#I’M HUNGRY FOR MORE MUSIC TO LISTEN TO

[bunnymello]

HELLO MUSIC LIKERS OF TUMBLR!!!!

if you’ve been wanting to yap about the music you like and share it with other people, then you’re in luck because i have found myself in need of new music to listen to and add to my playlists because i LOVE music and i want more!!!! so with that being said, i would like to ask all of you to pitch in and provide a playlist of your favorite songs (or just any song you want to share, really) on spotify for me to listen to!! it can be anywhere from 5-100 songs as long as it’s not TOO long of a listen LOL

i also feel the need to aggressively throw the songs i like at other people, so if you’re also looking for new music, i made a playlist of all my favorite songs over the years in case you wanted to listen to it! it’s got 80 songs in it and it’s about 4 and a half hours long, but you don’t need to listen to it all if you don’t want to! it’s sorta like a you-share-your-music-and-i-share-mine kinda deal

anyway, give me all your silly little wiggly air to force into my earholes because i need more music to listen to! i might even rank my favorite songs from your playlist once i finish listening to it, so i’m looking forward to hearing all of your favorite music!!!!!

here’s the link to the playlist i made: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4vKKowe5heH1fACIHXpfRY?si=6mWlAvSPSpqiQLiyz2ObMw&pi=u-AjEvlpgYR4Su

[okcoolthanks]

I’m afraid I drifted too far

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.11 i feel so high school

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 11/x (probably 18)

ᰔ words. 11.1k

a/n. hi friends! omg this chapter took me forever to finish even though i had 90% of it done for sooooo long. i just had a lot of self doubt for it :'') i have said this before n i'll say it again my mind is a prison smhhh. ANYWAYS i had the song "so high school" off of taylor swift's ttpd album (sped up ver.) on BLAST while writing this chap so if you wanna experience what i experienced while i wrote this chapter i highly recommend listening to it too lol it's pretty much this chapter's anthem hahah. hope you enjoy and i'll see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or errors im sorry im just a girl

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

It’s a sunny Thursday afternoon, sun beating down on your skin from where you walk on sidewalk that's damp from sprinkler spray, although you’re not sure as to why, because the path leading to the host house is adorned with artificial turf all around that glitters with a wetness it didn’t need. The weather is getting hotter these days, and seemed to have flipped suddenly from gloomy overcast into full blown spring-time heat that has a thin layer of sweat sheening over your skin. Thank God for Mina, who convinced you to switch out of the jeans you were planning to wear in favor of something shorter and lighter, otherwise you would’ve been toasted. Although her true desire was for you to just “wear something cuter”, like the thin slip dress you’ve got on right now. 

The smell of barbeque smoke fills the air, and you see Mina in your periphery put a hand over her stomach.

“God, I’m so hungry,” she says as you two continue to walk up the sidewalk. Plastic pink flamingos line up on dirt, like arrowheads leading you towards suburban paradise. When there’s loud boombox music playing openly into the air, and sounds of people whoo!!-ing to pair, you know you’re close by. 

There’s a guy standing at the white picket fence entrance that leads into the backyard court, and he’s super familiar in the face. You recognize him as that guy you shared a couple shots of tequila with at that SAE party a while back, but his name fails to come to memory. He’s checking people’s phones and letting them in.

“Hey, Mina,” he greets her with familiarity, likely since Mina’s been to more SAE events than you have, given her and Todo are inseparable these days. His eyes flicker to you, widened and he greets you by name too, and now you feel awful that you don’t remember his. But he’s got one of those tacky corporate My name is… stickers plastered across his chest with the name Ryota scribbled across it, along with a drawing of a penis in a different colored marker, which you can only assume someone else drew on there and Ryota was simply Too Lazy To Care. 

He scans Mina’s phone first and then moves to scan yours, but not without letting out a huh noise and then you’re asking him what?

“Oh, nothing,” he says, “it’s just, in my four years of pledging for SAE I don’t think I’ve ever seen Satoru actually use one of his plus ones.”

You blink at him, feeling a twinge of heat in your cheeks. You’re dying to know more info about that, but he reaches over behind the fence gate to release the lock and then he opens it, gesturing for the two of you to head inside before he’s helping the people behind you.

The backyard is huge, it’s own concrete jungle with a tile-parameterized pool off to the left equipped with a jacuzzi in the corner, and only a couple of insane people choose to sit in that hot water while most of the rest are relaxing in the pool. Off to the right is the barbeque grill space, with SAE frat brothers distanced at stations as they yell things to one another like Hey, where’s the medium rare steak I asked for a half hour ago?!?!? and it’s fookin’ raw!!! like they’re on an episode of Hell’s Kitchen, but there’s a growing line of people standing eager with paper plates in their hands ready for lunch, so maybe the pressure was indeed on. 

Your eyes take in more as you step inside. There’s fake sandy gravel arranged near the pool over plastic tarps, which you’re assuming are stretched across for easy clean-up, and it doesn’t take you long to realize that this was a tropical-themed barbeque event. A makeshift bar is tucked over in the back at the outdoor kitchen counter, some beachside-mimicking establishment with seashells hanging and surfboards leaning as the guy shaking drinks has blackout shades on and is entirely too engrossed in his role. They’ve even got a little corner over where the concrete meets brick seating in a little closed off garden where there’s a projector screen set up and people are screaming, controllers in hand, while making enemies over a game of mario kart. 

You and Mina walk by two guys talking, a conversation that goes like—

frat bro 1: imma take your mom’s virginity bro

frat bro 2: she’s not a virgin bro. she gave birth to me 

frat bro 1: but bro. you don’t know that.

frat bro 2: …..you’re right bro…..i don’t….bro……..

–and then you hear Mina say “I’m already losing brain cells here.”

“Hey!!” you hear a familiar voice yell, your head turning in the direction of it, and you see Geto storming across the hot concrete towards the pool and he loses one of his flip flops in the process then steps barefoot on painful fake sandy gravel and he cusses under his breath before hopping over to the aqua-colored tile surrounding the water. “NO FOOD IN THE POOL!!! C’mon guys, how many times do I have to say it?!?!” 

You take a few cautious steps towards him because he looks like he’s on edge, well, literally, he’s balancing on the pool’s edge, but when he makes eye contact with you he looks pleasantly surprised. 

“Oh! Hey, y/n,” he approaches you, “and Mina. It’s nice you guys came.”

You give a little wave and Mina does too.

“I think Satoru’s somewhere out back getting supplies,” he tells you with a point over his shoulder and he deftly ducks his head under when he sees a pool ball flying his way in his periphery before it falls to your feet. You pick it up and throw it back to the outstretched arms in the water. 

“Oh, thanks,” you respond. “How’s it going? You look stressed.”

He sighs and you see he’s got a lot more hair falling over his forehead than what usually escapes his tight bun. “It’s going–...fine. Our social chair has been out this past week so I’ve been in charge of making sure things go smoothly today.” 

“Ohhh,” you and Mina acknowledge in unison.

You get some weird spidey sense, perhaps it’s your keen way of just knowing, or maybe you and him are cosmically connected by now, but you can just sense that Gojo’s near. You raise yourself a little on your tiptoes to peer past Geto’s shoulder, and sure enough, you see Gojo approaching with boxes of stuff in his arms. Geto becomes aware of your line of sight, and then he’s turning around to face him too.

“Hey,” he says, “why’re you carrying a box of condoms?”

“Huh?” Gojo says with a tilt of his head before he looks down at the stuff he's piled up, “oh, I dunno, Hide said he needed ‘em for something. But it’s Hide, so it’s definitely not for sex.”

There’s another man that lightly jogs up to Gojo, and you notice he’s got barbeque grease stains all over the front of his shirt and on his cheek too, as well as a cafeteria lunch lady hair net over his head. “Oh awesome, thanks man, needed these.” He takes the box of condoms from the top of the pile in Gojo’s arms, “we ran out of gloves.”

“Ohhh,” Geto says, with a few slow nods of understanding, before the realization flashes across his face, “........WAIT, WHAT?”

There’s some absurd conversation that breaks out between Hide and Geto, and then a loud thud startles you when Gojo drops everything he was carrying to approach you. You take in the entirety of his appearance– black shorts that hem at the rounds of his knees, a loose sleeveless shirt that shows off the flexed muscles of his arms a little too fucking much for your sanity’s sake, and he’s got his hair peaking out underneath a snapback he’s pulled on over his head. He looks so insanely fratty and douchey and the way he’s got his arms spread open as he gets into your space with that where my hug at? look on his face before he dips his head down to kiss you has you shoving him away by a palm pushing under his chin until now he’s just staring up at blue sky.

“Um, excuse you,” you say, “why are you greeting me like you’re my man.”

He groans and grabs your wrist to pull your hand away from his chin. “For fucks sake, let me be your man. We’re already dating in my head anyway.”

There’s another guy that approaches the group forming here, and he crouches down to open up the cardboard boxes Gojo abandoned on the floor. “Who the fuck was responsible for defrosting these hot dogs?! They’re solid as rock!!” 

Geto sighs, rubbing an exhausted hand across his face. “Oh, uh, Mina, y/n, this is Hide, and this is Sota,” he gestures to the two of them, “our other two housemates.”

The four of you exchange pleasantries and then Todo suddenly comes up behind Gojo, slinging his arm around him, before grabbing Mina’s hand from afar and placing a wet, sloppy kiss to the back of it. 

“My lady,” he says, retreating his arm from Gojo to fully step into Mina’s space, “shall we?”

She looks at you in courtesy, and you nod in approval, and then the two skip off together towards the pool. There’s shouting from the barbeque station and Hide and Sota make haste to get over there to put out a grill fire that their neglect was most likely the cause of.

“Um, where’s the restroom?” you ask, turning your head around to look. You just now notice there’s a pool house stretching across most of the courtyard with floor to ceiling sliding glass doors, past the arch that connects the main house to the garage. 

“You can try the one downstairs in the house,” Geto says, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Uh, I wouldn’t,” Gojo interjects, “unless you wanna be traumatized by the sight of a girl swallowing Choso whole while he’s seated on the toilet.”

Your nose curls up so high you can see it between your eyes. “No thanks,” you say.

Gojo grabs your hand, and he’s tugging you across the concrete. You’re still in sensory overload over all the stimuli around you, but your head is vaguely registering the fact that people are staring at you. Some with curiosity, others with studying eyes, some turned away, some turned towards, yet eyes still watching and you remember Ryota’s words from earlier about the history of Gojo’s never-used invites. The attention is a little nerve-wracking, but Gojo squeezes your hand twice as if he knows what you’re thinking right now, and the gesture puts you at ease. It’s been a week since the embarrassing and frightening intervention you had with Kai last week, and it’s sad to say, but Gojo and the other guys on the soccer team that helped you out that night are pretty much the only men you feel truly comfortable around right now. 

Gojo walks you to the pool house, and he points towards the inside to where the restroom is, and you thank him before hurrying in. You didn’t even need to pee, it’s just become some weird ritual for you to check in with yourself in front of a bathroom mirror at social events as you needlessly fix barely smudged mascara and smooth down the fabric of your clothing. 

Just have fun, is what you tell yourself in the mirror. There’s a sad sinking feeling underneath your rib cage when you realize you’re graduating in less than two months. Going to classes, doing assignments, having coffee dates with friends, organizing stuff for clubs, going to social events, just being an undergrad student who has all the fear in the world and no care for it, all the little things that have become a part of your life and have given you purpose, it’s all going to be gone soon, and you’ll have to fill the time and space with new things that give you purpose. Things that you want to carry with you into your adult life. Your actual adult life. Out in the “real world”, or whatever. And while the thought is scary, you also remind yourself that you’ve still got time left to just enjoy your college experience for what it is. You take some deep breaths, of which somehow make you a little more nervous than before, but it’s fine. You swallow the feeling. 

Gojo’s still standing outside the pool house where you left him, except he’s leaned back against the exterior and talking to a few of his frat brothers. 

“Hi,” you approach, sparing a small smile to the people he’s talking to just to be polite, but you’re not interested in any introduction. Your finger pokes Gojo’s elbow, and he leans himself off the wall, says some words of see ya around to the group and then he’s grabbing your hand again to lead you towards a different area of the backyard. The makeshift beachside bar.

He greets the guy behind the bartop with a solid grab of his hand and then he leans over the counter on one elbow, eyes on you. “Want something to drink?” he asks.

Your eyes squint to take in the writing scribbled across the blackboard hung up behind the counter. “Oh, no way,” you say when you realize the drinks are named after the players on the soccer team, albeit with cheeky twists on their names, all in anticipation of tomorrow’s win.

There’s a grin on Gojo’s face, “you should get mine.”

“What is yours?” you ask.

“Uh, I actually have no clue,” he confesses as he scratches his cheek and glances at the bartender, and now you’re both just waiting for an answer.

The guy pushes his blackout shades up his nose, and his skin is tan like he really did just come here from the beach. “Somethin’ like a blue lagoon, sweetheart. Blended,” he says, and you realize he’s most definitely too old to be a college student.

“Oh god,” you say, “is it gonna give me a brain freeze.”

The bartender gives you a nod to humor you but mixes it up for you anyway, then slides the drink across to you. It's chilly in your hand but it’s a welcome feeling under the heat of the sun. 

“Hey!! You guys,” Mina approaches with Todo tugged along by the hand, and her hair and clothes are soaking wet. “Can you count which one of us can hold our breath underwater the longest?? Please??”

You see Gojo reach behind the bar counter for a chilled long neck beer that he cracks open with the edge of the counter. “Sure,” he says, “You’d probably win, though. Better lung capacity. Todo’s been vaping since he learned how to spell. So, for, like, three years now.”

You can tell Todo’s already had a few drinks with the way he saunters over to Gojo, then slaps his back so harshly that it has him choking on the gulp of beer he just took.

“What the fuck–” Gojo sputters.

“Satoru here is going to be best man at our wedding someday, babe,” Todo slurs, “since he brought the two of us together.”

Gojo wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yes, all me,” he affirms and you roll your eyes, “I’m like that one angel with the love arrows. I forget the name.”

“Anteros,” you joke.

“Yes, that.”

“N-No–...cupid. It’s cupid.”

“Oh?” 

“My lady,” Todo slurs as he approaches Mina, “shall we go for another swim?”

You watch as Todo doesn’t even give her time to respond before he’s throwing her back into the pool, and you flinch as droplets of water from the splash threaten to graze you. You turn back to the bar counter and sip your drink through your straw, then look at Gojo who’s just staring at you.

“What?” you ask once you take your lips off the straw.

“Nothing. It looks like they’re having fun,” he says, peering off into the pool.

You glance over your shoulder at the water, “that’s true. I’m gonna be honest, it’s an odd match, but surprisingly it works. Like beauty and the beast.”

“What would we be?” he asks.

“Lady and the tramp.”

“Okay. I would find that insulting…….but I actually really like that movie so it’s fine.”

“Mm,” you smile at him mid sip, already halfway done with your drink with the prospect of brain freeze on the horizon. 

He’s grabbing your hand again, and you realize this entire afternoon might just be him taking you wherever he wants you while you essentially turn your brain off. But those eyes are on you again, peering ones that are intrigued by the way Gojo doesn’t seem to want to leave your side all day, like he’s usually everywhere else all at once, and was until you showed up, and now you’ve got all his attention and apparently that was some anomaly. 

People seem to want to say hi to him wherever he goes, or catch up with him about something or the other for conversations they’ve seemingly put pins in, you’ve noticed most guys that had no shame in eyeing you when you first walked in are now too scared to even look at you now that you’re in his presence, and perhaps the most jarring observation of yours is how many girls are just shamelessly and borderline seductively staring at him despite the fact that he’s in your presence.

He stops suddenly to turn around and face you, and you almost crash right into him.

“Wanna go inside?” he asks as he holds a hand above his eyes for shade, “the sun’s kinda harsh out here.”

“Oh no,” you comment sarcastically, eyes flicking up to the snapback he was wearing, “if only you had something on your head that could block the sun.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “if only.” And then he’s grabbing your hand again to lead you back to what you realize is the poolhouse. 

But then the two of you are stopped by a group of guys and girls, and suddenly, you realize that there are also a lot of eyes on you that are jealous. 

“Hey, do you guys wanna join us? We’re about to play power hour by the pool,” one of the guys says, gaze on Gojo before it drifts slowly to you in inclusion. 

There’s a girl standing next to him with her eyes flitting back and forth between you and Gojo before she gives you one look down your form, and then glances off towards the pool with disinterest. You blink at her, not proud of the assumptive what’s her problem? thought that flashes through your head but, seriously, what’s her fucking problem?

She’s twirling her hair and blinking up at Gojo before he finally responds to his frat brother with— “Oh, uh, nah. We’re good.” Like he wouldn’t trade two minutes alone with you on a couch tucked away inside the pool house with minimal decency for any amount of winning-at-public-drinking-game glory.

And that’s exactly where he leads you. A couch, tucked away inside the pool house, with minimal decency. He sets his bottle of beer down on the small table by the arm rest before he slumps down onto the couch, sunk in with hardly any give to the cushions, and he’s manspread to the moon as per usual as he pulls you to him with his hand holding your fingers until you’re standing in between his legs. Your knees bend to press into the sofa, and he lifts your hand into the air, holding it curled like you’re a lady in the mid eighteenth century and he’s about to kiss the back of your hand, except he’s just holding it that way to guide you into your seat. A more suitable action, at least. Modern and sleazy.

Your right knee is first to press into the cushion next to his thigh, and then your left knee follows until you’re hovered above him in a straddle. Then he settles you into the warmth of his lap with an urging hand on the small of your back, and you’re akin to the way he slides you up to above his groin once you’re sat. 

“You don’t want to get in the water?” he asks as his hand finds the bare skin of your thigh to caress while the other still lingers low on your back.

You can’t help but smooth your hands down his chest, and you swear he looks like he’s been made light headed by the action. “No. I didn’t know there was a pool here. Didn’t dress for the occasion.”

His eyes flick down to watch his own hand slide up your thigh until the fabric of your dress falls over his knuckles. You look down too, and maybe you’re vain for it but you’re a little obsessed with the way you look sitting in his lap. 

He seems to share the sentiment, considering he’s still hooked on the sight when he speaks. “The occasion of getting wet?”

“Mhm.”

Now he looks at you. “Weeeell sometimes you’ve gotta get a little wet to have a good time.”

“What are you getting at?” You place your hands on top of his shoulders and feel the rise of the blades when he shrugs. 

“Just some philosophy for ya. General wisdom. Tenets of life.”

“Ooo, big words there, did you learn them yesterday?”

“Don’t be sassy with me. It’ll get you into trouble.”

He brings his bottle of beer to his lips, loosely held in his hand with his head facing off to the side slightly so he can still maintain eye contact with you as he tips it back. Your eyes are immediately on his lips and fixated on the way his jaw is slack almost lazily, barely enough to let the amber liquid enter his mouth. 

His brow raises at how attentive you are to the sight, and he tips the bottle your way with a want some? look on his face, and in the beat too long that you take to answer, he’s already settled the cold glass rim on your bottom lip, a drop of bitter coating your tongue. Your chin tips up in silent permission for him to give you a decent swig of it, and the eye contact you give him as you take it is something sultry that makes him swallow hard, which you witness in the roll of the muscles of his neck. A droplet makes its way down your chin, and his thumb swipes it off for you, then he presses his thumb to your lips for you to lick.

