around him, tasting the salt of his precum as he lets out a pained sound, his cock achingly swollen. You pull off him slowly.

‘Keep talking,’ you rasp, ‘It’s sexy.’

His cock is already so wet from your throat that he slides back in easily. Frankie rocks as you hum around him at the taste, the feel, the weight of it. Salt pools in your mouth when he whimpers again, as you swirl circles on his pulsating head, as you lick long stripes up him and cup his balls.

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he says, louder this time. ‘Never knew you had such a mouth, babygirl. All those smart things and - fuck - this is what it was made for - made for me, made for my cock - shit - aren’t you?’ 

You move faster as Frankie babbles, as you feel the drips from his cock warm the heat in your belly further, take him deeper. His hips begin to move almost beyond his will, not harsh, not pressing, but like he just can’t help himself. Tears well in your eyes and begin to drip down your cheeks, flushed, hungry, proud. You hum again and swallow around him, reaching between your legs, hiking your skirt up so you can push your ruined panties aside. Your pussy is soaked, embarrassingly so, and you moan around him again, losing focus for a second at the first fingertip you press to your aching clit.

‘Wanna fuck you,’ Frankie pants out, ‘Please, wanna fuck you baby - let me out your mouth, come on now - please, baby, please, baby - fuck - fuck -’

You flick your eyelashes up at him as you bob at the same pace as your fingers, and Frankie damn near loses it at the sight of your hand disappearing up towards your cunt.

‘Get off - get off, lemme fuck you like you need, baby - fuck, fuck - shit -’

You smirk around him, enjoying this, enjoying seeing him strung out, begging, throbbing in your mouth as he tries desperately to keep from coming.

‘Stop,’ he moans. You hollow your cheeks and whine again, but this time he pulls you off quickly, strong with his hand in your hair, and the sting of it feels delicious. Frankie stands half ruined above you, panting, closing his eyes at the sight of the string of spit connecting your mouth to his twitching cock. ‘Please, baby,’ he says, ‘Be good. I don’t want to come down your throat in five minutes the first time we do this.’

You blink up at him through your tears, and he makes a low noise in the back of his throat.

‘Come here,’ he murmurs, pulling you gently back up to your feet. He sits you down on the bed, and you haul yourself further back on your elbows. He watches you, stepping out of his shoes, his pants and underwear, throwing off his shirt to some dark corner of the room as he sets a knee on the bed and comes crawling towards you. The sight reminds you of another night, him on your bed, you at the window - 

‘Let me undress you,’ he murmurs against your neck, his cock heavy and wet against your thigh You arch your back up into him, too hot, aching, too wet -

‘Please,’ you gasp.

Frankie pulls you forwards by your jaw, tugging your shirt over your chin as you sit up, hands reaching greedily for his skin. He lets you as he unfastens your bra, whipping it away from your chest, moaning as he takes you in. His lips latch to your collarbones as he shuffles away from you, and your hands fly to his hair. He bites and licks and sucks and kisses in the same way you did, moaning against you as you tug on his curls, as you buck your hips up to bump at his cock. He makes his way lower, pressing feather light kisses to your sternum, to the top of each breast, before closing his lips around your nipple, sucking and biting and swirling. You gasp, pressing yourself as close to him as possible, the ache in your pussy almost painful now. Frankie plants a hand by your head to hold himself up, letting the other one fall to your thigh, dancing on your feverish skin.

‘Frankie -’ you plead, but it’s useless, useless as he releases your nipple with a pop, only to give the other the same attention.

Grunting, you shift your hips, wiggling your hands down to your skirt, pushing it down and halfway off.

‘Hey,’ Frankie grunts, stopping his ministrations altogether to pin both of your hands above your head. You arch your chest and Frankie nips at the mound of flesh you present to him, his acknowledgement of you continuing to play dirty. He breathes your soft skin in, slow and deep, before looking up at you. His eyes are hot, molten, and you whine and twist in his grip as his nostrils flair. ‘Keep your hands up here, y’hear me?’ He says. You nod furiously, and he squeezes your wrists again before slowly letting you go.

Before slowly backing down the bed, slowly kissing your chest, your belly, before slowly spreading your thighs, before burying his face in your lace-covered pussy, mouthing at you behind the fabric, breathing in and groaning out.

‘Soaked through, baby,’ he breathes. ‘That all for me?’

Yes, you think, as his fingers hook around the waistband, as he begins to pull them down and off. Feeling the cool air meet your hot, slick centre and hearing the sound of his breath hitch at the visual. All for you. He opens you up wider once your underwear is off, and looks up at you through his eyelashes, flushed, fucked out already.

‘You look so - fucking good like this.’ He says.

You nudge your hips gently up to his face, and he finally, finally indulges, flicking his tongue out to scoop up your arousal, to swallow it down, to groan as he laps at your clit. 