Listen, he’s hot enough when you’re sober, but with drink in your veins, you’re worried you might fuck him hard enough not even your birth control could save you from what you’d coax from him. Alcohol is a hell of a drug, but so is his undivided attention.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask with a tremble in your voice when you feel his hands slide to hold your hips and his eyes look cloudy with something you can’t discern. 

“You. I’m thinking about you. Duh.”

“But what about me?” 

“Whatever the song just said.”

“I don’t even know this song.”

“You’d be a pretty bad stripper, then.”

Your skin feels seared inside out from how his eyes seem to undress you, and it doesn’t help that he’s way too hot blooded underneath you, running warm against your body’s attempts to keep its cool.

He slides you back a little, to where you’re not sitting right over his crotch anymore. 

You hold a tiny twist of your hair between your forefinger and your thumb to distract from his intense eye contact, in favor of inspecting for split ends. “Can I ask you something?” you say.

“Anything.”

“What was the bet?”

“Huh?” 

Your eyes flicker to his briefly, just for the duration that you speak. “You mentioned that the reason you messaged me those couple of months ago,” you start, “was because you lost some bet with Todo, and you had to help him get with Mina after that. What was the bet?”

“Just some stupid fantasy football thing,” he says. You tilt your head at him and briefly consider feigning interest in fantasy football, but you’re not that down bad. “I’m really glad though,” he continues, “since I got to meet you because of it.” Then he’s drinking from the bottle again. This time, you grab it from him once he’s done to consume some for yourself.

“What did you think of me when you first saw me?” you ask, the questions like an impulse you can’t control, and you swipe a drop of beer from your chin with the back of your hand.

He takes the bottle from your hand once you’re done swapping spit on it then sets it down on the table again, and there’s a moment of surprise on his face when he registers it’s a lot lighter than when you took it from him. And then his thumbs are back to rubbing those dizzying circles on your hips through the taut fabric of your dress, touch grazing up the curve of your waist when he feels like it. “Cute,” he says, first and foremost, “sorta wide-eyed and a little lost. Not the type to put casual sex on the table in the way that I thought you would.” 

“That’s a little insulting.”

His brow furrows for a moment before he sighs. “Your head’s a very pretty yet very strange thing.”

“Do I not seem promiscuous?” you ask, not even sure why you’re offended by it, “I can be–” you catch the slurring of your words, “I can be chill, and the type to have casual sex. No strings attached girl. I could be that if I wanted to.” 

“Maybe,” he says, a slight tilt to his head as he looks at you with something you’d describe as adoration, “but not for me.” And then suddenly his features turn sharp again. “Oh, and not for any other guy, either.”

You roll your eyes at his latter statement and ignore it. “But wasn’t that what you wanted from the beginning,” you say with a hic and a finger lightly grazing down his chest which he tucks his chin to watch, and you clarify when you realize you’ve lost him, “Casual.”

He senses you’re playing a game now, of cat and mouse, or just-tell-me-what-I-wanna-hear-already.

“At the beginning, sure. But not so much anymore.” And he ends it there.

You raise an eyebrow. 

He sighs. “I need you to know that I’m not great with words.”

“Neither am I,” you say, just to feel similar to him somehow.

“I disagree,” he states, like he sees right through it, and he leans away from you to lay back, hands leaving your hips to set his elbows up on the couch, open for proper conversation all of a sudden. “You’re good with words.”

You pinch the fabric of his shirt in a fidget, and raise an eyebrow at him in question.

“I don’t know,” he tries to elaborate, “you just know what you want and you ask for it. I don’t always know what I want from people, so I hardly ask for much.”

You release your grip of his shirt. He sulks about it. “I can recall you asking me to call you daddy once. Weirdo.”

“Wow. I open up to you and then you kink shame me.”

You giggle a little, because he’s funny sometimes, and he’s showing you his appreciation for the sound of your laughter in the air by giving you a playful pinch to the plush of your thigh. 

“Sorry,” you drawl, “it was on my mind. Because of–” you point to the ceiling, “because of what the song just said.”

He laughs. “You’re not into it though? The– uh, you know what I mean.” Evading the word like he’s preserving propriety for now.

“I don’t hate it for other people…not really trying to yuck anyone’s yum here, but my, um, my real dad’s not around anymore so it’s just a little,” you pause, feeling awkward, “weird for me I think.”

“Oh,” his brow furrows, like he’s glad he preserved that propriety from earlier, “my bad. If it’s any consolation, I was half joking.”

“Half is good enough for me,” you tell him, in a voice a little higher pitched than your usual, and you hold his face still by the jaw before leaning forward on foreign instinct to kiss him but you stop yourself right before you do. Eyes on your lips now, he leans forward to seal what you teased but you’re only stopping him as well by the heel of your hand pressed to his sternum.

He remains close though, gaze still fixated on the light tuck of your bottom lip under your front teeth, and when his eyes flicker up to yours again, they’re wild and dark.

“I like this weird thing we’re doing,” he exhales, sorta husky, “where you won’t let me kiss you. It’s hot.”

“Ok,” you say, with a small shrug as you push him away until he’s leaned all the way back onto the couch again, “I’ll keep it up forever then.”

He can’t help the groan that leaves him as he tips his head back in agony. “I’d die. I’d literally fucking die.”

You roll your eyes at the drama. “Isn’t this nice though? No kissing means more talking.”

“Yes, because talking is exactly what I wanna be doing with you while you’re sitting in my lap.”

Your shoulders drop in a bit of a sulk, and his eyes soften at the sight.

“I do,” he starts as he leans forward before pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth, dangerously close to breaking rules, but he needed to kiss your pout away somehow, “really love talking to you, though.”

You can’t think of anything clever to retort with, so you wear your heart on your sleeve. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m pretty sure I could recite everything you’ve ever said to me off the top of my head, and that’s given the fact I’ve got the memory of a goldfish on any good day, so,” he says as he tucks strands of your hair behind your ear. It’s a messy tuck, one you have to fix yourself anyway, and when your fingers brush against his from the redundant movement, he holds your hand, “but yeah, sure, I’m just saying it.”

He pulls your hand from where it’s near your ear, and interlocks his fingers with yours in that intimate way that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s the texture of his callouses against the back of your hand, rough on his fingertips yet soothing over your skin, and it reminds you of when he held your hand in that hotel room. From the look in his eyes, you can tell he’s thinking of it too.

The memory is intense, and it has you shifting your weight a little in his lap, until you accidentally rub your panties right over his crotch and a soft gasp leaves your lips when you realize that he’s hard underneath you. 

The motion gets a groan out of him as he tilts his head back and his hands grip tight on your hips to keep you there.

“Hey. No. I didn’t mean to do that. Don’t get aroused,” you squeak out. The ribbed expanse of his neck as he’s leaned back makes you want to kiss him at the taut skin, right near the vein that’s tense down from behind his ear to his collarbone.

He tips his head back down to level his gaze with yours. “It’s way too late for that.”

You struggle a little against his grip, and the sensation of his erection held snug against your clothed heat sends a pleasureful ache to your lower tummy. “Y-You’re just gonna suffer, then.”

“Yes. Which is a pattern with you. But I kinda like it.”

“Mm. Your head’s a very strange thing.”

“My head? Baby, my head hasn’t done any of the thinking since I saw you in this dress.”

You feel like you’re on fire. “You’re such a whore today.”

“Can’t a dude just chill on a couch with the girl he likes. Jesus.”

You know he's said it already, so it's no secret, but him calling you the girl he likes makes your head spin hazy in a way you wish it wouldn't. Because half of your heart is telling you it's the bare minimum you'd want, while the other half is telling you it's all you'll ever need to hear from him for the rest of your life. 

He’s bouncing one of his legs up and down in relief of some of the self restraint he’s exercising right now, and it’s making you sway a little in his lap while he admires you.

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs with a shake of his head, like it’s torture for him in the best way possible, and then his nose nuzzles under your jaw, right where you sprayed your perfume. You shiver when he presses a kiss there. “Pretty girl.” 

You lightly push his shoulder with the heel of your palm so that he pulls away to look at you, and a few shy flutters of your eyes tell him people might see us, to which his eyes say don’t care as he tilts his hips up towards yours. 

Most guys would match the tempo of the music with a slow grind like this, but of course he makes his own. One he settles you into with guiding hands on your hips, the way he wants it. One that makes your hand shoot out to grip his shoulder for purchase when your hips start to move on their own from the feeling of him hard and hot and excited underneath you, until he's got you unsure of whose idea this was in the first place. 

“Fuck,” he exhales with a slack jaw, all air and no tone, when you rock your hips forward and he leans back on the couch as he starts to grind up against you as well, firm and flush, and you’re satisfied by the loss of his composure. 

You’re sure you’re nothing but sopping, unadulterated wet between your legs, and if the fabric over his crotch was any shade of black lighter, he’d be able to see the mess you’re making on him. It’s a shame. Or maybe you’re glad he’s unaware. Unless—

“I can feel how wet you are,” he tells you, sounding like he’s out of breath from the sensation alone as his finger hooks the hem of your dress up just enough to eye the sight of where you’re sat on him, “if you’re gonna play hard to get, you’ve gotta learn to control your arousal a bit better than this.”

“Oh,” you squeak out, his words having the opposite effect, and you squirm when you say, “y–...you’re one to talk.”

“I’m not trying to hide how much I want you right now,” he says, and he proves it by holding your clothed arousal flush against his heavy erection to where you can feel it twitch with need underneath layers of impossibly taut fabric, and he caves into a harsh jut of his hips upwards, bumping against your clit and when you gasp then lean into his chest with your chin tipping up to the ceiling, he kisses your neck where your hair is stuck to the sweat at your nape. 

It's true, if actions could speak, his say I wanna fuck you senseless right now. And the way you can practically feel his cock ache as he’s rolling his hips up into you tells you he's about two seconds of resolve away from fucking you senseless right now. But he also knows that it's a game, and for a moment you forgot how good he is at winning those things.

You halt movement for a second, and his fingers press into the plush of your ass to get you to keep going with it, but you don’t. “What are we doing. Dry humping on a couch like we're high schoolers.”

He makes a point to teasingly poke you under your ribcage, and you flinch then swat his hand away. "Just seeing how far you'll let me take you without letting me kiss you."

"What if all the way?"

"All the way without getting to kiss you? I couldn't even imagine that." He pauses in thought. "No, wait, yes I can." He pauses in thought again. "Holy fuck, can we?"

"Do yourself a favor and stop thinking."

He purses his lips in a pout, his leg that’s been bouncing up and down picking up in vigor, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s genuinely starting to lose his sanity, or if it’s because he wants to see your tits jiggle with the motion, but maybe the latter since he dips his head down to kiss right above the neckline of your dress, where the softness of your breast starts. It’s a light kiss, more of a brush of his lips, and he breathes in the scent of your skin like it’s a drug. “How do you always smell so nice?” he mumbles against you, “drives me insane.”

His palm smooths up the side of your waist before he tucks his thumb under your breast while his other fingers wrap your ribcage, and his teeth catch the lace of your dress to tug down, revealing more of your soft sweat slicked skin and his gaze flicks up to meet yours in teasing eye contact.

God, just one touch between your thighs would reveal how flush your panties are stuck to your pussy by the embarrassing amount of arousal, entirely disproportionate to the minimal amount of obscenity it took from him to get you there. And the lewd sight of him tugging at the neckline of your dress with his canines makes you wonder if his teeth would be enough to peel the soaked and skin-flush cloth of your panties off of you, or if his hands would have to get involved. 

Like he reads your mind, his other hand comes between your thighs and he brushes two of his fingers over your clothed clit, light pressure placed like he’s just playing with you, yet it’s somehow enough to where your hand shoots out to grab his forearm with nails digging into his skin.

His teeth release the lace of your neckline when you writhe in his hold and he moves his lips to your ear. “Too much?” he murmurs.

“Mm,” you hum, hard to think when he’s drawing circles over you now and you can feel the wetness dripping out of you. His middle finger slides to the place where it soaks your panties, prodding slightly, the only thing keeping him from fingering you right now being the flimsy cotton fabric.

There’s a brief silence around you as music abruptly stops, lasting for maybe three seconds before it resumes, like someone was fumbling to change the song out in the courtyard, and it’s barely sobering enough for you to remember that the two of you are still in potential eyesights of other people and your cheeks flush as you pull his hand out from between your thighs. 

"Are—” you gasp a little, “are you excited for tomorrow?" you ask in an aim to distract as you guide his hand back to your waist.

"Huh?" he huffs, tearing his eyes away from your cleavage to look at your face, his features twisting into confusion and some sort of frustration too. Sexual, most likely. His leg is bouncing again.

You blink at him, alcohol from earlier starting to get to your head. "The big game tomorrow?"

"Oh, yeah, very," he mindlessly kisses your cheek, "excited."

"You know," you start, arms sliding past his shoulders and loosely locking behind his neck so you can lean off to the side in a dizziness that he keeps you from falling from by both hands holding onto your waist, “I used to–" you can't even finish your sentence without preemptively giggling because you can already imagine how he'll react, "I used to play soccer when I was younger. When I was a young one. In my youth.”

He scoffs in disbelief, and he’s poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek with some boyish interest in his eyes and you can tell he thinks you’re just fucking with him. “Yeaahhh right.”

You, and the alcohol, tell him, “No really, I did!!”

You think you’ve lost balance when you fall more to the side than you intended, but then you realize he’s just shifting you to lay on your back and now he’s hovering over you on the couch. His toned arms frame the sight you’re looking up at as you blink slowly to admire his face, and then your wrists that are still crossed behind his neck are tugging down because you need him a little closer. 

He comes down onto one elbow, sunk into the cushion for leverage, and his other forearm slides under your waist. The fabric of your dress has fallen to your hips to expose the skin of your thigh as you press it against the side of his hip.

“Alright. What position did you play then?”

Fuck. In fairness, you would’ve remembered all things better if the ethanol wasn’t metabolizing in your veins.

“I was,” you look past him to the ceiling briefly, “the…fielder.”

“The fielder?”

“Something like that.”

“Uh, like a midfielder?”

“No, no, not mid,” you pout with a shake of your head, “above average.” 

He snorts. “I don’t think you’ve played a single day in your life.”

“I did,” it comes off as a bit of a whine, because you’re frustrated he doesn’t believe you, “I remember once in a middle school match I was playing defense and this girl elbowed me in the boob and I called her a bitch and the referee told me I couldn’t play for the rest of the game. So I called him a bitch too.”

His grin is wide like he’s proud of you for it. “Atta girllll,” he drawls, a curl to his tongue to fight the slur of his own words, and he lifts your butt up with one cupped hand underneath it until your hips are pressed against his again, and you loosely wrap your legs around him, too enveloped with delirium to care about anything else anymore. He resists the urge of rutting his hips into yours for the better part of half a second. You stifle your moan with a purse of your lips.

“I’m. A little bit.” You say between a hiccup.

“A little bit what?”

“Little bit tipsy.”

“From what? The beer?”

Another hic. “I think so.”

“You’re so cute it’s honestly killing me.”

You bring your hands up to hold his face, one thumb caressing his cheek, and he lowers his head down to rest his forehead against yours, then you’re both looking into each other's eyes for what feels like forever. Your pinky can feel his pulse thrumming fast under his jaw, his eyes so soft and sweet and serene you didn’t even know it was possible for anyone to look at you with that much adoration. Like you’re the only thing that matters. 

Your head tilts up, a few flutters of your lashes as you lick your lips and succeed in drawing his gaze to them when he realizes you’re finally giving him the permission. You tuck your bottom lip under your front teeth, suddenly shy in anticipation, and his thumb pulls it out from under and presses into the softness of it, and both of your chests are rising in slow rhythm with one another when he finally dips his head down to–

“Yo! Satoru,” a loud voice calls out in interruption from the glass sliding doors of the pool house. You turn your head towards the source and feel Gojo’s hand possessively pull the fabric of your dress up your thigh to preserve your modesty. You see one of his frat brothers standing in the frame holding up a pair of metal tongs, clacking them in the air to get his attention. “It’s your turn to grill, man.”

You turn your head from his frat brother back to Gojo and watch as he blinks blankly off into the distance, the two of you clearly pulled out of the feverish trance you were just relishing in, and then you see Gojo wave a dismissive hand in the air as if to say yeah, yeah, okay, gimme a sec which is somehow convincing enough to get his frat brother to head back to the barbecue stand. 

Gojo snakes his arm around your waist and lifts you up with him, sitting and sinking back into the cushion of the couch and you wobble a little from the dizziness of suddenly being upright as he pulls you into his lap again. His eyes are darting across the features of your face while he has a small tug of a pout to his lips. 

“Okay. Well. It seems I have to feed the masses, so.”

“So?” you prod him to finish.

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Then go.”

“I will,” he says. 

You try your best to hide the sulk that weighs on your shoulders, because you don’t want him to go, and when you study his face, you notice his expression relaxes a little and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards slightly into some sort of smirk. Like he’s caught on that you’re still on the edge of what could’ve been a kiss, and he’s satisfied that you’re the one craving it now. 

You dislike the loss of power over him, and you roll your hips once over his crotch to find that he’s still hard underneath you and he sucks a harsh breath through his teeth before a low growl leaves his lips, and then he’s softly glaring at you. 

“Maybe meditate,” you say to him, “for the boner to go away.”

He snorts, and you blush when you realize it’s because you made it sound more like an infomercial rather than something sexy and minxy and alluring like you were going for, but he still kisses your cheek regardless before he slides you off of him. And you realize you almost like these chaste kisses more than anything else. “It’s fine,” he says, “like I said, I’ve gotten used to it with you.”

His words make you briefly wonder how many boners you’ve given him, and then you realize you’d really rather not know. Although it would probably be strangely endearing to know. But still. For some reason. You’d really rather not know. Or maybe you would?…Now you feel like you’re the one that needs to meditate. 

He gets up off the couch with an exhale of a grunt leaving him, the couch adjusting so harshly to his lack of body weight that the springs bounce you up and down once or twice from the motion, and you’re sitting on your heels from where you look up at him, seemingly still as a statue like you’re not going anywhere. 

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Come get some food, yeah?”

“Mhm. In a sec.”

He hesitates for a second like he wants to ask a question, or maybe multiple, but he just lightly shrugs, gaze lingering on you for a short second before he turns on his heel to head out of the pool house and out towards the barbecue station. The second he’s far away enough for you, you let out the almost crestfallen sigh you were holding in before plopping down onto your back onto the cushions.

And here you were, laying on a couch staring up at the pool house ceiling, occupying yourself with the study of a dusty cobweb across the wooden pillar high into the structure, so you don't have to think about the way you've been left high and dry. Why do people say high and dry? If anything, you’re high and soaked. Well, you suppose for men it’d be high and dry. But the phrase should be bisexual at the very least. Er– unisex? …gender inclusive?

You realize you’re still a little tipsy. 

Gojo's words from earlier linger, "Weeeell sometimes you’ve gotta get a little wet to have a good time." Okay, well, you would’ve chosen pool wet instead of left-here-an-aroused-mess wet if you had any clue what your options were beforehand. 

Your head lifts up off the cushions until you're seated straight, tilting your head side to side as you peer off into the courtyard, still a little dizzy from the buzz, and you grab Gojo's now flat abandoned beer to finish the rest of it off in one fell swoop before you stand up and head towards the courtyard.

You stop in the broad door frame of sliding glass doors of the pool house, arms crossing as you take in the sight of people all around you. Holding their breath underwater, sprawled on lawn chairs while eating hot dogs, oaky smoke slightly fogging and burning the clarity of your vision as your eyes settle over at the barbeque station. Plastic tablecloths cling to white fold-out tables with custom print for SAE and UTOKYO's D1 SOCCER publicity arranged in amateur graphic design fashion, and you see Gojo standing at the grill flipping the meat he was making work to cook. There's a line developing, and you realize it's lunch time. Hide's taking special orders at the line, chatting up some girls who you're pretty sure you've seen in sorority Instagram pages, and you watch as Hide throws a pointing thumb behind him towards Gojo, and then a trio of those girls split from the line to make their way over to him at the grill.

You squint your eyes to focus your vision, and you realize one of the girls is the one from earlier that was looking you up and down and sideways before batting her eyelashes at Gojo when you were standing right next to him.

The trio exchange a brief word to one another before that girl taps on Gojo's shoulder. Whatever conversation he was having with one of his frat brothers is interrupted when he turns to look at her. You see that signature clueless "huh?" look on his face, and she's pointing at the grill. Oh, special instructions, you can practically hear the thought that flashes through his head, but you feel uneasy. When there's music this loud, and you want a guy to lean in closer to you, then you talk real quiet, right? It’s a trick as old as time. And that's exactly what happens in front of you, when he leans down because he can't hear her purposefully hushed words, and then the girl wastes no time in wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down towards her and—

Your heart drops to the ground at the same time your mouth falls open when you see her kiss him, glossy lips sickeningly sweetly pressed against his mouth, and the pure hurt that spreads through you is fully sobering to say the least.

Shock is the only expression you can see on his face from here, and he's quick to pull away, but god, it was still tough as hell to witness. His lips read "what the fuck?" as he confronts the action, before his gaze immediately darts towards the poolhouse and he makes eye contact with you, panicked worry written all over his face, and you roll your eyes before storming off across the courtyard towards the main house. There are eyes on you paired with hushed whispers of gossip but you just can’t bring yourself to care with the way your stomach feels like it’s been flipped upside down like you’re about to straight up puke right now, and you barely register bumping your shoulder into Geto and Nanami before they call out your name behind you with a few words of concern, and then you hear Gojo’s voice calling out to you too, but you continue to hurriedly push on until you disappear into the main house, around the corner, down a slim hallway, and barely make it into a tiny little walk-in coat closet when you feel a warm hand wrap around your wrist. 

"Hey– y/n, wait—" you hear Gojo desperately stutter behind you, stopping you. You turn on your heel to face him, and you see he’s breathing heavy, brows tightly furrowed, mouth slightly open from the way he was raggedly exhaling in the clear sheer panic rushing through his veins only proven by the guilty look on his face, but there's only the image of another girl's lips on his still present in your memory. It's not the first time you've seen him kiss someone else, but after all this time and everything that’s happened since then, this felt so much worse. If there was one thing about jealousy, it's that it’s enough to make all feelings you have for someone surface in a way that's so overbearingly powerful, so insanely potent and borderline physically debilitating that it makes you feel sick to the stomach, and that's why there's a prick of tears in your eyes when you make eye contact with him. It's a primal, possessive thing ringing in your head when you look at him that just screams mine, mine, mine, mine, mine. You can be pissed off all you want later, but right now you need to get the sensation of another woman’s lips off of him.

Your fists ball the fabric of his shirt, and you pull him to you so hard the momentum has your back slamming into the surface behind you and you kiss him, hard, it's messy, honestly you could've chipped a tooth if he hadn’t braced his hands on the wall behind you before his lips crash onto yours, and his surprise only lasts a hesitant second before he's hungrily kissing you back.

There's just the sound of the two of you exhaling together in feverish unison with the kiss as his hands are quick to cup under your ass and he lifts you up, pressing your clothed heat flush to the front of his groin as his hips pin yours to the wall. Your arms wrap around his neck, skin tickled by the short hair at his undercut, and the moan that escapes you when you wrap your legs around him and feel his bulge pressed against the thin cotton of your panties is muffled by him in harmony with his groan, pure expressions of all the pent-up arousal felt in the way he kisses you like he’s worried it’s the last chance he’ll ever get. 

His teeth nip at your bottom lip, and you gasp before he deepens the kiss, but the prickle of tears in the corners of your eyes when you shut them tight makes you pull away from the kiss completely.

You’re both panting heavily, looking at each other in close proximity under the dark lighting of the closet. You wrap your arms around his neck a little tighter, and you’re not sure if you want his lips on you again or if you don’t want to see him for an entire week. His eyes are dark, low, and set on your lips, which you’re sure are puffed and glossy and look like nothing but pure sex to him right now, and he leans in to kiss you again but you turn your face away from him at the last second and his lips make contact with your cheek instead. He’s confused for a moment, kiss limp as he looks at the side of your face in his periphery before pulling away slightly, and the second kiss he places on your cheek is softer, intentional, an apology, a sorry, a guilt-ridden affection like he knows you’re hurt and it’s killing him. You feel the plush of your cheek squish up to your cheekbone from the gesture, and the feeling has you blinking away tears for some reason. 

“Let-...” you say, catching your breath and tucking your chin under when his lips graze your temple, then your hand pushes him away weakly by his shoulder. “Satoru, let me down.”

An expression of hurt flashes across his face before his palms hesitantly slide down the underside of your thighs until you’re gently eased back onto your feet and you tuck your disheveled hair behind your ears, to gain poise, before you blink a few times then look up at him with so much uncertainty. 

“I don’t know–” he starts, already sounding flustered with panic, “what the fuck happened back there, I don’t even know who that was. I wasn’t trying to– I didn’t– it wasn’t— “

You could finish his sentences for him in your head, but you just watch him trip over his own words. You suppose the fact he was so desperate to vindicate himself to you right now was the only thing keeping you sane from the realization of a truth you’ve been evading this whole time, which was that if you were to date Gojo, you’d constantly be competing for the right to be by his side. Luckily enough, the two of you were graduating soon from all the fraternity & sorority space, but even then, you realize that no matter where he goes, he will always have pretty women that look at him, and want him, and want to be with him, without any regard for anything besides the pure desire to have him, whether he’s taken or not. He’s going to be a pro soccer player someday, with millions of fans, and although he’s never done anything to make you doubt he’d be loyal to you, there’s just no way you could escape the sinking feeling in your chest that tells you you’ll never be the best thing. There will always be a better best thing, and you’ll only have his attention for so long before he finds it. 

“I’m,” you choke out, feeling rawness in your throat that makes it difficult to speak, “I’m not feeling well, I’m just gonna go—”

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to him, harsh, your head thwacking against his chest as he wraps his arms around you and you can physically feel your heart ache at the familiarity of his scent surrounding you. 

“I’m sorry. I…I won’t let that happen again. I’ll never talk to another girl ever again. I won’t look at another girl again. Hell, I won’t even exist around other girls ever again, uh, I’ll wear an invisible cloak, a hazmat suit, change my identity, move to a different country, in fact, I don’t even know what other girls are, no clue, seriously. I just—fuck, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say right now, I’m just— I’m just so sorry.”

You purse your lips together, unsure of how you went from being on the verge of tears two seconds ago to trying to stifle laughter from how stupid he sounds, but you wrap your arms around his waist as he continues to spew utter nonsense as he commits to an almost maniacal and impossible level of fidelity to you. Here he was, manwhore of the school, tripping over his words to confess undying loyalty to you like you’re domesticating some wild beast no one’s ever dreamed of conquering from natural habitat. 

“I just want—” you hear him rambling, the rumbling of his words felt on your cheek as you press it against his chest. He wraps his arms around you tighter, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. “I just want you.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest, and you feel a single tear drip from your eyelashes and soak through the cotton of his shirt, tiny enough to where he doesn’t notice, and you shove your face further into his chest so it stays that way. You wonder if one day you’ll be able to truly believe his words. And you curse yourself for not being brave enough to. 

You two stand in an embrace for a solid ten seconds before the knot in your throat is loose enough to speak. 

“It’s not your fault,” you muffle into his chest, “she kissed you out of nowhere. The bitch.”

You feel him stiffen a little in surprise over your profanity. “Damn. Didn’t believe you when you said you called that girl who elbowed you in the boob at a soccer game a bitch when you were younger, but I kinda believe you now.”

“It’s my favorite cuss word.”

“I can see that. You’re free to call me a bitch any time, by the way.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re stupid.”

He tucks your head under his chin in a nuzzle, and you count every beat of his heart. “Are you mad at me?”

You give serious thought to his question. “Mm. No. I’m mad at the girl who kissed you.”

When he only hums above you, you pull your head away and look up at him.

“Seriously. It’s not right. And you’re allowed to be angry about it too,” you say.

He raises an eyebrow at you and tilts his head.

“She’s a random person who kissed you out of nowhere, like you’re just some piece of meat to toy with. It’s wrong. You’re a human being, not an object to lust over.”

His eyes widen slightly, and your heart sinks a little when you see he’s confused and trying to genuinely process your words, like it’s something no one’s ever told him before. Like it’s happened in the past too, and he was never taught to believe that it was wrong, just because he’s attractive and popular, like that somehow meant he’s just supposed to take all the glory with no complaint or preservation of his own person. 

You shift on your feet a little, releasing your hold of him and he releases his embrace of you as well, and from the way he’s darting his eyes across your face and the wall behind you and occasionally towards the ceiling, like you’ve just put some epiphany in his head that’s being processed in the brain behind his rapid blinking, you realize he probably needs a second to process what you’ve just said. You move past him but not without a comforting squeeze of his bicep in the process. There's a sound that leaves his throat, something undecipherable, like he was just filling the air with some response that’s now lost, but for the most part he just watches you leave with those same wide eyes.

You get back out into the courtyard, a slow exhale leaving you as you brace yourself for the eyes of all the onlookers, and though most of them are just curious over the girl that Gojo Satoru just chased after in front of all his frat bros and harem of sorority girls, you can’t help but feel like some of them are judging and hateful and jealous too. But anger beats out all of your emotions of worry or embarrassment, and when you see the girl that kissed him still lingering over at the barbecue station, glaring daggers at you, you match it with a glare of your own. 

You walk up to her, and you see she expects you to say something, like she’s prepared for a cat fight as if it’s all she’s ever known, but instead you just calmly look over her towards the barbecue station, push past her with a harsh bump of your shoulder against hers, knocking her off balance as she gasps offendedly at your choice to ignore her, but that’s exactly what burns people like her the most. The feeling of realizing their fuckassery is insignificant and boring and not even worth the energy of reprimanding. 

One of the frat bros at the grill cautiously hands you a plate of ribs.

“Um. You didn’t use condoms to serve these, right?” you ask as you take it from him.

“N-No,” he stutters, “…why? I-Is that a request?”

“No, no, no. You’re good.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 11]

a/n. hiiiii thank u sm for tuning into another chapter of Edging With Plot!! 🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼😍😍😍 (haha just kidding. sorta) hope you enjoyed readinggg n apologies for the wait for this chapter. honestly writing the little scene on the poolhouse couch was a lot of fun tbh i got such young puppy love vibes while writing their dialogue pls guys i think they’re fallng in loooovvee :(( sobs. lil kickoff couple sorry if the chapter ends kinda abruptly haha i am sooooo unbelievably jaded rn after four weeks of traveling i couldn’t think of any other way to end it since the last part was the only scene i had left to write lol. on that note, i will be a little mia next couple days as we’re doing the long haul stretch drive home and i’ll be driving for most of it so :’’) i won’t be able to respond to replies or asks for this chapter right away like i usually am able to but i can’t wait to interact w you all once i’m back home very soon <3 so much love from me as always!! hope you’re all taking care and having a nice summer. remember to stay hydrated :) - ellie 💕

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[taglist is closed]

[bambiesfics]

𝗘𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗦𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗚𝗳 — Ellie x Bimbo!r

𝜗𝜚 Author’s notes ✦ Butch/femme dynamics, Ellie has a panic attack, this references joel’s death, anxiety, bile, nausea, and hyper sexual themes, Ellie’s butch, wears a packer/strap. Refers to it as cock, dick etc Reader’s a bimbo and genuinely stupid. Ellie gets really scared.

𝜗𝜚 Ellie Williams ✦ I listened to Vietnam - Crystal Castles it’s tempo mirrors Ellie’s panicked anxiety. I’ve linked to a few seconds before the beat drops, on YouTube for accessibility. Listen with earphones so the music fucks your ears.

𝜗𝜚 If you find yourself uncomfortable with the themes in this fic, maybe try educating yourself on Butch sexuality. Read this to get a sense of Ellie’s headspace.

kisses u. ⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡.

Ellie fisted the joystick into neutral and killed the engine. She cracked all 5 knuckles before reaching over to release your seatbelt. The belts cold buckle sprang across your breasts and over your shoulder, turning your nipples visibly hard and full in their wake. Ellie fought off the urge to glance down; to drink them in. She was semi-successful at managing away her inner teenage boy every time it chose to rear its ugly hungry head at inopportune moments.

  “So…” she started, her hand massaging the inner dough of your thighs, warmed by the hug of your crossed legs. “We just gettin’ your little sparkly earrings? Or are you gonna get distracted and spend more money than I make in a single paycheck?” 

  You ran your palms up the sleeves of Ellie’s brown military jacket. Fascinated by the texture of the rough fabric everytime one of its crinkles caught against your acrylic nails. You couldn’t fathom how Ellie walked around in clothes so rough and distressed, all of your outfits were soft cotton or silky satin. And here Ellie wore a deconstructed uniform jacket like it was meant for her body. You blinked away your distracted thoughts, and leaned into nose at her neck. Pressing nose and lips to the source of the most comforting scent in the world to you. Allspice, cigarette smoke, and 2-in-1 body wash. There was still a faint trace of her cologne, you wish she wore it, the traces of it made you go brainless for your butch.

  “Earrings only.” Your sweet voice was muffled against her neck. She reached her other hand up to cup the back of your neck. The cold metal of her rings kissed your skin, but you leaned into it.   

 “I’ll wait for you right here, peach.” 

“Okay.” You nodded obediently. 

“Don’t spend too long in there, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded once again. 

“If anyone stares at you too long or makes you feel weird for being girly, call me and I’ll meet you wherever. Especially those judgemental ass grandmas.”

You looked up at her, her hair was in her eyes, casting a shadow that turned her gaze into a deep hunter green. 

You leaned in slowly and kissed her lips. Ellie attempted to chase the kiss, until you slid your hand between the valley of her breasts and urged her to stay. Behave baby boy. 

  Ellie’s right eyebrow quirked up in response, impressed that you kept her in check. That you knew her so well that you could tell exactly where that kiss could’ve led to if you didn’t tell her to slow down. 

“Be right back here in an hour.” Ellie was relishing in how your thumb rubbed across her chest. Your hand rested on her chest like you were her little damsel in distress, looking to her to save you. You made her feel like Clark Kent, and it made her want to puff her chest out. 

  “Hour-and-a-half, I wanna get ice cream.” You prattled.

  “An hour.”

  “Ellieeee” You whined. 

  “If you’re not back here by 2:30 pm, I’m stomping into Icing myself, throwing you over my shoulder and marching right back out.” 

  “Please as if you could hoist me up over your shoulder.” You leaned over to fish Ellie’s wallet from her back pocket. 

  Ellie side-eyed you intensely as she tracked the movement. She enclsaped your wrist in an iron grip once your acrylics brushed the back pocket of her jeans. Her thumb pressed down. You couldn’t move.

“You didn’t seem confused about my strength when I lifted you into that full nelson and pounded you in front of the mirror.” She dropped her blue steel face and started grinning like a fox. “Uhnnuhuh Ellie, m’gonna squirt. I’m gonna squirt on you daddy.” She mocked in a high-pitched overly feminine voice. She drew her eyebrows together to school up the appearance of someone deliriously aroused. One that mimicked your cock-drunk face all those days ago.  

  Ellie dropped the comedic expression for a moment, in favor of replacing it with the one she sported to intimidate customers who started testing her boundaries or her patience. The one that said ‘respect me.’  

“Fuck you, asshole. I’m made of steel.” She spat.

  You leaned up, and just planted a glossy kiss on her cheek. She blushed until she was cherry tomato red. She always blushed harder when you were affectionate to her, in the middle of her egotistical masculine delusions. Like a mom kissing her son's cheek, after he called himself Spider-Man. 

Ellie would tease you for hours. But remind her again you were her adorable little girlfriend who she worshiped, then she’d be back to acting right again. Ready to hump the air just to get a whiff of your hair. Sweet and pliable. Ellie crossed her fingers subtly and hoped you got specks of glitter gloss on her cheek from that kiss. She wore your kisses like merchandise. Those and the smell of your pussy on her mouth and fingers. Some days, the smell was just smeared all over her face. 

  You blinked at her, slow and pouty in the way that got her real happy and pleased. “Now that you’re done poking and teasing me, can I go inside to get my sparkly earrings?” 

Ellie slid her wallet into your palm, her lips parted at the way your acrylics snatched it. The way they sunk into the soft leather. Mmmm.

  “An hour.” 

You climbed out of her beat up hatchback. The metal groaned as you slammed the door shut. “See you Els, if I get in trouble or get lost I’ll call you okay? I charged my phone this time. Bye-bye.”  You sing-songed just before walking away, out of the parking lot and towards the entrance of the mall.

  You were the utter definition of hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go. Ellie drank in the very very obvious little characters of your ass. The jiggly flesh, dimpled skin, and the way they smacked each other with each step. The type of visual someone could only see if the person walking in front of them was naked. Which you practically were considering how your pink cotton leggings looked painted on. The silhouette was way too intimate with how well it showed the character of your ass. She could’ve forced you to change, but you two had such a good morning today. 

Ellie didn’t want to—no—she hated picking fights with you. Ellie being mad at you? That was just another Tuesday. She had temperament issues, trauma, death of a loved one blah blah blah. But you being mad at Ellie? She’d kill herself. She shuddered in the car at the thought of it, and swallowed her jealousy. Everyone sees your little dimpled ass? Fine. She’s the only person that’s seen it twerking for her during backshots. And anyway, you’d get jealous if she wore gray sweatpants to work, so she kinda understood the sentiment. Especially because she packed everywhere, and the bulge was glaring. 

  Ellie wrapped her knuckles on the steering wheel. Trying to distract herself from the slow and lonely weight of the parking lot. Joy Division’s “disorder” played in her head. She considered pulling out a Marlboro to smoke, but thought against it. She remembered how you squealed whenever she kissed you with cigarette breath, telling her how it made your kisses taste so bitter. 

Truth be told, she was just as clingy with you, as you were to her. You just initiated it more often. When someone follows her around like a little puppy trying to catch up to its much larger owner all day, it’s hard not to notice their missing presence. 