It almost hurts, how good it feels. This slow, hot, velvet texture licking at you, pointed where it needs to be, soft wherever else, as he delves and dives and slurps and draws every imaginable sound from you. You’re past the point of coherent words, just bucking hips and fingers that scrape through his curls, muffled pleases and Frankies as he works you out in circles and figure eights. As he spreads your lips with his fingers for better, more sensitive access, as he sucks your clit into his mouth, as he slips a finger in. And then another.

The stretch is delicious, even if you know it’s not a patch on what’s coming.

Frankie hums deeply in the back of his throat, his eyes closed and face wet with slick. You watch him, amazed. Your best friend who you’ve seen in almost any scenario. Sharing dinner, out for walks, changing batteries, below you as you ground out an orgasm on his thick thigh - but nothing, nothing can compare to the blissed out, sweaty sight of him between your thighs. Brow furrowed and curved in pleasure and concentration, mouth working over you. Thick curls falling over his forehead, his fingertips pressed into your thighs, the other hand pressed deep inside you.

This is heaven. This is fucking heaven, laying here as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, curved up towards that spot you can never quite reach yourself. The band of heat, of light which has been bunched up at the apex of your thighs is tightening, tightening, and you can feel it inside you as your muscles clench, turn solid. 

‘Frankie - Frankie - Frankie -’ you gasp, trying to warn him as a molten high tide rises in your body, as your hips lift, as you work yourself further onto him, as your hands twist and clutch at the bed, at your tits.

He doesn’t pull his mouth away to hum an mmhmm in encouragement against your clit, and you squeeze your eyes shut tight, the pressure unbearable.

‘Gonna come - fuck - I’m gonna come Frankie, fuck -’

It’s fucking devastating. The rip and heat which tears through you, your body erupting in ecstasy, as something hot, heavy, and destructive sears through you. 

Your back arches and the darkness behind your eyes contracts to red, limbs rigid as you shatter in his mouth, as he continues to lick and suck and take every drip which floods itself out of you, grunting and gasping as he chuckles, as he tells you -

‘Good girl, baby, good girl. Fuckin’ delicious. You look so good baby, squeezing my fingers so tight. God, what’d I do, what’d I do to deserve this.’

You feel yourself radiate across the room, illuminating every corner before banding back into yourself. For a while, there is only the pant of your breath and Frankie’s muffled voice and something hot and wet moving against your pulsing clit. You don’t know how long you’ve been gripping his hair for, or how hard, but you slowly let go, teasing your fingers from his curls as you breathe. Frankie pulls his fingers out of you and you groan at the loss, eyes fluttering shut, head rolling to your shoulder. He sucks your clit into his mouth one more time, and you jerk away from the overstimulation.

Frankie crawls back up the bed again, and you open his eyes when his warm hand presses to your cheek. He’s grinning at you, thrilled as he holds his used fingers out in front of your lips. Wordlessly, you pull them into your mouth, tongue working to clean him of your taste. He swoops a breath out, removing his fingers gently when you’re done before leaning in to kiss you. He tastes salty sweet, beard heavy with the smell of you as he ghosts his hands all over your body. He swallows.

‘How do you want me, querida?’ He whispers.

You want him in every position, and you seem to tell him as much. He laughs as he plants more kisses to your lips, tongue darting out to find yours, to trace the line of your throat. You watch, delirious, as he settles between your thighs, thumbing over your clit so you twitch again. 

‘Want you on your back, like this,’ he murmurs, ‘Wanna watch you take me.’

You nod at him, utter something like a please, a thank you, a Frankie as he notches himself at your entrance, the fat head of his cock already bruising, already stretching. Frankie sees it, flicks his eyes to yours.

‘Are you sure you’re ready?’ he asks, kindly, softly. You hook your legs around his hips by way of answer, pulling him closer, toppling him forward. A big, bright smile blossoms over his cheeks, creasing his crows feet. You can’t help but mirror him, pressing a hand to his chest, the other tangling in the nape of his neck.

‘I love you,’ you breathe against his teeth. He lays his forehead against yours.

‘I love you,’ he murmurs.

Frankie cants his hips forward, and the bruising feeling gives way to something which is almost sharply painful as it pulls through you. The pain quickly dulls to a full ache as Franlie slides a little further forwards, watching you, tracing every part of your features. You hook your legs higher around his waist and wrap your arms around the back of his neck, keeping him close as you breathe, as you whine and leak around him. Frankie drinks it all in, giving soft praises, pushing back from you so he can take it in. Your slick, puffy cunt split open and stretched around him, and your body, glowing, sweaty, layed out lazily, knees spread and dropped either side of your chest as you watch him, brow furrowed, lip bitten. 

He’s going too slow. 

Far, far too slow for the pressure already rebuilding in your gut, for the way he presses against every place inside your body. You move your hips to fuck yourself down his cock a little more, and one of his big hands shoots out to stop you. 

‘Easy, baby, easy. Take it slow. Doin’ so good for me, look at you.’

You whine, back arching again, and he groans low and full.

‘Stop doing that,’ he says, ‘Making yourself look so good. I’m tryna make this good. I’m tryna make this last.’

Frankie latches his mouth back to your skin, forming bruises as he bottoms out, as he waits for you to beg him.