  Ellie played with her rings as the mounting anxiety gnawed at her tummy. She turned her wrist over to check her watch. Ten. Only ten minutes had gone by? Fucking christ. 

She puffed out her cheeks. Yeah she was being ridiculous. Knowing you, you probably had only just arrived at the store, and that meant making a cute pikachu face at every new piece of merchandise they shipped into the shop floor that week. So it’d be a while before you were back. She could’ve gone in with you, but Ellie knew her presence there would’ve weirdly encouraged you to take a full day tour of the mall. She was your walking wallet apparently. But it’s worse when the wallet can actually give in.

  It was better this way, you kept her card in hand, but Ellie wasn’t physically there to actually convince of anything. So you couldn’t use it to buy anything more than earrings. Plus, she couldn’t stand another trip to Victoria’s Secret. As much as she loved the way you modeled a show for her whenever you tried stuff on, and as much as the jokes she cracked with the other boyfriends waiting for their girlfriends to be done made for good conversation, Victoria’s Secret just served to make her feel incredibly out of place. Mostly due to its overtly sexual displays of femininity. Something she still struggled to place how she felt about. All Ellie knew was that she didn’t want it.

Matter of fact she had repelled femininity so much, it even reflected in her dating preferences. You were by far the most feminine girl Ellie had ever dated. That was a considerably large shift from the tomboys she typically had crushes on in highschool.  

But she couldn’t help but be turned on by the way your acrylics stroked her bulge, by the way you blinked up at her with those dolly lashes like you needed her approval more than you needed oxygen, by the way she got both wet and enraged seeing men’s gazes linger on you as she walked behind you. Lingering in a way that they never did for any of her exes. It ignited a possessiveness in her she had convinced herself she didn’t have the ability to feel. Made her walk out the house with her shoulders drawn up to her ears, scowling. As if to say to all the men, ‘fuck off, get your own cocksleeve. This one’s claimed.’ 

  You were the cutest cocksleeve too. The human embodiment of a little bow for her dick. 

Just the thought prompted her to squeeze her bulge through her jeans, feeling phantom erections.

God it’d been how long now? Ellie checked her watch, reading the watch face to make sure she’d read that right. Twenty minutes? Only?

  Her palms started perspiring, and she started grinding her teeth. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. She’ll be back any minute. Be cool, you freak. 

Ellie reached to grab her phone, but the way the time flashed at the top bar of the screen made her stomach knot up anxiously. She chucked her phone into the passenger seat, and rolled down the window to get some fresh air. It felt beautiful for a moment, her rough short hair curling around the wind and blowing in her eyes. But then she felt like she couldn’t breathe again. Like her throat was squeezing in on itself. So Ellie unbuttoned the top button of her navy plaid button down. She yanked the collar away from her neck, and took deep breaths. Nice and deep slow breaths. The demonic little shadows and whispers of panic ebbed away, leaving only room for peace and the sunlight of the early afternoon. Ellie smiled, she’d be fine. 

She played with her rings, recounting all the places and dates she’d thrifted them from. Then she started fidgeting with them as her leg bounced in the car, working off some of that returning nervous energy. The little shadows were starting to creep back in her mind again. Ellie white-knuckled the steering wheel. “No, no, no please. Not now, please not now.” She sucked in a deep breath as unshed tears lined her waterline. She flipped her wrist watch face up quickly, you’d been gone for thirty-five minutes by this point. And Ellie felt her skin run cold. thirty-five minutes left twenty-five minutes. Twenty-five more minutes for the ebb and flow of panic to infect her brain and trigger her adrenaline response. Twenty-five more minutes of letting her own mind attack itself. Ellie couldn’t stomach the thought. She started gasping as she fidgeted to remove the car keys from the ignition. The dark whispering shadow only urged her to look at one thought in her mind: Alone. You’re alone again, Ellie. 

  She nearly keeled over from the sheer nausea that thought brought about. Ellie tripped out of her car, slammed the door and stumbled towards the mall as her heartbeat thundered louder than her thoughts. And her thoughts were very loud. Her face felt tight and itchy, as she ran. And due to the combination of wind and glossy eyes, her vision warped until it became disfigured. Which only set off to make her blood run icier. Like she was being deprived of all her necessary  senses as she yanked the mall door open and stumbled around trying to wade her way through until she got to the side where women’s jewelry and clothing was huddled. Her vision was disjointed, Ellie felt as if she was looking through a fish-eye lens. It caused bile to rise in her throat. Ellie was spiraling, she knew it. And if she didn’t find you—fuck where were you?—it was only going to get uglier for her. She despised being reduced to ugly. She hated herself when she was ugly. 

  Snot mixed in with tears as she scaled the walls of the mall trying to use the brightness of pink and white signs to guide her to the right store. You promised you’d go to icing, you promised you’d go to icing, you promised you’d go to icing. She hummed the mantra in corners of her brain.

She gurgled “better fucking be at Icing otherwise I’m gonna kill he—my heart christ—fuck fuck fuck baby please be at icing.” The palpitations rolled in, causing her heart to beat erratically. Two beats instead of one, a skipped beat, or an extra hard beat. Every bastardized combination instead of the reliable, glub-glub of a healthy heart. Ellie gripped her own shirt, and tried to feel any lingering warmth from your hand when you placed it there nearly an hour ago. Her breaths were coming out ragged, and she was still blind with a disjointed vision no matter how much she rubbed her jacket across her eyes to soak up tears. Ellie stumbled until she saw a store with the familiar lettering, and she yanked and tugged at her shirt to ground herself as she made her way to the checkout lane. “Hi.” Her voice came out so small and strained. She hated herself for it. 

  “Have you seen a girl, she’s—seems about yay-high and she’s wearing pink leggings and a tight pink top. Oh—she’s pretty—long nails. My girlfriend, do you know where my girlfriend is?” Ellie choked, her sanity was slipping. Her bloodshot eyes were crazed as she stared down at the cashier like the woman held the answer to curing Ellie’s mental suffering. 

  “N-no. Sorry I didn’t see a girl with pink leggings.”

  “No?” Ellie’s voice grew fainter, weaker. She sobbed “are you sure?” but her voice crackled with that sentence, and the cashier just stared at her with a puzzled expression, unsure of what to say to diffuse the situation. 

  Ellie stumbled out of the store, flinching at the expressions of customers who were looking around the store to see if they were the only one witnessing the girl's mounting panic attack. She ran to an empty hallway in the mall. The one where they kept those gumball machines that hadn’t been replaced since 1998. She fell to her knees and curled in on herself. Her nails scratched her scalp until it broke skin, trying to draw out the thoughts of being alone, being alone, being alone, being, alone, being alone, being alone, being alone, being alone, out of her head. 

Ellie tugged at her hair now, using the self-inflicted pain to distract from that hungry giggling fear, the one that wrapped itself around her eyes and throat and told her to describe what she saw: loneliness. Pitch black, devoid of warmth, pure unadulterated isolation. 

She needed you, needed you so bad as she cried to herself on her knees. She should’ve never let you go alone, she should’ve never let you walk away from her, she should’ve never let you have an hour to leave her, she should’ve never let you take her wallet and not take her, she should’ve never ever ever ever ignored the signs, the raised hairs and the feeling of dread that pooled in her stomach the past week. Just waiting to be triggered by something insignificant. Now it was triggered, and in an incredibly public place too. Ellie beat her chest, coughing just to bring herself down from the dissociative hell her mind was flinching in. “Baby where are you? I’m hurting…it’s hurting me again. Pleasepleasepleaseplease, peach.”  

  Nails bluntly tickled her nape, sending a shiver down her spine just as the smell of sweet jasmine and vanilla perfume engulfed her. Ellie broke from her kneeling fetal position to draw you into her lap. She didn’t even need to look at you, she knew you like the back of her hand. Ellie knew the feeling of those acrylic nails because of how deeply they’d scratched down her back in bed. She knew the smell of your perfume from how often she’d buried her face into your waiting body after work for comfort. Her grip was painful, likely breaking capillaries from its tightness. She mewled for you like a kitten finding its mother. “Babygirl.” 

  “Ellie—Ellie I’m sorry did I take too long? I set an alarm, I don’t think it went off, I’m sorry Ellie I didn’t mean too I promise.” Ellie let out a wet laugh from where her face was crooned in your neck. She just shook her head. It absolutely was not your fault. But God weren’t you just the cutest fucking thing in the world for thinking you’d made another little mistake? How sweet, that even in the face of Ellie’s utter mental crack and breakdown, you found a way to give your baby the benefit of the doubt. Ellie dragged her face up your neck, inhaling deeply as her nose traced a path up your throat. The scent alone was like Xanax to the nerves, drowning her in a sea of serenity. Letting the anxiety ebb away until it was no more than a dull twinge, the whispers reduced to muted hums. You were her light. Ellie’s grip on you tightened, her medicine. 

  She pulled her face away, and she could only imagine how distressed she must’ve looked by the way your eyebrows drew up, and by the way your pretty little lips formed a worried pout. Ellie gnawed on her bottom lip. There was nothing to fear, you would understand. 

“You didn’t take too long princess, I just had a panic attack.”

  Your hands flew to cup Ellie’s reddened blotchy cheeks, massaging her face cutely as her eyelashes fluttered. God, you were a balm. “I should’ve seen it coming, I’ve been feeling so out of it the past week. But then this morning was so fun. We made fluffy pancakes, you sat on my lap and listened to my dumb work drama, helped me trim my bangs, then...” Ellie blew air into her cheeks and looked up. This was going to be hard to say. Felt like a lump stuck in her throat. “Then we got ready and the kiss we had before we got in the car made everything melt away. This morning was so good baby, so good. I tried to ignore it, thinking my brain just wanted to be a little asshole and spook me for no reason. But no—I should’ve known—it doesn’t play tricks, it only gives warnings.” 

  Ellie leaned into your palms, she kissed them gently. “Can we go home baby?.” She held your gaze through wet eyelashes. You nodded “Mhm. I’m sorry Els I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I missed you.” You were disappointed because you didn’t intuitively know the right words to say, and how to say them. Didn’t know how to articulate that you understood her pain but she also shouldn’t beat herself up. Everything you thought of sounded cliche, you weren’t smarter than her, you weren’t able to come up with reassuring words the way other people could. Not like her uncle Tommy or Maria, or anyone. All you could do was cover her in kisses, tell her you loved her, that next time you’d never ever be separated from her, and cradle her head against your chest. 

  Ellie rose to her feet, pulling you up with her by your elbows. The kiss that followed was for comfort, for reassurance. For the feeling of squeezing her human emotional support plushie. 

  Ellie pulled away first, leaving you wanting more. She tasted so good, smelled so good. Made you want to pur and stroke her through her jeans. But it wasn’t the time nor place. Not after recent events. 

“Did you get your earrings at least?” 

“Yeah, I got a pair for you too!” You shared excitedly. 

  Ellie was still shaken up, but for now she could break out a small grin. “You got earrings for me?”

  “Yes, same color too!” 

  “Baby, my ears aren’t even pierced...”

  “Oh.” Ellie loved that, your characteristic little ‘oh’. 

“I knew that. I just got them for when—for when you decided to pierce them, yeah.” 

Ellie was hot in your heels as you two made your way out of the mall “Is that right?”

“Mhm.” You refused to meet her eyes.

“Oh yeah? K, then. Thank you so much for getting me a gift using my credit card.”

 “You’re very welcome, I love when we match as a couple. Els when we got home, did you want my chicken noodle? Cause it’ll make you feel better.”  

Ellie sucked in a breath. Cuteness aggression was real, and she was feeling it so hard right then. Right after her emotions had already been frayed by her anxiety. She knew, if it wasn’t for the way the panic attack had left her feeling utterly exhausted, bone tired like a wet blanket, ready to drop at a moment's notice to recuperate, that she would’ve done something that would’ve pulled a squeal out of you in the car. And she had the package to do so. 

  “Sure, I’ll eat your damn noodle soup.” She chuckled tiredly. 

  You put both palms on her chest and leaned in to kiss her, stealing back some of the desire that was ripped away too soon in the mall. 

“You’ll feel better in no time.” 

 Ellie gave you a once-over. Over eager, as usual. 

“Somehow I don’t doubt that.” 

  You littered her face in kisses all the way home, like you always did. Like you thought each press of your lips to her freckled face was going to cure her of her anguish. And believe Ellie, every press of your puffy lips to her cheeks, tip of her nose and forehead did more for her state of mind than two hours of trauma therapy a week did. Or at least that’s what she’d like to believe. Fuck the noddle soup, it’s you. You’re what’s going to make her feel better. As long as you’re there, everyday for her to come home to. All she needed was her pretty princess, her little babydoll, her little bimbo.

[girlokwhatever]

Emily engstler x passenger princess!reader go on a road trip

can be one shot/headcannon

emily engstler x passenger princess!gf hcs

˚ · .·˚ ༘*ೃ༄ʬ꩜ emily engstler and passenger princess gf on a roadtrip,,

— it’s……. so chaotic

— she’s trying to body slam all of your bags into the trunk while you sit and watch

- you always ask if she wants help but she says no.

— once the two of you finally get on the road she’s a little more relaxed

— her hand is immediately on some part of your body

- hand, shoulder, back of your neck, thighs, anywhere she can reach tbh

— you guys listen to sapphic music together!!

- she’s always giving you the aux 🤗

— if the roadtrip is late at night she gets really sappy for some reason

- always giving some love-drunk confession

- “i can’t wait to marry you.”

- “i always felt like green was your color baby.”

- “i love it when you hum.”

— “can i have a kiss?”

- “but you’re driving?”

- “doesn’t matter.”

— she ALWAYS insists on driving

— she also always tries to pack you snacks for the road and a blanket so you can be cozy

— “oh my god that fast food is making my car stink so bad.”

- “no im pretty sure that’s your attitude stinking it up in here.”

— you need to use the bathroom every hour…..

— windows down on summer days >>>>

— “you look so pretty right now.”

— if you brought a book to read she’ll ask if you can read it out loud

— “i’m so hungry i’m gonna eat you emily.”

- “i wouldn’t mind.”

— “baby don’t put your feet on the dash, that’s dangerous.”

— even though she packs you snacks you always end up getting something at the gas station or some fast food restaurant

— you always get out of the car with her at the gas station because you just want to hold and kiss her

- it’s been awhile and you miss her

— “can i get a chip please?”

- you feed it to her 🤗

— you guys play stupid games together to help the time pass

- “ok.. lemme think. oh! ok ok i got one. she’s a ten buuuuttttt she never brushes her teeth.”

- “ew what?! gross. zero. she’s a zero.”

— you’re always taking scenic photos

— sometimes you like to video the roadtrip just for cute memories

— “babe there’s something in the road..”

- “OH SHIT”

- “OH MY GOD OH MY FUCK! DONT SWERVE LIKE THAT EM.”

— “i forgot my water so im gonna drink some of yours.”

— she tries to keep you awake as long as possible but you falling asleep is just inevitable

- will talk your ear off anyway

— emily likes to take pictures of you when you fall asleep

- when she shows you said pictures you get mad because,

- “why are you on your phone if you’re driving.”

— “you look really cozy over there…”

- “i am. thanks for noticing.”

- gives you the most diabolical side-eye

— lets not talk about that time you teased her though……. iykyk

— she likes holding your hand and kissing your knuckles

- says it helps her focus

— you like holding her hand and playing with her fingers or tracing her tattoos

— “are we almost there?!”

— you always wear fluffy socks 🤗🤗🤗

— you guys always scream song lyrics together LMAO

— “that sign says tennessee but babe.. you’re the only ten i see.”

- “please never speak again.”

— you always lean the seat all the way back

- it pisses emily off LOL

— “babe i think you need to put your shoes back on.. somethings stinks..”

-……….

- “OW! babe i was just joking.”

˚ · .·˚ ༘*ೃ༄ʬ꩜

enjoy!!!

i had to make this twice cause i accidentally swiped out right as i finished it…….. 👹

[urfavlarry]

Fallen Blessings

Alastor x fallen angel!reader

warnings: none!

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╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 📻 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Alastor stood behind you, hand on your hip as he watched with a insane looking smile as all of hell fall into panic as the angelic exterminaion began. A white angelic light emited hells lonely streets, thousands and thousands of exterminators flying down like hungry animals. “So much for being ‘angelic beings’.” You think to yourself and scoff. Alastor twirls you around, smirking down at you. You stared at him without a bit of expression on your face, examining every inch of his face. Slow jazz music starts to play, Alastor swaying with you as loud screams start to echo through the pride ring. Your mind was else where as Alastor dipped you, your head barely above the ground. You think about how heaven once was, your once pearly white wings were a gray, almost black color, the tips of your feathers still a vibrant gold. You never could have imagined that heaven, a paradise where most of humanity wishes to end up after death would decide on such a cruel thing as exterminations. You get pulled back into reality when Alastor cups your cheek, making your once innocent eyes look into his crimson ones. He pinches your cheek making you wince.

“What’s bothering you mon chéri?” He says and you shrug, looking back at the ruckus outside. “It’s nothing love, just thinking about.. heaven.” You say and he laughs out loud, making you look at him with a raised brow. “Oh but whatever for? You��ve got me down here in this wretched place, don’t you?” He says and you nod, leaning your head on his chest, swaying a bit more slowly. “Just wonder of how things would be if I managed to convince the high Seraphim to stop those exterminations, or if I never even found out about them in the first place.” You say making him stop in his tracks as if he just got frozen in place. He grabs you by the shoulders and looks you in the eyes. “You never told me about this?” He asks with a curious smile, leading you to the couch in the hotels library. He looks at you expectantly, looking like a child that’s about to find out about the tooth fairy, which was a funny sight since this is the radio demon we’re talking about here.

So you tell him about the events before getting thrown out of the eternal paradise they call heaven. Getting caught listening to a conversation the first human; Adam and the high Seraphim; Sera were having about hells overpopulation. You weren’t caught for being loud, no, no. You were too naive to think there wasn’t an angel right on the other side of the door who heard your little gasp after finding about the exterminations. And so you were thrown out, which was a bit stupid considering they added another soul to the already overpopulated hell. Alastor laughed, commenting on how reckless the angels were which you somewhat agreed to. “Maybe things could’ve been different, and maybe that whole event is the reason why i’m here in this hotel. I doubt it will work but I have hopes for the girl. She’s smart but she has a long way to go to achieve this dream, if it’s even possible.” You rant, fiddling with your fingers and look anywhere but at Alastor. He puts a hand on yours, squeezing it lightly as comfort. You open your mouth to speak but get interrupted by Alastor. “They were reckless to kick out such a heavenly soul into hells streets.” He starts making your stomach turn. “They have no idea what a blessing they lost.” Your cheeks redden as he kisses your cheek, pulling you closer by the waist.

“You’re a true angel mon amour, when I saw you I thought I was getting redeemed into heaven that’s how heavenly you are.”

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╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 📻 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[lv2mt]

hungry

this is my first time writing smut feel free to give me any tips☺️

the sun was reflecting of his skin, sweat was dripping off his body, the way he would bite his lips out of frustration. you was mesmerized by the married man in font of you.

you had known art for a couple of years you both meet up a lot there has never been sexual tension between you and art but recently he's all you've ever needed.

art finished his practice and you both went back to his car, for some reason the car drive was silent but you didn't mind because being with him just made your mind go to the most dirtiest imagination.

"y/n?" art said breaking the silence "yeah" i took my eyes of the window to look at him, he looked frustrated like he needed something. "i need to talk to you about something" he looked back at me but his eyes travelled to my lips then back on the road.

my body knew what he wanted and it turned me on even more. "sure what's up?" his hand gripped on the wheel making his hand pop out in veins. "this tension between us, i can't help but want you" i was shocked hearing that come out his mouth but it made me hungry for him.

i didn't know what to say i wanted him to have me, do anything to me but i just couldn't think of how to word it. "this tension i feel it your all i can think about but you have a wife art i don't want to ruin that for you" i said still looking at him but then looked out the window to notice he's pulled up in some empty parking lot.

he turned his head to look at me, his eyes was cold like he was demanding that he wanted me. “don’t worry about her” his tone of voice sounded so careless but it was attractive.

i couldn’t hold it in anymore i took the lead and kissed him, his lips was soft our lips just felt meant for each other like a jigsaw piece.

he slipped his tongue in my mouth, one hand traveling to my hips as the other on my cheek. our breaths filling up the car, all i could think about was him in me i needed it, i needed it now.

“you don’t know how much i’ve been needing this” art said in between kissing, “oh yea baby” his lips moving down to my neck marking it as his and i loved it.

he pulled back his seat and i sat on his lap his hand traveling up my summer dress, his fingers rubbing my heat feeling the wetness of my panties. “already this wet hm” his voice sounded so hot “mhm”

his fingers now in me, at first he was going slow i knew what he wanted, he wanted me to beg and that’s what i did “art go faster please” he smiled looking at me, mesmerised by the woman who’s begging for him. his pace fastens even putting another finger up me, my head on his chest moaning.

“you feel so good” i try to say “oh yea?” art replies back then slowing his pace and pulling out his fingers, he then continues to lick the cum of them, i needed him in me i couldn’t wait much longer but he already knew that.

i lifted up a bit so he could take his shorts and boxers off while i took my thong off, we didn’t have a condom but i was on the pill so that didn’t matter. “you ready baby” he asked i nodded in approval.

his big dick going in me stretching me out, my eyes watering from the slight pain but that soon went as i started to thrust on him making us both moan.

the car shaking making it obvious what we was doing on the outside but we didn’t care, the thought of us getting caught just made it even more sexy.

our lips numbing from the force of us making out. “y/n i’m gonna cum” them words coming out his mouth triggered me to go even faster. hearing the moans and grunts coming out his mouth was like listening to music.

the faster i got the more closer we both was so coming it wouldn’t take long now. his hands gripped on my waist and his head rolled back leaving a empty space on his neck, i kissed all down it making one of his hand grip on my hair.

a couple of minutes went by and i felt his warm load in me and mine on his. he was still in me but we was still, not moving and now just catching our breaths. i lifted myself back up making his dick exit me.

he put his boxer and shorts back on n i put my panties back on making us now clothed again. “your neck” art said shocked of what he did, i moved and sat back in the passenger seat getting my phone and looking in the camera.

my eyes widened the trail of hickeys all down my neck “oh my god art!” i said but i didn’t bother me it shows that i am now his. we both laughed about my neck “i guess i was just in the moment to even realise” we both just laughed and smiled at each other.

“that was fun” i said hoping to get the same response back “we should do it again be our little secret” i once again nodded my head as approval and he gave me a peck on my head.

[shadesslut]

can i request a little ethan smut with a big size kink. man is 6'2

Thank you for your request! Enjoy!

fucktoy

MINORS DNI

Pairing: (Ethan Landry x Short!Fem!Reader)

Content Includes: (Size kink, smut)

Summary: Ethan just loves how small Y/N feels in his hands.

Masterlist

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It was supposed to be a peaceful night for Y/N. A night full of reading and drinking wine, while listening to her music. She sighed in relaxation as she flipped to the next page. A loud crash came from the kitchen, and she flopped her book down on her lap, sighing. Ethan was working in her kitchen fixing the pipes under her sink. The noises had occurred for the past two hours, interrupting her every ten minutes. 

She huffed, swinging her legs off her bed as she stood up. She marched into the kitchen, crossing her arms over her sleep-shirt. “Are you almost done?” 

Ethan tilted his head from under the sink, his crooked smile showing as he saw her. He had grease on his face and white tee. 

“Almost, sorry,” Ethan said. 

“It’s okay. Hey, it’s getting late, maybe you should stop for tonight.” Y/N suggested, hoping Ethan would leave so she could continue her reading in silence. He glanced at the pipes one more time, and then back to her before sliding out. He stood up in front of her, towering over her. She gulped and stepped back. His shirt hugged his torso well, and Y/N let her eyes wander down to his hips. She felt small near him, the man was six feet tall. She had to crank her neck back to be able to make eye contact with him. 

“You gonna be okay?” Ethan softly asked, wiping his hands on the dirty rag in his hands. 

“Pft yeah, I can last one night without cleaning the dishes.” She chuckled, swatting her hand sarcastically. “You wanna use my shower?” She asked. She jokingly pinched her nose and squinted her eyes.

Ethan laughed with her, shaking his head. “Oh, whatever, and sure if you don’t mind.” He smiled. 

–

She waited anxiously on her bed as the shower ran, just finishing washing Ethan’s clothes. The thought of Ethan, naked, showering in her bathroom made her face warm. She tried not to think about it, trying desperately to read her book, but she had been on the same page for twenty minutes. She put her book down, and she glanced over at the bathroom door. 

Slowly, she reached under her blanket to her shorts. She gently applied pressure on her clit, softly gasping at her touch. She closed her eyes and thought of Ethan, thought about showering with him. If he would kiss her as he rubbed soap over her breasts, or if he wouldn’t clean at all and just pound into her against the wall.

She quietly whined his name as she touched herself, but quickly pulled her hand out once she heard the shower turn off. 

“Ah shit,” she heard his voice muffled. The door opened, and Y/N’s mouth dropped to the floor. Ethan awkwardly stepped out, towel wrapped loosely around his waist as he held it with one hand. His entire chest was revealed, showing off his glistening abs. A trail of dark hair rested right above his, well, you know, and his v-line was prominent. His hair was still sopping wet, and a few strands stuck out as it dripped water. 

“I’m so sorry, but you have my clothes.” Ethan spoke nervously. Y/N only stared, not processing anything Ethan had said. Ethan’s cheeks turned pink, and he shifted awkwardly. “Y/N? My clothes?” 

“Fuck-Sorry,” she whispered, reaching over to grab his neatly folded clothes. She held them out for him, and he smiled nervously as he walked over to her. He didn’t grab them though. He only stood above her, looking down at her. Her eyes were met with his upper stomach, the height difference making her knees go weak. “Ethan…?” She trailed off, looking up at him. 

He wore a desperate and hungry expression. Before she knew it, he pulled her to him by her hips, causing her to gasp in surprise. His clothes dropped from her hands, now long forgotten. She let out a muffled “Umph!” as Ethan forced his lips on hers. 

His lips moved in a desperate motion, as if she was water and he had been thirsty for a week. He was sloppy, not caring about perfecting his movements. She, on the other hand, was careful with hers. She traced her fingers along his stomach, barely grazing.  

Her fingers stopped at his happy trail, and she flicked her eyes downward. He noticed, and chuckled as he followed her gaze. 

“You want me to take the towel off or do you wanna shove your pretty little head under it?” Ethan whispered lowly, bending down, lips grazing her ear. She involuntarily whined. Never in her life had she felt this turned on. 

“Take it off,” she whispered, partly asking and partly telling him. He breathed heavily and stared at her as he unwrapped the towel, letting it fall to his ankles. Her eyes widened at his half-hard dick. He was far bigger than she imagined, and he wasn’t even fully hard. 

She was entranced, she never looked away for a second. Her eyes followed the vein that ran up the underside of his dick, finishing at his soft pink tip. He stood confidently, slightly leaning on his hip as he stared down her shirt. His hand grabbed at her chin, and he lifted her head up to meet his gaze. Pulling her towards him, he placed her hand on his shaft, squeezing his fingers around hers. 

His eyes closed at the pressure, and he smirked pridefully looking at her again, this time his eyes gazing at her lips. He kissed her on her neck, finding every sweet spot. She never noticed how small she felt in his hands, his hand covered her whole tit and some of her upper stomach. He had to arch his back over just to be able to reach her lips with his. 

She whined as she stroked him slowly. He was painfully hard. Her small fingers could barely wrap around him, and he thought it was the hottest thing ever. “You’re so small,” he whispered against her neck. 

“You’re so big,” she said, not referring to his height.

Ethan chuckled. Feeling exposed, Ethan started to raise the hem of her shirt up, pulling it over her head. He smiled, looking her up and down. “What?” she huffed as she started to become shy.

“I wonder how small your pussy is. You think I’ll fit?” He didn’t let her answer, only shoving her against the wall. She gasped, his hands flipping her around by her hips. He pulled her shorts and panties down, and he pressed his pelvis against her back. “So short, ‘m gonna have to hold you up,” he mumbled. 

He hooked her right leg onto the crook of his forearm, her knee sliding up the wall. She silently cursed in her head as she knew what she was about to go through. He softly kissed her shoulder, and whispered, “This okay?” 

She nodded, her cheek pressed against the wall. He inhaled deeply as he stuck his face into the crook of her neck. Slowly, he slid inside of her. 

The stretch was painful, but felt so good. “Too much,” she whined.

He only laughed, inching further inside her. “I think you can take a bit more, right?” He teased. She nodded obediently, and he thrusted all the way inside her.  He groaned as he slipped fully inside, his face growing hot. He fit beautifully in her cunt, stretching her enough to make her eyes water. His hands encircled her love handles and thigh, squishing her flesh. 

His muscular chest slid against the small of her back as he moved his hips. His arms flexed, his grip on her tightening by the second. “That’s it,” he grunted, slapping her ass. He slightly lifted her other leg up, her body now fully off the ground. She felt so small in his arms, like his little doll, his little plaything to fuck. “take my fucking cock,” 

She squeezed her eyes closed at the pleasure. She arched her back against him, gasping at the new angle he thrusted at. He hit her g-spot, and she unsubconsciously clenched around him, swallowing him even more. She felt her stomach feel weird, and she felt his cock twitching inside her. 

His hand reached to her stomach, lightly pressing down. He felt himself moving, smiling at how deep he was inside her. 

“Can feel me ripping you apart, baby.” 

She moaned in response. 

Wet, lewd noises filled her ears. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he continued to pound into her. It was too much for her, he was too big, too thick. She knew for sure she wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. 

“Yeah, oh fuck yeah,” he moaned, speeding up his pace. “‘M getting close,”

Her head threw back, and she opened her mouth at the speed of his pace. No one else would ever make her feel this good, and the fucker knew it. She reached behind her to rest her hand on his hips, lightly squeezing. “I’m gonna, gonna,”

He nodded frantically as he threw his own head back. He was fully pressed against her back, pushing her roughly against the wall. He rolled his hips into her, his hold on her small thighs slowly growing weaker and weaker. He looked at the hand that still rested on her belly bulge, and that was it for him. He came, and he came hard. He spewed inside of her, already feeling his liquid slide out of her. She didn’t finish, but she was satisfied. She only wanted to be a little fucktoy for Ethan. No regards to her needs, only his. 

He whimpered, pulling out, and immediately the white liquid rolled down her thigh. “Fuck,” she whispered watching it drip out of her cunt. Ethan’s forehead was pressed against her shoulder, his chest rising up and down.

“Next time,” he panted, then smiled. “I’m gonna tie you up,”

[odxrilove]

SILVER PLATTER – l.jn

pairing: jeno x f!reader

genre: band!au (not mentionned much!!), uni!au, friends to ?, 3k~

synopsis: when you get confessed to in front of your friends and band members, not everyone seems to think it's funny.

back to masterlist!

“– I know that we aren’t really close but ever since the day you asked for my notes in our english literature seminar last year, i’ve been admiring you from afar! You always look so mysterious and so cool and- and, you’re even in a band! I- I don’t really listen to your group’s music except for your parts– your voice is really beautiful!– i’ve loved you for so long and i–” 

“But,” you cut off the nervous boy’s rambling a little too firmly than you would have liked, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to calm yourself down. “I don't know you…” 

There it is, the sentence that makes Donghyuck burst out into laughter. 

You can hear a stifled laugh from where you’re standing near the guitar stands and you don’t even have to guess to know who the culprit is. You can feel your friends’ eyes boring holes in your back from the other side of the room and you just know Jaemin and Donghyuck are having a field day seeing you like this. 

When you look back at the boy in front of you, you audibly sigh as he turns beet red, holding his hands in front of him and staring at his shoes. “Look, i’m sure you’re a really nice guy but i’m not really interested in dating–” 

You feel bad, even more so when he– whose name is still unknown– gives you puppy eyes. Automatically, your voice softens as much as possible and a frown takes over your face. 

“–you.”

Your back is still turned to your friends but you know they are listening in on the conversation as best as they can, hungry for anything with which they can tease you with. 

Donghyuck is glued onto every word you tell the poor boy, narrating everything in a whisper to Renjun. Renjun (you pity him, truly) doesn’t seem fazed by the ongoing situation, which only makes his best friend complain. 

You don’t even have to glance their way to know that Donghyuck is probably taking up all the space on one of the couches in the corner of the music room, legs dangling off and arms crossed over the backrest. 

You’re sure he’s smiling with every second that passes. He’s so evil, you think.

The boy in front of you seems to space out for a minute or so and you, being the awkward person and people pleaser you are, stay still in place, patiently and nervously waiting for him to gather his thoughts. 

He snaps out of it when he hears Jaemin chuckle about disliking “tomatoes” and you don’t think you’ve ever wished to be buried six feet under as much as you do now. Why can’t they just act normal in delicate situations!

You cross your arms over your chest, your hoodie (Jeno’s hoodie, so unofficially your hoodie) keeping you warm as cold wind enters the room every time someone opens the door. 

This is awkward– worser than usual.

It’s not the first time someone has confessed to you, but it certainly is the first time that you can’t even place a name on the person asking you out. Guilt fills your veins but you’re sure the guy doesn’t feel that good himself either. 

You place the notebook you were holding on the desk next to you and rake a hand through your hair, other hand on your hip as you wait. And wait.

The hoodie hangs comfortably off your shoulders and the mix of laundry detergent, mint and raspberry-lemonade fills your nostrils. In a way, the scent is comforting, surrounding and hugging you. 

You really like Jeno’s laundry detergent. Maybe he can tell you the brand he uses.

You also really like how fruity the hoodie smells– hints of raspberry floating in the air around you– just like the smoothie Jeno had bought for you earlier that morning. You think it’s cute how there is something that “belongs” to you on something that belongs to Jeno (you even smile a bit at the thought). 

Oh. This feels weird.

Just before you can turn around and glance at your friends, a small voice interrupts your thoughts. It takes you a few seconds to realize the boy (he’s probably a few years younger than you– maybe a sophomore?) is talking to you and when his eyes meet yours, he quickly clears his throat and starts over. 

God, you feel awful. You’re the worst senior ever.

This time, you really try to focus on his words, although the giggles and teasing chuckles coming from the back of the room make it a really difficult task. “uhm, you- you said you didn’t want to date me,” he gulps and you almost cringe at the tremor in his voice (poor, poor guy) “is it because you have someone else?” 

Well, you didn’t expect him to be so blunt minutes after getting rejected. 

Nodding your head a few times, your tongue feels numb and your fingers start to tingle at how tight you curl them into a first. You don’t really know what to say, partially because you don’t want to make the boy cry and also because you know your friends are listening. 

Donghyuck is listening (he’s always listening) and everyone knows how dramatic he can be. He would probably gasp and claim your reputation as the hot sultry cold-hearted bassist of your band is ruined.

Jeno is listening too. You don’t even want to start thinking about his possible reaction– that can be a problem for another day (procrastinating is your biggest flaw).

Oh well, honesty comes first. Your mom would be proud if she knew.

The words coming out of your mouth in waves are barely comprehensible and you realize mid-sentence that the one supposed to understand them the most doesn’t. So, after a sigh and a deep breath, you start over. 

“I’m single but I do have my eyes on,” you pause, voice cracking and ears red– you can just feel them watching you, ”someone.” 

(You hope the boy doesn’t realize how awkward and stiff you are).

It’s like waiting for a verdict, standing there in the middle of the room while the boy slowly comes to realization. When it finally dawns on him, he throws his backpack on a desk nearby and starts to quickly gather his things, scrambling to put them in his flimsy bag. 

Your mouth falls open but nothing comes out so you just stare in surprise. Just when he begins to zip up his bag, he turns to you and upon finding you staring at him, flinches, sending his open bag toppling to the ground. 

Notebooks, pens and papers cover the ground soon after and at the disheartening sight at your feet, you crouch down alongside the sophomore (or freshman, you’re not sure) to help him pick his stuff up. He likely didn’t notice you crouching down to help him because he flinches even harder when you accidentally brush up against his sleeve.

In a split second, he’s out the door, the words “I’m sorry” dying on your tongue. He’s left behind a few scattered papers, a textbook you were holding out to him and a single pen hiding near a desk leg. 

You, on the other hand, are ready to bury yourself alive. What an awful day (it all started this morning when you ran out of milk for your cereals– ugh, you really don’t want to talk about it!)

With a huff and pressed lips you get up from your spot on the floor, brushing off the dust from your knees and picking up your notebook from one of the desks. Shame overwhelms you as you walk back to your friends in the corner of the room, holding both books in your hands and trying not to let the embarrassment take over– you’ll probably cry. 

Jaemin is the first one to greet you with a grin you can only describe as malicious. His arms are crossed over his chest and he seems to have enjoyed the scene, just like Donghyuck, who whistles and pushes your thigh with the tip of his shoe when you walk by. 

You throw the two notebooks on the old shabby coffee table and plop down on the couch, burying yourself as deep as possible in the sofa. You grab a pillow next to you and put it on your lap, using it as a shield for your eyes. 

Donghyuck continues to laugh all throughout and you even hear Renjun let out a little chuckle. Assholes. 

Jeno is the only one you haven’t heard from since you’ve come back to your little circle and when you uncover your eyes, you notice how his jaw is clenched. He looks intimidating, one arm hanging off the armrest and the other behind you on the headrest. He’s lazily tapping the side of the couch with his fingers but you know it’s only to calm himself down. You don’t realize you’re staring until he speaks up. 

“Stop trying to analyze me, psych major freak.” oof.

You roll your eyes, huffing and expressing your discontent through a pout as you hug the pillow. It’s not long before he gives in and flicks your forehead, eyes softening. “Stop trying to make me feel bad, it almost works.” He mutters. 

(You like that you know his weaknesses by heart).

“Hey yn,” You whip your head around at the mention of your name. “you’ sure the guy wasn’t something for you? I heard he works at that new cafe on campus you like.” Jaemin laughs at his own joke and highfives Donghyuck, proud of himself. 