‘Wanna feel you tomorrow,’ you huff, warm against him. ‘Wanna remember, wanna be sore. God, Frankie, please - please move. I need you to, you have to -’ words fail at the slow drag of his cock, heavy against your walls. Your throat constricts as he pauses and begins to push back in, picking up the pace every time. Your noises are  keening and needy, and he brushes the hair back from your face.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ He coos.

You make a breathless, high-pitched noise at every punch of his hips, and Frankie lifts his head to swallow them as they fall from your lips. And it’s unfair. Unfair that a word like ‘fucking’ is what has to be used for this, for how tightly you have to cling to him to make sure you’re not flung into outer space. You grip his biceps as you watch him, legs wrapped around his waist again so he can drive in deeper, deeper, deeper, as you get louder, louder, louder -

‘Benny fuck you like this, baby?’

The question takes you by surprise, though perhaps it shouldn’t. It riles something in your gut, a satisfaction, a delight, because he knows. Already knows as he fucks you, as he cages you in and stares at you, your body, the way you fit together and move, the noises you’re making, the look on your face, the way you choke him tighter and tighter -

‘Fuck no, Frankie. God, fucking - no -’

Frankie grunts deep, accentuating your response with a particularly sharp thrust which makes you cry out and see stars. You grit your teeth, feeling the coil tighten further, craning to meet his lips.

He pecks them as he thrusts, sucking your lips, biting when he can.

‘You asked if I heard you,’ he pants, and you hold your breath. ‘I heard you - fuck - so many times, baby. Fucked my fist to you so many times. Couldn’t think of anything else but your little moans and noises.’

You clench excruciatingly around him, and he makes that same pained noise from before.

‘And I saw you, too,’ he gasps. Your eyes lock, his black and earnest, like he could devour you and the universe whole. You feel something loosen and pull inside of you. ‘Once, in the shower. And I couldn’t look away, couldn’t forget - but I wished I could, you were just -’ He swallows into your neck as you begin to pulsate, his words pushing you closer. You know what he’s talking about, had wondered for weeks, had had fantasies and hoped for months, fuck - ‘And then at Santi’s, feeling you lose yourself on top of me, feeling you come, god -’ he grits out. ‘I could live with loving you, just about. I could, if I wasn’t what you needed. But when I heard you say my name like that in your sleep, baby, when I felt you push it out on me, I had to know, I had to know - you feel so goddamn good. Nothing should ever feel this good. Nothing ever has.’

And then, because you can’t help it, because you need to hear it, you choke out -

‘Tasha?’ And he shakes his head, breathing raggedly.

‘Nothing,’ he says, ‘Fucking - nothing.’

You eyes spin back in their sockets, and you claw at him, something white hot just within your grasp, your pussy throbbing -

‘Frankie,’ you cry, ‘Frankiefrankiefrankiefrankiefrankie -’ in a warning, a prayer, a promise; and he answers you, the aquiline curve of his nose pressing into your cheek as he coaxes you, begs you, tells you to come for him. 

It’s too much, the movement of him, the size, the weight. He doesn’t need to touch you anywhere else as you splinter apart beneath him, shards of light splashing across the walls as you heat and combust, as you tighten and tighten and then burst, wet against his lap, against the sheets, as you cling on to him, as you shake and gasp and gasp out any noise you can. Your pussy flutters and contracts around him, and Frankie grunts and moans in your ear, breath hot, cock twitching and so hard inside your body.

‘Where -?’ He chokes out.

‘Inside.’

And fresh dizziness laps at your temples as you feel him pump inside your body, as you feel his cock jump with his spend, as he softly fucks it in to you. The squelch, the wetness, is obscene. You want to be full like this all the time. 

You lay there for sometime, wrapped up in each other, his cock still keeping you plugged, as you breathe in each other’s air and whisper your thoughts and confessions. Frankie keeps you close, legs tangled, softening, tracing shapes on your bare shoulders in the glow of the lamp as the sounds of the party slowly begin to filter back through the crack under the door.

‘Hope Tommy doesn’t mind us using the bedroom.’ You murmur, and he snorts.

‘Bit late now,’ he says. ‘Hope Will doesn’t like him too much.’

You laugh, knocking his shoulder with your fist. He makes to bite at it, clicking his teeth together as you pull it away. You grin at each other, eyes gleaming and full.

‘I love you.’ He says again.

You hum into his shoulder, stifling a yawn. ‘Love you, too.’

There’s quiet for a moment, your head clear, before Frankie shifts beside you.

‘We’re still friends though, right?’ He says into your hair, and watches as you laugh, loud, tucking your face into his neck.

‘You asshole,’ you giggle, glancing up into his eyes. ‘’Course we are.’

He hums into your scalp, tangling his legs with yours further. You run your feet up his calves.

His thumb strokes along the back of your knuckles, and his breath tangles in your hair. Soft kisses are pressed to any inch of skin he can find, and you bury your face in his neck, nipping and soothing, smiling like an idiot.

You don’t think you’ll ever be friends again. But maybe that’s a good thing.