You fall silent for a short while. “Is that why I kinda recognized him?– anyways, that doesn’t matter, he could literally be my little brother!” You whine a bit, “you’re not even being funny…”

Renjun tsks at his friends’ behavior but continues mindlessly scrolling through his phone, clearly more invested in a random reddit AITA tiktok video than their endless banter. 

This time, it’s Donghyuck that decides you need to be teased. “So, are you going to tell us who your prince charming is, the oh-so famous guy you like?”

“Absolutely not.” 

“Oh c’mon!” Donghyuck offendedly throws his hands in the air, “If Jeno had asked you, you would have told him..” 

You can only chuckle a bit as your friend had already given up, sliding down the couch to prop his feet on the coffee table, ultimately making it creak. Jeno doesn’t miss the way your cheeks heat up, and you don’t miss how he smirks because he knows ‘Hyuck’s right. 

A small group on the other side of the room starts prepping some instruments so you let yourself relax, falling back against the backrest and pulling the hoodie’s sleeves over your hands. 

You really enjoy hanging out with your friends in the music room, it’s never boring. More often than not, the room is completely empty for you to use, and with its couches, taking naps between band practice is a must and a privilege on campus. 

Your seat on the red couch is your self-designated spot, and sometimes when you’re feeling extra childish, you tease Jeno about having deliberately picked the spot next to you, even though you know Renjun always chooses the beanbag and the other two always run for the leather couch, leaving him with no other option than next to you. 

Jeno never denied your claim though, because with time it’s like he indeed deliberately chooses the seat next to you, every single time. 

He also likes hearing and seeing you giggle after you tease him, but you don’t have to know that. 

If Jeno had to be honest with himself, he knew he was a bad liar when it came to you, but that didn’t stop him from trying to act like he was oblivious to your friends’ teasing concerning your close friendship. 

He knows they would probably text him later that day, snarky comments about how you’ve been wearing his clothes much more regularly than usual. And like always, Jeno would just send a disapproving text back, followed by two or three middle fingers emojis, depending on his mood. 

Tonight, it would surely be five middle fingers. 

There’s one thing he can’t deny though, and it’s that you are indeed wearing his clothes more regularly. At first, he would roll his eyes when seeing you in one of his sweaters during class, just to keep the act up, but now, he can’t help but look you up and down and give you a little nod. 

You had loved to point out that he smiled yesterday morning when seeing you, which he rushed to deny, ears furiously turning red. 

You looked good though– maybe he would lend you his new green hoodie (moreso “accidently” leaving it at yours after hanging out). He just knows the color would suit you.

His arm is still on the headrest behind you and your hair brushes against his sleeve. He could pat your head right now, or fiddle with the loose strands of your hair, his hand is right behind you. He doesn’t let himself indulge in that little fantasy (he’d prefer to call it a fleeting thought) of his though. Not yet at least.

Your eyes glance over jeno’s profile, watching his hair fall in front of his eyes and his eyelashes flutter, before a small chuckle escapes your mouth. You turn to Donghyuck just as Jeno looks at you, curious. 

“Maybe I’ll tell y’all one day.” You smirk, acting disinterested as you study your nails, shrugging, “Maybe not.” 

A loud whine escapes Donghyuck and you have to cover your giggles so as to not “offend” him more. Your friend drags his plea on, lifting his arms in the air to show his desperation and getting slapped on the arm by Jaemin in the process, trying to shut him up.

Shivers run down your spine when you feel Jeno’s breath near your cheek and your eyes widen slightly, not used to the proximity. When you turn your face to look at him, body slightly stiff, you make eye contact with him and he seems entertained by your reaction. With the way his eyes shine and his lips are curled, you know his tone is going to be teasing. “Y’know, you were very professional back there..” 

You don’t answer directly, startled, so your laugh sounds a bit breathless as you try to find the right words, your mouth suddenly dry. “You think so?” 

He hums, leaning back a bit and spreading his legs before lifting one over the other. “If you need me to pretend to be your boyfriend, just ask,” With a grin, he swipes his fluffy hair back, some strands immediately falling back, too unruly, “I’ll come running.” 

You’re surprised by his forwardness but can’t help but find it endearing– the way his smile turns warm and adoration fills his eyes. It’s something you’ve always enjoyed seeing in Jeno, and knowing it’s directed towards you makes you giddy, your cheeks heating up.

You’re shying away but you don’t really want him to know all the effect he has on you– although you’re sure he knows quite well already– so you tease back, head tilting to the side, “Jeno Lee, are you offering yourself to me on a silver platter?” You furrow your eyebrows dramatically, mouth opening in a mocking gasp. 

In return, Jeno eyes your crossed arms and cocks an eyebrow, “I wouldn’t want to overshadow your crush though.” 

You lick your lips and Jeno stares.

“He won’t have to know.” 

A smile breaks out onto his face and you tear your gaze away, too embarrassed by your own words to face him. You can still feel his eyes on the side of your face so you look down to his jeans, swiftly flicking his upper thigh to direct his attention elsewhere. Anywhere but on you really. 

A short chuckle leaves him before he’s coughing to cover it up, wanting to please you. It’s not long before he too faces your other friends and allows himself to relax a bit, finally rejoining the friendly banter in your circle. 

You don’t question it and Jeno doesn’t express it but the arm he slides over the backrest and around the back of your neck and shoulders means something. The weight of his toned arm feels nice on your shoulders and the touch of his fingertips against the sleeve of your hoodie is almost fleeting, but still present. 

Unconsciously, you smile and Jeno thinks you’ve never been prettier, with his arm around you and a soft blush adorning your cheeks. 

taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @cherriespopsicle @odetoyeonjun @sensitively-taken @pockyandme @soobin-chois @lolalee24 @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @yoonzin0 @todorokiskitten @4xiaojun @chokopocky @silverdoragon @neos127 @angelyeo-hyj @dokyeomkyeom @moonkyeom

please do not copy, repost or steal any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

[spaceshipellie]

stacy’s mom

dina x masc!reader

part one (two)

summary: you want to fuck your friend’s mom and that’s it

warnings: MILF DINA HELLO, smut with friend’s mum, smut with plot, age gap (reader is early 20s and dina is in her 40s), reader is such a simp, eating out and fingering (d receiving), 18+ mdni

author’s note: i wanted to to try and write something with a more masc reader too and this seemed fitting so hope this doesn’t flop

˚ · • . ° .

it was summer and you were sitting in your friend stacy’s garden, drinking beer, listening to music, and laughing about dumb memories from the first year of college.

“i was so intimidated by you,” she blushed.

“nah, really?” you scoffed.

“yeah, you were this cool, mysterious skater girl.”

“oh i’m not cool and mysterious anymore?”

“well,” stacy laughed, “you are cool but not mysterious.”

she slapped the front of your baseball cap before ripping it off and putting it on herself.

“ow, hey,” you laughed.

“hi girls!” a sweet, intoxicating voice sounded from over by the conservatory door. your head snapped up. stacy’s mom. god, she was hot. your stomach flipped every time you saw her.

“hi mom.”

“hi dina.”

you allowed yourself a second to quickly look her over. she was wearing denim shorts and a tank top with no bra, holding a basket of laundry on her hip. you knew it was really wrong but there was something about her you couldn’t get out of your head. maybe it was the way her hips filled out her jeans, or the way her hair flowed over her shoulder, or the way her budded nipples poked through the fabric of her top. all you knew was that you could probably fuck her better than her boring ex husband. you watched as she went back inside, bending over to pick up a sock she dropped.

“are you listening to me?”

“sorry what?” your head snapped to stacy.

“you’re so weird,” she giggled, “anyway i was saying we should try that new milkshake place that opened up in the mall.”

“oh yeah, yeah sounds good,” your voice totally distracted.

˚ · • . ° .

stacy had dragged you around so many shops in the mall, making you watch as she gave little catwalks in the changing rooms. eventually you’d got the milkshakes and were now back at her house in the kitchen where dina was preparing dinner.

“hope you’re hungry,” she smiled at you.

you licked a bit of milkshake off your finger that had dripped down the glass, looking at her. “starved.”

“good, well dinner should be ready in about thirty minutes. seeing as it’s still so hot out i thought we’d eat outside by the pool?”

“okay sounds good, we’ll be down then!” stacy chirped, grabbing your arm to pull you upstairs. your eyes, still looking at dina, lagged as you looked away. it sounds great, you thought. you hoped that by the pool also meant going in the pool.

half an hour later, dina called up the stairs that dinner was ready. her hand brushed yours as she handed you a plate and you all sat around the patio table to eat. you could see dina had a bikini top on under her top now.

“how’s college going?” she asked you both.

“not bad, still think mrs clark hates me,” stacy said, shovelling food in her mouth.

“probably because you always skip her class,” you mumbled, playfully nudging stacy’s arm. she laughed and shushed you.

“what about you?” dina said, looking straight at you.

“it’s good, mrs clark loves me,” you joked. she laughed and it made your cheeks flush, a small smirk on your face. fucking hell this was getting too much.

after you were done eating, stacy jumped up to clear the table and take the plates indoors. you shifted in your seat having been left alone with dina. the silence was burning. you cleared your throat, running your hands down your jean covered thighs.

“you know last time i was here you hadn’t finished the pool yet, looks nice.”

“oh of course! well, you guys should go in.”

you hummed in response. you didn’t have any swimming stuff with you and definitely didn’t want to borrow any of stacy’s bikinis. you would have to go in in your boxers and sport bra, which on this occasion wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“yeah sure.”

“i might join you,” dina said, loosely tying her hair in a bun, your eyes snuck a glance at how her fingers ran through her dark hair, “oh as long as you don’t mind me crashing your time with stacy,” she laughed.

“not at all,” you grinned at her. crash all you want, you thought. stacy returned, funnily enough with a bikini on.

“you coming in? i brought a bikini down for you to borrow but figured you probably don’t want it.”

“and you’d be right.” you pulled your t-shirt off over your head.

“i didn’t realise you had so many tattoos,” dina mused, seeming to admire the ink that adorned your arms and torso. you ran your hand over your stomach, instinctively looking over your tattoos yourself.

“they look great, i love them.” she was killing you.

“thanks.”

stacy was already in the pool when you started pulling your jeans off. you felt very exposed now just in your boxers but also thought fuck it and tried to keep your cool.

“jump in,” stacy giggled.

you took a couple steps back so you could run and cannonball into the pool, completely splashing stacy. when you resurfaced you rubbed the water from your eyes and shook your head. both dina and stacy were looking at you.

“you coming in then?” you nodded at dina.

she stood up and started peeling her tank top off, revealing a black string bikini. jesus. if that was bad, watching her undo the button and zipper on her denim shorts, and shimmying her hips out of them was utter torture. you knew it was wrong to stare, especially when her daughter, your friend, was right there but you couldn’t help it. you soaked in the way every inch of her body submerged into the water as she walked in. you adverted your eyes after realising you’d just been staring for ages. hopefully that sly smile on her face wasn’t because she had noticed.

you all floated around for a while, talking, trying stupid tricks. well, you doing stupid tricks to try and be impressive. it was getting late but as it was summer it was still light and warm out.

“this has been fun, but i’m off to bed,” dina said climbing out of the pool. you watched the way the water dripped off of her ass as she walked up the steps, grabbing a towel to wrap round herself.

“okay, night mom.”

“night,” you said.

“we should probably get out too,” stacy suggested and you agreed.

you were now lying on the pull out bed in stacy’s room in the dark, wearing loose sweatpant shorts and a baggy t-shirt. you couldn’t really sleep and stacy was long gone by now so you decided to get up and grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

“oh, sorry,” you mumbled upon seeing dina leaning against the counter by the sink, sipping on a mug of tea. she waved her hand as if to say carry on so you grabbed a glass and tried to ignore how close you were to her whilst you filled it up at the tap.

“can’t sleep?” she asked.

“no really, i’m basically nocturnal,” you laughed nervously. she laughed too. man, she had a pretty laugh.

“me too, i love staying up late when time allows.”

you leaned on the other counter and took a sip, watching the way she hugged the mug.

“it’s a lot more peaceful.”

“it is,” you agreed.

“like nobody knows what you’re doing.” was she…? she couldn’t be… but you could have sworn you saw her look you up and down when she said that.

“not a single clue.” you finished the water and moved closer to her, purposely leaning in slightly to place the glass by the sink behind her.

“well, g’night,” you said, your voice low.

as you turned you suddenly felt her hand grab yours so you spun around to look at her. her facial expression seemed to be a mix of wanting and contemplation. you decided to focus on the former. her hand didn’t leave yours for a moment before she realised and quickly pulled it back but she didn’t make any attempt to leave.

being taller than her, you looked down at her whilst you moved closer. you looked down and slowly reached for her hand again, testing to see how she’d react. she let you. you smirked to yourself before looking into her eyes, then her lips, then her eyes. fuck it. you leaned down to press a soft kiss on her lips. when you pulled away, your mouth hovering over hers she surprised you by grabbing your face and slamming your lips together again. your hands flew to her waist as you pinned her against the counter.

she moaned into the kiss and you took the opportunity to move your tongue against hers. it was hot and you couldn’t believe you were doing this right now. your arms wrapped around her waist and you let your hand rest half way on her ass. her hands travelled down to the hem of your t-shirt and flustered around with the amount of fabric before she managed to slip one underneath and brush your skin. oh, okay. if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get, you thought.

you pulled her tighter to your body as you moved the two of you around so that she was now pressed against a different counter. one she could sit on if necessary. she groaned as her back hit it. you started to move your kisses down to her neck.

“stacy can never know about this,” she whined breathlessly.

“mom’s the word.”

“that’s not funny,” she laughed.

“it’s pretty funny.”

your lips didn’t let up on her neck, now making their way back up to hers. you reached your hands down to her thighs and indicated for her to hop up onto the counter. you now stood between her legs, heads now the same height near enough and your hands glided up her thighs to her hips. hers became tangled in your hair as you started kissing down her body and getting onto your knees. you couldn’t believe your fucking luck right now.

you left small kisses on her inner thigh, your fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her shorts. you were half expecting her to tell you to stop, realising the situation, but her fingers only tightened themselves in your hair pushing you further. you pulled back and looked up at her whilst you peeled her shorts off, her lifting her ass to help you.

you pushed her legs further apart, exposing her glistening pussy. you could hear little whispered curses falling from her lips in anticipation.

you grinned to yourself, feeling smug, and looked up at her before flicking your tongue lightly over her clit. she flinched at the sensitivity. you gave her clit a few flicks before dragging your tongue up the length of her cunt, letting it slip between her folds.

“oh shit,” she whimpered.

you buried your face, laying your tongue flat against her, almost letting her grind herself onto you. you could taste how more slick was seeping out of her hole so you moved your fingers to tease at it.

“please,” she begged.

not wanting to push your luck too much you curled a finger inside her, letting her get used to it before slipping a second in. she let out a squeak and you laughed lightly before shushing her. the vibrations of your laugh sent a shock through her body. you worked your fingers in and out, relishing in the wet sounds it was making. your tongue kept flicking her clit until you could feel her clenching around your fingers and her legs fought to stay open.

“i’m gonna…”

“come for me.”

you fucked her through her orgasm and when her hand went limp in your hair and instead brushed it away from your face you pulled your fingers out and stood up. you placed your hands flat on the counter either side of her and leaned in, making her taste herself on your tongue. you grabbed her shorts beside you and pulled away from the kiss to help her put them back on and she hopped off the counter, still trapped by your frame.

“i should probably go to bed now,” she murmured.

“okay.”

she didn’t move still. her hands brushed your arms that hung at your sides. she leant up for another kiss before eventually lighting pushing you so she could get passed and head for the stairs. she stopped and turned, giving you a ‘i can’t believe that just happened’ smile and she put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“right, i really am going to bed.”

you took a sip of your previously abandoned water and smirked at her, watching her disappear up the stairs.

the next morning you were grabbing your things to leave, downing the last mouthful of orange juice.

“we still good for the movies next week?” stacy asked.

“yeah, can’t wait.” you gave her a quick side hug.

“was good to see you,” dina smiled knowingly at you.

“thanks for dinner,” you said, then hugging her and mumbling in her ear, “and dessert.” she subtly slapped your arm. stacy seemed oblivious.

“right, bye.” you threw your backpack over one shoulder and left with a shit-eating grin on your face.

[worldlxvlys]

complicated (part 1)

chris sturniolo x reader

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: making out, mentions of sex, suggestive, angst, cursing

a/n: this one is longggg so i broke it up into 3 parts. i already wrote parts 2 and 3 so they’ll be up soonnn :)

matt, chris, and i were all chilling together in their living room.

nick had gone to his room to start editing a little while ago.

matt and i were seated next to each other on the couch, chris sitting on the loveseat.

my relationship with the two of them was complicated.

matt was my best friend, he knew me like the back of his hand. with one look at me he could tell what i was feeling.

we spent so much time together, we were often with each other longer than we were apart .

we were so close that we blurred the lines between friends and something more every now and then. but it never went further than lingering touches and almost kisses.

i’m not sure why, but late nights staying up talking have often led to our lips being mere centimeters apart lately.

i chalked it up to sleep deprivation and getting caught up in the heat of the moment.

chris, however, was different. i wasn’t as close to him as i was matt, but the few times where it was just us hanging out, i always had fun.

there was this unspoken tension between chris and i. we never said anything about it, but we were both well aware it was there.

he made flirty comments toward me whenever matt wasn’t in the room, finding joy in my flustered state that resulted from it.

i never let anything happen though, out of respect for matt being my best friend.

it seemed like chris made it his mission to get me to break, constantly testing my self-control.

the three of us had just finished watching a movie, watching as the credits began to roll.

immediately, matt stood up, patting my knee as he did so.

“alright, i’m gonna get food. you guys coming?” he asked.

chris stood up as soon as matt asked the question.

“no, i’m good” i answered, not feeling like getting up.

chris glanced at me for a second before answering, “actually, i’m not really hungry”

matt narrowed his eyes in confusion before shrugging and beginning to leave.

“alright, i’ll be back in a little” he said before leaving.

chris walked over to me, replacing matt’s spot as he sat down next to me.

“wanna listen to some music?” he asked as he grabbed the tv remote.

“sure” i answered, watching as his long fingers worked the remote.

“why didn’t you go?” i asked, watching him from the corner of my eye.

i watched as he clicked shuffle on a playlist, before the room was filled with the melody of a song.

wet the bed - chris brown

“chris, you’re not fucking serious right now” i deadpanned as the suggestive lyrics played out.

“i didn’t pick the song” he held his hands up in defense. “i just picked a chris brown playlist, i know you like his music” he said.

i just wanna take your legs and wrap 'em round

girl, you cummin' right now

my head to your chest feelin’ your heartbeat, girl

“how do you know that?” i asked, confused.

“you’re always listening to his music, so i assumed you liked it. i mean, unless you just listen to music you hate for fun”

“i didn’t realize you were paying attention” i said.

“of course i am. you make it hard to focus on anything else”

i don't want to be a minute man

baby, you're just like a storm rainin' on me

girl, your soakin' wet

i turned my body towards his as he caught my attention.

“what do you mean? do you find me distracting?” i asked, leaning forward slightly.

“you know i do” he said as his eyes traveled down to my lips.

i’ma kiss you right (yeah, yeah)

i'm gon' lick all night (yeah, yeah)

girl, when i'm inside (yeah, yeah)

“why’d you stay?” i whispered as i stopped myself from pushing my lips to his. “you know damn well you wanted to go”

“i did, but i wanted to stay with you more” he said.

“why?” i asked as he rested his forehead against mine. he placed his hand on my thigh, lightly gripping the side of it.

“because i want you” he breathed out, hooking my leg over his waist to straddle him.

yeah, girl, you heard what I said

i'm gonna make you wet the bed

i looked down at him, steadying myself by grabbing his shoulders.

“we really shouldn’t chris” i spoke as my lips brushed against hit.

“definitely not” he spoke against my lips, his eyes closed.

“it’s wrong” i whispered.

“but one kiss wouldn’t hurt, right?” he asked, his hands running up and down my waist.

“chris” i sighed.

“please, i need it so bad” his hands now traveled down to my ass.

“just one-” his lips were on mine the second i spoke the words.

i'ma put your legs behind your head

when I make you wet the bed

my hands found their way to his hair as his lips moved greedily against mine.

one of his hands found my jaw, holding it steady as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head.

after a while, we pulled away for air. “one more” he spoke before attaching his lips back to mine, barely giving me time to breathe.

one more turned into two more, two turned into three, and before i knew it i was lost in the way his lips pressed against mine.

his hands traveled to my ass, squeezing it, eliciting a moan from me.

when i let out a gasp in surprise, he slid his tongue past my lips.

“what the fuck ?” came a voice from behind us.

i pulled my lips away from chris, moving off of his lap.

“matt-” i began before he cut me off. “what? what excuse could you possibly give me right now?” he asked.

“look, i’m sorry that i hurt you, but i’m an adult. i don’t really need to give an excuse for anything i do” i spoke defensively.

“whatever” he scoffed as he shook his head, “ i brought you food for later, i knew you’d probably get hungry anyway. but i guess i’m the only one here who thinks about other people” he spoke in a low voice before walking away.

my face dropped at that, starting to feel bad about not considering his feelings at all.

“hey, if you wanna blame someone, blame me. i’m the one who kept pushing you, so please don’t blame yourself” chris spoke, practically seeing the gears turning in my head.

“yeah” i whispered in response, still feeling incredibly guilty.

“hold on, i’ll be back. i’m gonna go talk to him” he spoke, squeezing my hand before going off to matt’s room.

after sitting there in anticipation for a few minutes, i began to get nervous. not knowing what was going on was killing me.

my body moved quicker than my brain as i got up and made my way towards matt’s room. i pressed my ear to the door, listening to what they were saying.

“you know how i feel about her” matt’s muffled voice traveled through the door.

“you barely even hang out with her, you just want her because you know you shouldn’t” matt continued.

“you like the thrill of having to sneak around, and chasing after someone you can’t have. you never once showed any interest in her before i did, now suddenly you just have to have her?” matt asked.

“it’s not like that, matt. i don’t hang out with her often because whenever i do, you accuse me of stealing her away from you” chris started, but was cut off by matt.

“that’s not true, and you know it. you can’t just warp the truth to support the sorry excuses you come up with. just admit it, you don’t actually want her” matt said.

“that’s the thing, matt, i do want her. i just didn’t wanna make it obvious, since you obviously can’t handle that”

“what i can’t handle is the way you think you’re entitled to do whatever the hell you want. did you ever stop to think about what this would do to my friendship with her? or my relationship with you? do you ever think about anything other than yourself?” matt asked.

it didn’t seem like their conversation was going anywhere. the second they started to get somewhere, someone would throw an insult at the other.

deciding to intervene, i knocked on the door loudly. the arguing stopped immediately and the door opened a few seconds later.

i was met with an angry matt, but his face softened as soon as he saw me.

knowing i wanted to be let in, he moved to the side to let me pass. he closed the door behind me, watching as i went to sit on his bed.

“look, i’m sorry guys. i shouldn’t have kissed chris, it was a mistake. the last thing i ever want to do is break the bond that you guys have. let’s just forget this ever happened” i said to them.

“no” chris started, taking me by surprise. “i want you to pick”

“what?” i asked, my face dropping at this.

“chose who you want to be with. it doesn’t make sense for us to fight over you, it’s your decision. whoever you decide to stay friends with won’t take it personal, right matt?” chris asked.

“yeah, we’re not gonna force you into anything you don’t want. if the feelings aren’t there, then they aren’t there” matt agreed.

two minutes ago they were arguing uncontrollably and now they were able to come to an agreement in seconds? this was weird.

“so, who do you want?” chris asked.

who do i want? i had no clue.

i loved spending time with chris, but what if matt was right? what if i only enjoyed the thrill of having someone i can’t have ? was that worth jeopardizing my friendship with either of them over?

and matt? i had such a deep connection with him, i didn’t want to lose him. if i fucked up our friendship, i’d never forgive myself for it. the last thing i ever wanted to do was hurt him, yet that was exactly what i was doing in the moment.

“i don’t know, i don’t even think i can pick” i spoke honestly.

“then why not give us both a shot?” chris asked.

“wait, what ?” i asked, confused.

“well, you wanna see if this is more than just tension, right ? and you wanna know if you have feelings for matt?” he asked.

“i mean, yeah” i answered.

“well, there’s a way to answer both of those questions” he spoke as he pointed to the bed.

my eyes widened at the implication , “sex?”

“if it’ll help you decide who you want, then why not?” chris asked.

“that’s not really the first approach i would’ve taken, but he’s not wrong” matt hesitantly agreed.

“obviously sex isn’t the only factor that goes into a relationship, but you already know all of the other factors. you know how we treat you outside of the bed, so maybe the key to your decision is what happens in it” matt spoke.

“i mean, if you don’t want to that’s fine but-” chris started. “i’m in” i cut him off.

“so, who’s first?” i asked playfully.

“me” chris spoke eagerly, “i mean, we should finish what we started earlier, right?” he tried to cover up his excitement.

“alright, get out of my room” matt started, ushering us out. “and please don’t be loud, i don’t wanna hear that shit”

🌀🌀🌀🌀

next part

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @mattsnymphette @leah-loves-lilies @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07

[justnatoka]

Late night snack

Paul x GN! Reader

A/n: Guys, I'm down bad for this man😩

Word count: 1.1k

Warning: slight nsfw themes (minors dni), a lot of sexual tension, allusions to smut, but nothing too explicit, Paul being a delicious looking mf

Prompt: "Is that my shirt?"

One person wearing their lover's clothing with a little spin on it. ;)

Hearing knocking on your window in the middle of the night wasn’t an unusual occurrence. It came with having a vampire for a boyfriend. So when the familiar noise interrupted your lazing-around-in-bed-staring-at-the-ceiling-listening-to-music-and-vibing session, you weren’t even surprised. Getting up, you strolled over to the window, and upon opening it, you were met with the grinning and blood covered face of your handsome lover.

“Boy, you are a messy eater,” you marveled at the sight. “Come on in, but watch the carpet.”

Paul climbed into your room, carefully navigating around to not smear any remnants of his dinner onto your stuff. His eyes took in your figure as you turned your back to him. His hungry gaze roamed over your bare legs, his stomach twisting in excitement as he caught a glimpse of your underwear peeking out from under the oversized T-shirt when you plopped back down on your bed.

“Cute pj’s, babe. Maybe I should come over more often if you greet me like this every time,” he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Maybe I will let you see more,” you flirted right back, positioning in a way that rid your shirt further back up, showing off more of what was underneath. It earned you an audible groan. “But only if you take a shower first. I’m sorry, Paulie, but you reek of death.”

He looked at you like a kicked puppy, lips pouting and everything.

“I don’t even get a greeting kiss?”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Fine, come here, you big dork.”

His beautiful face lit up as he almost pounced on you, only stopping because you held out your hands, barely avoiding a disaster.

“I swear to god, Paul, if you get blood all over the sheets you don’t get anything tonight.”

Your warning had an instant effect on him. Now being much more careful, he leaned forward, and you cupped his face between both hands as you pressed soft kisses on his lips. His hands made their way to your bare thighs, supporting his weight on them, fingers digging into your flesh. You let out a sigh as he licked your lower lip, allowing him entrance and deepening the kiss. You were practically panting by the time he finally drew back and let you breathe, his heated gaze boring into your own, before a cheeky grin made its way onto his face.

“You know, you could join me in the shower.” Your face flushed at the mental image, and you forced your thoughts to stop before they could run away with you.

“A tempting offer, but maybe another time,” you patted his cheek. “I have to take care of your clothes.”

He looked down at them, seemingly only now realizing what a mess they were. “Oh.”

“Go ahead, the bathroom is the second door to the right. Just leave your clothes outside on the floor,” you instructed. “There are towels under the sink, and you can use my shampoo.”

He turned back from your bedroom door.

“Then at least everyone will know I’m yours, if I smell like you.” He sent you a wink and disappeared down the hall, leaving you dumbstruck and beat red.

You pressed your hand to your cheek, feeling how hot you got. “Damn, you’ll be the death of me one day.”

When you heard the slamming of the bathroom door and the shower turning on, you made your way over there to pick up the bloody clothes lying on the floor. Through the sound of rushing water you could faintly make out a tune, realizing that Paul was humming a song from a band you introduced him to. You stood there and listened for a bit with an endearing smile on your lips, wondering how the hell you managed to score such an amazing guy. Humming soon turned into off-key singing, and you chuckled to yourself, finally deciding to get on with your task.

After chucking his clothes into the washer, you first cleaned up the blood he got all over your floor, a trail leading from your window to the puddle in front of your bathroom door. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that there were smears on your skin as well, signs of your earlier makeout session. You made sure to thoroughly wipe those down too.

The washing machine just finished when you heard the bathroom door open and Paul making his way into your room. You put his stuff into the dryer, then went to see what he was up to. The sight that greeted you made you stop in the doorway, your breath caught in your lungs.

Paul stood next to your open closet, towel sinfully low around his waist, his clean, freshly dried hair cascading down his back in fluffy waves and sticking up at odd angles around his face. With hands on his hips and head adorably tilted, he seemed deep in contemplation as he surveyed your clothes, a few of them already lying discarded on the floor by his leg. But it was the realization of what he was wearing that made you bite your lip, unable to tear your gaze from the view.

“Is that my shirt?”

His head perked up at your voice, blue eyes locking with your own. One side of his mouth curled upward as he turned to you, letting you take in all of him. He was wearing one of your T-shirts, the fabric pulling tight around his shoulders and on his chest, the poor thing entirely too short to cover all of his torso, showing off the lower part of his stomach and the little happy trail leading down under the towel. You were practically salivating.

Your eyes met his and he chuckled at the look on your face.

“See something you like?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

Instead of answering, you strode over to him, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down into a hungry kiss. Your hands got lost in his hair, tugging lightly on the strands, making Paul moan into your mouth.

“You know, you’re not making it easy for me not to just eat you up when you’re such a snack,” you purred as you separated for some air.

“Who said I had any intention to stop you?” His husky tone made goosebumps rise up on your skin.

“Oh, you’re bad.”

“Only for you, babe.”

He giggled as you tackled him onto the bed, making fast work in ridding him of the towel, but leaving your shirt, not entirely ready to let go of such a sight yet. Needless to say, his wish about a shared shower was granted afterward.

[earth2rin]

LAST RESORT ᡣ𐭩

bakugo x fem!reader college au

2.1k words

warnings: mild cursing, slightly suggestive, alcohol use

friends not answering your calls? ubers not available? guess it’s time for your last resort.

“fuck” you slur as your screen reads that iida had not answered your phone. you called jirou, then momo, then izuku, todoroki, sero and kiri, but no answer.

you were drunk. absolutely hammered and the clock on your phone currently reads 2:37 in the morning. there were no ubers available and you were in desperate need of a ride home back to your apartment from the college frat party you and your friends decided to go to.

you originally had a DD, but ochako ended up leaving early, something about deku getting home earlier than expected from his trip in the states. you told her to go and see her man, and how she better fill you in on all the deets or else you were never going to cover for her whenever she and deku “mysteriously” disappear from functions.

so here you sat on the couch in some random fraternity house, pouting about how you had no idea of how you were gonna get home. the music was loud and your body was buzzing, all the loud conversations going on around you didn’t help brighten your mood. you were tired, and your feet hurt from the heels you were wearing. you wanted to go home. you contemplated just crashing on the couch and waking up super early to leave, but the skirt you were wearing would ride up every 5 minutes and you were sure if you slept on the couch someone would get a show when they would wake up in the morning. you also thought about walking home but for obvious reasons you decided against it, walking 7 miles in the middle of the night in a miniskirt was an absolute no!

then an idea popped into your head. you had absolutely no faith, but it was your last chance to get home before you started walking. you chewed on your lip, anxiety making you ponder if you really should go through with it, it wasn’t like you had any other choice!

biting the inside of your cheek, you wait as you hear the familiar sound of your phone ringing, hoping the call will go through. your nerves grew as the ringing had continued in your ears.

“hello?” a gruff voice answers on the other end of the line.

“bakugo! oh my god i’m surprised you answered!” you say excitedly, smile extending from ear to ear.

“the fuck are you calling me for? it’s 3 in the god damn morning” he mumbles, you bite on your lip from being chewed out at.

“listen, i’m reeeeally sorry, but i’m really drunk and i need a ride home.” you whine and the desperation in your voice makes you cringe but you really meant it.

“so fucking call some one else, don’t bother me!” he sounds angry and your eyes begin to well with tears.

“i did! but no one wants to answer me and i’m really tired and want to go home, but my feet hurt and i can’t walk home and i’m hungry and there’s no food here, and i really want to go home.” you babble as the tears start pouring and the people around you give you stares but you’re too drunk to care right now.

“alright alright i’ll come get you! jus’ quit your crying already” you manage to get out a broken and whiny ‘okay’ before he asks you to send your location hangs up

even though you know you’ll regret it in the morning, you take 3 more shots and wander out into the front yard. the grass is cool, dewy from the 3am air and the leaves in the trees sway from the light breeze. the moon is out, and you can’t help but stare, mesmerized by its beauty. you find yourself lying in the grass, staring at the sky, hoping the nauseous feeling and pounding headache would go away soon.

your eyes begin to flutter shut, but soon you hear a voice speak up.

“what are you doing on the ground?” you flutter your eyes open and there standing at your feet was bakugo katsuki.

“oh heyyy. ‘m jus a little tired” you smile.

he stares at you and sighs

“well c’mon, get your ass up and let’s get you home.” you shake your head and pout.

“don’t wanna. ‘m so comfy. i think i'll throw up if i stand.” your brows furrow as you adjust your head, turning it to your side.

he groans, dragging and his hand down his face.

“alright, c’mon, up and attem” he lifts you up, throwing you over his shoulder (making sure to cover your ass from anyone seeing your baby pink underwear) and you groan.

“oh god, you’re making me nauseous!” your cheeks bubble up, trying to hold back your barf as you see the ground move from underneath you.

rolling his eyes, he replies “oh buck up, we’re almost at my car.”

you stare for a little, speaking up to drunkenly say, “you have a nice ass” and he pinches your arm, making you squeal and giggle.

you feel him stop, and hear the sound of a car door opening. he gently puts you in the seat and squats down.

“what are you doin?” you hum, eyes closed.

“give me your foot” he mumbles.

you make a confused face to which he replies, “just give me your damn foot!” you comply, sticking out your foot and frowning for being scolded.

he gently unclasps your heels and sets them underneath your seat, repeating the motions for your other foot. he then sets your feet in the car and leans over you, buckling your seatbelt for you.

you catch a whiff of his cologne and you internally sigh, he smelt absolutely heavenly. it didn’t help that he was wearing a wifebeater and his biceps were bulging right in front of your eyes. you wanted to bite him. he was ethereal, a sight to behold, an angel in front of you. why couldn’t he like you?

closing the door, he makes his way to the driver seat and hops in, tying himself in.

“ ‘m cold” you whine, and he turns around to his backseat and grabs a blanket, placing it in your lap.

you unfold it and wrap yourself in it, secretly taking a whiff and hiding your smile in the blanket.

“thanks” you quietly say, he nods in acknowledgment.

the ride to your apartment is comfortable. the radio playing music quietly, leaving you both to your thoughts. you had known bakugo since high school. you had been close friends with deku, and you knew his infamous bully. you tried to help deku and even defended him, but all izuku would say was that it was okay and that you didn’t need to fight for him. so you let izuku handle it, next thing you know you’re all at the same college. your class had all been relatively close, almost everyone was friends. but for some reason bakugo could just not stand you. you tried to figure out why, but you never really had interactions with him so there was nothing that tipped the scale.

you decided to not let it bother you, which was hard because you unfortunately found him ridiculously attractive. you couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to be friends, but you never acted upon your thoughts, settling in the belief that ignorance is bliss.

“you hungry?” you turn your head and blink.

“no ‘m okay, thanks.” you turn your head back to the window and he chuckles.

“alright but you’ll regret it in the morning.”

your eyes widen and you snap your head back to him.

“wait! i am hungry!” he rolls his eyes and says ‘okay’, pulling into a taco bell.

you feel giddy as he hands you your burrito, immediately unwrapping and chowing down on the warm heaven sent food.

“thanks!” you say with a smile and a full mouth, to which he slightly grimaces and says that you owe him one, which you decide to ignore.

shortly after, you arrive at your apartment and he parks, getting out to open your door.

“i don’t wanna go im barefoot! that means i’ll have to walk across the dirty concrete!” you whine and he tries his best not to show his frustration, but the vein popping out on his forehead says otherwise.

“c’mon, i came all this way AND bought you taco bell and you can’t even walk to the door?” you pout and he groans, tossing you over his shoulder again.

he grabs your heels and your purse, beginning his tread up the stairs.

“wait a minute, how do ya know where i live, hmm?”

he rolls his eyes, which he knows you can’t see and responds, “you had a party for ochako remember?”

you gasp and giggle, “oh yeah! and then they left early so they could fu-“

“and we’re here!” he cuts you off, digging through your purse for your keys.

once in your apartment, he asks where your bedroom is, finding the room he sets you down on your bed and puts your heels by your closet. he leaves the room, heading to your kitchen. you frown due to the lack of his company, but he returns with a glass of water and a bottle of tylenol.

“here, take this for your feet and headache.” you grab the two pills he’d taken out the bottle and swallow them, chugging the water shortly after. the tension is thick as you both stare at each other.

you get up, walk to your dresser and look through your drawers, he stands awkwardly behind you trying hard not to stare at your ass as you bend over to look for pajamas. you began stripping and before you can get your tube top over your head he blurts out.

“where’s your bathroom?” you turn your head and blink at him.

“i have an en suite, it’s the door to your left,” he nods and quickly rushes inside the room.

after changing into your pajamas you make yourself comfortable in your sheets, waiting for bakugo to exit your bathroom. your eyes begin to shut until you hear the click of the door opening.

he had assumed you’d fallen asleep and began to exit your room.

“why don’t you like me?” you mutter. he freezes, he feels like a deer caught in headlights.

“what are you talking about?” he plays dumb but you don’t falter.

“why don’t you like me?” you repeat, this time more confidently.

he swallows thickly and turns to look at you, you sit up and look at him.

“i never said i didn’t like you.” he says as if it’s a matter of fact.

“well you sure as hell make it seem like i’m the last person on earth you’d rather be with.” you chuckle bitterly, the alcohol coursing through your veins giving you the courage to say what you’ve always wondered.

“it’s a shame really, i thought we could be good friends, i find you quite charming, dashing even. i wouldn’t have minded if things went further then just being friends as well.” you sigh falling back into your sheets, snuggling into your comforter.

“that makes two of us.” he mumbles and he thinks you didn’t hear it, but you remove your blankets and make your way towards him.

“well maybe when you give up the act of thinking i’m insufferable you could give me a call, yeah?”

he’s at a loss for words, you’re standing awfully too close to him, he can feel the heat radiating off of your body and it sends shivers down his spine. he swallows, examining your face and he licks his lips.

“you're drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying” he tries to rationalize, more to himself than you.

“oh i’m perfectly aware of what i’m saying” you send him a small coy smile and he feels butterflies as you stare into his eyes.

“if i call you sometime will you go to bed already?” he takes a small step closer and you smile at him.

“anything you’d like.”

“i’ll call you then.”

you nod like a school girl, and head back to your bed.

“night.” you say as he slips through your door.

“night.”

the next morning you woke up with a horrendous headache, making your way to the kitchen for some water. a bottle of vitamin c gummies, a free pizza coupon and the blanket you had last night folded up were sitting on your counter top. on the bottle of vitamin c there was a sticky note attached.

for the hangover. call you tonight?

-k.b.

[onelittlespiral]

Hey hi, I need your help asap! I was talking with my roommate and he told me about your new special deal. And I wasn’t really interested but my roommate let slip that he was gonna ask you to turn me into a nymphomaniac hunk for him. And I don’t want that, so I rushed to write to you. Please can you turn my roommate into anything that will prevent him to turn me, maybe show him a taste of what he wanted to force me into? Thanks a lot!

Subject: Customer Service Ticket #3478

Dear (REDACTED),

We hope to alleviate any concerns you have about our services. However, at this time, we are unable to process any changes regarding Order #100765. Any changes will need to be made by the authorized purchaser. If there is any other way we can be of assistance, please feel free to contact us at the number below. Otherwise, we know that you’ll soon be satisfied.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

One email and I was left in a panic. I can’t believe my roommate would try to change me. I called the number included on the email, dialed 2 for customer service, and waited as the hold music played. All the while I was left thinking. We had the usual quibbles about dishes and cleaning up and all that, but committing to the kind of shit he had laid out in his order? It had to be some kind of prank. I was just in circles, kept thinking how there must be a way to cancel the order. All the while I was listening to instrumentals of jazzy horns and synths. You waited five, ten, twenty minutes on the line, hoping for a response. You had other plans today, but this had shot those down. You could only sit, wait, and listen.

After 30 minutes of waiting and stewing, someone finally picked up on the line,

“Hello, is this (REDACTED)?”

“Yes! Finally. I have been waiting forever. You’ve got to help me man.”

“I’m sorry to hear you have been waiting so long. Have you been just listening to that horrible hold music for half an hour?” He sounded condescending, like he wasn’t taking my dilemma seriously.

“Yea, now I need your help. I need to cancel an order.”

“Are you sure you need to boy toy?”

The words bounced in your head and your jaw went slack. You feel strange… dizzy and confused. “Huuuh?” was all you could get out.

“Yeah boy toy, just tell me what you need changed? Unless the wait helped you calm down?”

Your mind raced, to think of what you needed. But the more you tried to think, the harder it felt, “Uhhhhh…”

The man’s voice turned helpful, “Well, let’s go over the order just in case, shall we?” You sat and listened as he rattled off details. “Let’s see, we have an order here for a sexy hunk, with an increased sex drive. One of our best lines. That sound okay?”

He sounded confident. Was it really the best? You must have wanted the best, “Yes.”

“Good, so that comes with our lean muscle package, with abs, pecs, and a bubble butt extension. Does that feel right?”

You feel a shift beneath you, and looking down something feels wrong. You weren’t expecting to see perfectly tanned skin, pulled tight against your six pack. As you glide your hand down your form it all feels so firm. So muscular. Your mind tries to think of a reason not to, but you mumbled, “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy toy,” you lit up a bit. You liked it when he called you that. “Now, it also does come with a facial remodel. And I have it in the notes here you want the hair platinum blonde?”

You felt pressure in your face. Your open mouth snapped tight as your bones shaped and remodeled themselves. The pain was sudden and sharp. But by the time you lifted your hand to your jaw, it had stopped. Quickly, the memory faded to the background as you relaxed again, drool pooling out newly plumped lips, “Yuuh.”

“Perfect, perfect. Now, the last change I have here is a priority shift. You want to think only with your hungry hole boy toy?”

The hormone levels in your body jumped as your ass shifted uncomfortably beneath you. You needed to contain it, have some sense of control. Or do you? As you let yourself relax, you began grinding against the ground beneath you. Only one thought was left in your mind: you needed your hole filled. You began playing with yourself, and a faint moan was all that the operator needed to hear.

“I think that’s everything. Boy toy, wake up.” The fog receding in your mind did nothing to mask the horniness. If anything it made the need more clear. “Thank you for calling The Spiral customer service line. Goodbye!” And he was gone.

You barely could manage to navigate your way home. Every man was a distraction, as your mind raced with fantasies of being groped and used. But something within you made sure you made it through the complex door and safely into your apartment. You wanted to just lay down and try to sort out the day. But the man spreading out on your couch stopped you in your tracks.

A small voice in the back of your mind tried to say something was wrong. But your roommate on the couch looked so right. His features glistened in the dim light, highlighting his muscular physique and masculine features. His old, well worn wife beater and grey stained shorts left little to the imagination. And the sloppy demeanor and funk he emanated clashed with your clean and well-toned body. But the way his eyes fixed on you, the hunger and swagger in his gaze, left you weak in the knees. The attraction was instant, and with no willpower left, you buried yourself in his body and began worshiping this pillar of masculine energy. Inhibition was gone as you licked at the thin fabric separating you from your prize. And as he pulled his waistband down and shoved his sweaty cock down your throat, you let his flavor coat your pallet.

“Welcome home boy toy,” he groaned. That’s right. You were his little boy toy.

A buzz came from your roommate’s pocket.

Subject: Order #100690 Fulfilled

Dear (REDACTED)

Your order has been fulfilled. We have also closed Ticket #3478 at this time. We know you have many options, but thank you for the support.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

[judebelle]

Hey I have a gavi request with him getting glasses, and he's all pouty abt it and its just pure fluff

i'm not cute, i'm sexy! - p.g. x reader

a/n : this req is so cutsie wtf

cw : js super fluffy

pairing : pablo gavi x fem!reader

wc : 800 (sorry this is short lol)

---

you were sat in the passenger seat of the car, fingers swiping over your phone screen. you had been waiting for around 15 minutes for your boyfriend to come out of the glasses store.

pablo had went to the optometrist about a week ago for a check up, and also because he was having trouble seeing things from far away.

he was told that he needed glasses, and boy was pablo upset. he liked how he looked and was worried that glasses would make him look like a “nerd”.

you reassured him and told him that that wasn’t true. you tried to tell him he would look handsome with and without them.

he also needed to pick up contacts since he can’t wear glasses during training and games. but the optometrist told him to only wear them when he wasn't able to wear his glasses.

he was all quiet during the drive to the store. whenever he was in a bad mood, he would usually blast his music. you thought hell had frozen over when the whole car ride was silent.

finally after a few more minutes of waiting, pablo walked out of the shop with a paper bag in his hand. he wasn’t wearing any glasses walking out of the store, so you assumed they were in the bag.

he finally reached the car and opened the door before sitting in the drivers seat. he turned to you with a sigh. “i hate my life.”

you giggled at his dramatics. “put them on, i wanna see.” you bit your lip in anticipation.

“i would but… i’m.. hungry. what do you wanna eat?”

your eyebrows furrowed. what did hunger have to do with his glasses? “stop with the excuses, pablo.” your hand grasped his bicep. “i wanna seeee!” you whined.

your begging had finally convinced mr. stubborn to give in. “fine.”

you squealed in excitement and planted a kiss on his cheek. he fished through the bad and pulled out a leather glasses case.

he turned over to face the window away from you as he put them on. “don’t laugh!”

“i wont, i promise. just turn!”

he slowly turned over with his head looking down at his lap. after a deep breath, he looked up at you.

he had picked out clear full rimmed glasses. they sat low on his nose before he pushed them up gently with his finger. a rosy blush crept up on his cheeks while he tried to bite back his embarrassed smile.

you smiled softly to ease pablo's nerves.

“you look good baby! they look.. cute.”

pablo’s is smiled dropped at your choice of words. “cute?”

you nodded before pushing the front of his hair back admiringly.

“i’m not cute, i’m sexy! this isn’t fair!” he complained before his hands dropped into his lap hopelessly. “my life is over.”

this man.

you laughed at his overdramatic reaction. “you still look sexy, pablito, but you also look cute! there’s nothing wrong with that.” you hand cupped his jaw, thumb stroking his cheek before you quickly planted a kiss on his cheek in hopes of cheering him up.

he still didn’t listen to your reassurances. i told you he was stubborn.

he pouted and turned the key in the ignition. “let’s just go get some food.”

you two had driven off to a drive through to get some wraps and sandwiches. pablo pulled up to the speaker and told the employee both of your orders' since you visited here often. .

as he spoke, his glasses would slide down his nose, so he would have to keep pushing them up. he looked adorable, you couldn’t lie.

once you drove up to the window to pick up the food, pablo let out hushed curses at his glasses while he pushed them up his nose aggressively. “¡estas cosas estúpidas no se quedarán despiertas, dios!” (these stupid things won’t stay up, god!)

you chuckled at his frustration before the drive through window opened, the lady handing him your food.

you thanked her and drove off. after continuing to push up the glasses, pablo gave up and took them off. “i can’t do this, seriously.” you turned to him with wide eyes. “not on the road, pablo! put them back on!”

he, once again, didn’t listen to you and kept driving. his eyes kept squinting at different street signs and lights.

it took him almost hitting a squirrel for him to give up and put them back on with a angry huff.

---

you two had finally reached home. you plated your food and sat at the dining table. you sat across from pablo. his mood had eventually fixed itself as he ate. he must’ve been really hungry.

he was speaking passionately, excited to tell you a story. the whole duration of lunch pablo had kept pushing his glasses up his nose, but he had become accustomed to it now.

“i told pedro to call me later about it, because i dont want him doing anything stup-“

his words were cut short when his glasses finally slid off his face and into the sandwich on his plate, right into a puddle sauce.

you couldn’t help but laugh loudly at your boyfriend who was left pouting and staring at his plate and new mortal enemy.

[adrienneleclerc]

Sizes

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Plus-size Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Charles decides to take his girlfriend shopping and things don’t turn out the way he wants them to

Warning: Spelling and grammatical errors, I guess self hate, weight comments

A/N: this will be a very self-indulgent fanfic because i am on the “bigger” side, I’m a size US 12 through US 18 depending on the store, I’ll always look for the XL tops, but yeah, this is something I struggle with. I hope some of y’all can relate to this!

Y/N L/N was in the plane with Charles, they were flying from New York to Monaco. Y/N was listening to music, looking out the window, Charles noticed that Y/N has been a little quiet, this happens every time they visit Y/N’s parents in New York. Y/N doesn’t even know why she bothers visiting them, all they do is talk about her weight.

Y/N has always been a bigger size, even when she was younger. Growing up, her mom would side eye her whenever she would get a second plate, she always heard “si ya comiste un plato, por qué te vas a servir más?” “If You’re hungry, drink water.” It is even worse when she went shopping with her mother and if Y/N says that she can’t find anything in her size, her mom will say “si ya sabes que no hay nada en tu talla, por qué no bajas de peso?” And of course, the ever so great, “no vas a encontrar novio si sigues así de gorda.” When Y/N was a teenager, her mom had her take diet pills from Mexico to help her lose weight. And sure, Y/N lost weight, but she gained it back and her mom never let her hear the end of it, “if you already lost the weight, why didn’t you try to keep it off? I kept the weight off, I’m eating less, why can’t you?” Her mom would send her photos of when she lost weight and text her “look how beautiful you were, try to lose weight.” As if it was so easy. It was even worse when her dad joined in “don’t worry mija, we’ll find a way for you to lose weight.” If you already had one plate, why do you serve yourself more, if you already know there’s nothing in your size, why don’t you lose weight, you’re not gonna find a boyfriend of you’re fat,

So when she visited her mom the first thing she heard was

“Mija, has subido de peso, verdad?” Y/N’s mom Celia, asked, Y/N rolled her eyes. You gained weight, right?

“Hola mami, yo ha estado muy bien, y tú?” Y/N asked sarcastically. Hi mom, I’ve been good, and you?

“Don’t listen to your mother, como has estado, mija? Cómo está tu novio?” Y/N’s dad, Julio, asked, leading Y/N on the couch, how have you been? How’s your boyfriend?

“Ah si, el novio, sigues con él o ya encontró un modelo?” Celia asked, ah yes, the boyfriend, are you still together or did he find himself a model?

“Sí, Mami, sigo con él, ahorita está en el yankee stadium ese para hacer el celebrity pitch.” Y/N said. Yes mom, I’m still with with, right now he’s at the Yankee stadium to do the celebrity pitch

“Ooh si, como no.” Celia commented. “Pero ya que estás aquí, fui a México con tu papá y mi amiga consiguió las pastillas.” Celia got up to go to the kitchen and brought back 3 bottles of pills. “Hay 60 cada uno, tómatelas, quizás por fin serás digno de ser la novia de un piloto de Fórmula uno.” Y/N just stood there and shoved the pills in her bag. Yeah sure, but now that you’re here I went to Mexico with your dad and my friend got me the pills. There 60 in each bottle, take them, maybe then you’ll finally look like an F1 driver’s girlfriend

“Not that this wasn’t fun, pero ya me voy, papi, te quiero mucho, te veo en navidad, mami…adiós.” Y/N said, leaving her parent’s apartment. But I’m gonna go, dad, I love you, I’ll see you at Christmas, mom…bye

Which brings us back to the plane ride. Charles didn’t like seeing Y/N so upset so he tapped her arm and asked Y/N to take off her headphones and she did.

“Mon coeur, do you want to talk about what happened?” Charles asked

“Not really.” Y/N said.

“When we land in Monaco, do you want to go shopping?” Charles asked and Y/N looked confused. “I have this event with APM Monaco, I was thinking we could get some new clothes, doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“I Don’t know, muñeco…” Y/N said but was interrupted by Charles.

“I Don’t like seeing you upset, Mon ange. I want to do this for you, you could pick whatever dress you want, matching shoes, some jewelry…” Charles said and Y/N interrupted him.

“Muñeco, you Don’t really have to.” Y/N said.

“I want to, I want to spoil you, you deserve it.” Charles said, kissing Y/N. “Now get some sleep. We’ll freshen up when we land and then we’ll go shopping.”

So that’s what Y/N did, she slept until the plane stopped. Once the plane landed, they got out and Charles drove them back to his apartment so they could shower. Once showered, Y/N styled her hair and picked out a casual outfit so they could go shopping.

“You look beautiful, Mon coeur.” Charles said, kissing her.

“Thank you, muñeco.” Y/N said, she got her bag and saw the pills in there. She just shoved them in her suitcase before charles could see the,.

“Come on, let’s go to the metropole shopping center, I’m sure they’ll have something beautiful for you.” Charles said. Y/N nods her head. Charles drove to the mall and they entered a fancy dress store.

“Wow, these dresses are beautiful.” Y/N said.

“Yep, I’m going to pick out some dresses for you to try, okay.” Charles said before kissing her cheek and Y/N started to roam around the store.

She a sales lady side eyeing her. It made Y/N feel self conscious, like many times before, Y/N just looked at the dresses, took a picture, and texted her thinner friends saying ‘you’ll love these dresses’ because she sure as hell knows she won’t fit in them. She turned around and saw Charles holding 3 dresses in her preferred colors and preferred style.

“I think you would look amazing in these. I’ll be right outside the dressing room if you need help, okay.” Charles said. Y/N walked into the dressing room and saw herself in the mirror.

“Here goes nothing.” Y/N said. She’s checked the tag and it said it was a size EU 48, which is her size, so as she tried in the dress, she noticed it was a little tight in the waist area. “Muñeco, Can you help me?” Charles pulled back the curtain and got in, closing the curtain behind him. He tried to zip up,the dress but he couldn’t. Everything Celia told her came flooding in her head, she has gained weight, she shouldn’t have eaten so much growing up, it was her own fault that she was fat, she should have kept the weight off. She was so in her head that she didn’t realize she was crying or that Charles was speaking until charles was right in front of her, wiping her tears with tissues that Y/N carrieesaround in her purse.

“Mon ange, are you okay?” Charles asked softly.

“No, I am not okay. This stupid dress doesn’t fit, probably nothing in this store will fit me because I am so fat, maybe I should take those diet pills my mom gave me, I am so ugly.” Y/N sobbed, taking off the dress haphazardly, not caring if she ripped something or not. She put her jeans and oversized t shirt back on but sat down on the floor to sob into her hands. Charles has tears in his eyes, it hurt to hear her talk about herself this way.

“Mon coeur, what happened with your mother?” Charles asked. Y/N got another reissue for her bag and blew her bise before answering him.

“She said that I have gained weight, asked if we were still together or if you found yourself a model girlfriend, and she gave me diet pills so i can lose weight like I did when I was 16/17.” Y/N said. Charles felt angry, how could a mother say that to her own daughter?

“Mon coeur, I love you, you know that, right? I love you so much and don’t worry about the dress, there are other stores that carry bigger sizes and so,étimos the sizing runs short here.” Charles attempts to make Y/N feel better.

“You don’t get it, Charles. You could find a dress that could perfectly fit me and I’m going to hate myself in it, my mom would point out my flaws when we’re shopping ‘you’re back is too wide for that dress, this dress shows off your belly, if you lost 20 pounds, you could pull off that dress’, even if I really liked something I wore, my mom would ruin it for me. And now I say that about myself, it’s so bad” Y/N cried and Charles hugged her, smoothie her back, letting her cry it all out.

“Mon coeur, you need to stop visiting your mother. I know you love your parents but visiting your mom is not healthy for you. You’re not going to take those diet pills, okay? Those things are dangerous and who knows the side effects it might cause. Now listen to me very carefully, you are beautiful, your size doesn’t matter, not to me, I fell in love with you because you’re funny, you are so sweet to everyone, you love animals, you could be a size 50 or a size 32 and I would still love you because of your personality.” Charles said, cupping Y/N’s face, kissing her nose. “Safe to say we won’t be buying this.”

“Yeah, no.” Y/N said, they got out of the dressing room and put the dress back.

“I suggest getting bigger sizes, try being more inclusive.” Charles said befriended leaving the store with Y/N. ���I think you deserve some ice cream, don’t you?”

“I would love some.” Y/N said and Charles had his arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple before heading to an ice cream shop in the mall.

The End

Hope y’all liked it, this was a very personal one shot for me, this was based off true experiences, I really do struggle with this, I cried while writing.

This is me, sorry for the jump scare